Dance- Debt Slave verse
Dance
Debt Slave verse
Part of chapter?
Warnings: none
Slowly he started, picking up the tempo with the rocking of his hips and pelvis. His body moved with the pulsing beat of the music. It was the same as for all the contestants but he took the music further into himself and shaped it to him. He writhed with his arms above his head as if tied to a hook, writhed in passion as if trying to entice a lover to come fuck him. But where before his actions had been sensuous smooth stroking movements of his hands over obvious points of erotic attention, the backs of his hands trailing over his checks down his neck to his collar bones then over his nipples down over his belly down over the outsides of his hips and thighs and back up. All smooth caresses of celebration in the glory of his body’s taut flexible muscles plainly seen under the skin and the sex it promised. Where one was a dance of the erotic, the writhing was stark demanding need. That need was broken as he tightened the muscles in his arms to stand out in power and he broke the imaginary bindings that held his hands above him to move into a tight fisted upright elbow crooked pose then fists still clenched he jerked his arms out to the sides parallel to the ground and then to the sides pointing at that ground. The movements jerking in time to the music, insolent in their message. It was a challenge more potent in it’s defiance after the demanding need from before. His open hands were raised out to the crowd seductively enticing but still with that challenge to say there are none of you who dare, who have the ability to be what I want. He let the power of his magic draw lines of light up and then back in the path that his hands had traveled before over his body then up to describe angel’s wings in the air above him before bringing them down bowing his head as he brought the dance to its end and waited for the crowds hush to break. Though not one of the contestants, the people had handed him their honor, to prove they were as good if not better then the High Born. They had chosen him as their representative. He was one of them even if he could take his place amongst the High Born. He was one of the outcasts. He was theirs.
Debt Slave verse
Part of chapter?
Warnings: none
Slowly he started, picking up the tempo with the rocking of his hips and pelvis. His body moved with the pulsing beat of the music. It was the same as for all the contestants but he took the music further into himself and shaped it to him. He writhed with his arms above his head as if tied to a hook, writhed in passion as if trying to entice a lover to come fuck him. But where before his actions had been sensuous smooth stroking movements of his hands over obvious points of erotic attention, the backs of his hands trailing over his checks down his neck to his collar bones then over his nipples down over his belly down over the outsides of his hips and thighs and back up. All smooth caresses of celebration in the glory of his body’s taut flexible muscles plainly seen under the skin and the sex it promised. Where one was a dance of the erotic, the writhing was stark demanding need. That need was broken as he tightened the muscles in his arms to stand out in power and he broke the imaginary bindings that held his hands above him to move into a tight fisted upright elbow crooked pose then fists still clenched he jerked his arms out to the sides parallel to the ground and then to the sides pointing at that ground. The movements jerking in time to the music, insolent in their message. It was a challenge more potent in it’s defiance after the demanding need from before. His open hands were raised out to the crowd seductively enticing but still with that challenge to say there are none of you who dare, who have the ability to be what I want. He let the power of his magic draw lines of light up and then back in the path that his hands had traveled before over his body then up to describe angel’s wings in the air above him before bringing them down bowing his head as he brought the dance to its end and waited for the crowds hush to break. Though not one of the contestants, the people had handed him their honor, to prove they were as good if not better then the High Born. They had chosen him as their representative. He was one of them even if he could take his place amongst the High Born. He was one of the outcasts. He was theirs.