3rd Arabesque - Oneshot
Title: 3rd Arabesque
Chapters: Oneshot
Pairings: Kyungsoo/Kai
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU, smut
Warnings: explicit content, inappropriate use of a ballet studio
Summary: Kyungsoo and Jongin attend the same ballet class. Amidst all the pirouettes and rond de jambs, Kyungsoo realizes that Jongin has a thing or two he could improve when it comes to his pliés, and the problem may or may not be able to be fixed with the help of a tutu.
a/n: i’m sorry ok kai’s turns were just ridiculously inspiring and this had to be made i don’t even ship this but…
it’s been a million and one years since I did ballet so please forgive me for all the inaccuracies.
also top!kyungsoo
Six in the morning and they were already at it, hitting the notes while the sun was rising to slow, pre-recorded piano music. One of Jongin’s friends who danced for the Royal Ballet had bragged to him over the phone that they had a live player in their practice room to really get the feel of the music, because it sounded so damn different to the recorded music, he claimed, and Jongin couldn’t help but think on it while he stretched, trying to make the time go by faster.
It was always the same routine. They started on the barres with the usual pliés and entendus, and then gradually moved on to grands battements and adages. His teacher would walk around and nit-pick at everyone, even if you were less than a hair off balance, and make sure that every move was followed through fully, not just half-assed because of the lethargic morning spirit. Jongin made sure to kick himself awake with two and a half cups of coffee every morning, which meant he had a 0.03% less chance to get picked at, but it was worth it, because if Mrs. Cho told him one more time that he didn’t stretch his toes out enough during the pliés, he was going to lose it.
“Towards the barre, go through the front all the way,” her shrill voice rang through the studio, reverberating off the walls and hitting in even harder. “Fourth position, demi-plié, and then lift your arms into the arabesque.”
Jongin took a deep breath through his nose, wiping away the sweat on his forehead. He’d gotten a cramp in his leg an hour ago, and even if it hard hurt a whole lot he hadn’t dared to tell Mrs. Cho, because then he’d get an earful about not warming up enough and being unprofessionally unprepared. What nonsense. Jongin was usually perfectly fine with the stretches he did, and though he did sit out a lot of the exercises when Mrs. Cho wasn’t watching, his body was young enough to hit the precise movements when they were really needed, such as in, you know, the actual shows.
“Alright, take five.”
He slumped down against the wall, cursing the ventilation system for deciding to go faulty at exactly the hottest time of the month. May was never kind to him. The sun that he usually loved so much was doing him no favours by burning the side of the building, and because there were no windows he felt like he was being boiled alive. He was drenched in sweat, and they were only half way through the day. He hadn’t even done a grand allegro yet, and his knees were aching like he’d been walking for years. Even if he kept seeing the physiotherapist, all the jumping was really doing him in, but he had to grit his teeth and just tape them up like everyone else.
At the end of the day, Jongin was a mess, to put it mildly. He was a wandering ocean with eyes only for the door, but he didn’t make it that far because he’d collapsed by the mirrors, desperately reaching for his water bottle that held promise of soothing him for a millisecond. Thankfully Mrs. Cho didn’t lock up on Fridays because some seniors were having a show later in the evening and they came to use the practice room in a few hours. Jongin would therefore spend an obscene amount of time trying to drag his ass out of there, crawling and rolling if he must. All the other students were already filing out one by one, their chatter dying down and Jongin’s serenity returning piece by piece.
He was just about to try and push up off the floor and head for his train when he saw two legs in front of him, tights fitted and rather sturdy, but spread apart enough for him to see the open door across the room.
“Uh…hi?” He tried, looking up at the face that was staring down at him with unwavering eyes, rather thick eyebrows framing them and even thicker lips resting right under.
“It’s not very manly to dance ballet, is it?” The guy just said, and he somehow managed to utter the words without moving a single muscle in his face.
Jongin frowned, furrowing his eyebrows in annoyance. “You dance here too,” he retorted, and got up off the floor with a dull groan. He’d had enough people questioning his manliness for dancing ballet already; he didn’t need it from someone in the circle.
“I know, I’m just saying…you don’t really look like the kind of guy who would want to dance here.”
Jongin stopped walking away to go fetch his bag and turned around, his water bottle dangling by his left arm as he seized up the guy who was talking to him one more time. He was rather short, not really the build of someone who usually danced for his school.
“What I look like has got nothing to do with it. I’m a good dancer,” Jongin said.
“You’re not bad, but I’d say your posture is a little stiff,” the guy replied, raking his eyes down Jongin’s form as if he were judging one of Jongin’s poses at that very second. Jongin felt rather uncomfortable. He was already pretty tired of the criticisms and constant eyes on him that day. It was routine for him, and he didn’t need it more than necessary.
“What are you, like, a master dancer?” Jongin snorted, having neither the patience nor the manners to reply any differently. He was going to miss his train if he didn’t kick up the speed.
“I’m in the top-rank roster,” the guy said, shrugging. “A soloist.”
Of course.
“Oh…well, what are you doing in our class?”
The guy shrugged, leaning back on the balls of his feet casually. “Thought I’d see how this year’s beginners were doing.”
Jongin grimaced, flaring up. “I’ve been dancing since I was six-“
“And you haven’t gotten very far, apparently.”
He figured he had reached the end of his patience then, and wasn’t sure whether he wanted to beat the guy up or just turn on heel and run away. It was too hot for this, too late for this. Actually, he would never be open to criticisms from anyone other than his teacher. He had way too much pride to be able to put up with that. So now was as bad a time as ever.
“Listen…” He started, but trailed off when he realized he hadn’t caught the guy’s name yet.
