New York, Off-off-off-Broadway, May 1951 [AU Timeline]
Opening night had been fantastic. It was a smaller production, with a half the cast doubling roles, and the audience had been... sparsely populated, but the actual acting... Troy, backstage, alone finally after mingling with press and patrons. He couldn't remember the last time a show had felt this good.
No, he could: Kiss Me, Kate had been like this, before the blow-up. Before the supposed end of his career on stage.
He was back now, though, and starring in another show, a new adaptation of The Tempest, and things were going fantastically.
"Can you believe that?" his co-star exclaimed, Ryan, a young pup, new to the theatre; he had followed Troy in from the press of people. He reminded Troy of another Ryan, known long ago and far away. "I've never..." He collapsed backwards, leaning against the wall, a beatific smile on his face as he let the afterglow of a great performance rush over him. "That was... I don't have words for that. Is it like that every time?"
"Only the good ones," Troy replied, shaking his head. "I haven't had a night like that in ages." He leaned against the wall beside Ryan, just letting himself feel, afraid that if he let this go he'd return to being an unsuccessful hack teaching uninterested (and uninteresting) idiots who didn't know Macbeth from McDonald's. He turned his head, looking sideways at Ryan. "A bit like sex, isn't it?"
Ryan laughed. "I wouldn't know," he said, stretching his head upwards, unconsciously baring his neck as he stretched out. "I've never had sex."
"No?" Troy said, disbelieving. "Not once? Saving yourself for marriage, are you? Waiting for the right girl?"
Shaking his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes, Ryan said, "No. Waiting for the right guy." He leaned in, swiftly, before Troy could react, and kissed him.
Troy reacted instinctively, leaning in to Ryan, his lips moving against the younger man's, but when he felt Ryan's tongue pushing into his mouth, he pulled away. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, already a bit breathless. "I mean, I'm-"
"Shut up," Ryan declared, cutting off Troy's declaration of I'm too old for you or any of the other things he'd been about to say -- and then cut him off more firmly by moving back in for another kiss.
Tongues dancing together, Troy moved so that he was more firmly 'on top' of Ryan, getting more into this now that his objections were drowned. He pushed against Ryan, pushed him against the wall, ground their hips together -- felt a growing hardness through Ryan's loose pants, moaned slightly at the feel of soft material rubbing against his own swelling erection. His hands slipped down, under the hem of Ryan's shirt, and lifted it up, pulled away just long enough to remove it completely, and when he returned to Ryan's body he moved downwards, sucking and nipping at his long, arched neck, his hands sliding down Ryan's sides to slip into his pants, pull them away, out, down, let them pool at Ryan's feet as he thrust in again, only one layer of cloth between them now -- the director had insisted that all the guys go commando on stage for some completely unfathomable reason, but Troy wasn't complaining now, not when he was feeling like this--
Ryan's hands moved around to Troy's back, one coming up, cupping his neck, almost pushing Troy's face further into him, the other sliding down into the back of Troy's pants. He brought it between them, running along the line of Troy's hip, reaching around his length, grasping him, stroking, drawing guttural groans from Troy as Ryan pulled at him, slowly, softly at first but then grabbing harder, tighter.
Troy's hips bucked, and he pulled away to say, "God, I'd love to fuck your ass."
"Lube?" Ryan asked, new to sex, but having heard enough -- it's hard not to, in the theatre -- to know that anything else would be... uncomfortable.
Glancing around, Troy smiled and grabbed a tube from where it sat, just behind an exposed beam. "Emergency supply," he explained, even as he opened it, reached around to apply some to Ryan's ass. "We're not the first to fuck back here. It's a bit of a tradition, apparently." He grinned, pulled his pants down just enough to expose his straining, aching erection; lubed it up; put down the tube; lifted Ryan up by the hips, held him against the wall, and slid in.
"Oh, fuck!" exclaimed Ryan, wincing at the intrusion -- even just the head was more than he'd ever tried up there before: a finger or two, small things, just enough to tease and stretch a little. "That... just fuck."
Troy held back, knowing that first times could be tough -- though it had been more than twenty years since his own first time -- and as he felt Ryan start to relax, slid in a little tiny bit more. "Stop me if it gets to be too much," he said, paying careful attention to Ryan's body language, watching to see if he got too tense.
"No, no, it's fine," Ryan said, eyes shut, but as he felt Troy enter him, more and more, ever so slowly, it was less from wincing and more from the feeling of fullness, unfamiliar but far from uncomfortable. His face contorted as he acclimated, slowly falling into an expression of pleasure. And then Troy hit his prostate, and he moaned.
