To Better Suit Your Moves -- part 5
Part 4
A missile hit Jared, jolting him out of a deep hung-over sleep with a squeal. Jared groaned loudly as the bed bounced under him, the squealing noises continuing even as he blindly swung his arm, trying to find the source to shut it up. His hand connected with something, but was then grabbed and tugged, forcing him to raise his head with a blurry, “Whazzit?”
“Jared, wake up! C’mon you lazy bastard, get up!”
Jared groaned and flopped back down. “Alona, what th’ hell?” He squinted over at the clock, and it took a bit before the bright red numbers coalesced in his alcohol-slowed brain. “Why you botherin’ me so damn early?”
“It’s 8 o’clock, that’s not early!” She bounced on the bed extra hard, grinning as he groaned again. “’Course, it is when someone’s been out all night drinking. Where were you?”
“None o’ your business,” Jared muttered, burying his head in the pillow even as he grinned at the memory. The party had been lots of fun, with Chris, Steve and Jensen teaching him more dances in between rounds of beer and storytelling. By the end of the night, Chris had warmed to Jared enough that he’d looped an arm around his neck and slurred that he was “good ‘nuff for m’ boy, s’long as you don’ do anythin’ stupid.”
Well, stupid is as stupid does, and matching them all beer for beer, shot for shot, had obviously been stupid. Despite his size, Jared had never been a heavy drinker, so by the time Steve had slumped off to bed, banging into walls as he went, they were all smashed. Which, given the way his thoughts had been going all day, was just asking for trouble. Still, he couldn’t regret it.
In his alcohol-blurred recollection, one moment stood out clearly. They’d just killed a bottle of Cuervo, and Chris had staggered off in search of more. Jensen had been a giggling mess of a drunk, sprawled out on a bench, leaning on Jared in a mutual effort to keep upright as Jared was just as bad off. Jared had tossed back the last shot, sloppily wiped his mouth then turned to look at Jensen, to find Jensen staring at him with a look that was almost lustful. He’d leaned in, placed one finger on Jared’s lower lip, dragging it gently over the soft flesh in a way that made Jared’s breath catch.
Then the finger left, leaving Jared’s mouth burning from the touch. He watched, gaping, as Jensen stuck that finger in his mouth and sucked, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, they were dark, pupils blown. “Ya missed a spot,” he murmured huskily, then laid his head on Jared’s shoulder with a sigh. That’s when Chris returned with more drinks, and Jared downed his shots with the vague hope that Jensen would do that again.
Instead, they both passed out.
Jared woke at dawn, puked up what felt like a week's worth of meals, then chugged water until he sobered up enough to stagger home and collapse in his bed, still in that fuzzy area between drunk and hungover. So Alona barging in a mere three hours later was very not welcome.
She didn’t take any pity on him, banging her fist on his shoulder hard. “Jared, get your lazy drunken ass outta bed. NOW.”
“Why?” he whined, rolling away from her as much as he could.
“Because Sam’s got some good news for you.” Alone grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “So you’d better get up before she comes up here with a bucket of cold water.”
Jared groaned. Sam would too, he knew from experience. He’d better get up and face the music, so to speak. “Coffee?” he pleaded.
She laughed and tugged the blankets off, making him shiver at the sudden draft of cool air. “Go shower, and I’ll have some waiting for you.”
Reluctantly, Jared did as she ordered. The water felt soothing on his pounding head, making him feel slightly more human. He brushed his teeth, grimacing at the dark circles under his eyes before fumbling into some clean clothes and heading for the kitchen. He heard voices as he approached, and stumbled to a halt to see Sam, Jeff, Kim, and Alona all crowded in the kitchen, talking excitedly. They shut up at the sight of him, then Sam sighed and handed him a mug of steaming coffee.
Jared dredged up a smile and sank into a chair, resting his elbows on the table as he inhaled the fragrant steam. “So, what’s goin’ on?”
Sam exchanged a significant look with Kim, who nodded with a broad smile. “Jared, we’ve got some great news. We’ve found you a new partner.”
Jared raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised at the sinking feeling in his chest. “Yeah? With only two weeks before Nationals? We gonna have time?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” Kim clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s Erica Durance.”
Jared sputtered on the sip of coffee he’d just taken, almost snorting it up his nose. The mug hit the table with a thunk as he stared with wide eyes up at his beaming coach. What? No way. It had to be a joke.
“No joke, Jared.” Kim continued smiling. “Justin Hartley’s retiring. They’re announcing it this weekend at Regionals after their exhibition, so Erica’s hunting for a new partner. That’s going to be you.”
Jared gaped, speechless. Sam and Alona were both nearly beside themselves with joy over this, and even Jeff was smiling from where he was leaning against the counter. Kim squeezed his shoulder. “I’ve set up a try-out, just a formality mind you, for tomorrow.” He eyed Jared critically. “You might want to try making yourself look presentable before then.”
“Oh Jared, this is an answer to our prayers,” Sam gushed, leaning down to hug him. “You dancing with a champion like Erica. I thought you’d never find a new partner, and now everything’s worked out perfectly. You two were made for each other.”
“Yeah,” Jared said hollowly, staring down into his coffee. Made for each other.
Jared soon retreated back to his room and fell back in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He supposed he should be excited that he had a new partner, someone to dance with who had a good chance of at least competing if not winning at Nationals. Erica Durance was the current U.S. Amateur Open Five-Dance Latin champion. She’d been dancing as long as Jared and he’d seen her dance before at several festivals. There was no question they’d work well together; they had very similar styles, and she was no stranger to several of the more complicated routines that the judges loved.
Everyone expected him to be excited and grateful for the opportunity. By all rights he should be. So why wasn’t he?
He managed to doze fitfully until noon, then dragged himself out of bed for some food before heading over to Jensen’s house, mind whirling. What was the matter with him? It wasn’t like he and Jensen could dance together, and Jensen knew that before they’d even started. And dancing with Erica didn’t necessarily mean that anything would change between him and Jensen. It wasn’t like they were dating or anything, or that dancing with someone else equated with cheating.
Yet then why did it feel that way?
Steve answered Jared’s knock and managed a smile, still clearly working through his own hangover. “Jen’s out back,” he muttered, jerking his head towards the screen door off the kitchen. Jared nodded his thanks, picking his way through the debris littering the floor after last night’s party, grabbing a bottle of water from the counter before heading out the back.
Jensen sat slumped in a chair against the wall, sunglasses on, cup of coffee in hand and two empty water bottles at his feet. Jared couldn’t help the chuckle. “How’s the hangover?”
“S’a bitch,” Jensen muttered, sipping at his coffee gingerly. “How much did I drink last night?”
“I stopped counting when we got to the second round of tequila shots.” Jared settled in next to him, chugging half his water in one go. “That’s when Steve turned on the Shania Twain and tried to get you to dance.”
Jensen winced. “Shit. You mean that wasn’t just a bad dream?”
“Nope. Neither was Chris threatening us with Billy Ray Cyrus.”
“Oh, I remember that,” Jensen waved a hand negligently. “He’s used that one for years. Never works, ‘cause Steve and I just throw things at him.”
Jared looked around. “Where is Chris, anyway?”
“Still drooling into his pillow,” Jensen smirked. “He’s gonna be a bitch when he gets up. Hangovers hit him hard, ‘cause he always thinks he can drink me under the table.” He shrugged, leaning his head back against the siding. “Though last night didn’t matter, ‘cause we were all messed up. Good thing he’s an affectionate drunk ‘stead of a mean one.”
“Yeah. And hey, he still passed out before you did.” Jared fiddled with the label on the bottle as a comfortable silence stretched between them. He should tell Jensen about Erica. He’d probably even be happy for him, knowing he could now compete in the Nationals this year, make all their hard work useful. After all, this was the chance of a lifetime.
But sitting here in the shade of the house next to Jensen, so close they could feel each other’s body heat, remembering the touch from last night, the last thing Jared wanted to do was bring up Erica or the studio. This was nice, and Jared felt more at ease than he had in a long time. Why ruin that?
Eventually Jensen cleared this throat. “So, last night, looks like you finally got it.” He tilted his head to grin over at Jared. “Dancing with the music, not just to it.”
Jared chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, suppose so. It just . . . clicked.”
“Good,” Jensen let his smile turn mischievous. “I was ‘bout ready to sic Chris on your ass to teach it to you.”
“Oh God, that woulda been somethin’,” Jared sniggered to himself, already picturing it. “Think he woulda just clobbered me with his guitar?”
“Probably,” Jensen acknowledged, taking another slug of coffee. “Saw him use drumsticks on Dave’s head once when he was havin’ trouble keeping the beat.”
“That why Dave’s not with the band anymore? Brain damage?”
Jensen snorted. “Nah. Worse. A real job. He’s a CPA now with a firm in Houston.”
“That sounds . . . boring.”
“It is. Dunno what went wrong with him.”
They lapsed back into silence, but this time Jared felt tension gathering in his shoulders. He had to tell him. As comfortable as this was, as much as Jared didn’t want to bring it up, he had to. Wouldn’t be fair to Jensen not to. So he cleared his throat and stared down at his feet. “So . . . got another try out tomorrow.”
“Yeah? Who with?”
“Erica Durance.”
Jensen’s head whipped towards him, and even through the sunglasses Jared could see his wide eyes. “No way. Seriously? That’s . . . wow. Wait, doesn’t she already have a partner?”
“He’s retiring. She’s up for grabs as of Regionals, and apparently wants to dance with me.”
“Wow. That’s . . . congratulations, Jared, that’s amazing.” Jensen smiled at him, bright and wide. Jared managed to smile back even though his stomach was twisting like a telephone cord. “You two have a real shot at Nationals together.”
“Yeah.” Jared kept fiddling with his water bottle, tearing the label off in strips.
“Hey,” Jensen reached over and touched his wrist. “You okay?” Jared shrugged. “Well, this is good news, right? You have a partner.”
“Yeah,” Jared stared out over the lawn, feeling Jensen’s hand still on his wrist, then blurted out, “Just, it feels like . . . I already have one.”
He chanced a look over at Jensen, saw him lick his lips nervously as he looked down. “Jared . . . you know we can’t compete together.”
