Love on Pointe Omnibus

by Colette Davison

  "I want to." Mason stood and started bouncing from side to side as part of a warm-up routine. "Alan wants you to come to the studio tomorrow, so we can show him the dance. Is that okay?"

  David nodded. "I suppose I can't put it off any longer."

  "Why would you want to?"

  David scratched his chin. "Oh, I don't know, fear of being shown up."

  Mason frowned. "Shown up?"

  David caught hold of him, holding him still. "By you. It's exhausting watching you at times, do you know that?"

  Mason laughed. "So I've been told."

  David caressed Mason's back. "Seriously, you look exhausted. You're working yourself too hard, with these extra rehearsals at the studio and then coming home to do more with me. Take the night off."

  "I'm fine. The charity gala will be over and done in a few days and I have the week off between Christmas and New Year, which is plenty of time to rest." Besides, doing nothing wasn't something Mason enjoyed; he got restless far too easily, he always needed to be on the go.

  "But will you?"

  Mason wrinkled his nose. "I guess that depends."

  "On?"

  "You." He pressed his fingertip against David's chest, in the dip between his breast bones.

  David raised his eyebrows. "You're expecting me to keep you busy?"

  "I'm counting on it." He pressed his lips to David's face, leaving a trail of soft kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

  "Careful," David said. He pulled him closer, resting his hands on his arse. "Or I might have to order you to take the evening off."

  Mason tutted and wagged his finger. "This is my space. You don't call the shots down here."

  "Really?" David caught hold of Mason's wrists and forced them behind his back. "Are you sure about that?"

  Mason caught his lower lip between his teeth. He loved it when David took command; it thrilled him. That didn't mean he was always going to be completely submissive, though. He'd learnt it was more fun if he acted the brat. He raised his chin and gave David a challenging look.

  "Perfectly sure. Are we going to dance?"

  David's eyes twinkled. He was wearing contact lenses, which Mason thought was a shame, because his black, thick rimmed glasses were incredibly sexy.

  "Careful," David warned. "Or I might think you're being naughty." He dipped his mouth to Mason's ear. "And you know what happens when you're contrary."

  "Who? Me?" Mason asked, in his most innocent and shocked voice. "Never."

  He made a show of trying to wriggle free. David tightened his grip, pulling him closer in the process. A shiver of delight snaked down Mason's spine.

  "Oh, you are," David said, his voice dropping to a seductive tone. "You're being very naughty right now."

  Mason pouted. "I'm not being that naughty."

  "Who's in charge?"

  Smiling, Mason looked upwards, pretending to carefully mull over David's question. "Down here? I am," he replied with a wicked grin.

  David chuckled. "You're testing my patience, Mason. Who's. In. Charge?" He enunciated each word clearly, pausing for a fraction of a second between each one. At the same time, he twisted his hands on Mason's wrists.

  Mason gasped from the discomfort. At the same time, a thrill ran through him, making his heart beat furiously in his chest. He trusted David, more than he'd ever trusted anyone else, and he loved the release that David's kinks offered him. The majority of his life was ruled by precision and order; there were times he simply needed to let go and David allowed him to do that in a way that was both emotionally and sexually gratifying.

  "My space, my rules," Mason said, in a quiet but defiant tone. He wanted to push his Dom into punishing him. He needed the release he could only get from being David’s plaything.

  David acted with surprising speed. One second, they were standing chest to chest, the next David had dragged him to the foot of the stairs. He sat down and tipped Mason over his lap. Still holding his wrists with one hand, David used the other to pull Mason's jogging bottoms and pants halfway down his thighs. Mason felt the chill of unheated air against his skin and then the warmth of David's hand, caressing his ass. He knew what was coming next. Ever since he'd shifted his boundaries and given David explicit permission to spank him, it had been one of his lover's preferred methods of punishment. But first, he got to enjoy the pleasure of David's hand massaging his arse and upper thighs, warming and preparing his skin to receive the sharp sting of his hand.

  Mason held his breath as David's hand lifted away from him, bracing himself. The first blow was hard and biting. He winced and his body jolted in response to the pain.

