Fic:SGA: My Pulse Like A Soft Drum
Title: My Pulse Like A Soft Drum
Author: Beadattitude
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: Teen/PG-13
Beta:gnomi was quite graceful throughout my wittering and hand wringing over this and fuzzyboo gently coached me in how to write rhythm properly. I do hope I got it right.
Music written and arranged by Beadattitude.
Author's notes/Warnings: This is as close as I have ever or will ever come to song fic. It’s the first thing I’ve ever arranged, which was tricky since I don’t really read or write music. It was an awesome experience.
The accompanying song is here, via megaupload.
It really helps set the mood. There are two parts: the first part of the dance and the third part of the dance, one "verse" of each. The song features me on vocals and um, electronic instruments.
Sweet mother of pearl, this thing gave me fits, technically and musically. I do hope it works for you and that you get a little of the rhythm under your skin.
Summary: Aliens make them dance. It turns out not to be the chore that John and Rodney expected.
~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~
"…My pulse like a soft drum / Beats my approach, tells thee I come."
~Henry King
~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~
(one, two, three, four, ONE TWO THREE {rest}
one, two, three four, ONE TWO THREE {rest}
one, two, three four, ONE TWO THREE FOUR {rest, rest, rest, rest}
AND two, three, four, ONE TWO THREE…)
Thankfully, the dance started slow enough that Rodney didn’t trip over his own feet, because of course they all must dance the Harvest Dance celebrating something something and fruitful and bountiful and blah blah; at least there was no blood sacrifice or smearing each other with ash and mud. Because, yuck.
At least the cadence and the steps are easy enough that not even Sheppard could mock his dancing technique. Not that he has. ( two, three four, ONE TWO THREE FOUR {rest, rest, rest, rest}
Who made up a dance this stupid? From what Rodney could gather, it was a combination of a square dance, truth or dare, and a little spin the bottle for good measure. He and John had latched on to each other as partners for safety, after Teyla quickly clasped Ronon’s hand.
"We’re getting too old to be running for our lives over a misinterpreted kiss or not kissing someone who really expected one. We’ve had a few problems with saying yes or no,” John explained.
“Oh! Do not worry, Colonel,” Damel, the Kaisha chieftan, assured him, “I am sure that anyone you kiss tonight knows you have duties elsewhere. For us, this night, we kiss, we know that if the kiss occurs on the first figure of the dance, it is just for the night, the second for a year and the third?” He spread his hands wide. “For as long as the Ancestors allow. Everyone knows this.”
John’s expression had been very complicated, but it was gone before Rodney could figure it out. “Well, still, I’d,” he glanced at Rodney, “like to dance with Dr. McKay. If that’s okay. He’s ah, very musically inclined.”
“As you wish,” Damel replied with a bow. “We honor all couples, or whatever grouping lovers choose.” He smiled a kind of wolfish smile, and the Earth portion of Team Sheppard stood silent, momentarily gobsmacked.
“Did he mean stuff like…threesomes?” John asked in a strangled voice when Damel took his leave.
Ronon shrugged. “Or whatever. Groups will get together to raise kids and you know…enjoy each other.”
“It is only prudent given the realities of the Wraith,” Teyla said primly. “My people are much the same.”
John cleared his throat. “Really? You, ah, never mentioned that.”
Teyla sniffed. “I did not want to offend. Your culture is very…limited in this regard. And you did not ask.”
John rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not limited,” he grumbled.
Rodney snorted helplessly. John scowled at him and Rodney held his hands up. "Sorry! Reflex. Although on the whole Americans are….” He strangled the rest down as John started to look a little desperate and changed tactics. “So. Very musically inclined?” Rodney asked, incredulous. “What? Are you off your feed, Colonel? Feeling peaky? Not feeling up to seducing entire villages?”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” John scowled at everybody. He grabbed Rodney’s elbow and jerked his head for the rest to follow. “Kiss anybody you damn well please, but make sure you don’t get married for life or anything at the prom. We are going to dance and we are going to have a good time with these nice people and that’s a fucking order.”