“I know that.” He reached over and gently put his hand on Jensen’s knee. “But I like dancing with you. More than anyone else I’ve ever partnered with.”
Jensen’s leg twitched under his hand, and he seemed to be fighting with himself. “Jared,” he murmured, and something in his voice bolstered Jared’s courage to go further.
He leaned in slightly, not pressuring. “Is it just me?” he asked softly. “I like being with you. I can’t stop thinking about you. Tell me if it’s just me, or if you feel this too.”
Jensen didn’t answer for a long moment, and a sick feeling of dread started to well up in Jared’s throat. Great, he’d gone and screwed everything up, ruined the best friendship he’d ever known, all for what seemed to be a stupid crush. He started to take his hand back, but then Jensen grabbed it and kept it pressed to his knee.
With a sigh, Jensen took off his sunglasses and met Jared’s gaze full on. “It’s not just you,” he murmured. His hand squeezed Jared’s where they lay entwined on his knee. “I feel it too. I . . . I really like you, Jared. It’s just . . . I never . . . well, y’know . . . with . . .”
“Me neither,” Jared whispered, glad he wasn’t alone in this confusion. “Never had the inclination.” He’d never been attracted to men before, never had the slightest reason to think of himself as gay. But here, right now, with Jensen, it didn’t matter. Apparently that went both ways.
Jensen looked down with a small breathy chuckle. “So what do we do now?”
Jared huffed out an amused breath and shook his head. “No idea. What d’you want to do?”
Jensen bit his lip, considering. Jared took the opportunity to slowly stroke his thigh comfortingly, not provocative, feeling rough denim over warm flesh beneath his palm. This felt good, felt right. Jared still had no real idea what to do or even what he wanted, but this, this was good.
Then Jensen’s other hand reached up behind his neck, and Jared snapped his gaze up to meet Jensen’s. Fear and uncertainty battled with desire as Jensen slowly pulled his head down. Jared’s eyes dropped to his lips, plump and slightly wet where he’d licked them. Tthen his eyes closed as their mouths met.
At first it was just a soft touch, lips barely brushing, questioning. Then a longer one, a little taste, questions answered, confidence growing. Jared’s lips parted slightly, Jensen’s head tilted, and suddenly it was a perfect fit. The light touches turned firmer, more certain, as Jared’s hand came up to Jensen’s shoulder, pulling him in closer before sliding up to cradle his jaw.
They broke apart, sucking in air like they’d forgotten how to breathe, staring at each other. “That okay?” Jensen whispered, breath tickling Jared’s mouth, fingers gently massaging the back of his neck.
“Yeah,” he breathed back, leaning in to capture those lips against his again. Jensen tasted like coffee, the faintest hint of cinnamon, and something else. Whatever it was, it was the best thing he’d ever tasted, and he traced his tongue along Jensen’s bottom lip to try and get more of it.
Suddenly the screen door banged open along with a sharp bark of “Hey Jenny!” Jared jumped, almost tipping his chair over as he broke away from Jensen’s grip and tried to turn to face Chris, who had just come marching out of the house scowling, pillow creases on his face and still wearing last night’s clothes.
Chris squinted at them with bloodshot eyes. “Oh, it’s you,” he grumbled. “Thought you’d left.”
Jared cleared his throat, wondering if he could spontaneously combust from the force of his blush. “I did. I came back.”
“Huh.” Chris yawned widely, then looked closer at them. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” Jensen said quickly, face nearly crimson. “Just . . . talking.”
“Talking . . .” Jared echoed. Because they had been. Talking.
Chris looked between the two of them, waiting for his brain to process what he was seeing, then the proverbial light bulb came one and he leered at Jensen. “Talking. Right. Well, dipshit in there,” he jerked his thumb back towards the house, “wants us to help clean up the house. Should I tell him you’re . . . busy?” Who knew a simple wink could look so dirty?
Jensen shot him a quelling look that Chris clearly ignored. Jared quit resisting the urge and just buried his face in his hands, unable to look Chris in the face right then.
Chris retreated into the house, chuckling, and this silence was incredibly awkward. Jared peeked up at Jensen to see him playing with his sunglasses, as flustered as he’d ever seen him. Jensen caught Jared looking at him, then just started laughing.
“Good Lord, that was . . . embarrassing.” Jensen’s cheeks were still red, but his eyes were sparkling and face lit up with mirth as helpless giggles shook him. Jared couldn’t help but laugh as well, letting the tension release. Yeah, it was embarrassing, but at the same time he didn’t, wouldn’t, regret kissing Jensen. He wanted to do it again.
He swooped in to kiss that laughing mouth one more time, and Jensen let him, one hand combing into his hair while the other grabbed his arm. His skin tingled wherever they touched, every nerve ending suddenly hyperaware of Jensen’s proximity, and he wanted more. But not now, not here. He gentled the kiss and they slowly broke away, smiling.
Jared rubbed his nose against Jensen’s, watching as Jensen scrunched up his nose like a cat. “Want me to help you clean up?”
“Yeah, might as well. Since you contributed to the mess and all.” Jensen brushed a chaste kiss over his lips then stood up with a small smile. Jared hauled himself up after him and draped his arm over his shoulders. They walked back into the house that way, where Steve stood waiting with two trash bags and a smirk.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jared sat at the table at the back of the studio, playing with his water bottle as he watched Kim putting the beginners through their paces. Erica was supposed to be there in half an hour and Jared couldn’t stand practicing upstairs anymore. Chad and Sophia had come in and convinced him to help them with a bogo pogo step for the samba, which had disintegrated into them arguing over timing before somehow ending up making out against the mirrors. Jared chose to beat a hasty retreat.
He shifted in the uncomfortable plastic chair with a sigh, watching the beginners. His practiced eye looked over postures, footwork, timing, mentally agreeing with every correction Kim made to them. They were working on the mambo, basic steps and turns, something Jared could dance in his sleep. He wondered if Erica would want to start off with mambo, or maybe samba. The waltz was an obvious warm up, but it was the Latin dances that really helped Jared determine compatibility.
Sam joined him at the table, offering a fresh bottle of water with a smile. Eyebrow raised, Jared accepted it, twisting off the cap and downing several gulps. "You're in a good mood."
"Why shouldn't I be?" Sam nudged him. "Everything finally seems to be working out."
"Maybe. You haven't even seen us dance together yet."
Sam waved a hand negligently. "Oh please. I've seen you both dance, and we both know that you'll work well together. You'll make a beautiful couple. Besides, beggars can't be choosers."
Jared winced at the reminder. Sam caught it and laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Jared, it's okay. We were all worried about you, but honestly? I'm thinking that maybe the festival was a blessing in disguise." Jared frowned questioningly at her, and she clarified, "You and Adrienne were wonderful together, but you and Erica? It's a match made in heaven. You'll be the sure favorites at Nationals."
Jared shrugged, fiddling with his water bottle. The more everyone gushed about him and Erica, the more he felt like a child groom in an arranged marriage. Trying to ignore that analogy, he asked, "Why's Justin retiring? And why now? Why not wait until after Nationals?"
Sam smirked and leaned in conspiratorially. "Well, the official announcement is that he wants to 'pursue other career opportunities'. But I've heard that he's been interested in acting for a while. The gossip is that he's moving out to LA for a role on a soap opera."
Jared snorted a laugh. "Seriously? He's giving up dancing to be a soap star?"
"That's what scuttlebutt says, and from what I've heard from reputable sources, it's true."
Jared grinned at her, amusement growing. The mental image of Justin on TV, blond hair gelled stylishly, teeth capped and gleaming, trying to melodramatically overact while cheesy music swelled in the background . . . he had to stifle a guffaw in his arm. Sam smacked his shoulder lightly in warning, but was chuckling herself. "Oh, I know, the mocking opportunities are endless."
"I take it Erica's not happy with the decision," he managed to say semi-seriously.
"That's an understatement," Sam agreed. "I'd go so far as to say she's pissed. But like I said, blessing in disguise. For all of us." She glanced over at the beginners, nodding in proud approval at what she saw. "This will reflect well on the studio. And if, no, when you win Nationals, well," she smiled at him, "that'll be the best thing that could ever happen to this studio. Give us a lot of good press, put some bad blood to rest. Years of sacrifice and hard work finally paying off for all of us."
She checked her watch and shoved her chair back. “Speaking of which, Erica should be here any minute, hon. Best you get ready and not keep her waiting.”
Jared nodded at her and got up from his chair with a sigh. Time for the dog and pony show.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Most of the time, Jared loved Texas. But right now, in the heat of the afternoon, he was really wishing he was somewhere else. Like Alaska. Or maybe Antarctica. Anyplace that didn’t feel like a blast furnace at 8 o’clock in the freakin’ evening, after a hellishly long day.
He lay on the couch, almost too hot to move, sweat slick-sticky on every inch of skin and nearly melding him to the cushions. Idly he wondered if he could just melt into a puddle, and whether he’d be cooler sitting out on the floor or being absorbed by this couch. But if he was a puddle on the floor, people would step in him and track him all over the hardwood, and he’d have to be mopped up . . .
Okay, it was official. His brain had melted.
Suddenly a jet of freezing water hit his bare stomach and he shrieked, flailing away from the shock and falling off the couch. Laughter echoed around him, and he glared up at Jensen, who was nearly doubled over laughing, water bottle in hand. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t,” Jensen said smugly.
“No, right now, I really, really do,” Jared growled, smearing at the already tepid water on his skin.
“No, you don’t. You know why?” Jensen adjusted a fan so it blew right at Jared, the breeze cooling the damp skin. “Because not only did I find a couple extra fans, but I got the A/C working.”
Jared perked up, listening hard, and sure enough over the whir of the fans around the studio he heard the thump and whoosh of the air conditioner. Laughing, he pounced on Jensen, wrapping his arms around him and picking him up to whirl around. “Man, I love you. You’re a life saver!”
“Ugh! Put me down, you giant sweaty gorilla!” Jensen struggled, grimacing a bit even as a smile tweaked his lips. Jared just grinned and rubbed his face on Jensen’s shoulder, wiping off the sweat and earning him another groan. “You’re disgusting. Seriously, put me down.”
