Work Text:
The Spirit of 1776
by Pirate Turner
He watched with breath held in amazement as his lover danced across the stage. He leaned so far forward that the seat only barely touched him, bringing the woman next to him to whisper, "If you're not careful, you're going to fall out of your chair!" Her eyes were wide as she watched the young man in surprise for although she'd often heard the phrase, she'd never seen one come so close to making it a reality.
"I don't care," Eric hissed back, his eyes never leaving John Addams. "He's amazing!" His heart jumped as he watched the elder man swing his legs out in the dance steps he wished he'd had a chance to see him practice. Watching him now, he couldn't believe that he'd thought he had been wasting his time to perform this patriotic play in honor of the Fourth. The time he spent dancing was clearly anything but wasted, and Eric began to breathe again, his breathing hard and labored pants as he ached to have gotten to feel his lover dance. His hands curled on his knees in their need to reach out and grasp what was so rightfully his.
"He is," the blonde woman agreed. "All that dancing and thrusting . . . " She sighed in clear want. "I can just imagine what he'd be like in the bed!"
Those words caused Eric to spring to a straight sitting position, and he turned with fire blazing in his eyes to look scornfully at the frilly female. "That's all you'll do too."
She batted her eyes. "Excuse me?"
"Keep dreaming," he countered, "because you'll never lay a finger on him."
"Oh, really? Care to bet?"
He shook his head, his thick, brown hair flying about his handsome but angered face. "I'm not betting with you. I'm not betting on my man." At the woman's wide-eyed, puzzled expression, he continued, his pride surging with each spoken word, "That's right. My man. Feeny's mine! You can look all you want, but when it comes to having him in the bed, lady, all you can do is dream."
Eric ignored the woman's squeak of outraged protest and turned his full attention back to his shining beloved as he began to sing again. His words washed over him, and from then on, for Eric, there was only Feeny on that community stage and he himself in the audience. He watched in raptured silence, the woman's words falling on deaf ears.
Finally realizing that she would get nowhere with the boy, the blonde hushed and returned her own attention to the play, but when the chorus of waiting for an eaglet to hatch began, she found her attention being drawn back to the lad beside her for with each "chirp", she noticed a slight jump in the boy. Her eyes fell to his tightening jeans, and she licked her lips as she watched him jump with each "chirp".
When the play was over, she tried again to speak to him, but Eric had no time for the blonde bombshell as he jumped from his seat and raced through the dispersing crowd for the backstage area. He exploded into the area like a firecracker shooting off, pushing his way through until, at last, he found the star he sought. His eyes met Feeny's across the small sea of people, and, grinning from ear to ear, Eric announced only, "Chirp!"
Feeny's eyebrows rose. He'd hope his love would like the play but never thought to find him so excited that his breathing was labored, his face sheening with sweat, his chest puffed with pride, and his eyes filled with lust. He opened his mouth to speak but had no time as Eric descended upon him like a whirlwind, his hands boldly roaming and caressing his body and his lips feasting upon his mouth with wild abandon.
Although Eric had clearly forgotten they were not alone, Feeny had not by far. His hands thrust wildly about as he tried at first to pull Eric from him and then gave in, resting on his boy's shoulders and beginning to slowly return his touches with caresses that were considerably softer but still filled with every bit as much loving. His lips timidly began to return his kiss, but still after only a couple of minutes, he forced himself to pull back. "Eric," he gasped, his own breathing now labored, "are you sure about this?"
Eric's eyes sparkled as they gazed into his. "I've never been surer of anything before, Feeny!" He paused for a moment, gasping for breath, then struggled to make his love see his point of view, "George, you said we had to wait. We've waited for years. I'm a grown man, totally able to make my own decisions. If my parents don't like it, if my brother doesn't like it, if anybody else doesn't like it . . . Who cares?! I don't! I love you, and your act tonight just reminded me of that fact and why I do for so many, many reasons!" He kissed him again, a lighter peck this time, as he waited, heart pounding, for his response.
"SIT DOWN, JOHN!"
George glared over Eric's shoulder at his castmates and relaxed only a little when he saw that they wore grins and several were chuckling. None minded his beloved's youthful antics, but it no longer mattered. Eric was right: He was a grown man, and it was far past time they stopped hiding. Feeny tossed his head proudly as he exclaimed loudly, "NEVER!"
Gazing back into Eric's eyes and beginning to stroke his shoulders and back, he asked, "Now where were we, mon amour?"
"Right where we belong," Eric countered before recapturing his mouth with his own. They kissed long and deep, their hands boldly caressing each other's bodies with loving, heated touches and strokes that they'd never dared before to deplore in public, and were still continuing to do so when the lights dimmed and they were left alone in their own little world.
The End