You Don’t Decide

He sticks to his hits tonight. There will be time for introducing the new sound soon enough. Maybe Sorrento can do a big unveiling event. And at the end of the day, Studio 54 is a disco. That’s what people are here for: to listen and dance and drink and snort and fuck to disco.

Try as he might to pay attention to his audience, his eyes are drawn like a magnet to Rain when he steps onto the dance floor. Tonight he’s wearing a Mozart-inspired wig with precise white curls marching down the sides of his head, and a black button-up shirt with a fall of white lace at the collar and a deep V-neck revealing his slender chest. It suddenly occurs to Leon that he doesn’t know what Rain looks like without a wig.

Fortunately he has his own stage outfit on, including another pair of colored aviator glasses, and Rain can’t see the moments he spends unable to tear his gaze away. Dear god, the boy is beautiful. Even in his incongruous outfit, his dance moves let him fit in with the crowd, and his form-fitting pants attract no shortage of attention. But his smiles and glances are all for Leon.

He retreats backstage at the end of his set. He’ll go dance soon, he just needs… a few minutes. Sitting at the long mirrored countertop – a relic from when the club was a proper theater – he mops sweat from his body, starts to tap out another line of coke, then thinks better of it. He probably needs a clear head right now, and there will be time for a bump after Rain leaves.

“Hey Leon.”

Oh, fuck. Of course Rain knows his way backstage, his band played here once before. He leans against the door frame, an inviting pose made seemingly without even thinking.

“You were so great tonight.”

Leon smirks. “What happened to the Rain who thinks disco is dead?”

“He’s busy getting proven wrong.” He crosses the room, Leon stands to meet him, and their arms come around each other.

Leon can’t help himself. He returns Rain’s kiss with passion and hunger, feels himself harden. Tension he hadn’t even realized had built up within him drains away, consumed by his lover’s mouth. Rain’s hands slide into his hair, still sweaty from the stage. He moans in spite of himself.

Then he takes Rain’s hands and moves them, gently but firmly, to the boy’s sides. “Rain… we can’t do this.”

Rain looks puzzled, but still seductive. “Here? We, we – we could move to the balcony if, if – if that’s what you want.” He looks both apprehensive and intrigued by the idea.

God, he wants to. Here or on the balcony. Instead he sighs and releases Rain’s hands. “No… I mean, we can’t do this. Not here, not anywhere.”

Rain’s eyebrows come together. “What do you mean?”

Leon tries to remember Sorrento’s words. “I’m too old for you, and… there’s Diego. And Simon. They both want you. I… I keep getting in everyone’s way, and Sorrento is right. I need to grow up.” Loneliness creeps back through him, but it’s a familiar feeling, and he reminds himself: he has Sorrento. And if he makes things right with Diego, maybe there’s still a chance there too. “We had something at the party, but… I have to go back to the real world, and so do you.”

Rain gives him a long, searching look, then finally says, “No.”

“… Sorry?”

“No,” he says again, firmer this time. “You, you – you don’t get to just, just – just decide this.” He takes one of Leon’s hands again. “I decide – decide who I want to be with. You don’t decide that. And, and – and I want to be with, with – with you.”

Their fingers lace together, and Leon couldn’t say for certain who makes the motion.


“I spent all night getting, getting your attention at Saratoga. You think I’m just, just – just giving that up because, because Sorrento got inside your head?”

They crash into the countertop. The lace on Rain’s collar rips as Leon yanks at the shirt, unable to get anything off Rain fast enough, his own hands tangling with Rain’s as he tears clothing from Leon. Leon turns him roughly around and shoves him into a bent-over position, fumbling with belt and zipper and lube and finally pushing into Rain with a fervor that makes them both cry out.

Afterward, they dress and make their way hand-in-hand to a den where couches line the walls and snuggle into one together. “Sorry about your collar.”

Rain twists his mouth. “Yeah, I do kinda like this shirt.”

“We’ll find you another.”

“So you can rip that one off me too?”

Leon pulls Rain closer to him. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Rain tilts his head up for a lingering kiss. “Don’t be.”

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