Do you only wanna dance
Title: Do you only wanna dance
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General, AU
Pairing: Donghae/Hyukjae
Summary: Hyukjae experiences the taste of the dancing in the Havana nights for the first time.
A/N: Inspired by Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights Latin ballroom competition scene. For the celebration of the opening of this community, and because tees2mai, drawingintheair and curionenene have always been encouraging me to write. And I really tried writing smut, I don’t know why it’s PG-13.
Bright colours are eye-catching, but between them all, it is hard to differentiate which shade is particularly striking and stunning. There is so much to focus on, men spinning their counterparts, dresses flying up so prettily that they mesmerize. Yet no one shows their true self, their appearances all covered by one single mask, emotionless, dead, It’s in stark contrast to the sensual hunter-and-prey game on the dance floor where everyone is fully concentrated on their dance partners; it’s almost possible to stand in the middle and not feeling out of place.
Tilting his head to the side, Hyukjae lifts the glass of champagne to his lips, imprinting those marks against the cool glass surface smoothly. A purple, almost silky mask hides his features, leaving only his eyes and the lower half of his face visible. Not like it is of any much use, Hyukjae thinks to himself as he sets the flute back onto the table. It is one of those rare balls or ballroom occasions which he is actually allowed to attend, but there seems to be nothing that interests him.
Except for the passionate dancing on the dance floor.
It isn’t the type where one can strictly classify as Latin ballroom dancing, yet it isn’t the absolutely sleazy type that upper society would loathe. It’s a mix, Hyukjae thinks, like a cocktail with two unique and distinct flavours, yet blended perfectly to showcase both individualities. This was strictly frowned upon, as Hyukjae knows too familiarly from his background; he was never exposed to such dancing styles before, with videos of them casted in shadows in the basement, never brought up again.
Throwing a cursory glance over the ballroom, Hyukjae sees it in their eyes, the desire, the want, the lust for each other; it’s undeniably lucid and apparent, Hyukjae almost feels as if he is caught in the intricate web of pent-up longing and yearning for anyone, anyone at all.
The song switches, yet the dancers don’t; they continue to move against each other, like some obscure and elaborate dance that only the two of them are solely involved in. No one else can attempt to join, because it’s a game, a game to see who falls first.
Funny thing is when I look into your eyes,
I sense something so sincere in your disguise
A hand comes into Hyukjae’s view, cutting off his gaze concentrated on several couples on the dance floor, provoking his annoyance. He hides his emotions behind a well-concealed mask he has been used to wearing since a long time ago, eyes conveying nothing but polite interest as he follows the hand to a face. Silver, elegant and smooth, almost as if that was what silk would do when it lands on smooth skin, sliding to the floor, providing whispers of what was there, and what is to come.
“If you take my hands and follow my lead, I’ll make you dance,” The stranger smiles, voice and tone undeniably young. Hyukjae almost scoffs at the poor introduction and request, his mind already going through the thought processes to reject this particular guy. His thoughts are cut off abruptly as he realizes he isn’t given much of a choice, being forcefully pulled right up and led onto the dance floor. Stumbling awkwardly behind with his mouth slightly agape in protest of this particular stranger’s rudeness and impolite behavior, Hyukjae tugs on that arm, bringing the both of them to an almost predicted halt as they are about to enter the dance floor.
“I’m a male, if you haven’t realized with my suit, males don’t dance toget-”
He stops as the other takes a step forward abruptly, invading his personal space almost immediately that Hyukjae can smell the cologne that murmurs of secrets hidden under the mask. A smile, and Hyukjae finds himself confused, one wrong move and I’ll drown ya, is all Hyukjae can glean from the aura emitted by the guy.
“But if you get my feet and miss the beat, then I can’t take chance.” The stranger rolls the sentence off his tongue with a mischievous smirk adorned on his countenance, and Hyukjae finds himself being led to a completely different direction, heading towards the balcony instead of the dance floor where Hyukjae was just so close, so close to falling right into its trap.
The beat of the music isn’t strong, slow, beating, almost as if it may grow on you and you will find it sweeping you off your feet. To be honest, Hyukjae wasn’t expecting such music at such places with fine dining etiquette and certain social rules to follow. If he had to put a finger to it, he would say it was calm and jazzy, yet so seductive with the lyrics. With one shrug of her shoulders and a few gestures of the hands, Hyukjae swears this is the exact tele-smoke screen that he never wants to wake up from. He just isn’t sure if it’s due to the female singer with her eyelashes batting, or it is the particular stranger pulling at his arm.