Jared waited a long moment, enjoying the scent and feeling of Jensen pressed against him. He met Jensen’s eyes, read the invitation there and leaned in for a kiss, long and slow even as his body thrilled at being able to do this. When they broke apart, Jared smiled widely, then dropped him.
Jensen stumbled a bit but barked out a laugh, shaking his head with amusement, eyes sparkling. Suddenly much, much happier with his life, Jared took a giant step back and flopped back on the couch with a sigh as he felt the first cool gust of air. “Good. I was afraid we’d have to cancel today ‘cause of threat of spontaneous combustion.”
“Nah, give it a few and it’ll quit resembling one of the lower circles of hell.” Jensen sprawled out on the opposite end of the couch, careful not to get too close, and took a long drink out of his water bottle. “So, how’d the try out go yesterday? With Erica? Sorry I couldn’t stick around for it.”
“S’okay,” Jared muttered, staring up at the ceiling. “It was good. Real good.” It actually had been, too. Erica was a champion, an excellent dancer, and no one could doubt that they looked good together - well, except Erica herself, who had been slightly piqued at how much he towered over her, even with her heels. But at 5 feet 8 inches, at least she was closer in height than Sandy or Alona had been. “She’s a great dancer, and could be a good partner.”
Jensen lolled his head towards Jared and quirked an eyebrow. “So you gonna dance with her? At the championships?”
And that was the question, wasn’t it? It was what everyone seemed to expect out of him, and honestly, it was his best shot at winning. No doubt he and Erica together could charm the judges and sweep the competition. He could finally have his name on that trophy, and the prize money could go a long way.
But did he really want to? Dancing with Erica meant following the rules, dancing the same steps as everyone else. She was a nice girl, but also pretty straight-laced when it came to following regulation steps. It meant letting people like Fredric Lehne and Dawn O. dictate what he was allowed to do, how to move, how to think. For Jared, dancing was life. How could he enjoy it if he was constantly dancing someone else’s steps?
And there was Jensen. Who understood that dance was as natural and fluid as breathing, who wanted more than tired old forms. Who knew how scary and cold life could be, but loved it anyway, enough to chase his dreams without fear. And who, Jared could admit only to himself, complemented Jared’s dance style almost as well as he completed Jared’s life.
Jared could dance with Erica. He probably should.
But he really wanted to dance with Jensen.
Shrugging off the question, Jared pasted on a smile which quickly became more natural as he looked at Jensen, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt, which he was in the process of shrugging off in favor of the simple wifebeater underneath in deference to the afternoon’s heat. Jared had to swallow against a suddenly dry mouth, resisting the urge to scoot across the couch and find out what that spot on Jensen’s collarbone tasted like. He was already overheated; those kind of thoughts were not conducive to cooling down.
Leaning his head back on the couch, Jared closed his eyes and relaxed, listening to Jensen breathe next to him. They sat on the couch until the ambient temperature dropped to something capable of supporting life, then hauled themselves up. Jared crossed over to the CD player, flipping through the binder for music selections.
“Want to start with a tango today?”
Jensen rolled his shoulders as he walked to the middle of the floor, waiting for Jared. “Sure. Sounds good.”
“You know the basics, right?” Jared loaded the CD player then joined Jensen.
“For ballroom? Yeah, more or less, but I’ve never really danced it with anybody before.” There was an amused glint in his eyes that said he wasn’t being entirely forthcoming, but Jared didn’t call him on it. Most likely it was just another dryly sardonic remark that he found prudent to keep to himself.
Jared nodded, raising his arms to the proper frame. “All right. A review. For the tango, arms are held high and tight, open frame. Right hand in hers, left hand supporting her mid back, just below the shoulder blades.” He pulled Jensen to him to demonstrate, and Jensen’s eyes flashed warningly. Jared nodded, accepting the unvoiced and oft-repeated warning.
“Proper posture. For a close embrace, bodies are in contact from lower ribs to upper thighs, legs do not touch, and the upper body is arched to create the offset V position between you. That’s why your hand has to support her, and it allows for the head snaps without risking you bonking heads.”
“Know that from experience?” Jensen teased, and Jared had to grin.
“Yes. And make sure her hair’s always pulled back. Ever get whipped in the eye with long hair?” Jared winced at the memory. Jensen chuckled, the vibrations traveling from his chest into Jared’s in such close proximity, causing his breath to catch for a moment. He was suddenly very aware of how much of their bodies were touching and let go, trying not to back off too quickly and give away just how affected he was.
“Okay, now the steps. It’s a 2x4, so in 4/4 time the strong beats are on two and four. Lead with your left foot, step with your heel, three steps forward, one step right, then bring the feet together. So two slow steps, two quick steps, then slow drag of the foot.” Jared locked his frame again and demonstrated, “Like this. Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. T, A, N G O.”
Jensen watched closely then copied nearly perfectly. His mouth moved faintly as he counted it off to himself, and Jared nodded. Those bow legs made it look a bit more awkward than it should, but his movements were smooth. “Good. That’s a basic. Keep your energy towards the floor, and move first with your joints, let the feet follow, to give it that staccato motion.”
They continued like that for a while, Jared coaching and demonstrating and Jensen duplicating, picking up the steps quickly. Eventually Jared turned on the CD and drew Jensen up close to him again. “Okay, I’m going to lead this time; you follow, but pay attention to what I’m doing. After one time around the floor we’ll switch, you lead.”
Jensen pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. Jared counted off then led off with his left foot, Jensen stepping back perfectly in time with his right. It was smooth, easy, almost effortless in a way it never was with Adrianne. Jensen let his body respond fluidly to Jared’s, anticipating every step and turn, even when Jared threw in a chasse step that had Jensen straddling his thigh as he rocked back on his right foot. That evoked a startled look and a little chuckle.
As they completed the turn, Jared switched hands to give Jensen the lead, and was soon being led across the dance floor with grace. But about halfway through Jensen sighed loudly, giving Jared an inscrutable look.
“What?”
“Is this how you always dance the tango?”
Jared frowned. “What do you mean?”
Jensen stopped and dropped his hands. “Is this how you’ve always danced it with Adrianne?”
“Um, yeah, pretty much.” Jared spread his hands. “So?”
“So? So? A bit of musicality, please!” Jensen did a scarily perfect imitation of Kim. “I mean this is boring! I thought you wanted to dance your own steps. Actually dance, like they were meant to be, not goose step. Or is that only the samba?”
Jared ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “This is the tango. This is how to dance it. How I’ve always danced it, with anybody. Hell, Erica and I did this just yesterday. Yeah, I’ve done some improvisation off it, but it’s not like the samba. Different dances, different feels.”
“Yeah, I’d say so,” Jensen scoffed, walking over to shut off the CD player. “Damn ballroom standardizations. This feels sterile. It doesn’t even need music. It’s so mechanical you could dance to a metronome.” This disgust he put on the last word made it clear this was an insult.
“And what the hell would you know about it?” Jared demanded.
Jensen threw him a dark look as he dug a CD case out of his bag and popped the disc into the player. “Apparently a hell of a lot more than you do. C’mon, have you been paying a single bit of attention to what I’ve been showing you? To what Chris and Steve tried to teach you? You got it the other night.”
Jared clenched his jaw, but didn’t retort. So they had worked on making him feel the music, to follow that and not the steps. That was great for a line dance or salsa or cha cha. But that was what the tango was - a precise series of steps, sharp, in sequence. All it needed was a beat.
Jensen apparently read this on his face, for he gave a little growl of exasperation. “Jared, each of these dances tells a story, right? The samba is joy, the rumba is love.” At Jared’s nod, he continued, “Don’t you know anything about the history of the tango?”
“Not really, but I think you’re about to tell me.”
Jensen ignored the petulant tone. “The tango originates from Argentina, the working classes of Buenos Aires, with its roots in the habanera, the milonga, and some African dance forms. It was particularly popular in the dance halls and brothels. Know why?”
Jared fought not to cross his arms as Jensen stalked closer to him, fire in those green eyes. “Why?”
Jensen stepped right up into his personal space, not quite touching, but Jared could almost feel the thin sliver of air between them crackling. “Because the tango,” he leaned up to hiss in his ear, “is sex.”
Before Jared could do more than shiver, Jensen had pulled him close, chest to chest, nearly nose to nose - well, nose to chin really. “A real tango,” Jensen continued lowly, breath tickling Jared’s neck, “is improvisation. Not a dry set of steps of follow. A living act between two people, bodies communicating. It’s aggression, a duel, machismo and sexuality, energy.
“And let me just say, if you fuck like you dance, I’m gonna be very disappointed in you.”
Jared swallowed hard, his body humming. Oh, that was so unfair. And the worst part was, he probably didn’t even mean it as an innuendo, like he was going to find that out personally . . .
Jensen was still talking. “You know, men used to practice tango together.”
Jared thought he should probably respond to that little tidbit of info, but he was too distracted by the scent of Jensen so close to him. Sandalwood and cinnamon coffee, sweat and musk. He wanted to bury his face in Jensen’s neck, breathe deep of that smell and let it fill him up.
Suddenly Jensen was gone, and Jared nearly fell forward, not realizing until then that he’d been leaning into the touch. Mouth gaping, he watched as Jensen walked back over to the stereo and hit the play button, then spun and fixed Jared with a hotly challenging look. The music started, a sultry swirl of lone violin. “You wanna dance?”
Jared stared at him as Jensen slowly stalked forward with long gliding steps, eyes dark and fixed right on Jared’s. He never directly approached, kept turning his body just a bit, prowling back and forth like a shark zeroing in on bleeding prey. As he watched him advance, Jared suddenly realized that Jensen’s bow legs, which he’d always seen as a bit of a handicap to straight ballroom dancing, were anything but when it came to tango. Jensen was simply walking right now, but it gave it a little extra swagger that suddenly made it predatory, fluid, seductive.
It was one hell of a turn on.
A guitar joined the violin, softly strumming while a male voice started singing. With a slow spin Jensen was right up in Jared’s space again, a little smirk on his lips. “Chris gave me this CD. Ignore the lyrics, but feel the music.” He put his hand on Jared’s chest, right over his heart. “Here. Listen to the rhythm, actually feel it, let it move through you, come alive. Screw the steps. Remember why you’re dancing.”
