Dance With Me (23 page)

He was also wondering why he was thinking so much about his mother.

Ed caught the look on his face and winced. “Sorry. I don't really live in a nice place like you. But my apartment, I can assure you, is spick-and-span.”

“Oh—no,” Laurie said quickly, blushing. “It's just—it doesn't look terribly safe, this neighborhood.”

Ed shrugged. “If you're smart and careful, it's manageable.” They were at a door now, and he fumbled with a key in the lock before pushing open the heavy metal door. “And the rent is fantastic, especially for the space.” He held the door open for Laurie, waiting, and so Laurie went in.

And his mouth fell open a little.

It was a loft space, the kind that kept getting designed in downtown Minneapolis, the kind Laurie had looked at and had decided even he couldn't afford. Except Ed's space wasn't polished and sleek and modern; Ed's loft had the look of something which still had the original industrial ambiance, not something manufactured by the developer. It was all one room; the kitchen was set off a bit by cupboards and shelving that once again had come straight from the warehouse floor. A metal table broke up the space between the food prep area, and the back of the couch made the living room, and off to the side Laurie saw what he suspected to be a bathroom door. There was a TV and some bookshelves containing about three books and a hodgepodge of everything else, and beside that there were about twenty or so plastic storage containers, neatly stacked and labeled. Beyond that there was a small dais of concrete which was screened by a large piece of burlap fabric hanging from the ceiling like a curtain, but behind that Laurie could see a bed on box springs and a frame; no rails, no headboard, and a solitary bed stand that screamed IKEA. Wandering forward beyond the wall that housed a closet by the door, Laurie saw another closet and a great, open area with more storage containers and some weight equipment.

“Sorry about the containers,” Ed said, appearing beside Laurie and looking sheepish. “My parents and I spent the day cleaning. That's all the stuff I have to get rid of, store, or sell. Or something.”

Laurie ignored him and stood in the center of the loft, turning slowly, taking it in. “Ed—this space is amazing.”

“Well, it wasn't earlier today.”

Laurie did turn to Ed, then, bemused. “Why do you keep telling me how messy your place was?”

He didn't expect to see Ed blush and duck his head, and he didn't quite catch whatever it was Ed murmured under his breath as he stared at the floor and shuffled his feet. But Laurie finally caught the subtext, and it made his heart flutter a bit.

He cleaned for me, Laurie realized.

Laurie wanted to kiss him then, and he nearly did. But he was afraid that once they started down that road, they might explode again, and now that he'd had the thrill of a spontaneous encounter in his dressing room, he wanted to do this right. At the very least, he wanted to wash the gel and hairspray from his hair and do a better job of removing the glitter from his face. He nodded toward the bathroom. “Would you mind if I—”

“Oh—shower, sure. Go right ahead. That's clean too.” He blushed again and crossed the room ahead of Laurie. “Towels are on the shelf. Soap and stuff is in the window behind the curtain. Washcloths are in the blue fabric drawer in that shelf thingy.” He held open the door and held out Laurie's bag, smiling a little awkwardly. “Take all the time you need.”

Laurie took the bag, smiled back in much the same manner, and closed himself into the bathroom.

It was the same industrial decor as the rest of the loft, but yes, it was very clean. And homey. When Laurie saw the claw-foot tub, he nearly swooned, and after a few minutes’ deliberation, he went for a bath instead of a shower. He filled the tub with hot water and soaked in it, letting the bath soothe his nerves.

Before he got out, he took the washcloth and cleaned himself well.

Everywhere.

But even just that act brought back his low-grade anxiety over where this night was headed, which depressed him. Could he not even have fun in sex anymore?

Music was playing when he finally came out of the bathroom, something vaguely familiar but that he couldn't name and, to be honest, didn't much care for. He started toward the music player, but before he got there, Ed appeared from behind the cupboards.

“Can I get you anything to eat? Something to drink?”

“Do you have wine?” Laurie asked, then wished he hadn't when Ed winced.

“Beer,” Ed suggested.

No, he didn't want beer. “Tea?”

“I have coffee,” Ed said, a little desperately.

Laurie felt like he was kicking a puppy. “Water?” he tried, unable to stop a smile.

Ed didn't smile. “Sorry,” he said and ducked back into the kitchen.

