THE DRAMA CLUB, part two

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Drama Club is a work of fiction and all characters are imaginary. The story involves sex between teens so if that's illegal or offensive for you to read, don't. Author retains all rights. DO NOT download/copy/post/link to any site or otherwise reproduce this story without written permission from the author. TragicRabbit does not intend the story to condone any activity or group the characters are involved with; likewise, the opinions or actions of the characters are not meant to reflect beliefs of the author.

"How now, mad spirit! What night rule now about this haunted grove?"--

Called a strong voice as Angel dropped his backpack onto the Green Room floor beside red-haired Jenny. Angel grinned and spoke his line to Anthony, who was looking to him expectantly, now in jeans but still wearing his stage makeup and Oberon laurel.

"My mistress with a monster is in love!", answered Angel merrily, his eyes alight.

Anthony laughed and pointed at Joey, sprawled on the floor near his feet.

"'Monster', that's for damn sure," said Anthony.

Joey blew him kisses, and then swatted the jean-clad leg beside him.

"Hey, I look good as an ass, ya gotta admit." said Joey with a smile.

"Joey, you're always an ass, nothing's different when you play Bottom." interjected Camille from her seat on Doug's lap. Doug grinned.

"Speaking of bottoms..." Doug said, stroking his hands down her thighs and wiggling his eyebrows at the rest of the cast. His punishment was Camille turning around and planting a noisy kiss on his lips.

Jaye entered the room behind Angel, just as Ms. Robi entered the Green Room from the hallway where she'd been talking to parents. She sat down heavily, placing her director's script on the desk before her.

"Everyone here?" she asked, peering around the room through her thick glasses. She was a plump old woman, astonishingly short, but her eyes were full of life, as always, when she was with the drama kids. Most of them thought of her as something like the ancient silent-screen stars she often talked about, some kind of faded Norma Desmond who had the weird luck to land in a high school backstage madhouse. Her stage and screen stories could get long-winded but never failed to captivate the kids. Everyone loved her and all the younger kids were ready to love her by the time they arrived at Northside High School. The Drama Club tolerated nothing else.

Jenny spoke up. "I think so, Ms. Robi, except for Bobby, Trey and some of the techies."

Bobby chose that moment to walk in the door behind Jenny and take up a seat beside Angel and Jaye against the wall. Angel placed his hand on Bobby's leg without glancing at him, looking around the brightly lit room where they had class on weekdays and got ready for performances at night. The room wasn't big but was full of light from the fluorescents overhead and their reflections in the two long walls of mirrors, lined all the way down with round light bulbs to help with makeup application. The room felt useful, felt safe. It was home to so many of the drama kids during the year, more so than family rooms at most of their parents' houses. No one ever really wanted to go home and usually signed up for anything so that they could be in the Performing Arts building; weekends, summer break, it didn't matter. It was a kind of family all by itself.

Jaye was leaning back against the wall, eyes shut, either deep in thought or half asleep, it was hard to tell. His hair and skin were still damp and his Reeboks untied. Carston was putting away the stray pots and jars of makeup scattered over the long mirrored counters, helped by the blonde twins, Lori and Lisa. They'd both been cheerleaders until the drama bug bit them last year but they were coming over to the Dark Side fast. Lori paused in her cleanup occasionally to lean into the mirrors and add some eyeliner and blush onto her freshly showered face. She played one of the lovers in Midsummer and it was her first real role. Bobby leaned into Angel, placing his head against the other boy's shoulder with a small sigh. They were all a little tired but they couldn't go home until Ms. Robi went over the night's performance with cast and crew. Trey and two other techies walked in, finally, and they could begin. Ms. Robi coughed and reached for her notes.

"I'm glad we got through tonight but it's late and we have a lot to go over." Ms. Robi said in her querulous voice.

"I'll try to hit the highlights before we go home, then we can finish up tomorrow in classes. I'll print out some notes for the principals to hand out in the morning so stop by my office before first period." She paused, running her left hand through her grayed hair and pushing her heavy glasses up her nose, peering out again.

