Dance With Me (38 page)

“But what about the COBRA?” Laurie asked. “With me sharing living expenses, and money from the grant—”

“It won't last forever. And if they don't repeal health-care legislation, eventually here I can get on a high-risk pool, but it won't be great insurance, and it will be expensive.”

Laurie hesitated a moment, then rushed on. “We could register as partners too. Domestic partners. For the benefits,” he said quickly, when Ed paled. “You could use my health insurance if we were domestic partners. I already checked.”

Ed shook his head. “No.”

“But—” Laurie began, but Ed just shook his head again, looking stern.

“I'll help you for now,” he said, “but I have to keep looking for a job.” He forced a smile. “Anyway. There's something I need to ask you too.”

“Oh?” Laurie tried to hide his disappointment at Ed's rejection, telling himself he'd try again later.

Ed cleared his throat and reached across the table to wipe away a bit of sauce from the corner of Laurie's mouth, making Laurie shiver slightly. “I want you to dance with me at Vicky's show.”

Now it was Laurie's turn to blink and go rigid. “Ed—no. I'm sorry, but—no.”

“Just something simple. Something I won't screw up.” Ed grinned lopsidedly. “I know I suck compared to you and that I'm an embarrassment, but—”

“No,” Laurie said quickly, softening again. “No. Ed, it's not you. You're not"—he reached across the table and took Ed's hand, fighting him for it when Ed tried to keep away—"You're not an embarrassment. And you don't suck. It's not you.”

“Then why?”

Laurie drew his hands back, shuttering again. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure,” Ed said, picking up his fork again.

But the rest of the meal was awkward, and the next few days were even worse. Laurie didn't bring up living together or Ed working for him or the center, and Ed didn't bring up the show. But the argument hung like an iron curtain between them, even when they made love. Laurie was frustrated and angry, and he knew Ed was too. And then one night it all came to a head.

One night they came back to the apartment together after a long night at the studio, but they were hardly speaking to one another. Once they were inside, Ed tossed his coat onto a chair, grabbed something from the fridge, and headed for the bathroom. It was an innocent enough action, but Laurie called out, some censure in his voice, “What are you doing?”

“Getting a beer and taking a bath,” Ed declared without turning around, then went into the bathroom and shut the door.

Laurie stared at the closed door for several seconds, fuming as he listened to the water run. He poured himself a glass of wine and slammed pans around as he prepared to cook, making sure the sounds could be heard in the bathroom. It did no good, of course, not for him and not for Ed. He tried to put his mind on cooking, tried turning on news on the radio and thinking of the world's problems and not his own, but twenty minutes later, when he'd burned the onions and overcooked the pasta, he turned it all off, took a deep breath, and headed into the bathroom.

Ed, soaking neck-deep in bubbles, his beer dangling from a hand hanging over the side, didn't even open his eyes.

“You're letting out all the warm air,” he said.

Laurie fumed for a second, then came in, shut the door, and leaned back against it. For several seconds, no one said anything, and Ed didn't look at him. He only opened his eyes to stare at the taps and occasionally take a drink. Laurie tried to hold on to his rage, tried to find his anger, but it was hard, staring at Ed's long, wet body, so strong, so beautiful. So male. Proud, strong Ed, who didn't want to take help, because that was who he was. At once, Laurie understood, truly understood.

And it depressed and deflated him.

“I'm sorry,” Laurie said at last. He came forward and sat on the closed toilet seat, shoulders slumping.

Ed sighed and slumped too. “No, you have nothing to be sorry for. It's just me and my damn pig head.” He ran his big toe along the side of the spout, staring at it intently as it slid across the chrome.

“I don't want you do be angry with me,” Laurie said.

Ed poked his toe into the square space of the spout's opening. “I just don't get why you won't go dancing with me out in public, if it's not that I suck. I mean, you get me all excited about it, say we're going to do it for therapy, and then you won't go out where we can show off?”

Laurie blinked, then frowned. “Wait. You think I'm upset about the show?”

Ed glanced at him, toe still stuck inside the spout like a sort of flesh plug. “You aren't? What the hell
are
you mad about then?”

Exasperation came rushing back. “Living together! You working with me and Vicky!”

“Oh fucking hell,” Ed grumbled and tried to sit up. But when he tried to pull back on his toe, it was stuck fast. “Shit,” he said and sat up to try and pull it out by hand.

