Mason felt heat prickle his cheeks again. David's reaction wasn't the typical one he got at all. "Not really. It was what I wanted, so I worked hard. That's all."
"You know most of the dancers you'll ever work alongside will have started much, much younger?"
"I know." And even in Emotion in Motion, where he'd got on with pretty much everyone, there had still been dancers who hadn't let him forget that he didn't have as much training as they did and that he wouldn't ever be as good as they were. Maybe that was why he'd always pushed himself so hard: to prove he could be just as good as everyone else.
"Amazing."
Mason let out a nervous laugh. "You said that already. I'm not that good."
"You are, Mason. Watching you today took my breath away."
Mason looked over at the window. "You don't have to say that."
"But I want to." David pressed his lips to Mason's forehead. "You have so much talent, Mason."
It wasn't that Mason didn't know he had talent—he'd had enough people tell him so over the years to make it a definite truth in his head—but he also knew there were dancers who were far better than he; that there would always be someone better than he. Besides, it was weird hearing the praise gush out of David's mouth, and he couldn't help but think it was because of the night they'd shared rather than due to his ability as a dancer.
"I should go." But he still couldn't make himself move. "What happened last night…"
"Was wonderful," David said. "What was it you wanted us to be? Neighbours with benefits?"
Mason laughed nervously. As much as he wanted that, it couldn't happen. "We can't—"
David silenced him with a searing kiss, then asked, "Why not?"
"I'm pretty sure we've been over that. We have to work together."
"And? I'm professional enough to keep my work and sex lives separate. Aren't you?"
Mason opened his mouth and then shut it again. "I've never slept with someone I've worked with."
David chuckled. "You have now. We can't take it back." He tipped his hips against Mason's. "What are you worried about? It's not something you can lose your job over."
"No, but the other dancers can make things really difficult for me if they find out."
"In what way?"
"They'll think you're giving me an easy time because we're sleeping together. Whatever role you give me, they'll think I got because of you, and not because I deserve it."
"Our sleeping together won't affect how I treat you as a dancer," David assured him. "As for roles, they're as much Veronica's decision as they are mine."
"Do you think that will matter?" Mason countered.
"What other people think means a lot to you?"
Mason sighed. "Not normally, no. But I have to work with them, David, and I'm new to the company. I can't afford to make a bad name for myself."
"Then we'll be discreet," David said. "Because as far as I'm concerned, who I fuck has nothing to do with anyone I work with." He tilted his head and stared at Mason thoughtfully. "Unless you don't want me to fuck you again?" He took a half-step back and stared down at the bulge in Mason's jeans, licking his lips.
"You know I do," Mason whimpered.
"Then stop overthinking things. Like you said last night, we're two consenting adults. What we do in the privacy of our own homes is no one else's business. I'm not going to walk into the dance studio tomorrow and tell everyone how much I enjoyed fucking you last night." He raised his eyebrows. "Are you?"
Mason was caught between laughing and groaning. "No."
"Then it's settled?" David asked. "Neighbours with benefits?"
"Yes." The single word escaped Mason, along with a contented smile. He could be discreet. No one had to know.
Chapter Eight
David
The next few days passed by quickly. During the day, David had the dancers workshop various parts of the story, exploring themes and characters. At night, he sought out Mason, adoring every single moment he spent with the young man. Mason was like a drug he couldn't get enough of. He didn't even have to be fucking him, just be close to him. In fact, they did more talking and laughing than anything. Mason had an openness about him that was sexy; there was nothing he wouldn't tell David, nothing he seemed self-conscious about.
By Friday, Veronica was putting pressure on him to put dancers to parts so she could start working on publicity.
"It's your company. They're your dancers," he told her. "It's your decision."
"I want your input. You've been working with them. It's your production, and I trust your judgement."
"Then we'll make the decisions together."