“Kyungsoo,” the guy supplied helpfully, grinning at Jongin now, in a rather patronizing way, he felt.
“Listen, Kyungsoo,” Jongin continued, taking slow steps over to his bag and throwing his water bottle in. Damn, where had he left his clothes? He could have sworn his spare change of clothes for the train were in there, but all he could see from where he was standing was his sweat-soaked towel. “Ballet is all about independence, alright? It’s not a team sport and I’m not here to take your shit, because if there was something wrong with my dancing, Mrs. Cho would tell me.”
Kyungsoo chuckled, a rather soft sound, before he turned towards the mirror and looked at himself, straightening up and placing his arms in front of him. “She would tell you, but she has too much of a crush on you to yell at you more than she already does.” Kyungsoo lifted his arms up and stuck out his leg, making circular motions with it in front of him.
Jongin turned around to face him slowly, suddenly forgetting about his bag and missing clothes. “You’re lying…”
Kyungsoo shook his head. “Ask anyone,” he continued, pushing himself into a quick spin while he smiled at himself in the mirror, finishing very cleanly with a bow. “You’re a lot worse than you think you are. If you want to improve your dancing, I suggest a private lesson with me. Say, right now?”
The guy still wasn’t looking at him, he was too preoccupied with staring at himself in the mirror, and Jongin felt a permanent frown cover his face. “Now, now?”
“Now, now,” Kyungsoo confirmed with a nod, before he finally looked over at him, dodgy smile still in place. Jongin wanted to stick his fingers into that mouth and force the smile upside down, that was how frustrated he was.
“Show me your demi-plié,” Kyungsoo said, pointing to the spot right in front of him and looking up at Jongin with raised eyebrows. “Grab on to the barre and give it your best shot.”
Easy, Jongin thought. He could shut this Kyungsoo guy up real fast; his pliés were fine, and his sturdy thigh muscles ensured that.
To entertain Kyungsoo’s wish, Jongin walked over the the barre by the mirror and grabbed it with a determined hand, smirking to himself. Even kids could do this move; it was the most basic of the basic moves you would ever learn in ballet. He laughed to himself and bended his knees as far as they would go while still keeping both heels planted firmly on the ground. That little caveat was the key. It meant that the depth of a demi-plié varied a little for every single dancer, but Jongin knew his depth well enough to think he’d perfected the move.
“Good,” Kyungsoo said behind him, his voice sounding a lot closer than Jongin remembered him standing, but he ignored it. “Now the grand-plié.”
“Give me a break,” Jongin sighed, slipping his sweaty hands off the barre and turning around. “Can’t you see that my leg work is great?”
“It’s really not,” Kyungsoo said, and Jongin frowned, but the guy held up a finger to silence him before he could come up with a comeback. “I have something that might help you along, though.”
“What is it?” Jongin asked, slightly curious now, even if he’d rather not admit it.
Kyungsoo just smiled at him, that half cheeky, half cute smile that didn’t rub off, and then he turned and walked to the back of the class, pulling something out of one of the lockers. As he walked back, Jongin had to rub his eyes because he wasn’t sure he was seeing right. He kept blinking furiously until Kyungsoo was about a foot away from him, holding out, right to his face, a duty pink tutu; the kind he’d seen Jessica wear when she was dancing as Columbine in The Nutcracker, and also the kind his little sister ran around in when she was having her classes.
“Put this on,” Kyungsoo said, like he was asking him to move aside so that he could pass or something. Jongin sent him the ugliest face he could muster up.
“Why in the fuck would I do that?”
“It’ll submerge you into the role more.” Kyungsoo patted the tutu down lovingly, smoothing out a few creases and fixing a few kinks. “A lot of male ballerinos tend to forget their grace and fluidity at home because they think they’re supposed to dance ballet with in a different taste than women. I’d beg to differ. Ballet is ballet, after all. You’ve left your grace behind.”
Jongin stared, stared really hard, and then stared some more. This guy couldn’t be serious, could he? Was he just doing this as a prank so that he could call his other soloist friends in and show them how he’d tricked this dumb kid who had shit rhythm and sweat a lot.
“No fucking way,” Jongin huffed, shoving the offending thing out of his face.
“Put it on and do as I say, and then I’ll give you your clothes back. You need those, right?”
Jongin froze, his eyes widening. This guy really couldn’t be serious. How old was he, eleven?
“You took my fucking clothes?” Jongin shouted, flicking his head over to his bag in disbelief, then dragging them back to the guy holding the frilly thing he didn’t want to touch with a ten inch pole.
“Just for fun,” Kyungsoo told him with a wink, but that didn’t settle Jongin in the slightest.
“Not fucking funny,” he groaned, mentally moaning to himself about how he would probably have to take a later train because he was missing his usual one. “Give them back. Now.”
“Let me indulge and then I will,” Kyungsoo said calmly, waving the tutu around.
“You know what, fine,” Jongin spat. “I’ll play your dumb little games.” He grabbed the tutu with both hands, holding it down to the ground and sticking both of his bare feet in, impatiently shimmying it upwards so that it ascended his thighs. When it was sitting snuggly against his hips, finally, he held out his hand and glared Kyungsoo down, demanding the other man’s end of the bargain be held up.
But Kyungsoo didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at Jongin in the tutu, like he was a fucking piece of art or some shit, and then he leaned over the fix it a little, pulling at parts and fitting them a bit further up Jongin’s hips. Jongin was too dumbfounded to say anything, and just stood there with his arms naturally lifting upwards, like it were his teacher fixing his tights so that he could move more smoothly. He stood there silently until he felt fingers under the hem of said tights, working them down his thighs.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jongin warned. “That wasn’t in the-“
“Just shut up,” Kyungsoo barked, and for the first time since he’d met him, his voice actually sounded sharp. “Turn around. You’ll like this.”
