Paris and Dave: Dirty Dancing
Apr. 2nd, 2005 08:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rohansonIt’s a pleasant day, and the trip out to the cabin has been fairly uneventful apart from several stops before we even left Wellie to stock up on “essentials”. Not that I’m complaining, but we do seem to have enough food and drink to last for a month. I did put my foot down at the extra blankets, given that it’s still summer, and there are heaps up there already. You drive, and me and Ise take it in turns to hang out of the window. She’s happy enough, but she and Giz have actually become close while you’ve been living with me full time, and he seemed huffed that he was being left behind. Karl is gonna feed him until we get back, and then I guess the furballs will have to get used to being on their own again.
Before long, we’re pulling up outside the cabin, and as you switch the engine off, I turn your head towards me and kiss you. “Come on babe, let’s go make some good memories.” You smile, and I open the door, Ise jumping over me to escape the confines of the car and explore these relatively new surroundings. After stretching out the kinks of sitting still for an hour and a half, I grab one of the larger coolers, and haul it towards the front door. With a huff, I set it down on the doorstep while I find my keys. “What have you got in here? A body??” You grin at me and I roll my eyes. “So I was almost right. This is the one full of dead cow, isn’t it?” I had my regrets about telling you there was a huge barbie on the back deck as soon as I saw your eyes light up. I carry it through to the kitchen, and leave it by the fridge and you’re right behind me with half a case of red wine. “Why don’t you sort out your cow, while I bring the rest of the stuff in?” My arms slip round your waist from behind, and I kiss your neck. “It should only take me the best part of three hours!!” I give you a wink before heading back out to the car.
Dave: "Hey, now - I had to pack for four, you know! And it was you and your shift's idea that I spend a bit of time with Theo this weekend. Seems only fair that Faramir gets to hang out with you, too. Now, if we all kept the same diets, packing would have been MUCH easier." You head off to unpack, and I get to work setting the steaks into the fridge, along with a bottle of white wine to chill. I know Faramir's begun to grow fond of zinfandel lately, judging by what he's been tapping into. Odd that, I know he's always been an ale man by choice, but we've all been changing quite a bit of late, makes sense that we might change small things in our lives as we grow and progress. I'm still fond of red wine, room temperature, so I leave those bottles out on the counter.
At the bottom of the cooler I find the salad greens, tuna steaks and veggie burgers, so Paris is in no danger of starving or resorting to living on pine cones. The kitchen set, I wander back into the living room and gaze out the window at the view. This really is an amazing place - quiet, isolated, beautiful. I think it'll do us all a world of good to relax and regroup after the month we've had.
Paris: Our bags are last out of the car, and I dump them at the bottom of the stairs. Whoever goes up next can take them to the bedroom. Ise is making herself at home, sniffing every nook and cranny, and she finds you just before I do, nudging your hand as you look out of the windows. You rub her head absentmindedly, and she goes on her way, finding another corner to explore, and I wrap my arms around your waist from behind, and nuzzle your neck.
This place was always my refuge. When the dreams got so violent I needed to be totally alone, it was here I ran to when I could and all those months ago when we split, it had been the logical place to head to. There’s a sense of peace about the place that can always help steady me, but this time it’s different. This is the first time I’ve been here when I haven’t been running from something, and it feels good and even better that you’re here with me.
I kiss your neck, and let go of you, heading for the windows. Unlocking them I push the wall of glass wide open before taking two steps out and I look back at you over my shoulder. “You coming?” The first half of the deck is covered, the second half totally open and warmed by the sun. You reach me as I get to the rail at the edge, and I pull you close, seeing the calm expression on your face, knowing this was the right thing to suggest. “Do you wanna sleep out here tonight? I always used to if it wasn’t too cold.”
Dave: "The weather's perfect for it. Let's do that." I chuckle and lean against you, the wind ruffling your hair so it blows against my cheek. "We might as well just bring everything outside, got a feeling the bed won't even be used!" You give me a smirk, and I grin right back. "Well, maybe for recreational purposes."
After a few more quiet minutes, I slip from your side to go grab a bottle of red and two glasses, and soon I'm pouring us each a drink. "Here's to you, Paris, the man who always seems to know right where I'm supposed to be... even at those times when I haven't got a clue." We clink our glasses and sip, then settle down on a deck chair – you stretched out on it, me cross-legged between your knees, my hands stroking your legs. I do have a concern though, and I'd best just get that out in the open right from the start. "I have to admit I'm a little nervous about being up here alone with Theo. Even if he's promised to behave... I'm not sure I know what his standards of good behaviour are. Are you comfortable with him spending time with me? Got any advice for me so I won't be caught off guard?"