“Oh, nice.”
“Shut up, Rodney.”
Teyla stilled John with a hand to his arm. “I do not wish to part angry, John. We may discuss this later, but please know I do not think you are limited.” She smiled slyly. “No more so than any other man.”
John snorted and the tips of his ears turned red. “Thanks, Teyla. I just. I…”
“I think you’re limited,” Ronon said, sneaking up from behind John and sweeping him into one of his bear hugs.
That surprised a laugh out of John - one of his awful, honking laughs - and he looked over at Rodney as if he wanted to smooth the whole thing over.
“Just shut up and dance, Sheppard.”
John mockingly offered his arm.
Dancers circled around several smallish bonfires set around an impressive array of drums and drummers on the packed earth in the center of the village. Teyla and Ronon joined the dancers at the fire just adjacent to his and John’s, and Teyla gave Rodney an encouraging smile as Damel formally explained the steps of the dance. There were a few kids - probably sixteen or seventeen - squirming with excitement, and Rodney figured this was their first harvest whoop-te-doo.
The first figure was easy and was called “mind to mind,” whatever that meant. He and John clasped forearms to walk, walk, walk, walk, reverse direction, walk, walk, walk, walk, reverse, walk, walk, walk, walk, turn and clasp hands, let go, turn to the next partner. Simple. Rinse and repeat three times.
Except: if the partners wanted to stay together and smooch during the third resting measure everyone stepped in and around them, tightening the circle. A couple of the kids dropped out rather quickly. Rodney was so not surprised.
John, of course, managed to make walking look sexy, turning the steps into kind of a stalk by the second round, a teasing look on his face. Rodney rolled his eyes but held John’s gaze. By the time Rodney realized he’d been staring, John had turned away and Rodney clasped arms with his next partner.
Staring. At Sheppard. And he hadn’t felt weird about it. Which - in itself - weird.
(one, two, three, four, AND REVERSE {rest}, one, two, three four, AND REVERSE {rest}, one, two, three four, CLASP HANDS {and, stare, turn, clasp} AND two, three, four, AND REVERSE …)
Rodney lost himself in the drumming and for once easy physicality. He enjoyed the precision of the beat and the movements. The resonance of the big bass drum (ONE TWO THREE {rest}) was strong enough to feel in his belly, his chest, and was echoed in the slap of hands as arm grasped arm. It felt really surprisingly good.
Okay, so maybe he was being a little musically inclined. So what?
Rodney snorted at himself; he wouldn’t be caught dead doing something like this on Earth. Pegasus had made him some sort of crunchy granola drumming circle freak. (Somehow he blamed Sheppard for this. And Teyla. And Ronon. Any minute now he was sure he would to start to ask for knives to hide in his hair and go hunt something.)
(one, two, three four, CLASP HANDS {and, stare, turn, clasp} AND two, three, four, AND REVERSE …)
Rodney swayed into the beat.
His fellow dancers whirled around him in firelight, bare legs and arms, and he caught glimpses of John as he made his way around the circle. John, more than the other dancers, seemed like a part of this night; black clothes melting into the shadows beyond the fire, sun-burnished skin flickering through the smoke - the sharp line of his jaw, his parted lips, his hand reaching to clasp and touch.
Rodney realized he kept looking for - and staring - at John.
He looked into the faces of his sometime partners, saw damp hair sticking to glowing cheeks, warm, friendly eyes, light-gilded breasts and arms and thighs, but it was John his eyes kept seeking out, checking to see when they’d be partnered again. More times than not, John was looking right back at him. A seemingly “not limited” John?
It gave him a lovely, waking up sort of shiver. John was two couples away, and Rodney did not look back, thinking that over, until John stood in front of him, dark and glowing.
John ducked his head, trying to catch Rodney’s eye and Rodney let him. John smiled an honest, enjoying-himself smile.