Hyukjae is almost ready to make a decision as they reach the balcony, but he is caught off guard as he is almost thrown against the banister, losing his balance as he grips the railing tightly to prevent his fall. There is no time for him to recover, as he finds himself whirled around and the other pressing up so closely, that Hyukjae can feel every single trace and grooves so prominently evident in the other’s body. “I’ll have this dance,” the stranger whispers again before catching Hyukjae’s hands, positioning him in the correct position, eyes always locked onto his, as if Hyukjae will never be given a chance to escape.
And that’ll end ya
You should surrender
Unless you give in so stop, baby stop you’re surrounded
There’s a lot to think, Hyukjae’s mind naturally comes up with this conclusion, and it logically follows through with the questions. His feet moves automatically to the song, like how he was taught properly in ballroom dancing, rigid set of arms, proper positioning and guided steps. He refuses to give into the stranger, refuses to dance to how he is supposed or expected to, until the other moves closer to trap him against the railings, thigh in between his legs every single time Hyukjae tries to take a step. He opens his mouth to object, only to find his voice withering when the other places his face so close to him that Hyukjae isn’t sure if their masks are separate entities.
You put your lips very closely to my face
And then you run away, and so begins the chase
“Donghae,” He enunciates the syllables softly, yet clearly, and Hyukjae thinks it’s probably due to the almost non-existent distance between them. The former turns himself away from Hyukjae right after the introduction, then catching himself and spinning right back, hands placed just right on spot on Hyukjae’s shoulders, running up and down to conform to Hyukjae’s biceps. A hand then makes its way up to Hyukjae’s chin, and Hyukjae can’t help but be fascinated by how the other is dancing, out of the boundaries, breaking rules here and there without additional worries, yet untamed, free and sensual. The fingers start to tickle, and Hyukjae finds himself entranced, following the wild rhythm of the night as he steps away from the banister, slipping into Donghae’s dance style almost immediately.
I’m tired of dropping clues so when I step to you,
Will you rise to my occasion
Or will you make me change your station
Soon Hyukjae realizes he isn’t dancing; he is being played like how a musician will do to his guitar, fully explored, utilized, and sometimes till the point of exploitation. There is a hand slipping down his perfectly ironed shirt hidden by the suit, so gradually that Hyukjae can almost feel every single nerve in his chest respond and burn to that aching need, eyes slowly reflecting the change within him. He’s turned around, like from Point A to D all of a sudden, with Donghae’s chin resting on his shoulder from behind, moving down, downwards and more, and all Hyukjae do is only to rotate his hips in that way Donghae had done so sinfully pressed up behind him just a moment ago, head thrown back slightly at the sensation, because nothing has ever felt so good to be lost in something this dangerous.
His body is being strummed perfectly, as if he is Donghae’s own, personal toy. A hand slips down the middle of his chest, all the way down, and Hyukjae finds himself being spun away, only to be caught by the hand and whirled right back into the embrace of the other, whose eyes are now serious and smirk no longer found. So this is the hunter-and-prey game, Hyukjae deduces, and he has already lost all so willingly at the start.
Pull, push, drawing close, yet drawing away, a dance of two butterflies has never been even more intricate than this.
Or do you only wanna dance?
One hand pushing against Donghae’s chest, dictating the pace and the way they move, Hyukjae finds himself spellbound, unable to tear his eyes off the stranger as Donghae catches his hand again to pull him close, hands going around him yet not wrapping around, slick, rough, resisting, dragging every single callus over Hyukjae’s neck. Hyukjae gives in; he lets himself shiver once, and he lets himself be whirled by Donghae, before getting pulled and locked tightly against the other’s body.
I wait patiently while you play your game,
Because in the end, I’ll be the winner all the same
He cannot look away, he can’t, and he finds it easy to let Donghae lean it and kiss him while his mouth is partially open with the amount of tension in just this one dance alone. Donghae lets his hand loose, and Hyukjae draws it back slightly, but he remains, already too mind blown to consider the aftereffects of this dirty dancing episode in the balcony. It suits the music, the atmosphere, and it goes with the flow, goes against what Hyukjae has always believed in, and Hyukjae finds himself willing to be fully immersed in it just by this single action of Donghae’s.