"Tech notes first. Trey, there were some serious problems we need to fix fast before opening night tomorrow."

Trey nodded and picked up his own notes. Trey was head techie on this and most productions, in part because he was so organized and worked well with Ms. Robi and John. He was slight, barely outweighing Camille, but tough and direct. He had piercing green eyes and looked even younger than his 17 years. Angel always wondered if he were straight or just disinclined to date. He'd never seen Trey show interest in either gender, which was odd for this bunch. Whatever works for him, Angel thought, but it really does seem a shame. Trey was seriously cute.

He became aware, again, of Bobby's head on his shoulder and Jaye stretched out on his other side. Bobby was the more beautiful, by far, but also more erratic. He could be an amazing amount of fun for days on end but then spend the next two weeks barely grunting hello to his friends. He'd grown six feet tall since the eighth grade and had broad shoulders, a graceful neck and features so fine they were almost classical. His hair was a soft mess of light brown curls around his ears and down the nape of his neck.

Right now, those curls were against Angel's cheek, providing sensory distraction from Ms. Robi's critiques. Jaye, dozing on his right side, combined to remove most of his ability to think clearly. Jaye was muscled like a swimmer from weekends spent in his parents' pool, hair bleached to summer wheat and skin lightly tanned. He had an easy sexuality about him, dropping catlike into his famously lazy poses, draped across anything and anyone handy. Between the show and the shower and the sex, Jaye was too tired now to keep his eyes open. So he didn't. Angel struggled with his own, focused on the director out of respect, if nothing else. The earlier mental charge was waning. God, it was late. Tomorrow would be a long Thursday, waiting for opening night to creep upon them like adieu.

"Come, now a roundel and a fairy song;

Then, for the third part of a minute, hence;

Some, to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds;

Some, war with rere-mice for their leathern wings,

To make my small elves coats; and some, keep back

The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots and wonders,

At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep;

Then to your offices, and let me rest."

Angel slid his clothes off and reached for the towel. He moved easily through the gym dressing area to the showers; naked, erect, unembarrassed, raking out his longish black hair with slender fingers. His thoughts were a hum of nothing, a white noise of blank contentment. Naked boys moved around him like forest spirits, dressing and undressing in a haze of murmuring voices; all glowing with tanned heat and supple muscles. Hard bodies brushed against his as he strode across the bare tiles, lockers in a dim distance, the rooms suffused with warm rosy light, a strange westering sunset.

He stood naked under the showers, feeling the spray against his olive skin, feeling the other boys around him, almost sensing them with his skin itself; their heat, their voices. Arms brushed against him, a smooth chest, a glancing hand. Why was the shower so crowded? A calm overtook those thoughts as a storm overtook his groin. His skin felt alive, on fire.

A hand trailed down his back as another's buttocks made contact with him. Bodies wet and glistening in the glowing half-light touched his, glanced off, and touched again. His balls tightened and relaxed, again and again, as he stroked his own stomach under the water. Skin against his, moving, grasping. Relax, there's no rush, he thought, but his body zinged with a pulsing energy. Fingers touched his nipples, pinching hard, then gently, then harder again. He throbbed and ached, leaking, almost painfully erect. He felt someone's hard organ press against the small of his back and another seemed to find the fingers of his left hand. He clasped hard and felt the head throbbing against his palm. His right hand reached out, he felt muscle and water and boy. He gasped as he felt a tongue on his neck, and turned. A boy he couldn't clearly see kissed him, sucking Angel's tongue into his mouth.

Hands moved down his body, so many hands, so many mouths, building a kind of fire in him, centered on his groin but radiating outward with a white heat. Boys of summer, brush cut, tanned and smooth, hard muscles and harder cocks, moved in and out of his awareness as he felt himself awakening to the core. Mouth after mouth touching his lips, pulling at his tongue, trailing down his wet body in a delicious frisson of feeling. He heard a low groan, was it his own voice? He moaned louder, the hand on him jerking faster as he felt himself contract against his body.