Paris: The wine’s good, and your hands are relaxing me even more, but when I hear your concerns, I set the glass down, sitting up and putting my hands on your waist.
“It’s okay babe. I wouldn’t be going along with this if I didn’t trust him to honour his word, and he knows you’re off limits. Can’t guarantee he’s not gonna flirt, though, he’s very erm … physical, and I think he’s pretty much permanently horny.” If that morning after the phone call was anything to go by. “He’s younger than the last Théo, by about four years, so he’s Second Marshall, and he’s not had to assume control in Rohan yet … “ I can see you looking at me with a cocked eyebrow and I shrug. “I’ve been reading up about him. The Unfinished Tales are quite informative.” And I’ve got a favour to ask you. “He doesn’t know he dies … doesn’t know the last shift survived that death … and I don’t want him to know either. I just don’t think it would be a good idea … I think anyone who found out their death was pre-ordained right down to the day would try and change that …” And I have no idea what the consequences might be.
But coming back to your concerns. “If you really feel uncomfortable though, get Faramir to shift in early, but you really shouldn’t need to.”
Dave: I can't help but smile a little at your concern for Theo. "No worries, love... actually, great minds think alike. Faramir and I have had some long talks about fate, and what it's like to know the story of your own life. He doesn't wish that on anyone who can avoid it, and he's very happy that you and I are free of that burden. I won't say a word, and neither will Faramir. We promised each other."
I sip my wine and pluck at the fabric of your jeans, wondering if you would mind a slight veer in the road of this conversation. "You know... even though our futures aren't written yet, our pasts are. There's a lot about yours I don't know, and I'd like to. I got thinking about that after our Christmas Eve celebration." I lean down and kiss your wrist, then stretch as I straighten up. "You seemed rather comfortable in the setting, a lot more than I was." I raise an eyebrow at you, hoping I'm not being too nosy. "I'd settle for more stories of growing up with your sister if you'd rather, though."
Paris: “Thanks.” I didn’t doubt that I can trust you to keep this from Théo, but it was good to hear. And then you ask about my past, and honestly, I had wondered if you would eventually.
“I don’t mind talking about it. As long as you don’t shock easily!” I grin at you. “When I first left Auckland, I headed for Sydney, and about six months after I got there, I was sitting in a coffee shop reading the wanted ads. I’d just finished a badly paid construction job and I was just about out of cash, when this woman came over and gave me her card, told me to ring her later to set up an interview if I wanted well paid work. Turns out she ran Alexandria.” I can see your eyes widen at the name of one of Sydney’s more exclusive gay clubs, which was always shortened to Alex by its regulars. “I started as a waiter, and with the tips included, it was more than I’d ever made in my life, and when a couple of openings came up for dancers, I auditioned.” It’s been so long since I’ve even thought of my time in Sydney.
“The club had these fetish nights every few weeks and they were the best nights to work, the tips were amazing. Course, it did mean dancing in little more than black leather straps …” Lowering my eyes, with an embarrassed smile I grab my wine glass, feeling the colour rising on my face. “So I got used to the scene. And the psychology behind it, domination and submission fascinated me …” I give you a reassuring grin. “Not that I’m into all that, apart from the odd game like Christmas Eve.”
Dave: "Oh, life takes some weird turns, doesn't it? Christ, you were dancing in Sydney while I was living there, I'm sure. I've only been in Wellie about three years now." I stretch out, and lean back against your chest, my legs easing out to rest my feet on yours. "So, you danced at Alexandria? I knew of the place, didn't have the nerve back then to even set foot in the door, but I did listen carefully whenever it came up in party conversations. I wasn't ready then for being out in public. Now, if I'd known then that there was a dancer like you there... I probably would have taken a deep breath and gone inside, taken a chance." I tilt my head up, and reach to stroke your hair. "It's a sad thought that I would have to go my whole life without seeing this beautiful man dance like he did back then. I wonder if he might be lured into a private show, even though I hear he's happily retired from the stage these days?"
I try my best to bat my eyelashes at you, a tricky manoeuvre from upside down and below your face. "Dance for me?"