  "I'm in charge," David said, before striking him again, the second blow landing beside the first. "In the bedroom." He slapped Mason again, this time over the top of his thighs, the smack hard enough to make Mason whimper. "In this room." The fourth blow was the hardest yet and Mason's whole body tensed up, before relaxing over David's lap once more. "In every room in this house."

  Mason was subjected to a flurry of strikes after that, none as hard as the fourth had been, and every one of them in a slightly different place. Despite the pain—or maybe because of it—Mason felt a thrill with every blow. He could tell that David was turned on too. He could feel David's erection beneath his prone body.

  David seemed to know the right moment to stop: when Mason's skin was becoming numb to the strikes and it was no longer as painful or thrilling.

  "I fucking love the way your arse is red because of me," David told him. His language always became colourful in these moments. His hand brushed over Mason's skin. "Red and hot and tender, because of me."

  The kisses came next. Soft lips brushing against his skin, which was painfully sensitive after being spanked so hard.

  "Who's in charge?" David asked between kisses.

  "You are," Mason exhaled heavily. His arms were starting to ache from being pinned behind his back for so long and the blood was rushing to his head from laying over David's lap; but those sensations only added to the experience. They helped him surrender. Helped him become completely compliant and submissive.

  "Where?" David demanded.

  "Everywhere."

  "You're not going to forget that?"

  Mason shook his head.

  "We're not rehearsing tonight, are we?"

  "No," Mason whispered. He felt a tug of disappointment, whishing he could have run through their duet at least once that evening. No matter how tired he was, he got a thrill from dancing with his lover. But this wasn’t the time to argue. This was the time to give in and let David take care of him.

  "Good boy." David's hand caressed Mason's arse and thighs for a few moments, long, firm movements that made Mason shiver and whimper with need.

  When he didn't think he could take much more, David released his wrists. His Dom stood, turning Mason over as he went, so he was cradling the younger man in his arms. Mason adored how strong his lover was. He loved being held in those muscular arms. He leaned his head against David's shoulder, enjoying the closeness as he was carried upstairs. He craved the aftercare as much as the punishment.

  David laid him on the sofa, and fully removed the clothing from the lower half of his body. He covered him in the deep red blanket they kept on hand and then kissed Mason's forehead gently.

  "Don't move," he commanded.

  Mason had no intention of moving. He smiled contentedly, despite the residual sting in his arse and thighs. His lover dimmed the lights and lit a pair of votive candles, quickly filling the room with the scent of winter spices. David left the room, returning a few minutes later with a glass jar of salve and two cups of steaming mulled wine. He put the cups on the coffee table.

  "Lay on your stomach."

  Mason obeyed, shivering as David pulled back the blanket to bare his arse again. David warmed a little of the salve by rubbing his palms together and then slowly rubbed it into Mason's smarting skin. His hands were smooth and warm, his motions slow and sensuous. Mason let
out a series of soft murmurs and was rewarded with tender kisses down his spine. He felt like he was turning to jelly. His muscles relaxed fully as he enjoyed David's ministrations. He whimpered out a protest when David stopped.

  "Rest your head on my lap.”

  Mason didn't hesitate to obey. He twisted round and laid down, just as his Dom had asked. David rearranged the blanket, so it covered them both and reached for one of the cups of mulled wine. He sipped it slowly, stroking Mason's hair with his free hand.

  "I worry about you," David admitted. "You always push yourself so hard."

  "I have to."

  David's brow creased. "Just make sure you're taking care of yourself. Your body is your instrument, Mason. You have to take care of it."

  "I know. I will. I am." He stroked David's knee. "I really am okay." He lifted his head, so he could stare into David's brown eyes. "I’m better for taking the night off."

  "I said we weren't rehearsing, that doesn't mean I'm giving you the night off." A wicked smile spread across David's lips. "I've only just begun to toy with you."

  Mason shivered. "I love you."

  "Who's in charge?"

  "You are. Always."

