Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’s exhausted, unbearably so, yet sleep is the last thing on his mind. Suzuki’s hotel room is two floors above his, and the pull is so strong he's almost tempted to skip the shower and show up as he is now – sweaty, literally trembling with nerves, gasping for breath. How ungentlemanly.

The water is blissfully hot, a pleasure he hasn’t earned yet. But maybe in a few hours… Sugiki has survived the day of 10Dance and prays to survive the night. He wants it, he needs it, and his patience is fraying as he hurriedly turns off the tap. Not a minute more, it has to be now – he doesn't know what will happen next, but his thoughts are already leaving the room.

The hotel elevator mocks him, crawling along while his own heartbeat is racing two flights up the stairs. Sugiki knocks – the door opens quietly, and Suzuki’s dark gaze pins him to the spot. Suzuki doesn’t move.

“May I come in?” he forces out.

“The Grim Reaper has come for my soul,” Suzuki says and forces a tired smile. Damn. His angel used to take bigger steps towards him - Sugiki hoped to be knocked off his feet and kissed within an inch of his life.

“I’d like to come in,” he repeats.

Suzuki moves aside, and Sugiki finally shuts the door, leaning back against it. The room smells like cigarettes. It must be torture not to be able to smoke all day.

“Let’s train together,” Sugiki says, grimacing with awkwardness. “From now on.”

Suzuki does nothing to help him, makes no attempt at conversation – well, he deserves that. The fire inside Sugiki is fueled by the sight of wet, bleached strands of hair stuck to Suzuki's high forehead. He wants to grab his waist and crush him, bite his lips – his desire is violent, all-consuming, and he knows that Suzuki sees right through him.

“Do you remember rubbing your dick on me the first time we danced together?” Suzuki finally asks.

Embarrassment hits Sugiki like a backhand - so hard that he flinches.

“It was an accident,” he hastily denies, but Suzuki’s lips are already curving into a teasing smile, compelling him to add, “You were rubbing yours all over me later when you were teaching me Latin dances.”

“Ah, but I was already seducing you. Gently, slowly, properly – letting you feel it. And I expected more finesse from a famous ballroom dancer than… that.”

“I don’t think I’m much of a gentleman,” confesses Sugiki.

“You don’t say.”

He’s being provoked, isn’t he? Sugiki takes a couple of steps forward, and his angel is on him, kissing him brutally, biting – Sugiki moans and grabs his hips, forcing them flush against his own, and he’s half-hard already, they both are.

He wants to fuck Suzuki until he cries, until his lips tremble and his whole face is wet - just like that time in Blackpool, to bruise his hips and chest and neck, to ruin him. He wants to choke him with his cock.

“The way you danced today…” Suzuki breathes against his mouth. “So passionate.”

Suzuki whispered his hotel room number right before the results were announced, and Sugiki could hardly focus on anything else afterward – Suzuki’s flushed face, shining with sweat, was all he could think of. Sugiki’s passion for dancing, crumpled by his ex-fiancée, is back, and he feels love in every move.

“You were amazing too,” he replies.

“Why don’t you show me then,” Suzuki grinds his hips, and their clothed cocks rub together. “Show me how much you liked it.”

They move together, almost dancing, but the goal isn’t grace or beauty – it’s pure sensation, and, god, does it feel amazing. Sugiki has never been with a man; he and Suzuki haven’t done more than some breathlessly passionate kissing. But this feels safe, not too foreign. Just enjoying each other’s bodies without demanding too much.

Sugiki wants to demand more, but to do that he would have to pull away from those lips, and he’s too far gone, too tired and too aroused to stop. He doesn’t know for sure, but it feels like Suzuki hasn’t been with men either, and the thought fills him with possessive glee. Suzuki is only his to have and to wreck.

Suzuki sucks on his tongue and pushes him towards the bed – they’ve done this before. Last time, the man was on him, kissing and rubbing, sucking on his neck, and Sugiki wanted to overpower him, twist his arms, make him beg, break him and fuck the shards through the mattress. His ex had left him because he couldn’t allow himself to give in to his own violent desires, and the restraint left him tense and bereft, dull as a silver medal. That chapter of his life is closed: his last dance with Liana in Blackpool was worthy of gold.

Sugiki hopes his angel can handle more than his ex-fiancée did.

“I want to dance with you,” he breathes.

“Mm-hmm,” Suzuki moans, kissing him again. They are fully dressed, slotting their hips together in a desperate search for friction.