"Like that, do you?" Troy whispered, leaning in to lick, suck, at Ryan's ear. He pulled back a little bit and then pushed in again, making sure to thrust again against that one little spot. Ryan was leaking pre-come now, his cockhead slick with it, and Troy balanced Ryan against the wall as he reached between them to grab Ryan's cock and stroke it, make "God, you're tight," he said, and then he was all the way in. "Are you ready?" he asked, pulling out slowly until just his head remained inside. Ryan nodded, unable to speak, and Troy slid back in, bottoming out in one smooth motion.
He began a rhythm, slow at first, his hand between them matching it on Ryan's erection, but it wasn't long before he began to speed up. It had been far too long for him, and he could feel himself already starting to approach his peak.
Ryan wasn't too far off himself, the unfamiliar feelings already gone over into the most intense pleasure he'd ever felt, Troy's stroking hand far from slowing him down. "I'm... getting close," he gasped, even as Troy's mouth moved down to his neck again, biting lightly, an action that sent Ryan right over the edge. He shot off, his seed spreading between their chests, their stomachs, and it was enough to send Troy over the edge as well, thrusting upwards one last time, burying himself in Ryan, filling Ryan with his come.
They collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily, and as he slipped from Ryan's ass, Troy leaned into kiss Ryan, almost lazily. "That was fun," he said, a bit breathlessly. "We'll have to do it again sometime."
Excerpt: Interview, 1977. On Stage's Maya Freedman with Broadway's Troy Bolton
MF: You met your partner Ryan during a production of The Tempest, correct?
TB: Yes, that's correct. It was back in 1951. I'm still with Ryan now, obviously, and he's been of enormous assistance as I work on my theatre school. He's the second-best thing that's ever happened in my life.
MF: The second-best? I'd be afraid of him hearing that, if I were you. What's the best thing?
TB: The first happened to me back in high school. Ryan knows about it, but you wouldn't believe me if I told you. [There's a long pause.] If you ever read this, Sky? I never forgot you.
[Yes. Everyone else writes wibble-enducing lifetimes, and I write sex. :D But it felt more appropriate to Troy. ... I'm not sure what that says about Troy. Or me. Again, NWS. NFI, obviously NFB, OOC = <3, A² + B² = C².]
No, he could: Kiss Me, Kate had been like this, before the blow-up. Before the supposed end of his career on stage.
He was back now, though, and starring in another show, a new adaptation of The Tempest, and things were going fantastically.
"Can you believe that?" his co-star exclaimed, Ryan, a young pup, new to the theatre; he had followed Troy in from the press of people. He reminded Troy of another Ryan, known long ago and far away. "I've never..." He collapsed backwards, leaning against the wall, a beatific smile on his face as he let the afterglow of a great performance rush over him. "That was... I don't have words for that. Is it like that every time?"
"Only the good ones," Troy replied, shaking his head. "I haven't had a night like that in ages." He leaned against the wall beside Ryan, just letting himself feel, afraid that if he let this go he'd return to being an unsuccessful hack teaching uninterested (and uninteresting) idiots who didn't know Macbeth from McDonald's. He turned his head, looking sideways at Ryan. "A bit like sex, isn't it?"
Ryan laughed. "I wouldn't know," he said, stretching his head upwards, unconsciously baring his neck as he stretched out. "I've never had sex."
"No?" Troy said, disbelieving. "Not once? Saving yourself for marriage, are you? Waiting for the right girl?"
Shaking his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes, Ryan said, "No. Waiting for the right guy." He leaned in, swiftly, before Troy could react, and kissed him.
Troy reacted instinctively, leaning in to Ryan, his lips moving against the younger man's, but when he felt Ryan's tongue pushing into his mouth, he pulled away. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, already a bit breathless. "I mean, I'm-"
"Shut up," Ryan declared, cutting off Troy's declaration of I'm too old for you or any of the other things he'd been about to say -- and then cut him off more firmly by moving back in for another kiss.
