“So is he going to be working his way through the women of Los Angeles?”
Dmitri turned to gaze at him, faintly smiling. “He wishes to marry.”
“Oh!” That did change things. It was a significant step; Patrick was certain Hiro realized it. He hadn’t, after all, ever married before. It sounded as though the younger man viewed his move to Los Angeles as part of a plan. A plan for a new, complete, settled life. “That’s kind of great.”
“Yes.” Dmitri rolled to his side, worked a leg in between Patrick’s, and kissed him. “Like you. Je t’aime.” He propped himself on an elbow. His other hand started to wander.
“Je t’aime aussi. Oh God, do that again.” Patrick basically only went to the gym to keep his doctor quiet and to not disgrace his husband. But it was very rewarding to be handled like this, to hear the sounds of appreciation, to feel strong and limber. He exerted himself a little and rolled them over. He sat up and straddled Dmitri’s hips, stroking his hands down that muscular chest, teasing his nipples, toying with body hair. “I like that you don’t wax anymore.” Dmitri huffed out a laugh. A hairless chest was almost de rigueur in the ballroom. Patrick bent down to get his mouth on that chest. Dmitri made a stifled sound. Patrick spoke against his skin. “All these years I’ve been trying to see if I can get you off only by doing this. I always get distracted.” Another laugh. They both got distracted. Patrick would reach down, or Dmitri would reach up, and they’d be kissing again. “Maybe tonight. Don’t you move.” Patrick was thoroughly aroused already.
So was Dmitri. He made a sound of protest, because he wanted to move. Wanted to push his hips up against Patrick’s. Wanted a hand, or that mouth, or to get inside. Anything or everything. Instead he kept still. It was torture. Patrick had his hands planted on the bed, holding himself off Dmitri’s body. He trailed kisses up and down what felt like every rib. His mouth open on Dmitri’s sternum, licking over to one nipple and then the other. “Mmm.”
“Oh, I know you like that. I can feel it.” Dmitri’s erection against his own. Both of them twitching with reaction. “Put your hands on me, sweetheart. On my back,” he specified, because if Dmitri got a hand in between them this was all going to be over really soon. Patrick moved his mouth to one collarbone, then the other. Nibbling a little before lavishing open-mouthed kisses on Dmitri’s neck. They were both breathing fast. It was all Patrick could do not to thrust against him, and he could feel Dmitri’s body quivering with the effort to keep still. “God, I love you.” His mouth moving down again. Back to those nipples. Tongue, and the lightest bite. Loving the gasp, the helpless reaction lower down. His own arms feeling the strain, because Dmitri’s were around him now, trying to pull him close. “Nope. Let go.” He bit again, less gently, scraping teeth sideways along a rib until Dmitri released him. His hands went to Patrick’s thighs, around the back of his hips. “Jesus.” Another stifled laugh. This was impossible. Patrick was so close to climax he kept forgetting to breathe. He reminded himself to do that, then closed his mouth over a nipple and sucked.
“Christ!” Dmitri so rarely spoke during sex, that felt like a victory. His hands were clamped on Patrick’s ass. Neither of them was dry. They were both about to go, Patrick could tell.
He moved to the other nipple, biting lightly alongside it, swept his tongue over it, and then sucked it into his mouth. Dmitri lost it. He surged up against Patrick with a loud and fervent Ukrainian oath, hips pumping. “Fucking hell,” Patrick said around that nipple, then released it and let his body go flat against his husband’s. Absorbing that pulse and rocking his own hips, coming hard for what felt like forever. “God in heaven.”
“Make up your mind,” Dmitri said after a minute, when they’d caught their breath. “Heaven or hell.”
Patrick laughed. He peeled himself off Dmitri. “Got you. Finally. Wow.” He collapsed on his back.
Dmitri patted his thigh. “Next time,” he said, “I do it to you.”
“You will hear every swear word ever invented.” Patrick let his eyes close, smiling as the bed shook with his husband’s silent laughter.
Before long, Dmitri was positive that Hiro was the right man for the job. He worked hard, all the students liked him, and even more importantly all the other instructors liked him. His personality was completely right for their dance family: tolerant, humorous, kind. And he was already in love, though Dmitri thought he didn’t quite realize it himself.