Laurie came forward, pressed a hand to his chest, and kept him pinned in place, staring down at him with intent. He tried not to let himself get distracted by how sexy Ed looked all sleek and soaped. “I want to move in with you.”

Ed tried to push away, looking suddenly self-conscious. “My toe's stuck, Laur.”

Laurie ignored him and held him against the back of the tub. His heart was pounding. “I want to dance with you,” he said, speaking carefully, clearly working to keep himself in rigid control. “I want to dance with you. I want to dance for your friends, with the students, even your mom. That's fine. I just don't want to compete anymore. No more shows either.” His fingers curled gently against Ed's wet skin, and he stared down at them. “And I especially don't want to turn dancing with you into that.”

Ed looked at Laurie oddly. “What the hell kind of shit were you into, Laurie? Some sort of dancing mafia?”

That made Laurie laugh, though it was a sad, chagrined sound. “I just took it too seriously. I let it wreck everything.” His smile fell away. “I don't want to wreck this.”

Ed looked at Laurie for a long moment. Then he sighed, set down his bottle of beer, and pulled Laurie into the tub.

Laurie squealed and tried to fight him. “Ed! Ed, put me down—”

“No,” Ed said and hauled him onto his lap.

His toe eventually came out of the tap as Laurie struggled against him, and they sloshed water and bubbles recklessly over the sides of the tub as they fought each other, Laurie shrieking and insisting that this
was not funny
! while Ed laughed and yanked Laurie's shirt over his head. When Ed undid Laurie's jeans and slid his hands under the waistband, though, Laurie began to struggle in a very different way.

“Ed.” He gripped the sides of the tub as he lifted his ass so Ed could pry the soaked denim off his body. “Ed, you're insane.”

“Crazy for you, baby,” Ed whispered against his ear.

When he had the wet jeans off, he tossed them over the side, but when Laurie tried to take off his socks, Ed just hauled him against his body and trapped him in place as he reached for the soap. Laurie felt outrage morph quickly into arousal.

“I think you're kind of dirty,” Ed said, nipping at Laurie's ear as he ran the soap down his chest toward his groin. “Let me scrub you clean.”

Laurie arched as Ed's soapy hand snaked down to push between the cleft of his cheeks, and he cried out when Ed pressed against his opening and started to work his way inside. “Oh God,” he rasped. He tried to turn his face to Ed's, but then Ed slipped inside, and he shuddered.

Ed's finger was slowly fucking him now. “I like watching you come apart, baby.” He pushed his finger in to his second knuckle, feeling Laurie clench around him. “Like to be inside you.” He curled his finger and smiled as Laurie moaned. “Yeah. Like that, baby. Let me hear you. Let me hear how good this feels to you.”

Laurie writhed above his hand as the water lapped over their bodies as first one and then two fingers thrust. He looked down at his chest, seeing the hickey Ed had left the night before against Laurie's left breast.

Ed whispered in Laurie's ear. “Come dance with me, Laurie. Dance at Vic's show with me. It's just a simple thing. We aren't going to fuck this up.” He pushed his fingers deep and hooked again. “We're just going to fuck each other.” When Laurie cried out, he bit his ear. “Say yes.” He thrust again. “Say yes. Say yes.”

“Yes!” Laurie threw his head back and gripped the sides of the tub, undulating against Ed's hand as he began to lose control. “Damn it—yes—”

Ed growled and started to fuck him faster, but before he could lose himself completely, Laurie pushed off of him, flipped over, and straddled Ed, wedging him sideways so one knee could have purchase on the bottom of the tub. He braced a hand on Ed's chest again and looked him dead in the eye.

“Then I'm moving in with you, and you're coming to the studio. You're going to help me with the dancing classes, and you're teaching football at the center. Not playing. Teaching. Volunteering for now. Keeping your mind open about a job later if it works out. And you're letting me pay you or at least cover expenses for helping me out.” His hand slid down, thumb grazing Ed's nipple. “I'll do what you want if you do what I want.”

Ed looked as if he was struggling to argue against this, but he was also, Laurie noticed, succumbing to sexual torture the same way Laurie had. Eventually he nodded and let his hands slide up Laurie's sides. “Okay.”