Paris: “Dance for you? You serious??” The grin on your face tells me you’re perfectly serious, and I snort with laughter. “Dave, I haven’t danced in years!” You pout at me. “No!!” With a sigh you turn over and pull up the edge of my t-shirt, kissing my stomach softly, making me moan. “Is this some sort of bribery, cause it’s not gonna work.” That last word is gasped out as your tongue flicks over the rim of my belly button. You look up at me with hungry eyes, and for a moment I think you’ve forgotten the dancing thing as your tongue goes to work on my skin, but before I know what’s happening, your fingers dig into my sides, tickling me mercilessly. You manage to pin me down on the lounger, and I’m soon gasping for breath through the laughter.
“Okay, okay!!! I give in!” You stop mid tickle, making real sure I mean what I say, keeping those fingers poised. “But I’m gonna need music … will you go and grab the Cd’s out of the car?” I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move so fast, and I have to yell after you. “MY CD’s, not yours!!” There’s a portable player in the kitchen on an extension cord and we arrive back at the lounger at the same time. Rifling through the discs, I find something similar to one of the tracks I used to dance to and stick it in the player, cueing it up. Nickelback’s “Figured You Out” has a beat to it.
“I’m gonna get my own back, you know that don’t you?” By the look on your face you really don’t care. “I know where you put the collar!” I tell you with a mock threat in my voice, sitting down to take off my boots and socks, grumbling. “Just remember, I haven’t done this in a while …” But making an idiot of myself is gonna be worth it just for the look you’ve got on your face right now. You get settled, sitting cross-legged on the lounger again, and when I get up, starting to feel embarrassed about this, you pull me down for a kiss before I go to stand in the middle of the deck.
“Hit it.”
Standing with my back to you, hands hanging by my sides, the first heavy beats disturb the peace, and my shoulders begin to twitch in time with the music, gradually developing into a roll. I block out everything but the music, losing myself in it, my hips move in time with my shoulders, legs and feet moving as my body remembers the steps, my hands playing over my thighs, and up over my hips. My confidence grows with every beat, and I shoot you a wicked grin over my shoulder before crossing my arms in front of me and pulling off the tight black t-shirt in one fluid move, pivoting around on the ball of one foot to face you, and letting it drop behind me.
You’re watching transfixed, and I run my hands down my chest, slipping a finger in the waistband of my jeans before popping the button open, looking over at you with an arrogant smile, really getting back into the mindset I’d almost forgotten. Slowly the zipper comes down, hips still twitching, and I ease them off, stepping out of them, leaving on the tight lycra shorts you love me to wear and move slowly towards you, legs apart, body moving sensually, arms stretched above my head until I’m right in front of you, and I drop to my knees. Body still moving, I lean forward so I can feel your breath on my cheek, keeping an inch of air between us, then bend back, letting my head drop back, snapping it up to face you on the last beat.
Still not touching you, my breathing heavy, I smile and murmur. “Traditionally, I’d be left wearing a thong, and you’d be stuffing notes into the waistband right now … “
Dave: "The hell with tradition." I know my eyes have glazed over, and my arm feels like it's moving in slow motion as I reach up to stroke the palm of my hand over your shorts, across the bulge of your crotch, and then slip lower to reach between your legs to run my fingers lightly over the fabric pulled taut against your balls. You give me a mock-shocked look, and I outright leer. "I left my sanity, er, wallet in my other pants." The next song on the CD starts in, and you laugh and lean away from me, rising up to find your dancing muse again.
You're taking my breath away.
I watch as long as I can sit still, which doesn't amount to more than a minute before I'm scrambling to my feet, wanting to be closer to the energy you're giving off, feeling like a kid trying to join in a game of jump rope without getting all tangled. I slide up beside you, and wrap one arm around your waist, holding you loosely enough that you never miss a beat. You dance in my arms, I stare in open admiration, until finally the song winds down. We stare at each other, each breathing hard for different reasons, and I ease you close enough to run my fingers up your bare back. "If the management doesn't mind, I would like to take this dancer home with me tonight. What do they call you, pretty one?" I smile mischievously and push back a strand of damp hair clinging to your forehead.