There had been a meeting, a first-look at the Cabaret’s next summer pro show. Dmitri closed the studio so that Alison Jarvet, the director and principal choreographer, could present her concept and brainstorm the show with a new collaborator and several likely cast members. This year it would be ballroom-heavy; Dmitri suggested that Hiro should come to the meeting. Every woman in the room had the predictable reaction. Only Alison herself hadn’t previously met Hiro, though apparently she’d heard about him. He left with Mateo’s sister Kristine, there representing Matsumoto Dancewear. Dmitri made eye contact with Mateo, who performed a full-body gesture as legible as one of Dmitri’s. It said ‘can you blame her’ and Dmitri almost laughed.
He was in the office with Mateo and Elena a few days later. After reviewing their latest video – they were preparing for the Open Professional Rhythm event at the upcoming Emerald Ball – he said, “Your sister.”
Mateo rolled his eyes, stood up and closed the office door, leaned against it, and said, “He asked her to marry him.” Dmitri’s eyebrows shot up. Elena made a startled sound. “I know! Well, she was here when he came to interview. She saw him. She was like, Imma get that.” Elena laughed.
“She wishes to marry?” Kristine was only twenty-five. Dmitri wasn’t surprised that she was attracted to Hiro, but that was a significant age difference.
“Yeah, she wants to get married. She wants to have kids. And apparently he seriously does too. He’s like I was afraid I’d waited too long, but you’re perfect, so what do you say. She’s going to give it a minute to see if they come to their senses, but Sam and I have a bet.”
“Which is?”
“My money says they’ll be married before Christmas.” Mateo bit his lip, looked away for a second, then back at Dmitri. “But not before me. Sam and I are getting married.” He was smiling but his eyes were wet. He and Sam had been together for almost five years.
“Oh.” Dmitri sat back, smiling. Mateo looked at him like ‘who are you,’ as did Elena. Dmitri stood up and hugged him. Kissed him on both cheeks. Patted his arms, still smiling. “Is good.” Mateo threw himself back into Dmitri’s arms.
“God, you guys,” Elena said after a minute. “Give a girl a chance.” They made room for her in the hug. “I can’t believe you didn’t spill those beans during our practice.”
“We were busy,” Mateo said, wiping his face. “And I knew I was going to cry when I told you.”
Patrick got home from the office tired, irritated, and more interested in a stiff drink than in hearing anything about the dance studio, or anyone in it. Dmitri may have deduced as much from his affect. He said little, merely ensuring that Patrick had something to eat along with an oversized glass of wine. Once that was accomplished, Patrick leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Thanks sweetheart. Are you worn out or could I beg a back rub?” Dmitri didn’t even say anything then, only gave Patrick a hand, tugged him out of the chair, and led him to the bedroom.
Half an hour later, they were both naked and Patrick was even less interested in the dance studio. His back felt much better. Now Dmitri was massaging his legs, but in a specifically attentive way. “Jesus H. Christ,” he said, when he felt Dmitri’s mouth on the back of his knee. How is it that I can feel you smile, he thought, smiling into the pillow. “I guess you’re not worn out.” A soft laugh, another kiss, moving up. “Sorry I was cranky.” Another soft sound, this one saying he’d been no such thing, which Patrick might have argued with under other circumstances, but the mouth was doing other things. He was losing track of what he was saying. D
mitri’s hands were still on him, stroking up and down the outsides of his thighs, up to his hips. Around and inside and down. “God almighty.” Another kiss, high on the back of a thigh, and the hands pushing his knees apart. Then Dmitri’s chest resting on Patrick’s ass, and his mouth on Patrick’s spine, and his hands sweeping up under Patrick’s chest as he arched away from the bed with a gasp. “Jesus.” Dmitri was moving up. Patrick knew what was likely to happen next. He wanted that, but he wanted a kiss more, or first. He twisted so he could look back at his husband. “Kiss me.” Dmitri moved, going for the lube, while Patrick settled onto his back. For the next few minutes it was all about Dmitri’s hand on Patrick, and the kiss. Then Dmitri was stretched out on top of him. They were still kissing. Patrick hooked a foot over Dmitri’s thigh. Moved his other leg, raising the knee. They were rocking against each other, slick and hard, never breaking the kiss until finally Dmitri made a hungry sound and raised himself up. Changed position, one hand pushing Patrick’s thigh open. The lube again, a caress. Patrick tipped his hips up, wrapping both legs over Dmitri’s back. “Yes. God.”
