A Dance too Far

by H L Day

  Valentin continued to stare.

  I sighed. "Fuck it! Don't. Please."

  He tilted his head to one side. "I had no intention of doing so. I'll wait for you." He smirked. "But watching you work yourself up to saying what you really feel is so entertaining." He dropped another kiss on my lips and then stood up. "I'll see you later, lyubov moya."

  I frowned. "What does that mean?"

  But he'd already gone.

  Chapter Twenty

  Two months later

  Valentin

  I leaned back against the wall, taking a long drag of the cigarette in my hand and enjoying the familiar feeling as the nicotine began to work its way through my body. I hadn't had a cigarette for two weeks, something to do with a certain someone finally getting around to offering me something far more interesting. My cock stirred at the memory of how much fun that night had been. So the cigarette in my hand was most definitely overdue and tasted all the better for it.

  Being on my own gave a rare opportunity for reflection. There had been zero contact from Dmitry, which meant his desire to keep his tastes secret was as important as I'd always suspected. I sometimes found myself wondering exactly what the relationship had been between him and the dancer. It would have been easy to dig a bit deeper, to locate him and ask, but the burning temptation was squashed by the sensible part of my brain reminding me that I'd gotten Dmitry out of my life. There was absolutely no sense in poking the sleeping lion. Some things just weren't worth it.

  I even thought about Mikhail and Igor on occasion. Were they still working for Dmitry in another capacity? Or had my absence effectively terminated their employment contracts? It was strange to think that the perpetual shadows had been the key to my salvation in the end. Well, more Mikhail than Igor, but the latter had gone along with it, so I was grateful to him too. Unanswered questions plagued me as well. Who had Mikhail's mysterious friend been? How had they gotten hold of that evidence, and why? And what was Mikhail's connection to it? Was he more than he'd seemed to be? I guessed I'd never know.

  I stared at my foot, still getting used to the sight of it without the protective boot. After six weeks, the doctor had pronounced me ready to walk without it, and I'd started physical therapy. It was still a long road back to being able to dance again, but I was beginning to feel that I'd get there eventually.

  "Valentin?"

  I smirked at the sound of my name being called, particularly given the note of complete and utter confusion in it. What did he think I was doing—playing hide and seek? I stayed silent and took another long drag of the cigarette, watching the tendrils of smoke travel into the air and disperse, and thinking that I really should learn to blow smoke rings. Max would find me eventually, especially when I'd left the back door open as a huge clue.

  "Where are you?"

  I waited, Max finally rounding the corner and appearing next to me, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. "I mean... I guess I should have known that you'd be outside"—his eyes drifted down my body, taking in the fact that all I wore was a pair of jeans—"half-naked, trying to catch your death, and smoking. I thought you'd given it up?"

  "Being half-naked or smoking?"

  He pulled his "you're an annoying little shit” face. "Smoking."

  "I did, and then I started again. And as for the half-naked bit, I am used to the climate in Russia. It is warm here."

  He moved to stand in front of me, concern written all over his face. "Why are you smoking? What's wrong? What are you stressing about?"

  I smiled, reaching out and linking my arms around his waist to pull him toward me. Despite the clear look of disgust pointedly aimed in the direction of the cigarette, he didn't protest, moving closer until we were pressed chest to chest, his shirt rasping against my bare skin. "I am not stressing, lyubov moya. Simply taking some time to reflect." He smiled at the Russian endearment, the way I'd known he would. He knew what they all meant now: lyubov moya—my love; malysh—baby; dorogoi—darling. He even, on occasion, said them back, although his Russian accent was still terrible, so I usually pretended to have no idea what he'd said.

  The last couple of months had been quite the learning curve. Neither of us was used to being part of a pair or having to take someone else's feelings into consideration before we did or said something. That fact alone had led to many rocky arguments, particularly in the first few weeks of Max getting out of the hospital. He'd not only been struggling to heal physically, but he'd thought he could hide his fear of leaving the house.

