“Jesus, angel. These kids are maniacs. It might be easier to just burn the place down and collect the insurance money.”
“Shut up,” Bowie said with an eye roll, doing his best not to think of the cleaning to come before the school’s official classes began on Monday. That was tomorrow Bowie’s problem. Today’s Bowie was determined to give his boyfriend a proper thank you.
“You ready to go home?”
Bowie’s heart squeezed behind his ribs and his hands trembled a little, but he shook his head, threading his fingers with Javier’s and leading him into the studio at the very back before closing the door behind them.
Javier eyed him curiously. “Whatcha doin, angel?”
Bowie didn’t answer, just moved to where his lavender dance bag sat on the floor, bending down to rifle through it. Javier—never one to waste an opportunity—came up behind him, his hands gripping Bowie’s hips, pulling him back against him. “You planning on dancing for me?”
Bowie stood up, rubbing his ass against Javier’s cock with a little more enthusiasm, a tiny whine escaping when he realized Javier was already semi-hard behind his zipper. He took Javier’s hand from his hip and settled the tube he was holding into his palm.
Javier looked at it. “Lube? Angel, this is the weirdest game of charades I’ve ever played. Can you just tell me what we’re doing? ‘Cause if you want me to fuck you in your new dance studio, I’m fully on board. You know that.”
“I do know that,” Bowie finally said, not knowing why this was so hard. “And I do want you. But I want you to fuck me, in my new dance studio…from behind.”
Javier made a noise in the back of his throat, his arm coming around Bowie. “You sure, angel?” he asked, tilting Bowie’s head to kiss along his throat, his hands already snaking up under Bowie’s sweater.
“Yeah, I’m positive.” And he was. “It’s the last thing. The very last thing. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I even talked about it with Blandley.”
Javier nipped at Bowie’s earlobe, walking him closer to the mirror, to the wooden barre secured to its center, making eye contact in the glass long enough to say, “You talked about this with your therapist? I don’t know if I’m jealous or turned on, angel.”
Bowie reached behind him, rubbing Javier’s cock through his jeans. “Sure feels like turned on to me.”
“Everything about you turns me on,” Javier rumbled against his ear. “You know that.”
“I do,” Bowie said, eyes fixed on Javier in the mirror, watching as his hands moved back up under his green sweater. He moaned, eyes falling closed, as Javier’s thumbs skimmed over his nipples before sliding back down to pull his shirt off, dropping it to the floor.
When Javier went to his knees behind Bowie, he didn’t stop him, could only watch as he slid his jeans and underwear down, leaving him naked in the bright lights of the studio. Javier’s lips skimmed over his hip, lifting each leg to tug the fabric off completely, tossing it to join his sweater.
Javier was still fully dressed, but Bowie didn’t mind. If anything, it turned him on. He watched as Javier tugged his hips back, felt his hands spreading Bowie open, before burying his face between his cheeks. “Fuck,” Bowie whispered, pushing back against his probing tongue. “God, I love your fucking tongue.”
“It loves you, too,” Javier promised, spearing it against his entrance, pushing inside. As much as he loved Javier’s dedication to foreplay, Bowie’s cock was already hard and leaking onto the studio floor.
He felt stupid for being afraid of this for so long. He didn’t know why he’d put it up on such a high shelf, had made it the last hurdle he needed to jump to fully have his sex life back. It seemed stupid now. Especially when Javier stood, slick finger massaging Bowie’s hole, watching him in the mirror.
“Don’t be a tease,” Bowie murmured, gasping as Javier pushed in with two fingers.
Javier’s look was practically feral. “That what you needed, angel?”
Bowie shook his head. “No, I need you, your dick, inside me. Now. Please,” he added begrudgingly.
Javier’s fingers disappeared, his belt buckle clinking as he hurried to free himself, not bothering with undressing. Then the blunt head of his cock was pressed up against Bowie’s hole. “You sure you’re good, angel?”
Bowie smiled, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Yeah. I’m okay. I promise.”
That seemed to be all the encouragement Javier needed. Bowie moaned as his cock slid home. Javier didn’t move though, his forehead resting between Bowie’s shoulder blades as he breathed heavily.
“What’s wrong?” Bowie asked, confused.
Javier gave a strained laugh. “Wrong? Do you know how fucking hot you look right now, standing naked in front of this mirror? How good you feel inside? You’re so hot and tight. I’m just trying to make this last longer than thirty seconds.”
Bowie fisted his own erection. “I’m not going to last thirty seconds either,” he promised. “I’ve been edging myself all day by thinking about you and me and this mirror. It feels so much better than I ever imagined.No seas tan dulce. Cógeme duro, nene,” Bowie prompted in Spanish.
“Jesus, angel,” Javier muttered, his hips grinding against Bowie seemingly against his will. “Did you learn Spanish just so you could ask me to fuck you hard?”
“Yes. Yes, I did,” Bowie panted, reaching behind him to drag Javier down for a dirty kiss. “Please, baby. I need it. I need you.”
