scaredywombat | Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

Chase had shown up late to rehearsal, again. "Late" by dancer standards, at least, which meant right under the wire, still pulling his hair back and only just starting his warmups when the director walked in, clapping her hands and calling everyone to attention and to take their places. They were about a month out from their production of Swan Lake, which was the ballet that was considered by dance critics to be their company's strongest production. The company director was trying to make this performance better than the years before, while still trying to finish securing the details of their next run. It was chaotic, and Chase thrived on it. Even as busy as he was with college, he wouldn't give this up for the world. In the studio, he was far more alive than he was in the classroom, even if he was taking it seriously. Medicine. Becoming a doctor. Not what he wanted to do with his life, but he couldn't afford Julliard teaching five year olds how to plie, even if he wishes that he could. His classes and rehearsals run rather tight together, and he knows that a number of the other dancers judge him for it, but Robert pretends not to notice.

Or it's the fact that he's slept with more than a couple of his coworkers. People get so jumpy about sex, about who's having it and who isn't. Chase likes sex, and he's never seen it as a bad thing, never really had the desire to hide his interest. Other people just lie about it.

Rehearsal isn't particularly remarkable, at least not in matters of routine. They start off in pairs, running through movements and lifts, contact and extensions, to the often repeated instructions of grace and evoking simplicity in movement. They work their way in broad strokes through the third act with their instructor tweaking arms and pulling legs and saying hold. The same as the past two weeks. They take a break, she pulls out a notepad and they start back on Act I, Scene I, reviewing sections she had marked in green pen. What was remarkable, at least to Chase, was seeing Greg in those black tights. He stared, not quite shamelessly. He looked away when the older dancer would look his way, watched him through his blond eyelashes. He had a boyfriend, more or less. There were very good reasons not to be looking. But he couldn't help himself, he never could, because there was just something about him, about the way that he looked, the way that he moved, and it caught his breath half the time, and it always made his pulse race. Chase was a little more awkward, a little distracted when he wasn't dancing. He walked into someone during a break when he went for his water bottle.

He tried not to be obvious, but that was one thing that the young blond was not very good at. Much like how at the end of rehearsal, when Greg went off to one of the smaller studios, Chase couldn't help following. Everyone else either wasn't interested or knew better. Either was likely. Chase was terrible at knowing better. He was young, impulsive, and pretty scant on self-control. So there he was, leaning in the doorway, watching, his things still left behind in the other room. House usually wore loose pants, and the man was gorgeous. Older than most, but he made Chase have to struggle to try and not get a hard-on in the middle of rehearsal.

It didn't always work. He wanted to say something, but he didn't want to interrupt, so he just waited, watched. Quietly lingering while he stared.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

House wants to get more of those noises out of Chase, more of those soft sounds, whimpers or moans. He wants to hear how he sounds with that sensitive ass moving against his sheets, how he looks as he's stripped naked with the backdrop his bedroom and not the quick change of a studio, even if that had been intentionally slowed to get House's eyes on him.

Chase looks positively wicked as he pulls away, troublesome and playful and inviting as he curls around him, arms and legs holding on tight.

"Mm... okay..." he says as they pass right by the sofa, and he's holding Chase close, hand subtly tugging him a little bit closer, as if that were even possible. He pulls from the kiss to see where he's going, but he buries his face in his neck, lays a kiss against his skin and breathes him in. Inside the bedroom, he murmurs against his ear, "Here's the bedroom."

Then he turns around in a circle, stopping to show him the selling points, "Dresser, closet, chair, bed. Nothing special, but it's pretty comfortable..." he turns them back around and carries Chase on up to it and leans over the bed, letting go of Chase until he can't help but fall back against the bed.

There's a soft murmur of laughter, light and sweet and he buries it into the side of House's neck for a moment, smiling still when he pulls away. They pass by the sofa and Chase can't help feeling a little bit giddy. House's face presses into his neck, pressing soft kisses to sensitive skin and it pulls soft murmurs from the blond, his head tilting back. He's hardly paying attention to where they're going, but then, he's not the one walking them there.