  But at the heart of it, there'd been genuine love on both sides that had only grown week by week, so we'd overcome everything. Together. And we'd found a way to navigate around those difficult parts of our relationship and make the weaknesses into strengths.

  He linked his arms around my neck, his lips hovering by my ear. "Did you do your exercises?"

  I stubbed the remainder of the cigarette out on the wall, letting it drop to the ground. It would give Max something to moan about later when he discovered the butt on his beloved lawn. "Yes, nurse Max, I did my exercises." He was referring to the home support program that the physical therapist had set up to rehabilitate my ankle. Nobody wanted my ankle to heal quicker than I did, especially when there was still a question mark hanging over whether I'd ever dance again. Or even if I did, whether it could ever be to a standard anywhere near where it had been before the injury. Max was the only person who knew how scared I was that that could be a possibility. I hadn't needed to tell him; he'd just known.

  Hands came up to cup my face, and I leaned into them as soft lips brushed against my own. Max pulled back enough that he could look into my face. "It's a shame you're not stressed, really. Because we both know what the best cure for that is."

  I slid my hands down to grasp his ass, pulling his lower body flush to mine and already feeling the stirring of a hard cock against my thigh. "Are you offering to fuck me, Max? That's very sweet and self-sacrificing of you. Tell me what you had in mind?"

  A glint appeared in his eye. "Well, I'd say we could go back to bed, but you'll accuse me of being dreadfully vanilla and unimaginative. Maybe one of us could hang from the light fitting in the living room, and the other one could..."

  His brow furrowed as he left himself with nowhere to go with that scenario. I burst out laughing and reached into his pocket to see if he had his wallet with him. He did. His eyebrow arched as I pulled it out and extracted a sachet of lube. We’d dispensed with condoms a few weeks back after getting tested. I gave him a look of challenge. "How about here?"

  "Here?" His voice came out incredibly high-pitched, and he looked as if he was about to choke.

  I almost took pity on him. Except that we were tucked far enough back that nobody could see unless one of the next-door neighbors was determined enough to open their window and hang out of it precariously. And if that were the case, well, I'd be more than happy for them to enjoy the show for their efforts. Max was so much fun to push out of his comfort zone. The longer we spent together, the fewer ways that was possible. So discovering he wasn't quite on board with the idea of outdoor sex was ramping up my arousal to such a degree that there was suddenly nothing I wanted more. I regarded him silently while I made up my mind. It was the flush on his cheeks and the fact his pupils were dilated that made the decision easy. His mind might be balking, but his body was already one hundred percent sold on the idea.

  I lowered my voice, channeling the old Valentin, the one who had to grab sexual opportunities of his choosing whenever and wherever he could—including dragging poor befuddled sound engineers into his dressing room to have his wicked way with them—and knew exactly how to get it. "You mean, you don't want to fuck me hard against this wall, Max? Like you did in the dressing room when we first met?"

  His cheeks flamed even more, his dick so hard against my thigh it might as well have been a rod of steel. Max's gaze darted to the windows of the neighboring houses. "I do, but—"

  I wriggled out of his grasp,
one hand fumbling at the fastening of my jeans as I turned my back to him. There was something to be said for ballet tights in comparison to jeans. I finally got them undone and dragged them down, along with my underwear. I pressed my chest against the cold brick of the wall, enjoying the interesting sensation of the rough brick against my nipples as I wrapped one hand around the solid length of my cock.

  I tipped my bare ass up in clear invitation, waiting for the feel of his hands on my skin. When it didn't materialize, I glanced back over my shoulder to find him staring hungrily at my ass as if he'd never seen it before. "I'm getting cold here, malysh. How about a bit of attention?"

  The struggle between lust and common sense was written all over his face. Finally, he shook his head, one hand going to the fastening on his trousers. "I wish I had more self-control when it comes to you. Reckon I ever will?"

  I smirked. "Hopefully not. I like things just the way they are." I turned back to face the wall, listening to the telltale sounds of lube being applied. I spread my legs a little and braced myself.