Normally, he'd have loved the chance to choose his own cast without the intervention of the artistic director. However, as much as he wanted complete creative control, involving Veronica was the sensible thing to do. Mason's concerns about how the other dancers might treat him were completely valid, and David wanted to do anything he could to make things easier on the young man in case their affair became public knowledge.
Before lunch, Veronica joined him, and they made themselves comfortable as they observed the dancers. David had watched them all carefully during the week's creative workshops, so he knew which dancers were the most flexible and imaginative. Now, he wanted to see how they coped with the set choreography that Andrea was about to teach them.
"What do you think of my dancers so far?" Veronica asked. "Do you have your eye on anyone for the lead roles?"
Yes, he did, but he wasn't sure she'd go for all his decisions. He wouldn't deny his attention had been focused on Mason throughout the week, but not because he was sleeping with the young man; far from it. Christ, Mason had talent, and not just as a dancer. He oozed creativity. Whichever group of dancers he worked with came up with something exceptional, really thinking outside of the box in a way that none of the other groups managed. He knew it was Mason's influence, partly because he'd watched the young man making suggestions and partly because he was the only constant. He was able to fuse ballet steps with elements of physical theatre to create energetic and enigmatic pieces which truly explored whatever characters or themes they'd been set. Each presentation Mason's groups had made had been stunning to watch. By the end of the week, David had been pleased to see that Mason and the redhead, Gemma, had been welcomed by most of the established dancers.
"Your dancers are already in a hierarchy," he said, avoiding Veronica's question.
"Yes, of course, but it's your production. If you want to mix things up, feel free."
Just what he'd wanted to hear.
He'd learned the names of all the dancers over the week and their positions within the company. He also had a folder with all of their photos in, so he could shuffle his casting decisions around. There was a lot of talent in the room, but a few stood out. The two principal dancers, Alan and Cara, were both technically exquisite and emotionally expressive, so it was only natural that they would be given the roles of Oberon and Titania, which were traditionally played by the same actors as Theseus and Hippolyta. But that still left several leading roles and solo spots to fill. And, typically, those roles would be given to the leading soloists first, then the soloists and finally the junior soloists, if there were enough roles to go around. The unranked dancers took the unnamed roles.
They batted ideas back and forth, filling many of the characters with ease. David had kept one back: Puck. He knew Mason was perfect for it. He had been hired as a junior soloist, which was in no way a position reflective of his enormous talent. Unfortunately, that did make it potentially difficult for David to give the young man such a large role, no matter how deserving he was of it. He only hoped that Veronica had been genuine when she'd said that he could 'mix things up'.
At that very moment, Mason was coping with the set choreography as elegantly as he had done the creative work all through the week. He wasn't as technically perfect as Alan, but he was also younger and less experienced, and he made up for it in so many ways. There was a raw e
nergy about him which made him exhausting to watch. His stunning blue eyes blazed brightly with a passion that David had once felt himself. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he found Mason so alluring. He was ardour personified.
"What about Puck?" Veronica asked. "Kirk doesn't have a role yet."
Kirk was the only leading soloist to whom they hadn't assigned a role. He just hadn't been a fit for any of them. He definitely wasn't right for Puck; he was too stern-faced and stiff for such an enigmatic role.
"Mason's a better fit," he said, holding the young man's photo up.
Veronica pursed her lips. She flicked her gaze between the photo and Mason. "You're right," she said at length. "He'd make an excellent Puck."
David's heart felt light.
"But he's only a junior soloist," Veronica mused.
"You said I could mix things up. And you agree he's right for Puck." He held up Kirk's photo beside Mason's. "Better than Kirk?"
"Undeniably," Veronica said. "Junior soloist was the only role we had when Mason applied. I saw his talent and wanted him in the company. I'm just lucky he was happy to settle for the position I could offer him."
Watching them all side by side, David would have put Mason as a leading soloist. Mason was a bloody amazing dancer, and he had no doubt the young man would work his way up to principal dancer someday.