“Holding up okay?” he joked.
( one, two, three, four, AND REVERSE {rest}, one, two, three four, AND REVERSE {rest})
Rodney rolled his eyes. “No, Colonel, the square dancing has me positively prostrate with exertion.”
“Gonna speed up soon.”
(AND REVERSE {rest})
“Just the beat, you moron.”
“Sorry,” John stage whispered, “I’m not very musically inclined.”
(ONE TWO THREE FOUR) John’s face was in shadow. {rest rest rest rest}}
And his hands took a long time to let go of Rodney’s.
Rodney tilted his chin and offered his arm for the next figure; hand to hand. He held up his arm at a right angle, palm out for John to clasp - and John took it, hand slapping against his as the drum sounded. (one and two three and four)
It was impossible not to look at him when he was standing this close, their arms pressing together from fingertip to elbow, leaning in on one another. It took a moment for Rodney to keep his feet moving to a measured pace (step, step, step, step) while the music demanded that he move with it, pick up his feet.
The new, faster beat kept time in his chest, thudding against his ribs as John gazed at him, face slipping in and out of shadow. His chin tipped down slightly as he leaned into Rodney, his face somehow strange and young in the firelight.
(bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BOM BOM BOM {Oh})
John licked his lips, a motion Rodney only half saw as they made the turn ( BOM BOM BOM {John}) and Rodney had to look away.
(Bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BOM BOM BOM {pause}
(Bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BOM BOM BOM {gasp}
(Bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BROM BOM BOM BOMP {oh, so, screwed})
They had to dance this turn through one more “verse,” spin off to a new partner and go three rounds of three full verses before the final figure of the dance - heart to heart - and Rodney realized that minutes from now, he would put his hands on John.
Not that it would be a burden.
Suddenly, it was difficult to get through the steps. He wanted to look at John again, watch him in the firelight, and Rodney began to believe that they didn’t avoid trouble by dancing with one another at all.
(BOM BOM BOM) “Buddy?” John said, far too close. “You wanna stop? I think it’s okay if we bow out now. We’ve danced enough.”
Rodney looked over and John’s face, something tangible and right there in John’s face, and they weren’t still enough for Rodney to figure it out, so Rodney screwed up his courage and said, “I don’t want to stop,” low and firm, right into the silence when the drums rested. John threaded his fingers quickly through Rodney’s, gave them a squeeze and let go, slipping away for a dance with someone else.
That’s when Rodney realized they could have possibly stopped at the “one year” kissing point. Or just walked away. But. They were…were they? Was this...?
He rolled his eyes at himself and offered his arm to a perfectly lovely girl with absolutely beautiful breasts outlined in a tight, low bodice. Once upon a time, Rodney would have been hard-pressed to look anywhere but at those curves.
She had really nice eyes.
Rodney’s next partner was the chieftain himself. Rodney’s felt the slap of his hand all the way up his shoulder when Damel took his arm. He grinned at Rodney, teeth bright and startling in the firelight. “You dance well!" he boomed approvingly.
As their turn ended, Damel somehow managed to whisper in Rodney’s ear, “I think he will come for you soon, your Colonel.”
Rodney’s whole body flushed with the possibility. Damel spun away with another friendly slap before Rodney had to come up with a reply. Rodney glanced across the fire and John was staring openly, blatantly. Rodney moved through the next round blind to anything but John’s gaze.
(Bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BOM BOM BOM {gasp}
(Bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BOM BOM BOM {gasp}
(Bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BROM BOM BOM BOMP {oh, god, oh, John})
Rodney's feet were firm and sure on the packed earth, his mind joyful and clear, waiting, but not impatient for his next turn with John. His heart was full of the wild, drumming music and the look in John’s eyes.
Other dancers opted to kiss their way out of the next few verses. The circle tightened around the fire, movement and greater heat making bodies sweat and skin slide easily across skin.
John came to him, chin low, and slid his arm across Rodney’s chest to rest on his opposite hip. The press of his fingers against Rodney’s side was almost unbearably tender.