He slowly circled Jared, hand trailing over chest, shoulders, back, Jared shivering at the light touch. When he was facing Jared again, suddenly a drum jumped in with a classic tango beat, and Jensen shoved him back. Jared scrambled for his footing and found himself dancing backward, Jensen leading him only with the hand on his chest.
Halfway across the floor, Jensen held up his frame and instinctively Jared raised his hands to meet it, trying to adjust to the open embrace. Jensen took the lead, tangoing them through a series of basics and promenades, movements a combination of staccato and sultry, changing with the music. He spun Jared, then copied it, but when they came back together Jensen pushed him back again, almost throwing himself backwards to put even more space between them.
Jared was confused only for a second, then narrowed his eyes in playful challenge. They circled each other, prowling in mirror image, slowly closing the distance until they were face to face again. Jared took the lead this time, pulling Jensen in for a closed embrace, bodies touching chest to thigh. As they danced, their faces were so close they could taste the air the other was breathing, eyes locked and sparking.
“Feel the music,” Jensen growled faintly, twisting in Jared’s grip, apparently frustrated with the standard steps again and about to steal the lead back. But Jared knew the game now, and let Jensen get far enough to spin him around, so his back was now plastered to Jared’s front in the shadow position.
“Feel this,” he rumbled back right in his ear, dropping his frame to trap one of Jensen’s hands against his stomach, the other resting on his hip. He could feel Jensen shudder under his hands as he was forced to step in time with Jared, thighs sliding against and between each other as Jared controlled both their movements. This time when Jared threw in the chasse step, Jensen’s hip ground right back into his groin, and he barely repressed a groan. He threw in a hip twist just to rub harder against him, then spun Jensen out in a grand roulette.
Jensen let his hand go, and they did mirror spins, Jared’s more a pirouette, backing off before prowling around each other again. Watching that slow stalk, the shifting shoulders, the smoldering dark green stare, reminded Jared forcefully of two tigers circling, challenging, evaluating, waiting to pounce . . . and that image shouldn’t be as hot as it was.
Jensen took the lead again, closing the embrace and using the leverage to push Jared back. Jared had never had a partner before that could manhandle him quite like this. It was getting harder to dance as blood flowed quickly south, heat pooling low, straining towards each other through thin slacks. Jared hadn’t had this problem since he was 15, and only with a girl. But this walking seduction between them was hotter than anything he’d ever experienced.
Impulsively Jared wrapped one leg up and around Jensen’s hip in a gancho, forcing them even closer together. Jensen swallowed hard but didn’t miss a beat, twisting them into a side-cross dip, hand gripping tight to Jared’s waist for balance. Jared kept his hands locked on Jensen’s arms, feeling the strength there as he took most of Jared’s weight with grace. His erection was getting impossible to ignore, not with Jensen’s answering heat right next to it, both of them breathing hard.
Straightening up and dropping his leg, Jared let Jensen lead him into a basic as he copied the body movements, let the music play his muscles like an additional instrument. He could feel the music all right, could practically see it sizzling up between them, notes emerging with every shift of gleaming skin and drop of sweat, every panted breath.
Leaning his forehead against Jensen’s, trusting him, Jared closed his eyes for a second, just feeling. The heat of the afternoon, the furnace of Jensen’s body, the wisps of cooler air from the fans; the shifting of muscles, skin sliding together in small touches; the thump of the bass through the floor, all combined with the energy of the music, the power of the drumbeat and the sensuality of the strings loaded with machismo.
This wasn’t dancing anymore. This was foreplay.
But this tango wasn’t finished yet.
With a smirk, Jared stole the lead back into a paired lunge, straightening with a slow drag and hip grind, making it as sultry as he could. Jensen’s eyes were hooded, dark and hazy with lust as they stared back at him, color high on his cheeks. On the next promenade Jensen turned in his arms, hands reaching back to grip Jared’s thighs, leaning back against Jared’s chest as Jared led them backwards. His hands crept higher, strong fingers pressing indentations in Jared’s ass as Jared’s hands spanned Jensen’s hips, stroking lightly as they inched closer to the bulge straining the denim.
Jared had no idea how the hell they were still dancing. Jensen shuddered in his grip, head tipping back to Jared’s shoulder as Jared buried his face in the crook of his neck, lips dragging over skin as he inhaled deeply. His erection was digging into the small of Jensen’s back, and Jensen pressed back into it with a small throaty noise.
The music slowed, a small pause, and they stopped with it, wrapped around each other, at the cusp of something. They could still back off, not do this, not cross that line. Pretend that they hadn’t been molesting each other to music.
Jensen slowly turned, and for a second Jared was sure that this was it, no more. But then Jensen smirked at him, pure seductive evil, and as the music flared again with drums into a crescendoing finish he planted his hand on Jared’s chest and marched him back until Jared’s back hit the wall. Jensen instantly molded himself to Jared, smirk transforming into a look of pure want as that hot gaze dropped to Jared’s mouth.
Enough.
Jared lunged forward, teeth clacking as he took Jensen’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Their groans rumbled through their chests, shared vibrations, as Jensen’s hands tangled in Jared’s hair and kissed back just as fiercely. Jared licked his way past Jensen’s teeth, running his tongue against the top of his mouth as he wrapped his arms around Jensen and pulled him close.
The heat was stifling. Too many clothes, that was the problem. Jared plucked at the back of Jensen’s shirt, running his hands under it to the sweat-damp skin beneath. Jensen broke away from him just long enough to let Jared strip the shirt off him, tossing it somewhere off to the side as he resumed mauling his mouth. The next time they had to part to gasp air into aching lungs, Jared ripped his own shirt off over his head.
Skin on skin. Much better, even if the room now felt even hotter. Sweat just made things slide together easier. Jensen’s hand brushed against Jared’s nipple, and Jared tilted his head back with a moan, thumping it against the mirror at his back. Still playing lightly with the small nub in his fingers, Jensen immediately started kissing and nipping at his throat, burning a trail over the taunt cords before latching onto his pulse point and sucking, raising a dark red bruise.
Jared shuddered, breath hitching in his chest. Oh God. One hand came up to cup the back of Jensen’s head, scratching through his short hair, while the other ran down his back, skittering over hot silky skin to dip under his waistband. Jensen arched with the touch, erections grinding against each other, and they both gasped at the shocks of pleasure from the friction. They grappled, trying to get closer; it felt like they were fusing together, a single mess of sweat, heat, and skin that was the single most perfect thing Jared had ever felt.
“Jen,” he groaned as a tongue lapped at his Adam’s apple, and Jensen rumbled in response, tweaking his nipple once more before dropping his hands to the front of Jared’s pants. His fingers trembled, fumbled with the button, awkwardly trying to remove the barrier even as their hips ground together. Jared attempted to help, but his hands were no steadier.
Eventually buttons popped, zippers were forced down, and Jared choked at the feeling of Jensen’s hand wrapped around his erection. He gritted his teeth, fighting desperately not to come immediately. Jensen grinned shakily, callused fingers tracing the soft skin lightly before he pulled, achingly slow. Jared’s hips bucked helplessly, wanting more.
Frantic to distract himself and even the score, Jared tore at Jensen’s slacks, getting them undone and shoved down as quickly as he could. The next thing he knew, he had Jensen’s cock in his hand, heat searing his palm. He tugged once, letting pre-come and sweat gather on his fingers to slick the next one. Jensen gasped, then pulled back just enough to look Jared in the eye, eyes wide and pupils blown, sweat beaded on his flushed face, lips wine-red and swollen from kisses.
Jared couldn’t resist, leaning down to nip and suck at those lips again as they pressed skin-close, Jensen standing between Jared’s spread thighs so their hips were level with each other. Their knuckles bumped with the first couple tentative strokes, then Jensen released Jared’s cock only to pull Jared’s hand away and lace their fingers together. Shuddering at the sensation of their cocks brushing each other, Jensen wrapped their joined hands around them both.
It couldn’t last long, not with the way they’d been dancing around each other. After only a few jerks, Jared felt the tension coiling at the base of his spine suddenly release, and he came with a loud groan, liquid warmth spattering their hands and stomachs. Jensen leaned against him, pinning him up against the mirror as he moaned into his collarbone, adding to the mess between them.
It was hot and sweaty and sticky and kind of gross. Jared’s hand was cramping where it was jammed awkwardly against Jensen’s hipbone, and he could feel the pulsing throb where Jensen had sucked and bitten at his neck. Jared had never felt better in his entire life.
They stayed like that for a little while, gasping for air and trying to regain their scattered wits. Jared was glad for Jensen’s weight against him, as that was the only thing holding him up on his shaky knees. Also, it just felt damn good to have him there despite the heat.
Eventually he laughed quietly, and Jensen stirred. “What?”
Jared placed a light sucking kiss to Jensen’s neck, right under his ear. “Just realized something . . . no wonder you’re bowlegged, cowboy,” he drawled, shifting his hand to rub the heel against Jensen’s groin, licking away the groan that elicited. “Not ‘cause you ride a horse. ‘Cause you’re hung like one.”
Jensen managed a hoarse laugh, hot breath tickling the sweat on Jared’s neck. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy, eh?”
Jared snickered, and slowly they separated themselves, almost peeling apart. Jensen just looked destroyed, and Jared was sure he didn’t look any better. Jensen brought his hand up to rub his neck, but made a face at the drying come stuck to his fingers. The silence between them threatened to get awkward, gazes meeting then sliding away shyly.
“Um . . . so . . . heh,” Jared rubbed his clean hand through his sweaty tousled hair. “When you said the tango is sex, didn’t think you meant that literally.”
Jensen huffed a laugh, giving him a sidelong glance as he fixed his pants. “You mind?”
“Not at all,” Jared was sure his grin bordered on dopey, but couldn’t care less. He tucked himself away and pushed off the mirror, his legs finally able to support his full weight again. “Don’t think that’ll fly in competition, though.”
“Oh, I dunno. Might shake things up a bit.”
Jared laughed, reaching for his shirt to clean himself up. He swiped over his stomach and wiped off his hand, then threw the shirt in the corner before coming up behind Jensen to wrap himself around him again. Jensen tensed for a second before melting back into his touch with a soft sigh.