Paris: When you join me, the dance becomes so intense, my movements flowing in the confines of your arms as we move to the same rhythm. My whole body feels fluid, and I can’t take my eyes off yours as the music stops. My skin is so sensitive to your touch that I arch towards you as your fingers move on my back …
“Call me?” I wind my arms around your neck, and grin. Oh, this is gonna be good, I just know I’m never gonna live this one down. “They call me Achilles!”
Dave: Oh, it's really hard to keep a straight face, but the fact that I do shows just how much I love you. I innocently ask... "Achilles? Like the guy with the heel?" A small shiver goes up my spine, and I can't resist. "I need to be sure you've earned that nickname, love. Sit down on the lounger, and relax. You've earned a rest after all that dancing."
I watch as you comply, and then kneel besides you, and stroke your leg, moving lower, lower, until I can slip my fingers under your foot, lifting it up for close inspection. "I don't know, this heel doesn't seem all that weak to me." I kiss it, and rub my nose against your ankle. "I think you put the original owner of that name to shame, he only wishes he could have what you do." Another kiss, then a small lick along the skin of your ankle, as my fingers can't resist starting to work and massage your foot.
Paris: Amazingly, you don’t laugh, but you get a predatory look in your eyes as you push me back down onto the lounger, and I watch in silence as you work down my leg, sighing with pleasure at the first kiss. But the touch of your tongue has me whimpering, and as your hands begin to work on my foot, I sink back against the lounger, arms over my head, holding onto the back of it, watching you intently, and groaning at each little cat lick that you give my ankle, the skin in that spot so sensitive it’s almost aching.
Dave: That is a nice sight to see. If you were an animal, you'd be a cat, the way you're practically purring, stretching and blissing at my touch. I kiss the tip of each of your toes, and then lift that pampered foot to rest on my shoulder, before reaching for your other foot. "Relax, love... this vacation is for both of us, but you're the one that works the hardest day in and day out. Let me take care of you for a while." I let go of your foot for a moment, carefully keeping your other foot on my shoulder as I reach for the wine to top off your glass, then set it back in your hand.
Then my attention is back on you, smiling as I see your toes wiggling in anticipation. I take each one in turn, and squeeze it till you sigh, then work up to the arch, digging my fingers in. I look around as I touch you, soaking in the surroundings we've settled into for a few days. I hear wind shusshing through the trees, and in the distance, pond frogs croaking. It's a perfect balance of soothing sounds without being as noisy as the city. I look up at you, and see that your eyes are closed, your mouth curved in a perfect smile. I know I'll be trusting our shifts to have their time here too, but not just yet. Not right now. Tonight is for us, and you are mine. And you have no idea how completely I am yours.
Rating: R for some descriptive groping
Before long, we’re pulling up outside the cabin, and as you switch the engine off, I turn your head towards me and kiss you. “Come on babe, let’s go make some good memories.” You smile, and I open the door, Ise jumping over me to escape the confines of the car and explore these relatively new surroundings. After stretching out the kinks of sitting still for an hour and a half, I grab one of the larger coolers, and haul it towards the front door. With a huff, I set it down on the doorstep while I find my keys. “What have you got in here? A body??” You grin at me and I roll my eyes. “So I was almost right. This is the one full of dead cow, isn’t it?” I had my regrets about telling you there was a huge barbie on the back deck as soon as I saw your eyes light up. I carry it through to the kitchen, and leave it by the fridge and you’re right behind me with half a case of red wine. “Why don’t you sort out your cow, while I bring the rest of the stuff in?” My arms slip round your waist from behind, and I kiss your neck. “It should only take me the best part of three hours!!” I give you a wink before heading back out to the car.
Dave: "Hey, now - I had to pack for four, you know! And it was you and your shift's idea that I spend a bit of time with Theo this weekend. Seems only fair that Faramir gets to hang out with you, too. Now, if we all kept the same diets, packing would have been MUCH easier." You head off to unpack, and I get to work setting the steaks into the fridge, along with a bottle of white wine to chill. I know Faramir's begun to grow fond of zinfandel lately, judging by what he's been tapping into. Odd that, I know he's always been an ale man by choice, but we've all been changing quite a bit of late, makes sense that we might change small things in our lives as we grow and progress. I'm still fond of red wine, room temperature, so I leave those bottles out on the counter.
At the bottom of the cooler I find the salad greens, tuna steaks and veggie burgers, so Paris is in no danger of starving or resorting to living on pine cones. The kitchen set, I wander back into the living room and gaze out the window at the view. This really is an amazing place - quiet, isolated, beautiful. I think it'll do us all a world of good to relax and regroup after the month we've had.