He laughs when House turns in a circle, pointing out the various adornments. "It does look comfortable..." Chase says a little teasingly, of course talking about the bed. He squeals a little in surprise when House leans him over the bed, devolving into a wide grin when he can't help but fall back onto the mattress. He reaches up, looping arms around his neck and pulling him in.

"You should come join me," he all but purrs.

"Mmm... I think I might have to," he says when Chase refuses to fully let go, takes hold of him, arms looped around his neck. So House follows him down, crawls into the bed with him, over him, and when he passes him he drags Chase a little further into the bed, into the center, and leans down to kiss him. He's thinking about getting him naked, thinking about him in those black lace panties and how much better he'll look stripping out of them rather than pulling them on.

"The bed's got rules, you know..." he says, and he pushes away, hand pressed to the mattress as he comes up to his knees, sitting back over Chase as he peels off his t-shirt and tosses it to the floor. "No clothes in bed. C'mon," he says, leaning in again to help Chase get his own shirt off.

There's something about this that feels good, comforting, comfortable. It's not like with Brett, where once things turned sexual his heart would hammer with apprehension and his hands would shake. He trusts House, which is maybe a mistake, but it at least feels like the right mistake to make. He grins as House leans down over him, as he moves, tugs Chase up so that he's in the center of the bed.

"Oh, is that a fact? Then we're both in violation. Might be punishments for that, I hear," he teases. He easily lets House help pull his shirt off, squirming so that he can kick his shoes off so they clatter to the floor. That leaves him topless in just his jeans, and a smile, shifting a little on the bed so that he's back on his back instead of on his ass; shifting the pressure. His ass is still hot, even as he makes vague overtures at more.

Chase is a virgin, but he's also kinky. His hands reach out, greedy in how they run over House's bare skin. "Mm, I like touching you," he breathes with a smile. The kind of smile that says that he wants a whole lot of lusciously bad things.

Chase is fucking adorable - not that he's prepared to admit that to him. It's fairly obvious, anyway, with the way he's looking at him, the way he's acting with him. He's not like this, and truthfully this should be a red flag, because things are only good for so long before they turn bad, because nothing lasts. He's not thinking about that now, though, not with Chase laying beneath him, squirming to help get out of his clothes. While he's still kneeling over him, his hands fall to his waist, undoing the button and zipper and he's tugging them down his hips as he shifts beneath him.

"Do you, really?" he asks as he brings one of Chase's long legs up and tugs his jeans down, the other leg brought up with the first so he can free him of his jeans, tossing them off somewhere behind them, and he hadn't taken the liberty of stealing his underwear at the same time, because he wants to see them on him again. He wants to see him laid out on his bed in that lacy slip of black.

"I'd never have guessed..." he murmurs, hands sliding up Chase's smooth calves and thighs, brushing past his lace clad hips as he lets his legs go, and moves back over him, leaning down to steal another kiss and let Chase's hands roam as they please.

Chase's breath comes out in a strained, low hiss between his teeth as House's hands fall to his waist, undoing the button and then the zipper. He's tugging them down off of his hips, and while House has seen him naked before, seen him as he teased him as he stripped down out of his dance tights, this is still different somehow. They're close, and it's House's hands on his body, and it's deliciously hot, looking up into his eyes.

The older man lifts one of his legs, sliding his denims down, and then the other joins the first and his pants end up somewhere unknowable, that Chase can't even be bothered to think about it. House leaves his underwear on, and that makes Chase smile with a grin, his eyes glinting, because it seems to imply that House likes his lacy underthings. It's not why he wears them, but it's nice, makes him grin as he wraps his arms around House's shoulders, trying to draw him in.

"Oh, I'm sure. I'm just so subtle," Chase teases, shivering as hands slide over his long, slender legs, touching over his hips and then moving over him again. They kiss, and Chase playfully nips at his bottom lip as his hands move in to touch against his chest. Sliding over his upper arms, shoulders, coming up to slide at the sides of his neck so he can cup the other man's face in his hands for a breath. He looks into his eyes, and he smiles, before his hands are moving back down along his sides, just a slight touch of nails, experimenting with the skin under his hands.

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

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