Laurie thought about going after him, then decided he had enough of a job dealing with his own nervousness; he couldn't take on Ed's as well. So he went the rest of the way over to the player. It housed an older generation iPod, and the readout declared that they were listening to “Boom Boom Pow” by the Black Eyed Peas. Well, at least it wasn't Britney Spears again.

“Here's your water,” Ed declared, appearing back from the kitchen bearing a bottle of beer in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He looked somewhat strained. “Sorry I didn't have anything else.”

“Water is fine. It's what I should have asked for anyway, after dancing, even for that little bit.” Laurie took the water and sipped at it, watching Ed. He really was nervous, which was so odd on easy, breezy Ed. It touched Laurie even as it frustrated him. Someone had to lead this dance. He was having a hard time accepting, though, that this was going to have to be him.

Then an idea struck him, and he smiled to himself before taking one last deep drink of his water before setting it down on the coffee table and heading back to his duffel, which he'd tucked neatly off to the side on the wall beside the bathroom. “Hold on,” he called to Ed. He rooted around in a side pocket, pulled out his own iPod, and crossed back to the player. He held his breath, hoping it would be compatible with his, and thank God but it was. Removing Ed's iPod and stopping the pulsing thump of the Black Eyed Peas, he replaced it with his own and started scrolling through the album art.

“Don't like BEP?” Ed asked with forced lightness.

“It's fine,” Laurie lied, “but I had something else in mind. If that's okay.” He glanced at Ed and smiled a little wickedly. “Would you care to dance, Mr. Maurer?”

Ed relaxed quite a bit then, and he put his beer down on the coffee table. “Thought you'd have had enough of that for one night.”

“But I haven't danced with you yet.” Laurie selected a song and put it on repeat, turned up the volume a bit, and crossed to Ed. “Are you up for a tango?”

He liked the way Ed's eyes darkened and went soft at once. His hands came up, opening his posture and inviting Laurie in. “Sure. But I'm still pretty clumsy.”

Laurie slid into position and smiled. “We'll take it slow.”

And they did. Ed backed them out into the middle of the room, and as the music played, Laurie walked Ed through the basics again, then drew him in a little deeper. No, it wasn't the most artful tango in the world. But no dance had ever made Laurie's heart pound and his body go soft as this one did.

“This song keeps repeating,” Ed said softly as he led Laurie into an ocho.

Laurie slithered through the step, letting his body revel in the sensuality of the dance. When he was in front of Ed again and moving back into the standard pattern, he looked him in the eye. “Do you want me to change it?”

“No.” Ed was a little breathless.

Ed started to lose his focus, and Laurie gently nudged him back into form. “Bear the balance, Ed. When you're ready, why don't you try a boleo?”

Ed nodded, focused, and they spent the next few minutes perfecting his boleo, and all the while the female singer sang that she didn't need a parachute so long as she had her lover, that she wouldn't fall out of love but would fall into him.

I want to, Laurie whispered back inside his heart. I want to fall into Ed. He closed his eyes and slid into the dance, trusting Ed to bear his balance through the sensual moves. He did. And then he did again.

And slowly, by inches, Laurie began to let go.

Eventually Laurie lost count of how many times the song had played; all he knew was Ed, all he knew was the strength of his arms, the sureness of his step, still hesitant but solid and careful. Part of him could have kept dancing forever.

But as Ed drew him back into the tango embrace, as the music filled him and the singer promised, “I won't tell anybody, won't tell anybody,” Laurie closed the distance between them, sliding not into an ocho but up against Ed's strong, beautiful chest, slid his hand back behind Ed's neck, and pulled Ed's lips down toward his own.

The kiss began in a jolt, with Ed still focused on the dance and Laurie so thrown over into his desire that he knew nothing else, but it was just a moment, a hesitation, and then Ed was with him, kissing him back. Laurie opened for him, letting him in, tasting the beer on his tongue, tasting Ed. Then, as abruptly as it started, it was over; Ed pulled back, and Laurie swooned against him, unbalanced, lost.

But Ed kept hold of Laurie and dragged him along as he headed back to the bookshelf near the sofa; there he grabbed a remote, pushed a button, and the music stopped. Silence rang in Laurie's ears a moment, and then Ed took him in his arms again, closing him tight, diving into Laurie's mouth as he eased him backward to the couch.

And the panic Laurie had worked so hard to keep at bay rose up unwanted and made him pull back and brace his hands against Ed's chest. “I'm a little rusty at this,” he whispered.