Jongin didn’t know what in the devil’s name made him comply (he had to get his clothes back, didn’t he? That was it, right?), but he was facing the mirror again in less than a second, gripping on the the barre for dear life while fingers peeled the cotton tights from his legs, making air hit his sensitive skin. Goosebumps rippled over him, and he clenched his fingers hard over the wood, his head bending over slightly.
“What are you doing?”
“Stay still.”
He did. For some reason. The tights were almost all the way down his legs now, and little pulls at his feet made him lift them to allow the material all the way off. So now he was standing there, in his tank top, his boxers, and a pink tutu, looking all kinds of ridiculous.
“Pretty,” Kyungsoo remarked behind him, fluffing up the tutu with one hand. Jongin turned around then, and Kyungsoo’s cute smile was now a smirk. He didn’t like it. He didn’t even know what was going on.
“So…my clothes…”
“Do the grand plié for me,” was all Kyungsoo said, watching him steadily in the mirror, like nothing had changed since he’d started talking to him.
Jongin sighed. Why he was still doing what this guy wanted, he had no idea, but he decided it couldn’t hurt. There wasn’t anybody in here anyways, and nobody would be for a good three hours or so. Nobody would ever know. Besides, he had missed one-on-one time with a teacher. Mrs. Cho was always so busy watching everyone else, that Jongin felt like he might as well leave the class and it wouldn’t make a difference.
“Do I have to guide you through it?” Kyungsoo asked, raising his right eyebrow up high. “Stand in first position, facing the barre, with your back straight. Rest your hands lightly on the barre for balance, then-“
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” Jongin sighed, bending his knees far down and allowing the heels to rise off the floor, so that he was almost squatting. He kept his hips on top of his thighs, directly over his feet, making sure not to wobble too much. Damn, maybe he really was losing his magic touch. He felt almost inexperienced with Kyungsoo’s eyes watching him like that. “How’s this?”
“That’s fine,” he heard Kyungsoo say behind him. Jongin breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god. Hopefully he didn’t have to put up with this much longer.
The relief, however, was gone when he noticed a light pressure on his behind, and he yelped loudly, wobbling in his position, though a hand around his waist kept him vertical.
“Don’t move or you’ll fall over,” was whispered in his ear, and he found that he was locked in that position, his hands gripping the barre so tight his knuckles were probably turning white. The hand that was rested firmly on his ass squeezed harder, making his eyes widen and his legs tremble.
“What are you-“
“Stop with all these questions. They’re pretty useless. Ask me good questions, and I’ll answer them.”
Jongin kept his mouth shut, pulling his elbows in slightly. He sat there in mild horror and slight suspense and excitement when he felt his boxers being pulled down over his ass, baring him for Kyungsoo’s view. His breathing picked up, rapidly, and he closed his eyes.
“H-how’s my position?” He croaked out, tensing all of his muscles when he felt the same hand find his cheek, skin against skin this time. He felt arousal stirring up front, and didn’t bother to will it away.
“That’s a good boy,” Kyungsoo cooed. “Your position is a little tense, I’d say. I’ll loosen you right up, though, don’t you worry.”
Jongin was half expecting him not to follow through, because it seemed crazy, being fucked by some guy at his very own ballet studio after classes were out, but no sooner had he thought it had a finger found its way to his most sensitive part, tracing over his hole in slow successions and making him slump forward drastically, practically howling into the empty room. The finger was pulled away for a second, only to be brought back a lot more slick and cool. Jongin could only imagine Kyungsoo had sucked on it, and now he definitely couldn’t stop the stiffening in his nether region, grabbing onto the barre above him for dear life.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbled, biting his lower lip. He’d never imagined he’d be in any situation even remotely close to this. He’d had sex before, but it had been years ago, back when he was still in high school, and he’d been nothing but a nervous wreck back then. But now…right now he wanted more. He really wanted, and he felt himself surrendering to the sensation. Kyungsoo’s fingers were definitely doing a good job, because he’d already slipped two inside him, pumping in and out leisurely, and he couldn’t feel the burn yet. There must have been some lube added into the mix, because everything felt way too slippery to be only spit, and he could hear obscene wet sounds coming from behind him as the digits moved. “Oh god.” He was even more sweaty now that he had been when he was dancing in full heat. Now it was cold sweat, a sheen of it dewed over his skin against the cooling air of the room.
His ankles were starting to ache and he was going to complain about it, but just as he opened his mouth, something large pushed up against his prepped entrance, and he had to bite back his words as he gurgled his way through the unexpected penetration, Kyungsoo’s dick taking one slick slide to sit all the way in, making Jongin’s mouth hang open limply and his head hit the mirror in front of him as he whimpered to himself.
“Ow…”
“I’ll wait for you.”
He actually did. Seated fully inside, Kyungsoo leaned in and rested his head against the back of Jongin’s neck, kissing the skin softly and shifting their position slightly while he was at it. Jongin was too preoccupied with the discomfort to pay attention to anything else, trying to come to terms with the fact that he had a dick inside him right now, right at the very place he pranced around every day for a living, wearing a lot more decent clothing.
“Christ, your…” As soon as he’d let the words slip from his mouth, Kyungsoo started moving slightly, gently at first, but practically rutting after a few slow seconds, snapping his hips forward from his position on his knees and pushing Jongin’s head into the mirror while he did so.
Jongin could hardly breathe, almost winded against the cold surface of the mirror, and still he was somehow, miraculously holding onto the barre above him. He could hardly feel his hands however, and his knees had met much of the same fate, but with a few more thrusts he felt ripples of pleasure through his body, and decided he could hold it out because shit, he felt so good.