Above the drums, a woman’s voice rose above the relentless beat of the drums, a sensual curl of sound that hit Rodney like a drug.
Za de da dunn, ba-ya do-yah day (bom, bom bom)
Za de ba dum, ba-yah oh yeeeeeh…(bom, bom, bom)
He breathed deeply, ignoring the first verse of their dance, and stood still to wrap his arm around John, savoring the feeling of John pressed against his side from shoulder to thigh. When Rodney opened his eyes, John’s gaze was surprisingly gentle.
They moved together. The drums faded into the background, as if they had sunk into Rodney. They were as much a part of him as breathing, or moving, or the weight of John’s eyes on his skin. The woman’s voice,( Za de da dunn, ba-ya do-yah day ), still curled around him, all sliding vowels and minor notes yearning, wrapping around him like a wave of fire and want. Za de ba dum, ba-yah oh yeh…(bom, bom, bom)
Instinctively, Rodney pressed John’s hand at his hip, and John tangled their fingers together. He slipped his thumb under John’s untucked shirt, sweeping over the soft skin of his waist. John clasped his hand and twined their arms together against his chest, holding Rodney’s hand tight against his heart.
They danced, circling and circling, dipping in and out of shadow. The singer raised her pitch, winding the hot coil in Rodney’s belly tighter. (Zah ee yay oh da da zoho yaaay.)
They didn’t bother to change directions as the dance required. Their faces were very close. ( Zah-hah-o-yo, da dom da day)
John inhaled sharply and his gaze dropped to Rodney’s mouth. He bit his full lower lip, his longing crystal clear. Rodney felt it like John had touched him and stumbled. (bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, Bom Bom Bom BOM)
They stood still in the ringing absence of drums. Dancers broke around them and re-formed, casting them into the half-light beyond the bonfire. John didn’t let go.
"Rodney," he rasped, voice dropping deep.
Rodney leaned in. John’s lips, silky and searing and so pink (god), captured his own.
~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~
Author: Beadattitude
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: Teen/PG-13
Beta:gnomi was quite graceful throughout my wittering and hand wringing over this and fuzzyboo gently coached me in how to write rhythm properly. I do hope I got it right.
Music written and arranged by Beadattitude.
Author's notes/Warnings: This is as close as I have ever or will ever come to song fic. It’s the first thing I’ve ever arranged, which was tricky since I don’t really read or write music. It was an awesome experience.
The accompanying song is here, via megaupload.
It really helps set the mood. There are two parts: the first part of the dance and the third part of the dance, one "verse" of each. The song features me on vocals and um, electronic instruments.
Sweet mother of pearl, this thing gave me fits, technically and musically. I do hope it works for you and that you get a little of the rhythm under your skin.
Summary: Aliens make them dance. It turns out not to be the chore that John and Rodney expected.
~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~
"…My pulse like a soft drum / Beats my approach, tells thee I come."
~Henry King
~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~
(one, two, three, four, ONE TWO THREE {rest}
one, two, three four, ONE TWO THREE {rest}
one, two, three four, ONE TWO THREE FOUR {rest, rest, rest, rest}
AND two, three, four, ONE TWO THREE…)
Thankfully, the dance started slow enough that Rodney didn’t trip over his own feet, because of course they all must dance the Harvest Dance celebrating something something and fruitful and bountiful and blah blah; at least there was no blood sacrifice or smearing each other with ash and mud. Because, yuck.
At least the cadence and the steps are easy enough that not even Sheppard could mock his dancing technique. Not that he has. ( two, three four, ONE TWO THREE FOUR {rest, rest, rest, rest}
Who made up a dance this stupid? From what Rodney could gather, it was a combination of a square dance, truth or dare, and a little spin the bottle for good measure. He and John had latched on to each other as partners for safety, after Teyla quickly clasped Ronon’s hand.
