5
The Unexpected Scene
What follows next is the scene in their play not appropriate for the stage.
Taking hold of Jonatho’s hand in a move that could easily mirror the very dance he was just taught, Zakary leads him down the hall to the bedroom and kicks shut the door. Driven by a manic hunger, Zakary tugs open Jonatho’s pants as they tumble toward the bed. With a squeak of bedsprings, Jonatho sits, his pants and underwear at his ankles, as he returns the favor by peeling down Zakary’s. The young stagehand’s cock springs forth, and at once, Jonatho takes it to his mouth. By instinct, Zakary snakes his fingers into Jonatho’s hair, finding purchase, and then his head rocks back.
Perhaps Jonatho really did need Zakary’s inches inside him, one way or another.
“Am I going too fast?” asks Jonatho from below.
Zakary is out of breath when he stares down at him. “Why’d you stop?”
“Good answer.” Jonatho’s warm wet mouth envelopes Zakary’s cock once again, then swallows it down to the base.
Zakary feels Jonatho grip him by the hips, fingers digging in, then clawing hungrily backwards to cup his exposed ass cheeks. Zakary is locked in place now, forced to take every second of pleasure Jonatho wants to give him. Even his pants at his ankles feel like another restraint, binding him to this moment where a man who once only existed in his dreams is now devouring him whole.
And he’s living for every damned second of it.
Before Zakary realizes it, Jonatho has risen from the bed, and the two lock eyes. Jonatho takes hold of Zakary’s cock, slippery from having sucked on it, and gently strokes it as he stares deeply into Zakary’s eyes.
It isn’t long before Zakary notices how slowly Jonatho is stroking him. “Now you’re not going fast enough.”
“Why rush?” ask Jonatho. “Don’t we have all night?” His face comes close, as if to kiss Zakary, but instead gently goes to his neck, where his lips put a peck on one side, then the other. Zakary closes his eyes and feels prickles of excitement chase their way down his body. He feels like a tasty snack Jonatho is painstakingly savoring, one tiny nibble at a time. It’s as excruciatingly frustrating as it is thrilling. “We could make this last for hours … or minutes. The best things in life are like that: over in an instant, like a spark, or a flash of lightning, or a bite of the sweetest candy. Or they last a while and get better over time, enjoyed like a fine bottle of wine, aged to perfection, or a savory meal you wait all day long for … its aroma living in you as it cooks in the oven, teasing you, inviting you, trapping you …”
“Like Thanksgiving?” mutters Zakary awkwardly, eyes still closed, as Jonatho continues softly exploring his neck with his lips, now descending to his chest.
Zakary can feel Jonatho’s lips smile against his skin. “That must make you the big prize turkey, huh?” His mouth catches at one of Zakary’s nipples, dragging his tongue over it. That unimaginably teasing sensation causes Zakary’s cock to flex in Jonatho’s grip, which tightens in response. “I can’t seem to get enough of you. How are you not already on a stage, captivating hearts, in the spotlight where everyone can see you? How does something as beautiful as you get hidden away behind the curtains?”
It isn’t easy keeping up a conversation with a mouth all over your body and a hand on your hard, throbbing cock. “The crew have important jobs, too,” Zakary starts.
“I know. The most important. You’re talking to a playwright, remember?”
“And as a playwright, you should understand peoples’ motivations better than anyone. As well as what people want. And I know you want to go slow and tease me all night, but …” Zakary squirms under the playwright’s firm hold and warm kisses, which are now worshipping his abs. “I’m starting to go crazy with your tortuously slow stroking of my dick, and … and I really just want you to bend me over the bed and fuck me.”
Jonatho looks up at once.
The desire must be pulsing in Zakary’s eyes like a lighthouse to a dark ocean, because there is no doubt he means exactly what he says.
“You want me to—?”
“Yes,” blurts Zakary. “I have condoms and lube in the nightstand. I can’t wait any longer. Please, I’m begging you, put me out of my misery.”
After a moment of seemingly debating where to put his next kiss, Jonatho smirks. “The impatience of youth.” He lifts an eyebrow. “You sure you’re ready for this, Red?”
Zakary answers by breaking free of his grip, peeling off both their pants, pushing Jonatho down to the bed, and bringing their mouths together.
No more words are necessary.
Zakary flips onto his back, and as he situates himself, he listens to the nightstand drawer flying open with a bang, the crinkle of a condom wrapper, and the popping open of his bottle of happy-private-time lube. Once ready, Jonatho hooks Zakary’s long legs over his shoulders, then gazes down at him. “Wow, what a view,” breathes Jonatho.