Paris: Our bags are last out of the car, and I dump them at the bottom of the stairs. Whoever goes up next can take them to the bedroom. Ise is making herself at home, sniffing every nook and cranny, and she finds you just before I do, nudging your hand as you look out of the windows. You rub her head absentmindedly, and she goes on her way, finding another corner to explore, and I wrap my arms around your waist from behind, and nuzzle your neck.
This place was always my refuge. When the dreams got so violent I needed to be totally alone, it was here I ran to when I could and all those months ago when we split, it had been the logical place to head to. There’s a sense of peace about the place that can always help steady me, but this time it’s different. This is the first time I’ve been here when I haven’t been running from something, and it feels good and even better that you’re here with me.
I kiss your neck, and let go of you, heading for the windows. Unlocking them I push the wall of glass wide open before taking two steps out and I look back at you over my shoulder. “You coming?” The first half of the deck is covered, the second half totally open and warmed by the sun. You reach me as I get to the rail at the edge, and I pull you close, seeing the calm expression on your face, knowing this was the right thing to suggest. “Do you wanna sleep out here tonight? I always used to if it wasn’t too cold.”
Dave: "The weather's perfect for it. Let's do that." I chuckle and lean against you, the wind ruffling your hair so it blows against my cheek. "We might as well just bring everything outside, got a feeling the bed won't even be used!" You give me a smirk, and I grin right back. "Well, maybe for recreational purposes."
After a few more quiet minutes, I slip from your side to go grab a bottle of red and two glasses, and soon I'm pouring us each a drink. "Here's to you, Paris, the man who always seems to know right where I'm supposed to be... even at those times when I haven't got a clue." We clink our glasses and sip, then settle down on a deck chair – you stretched out on it, me cross-legged between your knees, my hands stroking your legs. I do have a concern though, and I'd best just get that out in the open right from the start. "I have to admit I'm a little nervous about being up here alone with Theo. Even if he's promised to behave... I'm not sure I know what his standards of good behaviour are. Are you comfortable with him spending time with me? Got any advice for me so I won't be caught off guard?"
Paris: The wine’s good, and your hands are relaxing me even more, but when I hear your concerns, I set the glass down, sitting up and putting my hands on your waist.
“It’s okay babe. I wouldn’t be going along with this if I didn’t trust him to honour his word, and he knows you’re off limits. Can’t guarantee he’s not gonna flirt, though, he’s very erm … physical, and I think he’s pretty much permanently horny.” If that morning after the phone call was anything to go by. “He’s younger than the last Théo, by about four years, so he’s Second Marshall, and he’s not had to assume control in Rohan yet … “ I can see you looking at me with a cocked eyebrow and I shrug. “I’ve been reading up about him. The Unfinished Tales are quite informative.” And I’ve got a favour to ask you. “He doesn’t know he dies … doesn’t know the last shift survived that death … and I don’t want him to know either. I just don’t think it would be a good idea … I think anyone who found out their death was pre-ordained right down to the day would try and change that …” And I have no idea what the consequences might be.
But coming back to your concerns. “If you really feel uncomfortable though, get Faramir to shift in early, but you really shouldn’t need to.”
Dave: I can't help but smile a little at your concern for Theo. "No worries, love... actually, great minds think alike. Faramir and I have had some long talks about fate, and what it's like to know the story of your own life. He doesn't wish that on anyone who can avoid it, and he's very happy that you and I are free of that burden. I won't say a word, and neither will Faramir. We promised each other."
I sip my wine and pluck at the fabric of your jeans, wondering if you would mind a slight veer in the road of this conversation. "You know... even though our futures aren't written yet, our pasts are. There's a lot about yours I don't know, and I'd like to. I got thinking about that after our Christmas Eve celebration." I lean down and kiss your wrist, then stretch as I straighten up. "You seemed rather comfortable in the setting, a lot more than I was." I raise an eyebrow at you, hoping I'm not being too nosy. "I'd settle for more stories of growing up with your sister if you'd rather, though."
Paris: “Thanks.” I didn’t doubt that I can trust you to keep this from Théo, but it was good to hear. And then you ask about my past, and honestly, I had wondered if you would eventually.