Laurie took Ed's cock in hand. “Okay, then.” He began to stroke. “That's settled.”

Ed hissed as Laurie's wet hand moved over him. “Yeah. All settled.”

Laurie tried to push down on him, tried to line up their cocks and fuck, but they couldn't quite get purchase because there wasn't enough room. After a few minutes of driving each other crazy, Ed pulled the plug and pushed them out onto the rug. As soon as they were writhing, he tried to get his fingers back inside Laurie, but there wasn't much they could do without lube.

“Bed.” Ed rose from the floor and pushed Laurie across the room.

But even as they fell into the rhythm of making love, Laurie could feel the panic in Ed, and he felt the same within himself. And the feelings didn't go away even once they were both sexually spent.

Still so wet his hair was dripping, Ed pulled a panting Laurie to his chest and arranged them against the pillow.

“I want to dance with you,” he whispered into his neck, “because I feel so sexy when I dance with you. So strong. And I want everyone to see. I want everyone to see how amazing I feel with you.”

Laurie just shook his head and pressed his face into Ed's chest. “I want to move in with you because I want to help take care of you. Because I love you.”

Ed sighed and kissed the center of Laurie's forehead. Then he kissed his nose, then his mouth, and then he just kissed him, and Laurie kissed him back, still feeling unsure, but better. He kissed Ed, trying to tell him—and himself—without words that it was going to be okay.

Dick and Annette Maurer lived in the same Cape Cod bungalow they had lived in since 1972. It was furnished in largely the same manner as well, though lately Ed's dad had made some inroads on remodeling. But the house was still a living time capsule, and to be honest, that was the way Ed liked it.

It was especially comforting that day as he came through the narrow entrance of the back door, tossed his coat onto the top stair to the basement, and trudged up the five stairs into the tiny kitchen where he could smell dinner simmering on the stove. The table was set for two, and as he came around the corner by the refrigerator to the living room, he saw his father in his sagging recliner, reading the paper, which he put down as Ed's shadow fell over him.

“Well!” Dick declared, folding the classified section and tossing it over the arm of the chair in a fluid motion. “Look what the cat dragged in. Smelled your mother's sausage from eight blocks away, did you?” He glanced around hopefully. “Where's Laurie?”

“Working late. Where's Mom?” Ed sank onto the arm of the couch and took in the room. “Hey, you got a new TV!”

“Yep. Old one had a strip of color missing down the middle. I got tired of seeing the Redskins wearing magenta whenever they passed through. Your mother was messing with something in the bedroom, last I heard.” He lifted his head and squinted in the direction of the hallway. “Annie, sweetheart, Ed's here!” he called.

“Oh, good!” The cry came back muffled. “Ed, honey, come back and help me with this, would you?”

Ed's mother was buried in the back of her closet, trying to reach a bag of clothing on the top shelf. She gave Ed a quick smile before motioning to it. “Could you pull that down for me? I just can't quite reach it. And you know your father and his back.”

“Sure,” Ed said and reached over her for the bag, leaning to the left to try for a better grip. His mother pressed into the clothes hanging from the hangers, and Ed leaned farther until his fingers had firm purchase on the bottom. He pulled on the plastic.

And then he fell sideways into the closet with a sharp gasp as pain shot down his neck, his arm, his spine, and all the way into his right toe.

“Ed!” He felt his mother's hands on him, trying to right him. “Ed—Ed, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” But Ed had to shut his eyes and brace his hands against the back wall for a minute as the pain subsided. He could feel himself shaking in a sort of aftershock, and it was a tremor he couldn't stop. It was over now, but he felt like someone had shot him with a lightning bolt.

“Oh no. Is it your neck? Oh, baby, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have asked you to reach for it!”

That didn't stop the tremor, but it did get enough of a rise out of Ed that he pushed off the back wall and righted himself. “I'm fine. I just lost my balance is all.”

But his mother was zeroed in at the skin above his collar. “Nothing about your neck at all? Have you been doing your exercises? Laurie?” She called down the hall toward the living room. “Laurie, honey? Has he been doing his exercises?”

“Laurie's not here,” Ed snapped, his temper shorter than he meant it to be. He stuffed his hands into his jean pockets, which hid most of the shaking. “I'm fine, Mom,” he said more gently. “I'm fine.”