  Chapter Three

  David

  "Superb," Veronica said, clapping her hands. "Not that I'd expect anything less from you, David."

  David smiled. His chest was still heaving from the exertion of preforming the grand pas de deux for Veronica and Alan. He noticed, with relief, that Mason was also breathless and that his skin glistened with sweat. Of course, Mason had been dancing all day, but still.

  "It was great," Alan agreed. He turned to Veronica. "I think the first act should end with their piece. What do you think?"

  "I agree. It'll get everyone thinking about the cause we're raising money for and hopefully they'll be extra generous when we collect donations in the interval." She pursed her lips, turning her attention back to David. "I don't suppose you'd consider coming out of retirement to dance for me next season?"

  David held his hand up, palm facing her. "No. Definitely not."

  "Shame." A smile curved her lips upwards. "Mason, convince him for me, will you? I'm pretty sure he listens to you more than he ever listened to me when we were married."

  Beside David, Mason blushed. He rubbed the back of his neck and twisted the ball of his foot against the sprung floor.

  "I think she's joking," David said softly.

  "I thought you knew me better than that, David," Veronica said. "You should think about it. Have one come back season, a ballet of your choice. Swan Lake, perhaps? I know it was always your favourite. It would be glorious."

  David shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you, Ronnie, but the answer is still no."

  "Fine. Alan, I'll let you share our performance notes with them. I'll be in my office if anyone needs me."

  David grabbed his bottle of water and drank, careful not to gulp the refreshing liquid down too fast.

  "We loved the story," Alan said. "And the adagio is stunning. But we agree that the entreé needs to be a little longer before you join David on the stage, Mason. Give the audience a little longer to connect with David's character and sympathise with his lonely situation." He ran his fingers through his hair, his expression suddenly nervous. "It's just a suggestion."

  "And a good one," David said. "Do you have any ideas for how the opening sequence would go, if we delayed Mason's entrance?"

  With Alan's help, they worked on the opening for the next half hour and then tightened up the coda. By the time they were done, David was exhausted and famished.

  "Let me take you out to dinner," he whispered in Mason's ear, as they cooled down together, gently stretching out their muscles.

  "You ask that like I'm going to say no," Mason chuckled.

  "Oh, I don't know, you might want to take me straight home and devour me." He leaned closer and kissed Mason's neck. "I really like not having to hide our relationship here anymore."

  "Me too, but that doesn't mean we should be fawning all over each other."

  "Spoilsport." He knew Mason was right, but that wasn't going to stop him from teasing his lover. "Most people have gone, anyway. There's no harm." He snaked his hand onto Mason's lap, stroking his groin.

  "David," Mason hissed. His cheeks lit up again.

  David laughed and moved his hand. "How about the Italian place down the road?" he asked, nonchalantly, as though he hadn't just embarrassed the hell out of his lover. He was a little disappointed that Mason had only snapped out his name, rather than a colourful expletive. His quest to get Mason to swear seemed never-ending.

  Mason breathed out slowly. His cheeks lost a little of their bright hue. "Sounds great."

  After stopping at Veronica's office to say goodbye, they wandered down to the Italian restaurant that David had suggested. They chatted about how the rehearsal had gone as they waited for their food, the atmosphere between them characteristically easy. Despite that, David could tell Mason had something on his mind by the way he failed to make eye contact.

  "Is something wrong? Are you mad at me for making a pass at you at the dance studio?" He'd done it in fun and hoped he hadn't pushed too far. Mason wasn't quite as carefree as people often took him to be.

  Mason shook his head. "It's not that."

  "Then what is it?"

  "Would you consider dancing again?"

  "I am. With you."

  Mason looked him in the eyes. "No, I mean a proper production. Taking the lead role again."

  "I'm not sure that's what Veronica was suggesting—"

  "It was," Mason interjected.

  "She already has a principle dancer—Alan. I'm pretty sure he'd have something to say if I waltzed in and took his spot for a season."

  Mason shrugged. "Maybe. He's pretty easy going. Besides, he's really getting into choreography at the moment. Maybe she'd have him co-direct with her."