He dodges the greedy mouth and forces Suzuki onto his back. The man's dark eyes glisten wetly in the lamplight, his mouth red, slightly open, and just as wet, his hair is damp, and Sugiki wants him like he’s wanted no one else. It doesn’t matter who takes home the top prize; they will become one – gold, silver, and the red-hot vise of their embrace.

When he provoked Suzuki into accepting the 10 Dance challenge, his angel warned, “Don’t ditch me when I get serious.” He did exactly that – he ditched after their first competition, and his rough kiss now becomes softer, more apologetic.

Sugiki truly doesn’t know his limits because he’s never tried to let go.

“No, harder,” Suzuki demands, grinning, mocking him. “You think I can't take it?"

He wants to grab that gold chain around Suzuki’s neck and strangle him – that’s how much he wants him. Instead, Suzuki yanks him closer, and they are grinding again, kissing, and it’s mind-blowingly good. He could, theoretically, come like this.

“Get your pants off,” Suzuki growls, and he’s more than willing. He struggles with his zipper while Suzuki wrestles so violently with his own clothes that something tears loudly.

He’s seen Suzuki topless with his pants open, but never more than that – now his gaze slides all over the muscular thighs to his groin, and the hard dark cock catches his attention: it lies on his stomach, touching his tattoo. He’s too horny to feel weird – knowing how much Suzuki wants him back is enough to shatter all remains of his control. He reaches out and grabs the other man's cock.

The moan he gets in return is sweeter, hotter, breathier – and that's enough to find himself on top of Suzuki again and line their cocks together.

“Come on, it’s not a waltz,” Suzuki complains, pushing him away slightly, spitting on his palm and grabbing both of them at once – a good idea, a great idea. They’ll need to buy lube, and the thought plunges Sugiki into images of fucking him, those impossibly long legs wrapped around his torso, the pleasure driving him crazy. He comes like that, spilling between them, and he catches Suzuki’s gleeful expression before the man shudders and sighs.

They are sticky, filthy and they keep kissing.

“You were seducing me when you undressed,” Sugiki murmurs, “right after I rubbed my dick on you. When we first danced together.”

Suzuki’s smile is open and teasing.

“You needed to feel the eroticism. It’s not just rubbing your…”

“Stop.”

“You were enticed. You couldn’t think of anything but me.”

Sugiki had been a goner long before that – it just took a while to accept.

“You called me ‘not sexy’. Look at you now.”

Suzuki glances at the drying come on his stomach and laughs. They need a shower.

“You called me rough and vulgar. Look at you.”

“I’m sorry for breaking things off.”

Suzuki’s face grows serious. He stares at Sugiki in a way that makes his stomach clench.

“Why did you ask me for a dance in front of everyone?” he asks finally.

“You would have rejected me if nobody was watching.”

Suzuki shrugs and turns his head to look at the window. His dark eyelashes lower, hiding the wet glimmer in his eyes.

“Maybe.”

Oh. Maybe he wouldn't have.

Chapter Text

Whatever is said about sleeping with your dance partner, Suzuki prefers to release the tension rather than let it simmer. He briefly dated Aki when they first started dancing together, and it only made them stronger – they aren’t hesitant to touch each other passionately on the dancefloor. The spark is still alive, the confidence in each other remains, as do the memories of the shared pleasure, but the focus no longer strays - that’s how they keep winning gold.

It doesn’t hurt that they are good friends driven by the same passion, that she actually likes him as a person. He helped her through numerous breakups, and she stopped him from hitting rock bottom and blowing up his life after Shinya Sugiki's unambiguous rejection.

How funny that all of Sugiki’s feelings, which he was so sure of, didn’t change anything – he still reduced their relationship to a rivalry and left, abandoning Suzuki in Blackpool. Suzuki had felt his passion, the obsessive need for control, the sudden gentleness that made it all more cherished, yet feelings alone were never enough. The bastard betrayed him, but also himself, and Suzuki couldn’t understand one thing: for what? What did he gain in the end? It still feels like a whole lot of nothing.

At the time, he was convinced everything ended because of Liana, Sugiki's ex-fiancée, still had so much power over him, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he, Shinya Suzuki, held more, or even just as much place in his heart. He felt foolishly defeated by both of them. He didn’t get the silver, not even the bronze - he wasn’t even on the podium, forced out by the Grim Reaper, his old love, and the man she had chosen.

Now, with the 10Dance competition over, he exhales the euphoria like cigarette smoke, and uncertainty lingers on his tongue. He knows Sugiki wants to train together - fine, easy enough. He’s game. He knows he’s still desired, but he also knows that outside the bubble of their respective dance schools, people are still talking.

