Dancer AU

[velveteenwolf]

It was a late call for practice; not until mid-afternoon. Peter and a couple of the other boys had shown up a few hours early to put in some work on one sequence they'd been having trouble with the rhythm of, but, they hadn't actually made it out of the dressing room. It wouldn't be a problem, except that Draco, the blond, had actually mentioned it to Roman. It had been casual, nothing for certain, but it was enough to potentially prompt the Godfrey heir-apparent to come looking when the studio remained empty. Peter was oblivious, at least for the moment, caught up in it as the darker haired boy, Harry, fucked into him. Peter was bent over a table, Draco's hands tight in his long hair as he rocked into the Rise's mouth with lewd, wet noises.

Peter was sort of, well, like that. He liked sex, and was defiantly unashamed of the fact. He'd fuck any of the boys in the show, as long as you understood that the closest he got a relationship with mutual pleasure, working relationship, friends-with-benefits sort of thing. He'd fuck any of them, well, as long as you weren't Roman Godfrey, his co-star.

Roman had something of a reputation for it, to be fair. He'd fuck his co-stars once or twice, and then start fucking other people when they bored him, and by the end of one run of a show, they were out of the company. With his mother running the organization after the suspicious-but-unprovable suicide of her husband, it was no surprise, really. It made it a cursed promotion; none of the other dancers currently part of the troupe wanted it.

Of course, the fact that Peter refused him just seemed to make Roman more intent. Flirtatious looks, lewd comments, stray touches -- there had been attraction since they first looked into each other's eyes. It was about to get a whole lot worse, though. A fact that Peter realized as he looked up to the door on a whim, and his blue eyes locked with Roman's greens. He couldn't look away. And if Roman had been looking for any time at all, it was impossible to miss how he started rocking his ass back onto Harry's cock, or how he seemed to get even more enthralled as he sucked at Draco's dick. Leaning up, letting him sink in deeper between his lips so that it all disappeared down his throat.

Putting on a show. And given that his eyes never wandered, it was impossible to miss just who it was for.

Comments

[blood_kink]

Roman had been here since early morning, still later than Olivia had arrived, more to prove a point than anything. It was to the point that no one batted an eye to see the red Jaguar parked outside at all hours, early and late.

He’d spent the morning alone in one of the private rehearsal studios, running through a scene that was particularly challenging. He spent a near obsessive amount of time practicing alone, even if for this particular sequence there was only so much he could perfect without his Rise. Without Peter.

The practice later would bring that piece into place that was Peter dancing along side him, that would enable him to get this down, let his body memorize Peter’s. There was already a chemistry between them that was electric. It happened without thought, like a reflex, like their bodies spoke in that natural language between a brain and a limb.

The problem was in the tempo, in the rhythm between them. There was a near perfect interaction, but they swung off course, too fast, too erratic, so obviously interrupted by the thick cloud of sexual tension that hung around them. Peter claimed he wasn’t interested, but Roman wasn’t satisfied with his answer, especially when his body told another story.

Practice was going to be late, but he knew that Peter and a few others were maybe meeting around eleven. It was after eleven when he’d packed up from the room he’d been in and headed down to find them in the larger practice room they’d planned to meet in, but they weren't there. He moved through the halls, annoyed that they’d made a point to meet early and inconvenienced him by not bothering to mention they weren’t actually going to show - never mind the fact that the plans had been tentative - when he heard a noise that drew his attention to the dressing room.

He paused by the open doorway, looking in, eyes growing wide at what he saw. Peter was bent over a table being fucked from both ends. That fuck Draco was the one who told him they might meet, and there he is with his cock down Peter’s throat, hands in that long dark hair like he thinks he’s got some right to it. Harry’s behind him, fucking him, and jealous though he is, he can’t pull himself away. His eyes travel over Peter’s body territorially, drinking in how he moves. He’s rocking back on Harry’s cock like he thinks it’s good enough, like he thinks this pitiful excuse for a fuck is worth bending over for. Peter was better than this.

Roman is thinking about how Peter would know, how he’d learn how much better it could be if he were in Harry’s place behind Peter, how the way they fucked would be so much better, so much more natural, easy and beautifully fluid motions, like they’d been made so that their bodies could move together.

Roman realizes all of a sudden that Peter is watching him, their eyes locked together. Peter’s swallowing that cock deep into his throat, and the show he’s putting on is a cheap one, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Roman can’t look away, because it’s a show that Peter’s putting on for him, and he can’t get enough of it even if the baseness of it has his skin crawling.