  David sighed. "I'm too old, Mason. I agreed to do this one dance because you asked. I don't think I could cope with hours and hours of rigorous rehearsals long term."

  Mason nodded, but his lips remained downturned.

  "You're disappointed?"

  "I just..." Mason rolled his eyes upwards, towards the ceiling. "I saw you dance once and it literally changed my life. You've been my idol since I was twelve. I wish I'd had the chance to see you dance more times. Maybe if I'd realised how amazing ballet was when I was younger, I might have. But I discovered ballet, and you, just as you were retiring. I wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for you. Everything I have, everything I am is because I saw you dance that night."

  "I'm not sure that's true, Mason."

  "It is." Mason squeezed his eyes shut. His face took on a serene expression, as though he were remembering that first ballet he'd seen. "You inspired me, David. You still do. You always will."

  "I didn't take the decision to retire lightly," David told him. "It was the right time. I've never regretted it, not once."

  Mason opened his eyes. "How did you know?"

  "That it was the right time?"

  Mason nodded.

  "I was getting injured more and more. Performing on stage didn't thrill me in quite the same way it once had. I was getting tired. The never-ending rehearsals were wearing me down. I decided I wanted to be in control of how my career ended, rather than pushing myself to the point where a serious injury forced me out." He squeezed Mason's knee. "You are several years away from worrying about making that sort of decision."

  "That's not..." Mason shook his head. "This isn't about me, David. It's about you getting to do what you love again."

  "I love choreography," David said. "Perhaps even more than I loved dancing. I am very happy with my life right now." He stroked Mason's jaw with his thumb. "We'll have this beautiful dance that we've created. I don't need to relive my glory days to be insanely happy. This dance is enough for me. I hope it's enough for you."

  Mason stared at him and David found himself holding his breat
h. He wasn't sure why Mason's reaction mattered so much, but it did. Most of the time, the gap in their ages felt like an irrelevance, but in that moment, sitting and waiting for Mason to speak, it felt like there was a gulf between them. He worried that Mason wouldn't understand why he would never return to professional dancing.

  "Yes," Mason said eventually. "It's enough." He smiled faintly. "It was just wishful thinking that I might get to see you perform on stage again."

  "You will. On Christmas Eve."

  "It's not the same. I won't be sat in the audience. I won't get to take it all in."

  "Which is why it'll be better than watching. You'll be dancing alongside me. I couldn't ask for a better swan song than that. Thank you." David smiled at his lover.

  Mason blinked, his eyes almost unnaturally bright and blue under the dim restaurant light. "For what?"

  "For persuading me to dance with you. You were right, I did want to. But I was afraid. You forced me to face that fear and, in doing so, you've enabled me to do something I love one last time. You talk a lot about how I inspired you, but you inspire me, Mason. Every. Single. Day." He shuffled closer, feeling the gap between them close again. "I know you inspire everyone who watches you dance and you will for many years to come."

  "That wasn't—"

  David kissed him, silencing him. "I know. But you need to hear it. You don't need to prove anything, Mason. You don't need to push yourself to breaking point. You are one of the most talented dancers I have ever known. You will do amazing things on stage, just give it time. You're young. You have a long career ahead of you. Believe in yourself. I do."

  Mason's eyes danced with tears, which made them even brighter. "Thank you," he whispered. He knocked his forehead gently against David's. "Thank you."

  Chapter Four

  David

  David had forgotten the anxiety that crawled through him before performing, igniting every muscle and sinew in his body. For once, he was the one bouncing. He'd warmed up far too early and now, stuck in the wings watching the dances before his and Mason's, he was trying to keep his body moving and also stop his nerves from getting the best of him. It was ridiculous, really. How many shows had he danced in? How many of those had he been the principle dancer? How many more had he watched as the choreographer? But this was different. Eyes would be on him, expecting amazing things. Expecting him to perform to the same standard as he had twelve years earlier. But more than that, the dance meant everything to Mason and he didn't want to give his lover any reason to be disappointed.