“I don’t mind talking about it. As long as you don’t shock easily!” I grin at you. “When I first left Auckland, I headed for Sydney, and about six months after I got there, I was sitting in a coffee shop reading the wanted ads. I’d just finished a badly paid construction job and I was just about out of cash, when this woman came over and gave me her card, told me to ring her later to set up an interview if I wanted well paid work. Turns out she ran Alexandria.” I can see your eyes widen at the name of one of Sydney’s more exclusive gay clubs, which was always shortened to Alex by its regulars. “I started as a waiter, and with the tips included, it was more than I’d ever made in my life, and when a couple of openings came up for dancers, I auditioned.” It’s been so long since I’ve even thought of my time in Sydney.
“The club had these fetish nights every few weeks and they were the best nights to work, the tips were amazing. Course, it did mean dancing in little more than black leather straps …” Lowering my eyes, with an embarrassed smile I grab my wine glass, feeling the colour rising on my face. “So I got used to the scene. And the psychology behind it, domination and submission fascinated me …” I give you a reassuring grin. “Not that I’m into all that, apart from the odd game like Christmas Eve.”
Dave: "Oh, life takes some weird turns, doesn't it? Christ, you were dancing in Sydney while I was living there, I'm sure. I've only been in Wellie about three years now." I stretch out, and lean back against your chest, my legs easing out to rest my feet on yours. "So, you danced at Alexandria? I knew of the place, didn't have the nerve back then to even set foot in the door, but I did listen carefully whenever it came up in party conversations. I wasn't ready then for being out in public. Now, if I'd known then that there was a dancer like you there... I probably would have taken a deep breath and gone inside, taken a chance." I tilt my head up, and reach to stroke your hair. "It's a sad thought that I would have to go my whole life without seeing this beautiful man dance like he did back then. I wonder if he might be lured into a private show, even though I hear he's happily retired from the stage these days?"
I try my best to bat my eyelashes at you, a tricky manoeuvre from upside down and below your face. "Dance for me?"
Paris: “Dance for you? You serious??” The grin on your face tells me you’re perfectly serious, and I snort with laughter. “Dave, I haven’t danced in years!” You pout at me. “No!!” With a sigh you turn over and pull up the edge of my t-shirt, kissing my stomach softly, making me moan. “Is this some sort of bribery, cause it’s not gonna work.” That last word is gasped out as your tongue flicks over the rim of my belly button. You look up at me with hungry eyes, and for a moment I think you’ve forgotten the dancing thing as your tongue goes to work on my skin, but before I know what’s happening, your fingers dig into my sides, tickling me mercilessly. You manage to pin me down on the lounger, and I’m soon gasping for breath through the laughter.
“Okay, okay!!! I give in!” You stop mid tickle, making real sure I mean what I say, keeping those fingers poised. “But I’m gonna need music … will you go and grab the Cd’s out of the car?” I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move so fast, and I have to yell after you. “MY CD’s, not yours!!” There’s a portable player in the kitchen on an extension cord and we arrive back at the lounger at the same time. Rifling through the discs, I find something similar to one of the tracks I used to dance to and stick it in the player, cueing it up. Nickelback’s “Figured You Out” has a beat to it.
“I’m gonna get my own back, you know that don’t you?” By the look on your face you really don’t care. “I know where you put the collar!” I tell you with a mock threat in my voice, sitting down to take off my boots and socks, grumbling. “Just remember, I haven’t done this in a while …” But making an idiot of myself is gonna be worth it just for the look you’ve got on your face right now. You get settled, sitting cross-legged on the lounger again, and when I get up, starting to feel embarrassed about this, you pull me down for a kiss before I go to stand in the middle of the deck.
“Hit it.”
Standing with my back to you, hands hanging by my sides, the first heavy beats disturb the peace, and my shoulders begin to twitch in time with the music, gradually developing into a roll. I block out everything but the music, losing myself in it, my hips move in time with my shoulders, legs and feet moving as my body remembers the steps, my hands playing over my thighs, and up over my hips. My confidence grows with every beat, and I shoot you a wicked grin over my shoulder before crossing my arms in front of me and pulling off the tight black t-shirt in one fluid move, pivoting around on the ball of one foot to face you, and letting it drop behind me.
