The moment the curtain falls after several standing ovations Alfonso lets out a breath he'd swear he's been holding all evening. They're a success and all his worries were for naught, everything having gone as smoothly as an opening night could go. Beaming he hugs and high-fives his fellow cast members, promising to see them at the party in an hour or so. After he changes and gets out of makeup. After he sees his lover. Not that anyone knows that, Christos having been introduced as a close friend and security from day one.
Christos waits as the theatre slowly empties, then he circles around to the side door. Security nods and lets him pass into the whirlwind of cast members and their families, friends, autograph-seekers. He knocks on the door to Alfonso's dressing room - one of the few private ones - and attempts to keep his expression neutral, friendly. Not unprofessionally ecstatic.
Alfonso answers the door, makeup remover in hand, eyes lighting up at the sight of Christos. "Come in," he says, motioning his lover into the room. "I got your roses. Gracias." The two dozen red flowers displayed prominently.
"Yeah? Good." The door swings shut and Christos embraces his lover, kissing Alfonso with a soft moan of need. "You were amazing."
"Gracias," Alfonso says again, unable to stop smiling even as he kisses Christos back, his body reacting instinctively to his lover's touch.
"I'm so proud of you. You were brilliant." Christos kisses Alfonso again, lingering for a moment before he makes himself pull back. "And the audience went crazy for you."
"They did, didn't they?" Alfonso says, knowing there's no point in being modest. It's clear the show's a resounding success - even before the reviews are in - and with their entire run already sold out, it's clear his fears were for nothing.
"Yeah." Christos laughs at the touch of smugness on Alfonso's face that he's just not able to conceal. "Here, you work on your makeup, and I'll help you with your costume," he says, unzipping his lover's trousers and slipping his hand inside.
Alfonso moans. "I'm not sure about your idea of helping..." he murmurs, although it's not definitely not a complaint. Not even close.
"I'm always helpful," Christos counters, tugging down Alfonso's briefs. "Just watch." He sinks to his knees and licks out at the head of his lover's cock, looking up to meet his eyes.
"Ay dios! You're a bad influence," Alfonso teases, sliding one hand through Christos's hair, his cock jerking against his lover's mouth.
Christos simply chuckles and nibbles his way down to the root, taking Alfonso's balls into his hand. Rolling them between his fingers as he scrapes his teeth over silken flesh.
Cursing under his breath again, Alfonso buries both hands in Christos's hair, holding himself as steady as he can.
"I want you to lose control for me," Christos says quietly, closing his hand around Alfonso's cock and stroking while he talks. "Very softly," he grins, "but very hard."
Alfonso nods, knees gone weak. "Please..."
It's one of Christos's favorite words. He spares his lover's dark eyes a last glance then renews his attentions, going down on Alfonso with a will. Sucking hard with a soft decadent moan and demanding response.
Alfonso can't tear his eyes away. The sight of Christos on his knees, of his mouth wrapped around his cock, permission already given... Alfonso thrusts into the wet heat of Christos's mouth, already overwhelmed, before crying out softly, a hand slapped out over his mouth as he comes and comes hard, just as ordered.
Christos swallows and growls his approval. Slowly he eases off, licking up every last stray drop of semen, then gets to his feet with a smug smile for his lover.
Still swaying a little, Alfonso just shakes his head at Christos even though he's smiling too. "Incorrigible," he says, reaching for Christos's hand and pulling him in close. "But I love you anyway," he teases.
"I adore you," Christos whispers, slipping his arms around Alfonso's waist. When he kisses him there's no urgency, despite his erection -- it's a tender kiss, slowly savoring his lover's mouth.
"Mm," Alfonso moans softly into the kiss. "We're going to be late for the party," he points out, not even trying to move.
"Is there a party?" Christos murmurs, losing himself in Alfonso's lips.
Alfonso nods, finally slipping one hand between them, palm pressed against Christos's chest. "Si, and I have to be there. As much as I would rather go home with you and forget about it."
That's enough for Christos. "Yes, my love," he says quietly with a smile. "We don't have parties every night. And everyone is waiting to tell you how amazing you are."
Alfonso smiles back. "Give me a few minutes to change and then we can go. We'll at least make an appearance before slipping out."
The party is being thrown in a posh nightclub, crowded with glittering people. Christos can't even tell if they're dressed up for themselves or for each other. But he nods and smiles in a polite way whenever his gaze crosses anyone's, trying not to feel like he's looming and out of place. And he reminds himself that it really doesn't matter, anyway -- this is all about Alfonso. Which is just fine with him. The hard part is keeping his hands to himself.
Alfonso shakes hand after hand, exchanging pleasantries with near-strangers and more with those he actually knows. He introduces Christos to everyone, identifying him as his friend, everyone politely dropping into English when they realize Christos doesn't speak Spanish, at least for a few words before they lapse back into their mother tongue, hands flying as they praise Alfonso's portrayal. "Gracias, muchas gracias," he says over and over.
Christos is picking up on a theme, definitely: words he knows and words he's learning fast. Brillante. Increíble. Inspirado. His smiles are more natural now, less forced, and he beams with pride for his lover. "Si, gracias," he says to a waiter who offers him a flute of champagne, but turns down an offer of anything heavier to drink.
Suddenly there's a lull, everyone having stepped away or moved on, and Alfonso turns to Christos with a smile, albeit an exhausted one. "This is when you wish it hadn't gone so well," he jokes. "Now I'm stuck, 6 days a week for the entire run."
"Good thing you love the work," Christos tells him with a grin.
"Claro," Alfonso says, grinning back. He glances at his watch. "Maybe half an hour more and we can go?"
"Whenever," Christos tells him with an easy shrug. "It's your night, your call." Another well-wisher tugs at Alfonso's elbow and for once instead of fading back a step, Christos stays right where he is. So fucking what if he's looming, it's a crowded club -- that's his story and he's sticking to it.
Alfonso signs a few more programs, shakes a few more hands, and introduces Christos to a few more people. By the end, he's exhausted, adrenaline crashing. "I'm going to say my goodbyes and we'll go," he tells Christos, letting his lover follow him as he says goodnight to those he needs to let know he's leaving.
Christos nods, watching him closely but trying not to reveal that he's doing so. He can tell his lover is tired, and he's impressed that Alfonso has put on such a good show after all the work he's done.
Done - in more ways than one - Alfonso turns to Christos with a smile and says, "Take me home?"
That smile is beautiful, lighting up Alfonso's tired eyes, and Christos smiles back. "Just a minute," he assures his lover, and pulls out his cell to call for the car. Soon they're making their way through the crowd and climbing into the black SUV, and then Christos closes the door to shut out the noise of the world.
"I am so done," Alfonso says, sinking into the back seat, his head against the leather.
"Ready to do it all again tomorrow?" Christos asks, slipping his arm around his lover's waist. One of the many benefits of hiring a Citadel car and driver.
"No," Alfonso answers instantly and then laughs. "Si. I'm glad it went well and I'll be excited tomorrow night. Right now, I'm just exhausted."
"Good. You've earned a good rest," Christos agrees, nudging Alfonso to relax against his shoulder.
"Wake me when we're home," Alfonso says, laying his head down and closing his eyes.