The water, the dimming light, the hard chests and arms and legs against him, made his knees weak and his head spin. He felt the orgasm coming up from his guts, a kind of forceful fire that soothed as it burned, salving the ache. The cock in his hand erupted against his thigh; he felt the heat hit his skin like napalm as the mouth on his pulled at his tongue. His own fire shot out, again and again, as he groaned into the mouths and bodies, barely seen. Oh, god, yes. Christ. Rosy light dimmed as he squeezed shut his eyes with the force of his climax.

He woke to the spurting shots against the sheets, left hand on his own dick, shocked at the scene change but unable to stop as his body ran it's course. He emptied across his belly, sheets feeling rough, mind gone temporarily blank. The room was dark. Lights from his computer were glowworms in the night, blinking green and orange. As his body relaxed, sated and weak, he fell back into his pillow and closed his eyes.

His mind slid over the dream, picking at images, wondering. Why do I dream of the gym shower full of naked jocks, he asked himself harshly. I fucking hate those guys. A duck pond lay between the P.E. building and Performing Arts at Northside but it should have been a moat and drawbridge. Those assholes wouldn't have one brain between them even if they shared and it didn't goddamn matter that they looked good. They didn't look that damn good. Lots of drama guys looked better. I hate them, he told himself angrily.

Last week, as usual, a few of them, varsity football noncomps, pushed my books out of my hands as I rushed late into English. Typical. Morons. I could usually hear their juvenile attempts at insult, never terribly creative. `Fag' was pretty popular. Fucking limited vocab. Too many years of wearing tight jocks. Brainless idiots. I hate them in my dreams. Or rather, I hate them invading my dreams but, in my dreams, I don't hate them. I want them. God, I'm glad I don't have to take P.E. anymore but I wish I didn't see them in the halls. Fucking assholes, he thought; his usual P.E. Building summation.

Angel sat up in the dark and looked at the digital clock bleeding red beside his bed. Five A.M. Fuck. Too late, or rather, too early to go back to sleep but damned if he wanted to get up now. Hell. He pushed off the covers and padded naked into the bathroom, flipping on the light. Bright white and gleaming, the room contrasted with his thoughts. He hated mornings. He emptied his bladder, easing down his still half-hard cock, and thought about the day ahead. Thursday. Opening night tonight. He wanted to stay home but had too much to do at school today. Ms. Robi would be seriously pissed if he skipped.

With a sigh, he flushed the toilet and pulled back the shower curtain, reaching for the controls. He let it run awhile to warm up and went to the sink to brush his teeth. He looked at his reflection and decided he didn't need to shave this morning, he could do it before tonight's performance. He smoothed toothpaste onto his purple toothbrush and slid it into his mouth. In his head, the song from Oklahoma! played "Oh, what a beautiful morning...oh, what a beautiful day. I've got a beau-ti-ful feeeeling...everything's goin' my way." Sheesh, what a cornball. He spat out the toothpaste and smiled at himself. Today was going to take forever but tonight would be worth it.

Angel arrived at school early and went straight to the drama room, their erstwhile Green Room. Ms. Robi wasn't around, and was most likely in her office, but John was there, going over tech notes with Trey, Angie and Kit, the more dedicated tech students. Angel thought of John as the Dance teacher but he also taught Tech. Jenny sat on the floor, surrounded by textbooks, hunched over something she was writing hurriedly. Like Angel, she hadn't done any homework last night. Some teachers let that slide for drama kids during a performance but definitely not all. Some teachers just didn't think theatre was that important. Angel sat down beside Jenny on the floor, pulling his own books and paper out of his backpack. Time to catch up.

An hour later, Bobby walked into the main drama room and chucked down his pack, looking around him. Tech kids clustered around the desk with John; Angel and Jenny took up a lot of floor space to the right. He paused, looking at them. Jenny was pretty, freckled with long, straight red hair that nearly brushed her ass when she walked. She hated her freckles and the wide hips that kept her from dancing ballet alongside Camille in real theatre companies. She wore white today, a ruffled blouse, open at the neck, and faded jeans. Angel contrasted with her, wearing tight black jeans and a silky black shirt that hung loose on his slender frame. Angel was medium tall, shorter than Bobby himself, but gracefully slim and elegant in every gesture. His long fingers moved expressively when he spoke, punctuating his words in the air, drawing attention to his glossed nails.