"We’re getting too old to be running for our lives over a misinterpreted kiss or not kissing someone who really expected one. We’ve had a few problems with saying yes or no,” John explained.
“Oh! Do not worry, Colonel,” Damel, the Kaisha chieftan, assured him, “I am sure that anyone you kiss tonight knows you have duties elsewhere. For us, this night, we kiss, we know that if the kiss occurs on the first figure of the dance, it is just for the night, the second for a year and the third?” He spread his hands wide. “For as long as the Ancestors allow. Everyone knows this.”
John’s expression had been very complicated, but it was gone before Rodney could figure it out. “Well, still, I’d,” he glanced at Rodney, “like to dance with Dr. McKay. If that’s okay. He’s ah, very musically inclined.”
“As you wish,” Damel replied with a bow. “We honor all couples, or whatever grouping lovers choose.” He smiled a kind of wolfish smile, and the Earth portion of Team Sheppard stood silent, momentarily gobsmacked.
“Did he mean stuff like…threesomes?” John asked in a strangled voice when Damel took his leave.
Ronon shrugged. “Or whatever. Groups will get together to raise kids and you know…enjoy each other.”
“It is only prudent given the realities of the Wraith,” Teyla said primly. “My people are much the same.”
John cleared his throat. “Really? You, ah, never mentioned that.”
Teyla sniffed. “I did not want to offend. Your culture is very…limited in this regard. And you did not ask.”
John rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not limited,” he grumbled.
Rodney snorted helplessly. John scowled at him and Rodney held his hands up. "Sorry! Reflex. Although on the whole Americans are….” He strangled the rest down as John started to look a little desperate and changed tactics. “So. Very musically inclined?” Rodney asked, incredulous. “What? Are you off your feed, Colonel? Feeling peaky? Not feeling up to seducing entire villages?”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” John scowled at everybody. He grabbed Rodney’s elbow and jerked his head for the rest to follow. “Kiss anybody you damn well please, but make sure you don’t get married for life or anything at the prom. We are going to dance and we are going to have a good time with these nice people and that’s a fucking order.”
“Oh, nice.”
“Shut up, Rodney.”
Teyla stilled John with a hand to his arm. “I do not wish to part angry, John. We may discuss this later, but please know I do not think you are limited.” She smiled slyly. “No more so than any other man.”
John snorted and the tips of his ears turned red. “Thanks, Teyla. I just. I…”
“I think you’re limited,” Ronon said, sneaking up from behind John and sweeping him into one of his bear hugs.
That surprised a laugh out of John - one of his awful, honking laughs - and he looked over at Rodney as if he wanted to smooth the whole thing over.
“Just shut up and dance, Sheppard.”
John mockingly offered his arm.
Dancers circled around several smallish bonfires set around an impressive array of drums and drummers on the packed earth in the center of the village. Teyla and Ronon joined the dancers at the fire just adjacent to his and John’s, and Teyla gave Rodney an encouraging smile as Damel formally explained the steps of the dance. There were a few kids - probably sixteen or seventeen - squirming with excitement, and Rodney figured this was their first harvest whoop-te-doo.
The first figure was easy and was called “mind to mind,” whatever that meant. He and John clasped forearms to walk, walk, walk, walk, reverse direction, walk, walk, walk, walk, reverse, walk, walk, walk, walk, turn and clasp hands, let go, turn to the next partner. Simple. Rinse and repeat three times.
Except: if the partners wanted to stay together and smooch during the third resting measure everyone stepped in and around them, tightening the circle. A couple of the kids dropped out rather quickly. Rodney was so not surprised.
John, of course, managed to make walking look sexy, turning the steps into kind of a stalk by the second round, a teasing look on his face. Rodney rolled his eyes but held John’s gaze. By the time Rodney realized he’d been staring, John had turned away and Rodney clasped arms with his next partner.
Staring. At Sheppard. And he hadn’t felt weird about it. Which - in itself - weird.
