Dance With You

He’s exhausted, unbearably so, yet sleep is the last thing on his mind. Suzuki’s hotel room is two floors above his, and the pull is so strong he's almost tempted to skip the shower and show up as he is now – sweaty, literally trembling with nerves, gasping for breath. How ungentlemanly. The water is blissfully hot, a pleasure he hasn’t earned yet. But maybe in a few hours… Sugiki has survived the day of 10Dance and prays to survive the night. He wants it, he needs it, and his patience is fraying as he hurriedly turns off the tap. Not a minute more, it has to be now – he doesn't know what will happen next, but his thoughts are already leaving the room. The hotel elevator mocks him, crawling along while his own heartbeat is racing two flights up the stairs. Sugiki knocks – the door opens quietly, and Suzuki’s dark gaze pins him to the spot. Suzuki doesn’t move. “May I come in?” he forces out. “The Grim Reaper has come for my soul,” Suzuki says and forces a tired smile. Damn. His angel used to take bigger steps towards him - Sugiki hoped to be knocked off his feet and kissed within an inch of his life. “I’d like to come in,” he repeats. Suzuki moves aside, and Sugiki finally shuts the door, leaning back against it. The room smells like cigarettes. It must be torture not to be able to smoke all day. “Let’s train together,” Sugiki says, grimacing with awkwardness. “From now on.” Suzuki does nothing to help him, makes no attempt at conversation – well, he deserves that. The fire inside Sugiki is fueled by the sight of wet, bleached strands of hair stuck to Suzuki's high forehead. He wants to grab his waist and crush him, bite his lips – his desire is violent, all-consuming, and he knows that Suzuki sees right through him. “Do you remember rubbing your dick on me the first time we danced together?” Suzuki finally asks. Embarrassment hits Sugiki like a backhand - so hard that he flinches. “It was an accident,” he hastily denies, but Suzuki’s lips are already curving into a teasing smile, compelling him to add, “You were rubbing yours all over me later when you were teaching me Latin dances.” “Ah, but I was already seducing you. Gently, slowly, properly – letting you feel it. And I expected more finesse from a famous ballroom dancer than… that.” “I don’t think I’m much of a gentleman,” confesses Sugiki. “You don’t say.” He’s being provoked, isn’t he? Sugiki takes a couple of steps forward, and his angel is on him, kissing him brutally, biting – Sugiki moans and grabs his hips, forcing them flush against his own, and he’s half-hard already, they both are. He wants to fuck Suzuki until he cries, until his lips tremble and his whole face is wet - just like that time in Blackpool, to bruise his hips and chest and neck, to ruin him. He wants to choke him with his cock. “The way you danced today…” Suzuki breathes against his mouth. “So passionate.” Suzuki whispered his hotel room number right before the results were announced, and Sugiki could hardly focus on anything else afterward – Suzuki’s flushed face, shining with sweat, was all he could think of. Sugiki’s passion for dancing, crumpled by his ex-fiancée, is back, and he feels love in every move. “You were amazing too,” he replies. “Why don’t you show me then,” Suzuki grinds his hips, and their clothed cocks rub together. “Show me how much you liked it.” They move together, almost dancing, but the goal isn’t grace or beauty – it’s pure sensation, and, god, does it feel amazing. Sugiki has never been with a man; he and Suzuki haven’t done more than some breathlessly passionate kissing. But this feels safe, not too foreign. Just enjoying each other’s bodies without demanding too much. Sugiki wants to demand more, but to do that he would have to pull away from those lips, and he’s too far gone, too tired and too aroused to stop. He doesn’t know for sure, but it feels like Suzuki hasn’t been with men either, and the thought fills him with possessive glee. Suzuki is only his to have and to wreck. Suzuki sucks on his tongue and pushes him towards the bed – they’ve done this before. Last time, the man was on him, kissing and rubbing, sucking on his neck, and Sugiki wanted to overpower him, twist his arms, make him beg, break him and fuck the shards through the mattress. His ex had left him because he couldn’t allow himself to give in to his own violent desires, and the restraint left him tense and bereft, dull as a silver medal. That chapter of his life is closed: his last dance with Liana in Blackpool was worthy of gold. Sugiki hopes his angel can handle more than his ex-fiancée did. “I want to dance with you,” he breathes. “Mm-hmm,” Suzuki moans, kissing him again. They are fully dressed, slotting their hips together in a desperate search for friction. He dodges the greedy mouth and forces Suzuki onto his back. The man's dark eyes glisten wetly in the lamplight, his mouth red, slightly open, and just as wet, his hair is damp, and Sugiki wants him like he’s wanted no one else. It doesn’t matter who takes home the top prize; they will become one – gold, silver, and the red-hot vise of their embrace. When he provoked Suzuki into accepting the 10 Dance challenge, his angel warned, “Don’t ditch me when I get serious.” He did exactly that – he ditched after their first competition, and his rough kiss now becomes softer, more apologetic. Sugiki truly doesn’t know his limits because he’s never tried to let go. “No, harder,” Suzuki demands, grinning, mocking him. “You think I can't take it?" He wants to grab that gold chain around Suzuki’s neck and strangle him – that’s how much he wants him. Instead, Suzuki yanks him closer, and they are grinding again, kissing, and it’s mind-blowingly good. He could, theoretically, come like this. “Get your pants off,” Suzuki growls, and he’s more than willing. He struggles with his zipper while Suzuki wrestles so violently with his own clothes that something tears loudly. He’s seen Suzuki topless with his pants open, but never more than that – now his gaze slides all over the muscular thighs to his groin, and the hard dark cock catches his attention: it lies on his stomach, touching his tattoo. He’s too horny to feel weird – knowing how much Suzuki wants him back is enough to shatter all remains of his control. He reaches out and grabs the other man's cock. The moan he gets in return is sweeter, hotter, breathier – and that's enough to find himself on top of Suzuki again and line their cocks together. “Come on, it’s not a waltz,” Suzuki complains, pushing him away slightly, spitting on his palm and grabbing both of them at once – a good idea, a great idea. They’ll need to buy lube, and the thought plunges Sugiki into images of fucking him, those impossibly long legs wrapped around his torso, the pleasure driving him crazy. He comes like that, spilling between them, and he catches Suzuki’s gleeful expression before the man shudders and sighs. They are sticky, filthy and they keep kissing. “You were seducing me when you undressed,” Sugiki murmurs, “right after I rubbed my dick on you. When we first danced together.” Suzuki’s smile is open and teasing. “You needed to feel the eroticism. It’s not just rubbing your…” “Stop.” “You were enticed. You couldn’t think of anything but me.” Sugiki had been a goner long before that – it just took a while to accept. “You called me ‘not sexy’. Look at you now.” Suzuki glances at the drying come on his stomach and laughs. They need a shower. “You called me rough and vulgar. Look at you.” “I’m sorry for breaking things off.” Suzuki’s face grows serious. He stares at Sugiki in a way that makes his stomach clench. “Why did you ask me for a dance in front of everyone?” he asks finally. “You would have rejected me if nobody was watching.” Suzuki shrugs and turns his head to look at the window. His dark eyelashes lower, hiding the wet glimmer in his eyes. “Maybe.” Oh. Maybe he wouldn't have.