As things are, Jay finds himself occupied, as well. The final dance
tournament of the season is approaching and Jay’s team narrowly managed
to be one of the teams competing. With every training session the
choreography gets more refined, and the decision who in the team is
going to perform at finals and in which position is drawing near. He and
his dance partner book extra lessons with private trainers twice a
week, and he comes home exhausted every time, not sure they are really
improving. As a result of the overall situation, nerves among the team
are frizzled and everyone tries to stay out of everyone else’s way,
least the tension unloads itself into a fight.
It’s during one such nerve-wracking, sweat- and tears-provoking training sessions, that Jay notices someone in an electric wheelchair among the spectators. He spots the familiar shape out of the corners of his eyes, a blurry image swishing past while they complete a complex figure. His partner’s hand almost slips through his fingers while he is supposed to catch her mid-turn, and they stumble half a step, out of rhythm for a split second only. But long enough - the trainer squints at them, clearly disapproving, and Jay cringes. He receives a death glare from Khristina that has him immediately concentrate back on dancing for the following minutes, not daring to sneak another look toward the surprise visitor until the next break.
But once the music stops and the dancers audibly catch their breaths around him, there is nothing that could prevent Jay’s eyes from searching the long edge of the hall, where the few people who came to watch their training are mingling. Jay’s heart does a little jump when he indeed spots Darren among them, far off to the corner, but it is him without fault, straight from work judging from the slacks and the button-down shirt, sitting in his repaired wheelchair. His left arm is lying on the armrest, his right hand writhes slowly in his lap. His legs are clasped together and leaning to the side a little, but not trembling more than usual. All in all, Darren looks as relaxed as he possibly can, seemingly oblivious of the stares that he receives from other visitors and even a few dancers who have spotted him.
“Pay attention, idiot...”
Khristina’s well placed elbow in Jay’s kidney region makes him turn his eyes away from Darren and fix them onto their trainer, who is lecturing the team on hand and head positions, not for the first time. Jay forces himself to at least appear as if he’s listening. Nevertheless, he can’t help but grin like a fool during the grueling rest of training, doesn’t feel his tiring arms and legs and aching joints anymore, knowing Darren’s gaze on him all the time. Only when the trainer finally releases them and his team mates pour out of the hall, some chatting, others moping, does Jay allow his eyes to wander to the edge of the hall again.
“Who is it?” Khristina asks with a knowing smirk, elbowing him as they follow in the wake of the others.
“Huh?” Jay grabs the small towel around his neck tighter and turns his gaze away from Darren who is still parked in his wheelchair at the side lines.
Khristina rolls her eyes at him. “Your new girlfriend! Is it the one with the brown curls or the cutie with the glasses?” She bats her fake eyelashes and grins at Jay’s blush. “Come on, tell me! Who had you space out like that and probably cost us a place in first row?”
Jay bats Khristina’s hands away. “None of your business,” he mumbles, turning his face away. “And I didn’t space out. We were pretty good.”
“Pretty good doesn’t win the tournament,” Khristina declares with some returning seriousness, jogging to overtake Jay. He shrugs and ignores her curious looks back at him as he drops his towel and water bottle somewhere on a bench and veers off shortly before they pass through the exit of the hall, drawn toward Darren like a magnet.
“You came!” Jay can’t remember how many times he invited Darren to come watch him during training and certainly not the number of times Darren found an excuse not to. That he’s here now, finally, means a lot to Jay. “So tell me, what do you—“
Darren’s gaze, as he turns his head to Jay upon his approach, is dark, and there is a hunger in his eyes that makes Jay’s throat run dry. It is echoed by the hunger within Jay himself, kindling a fierce heat behind his navel. Hot and cold waves travel down his back, his hair in his neck prickling. “Uh...” Jay isn’t sure what to do, there are still people in the hall, not only few of them watching.
Darren pushes his left hand into the joystick to make the wheelchair turn around, without acknowledging Jay’s presence or saying a word. It hurries through the wide open doors through which almost everyone in the hall has dissipated by now. Jay follows, jogging to keep up, his mouth like the desert. There doesn’t seem to be a plan behind the route Darren takes, he steers the wheelchair away from the noisy locker rooms, down a deserted corridor with gray blank walls to either side, around a corner, and finally stops, swinging around. Jay, taken by surprise, as good as falls into Darren’s lap.
Their lips crash together and Darren growls hungrily, the sound vibrating through Jay, making him moan into Darren’s mouth, embarrassingly needy. It has been, what? One week? Two?