Kyungsoo was grunting too now, keeping at his steady pace. Everything was warm and wet, except for the mirror that was icy cold, and the sensory overload was almost enough to do him in in itself. But Jongin refused to finish that early, and tried to block out Kyungsoo groaning into his ear, because that definitely wasn’t doing anything to hinder his excitement. This guy sure packed a punch, was more strength in him than the eye could see, in any case. His force was there, harsh and obvious, and there was no ‘ballet dancer’ grace in his movements either, just raw desire and brutal force.
Jongin was about to let go and just cream himself all over the mirror, because he was teetering over the edge with every punishing thrust that was given to his prostate, but he felt Kyungsoo pull out just as he was thinking it, his hole feeling oddly empty and still hungry for more. He could feel it clench at the loss, dripping something or other that hit his calf on the way down to the floor.
He turned around eventually, as much as his sore body could manage, and tried to lift his half-lidded eyes. He could see Kyungsoo lying on the floor, catching his breath. The smile was gone as he had his eyes closed, but when he saw that Jongin was eyeing him it made its appearance, quirking up at the edges.
“Ride me,” he commanded. It was short, but it got across. Jongin wouldn’t protest now that they were this far along. He fell to his knees and took a few deep breaths, running a hand through his hair for closure before he started to crawl over to the body on the ground. Kyungsoo had only zipped down his pants, the rest of him covered with his sweatpants and tank top. He climbed on top of him, steadying his hands against Kyungsoo’s shoulders and perching on his toes, flexing his calves to lift himself up and lower his gaping hole to the proud, erect cock that was sticking up in the air, waiting just for him. “That’s it. Sink down slowly.”
He skipped the slowly part just like Kyungsoo had done to him, and dropped down with a harsh slap of hips against his ass, throwing his head back at the impact. That spot inside him had been hit dead on, and he clawed at the skin on Kyungsoo’s chest to get himself to control his urge to release. He was so close already. So close. Kyungsoo had to be close too, because his eyes were closed, and he had a culmination of sweat on his upper lip that Jongin really wanted to bit at. So he did.
He let his upper body fall forward so that he could smash his lips together with the other male’s, holding himself up on his elbows as he tried to get the other to kiss him.
“Sauté, Jongin,” he heard Kyungsoo say as he pulled back after a failed attempt at getting him to open his mouth. “Sauté.”
“If I bounce, will you kiss me?” Jongin asked, no more needy than he felt, and he saw Kyungsoo nod from the floor, raising hands to settle on his hips.
“I’ll kiss you all you want.”
“Good.”
And then he was off. He used the last of his strength to lift himself up and down with his legs, even if they were sore as hell and screaming for him to stop. He stared down and Kyungsoo while he did so, his face probably concentrated in the ugliest way, but he didn’t care. His pleasure came first, and right now, there was nothing he wanted more than to ride this dick until he came long and hard, panting and spasming and the like.
“Fuck,” He moaned, finding that heavenly angle again that made him see stars. Lord, he was losing his footing, but somehow he still managed to move up and down, sinking over the throbbing dick and back up against like he was paid for it.
“Stay classy,” Kyungsoo reprimanded. Jongin wasn’t even in the mood to answer back, not when he was so close to release. He was chasing it wildly, bouncing up and down as fast as his calves could carry him on Kyungsoo’s cock, biting his lip hard and moaning shamelessly to himself. Shame be damned now.
“Kiss me,” he demanded, not forgetting what the man had promised him. He had his eyes closed, but he expected Kyungsoo to make good on his promise, and pursed his lips so that he was ready to feel the other’s against his own.
What he got instead was a rough shove on his upper body, sending him tumbling onto his back with a yelp, while Kyungsoo moved to settle in between his legs again, pulling at him so that they fit together nicely. His dick had pulled out, but he plunged back in, leaning forward while he was at it and covering Jongin’s mouth with his own, sinking a tongue in and tasting the wet inside. Jongin ignore the pain in his back as the hardwood dug into it, feeling rather powerless in this position. He had to rely on Kyungsoo to bring him over the edge now, unable to aim for the good spot himself.
When Kyungsoo pulled back from his mouth he muttered, “Come, little slut. Go on,” into Jongin’s ear, and that was all it took for him to explode between their bodies, screaming hoarsely and digging his fingernails into the other man’s back. Kyungsoo stilled inside him a few seconds later, moaning in a stifled way as he bit Jongin’s neck upon release, his deep breathing fanning over Jongin’s skin.
Jongin was a tangle of shaking limbs and sweaty skin as Kyungsoo pulled out and got off of him, laying there in the tutu and tank top that had been left on the whole time, both of which had somehow managed to attract semen. He panted into the air, his eyebrows knotted as he came down from his high slowly, his eyes rolled back in his eyelids. He heard faint sounds around him, but paid no attention to them because he was wrecked and fucked open and it felt ridiculously good.
“Bye, ballerina.”
He forced his eyes open, faced with a room that had had it’s lights turned off, and that was when realization hit him. Jongin sat up quickly, ignoring the ache he felt everywhere, and turned his head to glance around the room wildly. Kyungsoo had left already, and from the look of the spotless floor, he had taken with him any trace of Jongin’s clothes that may or may not have been lying there in a corner.
That of course meant Jongin would have to get on the train with a sweat and cum drenched half leotard and tank top, smiling at all the old ladies and men that passed him by, or rather, stopped to stare. And if he was lucky, he’d catch the teenagers heading into town too, who would probably snicker and throw things at him for fun because he was a ballet dancer and Y.O.L.O.
Jongin decided he was going to burn the tutu at the very first chance he got, and definitely, definitely, change dance school. As long as Mrs. Cho would let him. Hopefully.
