"You're adorable."

A voice startles me out of my intense contemplation of my reflection.  I'm not vain, I'm just checking my eyeliner, seeing if I've gotten it to the Kurt Cobain stage, when Brian must've wandered in.

"But that make-up's hideous." He adds in that queenie voice.

I go to turn around to face him, but his hands hard on my shoulders keep me in place, facing my reflection in the oversized dressing room mirror. He's pretty forceful for a little guy.

His face is already made up. Sparkly eye shadow, heavy liner, dark plum lipstick. My eyes scan his face, getting stuck on his mouth as I'm hit with a sensory memory: those lips around my cock, biting my own lip to keep from shouting as he deep throated me in dark corner backstage last night.

I'm shaking from the memory.  I've never lusted after a guy before. Sure, I can appreciate the aesthetics of a good-looking male. I know Brian, despite his tongue-in-cheek effeminacy, falls into that category. But I've never been in a state where simply looking at a guys mouth could make me quiver with lust. Until now.

I eye him off in the mirror, trying to remember what we were talking about.  He's staring at me thoughtfully, fingers playing with the shiny fabric of the dark green satin gown he wears. A few weeks back I would never have thought a guy could actually look *good* in a dress, either. But Brian does.

"You're so gorgeous," He says, as if he just read my mind. "But you really have no sense of style. What are you wearing tonight?"

I point vaguely toward my sequined suit handing on the closet door. I wonder where he's going with all this.  He's absently fiddling with my hair and my cock is getting heavy from just that light touch.

He regards my outfit with a haughty sniff. 

"That old thing again?"

I go to protest but he slaps me on the arm, shutting me up and sending a shiver of reaction down my body.  "It's lovely Danny, but it just doesn't do you justice."

He spins my chair around so suddenly I almost fall out of it, then I'm eye to eye with him and there's a feral gleam in his gaze.  He leans in and paints my lips with his tongue.  I try to kiss him but he pulls back. //Tease.//

"I'm gonna dress you up." He says, in a disturbingly childlike way, a little smile curving his painted lips.

"I don't-"  I go to speak, speak but he interrupts.

"SHHH! You have absolutely no say in this, so shut the fuck up."

The way he says it, I can tell there is no way I can remain in this room without doing what he says.  I know I have the option of throwing a tantrum and leaving, but with about four hours before the gig to kill, and no one else I want to kill them with, I decide to stay. Funny what your cock can make you do.

He leaves my chair turned away from the mirror as he attacks my face, first with make-up remover and then with such a variety of creams, powders and clasp-housed substances that I lose track.

There is one item I recognise, though. Lipstick.  He's coming at me with a stick of it now and I can see the colour.  It's pink. My hand comes up to stop him.

"No way, mate. Not pink."  I almost add 'I'm not a fucking queer', but I remember in time who I'm talking to.  And what we did eighteen hours ago. And how that completely undermines such a statement.  I bite my tongue.

"Well what then?" He's miffed. I can hear it in his voice.

"What about black, or dark, like yours?" I attempt hopefully. Maybe I can still try for even a semblence of cool-ness in whatever this finished product will be.

"Sweetie you're so fair." He coos, "A dark colour like that would just wash you out.  Besides, I've done the rest to complement *this* lipstick." He waves it before me as he speaks.

I'm about to speak up again, when he rolls his eyes at me and spinds my chair around. I am assaulted by my own reflection.

Oh. My. God. There is a hell of a lot of pink on my face. Powder makes my skin appear light and luminous. Dark pink and silver shiny eyeshadow adorns my eyes.  Dark liner and mascara make my eyes look huge and my lashes extra-long.

I thought Brian was the only guy who could wear makeup like this and still look good. I don't want to sound full of myself, but I was wrong.

"Give it here." I say, putting my hand out for the lipstick. He drops it in my hand with a satisfied giggle, watching with a knowing smile as I carefully apply it.

It's a light baby pink with a silvery sheen on it.  It adds the last touch to my face.  I can't believe the face in the mirror is mine.

"Wow." I don't mean to say it aloud, it just comes out.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers, dropping a kiss on my neck that leaves a plum-coloured smudge. "But we're not done yet." He adds as he straightens up and bustles off, abandoning me to the magnetic gaze of my reflection.  The rustle of silk and chiffon at Brian's wardrobe draws my attention away and when I look over I see Brian dragging through a colourful array of expensive fabrics before pulling out an item. A dress.

It's full length, with thin straps, made of a shiny, shimmery material that looks like silk, with patches of lace at the neck and along the hem.  Pink lace. Pink silk. Pink dress.

"No way, man!" I protest immediately, getting out of my chair. "I'm not wearing any dress!"

"Oh come on!" He taunts, "Don't be so straight."  He's got a sulky pout on his face as he walks over, arms full of pink silk.  He holds the dress up in front of me, pressing it to my body and sizing it up.  "I'm not asking you to wear it on stage, just let me see how it looks on."