Donghae pulls his hand down the expanse of Hyukjae’s upper body, and Hyukjae shivers into the kiss, right before he feels another slick muscle join his in his mouth. No one moves, no one changes their position, no one wants to. Their faces are rigid in position, like the strict lines in ballroom dancing, with only allowed minimal movement from side to side as Hyukjae presses his face even closer, parting his lips to inhale more of that scent which had brought excitement he had never known before to his life. But that hand travelling down to the zip of his pants doesn’t feel like ballroom dancing, and Hyukjae resists the urge to will the stranger to venture into dirty dancing.
Feel your innocence
Slip into, the night, baby hold on tight
So he pulls away, yet their noses are still pressed up against each other, looking, staring, gazing intensely into each other’s eyes like neither is willing to give it up just like that. Hyukjae grins, before he pulls himself away gently and back, dissolving the tense vibes after that kiss almost immediately. There is never someone like this who dares to play with him, Hyukjae notes, and he sees the flash of recognition in Donghae’s eyes.
But no one seems to care, much less Donghae, and Hyukjae almost wishes he could know where he is going to end up for tonight.
The music ends, claps ensue, and Donghae stops the seductive rhythm, putting his hands in between them to push softly at Hyukjae’s shoulders, increasing the distance between them. He raises one finger, as if to remind Hyukjae, that just one, just one dance is all he was allowed to take from him, nothing else.
You’ll see clearly when the song comes to a stop
I’ll be the one, blowing kisses from the top
As Donghae takes another step back, Hyukjae has to physically clasp his hands together to stop them from lifting, or even ripping off that silver mask in front of him.
Taking off his purple mask, he sees the acknowledgement in Donghae’s eyes, who then steps back to nod his head politely at him, eyes dancing yet posture courteous and formal.
Hyukjae continues to watch as Donghae turns and walks away, until he is nothing but a blend in the crowd, until Hyukjae doesn’t know exactly which silver mask belongs to Donghae anymore. Or if Donghae was his true name, or just a pseudo-name.
He leans against the banister, feeling the cool air brush across his cheeks, and somewhere in the back of his mind the music and dancing of Havana nights burns into his memory.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General, AU
Pairing: Donghae/Hyukjae
Summary: Hyukjae experiences the taste of the dancing in the Havana nights for the first time.
A/N: Inspired by Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights Latin ballroom competition scene. For the celebration of the opening of this community, and because tees2mai, drawingintheair and curionenene have always been encouraging me to write. And I really tried writing smut, I don’t know why it’s PG-13.
Bright colours are eye-catching, but between them all, it is hard to differentiate which shade is particularly striking and stunning. There is so much to focus on, men spinning their counterparts, dresses flying up so prettily that they mesmerize. Yet no one shows their true self, their appearances all covered by one single mask, emotionless, dead, It’s in stark contrast to the sensual hunter-and-prey game on the dance floor where everyone is fully concentrated on their dance partners; it’s almost possible to stand in the middle and not feeling out of place.
Tilting his head to the side, Hyukjae lifts the glass of champagne to his lips, imprinting those marks against the cool glass surface smoothly. A purple, almost silky mask hides his features, leaving only his eyes and the lower half of his face visible. Not like it is of any much use, Hyukjae thinks to himself as he sets the flute back onto the table. It is one of those rare balls or ballroom occasions which he is actually allowed to attend, but there seems to be nothing that interests him.
Except for the passionate dancing on the dance floor.
It isn’t the type where one can strictly classify as Latin ballroom dancing, yet it isn’t the absolutely sleazy type that upper society would loathe. It’s a mix, Hyukjae thinks, like a cocktail with two unique and distinct flavours, yet blended perfectly to showcase both individualities. This was strictly frowned upon, as Hyukjae knows too familiarly from his background; he was never exposed to such dancing styles before, with videos of them casted in shadows in the basement, never brought up again.
Throwing a cursory glance over the ballroom, Hyukjae sees it in their eyes, the desire, the want, the lust for each other; it’s undeniably lucid and apparent, Hyukjae almost feels as if he is caught in the intricate web of pent-up longing and yearning for anyone, anyone at all.
The song switches, yet the dancers don’t; they continue to move against each other, like some obscure and elaborate dance that only the two of them are solely involved in. No one else can attempt to join, because it’s a game, a game to see who falls first.