Ed's hands skimmed down Laurie's back as his lips trailed their way down Laurie's face. “We'll go slow,” he promised, then took Laurie's mouth again, and Laurie gave it to him, gave it all to him as he let himself fall slowly down.

Ed had never wanted to get anything right more in his life than making love to Laurie.

It was hard, though, because he wanted Laurie so desperately that a part of him just wanted to plow through and take him, to strip him bare and suck him and fuck him until the man couldn't move from his arms ever again. He felt possessive and hot and full of fire—but he also felt tenderness, and he was also aware that even though part of Laurie wanted that kind of claiming, he was scared of it. Ed had been trying like hell all night not to scare him off. It was weird how, now that he was having him at last, he was trying even harder. But he wanted all of Laurie. He wanted to possess him not just in body, but in that twisted, bitter mind he had. He wanted to tell him that he should dance because he really did love it, he could tell. He wanted to tell him he should talk to Vicky about doing dance at the center, he really should.

But right now his mouth was pretty fucking busy.

Ed had Laurie pressed into the leather of his couch, trapped between his knees as he bent and kissed him, so deep and crushing now he had to watch himself to make sure Laurie could still breathe. They were humping against one another, Laurie pushing up and Ed grinding down. Laurie was shuddering and making the sexiest moans Ed had ever heard in the back of his throat. He was wearing a nice, thin pair of wool trousers too, and Ed could feel his cock through them, hard and ready and, he was pretty sure, leaking. The cool, almost aristocratic Laurie was coming apart in his arms, and it was enough to make Ed lose it too.

Finally, he came far too close to losing it for real, and he had to pull back and sit on the end of the couch and think about nuns.

Laurie sat up weakly, still gasping for air. He looked at Ed with hooded but uncertain eyes. He said nothing, but Ed didn't need the words. Reaching out with a heavy, shaking hand, Ed stroked Laurie's cheek and tried for a smile.

“Just didn't want to come in my shorts, babe.” Stroking Laurie's soft, smooth cheek wasn't helping with that goal either, but he couldn't stop. “You make me so hot.”

Ed took in the play of emotions over Laurie's face: desire, lust, but fear too. The latter won, and he shut his eyes. “I'm sorry. I'm—ridiculous. But it's—”

Been so long
. Ed didn't need those words either. What he didn't get was why Laurie had been living like a monk. He opened his mouth to tell him they didn't have to do this, but the words wouldn't come out. He said instead, “Do you want to move to the bed?”

Laurie nodded, but as Ed led him around the couch and toward the curtain to his bed, he felt like a pasha leading a virgin to his tent. Normally he'd crack the joke, but he didn't think Laurie was going to appreciate that just now. He had never seen Laurie so vulnerable.

He'd never thought he would find vulnerable so arousing.

As it had been in the dance, Ed led, but this time he was really leading, without Laurie coaching him how. He drew Laurie up to the platform that housed his bed, kissed him some more, lingeringly, then undid the buttons to his shirt. While he slid Laurie out of it, Ed kissed his shoulders, his neck, the divots of his clavicle. He looked longingly at the dusky, hardened nipples, but he made himself wait for them, just kept fueling the fire until Laurie was melted again, and then and only then did Ed pause to remove his own shirt.

He repeated the same maneuver with Laurie's pants and briefs and even socks, kissing his way down his stomach and around the tops of his thighs until he was bare, and then, when he was all but dragging Ed's head to his cock, Ed stood and divested himself of his own clothes. He put Laurie's hand on his erection and swallowed the urge to say, “All for you, baby,” because he was afraid it sounded silly. But it was. God in heaven, it was all for Laurie. And oh, but he loved the way Laurie kept hold of his dick as Ed lay them down on the bed, side by side, naked bodies quivering with anticipation and desire.

“What do you want, babe?” Ed whispered as he made love to Laurie's chin. “Tell me what turns you on. Tell me what you want. Top? Bottom? If you want to fuck me, hon, you so can.”

Laurie jolted a little, but it was a good kind of jolt. He sank into Ed and laughed sadly. “Sorry. It's just all so fast. I gave you the wrong impression at the theater. I was just so pent up that I couldn't think. I should have—” He stopped talking as Ed stuck his tongue in his ear. “Oh.”