He kisses you!
In rehearsals, in front of everyone. He leans in, and then, instead of puffing Gauloise scented air in your face, he kisses you. The beard is rough against your mouth and you can’t do anything but open up for more.
He leaves you empty.
You’re hard. You gaze at that laughing pretty-prettiest face and you enjoy hating him. You lick the taste of him off your lips like he’s Chocolat and get harder.
If it wasn't for the costume you’d be showing everyone the extent of your desire. You think this small world suspects anyway. The most painful thing of all is that you know he knows. You’ve told him your dark-darkest secrets--stories of New Zealand beach blowjobs and broken down hearts--and he’s leaned in and listened while you’ve shared his dope and his best blood-red claret.
He smiles at you, full of Jack Sparrow pride. White sharp teeth and dark shark eyes shine brightly and you want him to devour you whole. You’re so angry now that hate and lust and love stand in line, vying for attention and your cock enjoys them all.
You kiss him and he opens his mouth.
DONE