"So, we give Puck to Mason," Veronica confirmed. "But Kirk still needs a solo role."
They'd already decided upon the parts that were of equal or greater weighting. Kirk hadn't seemed to fit any of them. He didn't have the gravitas required for Oberon or the romantic softness required for Lysander. He might have made a good Demetrius, but they'd chosen a dancer who had a much wider emotional range. Even Bottom and Quince had been assigned, and again, Kirk wasn't a good fit for either role. Bottom couldn't be danced by someone with such a stern face. Which left Puck or the lesser players: Flute, Snout, Snug, or Starveling, all comedic roles that Kirk wasn't massively appropriate for. And that worried David. He knew first-hand that jealousy could run very deep where dancers were concerned. It took a lot of drive and determination to make it as a professional dancer, and that often meant they were very competitive. Giving Puck to Mason could make his life difficult if Kirk was the competitive and jealous type. Still, that was no reason to hold Mason back or to give Kirk a role he wouldn't be able to do justice to. They had to do what was best for the production. Kirk was a great dancer, but it was clear he would suit serious roles better, and David had chosen a comedy.
"Kirk could dance Egeus. I think he could pull off the overbearing father, don't you?" David suggested.
Egeus was a minor role at best. Politically, Mason should dance Egeus, and Kirk, Puck, but it would make the production weak. Mason fitted Puck. It was a role he had been born to dance. David half-smiled, thinking of other parts that Mason would be perfect for. Ariel from The Tempest struck him first, and he suddenly found himself inspired to choreograph that next, for whatever company Mason was working with.
"I'm happy with that," Veronica said.
Ideas for choreography were already racing through David's head. Forget the rabbit hole. He wanted to stumble into the enchanted forest and meet the faerie king's aide. He wondered if, once costumes had been designed, Mason would wear his in the bedroom. But those weren't thoughts he should be having at work. So much for being able to keep his work and sex lives separate. He didn't do anything to force them out of his head or even dampen them down. He really had fallen under Mason's spell.
Chapter Nine
Mason
Mason knew his place. He was new to BalletEast and a junior soloist. He was hoping for one of the smaller comedic roles, perhaps Flute. Hopefully Flute. His own general state of excitement was probably quite fitting for that character.
He almost missed his name when Veronica called it. He would have missed his name if Gemma hadn't nudged him in the ribs.
"Puck," she whispered, grinning at him with excitement.
He blinked at her and then stared at Veronica, who stared right back, smiling.
"Don't look so shocked, Mason," she said. "You're our Puck."
He didn't look at David, who was standing beside her. He couldn't decide which emotion was more prevalent within him: shock at being giving a part that should have gone to a lead soloist, or excitement, because, for him, Puck really was a dream role. It meant so much that David believed in him as a dancer. David, whose career had been long, varied, and ridiculously successful. David, who as a choreographer had created performances that had received five-star reviews and standing ovations. David, the man his body literally ached for, who was amazing in the bedroom, and yes, there was a bit of hero worship thrown into the mix as well.
"Happy?" Gemma whispered.
Mason shook himself and plastered a smile on his face. "Yes." He was practically bouncing where he sat. "And surprised."
"You deserve it," she told him. "I might not have much experience, but I know a great dancer when I see one. All week, you've been giving everyone in this room a run for their money. After giving you the cold shoulder, most of them have been clamouring to work with you, because they see how great you are, too."
Mason rubbed at his cheeks, which seemed to be radiating heat. "I'm not that good."
"Don't be so modest," she chastised him.
Was he modest? Mason wasn't entirely sure about that. He knew he was a good dancer. He knew he had talent, and he'd never deny either fact, but 'great' was possibly taking the description of his talents a step too far. He was in a room full of great dancers. There were amazing dancers here, too. Alan and Cara, for example, who were more than deserving of their status as the company's premier dancers. But he was nowhere near their level yet, and he knew he might never be. All he could do was keep working as hard as he could, which was what he strove to do every day. As far as he was concerned, the only person he was in competition with was himself.
