Performers

by Nix
(crimsonquills AT gmail DOT com)


"We need a good bottom," Chris announced.

Joey's brow wrinkled. He looked up from the book he'd been reading and craned his head back to look at Chris, who was sprawled on the bed Joey was leaning against. "Why?"

"Well," Chris launched into what appeared to be a pre-prepared argument, "we've got Lance," he gestured at the younger man, who was seated at a small reading table, poring over a newspaper, "who is a fantastic top. I mean, he walks onto the stage and the people in the audience practically go to their knees. Then we've got Justin," the man named was lying on his stomach next to Chris and didn't appear to be paying attention, "who is quite the showman, plus he has that 'kid' appeal. But he doesn't like to bottom, and the audience can tell. Then we've got me and Joey, who switch. You never know what you're going to get with us, right? Plus we're...creative," he grins. The other three grin back at him, even Justin. "But we haven't got a really showy bottom. A guy who makes the audience want to be topped, rather than be the top."

"He's got a point," Lance commented, putting down the newspaper. "Not that you guys aren't great, but there's always an element of...struggle when we're up on stage. Even in the scenes when you're supposed to be surrendering. It's not really something that you can fake."

"He's right," Chris pressed. "The audience can feel that undercurrent in our work."

"Hey," Justin argued, "that's what some of them come for, man."

"I'm not saying we throw it out," Chris defended, "just that we...diversify. Other groups, even couples, they're moving in on our market."

Justin chewed uncertainly on his bottom lip. Lance put the newspaper down and turned his full attention to the conversation. "I've been going over our accounts," he admitted, "and he's right. Attendance is down. Not much, but enough to make me wonder."

"And you think a new member will change that?" Joey asked doubtfully. "New member means more expenses, you know."

"If we decline much more," Lance pointed out, "we're going to have lost enough in the past two months to pay for the extra."

"I'll tell you what," Joey proposed, "we'll do some auditions. If we find the perfect guy, we'll go for it. If not, we stick to the four of us."

"Works for me," Chris agreed. "You in Lance? Justin?"

Lance frowned, but nodded. "Sure," Justin shrugged, "but he's gotta be perfect."

The started auditions the next week. Predictably, they got a lot of slackers, shitty performers who were either so new or so stupid that they didn't bring recent blood tests with them. The audience doesn't like to see condoms go on, everyone knows that. They want to see skin, sweat, pure sex. They're there to see a fantasy play out. Condoms are a part of real life. They've got no place in fantasy.

Same with lube, unless it's specifically a part of the fantasy. That's why nearly half of those that actually remember the blood test got rejected when they stripped down and weren't already ready.

The guys picked who would top during the audition on an applicant-to-applicant basis. Sometimes one of them would take one look at the guy and just want him. Sometimes they'd have to vote. Sometimes they just knew one of them would be better suited to bring out the bottomish characteristics in the applicant.

That's, more or less, what happened when JC walked into the room. More or less.

He was dressed in black slacks, a black sleeveless shirt and black boots. The boots had zippers up the sides instead of laces, which was a good sign. The bad sign was his attitude. He walked in grinning, cocky, almost flirting with the four of them.

"Fuck, this guy thinks he's a bottom?" Justin muttered, carefully looking over the blood test he'd provided.

Joey took the paperwork and looked it over carefully. "That's what he says. Hey, we got to give him a fair shot, right?"

Lance eyed JC, who'd gone to sit on the edge of the stage, and smiled a little. "I'll take him."

"You're gonna have to," Chris chuckled. "I think he's gonna need our best top."

"All right," Joey called to JC, "Lance here," he motioned to Lance, "is going to be topping you. No scenario, we just want to see how you react. All right?"

"All right," JC called back, running an appraising eye over Lance. He smiled a little and looked up mock-coyly through his lashes.

"Stand up," Lance said. JC stood. Lance tugged on the front of his shirt and they climbed onto the stage together. Lance tugged JC's shirt over his head and tossed his aside. Other than raising his arms, JC remained still, just smiling a little.

Lance leaned in and kissed him. None of the other guys did, and they weren't sure why Lance always wanted to. It was the first thing he did with any of the applicants, and if they didn't like it, they weren't good enough for him. They lost a lot of guys early on because of that.

JC wasn't one of them. From the moment Lance's lips touched his he seemed to melt. One minute he was cocky and arrogant, the next tension they hadn't even been aware of melted out of his body and he became almost malleable. The kiss went on forever, deep and wet and hungry.