Fuck.
Chapters: Oneshot
Pairings: Kyungsoo/Kai
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU, smut
Warnings: explicit content, inappropriate use of a ballet studio
Summary: Kyungsoo and Jongin attend the same ballet class. Amidst all the pirouettes and rond de jambs, Kyungsoo realizes that Jongin has a thing or two he could improve when it comes to his pliés, and the problem may or may not be able to be fixed with the help of a tutu.
a/n: i’m sorry ok kai’s turns were just ridiculously inspiring and this had to be made i don’t even ship this but…
it’s been a million and one years since I did ballet so please forgive me for all the inaccuracies.
also top!kyungsoo
Six in the morning and they were already at it, hitting the notes while the sun was rising to slow, pre-recorded piano music. One of Jongin’s friends who danced for the Royal Ballet had bragged to him over the phone that they had a live player in their practice room to really get the feel of the music, because it sounded so damn different to the recorded music, he claimed, and Jongin couldn’t help but think on it while he stretched, trying to make the time go by faster.
It was always the same routine. They started on the barres with the usual pliés and entendus, and then gradually moved on to grands battements and adages. His teacher would walk around and nit-pick at everyone, even if you were less than a hair off balance, and make sure that every move was followed through fully, not just half-assed because of the lethargic morning spirit. Jongin made sure to kick himself awake with two and a half cups of coffee every morning, which meant he had a 0.03% less chance to get picked at, but it was worth it, because if Mrs. Cho told him one more time that he didn’t stretch his toes out enough during the pliés, he was going to lose it.
“Towards the barre, go through the front all the way,” her shrill voice rang through the studio, reverberating off the walls and hitting in even harder. “Fourth position, demi-plié, and then lift your arms into the arabesque.”
Jongin took a deep breath through his nose, wiping away the sweat on his forehead. He’d gotten a cramp in his leg an hour ago, and even if it hard hurt a whole lot he hadn’t dared to tell Mrs. Cho, because then he’d get an earful about not warming up enough and being unprofessionally unprepared. What nonsense. Jongin was usually perfectly fine with the stretches he did, and though he did sit out a lot of the exercises when Mrs. Cho wasn’t watching, his body was young enough to hit the precise movements when they were really needed, such as in, you know, the actual shows.
“Alright, take five.”
He slumped down against the wall, cursing the ventilation system for deciding to go faulty at exactly the hottest time of the month. May was never kind to him. The sun that he usually loved so much was doing him no favours by burning the side of the building, and because there were no windows he felt like he was being boiled alive. He was drenched in sweat, and they were only half way through the day. He hadn’t even done a grand allegro yet, and his knees were aching like he’d been walking for years. Even if he kept seeing the physiotherapist, all the jumping was really doing him in, but he had to grit his teeth and just tape them up like everyone else.
At the end of the day, Jongin was a mess, to put it mildly. He was a wandering ocean with eyes only for the door, but he didn’t make it that far because he’d collapsed by the mirrors, desperately reaching for his water bottle that held promise of soothing him for a millisecond. Thankfully Mrs. Cho didn’t lock up on Fridays because some seniors were having a show later in the evening and they came to use the practice room in a few hours. Jongin would therefore spend an obscene amount of time trying to drag his ass out of there, crawling and rolling if he must. All the other students were already filing out one by one, their chatter dying down and Jongin’s serenity returning piece by piece.
He was just about to try and push up off the floor and head for his train when he saw two legs in front of him, tights fitted and rather sturdy, but spread apart enough for him to see the open door across the room.
“Uh…hi?” He tried, looking up at the face that was staring down at him with unwavering eyes, rather thick eyebrows framing them and even thicker lips resting right under.
“It’s not very manly to dance ballet, is it?” The guy just said, and he somehow managed to utter the words without moving a single muscle in his face.
Jongin frowned, furrowing his eyebrows in annoyance. “You dance here too,” he retorted, and got up off the floor with a dull groan. He’d had enough people questioning his manliness for dancing ballet already; he didn’t need it from someone in the circle.
“I know, I’m just saying…you don’t really look like the kind of guy who would want to dance here.”
Jongin stopped walking away to go fetch his bag and turned around, his water bottle dangling by his left arm as he seized up the guy who was talking to him one more time. He was rather short, not really the build of someone who usually danced for his school.
“What I look like has got nothing to do with it. I’m a good dancer,” Jongin said.
“You’re not bad, but I’d say your posture is a little stiff,” the guy replied, raking his eyes down Jongin’s form as if he were judging one of Jongin’s poses at that very second. Jongin felt rather uncomfortable. He was already pretty tired of the criticisms and constant eyes on him that day. It was routine for him, and he didn’t need it more than necessary.
“What are you, like, a master dancer?” Jongin snorted, having neither the patience nor the manners to reply any differently. He was going to miss his train if he didn’t kick up the speed.
“I’m in the top-rank roster,” the guy said, shrugging. “A soloist.”
Of course.
“Oh…well, what are you doing in our class?”
The guy shrugged, leaning back on the balls of his feet casually. “Thought I’d see how this year’s beginners were doing.”
Jongin grimaced, flaring up. “I’ve been dancing since I was six-“
“And you haven’t gotten very far, apparently.”
He figured he had reached the end of his patience then, and wasn’t sure whether he wanted to beat the guy up or just turn on heel and run away. It was too hot for this, too late for this. Actually, he would never be open to criticisms from anyone other than his teacher. He had way too much pride to be able to put up with that. So now was as bad a time as ever.
“Listen…” He started, but trailed off when he realized he hadn’t caught the guy’s name yet.
“Kyungsoo,” the guy supplied helpfully, grinning at Jongin now, in a rather patronizing way, he felt.
