Shadowplay

The man paced. It all went under the business of being a manager, but sometimes he just wanted to run away from it. This particular situation was more trouble than the rest. This one didn't have particularly good looks, which were helpful, he just had sandy blond hair and no makeup whatsoever to enhance his otherwise plain features. And he tended to be sarcastic and self centered, so there wasn't much to counteract his looks. He was a damn good singer, though, and the man prided himself on his salesmanship. It was frustrating, though, especially right now.

"You're sure you can't play on that Thursday?"

"I'm sure. I wouldn't be telling you if I wasn't."

"Shit. What the hell am I supposed to tell the place?"

"Tell them we'll play the next Tuesday, that was the other option."

He sighed. "God, Ean, why didn't you tell me that in the first place?"

"You didn't ask."

He started toward Ean exasperatedly, but Ean abruptly grabbed him, pulled him in, and kissed him. Ean pulled away before he had time to react, leaving him extremely confused and with no knowledge of what facial expression he was wearing at the moment. It didn't seem to be a refusing one though, judging by the arrogantly pleased face that Ean had put on.

Ean left the room, and the manager paced faster."What the hell am I supposed to do with you?"

An answer, though he didn't care for one. "Train me. Sculpt me into an idol, make me famous. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Ean seemed to enjoy being disconcerting. He left again, and this time the manager heard the door slam.

The next times they saw each other, they were with company, and the manager tried his best to ignore the other man. He knew the man's eyes were on him, though, and for all his plain looks, he had the strongest gaze of anyone the manager had ever met.

"Chris. Chris? I said, we have a song we'd like to show you. All right?"

"Sorry. Really? Yes, I'd like to hear it." He shook his head slightly and followed the band into the next room.

He didn't manage to "avoid" Ean for very long, though. The man was really the brains of the band, and so he had reason to meet alone with the band's manager. And Chris couldn't refuse. That would let Ean know it had affected him, and that was exactly what the man wanted to hear.

He wasn't surprised at Ean, but though he expected it to happen, he still was not prepared.

"So, know any new bands that I should look at?"

"No." Chris didn't. Nothing I'd seen recently was much good, except them. And he was not going to tell him that.

"All right." He leaned over. "What are you doing?"

Chris looked down. His hand was clasping a pen, and he seemed to have drawn a tower on his piece of paper.

"It looks like a dick."

"No, it's a tower."

"Right. I believe you." Ean slid his hand lazily across Chris's back.

Chris froze, tried to convince himself that leaving would be good, but didn't quite manage.

Lips crushed themselves against his, tongues exchanged mouths, hands ran under shirts, reaching across shifting torsos. Ean was strong, and his touch was almost reassuring. Almost, until Chris remembered the insistence behind it. He lost himself for a moment, just let it all happen, until his hands reached something that was not skin. He puzzled around it, reaching, before discovering what this strange texture was. The top of a pair of pants, belt buckle, button. No. He was married. They both were, actually, Ean only six months previously. This was all wrong anyway, it should go no further. He pulled away from the other man. No, this would not do.
Ean looked puzzled at first, but kissed him once more and left with a cocky smile on his face, same as before.

"Damn you, Ean. You conceited bastard. Why are you doing this to me?" Chris sank his head into his hands. "And why the hell am I going along with it?"

He didn't know. And he didn't have the same restraint the next time.