All Chapters of BACKSTAGE ROMANCE.: Chapter 41 - Chapter 45

* Jeff *I opened my eyes to an unutterable sense of peace. I was warm and relaxed, with the pale winter morning light peeking through the curtains. Daniel was curled up next to me, breathing softly. I closed my eyes, then opened them again as I slowly realized I wasn't in my own bed, nor even in my own house.The events of the night before slowly came back. I had been in no state to get behind the wheel, and Daniel couldn't drive stick, so he had brought me to his own apartment. He had made me take aspirin and a multivitamin and drink several glasses of water to stave off a hangover before putting me to bed. It seemed to have worked; I had no headache or nausea, just some tightness behind my eyes. And that could just as easily have been from all the emotion of the last twelve hours as from the alcohol.Daniel had taken off his shoes and coat, but he was still wearing his pants and dress shirt from last night. Even rumpled and unsh

* Jeff * The world didn't yet know who Daniel J. Lewis was, but it was about to find out. My lover had just made his directorial debut, successfully bringing Ronald Gordon's tragic love trilogy to Austin, Texas in only its second full production. The buzz about the new talent on the scene was already beginning to spread through the theatrical community. And I hadn't been there for it. The trip from discovery to stage for Gordon's plays hadn't been terribly long, all things considered, but a global recession does tend to noticeably reduce the number of theaters willing to take a risk on an unproduced, decades-old play by an unknown author. After months of hunting, begging, and cajoling, Scott had finally lined up a prospect on the East Coast willing to gamble on back-to-back productions of Gordon's masterpiece—the trilogy Lamps by Day, Likeness of a Sigh, and A Grave Man. Scott's charm and persistence had paid off again w

* Daniel * When I woke up, my dick was as hard as if Jeff hadn't spent half the night impaled on it, milking it of every ounce of cum he could coax out of my overtaxed balls. Jeff was already up and sitting in the window seat, naked, waiting for me. He looked charming and disheveled and very sappy, a doting smile plastered all over his handsome face. I felt a matching smile crawl across my own mouth. Two and a half years on, he could still have that effect on me. I stretched languidly and, I hoped, sensuously. "Come back to bed, Jeff," I coaxed. His penis had stiffened gratifyingly at my little display—as I watched, it pulsed in time to his heartbeat—but he shook his head. "We have breakfast plans, baby," he told me. "Believe me, you make a compelling case for canceling them and spending the rest of the day in bed doing depraved things to that body of yours, but I put a lot of tho