They kissed on the dancefloor at the Asian Cup Dance Championship, and everybody saw that. He’s been asked about it - nobody dares to approach Sugiki - and what the hell is he supposed to say? "We’re kind of a thing" - what kind of thing? "It’s nothing" - nothing that's been circulating on the internet for months: there are videos and photos. So fucking stupid.

In one especially good shot, they're smiling, their lips are a millimeter apart - so what now?

Feeling foolish and in love - his teenage years are back. He’s about to start getting pimples and bad hair days. He’s not playing anymore; the tension doesn’t feel sexy - it feels mocking.

Aki asks, confused, “Shinya, aren't you together now?” Hah.

They might be together today, and tomorrow Sugiki might ditch him again. Love means nothing if the Grim Reaper decides it’s time - there will be no mercy for either of them. He’s still fucking bitter - not everyone can bottle shit up as effectively as Teacher Sugiki.

Aki is friends with Fusako - so much for having called her a bitch - and he learns that Sugiki was also going through a rough patch before he decided to ask him for a dance at the Asian Cup.

The bastard says, “You would have rejected me if nobody was watching.” Just like he rejected Suzuki on that dark night after the Blackpool competition. His nightmare is Sugiki's hands first grabbing his throat, then closing around his heart and ripping it out, breaking his ribs.

They sleep together. They don’t fuck, but they grind against each other and jerk off, and Sugiki’s heated gaze feels like relief, his kisses like salvation. He falls for it all again.

When he and Aki go back to Sugiki’s dance school for practice, Suzuki once again doesn’t know where he stands - it pisses him off.

“Come home with me,” says Sugiki. “After we wrap everything up.”

“Not even dinner first,” replies Suzuki with a mocking smile. He's faking it; he needs to be more honest. “What a way to make me feel like a cheap whore.”

Sugiki stares intently at his mouth; he's tense, visibly exercising control to suppress something inside himself again. His head is a mass grave of normal human feelings.

“No, not cheap,” the man replies, and the words are a singe across Suzuki’s abdomen. What the fuck. “I’ll cook.”

So he feigns casualness and follows the Grim Reaper home. It’s nice. Sugiki’s place is predictably neat, tidy, and minimalistic: no medals or dancing memorabilia in sight, though the parquet floor is good for dancing. Sugiki’s dark, beautiful eyes never leave him. No man should be allowed to be this handsome. Suzuki has always thought that, even before they became involved in whatever this is. Sugiki's face is breathtaking; his posture and movements are measured grace, nothing superfluous. He’s not as muscular as Suzuki, but he’s wiry, he has the softest chest hair, he cooks well, and Suzuki wants to fuck him - but the man’ll never relinquish control.

He knows Sugiki is unlikely to spread his legs willingly, but he himself is driven mad by the desire to possess Sugiki, embrace him, fuck him all night long until they’re both exhausted but sated. He wants to get him to a Cuban beach and make love under palm trees - the thought explodes like a can of gasoline inside. Or is this fire outside? Is Sugiki burning, and Suzuki just a kiln that can barely withstand the heat?

Sugiki offers him tea, his hypnotic eyes never leaving Suzuki’s face. Then he touches his hand, and Suzuki launches himself at him, slotting their mouths together - he can’t wait anymore. Sugiki’s tongue is in his mouth, his hands are on his ass, and it’s perfect.

“I want to fuck you,” groans Suzuki, and the fingers kneading his buttocks still.

He probably shouldn’t have said that.

“Well. Maybe we…” Sugiki starts hesitantly, then stops and tries again more decisively. “We’ll have to do it the Asian Cup way.”

“Like, taking turns?” Suzuki pulls back, his heart racing. Sugiki is willing..? The man doesn't ask - he states it as a fact, but he's offering a compromise, and that’s more than Suzuki has ever hoped for.

“We could… try that.”

Sugiki looks so uncomfortable, refusing to meet his eyes, that Suzuki takes pity on him. The tense line of Sugiki’s shoulders tells him that if they try that today, nobody will finish, let alone the fact that he doesn’t feel ready to be on the receiving end. And yet, he’s almost giddy with anticipation. They’ll try that - sometime soon. Sugiki will… Oh. Oh, he’ll have a chance to…

“Not today. Later,” Suzuki says with a grin. “What if I just suck you off now, hmm?”

“Yeah.”

They both lunge for Sugiki’s zipper as if it’s a common enemy, their fingers getting in each other’s way, and Suzuki laughs like a madman. He hasn’t tried this before, but in his experience, it’s difficult to truly fuck up a blowjob. If he wants to be with a man, he'll have to get to know his cock better, and Suzuki is nothing if not adaptable. Between the two of them, it’s enough for Sugiki to take the first step - Suzuki will do the rest of the running. It’s not a big deal.