Angel wore makeup today, but not a lot, deep kohl eyeshadow with black liner that made his eyes look electric, engaging. Something colorless and slightly shiny on his lips. Right now, his black hair fell across his cheek as he leaned into a textbook, pen in hand, his hair shining in the overhead light, lightly moussed and a little past his collar. Bobby suddenly wanted to run his fingers through it, to feel its silky rough texture. Angel's face, leaning down, was angular but not delicate, somehow masculine despite the paint. Full lips gave him a kind of innocent sexual heat, especially when, as now, he would bite the lower one gently in thought. Bobby felt a tightening somewhere inside him. Was it his crotch or was it his heart? And what was the difference sometimes? He leaned down close to Angel's ear and whispered past the enticing black hair that fell across it.

"Good morning, Angel. Busy?" he breathed, almost inaudibly.

Angel looked up into his eyes and smiled lazily, reading Bobby's thoughts with those sparkling black eyes. Jenny ignored them, working steadily through a long series of math problems. She had math first period and couldn't afford another F.

"You're up early." Angel observed.

"Couldn't sleep. You?" Bobby asked.

Angel laughed softly.

"You could say that. Want to grab a cigarette with me?" Angel asked Bobby.

Bobby nodded, watching Angel set down his pen and stand in one fluid movement. He wore black boots with a dull leather shine, slightly heeled; almost cowboy boots but somehow a little more elegant than that. The black clothes against that olive skin made Bobby swallow reflexively. He was always aroused in the morning and hadn't taken time to do anything about it before coming to school. Angel was always something of a temptation, though, so it probably wouldn't have made much difference. Bobby followed the other boy out of the Green Room and on out the side door to the drama parking lot and around the building to the back.

Angel slid a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, wiggling slightly to get them out of their tight restraint, and handed one to Bobby. Benson and Hedges Menthol. Bobby really hated cigarettes but loved time alone with Angel. He took the proffered cigarette and watched Angel light his own, then leaned down to share the flame. His eyes met Angel's, close and unexpected. He flushed and pulled back, taking a long shaky drag on the cigarette in his mouth; eyes still on Angel's.

Angel smiled like a cat and leaned back into the building wall, his long black-clad legs spread slightly for balance. His shirt lay open on his smooth chest, several buttons undone, and a small gold crucifix on a chain lay in the hollow of his throat, bright against his dark complexion. Bobby swallowed hard, again, then coughed. Damn cigarettes. Angel's jeans were tight across his crotch. Were they getting tighter? He alternately focused, and then was distracted yet again by some small movement of the other boy's body. Angel looked hot but Bobby almost hated the effect it had on him.

This time of morning, it was usually quiet backstage. Bobby and Angel must have realized that at the same time, then smiled into each other's eyes wordlessly. Angel leaned back, enjoying the scrutiny, and felt arousal steal up on him again, a cat stalking in the grass. Bobby was just too damn good looking to ignore, not that he wanted to. Time to check out backstage. Angel dropped his cigarette on the grass and ground it out with his boot heel. Bobby tossed his down and followed as Angel led the way back into the building, through the drama room and out into the shop. They brushed past the heavy black velvet curtains and walked onto the backstage. As they stepped out of the shop area, the floor went straight to flat black, matching the curtains and walls of the backstage. Pulleys, wires, ropes and hooked weights seemed to be a kind of skeleton, supporting a creature fretted with ropes and skinned in a black so deep it subdued all light.

The boys moved further in, going backstage right and up the curling ladder to the bank of pulleys against a wall, one level up from the stage. It was dark, secret, and silent with the many heavy curtains muffling the sounds of their feet on the stair. They stopped on the platform and turned to look at one another in the darkness. Muted light from the panel below gave some illumination, throwing the planes of their faces into shadow. Bobby smiled with more certainty this time and pulled Angel to him, arms around his lithe waist.