Lance's hands slid around JC's waist and cupped his ass, pulling him hard against Lance. JC gasped and smiled a little into the kiss. A moment later Lance abandoned JC's mouth and applied his lips to his neck. JC tilted his head back, surrendering to the caress and pushing his hips harder against Lance's groin in the same movement.

JC's movements were sinuous, graceful. Even his hands, fisted in the back of Lance's shirt, seemed a part of the flow. Lance explored JC with his tongue, his hands kneading the other man's ass almost roughly. JC was flushed, his eyes half closed. He rocked his groin against Lance continually. He was loud in his pleasure, cries of pleasure and want and need coming unashamed.

His vocalness seemed to light a fire under Lance. He pulled back and shed his own top, not even bothering with the buttons, in half the time he'd taken with the others he'd auditioned. Beads of sweat trailed down JC's neck and chest. They caught the light, drawing attention to the planes and curves of JC's skin.

Lance couldn't seem to resist them. He licked the sweat from JC's neck, from his chest, from his belly. His fingers dipped into the crease of JC's ass even through the fabric of his pants. JC threw his head back and moaned. The sound seemed to undo Lance. He stripped off all their clothing and, one arm hooked around JC's neck, one hand cupping his ass, drew him in for a kiss that hand him pressing his whole body against JC.

JC rubbed, catlike, against Lance. Soft rumbles of pleasure emerging from his chest enhanced the image. Then he was sinking down onto his knees. Lance's hands tangled in his hair, urging him toward Lance's hard and flushed cock.

JC stroked the organ with his cheek and his lips before taking it into his mouth. He teased at first, licking lightly, taking only the head between his lips and sucking on it. But when Lance pressed impatiently on his head he slid all the way down the shaft in one smooth motion. Lance cried out at that and thrust involuntarily. JC didn't even gag, just closed his eyes and, hands gripping the back of Lance's thighs, started to work in earnest.

Lance panted, his hips jerking forward every now and then. Eventually he stepped back. "Enough," he said, his voice rough. He pulled JC to his feet and spun him around. One hand in the middle of JC's back had him bent over a stand placed in the middle of the stage. He wrapped his hands around the handles on it without instruction.

Lance ran his hand over JC's ass and slipped his fingers into the tempting crevice. A low moan told those watching that JC was ready, slick and prepared to be fucked. Lance impaled him in one long, smooth motion. JC cried out, his whole body rolling back towards Lance, driving him deeper.

Lance was sweating himself now and breathing hard. He took a moment, hands gripping JC's hips tightly, to regain control. "You're tight," he murmured in wonder. Most of the professional bottoms they'd tried were pretty loose from being taken so often. JC had claimed to have the same experience... "So tight," Lance moaned. He withdrew almost all the way, his cock glistening with lube and pre-cum, and plunged back into JC with another piercing stroke.

JC, gripping the stand for leverage, was past coherency. He radiated ecstasy. Every stroke of Lance within him garnered a cry of pleasure or a moan of need. He rocked back into the strokes as hard as he could. Lance took him hard and deep, burying himself in that tight heat again and again, hating to leave it, delighting in his return.

Soon tension began to show in Lance's frame. His thrusts grew more irregular. JC murmured something their audience couldn't hear, but whatever it was, Lance licked his lips.

Lance was on the brink of orgasm when he leaned down and laid his lips against JC's shoulder. A moment later, as his release rippled through his body, he bit JC on the shoulder. Hard. JC came explosively, shudders of completion wracking his body.

When it had passed, the two of them clung to each other and the stand just to remain semi-upright.

Justin, Chris and Joey could only stare for a long time. Lance seemed to be petting JC as the two of them recovered. Long, soothing strokes from his chest down to his thigh. JC was smiling a little. Satisfaction oozed from them both.

"That was fucking incredible," Justin eventually said. Chris and Joey nodded wordlessly.

"I take it that means he's in?" Lance asked, smiling.

"Yeah," Chris managed. Joey nodded again.

"Good," Lance said and then, speaking to JC, "because I don't think I can let you go."

"And I know I don't want to be anywhere else," JC sighed softly. The two of them finally straightened up. JC turned to face Lance and kissed him deeply.

The other three knew that Lance wouldn't be sleeping alone. Not that night, not any night after that.