He feels Sugiki’s lust, the barely controlled energy he’s holding back, and Suzuki wonders what it would feel like to be buried under the onslaught of his passion. He tugs Sugiki’s pants down, getting rid of them, and the hard, dark cock is right in his face - just like when he’d teasingly slid to his knees during practice. He may have thought about this before. A couple of times. He mouths at the head, and a strong hand firmly grasps his hair, tugging, pressing his face into Sugiki’s groin.

Suzuki hears how hard the man is breathing - as if he’d danced a quickstep across a football pitch. He opens his mouth wider and sucks on the head, reaches for Sugiki’s clenched ass and pats the cleft.

“Spit on your fingers,” Sugiki’s voice is low, hoarse, and demanding - a heady combination reminiscent of their dance lessons. Suzuki does exactly that and carefully reaches between his spread legs, behind his balls. “Suck my dick.”

Suzuki closes his eyes and sucks - it’s an uncomfortably hot mouthful he should be careful not to touch with his teeth, but he feels Sugiki is almost shaking, and his lust flares up. Strong hands squeeze his neck and push him forward, making him take the cock further into his mouth - he chokes a little, and Sugiki’s breath catches.

“You can put a finger in if you take me down your throat,” says the bastard. Suzuki glances up - Sugiki’s eyes are all pupil, his face flushed, his mouth open.

They don't take their eyes off each other as Suzuki tries to swallow more of him, and his spit-lubed finger goes in with difficulty - not slippery enough; his ass is like a vice. At least he knows what he’s looking for - his girlfriends had tried that on him.

“Deeper. Take it deeper,” urges Sugiki breathlessly, and damn - he’s trying. It’s not easy, and he keeps choking every time Sugiki’s hands force him down. “Ah. Ah.”

The man starts moving his hips - little by little, helping the finger massage his insides - and it’s so hot Suzuki’s head spins. Fuck, he’s really into it. His own cock aches in his pants; he covers it with his palm and presses down. Oh, yes.

“Suck harder and swallow,” Sugiki growls, and he struggles to obey - the urge to choke is so intense his eyes prickle with tears. He crooks his finger, and Sugiki comes, jerking his hair hard - it hurts. Fuck.

His semen is bitter, just like the man himself. A gentleman? No, a thug.

“Why don't you buy some pineapple juice,” Suzuki comments after he almost coughes his lungs out. The bastard doesn’t even look apologetic - he’s relaxed, looking completely out of it. “We need a bed,” he decides and pushes an unresisting Sugiki toward what he guesses is the bedroom. The man goes willingly, stretches out on the covers, and looks up at Suzuki with that seductive dark gaze - although any gaze from him is seductive. “Do you have lube?”

“Yes,” Sugiki replies after a beat. He’s not tensing, but he’s watching closely, silently, and Suzuki can’t read his expression.

“There?” Suzuki asks, pointing at the nightstand. Receiving no answer, he steps towards it and rummages through the drawers - pills, a couple of books, a charger - until he finds a half-empty bottle. “I want to slick up your thighs.”

Sugiki blinks, then slowly turns to lie on his stomach, his toned, tempting ass on display. Such genuine enthusiasm.

Suzuki quickly sheds his clothes and pounces on him, gently turning his head to reach for a kiss - a filthily bitter kiss from a lover who’s just served his partner. Sugiki moans when he tastes himself. They keep kissing and licking until Sugiki finally grabs the lube, squirts a little into his hand, and wraps it around Suzuki’s hard cock.

“Are you stalling because you're afraid you won’t be able to hold back?” he grumbles, squeezing, and Suzuki lets out a soft moan. He grinds against Sugiki’s palm, his side, and finally between his thighs, which Sugiki has locked together. He moans and the insufferable bastard actually laughs. “Ah, you’re so easy. Actually, I don’t think you’ll last long fucking me.”

“You won't last a minute with my dick up your ass,” Suzuki snaps back and bites the other man's shoulder, earning a soft sigh in return. Sugiki loves it; he can feel it.

“Oh, I will. Trust me. I’ll last a whole lot more than a minute, Shinya.”

He moves his hips to get more delicious friction, and Sugiki’s ass grinds back against him, so eager. Suzuki wants to suck it, lick it - the thought makes him shudder.

“Come,” Sugiki orders, and it’s hot, too erotic to handle when his tyrant just tells him what to do - Suzuki is really into it. He comes between the slippery thighs, imagining more.

THE END