Arcadian Dream

It was the same every night.

 

 

Julian knew that he had to, but part of him…part of him was nervous. If he looked, truly looked, he did not know what he might feel. Or what he might do. As he reached into the darkness of Noel’s hood, he extended his fingers.

 

Heat radiated powerfully from the stage lights, causing rounded beads of sweat to form on his forehead. Groping uncertainly for the prop hidden in the hood, Julian felt something. He felt the slippery warmth of Noel’s tongue wrapping itself around the tip of his finger. He felt the pulsating muscle, and the gentle sucking movement of Noel’s mouth.

 

This night, it was not the same.

 

 
It would never be the same again.