“Listen, Kyungsoo,” Jongin continued, taking slow steps over to his bag and throwing his water bottle in. Damn, where had he left his clothes? He could have sworn his spare change of clothes for the train were in there, but all he could see from where he was standing was his sweat-soaked towel. “Ballet is all about independence, alright? It’s not a team sport and I’m not here to take your shit, because if there was something wrong with my dancing, Mrs. Cho would tell me.”
Kyungsoo chuckled, a rather soft sound, before he turned towards the mirror and looked at himself, straightening up and placing his arms in front of him. “She would tell you, but she has too much of a crush on you to yell at you more than she already does.” Kyungsoo lifted his arms up and stuck out his leg, making circular motions with it in front of him.
Jongin turned around to face him slowly, suddenly forgetting about his bag and missing clothes. “You’re lying…”
Kyungsoo shook his head. “Ask anyone,” he continued, pushing himself into a quick spin while he smiled at himself in the mirror, finishing very cleanly with a bow. “You’re a lot worse than you think you are. If you want to improve your dancing, I suggest a private lesson with me. Say, right now?”
The guy still wasn’t looking at him, he was too preoccupied with staring at himself in the mirror, and Jongin felt a permanent frown cover his face. “Now, now?”
“Now, now,” Kyungsoo confirmed with a nod, before he finally looked over at him, dodgy smile still in place. Jongin wanted to stick his fingers into that mouth and force the smile upside down, that was how frustrated he was.
“Show me your demi-plié,” Kyungsoo said, pointing to the spot right in front of him and looking up at Jongin with raised eyebrows. “Grab on to the barre and give it your best shot.”
Easy, Jongin thought. He could shut this Kyungsoo guy up real fast; his pliés were fine, and his sturdy thigh muscles ensured that.
To entertain Kyungsoo’s wish, Jongin walked over the the barre by the mirror and grabbed it with a determined hand, smirking to himself. Even kids could do this move; it was the most basic of the basic moves you would ever learn in ballet. He laughed to himself and bended his knees as far as they would go while still keeping both heels planted firmly on the ground. That little caveat was the key. It meant that the depth of a demi-plié varied a little for every single dancer, but Jongin knew his depth well enough to think he’d perfected the move.
“Good,” Kyungsoo said behind him, his voice sounding a lot closer than Jongin remembered him standing, but he ignored it. “Now the grand-plié.”
“Give me a break,” Jongin sighed, slipping his sweaty hands off the barre and turning around. “Can’t you see that my leg work is great?”
“It’s really not,” Kyungsoo said, and Jongin frowned, but the guy held up a finger to silence him before he could come up with a comeback. “I have something that might help you along, though.”
“What is it?” Jongin asked, slightly curious now, even if he’d rather not admit it.
Kyungsoo just smiled at him, that half cheeky, half cute smile that didn’t rub off, and then he turned and walked to the back of the class, pulling something out of one of the lockers. As he walked back, Jongin had to rub his eyes because he wasn’t sure he was seeing right. He kept blinking furiously until Kyungsoo was about a foot away from him, holding out, right to his face, a duty pink tutu; the kind he’d seen Jessica wear when she was dancing as Columbine in The Nutcracker, and also the kind his little sister ran around in when she was having her classes.
“Put this on,” Kyungsoo said, like he was asking him to move aside so that he could pass or something. Jongin sent him the ugliest face he could muster up.
“Why in the fuck would I do that?”
“It’ll submerge you into the role more.” Kyungsoo patted the tutu down lovingly, smoothing out a few creases and fixing a few kinks. “A lot of male ballerinos tend to forget their grace and fluidity at home because they think they’re supposed to dance ballet with in a different taste than women. I’d beg to differ. Ballet is ballet, after all. You’ve left your grace behind.”
Jongin stared, stared really hard, and then stared some more. This guy couldn’t be serious, could he? Was he just doing this as a prank so that he could call his other soloist friends in and show them how he’d tricked this dumb kid who had shit rhythm and sweat a lot.
“No fucking way,” Jongin huffed, shoving the offending thing out of his face.
“Put it on and do as I say, and then I’ll give you your clothes back. You need those, right?”
Jongin froze, his eyes widening. This guy really couldn’t be serious. How old was he, eleven?
“You took my fucking clothes?” Jongin shouted, flicking his head over to his bag in disbelief, then dragging them back to the guy holding the frilly thing he didn’t want to touch with a ten inch pole.
“Just for fun,” Kyungsoo told him with a wink, but that didn’t settle Jongin in the slightest.
“Not fucking funny,” he groaned, mentally moaning to himself about how he would probably have to take a later train because he was missing his usual one. “Give them back. Now.”
“Let me indulge and then I will,” Kyungsoo said calmly, waving the tutu around.
“You know what, fine,” Jongin spat. “I’ll play your dumb little games.” He grabbed the tutu with both hands, holding it down to the ground and sticking both of his bare feet in, impatiently shimmying it upwards so that it ascended his thighs. When it was sitting snuggly against his hips, finally, he held out his hand and glared Kyungsoo down, demanding the other man’s end of the bargain be held up.
But Kyungsoo didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at Jongin in the tutu, like he was a fucking piece of art or some shit, and then he leaned over the fix it a little, pulling at parts and fitting them a bit further up Jongin’s hips. Jongin was too dumbfounded to say anything, and just stood there with his arms naturally lifting upwards, like it were his teacher fixing his tights so that he could move more smoothly. He stood there silently until he felt fingers under the hem of said tights, working them down his thighs.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jongin warned. “That wasn’t in the-“
“Just shut up,” Kyungsoo barked, and for the first time since he’d met him, his voice actually sounded sharp. “Turn around. You’ll like this.”