Dmitri pushed in, bit by bit, watching Patrick’s neck arch and his eyes close. Watching him bite his lip, hearing the sounds he made, feeling the heat and the pressure. Holding still for a moment, all the way in, as they both gasped for breath. Leaning down for another kiss, feeling Patrick’s erection throbbing. “You will go.” It might have been an order. He started to move, mouth open over Patrick’s. The angle and the depth and the rhythm perfected by years of practice, holding his own climax until Patrick broke the kiss, cursing. Dmitri arched away, holding still deep inside. The sound he uttered as he came made Patrick smile. They were both quiet then. Dmitri disengaged. He went flat against Patrick while they caught their breath.
“God I love you,” Patrick said after a while.
“Je t’aime aussi.” Dmitri kissed him again and rolled off to the side. “You feel better now.”
“I feel sensational now. Tell me why you were smiling all the way up my legs. Aside from the fact that you were making me blaspheme.”
“Mateo and Sam will marry.”
Patrick turned his head to verify the smile he’d heard in the voice. “Well, it’s about time.” The smile broadened.
With Hiro taking all of the Latin students, there was room to breathe again. Dmitri had been watching from the sidelines, doing no more than reviewing, while Vince and Michelle worked through their proposed routines. He’d done the same for Mateo and Elena. After the Emerald Ball, he finally had time to meet with them for some serious strategizing. “What is your goal now,” he said. “Your next events.”
“Yankee Classic,” said Elena. “Desert Classic. Then Hawaii. Then Seattle again, and then California Star.”
“Not Ohio?”
“We’d both rather do Mating Dance: Mamboscope,” Mateo said. “Three more out of state is enough. I’m getting married, dammit. I want to stay home with my honey.”
Dmitri shot him a sideways glance, not quite a smile. He was still coming back from losing Ray. Hiro was helping a lot. Mateo and Sam’s engagement had helped even more. “Is good,” was all he said.
“But to answer your question,” Elena said, “I think the goal is to have a little more fun with it the rest of the year. The first half of last season was such a grind, and the beginning of this year, well. I want Mateo and Sam to be able to do the pro show again, and while they’re doing that Tony and I might get away for a little while. We haven’t seen my parents for a long time. Gio hasn’t been up into the mountains.”
Dmitri nodded. “Let me see your routines.” They got down to business. “Is satisfying,” he told Patrick later. “To make a change and see how it works.”
“How much did you change?” Dmitri made a dismissive gesture. Patrick laughed under his breath. “How much would they say you changed?” A wicked sideways look. “Are they going to get their win this year?”
That was a good question. From placing fourth their first time out in Rising Star Rhythm, it had taken a year for Mateo and Elena to win. Now they were competing in Open Professional. They were placing almost every time, performing consistently well. “They do five more,” he said eventually. “With focus, they should win.”
“Are they going to Ohio?” A shake of the head. “Closing the season at California Star?” A nod. “Well, good. Everybody will be there to see Vince and Michelle debut. There’s one little thing though.” Dmitri looked up as Patrick went to get something from the kitchen. Probably from that follow-up box, still in its original place. We are predictable, he thought, amused. Then Patrick put a card in his hand. It was an invitation to Ruzanna’s wedding, and it was on Thanksgiving weekend. The night that Mateo and Elena would compete. They would understand. Elena knew about Ruzanna. He glanced at Patrick again, eyebrows up. Patrick grinned. “I already asked. Yes, they’re writing their own vows.”
August 2017
“Boss, I want to do a tryout with Anya Ivanova.” Hiro and Dmitri were out for coffee during the last week of the pro show. “She’s been great in ‘Face the Music.’ Ricky’s been working with her a long time and he’s crazy about her.”