“Next time,” Jared murmured in his ear, “let’s skip the music.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
part 6
A missile hit Jared, jolting him out of a deep hung-over sleep with a squeal. Jared groaned loudly as the bed bounced under him, the squealing noises continuing even as he blindly swung his arm, trying to find the source to shut it up. His hand connected with something, but was then grabbed and tugged, forcing him to raise his head with a blurry, “Whazzit?”
“Jared, wake up! C’mon you lazy bastard, get up!”
Jared groaned and flopped back down. “Alona, what th’ hell?” He squinted over at the clock, and it took a bit before the bright red numbers coalesced in his alcohol-slowed brain. “Why you botherin’ me so damn early?”
“It’s 8 o’clock, that’s not early!” She bounced on the bed extra hard, grinning as he groaned again. “’Course, it is when someone’s been out all night drinking. Where were you?”
“None o’ your business,” Jared muttered, burying his head in the pillow even as he grinned at the memory. The party had been lots of fun, with Chris, Steve and Jensen teaching him more dances in between rounds of beer and storytelling. By the end of the night, Chris had warmed to Jared enough that he’d looped an arm around his neck and slurred that he was “good ‘nuff for m’ boy, s’long as you don’ do anythin’ stupid.”
Well, stupid is as stupid does, and matching them all beer for beer, shot for shot, had obviously been stupid. Despite his size, Jared had never been a heavy drinker, so by the time Steve had slumped off to bed, banging into walls as he went, they were all smashed. Which, given the way his thoughts had been going all day, was just asking for trouble. Still, he couldn’t regret it.
In his alcohol-blurred recollection, one moment stood out clearly. They’d just killed a bottle of Cuervo, and Chris had staggered off in search of more. Jensen had been a giggling mess of a drunk, sprawled out on a bench, leaning on Jared in a mutual effort to keep upright as Jared was just as bad off. Jared had tossed back the last shot, sloppily wiped his mouth then turned to look at Jensen, to find Jensen staring at him with a look that was almost lustful. He’d leaned in, placed one finger on Jared’s lower lip, dragging it gently over the soft flesh in a way that made Jared’s breath catch.
Then the finger left, leaving Jared’s mouth burning from the touch. He watched, gaping, as Jensen stuck that finger in his mouth and sucked, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, they were dark, pupils blown. “Ya missed a spot,” he murmured huskily, then laid his head on Jared’s shoulder with a sigh. That’s when Chris returned with more drinks, and Jared downed his shots with the vague hope that Jensen would do that again.
Instead, they both passed out.
Jared woke at dawn, puked up what felt like a week's worth of meals, then chugged water until he sobered up enough to stagger home and collapse in his bed, still in that fuzzy area between drunk and hungover. So Alona barging in a mere three hours later was very not welcome.
She didn’t take any pity on him, banging her fist on his shoulder hard. “Jared, get your lazy drunken ass outta bed. NOW.”
“Why?” he whined, rolling away from her as much as he could.
“Because Sam’s got some good news for you.” Alone grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “So you’d better get up before she comes up here with a bucket of cold water.”
Jared groaned. Sam would too, he knew from experience. He’d better get up and face the music, so to speak. “Coffee?” he pleaded.
She laughed and tugged the blankets off, making him shiver at the sudden draft of cool air. “Go shower, and I’ll have some waiting for you.”
Reluctantly, Jared did as she ordered. The water felt soothing on his pounding head, making him feel slightly more human. He brushed his teeth, grimacing at the dark circles under his eyes before fumbling into some clean clothes and heading for the kitchen. He heard voices as he approached, and stumbled to a halt to see Sam, Jeff, Kim, and Alona all crowded in the kitchen, talking excitedly. They shut up at the sight of him, then Sam sighed and handed him a mug of steaming coffee.
Jared dredged up a smile and sank into a chair, resting his elbows on the table as he inhaled the fragrant steam. “So, what’s goin’ on?”
Sam exchanged a significant look with Kim, who nodded with a broad smile. “Jared, we’ve got some great news. We’ve found you a new partner.”
Jared raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised at the sinking feeling in his chest. “Yeah? With only two weeks before Nationals? We gonna have time?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” Kim clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s Erica Durance.”
Jared sputtered on the sip of coffee he’d just taken, almost snorting it up his nose. The mug hit the table with a thunk as he stared with wide eyes up at his beaming coach. What? No way. It had to be a joke.
“No joke, Jared.” Kim continued smiling. “Justin Hartley’s retiring. They’re announcing it this weekend at Regionals after their exhibition, so Erica’s hunting for a new partner. That’s going to be you.”
Jared gaped, speechless. Sam and Alona were both nearly beside themselves with joy over this, and even Jeff was smiling from where he was leaning against the counter. Kim squeezed his shoulder. “I’ve set up a try-out, just a formality mind you, for tomorrow.” He eyed Jared critically. “You might want to try making yourself look presentable before then.”
“Oh Jared, this is an answer to our prayers,” Sam gushed, leaning down to hug him. “You dancing with a champion like Erica. I thought you’d never find a new partner, and now everything’s worked out perfectly. You two were made for each other.”
“Yeah,” Jared said hollowly, staring down into his coffee. Made for each other.
Jared soon retreated back to his room and fell back in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He supposed he should be excited that he had a new partner, someone to dance with who had a good chance of at least competing if not winning at Nationals. Erica Durance was the current U.S. Amateur Open Five-Dance Latin champion. She’d been dancing as long as Jared and he’d seen her dance before at several festivals. There was no question they’d work well together; they had very similar styles, and she was no stranger to several of the more complicated routines that the judges loved.
Everyone expected him to be excited and grateful for the opportunity. By all rights he should be. So why wasn’t he?
He managed to doze fitfully until noon, then dragged himself out of bed for some food before heading over to Jensen’s house, mind whirling. What was the matter with him? It wasn’t like he and Jensen could dance together, and Jensen knew that before they’d even started. And dancing with Erica didn’t necessarily mean that anything would change between him and Jensen. It wasn’t like they were dating or anything, or that dancing with someone else equated with cheating.
Yet then why did it feel that way?
Steve answered Jared’s knock and managed a smile, still clearly working through his own hangover. “Jen’s out back,” he muttered, jerking his head towards the screen door off the kitchen. Jared nodded his thanks, picking his way through the debris littering the floor after last night’s party, grabbing a bottle of water from the counter before heading out the back.
Jensen sat slumped in a chair against the wall, sunglasses on, cup of coffee in hand and two empty water bottles at his feet. Jared couldn’t help the chuckle. “How’s the hangover?”
“S’a bitch,” Jensen muttered, sipping at his coffee gingerly. “How much did I drink last night?”
“I stopped counting when we got to the second round of tequila shots.” Jared settled in next to him, chugging half his water in one go. “That’s when Steve turned on the Shania Twain and tried to get you to dance.”
Jensen winced. “Shit. You mean that wasn’t just a bad dream?”
“Nope. Neither was Chris threatening us with Billy Ray Cyrus.”
“Oh, I remember that,” Jensen waved a hand negligently. “He’s used that one for years. Never works, ‘cause Steve and I just throw things at him.”
Jared looked around. “Where is Chris, anyway?”
“Still drooling into his pillow,” Jensen smirked. “He’s gonna be a bitch when he gets up. Hangovers hit him hard, ‘cause he always thinks he can drink me under the table.” He shrugged, leaning his head back against the siding. “Though last night didn’t matter, ‘cause we were all messed up. Good thing he’s an affectionate drunk ‘stead of a mean one.”
“Yeah. And hey, he still passed out before you did.” Jared fiddled with the label on the bottle as a comfortable silence stretched between them. He should tell Jensen about Erica. He’d probably even be happy for him, knowing he could now compete in the Nationals this year, make all their hard work useful. After all, this was the chance of a lifetime.
But sitting here in the shade of the house next to Jensen, so close they could feel each other’s body heat, remembering the touch from last night, the last thing Jared wanted to do was bring up Erica or the studio. This was nice, and Jared felt more at ease than he had in a long time. Why ruin that?
Eventually Jensen cleared this throat. “So, last night, looks like you finally got it.” He tilted his head to grin over at Jared. “Dancing with the music, not just to it.”
Jared chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, suppose so. It just . . . clicked.”
“Good,” Jensen let his smile turn mischievous. “I was ‘bout ready to sic Chris on your ass to teach it to you.”
“Oh God, that woulda been somethin’,” Jared sniggered to himself, already picturing it. “Think he woulda just clobbered me with his guitar?”
“Probably,” Jensen acknowledged, taking another slug of coffee. “Saw him use drumsticks on Dave’s head once when he was havin’ trouble keeping the beat.”
“That why Dave’s not with the band anymore? Brain damage?”
Jensen snorted. “Nah. Worse. A real job. He’s a CPA now with a firm in Houston.”
“That sounds . . . boring.”
“It is. Dunno what went wrong with him.”
They lapsed back into silence, but this time Jared felt tension gathering in his shoulders. He had to tell him. As comfortable as this was, as much as Jared didn’t want to bring it up, he had to. Wouldn’t be fair to Jensen not to. So he cleared his throat and stared down at his feet. “So . . . got another try out tomorrow.”
“Yeah? Who with?”
“Erica Durance.”
Jensen’s head whipped towards him, and even through the sunglasses Jared could see his wide eyes. “No way. Seriously? That’s . . . wow. Wait, doesn’t she already have a partner?”
“He’s retiring. She’s up for grabs as of Regionals, and apparently wants to dance with me.”
“Wow. That’s . . . congratulations, Jared, that’s amazing.” Jensen smiled at him, bright and wide. Jared managed to smile back even though his stomach was twisting like a telephone cord. “You two have a real shot at Nationals together.”
“Yeah.” Jared kept fiddling with his water bottle, tearing the label off in strips.
“Hey,” Jensen reached over and touched his wrist. “You okay?” Jared shrugged. “Well, this is good news, right? You have a partner.”
“Yeah,” Jared stared out over the lawn, feeling Jensen’s hand still on his wrist, then blurted out, “Just, it feels like . . . I already have one.”
He chanced a look over at Jensen, saw him lick his lips nervously as he looked down. “Jared . . . you know we can’t compete together.”