Jongin didn’t know what in the devil’s name made him comply (he had to get his clothes back, didn’t he? That was it, right?), but he was facing the mirror again in less than a second, gripping on the the barre for dear life while fingers peeled the cotton tights from his legs, making air hit his sensitive skin. Goosebumps rippled over him, and he clenched his fingers hard over the wood, his head bending over slightly.
“What are you doing?”
“Stay still.”
He did. For some reason. The tights were almost all the way down his legs now, and little pulls at his feet made him lift them to allow the material all the way off. So now he was standing there, in his tank top, his boxers, and a pink tutu, looking all kinds of ridiculous.
“Pretty,” Kyungsoo remarked behind him, fluffing up the tutu with one hand. Jongin turned around then, and Kyungsoo’s cute smile was now a smirk. He didn’t like it. He didn’t even know what was going on.
“So…my clothes…”
“Do the grand plié for me,” was all Kyungsoo said, watching him steadily in the mirror, like nothing had changed since he’d started talking to him.
Jongin sighed. Why he was still doing what this guy wanted, he had no idea, but he decided it couldn’t hurt. There wasn’t anybody in here anyways, and nobody would be for a good three hours or so. Nobody would ever know. Besides, he had missed one-on-one time with a teacher. Mrs. Cho was always so busy watching everyone else, that Jongin felt like he might as well leave the class and it wouldn’t make a difference.
“Do I have to guide you through it?” Kyungsoo asked, raising his right eyebrow up high. “Stand in first position, facing the barre, with your back straight. Rest your hands lightly on the barre for balance, then-“
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” Jongin sighed, bending his knees far down and allowing the heels to rise off the floor, so that he was almost squatting. He kept his hips on top of his thighs, directly over his feet, making sure not to wobble too much. Damn, maybe he really was losing his magic touch. He felt almost inexperienced with Kyungsoo’s eyes watching him like that. “How’s this?”
“That’s fine,” he heard Kyungsoo say behind him. Jongin breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god. Hopefully he didn’t have to put up with this much longer.
The relief, however, was gone when he noticed a light pressure on his behind, and he yelped loudly, wobbling in his position, though a hand around his waist kept him vertical.
“Don’t move or you’ll fall over,” was whispered in his ear, and he found that he was locked in that position, his hands gripping the barre so tight his knuckles were probably turning white. The hand that was rested firmly on his ass squeezed harder, making his eyes widen and his legs tremble.
“What are you-“
“Stop with all these questions. They’re pretty useless. Ask me good questions, and I’ll answer them.”
Jongin kept his mouth shut, pulling his elbows in slightly. He sat there in mild horror and slight suspense and excitement when he felt his boxers being pulled down over his ass, baring him for Kyungsoo’s view. His breathing picked up, rapidly, and he closed his eyes.
“H-how’s my position?” He croaked out, tensing all of his muscles when he felt the same hand find his cheek, skin against skin this time. He felt arousal stirring up front, and didn’t bother to will it away.
“That’s a good boy,” Kyungsoo cooed. “Your position is a little tense, I’d say. I’ll loosen you right up, though, don’t you worry.”
Jongin was half expecting him not to follow through, because it seemed crazy, being fucked by some guy at his very own ballet studio after classes were out, but no sooner had he thought it had a finger found its way to his most sensitive part, tracing over his hole in slow successions and making him slump forward drastically, practically howling into the empty room. The finger was pulled away for a second, only to be brought back a lot more slick and cool. Jongin could only imagine Kyungsoo had sucked on it, and now he definitely couldn’t stop the stiffening in his nether region, grabbing onto the barre above him for dear life.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbled, biting his lower lip. He’d never imagined he’d be in any situation even remotely close to this. He’d had sex before, but it had been years ago, back when he was still in high school, and he’d been nothing but a nervous wreck back then. But now…right now he wanted more. He really wanted, and he felt himself surrendering to the sensation. Kyungsoo’s fingers were definitely doing a good job, because he’d already slipped two inside him, pumping in and out leisurely, and he couldn’t feel the burn yet. There must have been some lube added into the mix, because everything felt way too slippery to be only spit, and he could hear obscene wet sounds coming from behind him as the digits moved. “Oh god.” He was even more sweaty now that he had been when he was dancing in full heat. Now it was cold sweat, a sheen of it dewed over his skin against the cooling air of the room.
His ankles were starting to ache and he was going to complain about it, but just as he opened his mouth, something large pushed up against his prepped entrance, and he had to bite back his words as he gurgled his way through the unexpected penetration, Kyungsoo’s dick taking one slick slide to sit all the way in, making Jongin’s mouth hang open limply and his head hit the mirror in front of him as he whimpered to himself.
“Ow…”
“I’ll wait for you.”
He actually did. Seated fully inside, Kyungsoo leaned in and rested his head against the back of Jongin’s neck, kissing the skin softly and shifting their position slightly while he was at it. Jongin was too preoccupied with the discomfort to pay attention to anything else, trying to come to terms with the fact that he had a dick inside him right now, right at the very place he pranced around every day for a living, wearing a lot more decent clothing.
“Christ, your…” As soon as he’d let the words slip from his mouth, Kyungsoo started moving slightly, gently at first, but practically rutting after a few slow seconds, snapping his hips forward from his position on his knees and pushing Jongin’s head into the mirror while he did so.
Jongin could hardly breathe, almost winded against the cold surface of the mirror, and still he was somehow, miraculously holding onto the barre above him. He could hardly feel his hands however, and his knees had met much of the same fate, but with a few more thrusts he felt ripples of pleasure through his body, and decided he could hold it out because shit, he felt so good.