Funny thing is when I look into your eyes,
I sense something so sincere in your disguise
A hand comes into Hyukjae’s view, cutting off his gaze concentrated on several couples on the dance floor, provoking his annoyance. He hides his emotions behind a well-concealed mask he has been used to wearing since a long time ago, eyes conveying nothing but polite interest as he follows the hand to a face. Silver, elegant and smooth, almost as if that was what silk would do when it lands on smooth skin, sliding to the floor, providing whispers of what was there, and what is to come.
“If you take my hands and follow my lead, I’ll make you dance,” The stranger smiles, voice and tone undeniably young. Hyukjae almost scoffs at the poor introduction and request, his mind already going through the thought processes to reject this particular guy. His thoughts are cut off abruptly as he realizes he isn’t given much of a choice, being forcefully pulled right up and led onto the dance floor. Stumbling awkwardly behind with his mouth slightly agape in protest of this particular stranger’s rudeness and impolite behavior, Hyukjae tugs on that arm, bringing the both of them to an almost predicted halt as they are about to enter the dance floor.
“I’m a male, if you haven’t realized with my suit, males don’t dance toget-”
He stops as the other takes a step forward abruptly, invading his personal space almost immediately that Hyukjae can smell the cologne that murmurs of secrets hidden under the mask. A smile, and Hyukjae finds himself confused, one wrong move and I’ll drown ya, is all Hyukjae can glean from the aura emitted by the guy.
“But if you get my feet and miss the beat, then I can’t take chance.” The stranger rolls the sentence off his tongue with a mischievous smirk adorned on his countenance, and Hyukjae finds himself being led to a completely different direction, heading towards the balcony instead of the dance floor where Hyukjae was just so close, so close to falling right into its trap.
The beat of the music isn’t strong, slow, beating, almost as if it may grow on you and you will find it sweeping you off your feet. To be honest, Hyukjae wasn’t expecting such music at such places with fine dining etiquette and certain social rules to follow. If he had to put a finger to it, he would say it was calm and jazzy, yet so seductive with the lyrics. With one shrug of her shoulders and a few gestures of the hands, Hyukjae swears this is the exact tele-smoke screen that he never wants to wake up from. He just isn’t sure if it’s due to the female singer with her eyelashes batting, or it is the particular stranger pulling at his arm.
Hyukjae is almost ready to make a decision as they reach the balcony, but he is caught off guard as he is almost thrown against the banister, losing his balance as he grips the railing tightly to prevent his fall. There is no time for him to recover, as he finds himself whirled around and the other pressing up so closely, that Hyukjae can feel every single trace and grooves so prominently evident in the other’s body. “I’ll have this dance,” the stranger whispers again before catching Hyukjae’s hands, positioning him in the correct position, eyes always locked onto his, as if Hyukjae will never be given a chance to escape.
And that’ll end ya
You should surrender
Unless you give in so stop, baby stop you’re surrounded
There’s a lot to think, Hyukjae’s mind naturally comes up with this conclusion, and it logically follows through with the questions. His feet moves automatically to the song, like how he was taught properly in ballroom dancing, rigid set of arms, proper positioning and guided steps. He refuses to give into the stranger, refuses to dance to how he is supposed or expected to, until the other moves closer to trap him against the railings, thigh in between his legs every single time Hyukjae tries to take a step. He opens his mouth to object, only to find his voice withering when the other places his face so close to him that Hyukjae isn’t sure if their masks are separate entities.
You put your lips very closely to my face
And then you run away, and so begins the chase
“Donghae,” He enunciates the syllables softly, yet clearly, and Hyukjae thinks it’s probably due to the almost non-existent distance between them. The former turns himself away from Hyukjae right after the introduction, then catching himself and spinning right back, hands placed just right on spot on Hyukjae’s shoulders, running up and down to conform to Hyukjae’s biceps. A hand then makes its way up to Hyukjae’s chin, and Hyukjae can’t help but be fascinated by how the other is dancing, out of the boundaries, breaking rules here and there without additional worries, yet untamed, free and sensual. The fingers start to tickle, and Hyukjae finds himself entranced, following the wild rhythm of the night as he steps away from the banister, slipping into Donghae’s dance style almost immediately.
