Best ballet practice EVER (Part 2)
anonymous
July 28 2010, 06:18:29 UTC
I hate the character limit...
When the dance was over, China’s mouth hurt from keeping it open so long; Russia walked over to him, seemingly floating on air, and smiled childishly at the smaller man. “What do you think, Yao?” he said happily, waiting for a reply. Instead of giving one, his widened golden brown eyes roved the body in front of him. Russia decided to wear a gray leotard instead of a t-shirt and it pressed snugly against his skin, defining his abdominal muscles and biceps. The black tights gave an enticing view of his strong legs and that bulge snuggled into his crotch, smoothened over by the dancing belt, was protruding in a nearly indecent fashion. China’s eyes landed on the bulge for a few seconds before moving to his neck, where a single sweat drop traveled languidly down his collar bones into the neck of the leotard. China’s mouth went dry. Heat rushed to his face and his whole body nearly quivered in desperate need as he stared at the large man before him. He swallowed at few times, blinking to get Russia’s image out his mind before squeaking, “A-amazing, aru….”
Smiling, Russia grabbed China by his arm and towed him over to the wooden bar in the middle of the room, grasping his hand and placing it on the bar. Any place that Russia touched on the smaller man’s body seemed to bloom in fever. “First, we’ll begin with stretches,” Russia announced in a cheerful, teacher-like tone. After the plies, in which China only half listened since he was too busy gawking at Russia’s ass cradled in the black cloth, Russia glided over and grabbed his leg, lifting it into position and carefully instructing China.
Now, China stood awkwardly on the wooden floor, unable to concentrate on anything the Russian was saying to him. He stared at him in awe, unable to hold back anymore.
“…and so the Vaganova meth--- ”
“Ivan, aru, can we go home?” China asked abruptly, looking down at the floor, blushing a violent shade of red, and panting out slightly. Russia raised an eyebrow and looked down at the distressed Chinese man.
“Is there something wrong? We were only here for thirty minutes,” Russia inquired curiously, raising an eyebrow in question. He was surprised when China asked him to teach him a bit of Russian ballet to get a taste of his culture, but was happy to oblige, ecstatic that the older man showed interest like that in him. He quickly prepared black tights and a dancing belt in his size, planned the lessons speedily, and began to teach him with great enthusiasm. The larger man enjoyed instructing his lover, to feel his unsure limbs beneath his hands, that he hadn’t taken notice of how fidgety and red the ebony haired man had become.
Suddenly, China stepped towards him and wrapped his arms around the Russian’s strong and muscular waist, burying his head in his pectoral. After breathing in the musky and arousing scent of his lover, China looked up, his cheeks enflamed in crimson, golden eyes dazed with desperate yearning, and lips parted as hot, moist breaths escaped; he no longer care for his dignity. “I need you,” he begged with lust painting his voice. “Now, aru.”
Russia’s violet eyes widened, immediately hardening at his lover’s face and voice. Grabbing China’s arm, he quickly made his way to the door. “Let’s go, da?”
When the dance was over, China’s mouth hurt from keeping it open so long; Russia walked over to him, seemingly floating on air, and smiled childishly at the smaller man. “What do you think, Yao?” he said happily, waiting for a reply. Instead of giving one, his widened golden brown eyes roved the body in front of him. Russia decided to wear a gray leotard instead of a t-shirt and it pressed snugly against his skin, defining his abdominal muscles and biceps. The black tights gave an enticing view of his strong legs and that bulge snuggled into his crotch, smoothened over by the dancing belt, was protruding in a nearly indecent fashion. China’s eyes landed on the bulge for a few seconds before moving to his neck, where a single sweat drop traveled languidly down his collar bones into the neck of the leotard. China’s mouth went dry. Heat rushed to his face and his whole body nearly quivered in desperate need as he stared at the large man before him. He swallowed at few times, blinking to get Russia’s image out his mind before squeaking, “A-amazing, aru….”
Smiling, Russia grabbed China by his arm and towed him over to the wooden bar in the middle of the room, grasping his hand and placing it on the bar. Any place that Russia touched on the smaller man’s body seemed to bloom in fever. “First, we’ll begin with stretches,” Russia announced in a cheerful, teacher-like tone. After the plies, in which China only half listened since he was too busy gawking at Russia’s ass cradled in the black cloth, Russia glided over and grabbed his leg, lifting it into position and carefully instructing China.
Now, China stood awkwardly on the wooden floor, unable to concentrate on anything the Russian was saying to him. He stared at him in awe, unable to hold back anymore.
“…and so the Vaganova meth--- ”
“Ivan, aru, can we go home?” China asked abruptly, looking down at the floor, blushing a violent shade of red, and panting out slightly. Russia raised an eyebrow and looked down at the distressed Chinese man.
“Is there something wrong? We were only here for thirty minutes,” Russia inquired curiously, raising an eyebrow in question. He was surprised when China asked him to teach him a bit of Russian ballet to get a taste of his culture, but was happy to oblige, ecstatic that the older man showed interest like that in him. He quickly prepared black tights and a dancing belt in his size, planned the lessons speedily, and began to teach him with great enthusiasm. The larger man enjoyed instructing his lover, to feel his unsure limbs beneath his hands, that he hadn’t taken notice of how fidgety and red the ebony haired man had become.
Suddenly, China stepped towards him and wrapped his arms around the Russian’s strong and muscular waist, burying his head in his pectoral. After breathing in the musky and arousing scent of his lover, China looked up, his cheeks enflamed in crimson, golden eyes dazed with desperate yearning, and lips parted as hot, moist breaths escaped; he no longer care for his dignity. “I need you,” he begged with lust painting his voice. “Now, aru.”
Russia’s violet eyes widened, immediately hardening at his lover’s face and voice. Grabbing China’s arm, he quickly made his way to the door. “Let’s go, da?”
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