(one, two, three, four, AND REVERSE {rest}, one, two, three four, AND REVERSE {rest}, one, two, three four, CLASP HANDS {and, stare, turn, clasp} AND two, three, four, AND REVERSE …)
Rodney lost himself in the drumming and for once easy physicality. He enjoyed the precision of the beat and the movements. The resonance of the big bass drum (ONE TWO THREE {rest}) was strong enough to feel in his belly, his chest, and was echoed in the slap of hands as arm grasped arm. It felt really surprisingly good.
Okay, so maybe he was being a little musically inclined. So what?
Rodney snorted at himself; he wouldn’t be caught dead doing something like this on Earth. Pegasus had made him some sort of crunchy granola drumming circle freak. (Somehow he blamed Sheppard for this. And Teyla. And Ronon. Any minute now he was sure he would to start to ask for knives to hide in his hair and go hunt something.)
(one, two, three four, CLASP HANDS {and, stare, turn, clasp} AND two, three, four, AND REVERSE …)
Rodney swayed into the beat.
His fellow dancers whirled around him in firelight, bare legs and arms, and he caught glimpses of John as he made his way around the circle. John, more than the other dancers, seemed like a part of this night; black clothes melting into the shadows beyond the fire, sun-burnished skin flickering through the smoke - the sharp line of his jaw, his parted lips, his hand reaching to clasp and touch.
Rodney realized he kept looking for - and staring - at John.
He looked into the faces of his sometime partners, saw damp hair sticking to glowing cheeks, warm, friendly eyes, light-gilded breasts and arms and thighs, but it was John his eyes kept seeking out, checking to see when they’d be partnered again. More times than not, John was looking right back at him. A seemingly “not limited” John?
It gave him a lovely, waking up sort of shiver. John was two couples away, and Rodney did not look back, thinking that over, until John stood in front of him, dark and glowing.
John ducked his head, trying to catch Rodney’s eye and Rodney let him. John smiled an honest, enjoying-himself smile.
“Holding up okay?” he joked.
( one, two, three, four, AND REVERSE {rest}, one, two, three four, AND REVERSE {rest})
Rodney rolled his eyes. “No, Colonel, the square dancing has me positively prostrate with exertion.”
“Gonna speed up soon.”
(AND REVERSE {rest})
“Just the beat, you moron.”
“Sorry,” John stage whispered, “I’m not very musically inclined.”
(ONE TWO THREE FOUR) John’s face was in shadow. {rest rest rest rest}}
And his hands took a long time to let go of Rodney’s.
Rodney tilted his chin and offered his arm for the next figure; hand to hand. He held up his arm at a right angle, palm out for John to clasp - and John took it, hand slapping against his as the drum sounded. (one and two three and four)
It was impossible not to look at him when he was standing this close, their arms pressing together from fingertip to elbow, leaning in on one another. It took a moment for Rodney to keep his feet moving to a measured pace (step, step, step, step) while the music demanded that he move with it, pick up his feet.
The new, faster beat kept time in his chest, thudding against his ribs as John gazed at him, face slipping in and out of shadow. His chin tipped down slightly as he leaned into Rodney, his face somehow strange and young in the firelight.
(bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BOM BOM BOM {Oh})
John licked his lips, a motion Rodney only half saw as they made the turn ( BOM BOM BOM {John}) and Rodney had to look away.
(Bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BOM BOM BOM {pause}
(Bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BOM BOM BOM {gasp}
(Bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BROM BOM BOM BOMP {oh, so, screwed})
They had to dance this turn through one more “verse,” spin off to a new partner and go three rounds of three full verses before the final figure of the dance - heart to heart - and Rodney realized that minutes from now, he would put his hands on John.
Not that it would be a burden.
Suddenly, it was difficult to get through the steps. He wanted to look at John again, watch him in the firelight, and Rodney began to believe that they didn’t avoid trouble by dancing with one another at all.
(BOM BOM BOM) “Buddy?” John said, far too close. “You wanna stop? I think it’s okay if we bow out now. We’ve danced enough.”