“I know that.” He reached over and gently put his hand on Jensen’s knee. “But I like dancing with you. More than anyone else I’ve ever partnered with.”
Jensen’s leg twitched under his hand, and he seemed to be fighting with himself. “Jared,” he murmured, and something in his voice bolstered Jared’s courage to go further.
He leaned in slightly, not pressuring. “Is it just me?” he asked softly. “I like being with you. I can’t stop thinking about you. Tell me if it’s just me, or if you feel this too.”
Jensen didn’t answer for a long moment, and a sick feeling of dread started to well up in Jared’s throat. Great, he’d gone and screwed everything up, ruined the best friendship he’d ever known, all for what seemed to be a stupid crush. He started to take his hand back, but then Jensen grabbed it and kept it pressed to his knee.
With a sigh, Jensen took off his sunglasses and met Jared’s gaze full on. “It’s not just you,” he murmured. His hand squeezed Jared’s where they lay entwined on his knee. “I feel it too. I . . . I really like you, Jared. It’s just . . . I never . . . well, y’know . . . with . . .”
“Me neither,” Jared whispered, glad he wasn’t alone in this confusion. “Never had the inclination.” He’d never been attracted to men before, never had the slightest reason to think of himself as gay. But here, right now, with Jensen, it didn’t matter. Apparently that went both ways.
Jensen looked down with a small breathy chuckle. “So what do we do now?”
Jared huffed out an amused breath and shook his head. “No idea. What d’you want to do?”
Jensen bit his lip, considering. Jared took the opportunity to slowly stroke his thigh comfortingly, not provocative, feeling rough denim over warm flesh beneath his palm. This felt good, felt right. Jared still had no real idea what to do or even what he wanted, but this, this was good.
Then Jensen’s other hand reached up behind his neck, and Jared snapped his gaze up to meet Jensen’s. Fear and uncertainty battled with desire as Jensen slowly pulled his head down. Jared’s eyes dropped to his lips, plump and slightly wet where he’d licked them. Tthen his eyes closed as their mouths met.
At first it was just a soft touch, lips barely brushing, questioning. Then a longer one, a little taste, questions answered, confidence growing. Jared’s lips parted slightly, Jensen’s head tilted, and suddenly it was a perfect fit. The light touches turned firmer, more certain, as Jared’s hand came up to Jensen’s shoulder, pulling him in closer before sliding up to cradle his jaw.
They broke apart, sucking in air like they’d forgotten how to breathe, staring at each other. “That okay?” Jensen whispered, breath tickling Jared’s mouth, fingers gently massaging the back of his neck.
“Yeah,” he breathed back, leaning in to capture those lips against his again. Jensen tasted like coffee, the faintest hint of cinnamon, and something else. Whatever it was, it was the best thing he’d ever tasted, and he traced his tongue along Jensen’s bottom lip to try and get more of it.
Suddenly the screen door banged open along with a sharp bark of “Hey Jenny!” Jared jumped, almost tipping his chair over as he broke away from Jensen’s grip and tried to turn to face Chris, who had just come marching out of the house scowling, pillow creases on his face and still wearing last night’s clothes.
Chris squinted at them with bloodshot eyes. “Oh, it’s you,” he grumbled. “Thought you’d left.”
Jared cleared his throat, wondering if he could spontaneously combust from the force of his blush. “I did. I came back.”
“Huh.” Chris yawned widely, then looked closer at them. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” Jensen said quickly, face nearly crimson. “Just . . . talking.”
“Talking . . .” Jared echoed. Because they had been. Talking.
Chris looked between the two of them, waiting for his brain to process what he was seeing, then the proverbial light bulb came one and he leered at Jensen. “Talking. Right. Well, dipshit in there,” he jerked his thumb back towards the house, “wants us to help clean up the house. Should I tell him you’re . . . busy?” Who knew a simple wink could look so dirty?
Jensen shot him a quelling look that Chris clearly ignored. Jared quit resisting the urge and just buried his face in his hands, unable to look Chris in the face right then.
Chris retreated into the house, chuckling, and this silence was incredibly awkward. Jared peeked up at Jensen to see him playing with his sunglasses, as flustered as he’d ever seen him. Jensen caught Jared looking at him, then just started laughing.
“Good Lord, that was . . . embarrassing.” Jensen’s cheeks were still red, but his eyes were sparkling and face lit up with mirth as helpless giggles shook him. Jared couldn’t help but laugh as well, letting the tension release. Yeah, it was embarrassing, but at the same time he didn’t, wouldn’t, regret kissing Jensen. He wanted to do it again.
He swooped in to kiss that laughing mouth one more time, and Jensen let him, one hand combing into his hair while the other grabbed his arm. His skin tingled wherever they touched, every nerve ending suddenly hyperaware of Jensen’s proximity, and he wanted more. But not now, not here. He gentled the kiss and they slowly broke away, smiling.
Jared rubbed his nose against Jensen’s, watching as Jensen scrunched up his nose like a cat. “Want me to help you clean up?”
“Yeah, might as well. Since you contributed to the mess and all.” Jensen brushed a chaste kiss over his lips then stood up with a small smile. Jared hauled himself up after him and draped his arm over his shoulders. They walked back into the house that way, where Steve stood waiting with two trash bags and a smirk.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jared sat at the table at the back of the studio, playing with his water bottle as he watched Kim putting the beginners through their paces. Erica was supposed to be there in half an hour and Jared couldn’t stand practicing upstairs anymore. Chad and Sophia had come in and convinced him to help them with a bogo pogo step for the samba, which had disintegrated into them arguing over timing before somehow ending up making out against the mirrors. Jared chose to beat a hasty retreat.
He shifted in the uncomfortable plastic chair with a sigh, watching the beginners. His practiced eye looked over postures, footwork, timing, mentally agreeing with every correction Kim made to them. They were working on the mambo, basic steps and turns, something Jared could dance in his sleep. He wondered if Erica would want to start off with mambo, or maybe samba. The waltz was an obvious warm up, but it was the Latin dances that really helped Jared determine compatibility.
Sam joined him at the table, offering a fresh bottle of water with a smile. Eyebrow raised, Jared accepted it, twisting off the cap and downing several gulps. "You're in a good mood."
"Why shouldn't I be?" Sam nudged him. "Everything finally seems to be working out."
"Maybe. You haven't even seen us dance together yet."
Sam waved a hand negligently. "Oh please. I've seen you both dance, and we both know that you'll work well together. You'll make a beautiful couple. Besides, beggars can't be choosers."
Jared winced at the reminder. Sam caught it and laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Jared, it's okay. We were all worried about you, but honestly? I'm thinking that maybe the festival was a blessing in disguise." Jared frowned questioningly at her, and she clarified, "You and Adrienne were wonderful together, but you and Erica? It's a match made in heaven. You'll be the sure favorites at Nationals."
Jared shrugged, fiddling with his water bottle. The more everyone gushed about him and Erica, the more he felt like a child groom in an arranged marriage. Trying to ignore that analogy, he asked, "Why's Justin retiring? And why now? Why not wait until after Nationals?"
Sam smirked and leaned in conspiratorially. "Well, the official announcement is that he wants to 'pursue other career opportunities'. But I've heard that he's been interested in acting for a while. The gossip is that he's moving out to LA for a role on a soap opera."
Jared snorted a laugh. "Seriously? He's giving up dancing to be a soap star?"
"That's what scuttlebutt says, and from what I've heard from reputable sources, it's true."
Jared grinned at her, amusement growing. The mental image of Justin on TV, blond hair gelled stylishly, teeth capped and gleaming, trying to melodramatically overact while cheesy music swelled in the background . . . he had to stifle a guffaw in his arm. Sam smacked his shoulder lightly in warning, but was chuckling herself. "Oh, I know, the mocking opportunities are endless."
"I take it Erica's not happy with the decision," he managed to say semi-seriously.
"That's an understatement," Sam agreed. "I'd go so far as to say she's pissed. But like I said, blessing in disguise. For all of us." She glanced over at the beginners, nodding in proud approval at what she saw. "This will reflect well on the studio. And if, no, when you win Nationals, well," she smiled at him, "that'll be the best thing that could ever happen to this studio. Give us a lot of good press, put some bad blood to rest. Years of sacrifice and hard work finally paying off for all of us."
She checked her watch and shoved her chair back. “Speaking of which, Erica should be here any minute, hon. Best you get ready and not keep her waiting.”
Jared nodded at her and got up from his chair with a sigh. Time for the dog and pony show.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Most of the time, Jared loved Texas. But right now, in the heat of the afternoon, he was really wishing he was somewhere else. Like Alaska. Or maybe Antarctica. Anyplace that didn’t feel like a blast furnace at 8 o’clock in the freakin’ evening, after a hellishly long day.
He lay on the couch, almost too hot to move, sweat slick-sticky on every inch of skin and nearly melding him to the cushions. Idly he wondered if he could just melt into a puddle, and whether he’d be cooler sitting out on the floor or being absorbed by this couch. But if he was a puddle on the floor, people would step in him and track him all over the hardwood, and he’d have to be mopped up . . .
Okay, it was official. His brain had melted.
Suddenly a jet of freezing water hit his bare stomach and he shrieked, flailing away from the shock and falling off the couch. Laughter echoed around him, and he glared up at Jensen, who was nearly doubled over laughing, water bottle in hand. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t,” Jensen said smugly.
“No, right now, I really, really do,” Jared growled, smearing at the already tepid water on his skin.
“No, you don’t. You know why?” Jensen adjusted a fan so it blew right at Jared, the breeze cooling the damp skin. “Because not only did I find a couple extra fans, but I got the A/C working.”
Jared perked up, listening hard, and sure enough over the whir of the fans around the studio he heard the thump and whoosh of the air conditioner. Laughing, he pounced on Jensen, wrapping his arms around him and picking him up to whirl around. “Man, I love you. You’re a life saver!”
“Ugh! Put me down, you giant sweaty gorilla!” Jensen struggled, grimacing a bit even as a smile tweaked his lips. Jared just grinned and rubbed his face on Jensen’s shoulder, wiping off the sweat and earning him another groan. “You’re disgusting. Seriously, put me down.”