You’re watching transfixed, and I run my hands down my chest, slipping a finger in the waistband of my jeans before popping the button open, looking over at you with an arrogant smile, really getting back into the mindset I’d almost forgotten. Slowly the zipper comes down, hips still twitching, and I ease them off, stepping out of them, leaving on the tight lycra shorts you love me to wear and move slowly towards you, legs apart, body moving sensually, arms stretched above my head until I’m right in front of you, and I drop to my knees. Body still moving, I lean forward so I can feel your breath on my cheek, keeping an inch of air between us, then bend back, letting my head drop back, snapping it up to face you on the last beat.
Still not touching you, my breathing heavy, I smile and murmur. “Traditionally, I’d be left wearing a thong, and you’d be stuffing notes into the waistband right now … “
Dave: "The hell with tradition." I know my eyes have glazed over, and my arm feels like it's moving in slow motion as I reach up to stroke the palm of my hand over your shorts, across the bulge of your crotch, and then slip lower to reach between your legs to run my fingers lightly over the fabric pulled taut against your balls. You give me a mock-shocked look, and I outright leer. "I left my sanity, er, wallet in my other pants." The next song on the CD starts in, and you laugh and lean away from me, rising up to find your dancing muse again.
You're taking my breath away.
I watch as long as I can sit still, which doesn't amount to more than a minute before I'm scrambling to my feet, wanting to be closer to the energy you're giving off, feeling like a kid trying to join in a game of jump rope without getting all tangled. I slide up beside you, and wrap one arm around your waist, holding you loosely enough that you never miss a beat. You dance in my arms, I stare in open admiration, until finally the song winds down. We stare at each other, each breathing hard for different reasons, and I ease you close enough to run my fingers up your bare back. "If the management doesn't mind, I would like to take this dancer home with me tonight. What do they call you, pretty one?" I smile mischievously and push back a strand of damp hair clinging to your forehead.
Paris: When you join me, the dance becomes so intense, my movements flowing in the confines of your arms as we move to the same rhythm. My whole body feels fluid, and I can’t take my eyes off yours as the music stops. My skin is so sensitive to your touch that I arch towards you as your fingers move on my back …
“Call me?” I wind my arms around your neck, and grin. Oh, this is gonna be good, I just know I’m never gonna live this one down. “They call me Achilles!”
Dave: Oh, it's really hard to keep a straight face, but the fact that I do shows just how much I love you. I innocently ask... "Achilles? Like the guy with the heel?" A small shiver goes up my spine, and I can't resist. "I need to be sure you've earned that nickname, love. Sit down on the lounger, and relax. You've earned a rest after all that dancing."
I watch as you comply, and then kneel besides you, and stroke your leg, moving lower, lower, until I can slip my fingers under your foot, lifting it up for close inspection. "I don't know, this heel doesn't seem all that weak to me." I kiss it, and rub my nose against your ankle. "I think you put the original owner of that name to shame, he only wishes he could have what you do." Another kiss, then a small lick along the skin of your ankle, as my fingers can't resist starting to work and massage your foot.
Paris: Amazingly, you don’t laugh, but you get a predatory look in your eyes as you push me back down onto the lounger, and I watch in silence as you work down my leg, sighing with pleasure at the first kiss. But the touch of your tongue has me whimpering, and as your hands begin to work on my foot, I sink back against the lounger, arms over my head, holding onto the back of it, watching you intently, and groaning at each little cat lick that you give my ankle, the skin in that spot so sensitive it’s almost aching.
Dave: That is a nice sight to see. If you were an animal, you'd be a cat, the way you're practically purring, stretching and blissing at my touch. I kiss the tip of each of your toes, and then lift that pampered foot to rest on my shoulder, before reaching for your other foot. "Relax, love... this vacation is for both of us, but you're the one that works the hardest day in and day out. Let me take care of you for a while." I let go of your foot for a moment, carefully keeping your other foot on my shoulder as I reach for the wine to top off your glass, then set it back in your hand.
Then my attention is back on you, smiling as I see your toes wiggling in anticipation. I take each one in turn, and squeeze it till you sigh, then work up to the arch, digging my fingers in. I look around as I touch you, soaking in the surroundings we've settled into for a few days. I hear wind shusshing through the trees, and in the distance, pond frogs croaking. It's a perfect balance of soothing sounds without being as noisy as the city. I look up at you, and see that your eyes are closed, your mouth curved in a perfect smile. I know I'll be trusting our shifts to have their time here too, but not just yet. Not right now. Tonight is for us, and you are mine. And you have no idea how completely I am yours.
Rating: R for some descriptive groping