  Warm lips descended on my neck at the same time as hands grasped my hips, pulling me back against a very hard cock. "One day, you're probably going to get me arrested."

  There was probably some truth in that statement. "But that day is going to be one hell of a day! And I'll be right there with you."

  He laughed against my neck. "Tell me if this hurts your ankle at any point."

  Max was so sweet. Even horny and with a hard cock sliding between my ass cheeks, he was still first and foremost concerned about my ankle. "I will. Don't worry."

  Then my ankle was the last thing on my mind as Max shifted position and pushed his cock inside me, his sigh of satisfaction mixing with the strains of my panted exhalation. He knew I didn't like slow. I liked to feel the burn. I liked to reach that point where I was almost at the brink of begging him to take it out before pain finally gave way to pleasure. So he kept pushing as I bit into the back of my hand, leaving teeth marks on my skin.

  Then he was fully seated inside me, his fingers digging into the tops of my thighs as he plastered our bodies together. I turned my head to the side, seeking his lips, our mouths joining together in a passionate kiss.

  Max's lips trailed down over my neck, his hands caressing every inch of skin he could reach. "I love you, Valentin."

  I never got tired of hearing those words. Nobody since my parents had ever said the words and meant them. "Even though I talk you into doing stuff like this?"

  His breath was hot on my neck, his teeth tracing a mark he'd left there the previous night. "Especially because you talk me into doing stuff like this."

  I smiled, a feeling of warmth seeping through my body which had absolutely nothing to do with the cock up my ass. "Ya tebya lyublyu. I love you too, Max. Now for God's sake, fuck me. You are so slow."

  I got exactly what I'd asked for as he took hold of my hips and withdrew, only to slam back into me. My toes curled as he nailed my prostate, and I gasped. No one had ever told me that a great cock felt a million times better when it was attached to someone I loved, someone who loved me equally in return. Although I probably would have mocked anyone who'd dared to tell me such a thing, claiming that all I needed was the hard cock part. But I could see now that I'd always needed more. I just hadn't known it until I'd met a man capable of letting his own barriers down and breaking through mine at the same time. He'd offered me something that no one else had: a future, with him at its center.

  I arched back against Max, taking everything he had to give, our bodies finding a rhythm that we'd fine-tuned over the last few weeks while we'd learned as much as we could about each other. I knew that he loved it when I was loud; something about being able to force emotion out of me. He knew that I liked it rough, that fingermark bruises and hickeys were marks I wore with pride.

  I gave him what he wanted, groaning loudly and repeating his name over and over as his cock pegged my prostate mercilessly. He pushed me harder against the wall as he pounded into me, wrenching my head to the side, a possessive tongue tangling with my own. When I would have moved away, desperate for oxygen, he held it there that little bit longer, demanding that little bit more. And I loved it.

  I hadn't touched my cock, and already there was a tightness in my balls, warning that my orgasm wasn't far away. I tuned myself into Max, listening for the telltale hitch in his breathing, the slight jerkiness of his hips that would precede him being moments away from reaching his climax. I didn't have to wait long. His teeth fastened on my neck, his hips thrusting faster and his cock pushing deeper as he came close. I reached down, fisting my cock and unleashing my orgasm at the same time as he cried out, pulling me back against him, his twitching cock embedded to the hilt as he shuddered against me.

  "Fuck! So good." His muttered exhalation in my ear made me smile. He withdrew from my body and turned me around to face him, his eyes perusing my cum-splattered abdomen with a look of smug self-satisfaction. Then he wrapped his arms around me and leaned us both back against the wall, my face tucked into his neck. I licked at a bead of salty sweat, the resultant quiver of his skin making me want to lick him all over. Although that might not be an option when he heard what I was about to say. I picked my moment carefully, bracing myself for the predictable reaction. "Spaseebo. Thank you. I've never had sex outside before."