Jared waited a long moment, enjoying the scent and feeling of Jensen pressed against him. He met Jensen’s eyes, read the invitation there and leaned in for a kiss, long and slow even as his body thrilled at being able to do this. When they broke apart, Jared smiled widely, then dropped him.
Jensen stumbled a bit but barked out a laugh, shaking his head with amusement, eyes sparkling. Suddenly much, much happier with his life, Jared took a giant step back and flopped back on the couch with a sigh as he felt the first cool gust of air. “Good. I was afraid we’d have to cancel today ‘cause of threat of spontaneous combustion.”
“Nah, give it a few and it’ll quit resembling one of the lower circles of hell.” Jensen sprawled out on the opposite end of the couch, careful not to get too close, and took a long drink out of his water bottle. “So, how’d the try out go yesterday? With Erica? Sorry I couldn’t stick around for it.”
“S’okay,” Jared muttered, staring up at the ceiling. “It was good. Real good.” It actually had been, too. Erica was a champion, an excellent dancer, and no one could doubt that they looked good together - well, except Erica herself, who had been slightly piqued at how much he towered over her, even with her heels. But at 5 feet 8 inches, at least she was closer in height than Sandy or Alona had been. “She’s a great dancer, and could be a good partner.”
Jensen lolled his head towards Jared and quirked an eyebrow. “So you gonna dance with her? At the championships?”
And that was the question, wasn’t it? It was what everyone seemed to expect out of him, and honestly, it was his best shot at winning. No doubt he and Erica together could charm the judges and sweep the competition. He could finally have his name on that trophy, and the prize money could go a long way.
But did he really want to? Dancing with Erica meant following the rules, dancing the same steps as everyone else. She was a nice girl, but also pretty straight-laced when it came to following regulation steps. It meant letting people like Fredric Lehne and Dawn O. dictate what he was allowed to do, how to move, how to think. For Jared, dancing was life. How could he enjoy it if he was constantly dancing someone else’s steps?
And there was Jensen. Who understood that dance was as natural and fluid as breathing, who wanted more than tired old forms. Who knew how scary and cold life could be, but loved it anyway, enough to chase his dreams without fear. And who, Jared could admit only to himself, complemented Jared’s dance style almost as well as he completed Jared’s life.
Jared could dance with Erica. He probably should.
But he really wanted to dance with Jensen.
Shrugging off the question, Jared pasted on a smile which quickly became more natural as he looked at Jensen, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt, which he was in the process of shrugging off in favor of the simple wifebeater underneath in deference to the afternoon’s heat. Jared had to swallow against a suddenly dry mouth, resisting the urge to scoot across the couch and find out what that spot on Jensen’s collarbone tasted like. He was already overheated; those kind of thoughts were not conducive to cooling down.
Leaning his head back on the couch, Jared closed his eyes and relaxed, listening to Jensen breathe next to him. They sat on the couch until the ambient temperature dropped to something capable of supporting life, then hauled themselves up. Jared crossed over to the CD player, flipping through the binder for music selections.
“Want to start with a tango today?”
Jensen rolled his shoulders as he walked to the middle of the floor, waiting for Jared. “Sure. Sounds good.”
“You know the basics, right?” Jared loaded the CD player then joined Jensen.
“For ballroom? Yeah, more or less, but I’ve never really danced it with anybody before.” There was an amused glint in his eyes that said he wasn’t being entirely forthcoming, but Jared didn’t call him on it. Most likely it was just another dryly sardonic remark that he found prudent to keep to himself.
Jared nodded, raising his arms to the proper frame. “All right. A review. For the tango, arms are held high and tight, open frame. Right hand in hers, left hand supporting her mid back, just below the shoulder blades.” He pulled Jensen to him to demonstrate, and Jensen’s eyes flashed warningly. Jared nodded, accepting the unvoiced and oft-repeated warning.
“Proper posture. For a close embrace, bodies are in contact from lower ribs to upper thighs, legs do not touch, and the upper body is arched to create the offset V position between you. That’s why your hand has to support her, and it allows for the head snaps without risking you bonking heads.”
“Know that from experience?” Jensen teased, and Jared had to grin.
“Yes. And make sure her hair’s always pulled back. Ever get whipped in the eye with long hair?” Jared winced at the memory. Jensen chuckled, the vibrations traveling from his chest into Jared’s in such close proximity, causing his breath to catch for a moment. He was suddenly very aware of how much of their bodies were touching and let go, trying not to back off too quickly and give away just how affected he was.
“Okay, now the steps. It’s a 2x4, so in 4/4 time the strong beats are on two and four. Lead with your left foot, step with your heel, three steps forward, one step right, then bring the feet together. So two slow steps, two quick steps, then slow drag of the foot.” Jared locked his frame again and demonstrated, “Like this. Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. T, A, N G O.”
Jensen watched closely then copied nearly perfectly. His mouth moved faintly as he counted it off to himself, and Jared nodded. Those bow legs made it look a bit more awkward than it should, but his movements were smooth. “Good. That’s a basic. Keep your energy towards the floor, and move first with your joints, let the feet follow, to give it that staccato motion.”
They continued like that for a while, Jared coaching and demonstrating and Jensen duplicating, picking up the steps quickly. Eventually Jared turned on the CD and drew Jensen up close to him again. “Okay, I’m going to lead this time; you follow, but pay attention to what I’m doing. After one time around the floor we’ll switch, you lead.”
Jensen pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. Jared counted off then led off with his left foot, Jensen stepping back perfectly in time with his right. It was smooth, easy, almost effortless in a way it never was with Adrianne. Jensen let his body respond fluidly to Jared’s, anticipating every step and turn, even when Jared threw in a chasse step that had Jensen straddling his thigh as he rocked back on his right foot. That evoked a startled look and a little chuckle.
As they completed the turn, Jared switched hands to give Jensen the lead, and was soon being led across the dance floor with grace. But about halfway through Jensen sighed loudly, giving Jared an inscrutable look.
“What?”
“Is this how you always dance the tango?”
Jared frowned. “What do you mean?”
Jensen stopped and dropped his hands. “Is this how you’ve always danced it with Adrianne?”
“Um, yeah, pretty much.” Jared spread his hands. “So?”
“So? So? A bit of musicality, please!” Jensen did a scarily perfect imitation of Kim. “I mean this is boring! I thought you wanted to dance your own steps. Actually dance, like they were meant to be, not goose step. Or is that only the samba?”
Jared ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “This is the tango. This is how to dance it. How I’ve always danced it, with anybody. Hell, Erica and I did this just yesterday. Yeah, I’ve done some improvisation off it, but it’s not like the samba. Different dances, different feels.”
“Yeah, I’d say so,” Jensen scoffed, walking over to shut off the CD player. “Damn ballroom standardizations. This feels sterile. It doesn’t even need music. It’s so mechanical you could dance to a metronome.” This disgust he put on the last word made it clear this was an insult.
“And what the hell would you know about it?” Jared demanded.
Jensen threw him a dark look as he dug a CD case out of his bag and popped the disc into the player. “Apparently a hell of a lot more than you do. C’mon, have you been paying a single bit of attention to what I’ve been showing you? To what Chris and Steve tried to teach you? You got it the other night.”
Jared clenched his jaw, but didn’t retort. So they had worked on making him feel the music, to follow that and not the steps. That was great for a line dance or salsa or cha cha. But that was what the tango was - a precise series of steps, sharp, in sequence. All it needed was a beat.
Jensen apparently read this on his face, for he gave a little growl of exasperation. “Jared, each of these dances tells a story, right? The samba is joy, the rumba is love.” At Jared’s nod, he continued, “Don’t you know anything about the history of the tango?”
“Not really, but I think you’re about to tell me.”
Jensen ignored the petulant tone. “The tango originates from Argentina, the working classes of Buenos Aires, with its roots in the habanera, the milonga, and some African dance forms. It was particularly popular in the dance halls and brothels. Know why?”
Jared fought not to cross his arms as Jensen stalked closer to him, fire in those green eyes. “Why?”
Jensen stepped right up into his personal space, not quite touching, but Jared could almost feel the thin sliver of air between them crackling. “Because the tango,” he leaned up to hiss in his ear, “is sex.”
Before Jared could do more than shiver, Jensen had pulled him close, chest to chest, nearly nose to nose - well, nose to chin really. “A real tango,” Jensen continued lowly, breath tickling Jared’s neck, “is improvisation. Not a dry set of steps of follow. A living act between two people, bodies communicating. It’s aggression, a duel, machismo and sexuality, energy.
“And let me just say, if you fuck like you dance, I’m gonna be very disappointed in you.”
Jared swallowed hard, his body humming. Oh, that was so unfair. And the worst part was, he probably didn’t even mean it as an innuendo, like he was going to find that out personally . . .
Jensen was still talking. “You know, men used to practice tango together.”
Jared thought he should probably respond to that little tidbit of info, but he was too distracted by the scent of Jensen so close to him. Sandalwood and cinnamon coffee, sweat and musk. He wanted to bury his face in Jensen’s neck, breathe deep of that smell and let it fill him up.
Suddenly Jensen was gone, and Jared nearly fell forward, not realizing until then that he’d been leaning into the touch. Mouth gaping, he watched as Jensen walked back over to the stereo and hit the play button, then spun and fixed Jared with a hotly challenging look. The music started, a sultry swirl of lone violin. “You wanna dance?”
Jared stared at him as Jensen slowly stalked forward with long gliding steps, eyes dark and fixed right on Jared’s. He never directly approached, kept turning his body just a bit, prowling back and forth like a shark zeroing in on bleeding prey. As he watched him advance, Jared suddenly realized that Jensen’s bow legs, which he’d always seen as a bit of a handicap to straight ballroom dancing, were anything but when it came to tango. Jensen was simply walking right now, but it gave it a little extra swagger that suddenly made it predatory, fluid, seductive.
It was one hell of a turn on.
A guitar joined the violin, softly strumming while a male voice started singing. With a slow spin Jensen was right up in Jared’s space again, a little smirk on his lips. “Chris gave me this CD. Ignore the lyrics, but feel the music.” He put his hand on Jared’s chest, right over his heart. “Here. Listen to the rhythm, actually feel it, let it move through you, come alive. Screw the steps. Remember why you’re dancing.”