"Have a good weekend," Veronica said after she'd finished reading out the cast list. "We'll see you all back here on Monday morning." Then Veronica and David walked out of the rehearsal space together.
Mason stayed where he was, grabbed a jumper from his bag and pulled it on before stretching out his muscles to cool down properly. It would put a dampener on his sex life if he ended up with a cramp. At that thought, he couldn't help but grin. He had a sex life, and it was really, really good. It more than made up for the fact that the other dancers never seemed to want to socialise.
Despite his becoming friendly with Gemma and a few of the other dancers during the day, no one had suggested they do anything together after rehearsals. He had, once, but had been knocked back. The dancers were too tired. They wanted to go take a bath or curl up on the sofa with some good TV. It had been different in Emotion in Motion, because the only place they had to go back to was their hotel rooms. They'd all spent their evenings together, keeping each other company until it was time to go back there and sleep. He missed that sense of camaraderie, of feeling like his company was an extended family.
But, as he kept reminding himself, being a part of BalletEast was a great opportunity. He would make the most of it, and he'd get used to the abrupt change of lifestyle, a change he'd needed because he'd been close to burning out. Besides, spending time with David was definitely helping to keep his loneliness at bay, and once he got to know the other dancers better, he was sure there would be opportunities to go out and have fun with them. In the meantime, he had friends and family on the other end of the phone.
He looked up as a shadow fell over him. Kirk was staring down at him, his thick lips parted slightly. Even at the best of times, Kirk had a very stern face. He had a shallow jaw and a large chin dimple that dominated the lower half of his face. His dark, thick eyebrows framed hooded eyes which always looked like they were narrowed, even when they weren't. As he stared down at Mason, his expression was sour, like he'd trodden in something revolting.
"Who do you think you are?" he aske
d.
Mason glanced around, not because he didn't think Kirk was talking to him, but to see who else was there. Gemma was still close by, talking to a couple of the other women, but most people had cleared out of the rehearsal space while he was lost in thought. Hating being at such a height disadvantage to Kirk, he got to his feet. Standing, they were more evenly matched in terms of height, but in terms of bulk, Kirk won hands down. He was all bulging muscles and broad, sloping shoulders.
"I'm sorry?" Mason asked. He honestly had no idea what Kirk's problem was with him.
"You're a junior," Kirk spat.
Mason still didn't understand.
"I'm a leading soloist. And yet you have Puck, while I have fucking Egeus."
Dread settled in the pit of Mason's stomach. Kirk pushed him hard in the shoulder.
"I didn't ask for the part," Mason said in a quiet, calm tone, but he told himself he'd earned it as Kirk's eyebrows pinched together angrily.
"But you're not turning it down, either, are you?"
And why should he? Didn't he deserve a chance to shine on stage? To show everyone what he was capable of?
He crossed his arms and met Kirk's stare. "No, I'm not."
Kirk sneered at him. "That should be my part."
Mason pressed his lips together. Coming out with a glib response wasn't going to help his case, but clearly, both Veronica and David felt he was better suited to Puck than Kirk was. That wasn't his fault; it hadn't been his choice.
"You think you're all that, don't you?" Kirk demanded.
Mason shook his head. "I've come here to dance, not to cause trouble."
"Then give up the part," Kirk hissed, stepping closer so their chests and noses were practically touching. "A junior soloist shouldn't have a part of that magnitude. You're not going to win any friends here by stealing our parts."
"I didn't—" Mason shook his head.
He doubted Kirk was going to listen to reason, but the truth was, even if he did give up the part, there was a very strong chance it wouldn't be given to Kirk. He'd watched all the other dancers through the week. Kirk was technically very strong, but he was stiff and unimaginative. He wasn't even remotely suited to Puck. But trying to explain any of that would be like beating his own head against a wall. So, rather than getting into a fight, he tried to back away.
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