Rodney looked over and John’s face, something tangible and right there in John’s face, and they weren’t still enough for Rodney to figure it out, so Rodney screwed up his courage and said, “I don’t want to stop,” low and firm, right into the silence when the drums rested. John threaded his fingers quickly through Rodney’s, gave them a squeeze and let go, slipping away for a dance with someone else.
That’s when Rodney realized they could have possibly stopped at the “one year” kissing point. Or just walked away. But. They were…were they? Was this...?
He rolled his eyes at himself and offered his arm to a perfectly lovely girl with absolutely beautiful breasts outlined in a tight, low bodice. Once upon a time, Rodney would have been hard-pressed to look anywhere but at those curves.
She had really nice eyes.
Rodney’s next partner was the chieftain himself. Rodney’s felt the slap of his hand all the way up his shoulder when Damel took his arm. He grinned at Rodney, teeth bright and startling in the firelight. “You dance well!" he boomed approvingly.
As their turn ended, Damel somehow managed to whisper in Rodney’s ear, “I think he will come for you soon, your Colonel.”
Rodney’s whole body flushed with the possibility. Damel spun away with another friendly slap before Rodney had to come up with a reply. Rodney glanced across the fire and John was staring openly, blatantly. Rodney moved through the next round blind to anything but John’s gaze.
(Bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BOM BOM BOM {gasp}
(Bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BOM BOM BOM {gasp}
(Bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, BROM BOM BOM BOMP {oh, god, oh, John})
Rodney's feet were firm and sure on the packed earth, his mind joyful and clear, waiting, but not impatient for his next turn with John. His heart was full of the wild, drumming music and the look in John’s eyes.
Other dancers opted to kiss their way out of the next few verses. The circle tightened around the fire, movement and greater heat making bodies sweat and skin slide easily across skin.
John came to him, chin low, and slid his arm across Rodney’s chest to rest on his opposite hip. The press of his fingers against Rodney’s side was almost unbearably tender.
Above the drums, a woman’s voice rose above the relentless beat of the drums, a sensual curl of sound that hit Rodney like a drug.
Za de da dunn, ba-ya do-yah day (bom, bom bom)
Za de ba dum, ba-yah oh yeeeeeh…(bom, bom, bom)
He breathed deeply, ignoring the first verse of their dance, and stood still to wrap his arm around John, savoring the feeling of John pressed against his side from shoulder to thigh. When Rodney opened his eyes, John’s gaze was surprisingly gentle.
They moved together. The drums faded into the background, as if they had sunk into Rodney. They were as much a part of him as breathing, or moving, or the weight of John’s eyes on his skin. The woman’s voice,( Za de da dunn, ba-ya do-yah day ), still curled around him, all sliding vowels and minor notes yearning, wrapping around him like a wave of fire and want. Za de ba dum, ba-yah oh yeh…(bom, bom, bom)
Instinctively, Rodney pressed John’s hand at his hip, and John tangled their fingers together. He slipped his thumb under John’s untucked shirt, sweeping over the soft skin of his waist. John clasped his hand and twined their arms together against his chest, holding Rodney’s hand tight against his heart.
They danced, circling and circling, dipping in and out of shadow. The singer raised her pitch, winding the hot coil in Rodney’s belly tighter. (Zah ee yay oh da da zoho yaaay.)
They didn’t bother to change directions as the dance required. Their faces were very close. ( Zah-hah-o-yo, da dom da day)
John inhaled sharply and his gaze dropped to Rodney’s mouth. He bit his full lower lip, his longing crystal clear. Rodney felt it like John had touched him and stumbled. (bom da bom, bom da bom, bom da bom, Bom Bom Bom BOM)
They stood still in the ringing absence of drums. Dancers broke around them and re-formed, casting them into the half-light beyond the bonfire. John didn’t let go.
"Rodney," he rasped, voice dropping deep.
Rodney leaned in. John’s lips, silky and searing and so pink (god), captured his own.
~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~