I’m tired of dropping clues so when I step to you,
Will you rise to my occasion
Or will you make me change your station
Soon Hyukjae realizes he isn’t dancing; he is being played like how a musician will do to his guitar, fully explored, utilized, and sometimes till the point of exploitation. There is a hand slipping down his perfectly ironed shirt hidden by the suit, so gradually that Hyukjae can almost feel every single nerve in his chest respond and burn to that aching need, eyes slowly reflecting the change within him. He’s turned around, like from Point A to D all of a sudden, with Donghae’s chin resting on his shoulder from behind, moving down, downwards and more, and all Hyukjae do is only to rotate his hips in that way Donghae had done so sinfully pressed up behind him just a moment ago, head thrown back slightly at the sensation, because nothing has ever felt so good to be lost in something this dangerous.
His body is being strummed perfectly, as if he is Donghae’s own, personal toy. A hand slips down the middle of his chest, all the way down, and Hyukjae finds himself being spun away, only to be caught by the hand and whirled right back into the embrace of the other, whose eyes are now serious and smirk no longer found. So this is the hunter-and-prey game, Hyukjae deduces, and he has already lost all so willingly at the start.
Pull, push, drawing close, yet drawing away, a dance of two butterflies has never been even more intricate than this.
Or do you only wanna dance?
One hand pushing against Donghae’s chest, dictating the pace and the way they move, Hyukjae finds himself spellbound, unable to tear his eyes off the stranger as Donghae catches his hand again to pull him close, hands going around him yet not wrapping around, slick, rough, resisting, dragging every single callus over Hyukjae’s neck. Hyukjae gives in; he lets himself shiver once, and he lets himself be whirled by Donghae, before getting pulled and locked tightly against the other’s body.
I wait patiently while you play your game,
Because in the end, I’ll be the winner all the same
He cannot look away, he can’t, and he finds it easy to let Donghae lean it and kiss him while his mouth is partially open with the amount of tension in just this one dance alone. Donghae lets his hand loose, and Hyukjae draws it back slightly, but he remains, already too mind blown to consider the aftereffects of this dirty dancing episode in the balcony. It suits the music, the atmosphere, and it goes with the flow, goes against what Hyukjae has always believed in, and Hyukjae finds himself willing to be fully immersed in it just by this single action of Donghae’s.
Donghae pulls his hand down the expanse of Hyukjae’s upper body, and Hyukjae shivers into the kiss, right before he feels another slick muscle join his in his mouth. No one moves, no one changes their position, no one wants to. Their faces are rigid in position, like the strict lines in ballroom dancing, with only allowed minimal movement from side to side as Hyukjae presses his face even closer, parting his lips to inhale more of that scent which had brought excitement he had never known before to his life. But that hand travelling down to the zip of his pants doesn’t feel like ballroom dancing, and Hyukjae resists the urge to will the stranger to venture into dirty dancing.
Feel your innocence
Slip into, the night, baby hold on tight
So he pulls away, yet their noses are still pressed up against each other, looking, staring, gazing intensely into each other’s eyes like neither is willing to give it up just like that. Hyukjae grins, before he pulls himself away gently and back, dissolving the tense vibes after that kiss almost immediately. There is never someone like this who dares to play with him, Hyukjae notes, and he sees the flash of recognition in Donghae’s eyes.
But no one seems to care, much less Donghae, and Hyukjae almost wishes he could know where he is going to end up for tonight.
The music ends, claps ensue, and Donghae stops the seductive rhythm, putting his hands in between them to push softly at Hyukjae’s shoulders, increasing the distance between them. He raises one finger, as if to remind Hyukjae, that just one, just one dance is all he was allowed to take from him, nothing else.
You’ll see clearly when the song comes to a stop
I’ll be the one, blowing kisses from the top
As Donghae takes another step back, Hyukjae has to physically clasp his hands together to stop them from lifting, or even ripping off that silver mask in front of him.
Taking off his purple mask, he sees the acknowledgement in Donghae’s eyes, who then steps back to nod his head politely at him, eyes dancing yet posture courteous and formal.
Hyukjae continues to watch as Donghae turns and walks away, until he is nothing but a blend in the crowd, until Hyukjae doesn’t know exactly which silver mask belongs to Donghae anymore. Or if Donghae was his true name, or just a pseudo-name.
He leans against the banister, feeling the cool air brush across his cheeks, and somewhere in the back of his mind the music and dancing of Havana nights burns into his memory.