“Yes.” Dmitri thought about this for a minute. Anya was a World Salsa Challenge champion with her partner Ricky Castillo. They’d both worked with the Underground Cabaret several times, and – he knew – were successful teachers as well as sought-after performers. He’d noticed Anya before, and he’d watched her during rehearsals. He hadn’t had this idea himself, though. He knew Hiro meant a tryout as a Latin instructor. They hadn’t been able to find a female professional they both liked enough to commit to. As far as Dmitri knew, Anya didn’t have a Latin ballroom background.
This wouldn’t be a full-time position. But it would be a contracted position. It wouldn’t be the same as handing Julia’s students over to someone who didn’t have a formal relationship with the studio, someone who might not care as much about the dance family. Some of those students had worked with Julia for years, and they hadn’t been in a hurry to develop a new teacher-student relationship. But several big local competitions had passed them by, and another was about to. The students were getting restive; they wanted to compete. If Dmitri could secure the services of a good teacher, a good fit for the studio and for the students, in time for the California Star Ball in November they would most likely keep all those men. “Ask her,” he said finally. Hiro had been sitting quietly, watching him think. “Closing night.”
Hiro smiled. “When she’s all psyched? Like you did with Michelle?”
Dmitri didn’t ask how Hiro knew that. They all talked. He didn’t address it. Instead he said, “Make sure Terry sees you with Kristine.” Terry was Anya’s boyfriend. Hiro laughed, but he nodded.
As always, Dmitri discussed it with Patrick. He brought it up indirectly, after dinner when they were both relaxed. There was a temporary lull in Patrick’s business, and they were heading into a quiet month for Dmitri. All the hard work on ‘Face the Music’ was done.
He’d been significantly involved in developing and rehearsing the pro show, but he fully intended to scale back his participation in the Cabaret for at least the next six months. Vince and Michelle would be reworking their Smooth routines and their show dance in September. Dmitri meant to leave them to it. He’d be available for troubleshooting, but their strategy for dealing with his unavailability after the accident had been so successful that he really thought he should step away. Mateo and Elena didn’t need him. Hiro didn’t need him. Patrick did. So after pouring them each a drink and getting comfortable on the couch in the den, he said, “May I ask your opinion of a dancer?”
Patrick looked over with evident surprise. “I presume you don’t mean my opinion of whoever this is as a dancer.” Patrick knew quite a lot about dancing now, but his true interest still began and ended with Dmitri. The amused glance in response was all he needed. “Who?”
“Anya Ivanova.” Dmitri waited to see if Patrick remembere
d who she was. His recall of people associated with the Cabaret was generally good. Patrick frowned a little as he flipped through his mental Rolodex. “She dances with Ricky Castillo.”
That prompt did the job. Ricky was in the ‘hard to forget’ category for anyone who appreciated a sexy man. Patrick said, “The salsa girl. Been doing things with the Cabaret since … ‘Lunatics.’ In the pro show this year. Oh wait, yeah, they’re the ones who did that whack apache thing in ‘Carousel.’ What was the story with that?” The show’s theme required music in three-quarter time. Castillo and his partner turned in a routine so physically scary that people talked about it for weeks.
“Ricky lived with someone violent. He is free of that now. He and Anya have worked together more than six years.”
Patrick thought about it. Now that he had faces in mind, he remembered a series of dances over the past year. All dark, though none as frightening as the apache. Anya’s stage persona for those was controlled, almost cold. But they were all fearless, committed performances. Her trust in Ricky was clearly absolute. She was obviously a hard worker. And if she’d been anything less than a good collaborator, he would have heard about it during the prep for ‘Face the Music.’ He said all of that to Dmitri. Then he said, “Having barely even spoken to the woman, I would venture a guess that she is intelligent, disciplined, a quick study, and reliable. Having spoken to Ricky, I would also guess that she is not as bad-tempered as she looks.” Dmitri laughed. Patrick congratulated himself. “What’s the real question?”
“Hiro will approach her about a tryout. To train in Latin, to take our men. If it works, she will join the studio part-time.”
“Hey, that’s great.” Patrick set down his glass. “You say he will approach her. Let me guess. On closing night, at the wrap party, when she’s jazzed. You people don’t play fair.”
Change Partners (The L.A. Stories) Page 20