  Max reared back, open-mouthed. "What? But... you made me think... you... I don't... I can't... Jesus!"

  I laughed, my hand stroking his chest through the shirt he still wore. "I thought you might want to share a new experience with me."

  He laughed, his hands struggling to pull my jeans up, having apparently decided that my bare ass had been on display for long enough. "You're nothing but trouble. I should have known that from the first moment I saw you."

  I winked. "You did." I slid my hand between our bodies, finding a cock that was still half-hard, even though he'd only just come. He bit his lip as I stroked the sensitive head. "You just kept thinking with this, so you didn't care." I wrapped my fist around it and stroked harder, watching the initial discomfort slowly give way to renewed arousal. Max had amazing stamina when it came to being ready to go again in no time at all. A fact I never ceased to take full advantage of. I inclined my head toward the door. "I'm not done with you yet. Bed or light fitting? Your choice."

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  Max

  I sat there stunned as the curtain went down after the final encore, able to breathe for the first time in what felt like hours and barely aware of my mum chattering away next to me. "Oh my God! He was amazing. I know you told me he was good, but I didn't realize he was that good. I could hardly take my eyes off him. He was stunning. He was..."

  My head turned toward her as she finally ran out of superlatives. "He is amazing." And I wasn't just talking about the dancing. But on that stage, he'd been something else. He'd been truly alive for the first time in months, every perfectly poised leap filled me with a strange mixture of elation and fear. It had been a long road to get to this point. Even when Valentin had been given the go-ahead to start dancing again—his ankle sufficiently rehabilitated—he'd found it difficult.

  Valentin being Valentin, had struggled with the realization that, of course, he was going to be rusty, that it was going to take time for him to reach the dizzy heights that he'd been operating at before. Given our close proximity, it hadn't come as too much of a surprise that Valentin had taken it out on me. I knew it hadn't been personal. Dancing was Valentin's whole world. He'd made sacrifices in order to be able to carry on doing it that other people wouldn't even consider, like spending ten years under Dmitry's control. And then, of course, there was the fact that I had to expect things like that when your boyfriend was a highly strung diva.

  I'd simply gritted my teeth, bitten my tongue, and concentrated on being a supportive boyfriend. Work had proved my salvation, Valentin always seeming to gain a little more perspective when we were separated for a few
hours.

  Next had come the struggle for Valentin to find a show willing to give him a chance. Dmitry might not have blacklisted him, but their names were very much still entwined. It didn't matter how many times Valentin assured them that he no longer held any association with the man, still he was met with the same wall of reticence. It seemed that if Dmitry wasn't bankrolling the show, then the threat of the man's reputation was enough to put anyone off.

  Then this show had come along, and for whatever reason—possibly naivety on the part of the theater manager—Valentin had been given an audition. As soon as they'd seen him dance, there was no question of them not hiring him. They'd all but begged him to star in it, Valentin joking that if he wasn't so desperate to get his foot in the door, he could have held out for more money.

  Tonight's show had been the opening night. Valentin had received a standing ovation, and I couldn't have been any prouder.

  My mum squeezed my arm. "Awww... you're emotional. You two are so sweet together. You should go and see him in his dressing room."

  I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling that it could all be a dream. "I'm not going to leave you on your own."

  She tutted. "I'll be fine. I'll have a drink at the bar, and then you can come and collect me from there before we go to the party. Go and see your lovely boyfriend and tell him how wonderful he was."

  I stood up. "I suspect he already knows that. In fact, it'll probably be him telling me rather than the other way around."

  I'd visited Valentin a couple of times during rehearsals, so I knew where his dressing room was. I wasn't sure whether I'd find him alone or surrounded by throngs of people. If it was the latter, well, I'd congratulate him and then back off and let him have his well-deserved moment of glory. The door was closed, so I knocked, thinking back fondly to another time when I'd waited for the enigma that was Valentin Bychkov to open the door. On that occasion, he'd been all clipped words, insults, and naked skin that I hadn't been able to resist.