In January, something happens. He wakes up one day, and feels good. Great, even. The pain is less, and he’s suddenly full of energy. When it hasn’t gone away a couple days later he tells Sorrento to book him and Rain at the club.
“I don’t know…”
“Please. Let us have this. It might be…” He takes a deep breath and says it. “It might be our only chance.”
“ONE NIGHT ONLY!” the marquee proclaims. “LEON, with Urban Renaissance’s RAIN!”
Backstage, they twine hands. Rain is gorgeous tonight in a black jacket and white shirt with lace at the collar and cuffs, and boots with a row of silver studs lining the upper edge. His wig is black as well, but a black that shows blue undertones in the stage lights. Leon wears something like his old disco outfit, but toned down: straight-legged white pants and a looser shirt tucked in at the waist. He’s still got the shades and medallion, of course. Those bits of disco will never die.
“If you get tired…”
“Sorrento has a stool waiting in the wings. But I’m going to be okay. There’s a rush you get on stage. It’s almost like being high.”
Rain’s hands go to his chest, slipping into the open shirt and stroking his skin. Leon remembers the time he tried to break up with Rain here, the boy’s stubborn refusal and their ensuing passionate embrace. Was that only a few months ago? It seems like a lifetime.
On an impulse he pushes Rain against the countertop and runs his hands down his body, reaching behind him to cup his ass cheeks. There’s no time, but he presses his hips into Rain’s anyway, kissing him until they both harden.
“Leon…” His lover’s eyes are full of heat mingled with pain. Leon traces one eyebrow with his thumb, brushes the eyelid with his lips when it closes.
“Come on, love,” he whispers. “Let’s go show them we’re great.”