Angel leaned into him, putting his face into the taller boy's neck . He smelled Bobby's soap and cologne and skin. He darted his tongue out to lick. Bobby flinched and giggled, squeezing Angel closer. His hands slid down Angel's body to his rear, pulling him closer, grinding his pelvis into him. They were both rock hard and pressing against each other, each uncomfortably tight in their jeans. Bobby, breathing raggedly, pulled back and placed one hand inside Angel's shirt and the other against the bulge in his jeans, squeezing slightly, then releasing. Angel moaned softly. He wanted to kiss Bobby but knew that wasn't allowed. Bobby had issues. Right now Angel's issues were centered on his dick.

Angel brushed his hand across Bobby's crotch, feeling the hardness there, listening to Bobby's sharp intake of breath. Bobby reached for him and unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling over the metal buttons. Angel pulled back slightly and reached for his own fly, unbuttoning and unzipping slowly, watching Bobby watch him in the faint light. Angel pushed his jeans down just over his pelvic bones and freed himself from the briefs, pushing them down into the scrunched jeans, leaving his front bare.

Bobby trailed his hand from Angel's neck, down his chest, across his stomach and lightly cupped him; now breathing very hard, loud in the silence. Angel's erection stood upward from his body, arced slightly and very hard, leaking clear fluid at the tip. He reached his hand up to the back of Bobby's neck and pulled gently, coaxing him downwards. Bobby gasped, swallowed and knelt down in front of Angel, hand still on him.

He stared at what was in front of his face, his other hand on his own organ, still encased in jeans. He flicked his tongue across the head, tasting the liquid there, running his tongue around the head and down the shaft. He felt Angel grow even harder as he gently pulled, massaging, while licking up and down, trying to taste it all, unable to think. He drew his hand back and unzipped his own pants, freeing the hardness there. One hand on himself, he took Angel into his mouth and sucked gently, then took more, sucking harder, running his tongue around and under.

Angel tasted good. He slid more down his throat, trying not to gag but wanting more, needing to feel that hardness inside him. His hand was jacking between his legs in rhythm with what his mouth was doing. He heard Angel groan aloud as he took him deeper into his mouth, exerting more suction, squeezing with his mouth and throat as he did. Angel pushed into him; hand back on his neck, needing more, wanting more. A groan escaped Angel's lips again as Bobby moved up and down on the shaft, taking in as much as he could without choking.

Bobby was so close. The idea of what he was doing never failed to drive him over the edge faster than he wanted. On his knees with Angel in his mouth was almost more vivid a thought than he could stand. He jacked himself faster as he plunged on and off Angel, tasting the other boy over and over again, the sweet fluid coming heavier now. He felt himself constrict and knew it was happening, felt the world collapsing into that one single sensation of his hand on his dick, erupting and the cock in his mouth, all joined like a current. He pumped faster as he felt Angel's own release starting, felt the twitch in his mouth, as he began to spurt out across and through the metal platform floor. Bobby pulled his face away and pushed Angel to the side, not wanting that in his mouth.

Even in the dim light, as he held tight to Angel, he could see it leave him explosively, arcing out across the empty backstage, catching the scant light as it fell. His own aftershocks still occupied his body. Both boys were silent as they felt the dark backstage world slowly coalesce into recognizable forms, their internal whirlwinds dying down. Abruptly Bobby stood and, without a word, zipped his pants and started down the curved stairwell to the stage proper.

Angel still stood, one hand on a railing, looking after him in silence. Finally, as Bobby disappeared behind the curtains, Angel buttoned his shirt, tucked himself back into his briefs and pulled his pants up, zipping and buttoning. Good thing I'm not a romantic or Bobby's attitude would piss me off, he thought with a twinge of sadness. Angel made his own exit, stage right, into the bright hallway just as the first bell rang for class.

[End of Part 2]

Other fiction/poetry by Tragic Rabbit, including the Drama Club spoof chapter `The Farewell Tour' and regular Drama Club chapters before they hit Nifty are available only at:



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