||[Feb. 26th, 2005|09:57 pm]
|||||ghost man on third - TBS||]|
Title: Got Dizzy Dancing The Tango Pt 8
Pairing: Jesse Lacey [Brand New] / Adam Lazzara [TBS]
Summary: “Jesse Lacey, you are the only fag I know who can’t dance and or wiggle his hips.”
Notes: Thanks for everyone who reviewed. This chapter's a little bit short, but I hope you enjoy it. Only two left!
Adam has his head resting on my stomach, his hand acting as a pillow. We’re just laying in bed, silent, listening to all the morning noises of the city around us. The smooth strands of his hair slip easily through my fingers as I play absently with it, testing its texture with my fingers.
It’s a Saturday; I don’t have band practise and he doesn’t have any lessons until 11, so we’re lying in, content to just be there with each other and being able to forget our responsibilities for the time being.
Adam raises his free hand and begins tracing the outline of my ribs before running his fingers gently over them. I slow my hand in his hair, rolling a small section between a thumb and finger, watching him; his face has this look of childlike concentration about it as he continues to explore.
He must have noticed my lack of movement, because he stops and twists his head to gaze up at me, dark eyes wide and trusting. He raises his head a bit and I let my hand slip down to cup his cheek gently, which he leans into. We stay like that for a few minutes and I begin to rub my thumb across his [flawless] skin. He turns his head slightly, eyes fluttering shut for an instant as he presses a light kiss to the pad of my thumb.
I don’t think I’ve seen this side of Adam before, but it’s not like I’m complaining at all; he usually has something to say about everything, or he’s dancing and generally being lively, and just to be there with him when he’s quiet and relaxed is just… comforting. [Or maybe it’s just the time of morning]
He shimmies up my body slightly to press a long kiss to my lips. I slip my hand from his face to hold onto his arm, my other hand mirroring it and I begin stroking his skin with my thumbs again. We tilt our heads, seemingly at the same time, and open our mouths, tongues innocently tasting each other. Our kissing is slow and lethargic, but to be able to simply lay in bed with him and kiss sets off this warm feeling, and I feel more content than I have in a while.
We stop kissing and I wrap my arms about his thin frame as he tucks his head under my chin and sighs. Not a ‘my god, I’m bored’ or a ‘I’m really upset’ kind of sigh, but one of those… ‘I’m really happy to be here’ sighs; I know, because I did it, too.
“I’ve got to get up, soon.” Adam hums against my chest as he plays with the edge of the sheet. It’s the first thing that’s been said all morning, not that it matters, and I press a kiss to the top of my head, feeling him smile against my skin.
“I don’t want to, though.” He tells me, turning his head and gazing up at me with those expressively childlike eyes.
I smile down at him and peck his lips. “Come on, I’ll let you have the shower first.”
His eyes adopt that playful glint that I’m used to seeing all the time. He must be waking up. “Aw, you’re not going to join me?”
I shake my head. “Not if you have to actually go to work. I wouldn’t be able to let you leave.”
A smile plays about his lips and I can’t help but kiss them again. “When you’re right, you’re right, and I love a man who can take control.”
He reluctantly shuffles away from my body and I immediately feel the loss in heat, and I just want to tell him to get back into the bed, but I can’t. He drags the under-sheet with him, bunched about his waist, leaving me with the duvet, walking away from the bed, then glancing back. I rolled onto my side, propping myself on my elbow, watching him; he smirked over his shoulder at me before letting the sheet drop to the floor, sliding away from his body. He continued walking, the sway of his hips more noticeable now, and my eyes are glued to him till he exits the room. I hear the shower switch on, and I can just imagine him stood under the spray, droplets of water clinging to his skin like sweat and –
Fuck this. I slide out of bed, padding down to the bathroom.
Maybe he can be just a little bit late.
I’m taking Adam out on his lunch break, and I arrive just a little bit early. The old lady, Grace [Betty… Grace… they’re practically the same name] tells me I can go down and wait for him in the dance hall, as long as the student doesn’t mind, so I thank her and go down.
That ever-so-familiar beat of onetwothree greets me as I push the door to the hall open to watch the end of the lesson.
I recognise the student as the waiter from the restaurant the other night, and watch as he starts la caza and Adam backs away from him, but allows himself to be easily caught. A look of pure hunger passes over his face, and the boy leans in so close their lips almost touch.
I can feel the bile in my throat and I clench my jaw, teeth grinding together. Adam twists away at the last moment, but the boy catches his wrist, and he’s spun back towards his body, hips thrusting together as they dance. The feeling I’m getting from watching them, I just feel like being sick. I want to ring that boy’s pretty little neck, and Adam… I don’t know what I’d do to him, but a surge of pure violence just shot through my veins and I’m sure I’d think of something.
They’re moving so well together, using all these really complex moves which just seem to come naturally to them, and everything just screams sex; you can feel it in the air as they writhe together.
I can’t stand this. “Dancing is the vertical wish of the horizontal act…” Adam told me that last night.
I turn and leave.
R&R, my lovelies. The same as last time - you know the drill. <3