He slowly circled Jared, hand trailing over chest, shoulders, back, Jared shivering at the light touch. When he was facing Jared again, suddenly a drum jumped in with a classic tango beat, and Jensen shoved him back. Jared scrambled for his footing and found himself dancing backward, Jensen leading him only with the hand on his chest.
Halfway across the floor, Jensen held up his frame and instinctively Jared raised his hands to meet it, trying to adjust to the open embrace. Jensen took the lead, tangoing them through a series of basics and promenades, movements a combination of staccato and sultry, changing with the music. He spun Jared, then copied it, but when they came back together Jensen pushed him back again, almost throwing himself backwards to put even more space between them.
Jared was confused only for a second, then narrowed his eyes in playful challenge. They circled each other, prowling in mirror image, slowly closing the distance until they were face to face again. Jared took the lead this time, pulling Jensen in for a closed embrace, bodies touching chest to thigh. As they danced, their faces were so close they could taste the air the other was breathing, eyes locked and sparking.
“Feel the music,” Jensen growled faintly, twisting in Jared’s grip, apparently frustrated with the standard steps again and about to steal the lead back. But Jared knew the game now, and let Jensen get far enough to spin him around, so his back was now plastered to Jared’s front in the shadow position.
“Feel this,” he rumbled back right in his ear, dropping his frame to trap one of Jensen’s hands against his stomach, the other resting on his hip. He could feel Jensen shudder under his hands as he was forced to step in time with Jared, thighs sliding against and between each other as Jared controlled both their movements. This time when Jared threw in the chasse step, Jensen’s hip ground right back into his groin, and he barely repressed a groan. He threw in a hip twist just to rub harder against him, then spun Jensen out in a grand roulette.
Jensen let his hand go, and they did mirror spins, Jared’s more a pirouette, backing off before prowling around each other again. Watching that slow stalk, the shifting shoulders, the smoldering dark green stare, reminded Jared forcefully of two tigers circling, challenging, evaluating, waiting to pounce . . . and that image shouldn’t be as hot as it was.
Jensen took the lead again, closing the embrace and using the leverage to push Jared back. Jared had never had a partner before that could manhandle him quite like this. It was getting harder to dance as blood flowed quickly south, heat pooling low, straining towards each other through thin slacks. Jared hadn’t had this problem since he was 15, and only with a girl. But this walking seduction between them was hotter than anything he’d ever experienced.
Impulsively Jared wrapped one leg up and around Jensen’s hip in a gancho, forcing them even closer together. Jensen swallowed hard but didn’t miss a beat, twisting them into a side-cross dip, hand gripping tight to Jared’s waist for balance. Jared kept his hands locked on Jensen’s arms, feeling the strength there as he took most of Jared’s weight with grace. His erection was getting impossible to ignore, not with Jensen’s answering heat right next to it, both of them breathing hard.
Straightening up and dropping his leg, Jared let Jensen lead him into a basic as he copied the body movements, let the music play his muscles like an additional instrument. He could feel the music all right, could practically see it sizzling up between them, notes emerging with every shift of gleaming skin and drop of sweat, every panted breath.
Leaning his forehead against Jensen’s, trusting him, Jared closed his eyes for a second, just feeling. The heat of the afternoon, the furnace of Jensen’s body, the wisps of cooler air from the fans; the shifting of muscles, skin sliding together in small touches; the thump of the bass through the floor, all combined with the energy of the music, the power of the drumbeat and the sensuality of the strings loaded with machismo.
This wasn’t dancing anymore. This was foreplay.
But this tango wasn’t finished yet.
With a smirk, Jared stole the lead back into a paired lunge, straightening with a slow drag and hip grind, making it as sultry as he could. Jensen’s eyes were hooded, dark and hazy with lust as they stared back at him, color high on his cheeks. On the next promenade Jensen turned in his arms, hands reaching back to grip Jared’s thighs, leaning back against Jared’s chest as Jared led them backwards. His hands crept higher, strong fingers pressing indentations in Jared’s ass as Jared’s hands spanned Jensen’s hips, stroking lightly as they inched closer to the bulge straining the denim.
Jared had no idea how the hell they were still dancing. Jensen shuddered in his grip, head tipping back to Jared’s shoulder as Jared buried his face in the crook of his neck, lips dragging over skin as he inhaled deeply. His erection was digging into the small of Jensen’s back, and Jensen pressed back into it with a small throaty noise.
The music slowed, a small pause, and they stopped with it, wrapped around each other, at the cusp of something. They could still back off, not do this, not cross that line. Pretend that they hadn’t been molesting each other to music.
Jensen slowly turned, and for a second Jared was sure that this was it, no more. But then Jensen smirked at him, pure seductive evil, and as the music flared again with drums into a crescendoing finish he planted his hand on Jared’s chest and marched him back until Jared’s back hit the wall. Jensen instantly molded himself to Jared, smirk transforming into a look of pure want as that hot gaze dropped to Jared’s mouth.
Enough.
Jared lunged forward, teeth clacking as he took Jensen’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Their groans rumbled through their chests, shared vibrations, as Jensen’s hands tangled in Jared’s hair and kissed back just as fiercely. Jared licked his way past Jensen’s teeth, running his tongue against the top of his mouth as he wrapped his arms around Jensen and pulled him close.
The heat was stifling. Too many clothes, that was the problem. Jared plucked at the back of Jensen’s shirt, running his hands under it to the sweat-damp skin beneath. Jensen broke away from him just long enough to let Jared strip the shirt off him, tossing it somewhere off to the side as he resumed mauling his mouth. The next time they had to part to gasp air into aching lungs, Jared ripped his own shirt off over his head.
Skin on skin. Much better, even if the room now felt even hotter. Sweat just made things slide together easier. Jensen’s hand brushed against Jared’s nipple, and Jared tilted his head back with a moan, thumping it against the mirror at his back. Still playing lightly with the small nub in his fingers, Jensen immediately started kissing and nipping at his throat, burning a trail over the taunt cords before latching onto his pulse point and sucking, raising a dark red bruise.
Jared shuddered, breath hitching in his chest. Oh God. One hand came up to cup the back of Jensen’s head, scratching through his short hair, while the other ran down his back, skittering over hot silky skin to dip under his waistband. Jensen arched with the touch, erections grinding against each other, and they both gasped at the shocks of pleasure from the friction. They grappled, trying to get closer; it felt like they were fusing together, a single mess of sweat, heat, and skin that was the single most perfect thing Jared had ever felt.
“Jen,” he groaned as a tongue lapped at his Adam’s apple, and Jensen rumbled in response, tweaking his nipple once more before dropping his hands to the front of Jared’s pants. His fingers trembled, fumbled with the button, awkwardly trying to remove the barrier even as their hips ground together. Jared attempted to help, but his hands were no steadier.
Eventually buttons popped, zippers were forced down, and Jared choked at the feeling of Jensen’s hand wrapped around his erection. He gritted his teeth, fighting desperately not to come immediately. Jensen grinned shakily, callused fingers tracing the soft skin lightly before he pulled, achingly slow. Jared’s hips bucked helplessly, wanting more.
Frantic to distract himself and even the score, Jared tore at Jensen’s slacks, getting them undone and shoved down as quickly as he could. The next thing he knew, he had Jensen’s cock in his hand, heat searing his palm. He tugged once, letting pre-come and sweat gather on his fingers to slick the next one. Jensen gasped, then pulled back just enough to look Jared in the eye, eyes wide and pupils blown, sweat beaded on his flushed face, lips wine-red and swollen from kisses.
Jared couldn’t resist, leaning down to nip and suck at those lips again as they pressed skin-close, Jensen standing between Jared’s spread thighs so their hips were level with each other. Their knuckles bumped with the first couple tentative strokes, then Jensen released Jared’s cock only to pull Jared’s hand away and lace their fingers together. Shuddering at the sensation of their cocks brushing each other, Jensen wrapped their joined hands around them both.
It couldn’t last long, not with the way they’d been dancing around each other. After only a few jerks, Jared felt the tension coiling at the base of his spine suddenly release, and he came with a loud groan, liquid warmth spattering their hands and stomachs. Jensen leaned against him, pinning him up against the mirror as he moaned into his collarbone, adding to the mess between them.
It was hot and sweaty and sticky and kind of gross. Jared’s hand was cramping where it was jammed awkwardly against Jensen’s hipbone, and he could feel the pulsing throb where Jensen had sucked and bitten at his neck. Jared had never felt better in his entire life.
They stayed like that for a little while, gasping for air and trying to regain their scattered wits. Jared was glad for Jensen’s weight against him, as that was the only thing holding him up on his shaky knees. Also, it just felt damn good to have him there despite the heat.
Eventually he laughed quietly, and Jensen stirred. “What?”
Jared placed a light sucking kiss to Jensen’s neck, right under his ear. “Just realized something . . . no wonder you’re bowlegged, cowboy,” he drawled, shifting his hand to rub the heel against Jensen’s groin, licking away the groan that elicited. “Not ‘cause you ride a horse. ‘Cause you’re hung like one.”
Jensen managed a hoarse laugh, hot breath tickling the sweat on Jared’s neck. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy, eh?”
Jared snickered, and slowly they separated themselves, almost peeling apart. Jensen just looked destroyed, and Jared was sure he didn’t look any better. Jensen brought his hand up to rub his neck, but made a face at the drying come stuck to his fingers. The silence between them threatened to get awkward, gazes meeting then sliding away shyly.
“Um . . . so . . . heh,” Jared rubbed his clean hand through his sweaty tousled hair. “When you said the tango is sex, didn’t think you meant that literally.”
Jensen huffed a laugh, giving him a sidelong glance as he fixed his pants. “You mind?”
“Not at all,” Jared was sure his grin bordered on dopey, but couldn’t care less. He tucked himself away and pushed off the mirror, his legs finally able to support his full weight again. “Don’t think that’ll fly in competition, though.”
“Oh, I dunno. Might shake things up a bit.”
Jared laughed, reaching for his shirt to clean himself up. He swiped over his stomach and wiped off his hand, then threw the shirt in the corner before coming up behind Jensen to wrap himself around him again. Jensen tensed for a second before melting back into his touch with a soft sigh.
“Next time,” Jared murmured in his ear, “let’s skip the music.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
part 6