Kyungsoo was grunting too now, keeping at his steady pace. Everything was warm and wet, except for the mirror that was icy cold, and the sensory overload was almost enough to do him in in itself. But Jongin refused to finish that early, and tried to block out Kyungsoo groaning into his ear, because that definitely wasn’t doing anything to hinder his excitement. This guy sure packed a punch, was more strength in him than the eye could see, in any case. His force was there, harsh and obvious, and there was no ‘ballet dancer’ grace in his movements either, just raw desire and brutal force.
Jongin was about to let go and just cream himself all over the mirror, because he was teetering over the edge with every punishing thrust that was given to his prostate, but he felt Kyungsoo pull out just as he was thinking it, his hole feeling oddly empty and still hungry for more. He could feel it clench at the loss, dripping something or other that hit his calf on the way down to the floor.
He turned around eventually, as much as his sore body could manage, and tried to lift his half-lidded eyes. He could see Kyungsoo lying on the floor, catching his breath. The smile was gone as he had his eyes closed, but when he saw that Jongin was eyeing him it made its appearance, quirking up at the edges.
“Ride me,” he commanded. It was short, but it got across. Jongin wouldn’t protest now that they were this far along. He fell to his knees and took a few deep breaths, running a hand through his hair for closure before he started to crawl over to the body on the ground. Kyungsoo had only zipped down his pants, the rest of him covered with his sweatpants and tank top. He climbed on top of him, steadying his hands against Kyungsoo’s shoulders and perching on his toes, flexing his calves to lift himself up and lower his gaping hole to the proud, erect cock that was sticking up in the air, waiting just for him. “That’s it. Sink down slowly.”
He skipped the slowly part just like Kyungsoo had done to him, and dropped down with a harsh slap of hips against his ass, throwing his head back at the impact. That spot inside him had been hit dead on, and he clawed at the skin on Kyungsoo’s chest to get himself to control his urge to release. He was so close already. So close. Kyungsoo had to be close too, because his eyes were closed, and he had a culmination of sweat on his upper lip that Jongin really wanted to bit at. So he did.
He let his upper body fall forward so that he could smash his lips together with the other male’s, holding himself up on his elbows as he tried to get the other to kiss him.
“Sauté, Jongin,” he heard Kyungsoo say as he pulled back after a failed attempt at getting him to open his mouth. “Sauté.”
“If I bounce, will you kiss me?” Jongin asked, no more needy than he felt, and he saw Kyungsoo nod from the floor, raising hands to settle on his hips.
“I’ll kiss you all you want.”
“Good.”
And then he was off. He used the last of his strength to lift himself up and down with his legs, even if they were sore as hell and screaming for him to stop. He stared down and Kyungsoo while he did so, his face probably concentrated in the ugliest way, but he didn’t care. His pleasure came first, and right now, there was nothing he wanted more than to ride this dick until he came long and hard, panting and spasming and the like.
“Fuck,” He moaned, finding that heavenly angle again that made him see stars. Lord, he was losing his footing, but somehow he still managed to move up and down, sinking over the throbbing dick and back up against like he was paid for it.
“Stay classy,” Kyungsoo reprimanded. Jongin wasn’t even in the mood to answer back, not when he was so close to release. He was chasing it wildly, bouncing up and down as fast as his calves could carry him on Kyungsoo’s cock, biting his lip hard and moaning shamelessly to himself. Shame be damned now.
“Kiss me,” he demanded, not forgetting what the man had promised him. He had his eyes closed, but he expected Kyungsoo to make good on his promise, and pursed his lips so that he was ready to feel the other’s against his own.
What he got instead was a rough shove on his upper body, sending him tumbling onto his back with a yelp, while Kyungsoo moved to settle in between his legs again, pulling at him so that they fit together nicely. His dick had pulled out, but he plunged back in, leaning forward while he was at it and covering Jongin’s mouth with his own, sinking a tongue in and tasting the wet inside. Jongin ignore the pain in his back as the hardwood dug into it, feeling rather powerless in this position. He had to rely on Kyungsoo to bring him over the edge now, unable to aim for the good spot himself.
When Kyungsoo pulled back from his mouth he muttered, “Come, little slut. Go on,” into Jongin’s ear, and that was all it took for him to explode between their bodies, screaming hoarsely and digging his fingernails into the other man’s back. Kyungsoo stilled inside him a few seconds later, moaning in a stifled way as he bit Jongin’s neck upon release, his deep breathing fanning over Jongin’s skin.
Jongin was a tangle of shaking limbs and sweaty skin as Kyungsoo pulled out and got off of him, laying there in the tutu and tank top that had been left on the whole time, both of which had somehow managed to attract semen. He panted into the air, his eyebrows knotted as he came down from his high slowly, his eyes rolled back in his eyelids. He heard faint sounds around him, but paid no attention to them because he was wrecked and fucked open and it felt ridiculously good.
“Bye, ballerina.”
He forced his eyes open, faced with a room that had had it’s lights turned off, and that was when realization hit him. Jongin sat up quickly, ignoring the ache he felt everywhere, and turned his head to glance around the room wildly. Kyungsoo had left already, and from the look of the spotless floor, he had taken with him any trace of Jongin’s clothes that may or may not have been lying there in a corner.
That of course meant Jongin would have to get on the train with a sweat and cum drenched half leotard and tank top, smiling at all the old ladies and men that passed him by, or rather, stopped to stare. And if he was lucky, he’d catch the teenagers heading into town too, who would probably snicker and throw things at him for fun because he was a ballet dancer and Y.O.L.O.
Jongin decided he was going to burn the tutu at the very first chance he got, and definitely, definitely, change dance school. As long as Mrs. Cho would let him. Hopefully.
Fuck.