He turns me to face the mirror and slides in behind me, pressing up against my back. He's hard, I can feel it. It makes my own dick clench. He's still holding the dress against me, so in the mirror I get an idea of how it would look. It could be worse.  In the reflection, his eyes narrow as he whispers,

"You know silk feels *so* good against your cock."  His voice alone makes me lightheaded.

His hands are already unbuttoning my jeans and I don't fight him. Instead, I pull my t-shirt over my head.  He's tugging my boxers down now too, and he makes a feral cat-like sound when he sees I'm already hard.  His breath feathers over the taut flesh as he leans in and presses a kiss to my abdomen. My cock tightens as he draws away, leaving a purple kiss-mark in his wake.

"OK, hands above your head." he orders,

I reluctantly raise my hands and he lifts the dress up and drops it down them. Silk ripples down my body, cool against heated skin.  Brian fusses with the dress, twisting a strap, straightening a hem, before stepping back and letting me look in the mirror.

I look... pretty.

I also look rather, ambiguous. It's no mystery to me what sex I am (especially not with my cock about to leap off my body as it is right now) but depending on which part of my face I look at, I sometimes see a pretty young female regarding me with vexation from the other side of the mirror.  The dress confuses everything.  It shimmers down my body, material reflecting the light. I look like Brian, only younger, fairer, not as pale.  I could get used to this.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers, eyes locking with mine in the mirror. And right now that's exactly how I feel.
 

He steps between me and my reflection and just stares, looking me up and down, his expression sultry with a tinge of awe. He raises one hand to my face, brushing aside an errant lock of hair. His hand slips down to cup my chin, his thumb brushing across my painted lips.  He leans in to kiss me and pink lips meet plum ones in a kiss that's almost chaste.  Almost, until our lips mash together, his tongue invading my mouth, deepening the kiss to something else entirely.

He draws back only after severely messing both our lipstick.  We both turn our heads to check the damage in the mirror at the same time. In its reflection, I see two dress-clad beings with painted faces and pinky-purple smears for mouths. It's quite a picture.

His hands brush down my body, skimming over the dress and making the silk kiss my skin. It feels good. He presses his lips to my neck, licking and sucking, leaving a pattern of purple marks. Like he's branding me. 

When his hands find my cock I want to scream. He gathers up silk and takes me in hand, literally a silken grip. He's right about the feeling of silk on a hot cock. It's incredible.  He pumps me through the dress until the fabric darkens with moisture.

I groan in protest when he releases me. He ignores me, gathering up the skirt of my dress and hitching it up to my waist, exposing my cock to his hot gaze.  It's weird to see my reflection hitch up its skirt and reveal a hard and obviously male organ.

Brian grins and kisses me again, hiking up his own skirt.  I haven't seen his cock before, (last night's "service" was kinda one way, but I plan to change that) and I draw away from his skillful lips to have a look. I'm no connousseir but it looks pretty good to me. He's hard too, but I already knew that.  I start to reach for it, but he sidesteps me. Steps in front of me so I have to look in the mirror to see his eyes.

He smiles evilly, bending forward to lean on the makeup bench, purposefully brushing his arse back against my the tip of my dick.  I see his reflection smile as mine grimaces in pleasure.  His hands go into one of the makeup bags on the bench as he continues to taunt my dick with his firm pale arse. The wandering contact is making me lightheaded and when I feel his slickened fingers reach back to grip my cock I almost faint.

I force my eyes open to meet Brian's gaze in the mirror. He's grinning at me. I watch his expression melt into want as I reach forward and taunt his cock with my fingers. It twitches beneath my fingers and I pull at it the way I pull at mine when I'm jerking off. Brian's eyes fall shut and he whimpers, pressing his arse backward and rubbing it against my cock.  I tighten my grip on his straining flesh, and rub my cock against the crack of his arse.

I feel him pushing back with his arse and pulling forward on my cock, and I know what he's trying to do. He wants me to fuck him. I don't have time to worry about not knowing what to do because I'm already pushing in and he feels so good, so tight. His expression in the mirror is a blissful grimace. I grip his cock tighter and start to move. His knuckles are white where he grips the bench. Soon the room is filled with the sound of tortured groans and rustling silk as we both milk each other, faster and faster. I watch his face shatter as he comes, moaning. So beautiful. I'm not far behind him.

Afterward, I slump over him, our bodies a mess of lipstick marks and semen spattered silk.  To me he looks even prettier now with his face flushed, his make up smeared and his hair in disarray.

I wait for my heart to slow, and we straighten up. He leans in to capture my mouth in a lazy kiss. It feels good. After our lips part he runs two fingers down my powdered cheek, running his thumb across my lips.

"You know, pink really is a good colour on you."