Tongues dancing together, Troy moved so that he was more firmly 'on top' of Ryan, getting more into this now that his objections were drowned. He pushed against Ryan, pushed him against the wall, ground their hips together -- felt a growing hardness through Ryan's loose pants, moaned slightly at the feel of soft material rubbing against his own swelling erection. His hands slipped down, under the hem of Ryan's shirt, and lifted it up, pulled away just long enough to remove it completely, and when he returned to Ryan's body he moved downwards, sucking and nipping at his long, arched neck, his hands sliding down Ryan's sides to slip into his pants, pull them away, out, down, let them pool at Ryan's feet as he thrust in again, only one layer of cloth between them now -- the director had insisted that all the guys go commando on stage for some completely unfathomable reason, but Troy wasn't complaining now, not when he was feeling like this--
Ryan's hands moved around to Troy's back, one coming up, cupping his neck, almost pushing Troy's face further into him, the other sliding down into the back of Troy's pants. He brought it between them, running along the line of Troy's hip, reaching around his length, grasping him, stroking, drawing guttural groans from Troy as Ryan pulled at him, slowly, softly at first but then grabbing harder, tighter.
Troy's hips bucked, and he pulled away to say, "God, I'd love to fuck your ass."
"Lube?" Ryan asked, new to sex, but having heard enough -- it's hard not to, in the theatre -- to know that anything else would be... uncomfortable.
Glancing around, Troy smiled and grabbed a tube from where it sat, just behind an exposed beam. "Emergency supply," he explained, even as he opened it, reached around to apply some to Ryan's ass. "We're not the first to fuck back here. It's a bit of a tradition, apparently." He grinned, pulled his pants down just enough to expose his straining, aching erection; lubed it up; put down the tube; lifted Ryan up by the hips, held him against the wall, and slid in.
"Oh, fuck!" exclaimed Ryan, wincing at the intrusion -- even just the head was more than he'd ever tried up there before: a finger or two, small things, just enough to tease and stretch a little. "That... just fuck."
Troy held back, knowing that first times could be tough -- though it had been more than twenty years since his own first time -- and as he felt Ryan start to relax, slid in a little tiny bit more. "Stop me if it gets to be too much," he said, paying careful attention to Ryan's body language, watching to see if he got too tense.
"No, no, it's fine," Ryan said, eyes shut, but as he felt Troy enter him, more and more, ever so slowly, it was less from wincing and more from the feeling of fullness, unfamiliar but far from uncomfortable. His face contorted as he acclimated, slowly falling into an expression of pleasure. And then Troy hit his prostate, and he moaned.
"Like that, do you?" Troy whispered, leaning in to lick, suck, at Ryan's ear. He pulled back a little bit and then pushed in again, making sure to thrust again against that one little spot. Ryan was leaking pre-come now, his cockhead slick with it, and Troy balanced Ryan against the wall as he reached between them to grab Ryan's cock and stroke it, make "God, you're tight," he said, and then he was all the way in. "Are you ready?" he asked, pulling out slowly until just his head remained inside. Ryan nodded, unable to speak, and Troy slid back in, bottoming out in one smooth motion.
He began a rhythm, slow at first, his hand between them matching it on Ryan's erection, but it wasn't long before he began to speed up. It had been far too long for him, and he could feel himself already starting to approach his peak.
Ryan wasn't too far off himself, the unfamiliar feelings already gone over into the most intense pleasure he'd ever felt, Troy's stroking hand far from slowing him down. "I'm... getting close," he gasped, even as Troy's mouth moved down to his neck again, biting lightly, an action that sent Ryan right over the edge. He shot off, his seed spreading between their chests, their stomachs, and it was enough to send Troy over the edge as well, thrusting upwards one last time, burying himself in Ryan, filling Ryan with his come.
They collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily, and as he slipped from Ryan's ass, Troy leaned into kiss Ryan, almost lazily. "That was fun," he said, a bit breathlessly. "We'll have to do it again sometime."
Excerpt: Interview, 1977. On Stage's Maya Freedman with Broadway's Troy Bolton
MF: You met your partner Ryan during a production of The Tempest, correct?
TB: Yes, that's correct. It was back in 1951. I'm still with Ryan now, obviously, and he's been of enormous assistance as I work on my theatre school. He's the second-best thing that's ever happened in my life.
MF: The second-best? I'd be afraid of him hearing that, if I were you. What's the best thing?
TB: The first happened to me back in high school. Ryan knows about it, but you wouldn't believe me if I told you. [There's a long pause.] If you ever read this, Sky? I never forgot you.
[Yes. Everyone else writes wibble-enducing lifetimes, and I write sex. :D But it felt more appropriate to Troy. ... I'm not sure what that says about Troy. Or me. Again, NWS. NFI, obviously NFB, OOC = <3, A² + B² = C².]