Darren hooks his quivering hand behind Jay’s neck and pulls him closer, weakly. Scrambling, Jay tries to find purchase on the wheelchair, straddling Darren, and finally grabs the seat’s back behind Darren with both hands. He kisses Darren more eagerly, just as thirsty for more, pressing himself into the heat radiating off the other’s body, as if trying to crawl into Darren. “Missed you,” Jay whispers in between sloppy kisses and feverish touches, his hands trailing down Darren’s jumping shoulders, squeezing seizing muscles. He realizes this statement comes quite late, but he can’t bear Darren’s silence any longer.
Darren growls in answer, his teeth flashing and he pulls Jay up, roughly, and tackles Jay’s chest, sucking on his nipples through the thin material of the sleeveless top Jay is wearing. Jay positively moans, his head falls back and he arches into Darren’s hold, his nipples hardening and throbbing under Darren’s administration. “Darren, fuck...” Dizzy with the sudden rush of arousal, Jay tries to press his palm to the hard-on in his pants but his hand gets swatted away by Darren, without comment. “No, please, Darren...” Jay protests, gasping, his cock painfully hard while Darren does not stop his attack on Jay’s nipples. “Let me, please, Darren... Need to... Hah...” Jay squirms, desperately, trying to press even closer to Darren, rub his front against Darren’s broad chest but it’s impossible with the chair’s armrests blocking his way further in. He cries out in frustration and pain, the material over his nipples soaked through.
“Hold on.” Darren’s low voice is scratchy, and it’s all the notification that Jay receives before the wheelchair jolts forward again, under Darren’s jerking hand, and Jay scrambles for something to hold on to, to prevent slipping off Darren’s lap. The wild ride ends as they enter a small room, an office, wheels screeching on the linoleum floor. The room is sparsely lit, the door was not closed all the way and bangs against the wall as Darren pushes it fully open with his chair.
“Darren...” Jay recognizes the manager’s office, with folders in shelves along the wall and stacks of papers on the desk. “Wait, what if someone...” But Darren has already driven the wheelchair backwards again, effectively closing and blocking the door, his gaze never leaving Jay, daring him.
Jay doesn’t need to hear Darren’s rasped command twice, he slides lower, fumbles to open Darren’s pants and pull out his erect cock. He has Darren’s glistening tip almost between his lips, the masculine scent making him near mad with lust, when Darren growls: “No.” He pulls Jay back up, not by strength but with a jerk of his head. “Want to feel...” He bares his teeth again, a grimace caused by spasms or pain, Jay can’t tell. Darren’s jaw hardens, then he regains control, somewhat. “Pants off,” he hisses.
Jay jumps to follow Darren’s wish, untying and shedding his shoes, squeezing out of the tight pants clinging to him like a second skin and letting them pool on the floor. He feels weird for a moment, naked like this in front of Darren, his hands moving to cover himself. But then he notices the effect he has on the other, the stiff, violently trembling legs, with the crooked feet slipped off the foot rests. The arm, jerking erratically away from Darren’s body, while the other is only held in place by a hand braced against the armrest, so hard the knuckles show white. Darren’s upper body, convulsing, the muscles in his abdomen spasming visibly. And the handsome face, wrecked by grimaces, with Darren’s eyes half-lidded and dark with desire.
“Turn,” Darren grits out, his jaw locked. “Want to feel you... like she felt you.” His words are blurring into each other.
Jay needs a second to process this. He understood Darren without problems, suspects he becomes finally better at it, but he needed a little to get who Darren was referring to. Khristina. Despite everything Jay told Darren about Khristina, Darren is still jealous. Watching them dance must have been torture for Darren, and Jay feels remorse at having him put through this. He should have known what it would be like for Darren, to have to watch him be this close with another person, doing something Darren will never be able to do, not like this.
“Don’t,” Darren grunts, his eyebrows dipping, face hardening. Jay isn’t sure it’s just because he’s impatient, but he decides to read it like that and quickly slides into Darren’s lap again, this time facing forward, following a gesture-like jerk of Darren’s shoulder. Feeling Darren in his back like this is so very different being naked, but Jay isn’t granted time to process because Darren pulls him close with surprising strength, his erect cock poking into Jay’s back, his hot breath tickling in his ear, making tiny hairs on Jay’s cheeks stand on end. “Oh fuck... Darren... Shit, that’s hot.”
Darren’s left hand creeps over Jay’s naked thigh, fingers opening and closing rapidly, groping for Jay’s cock. Darren’s breath is heavy and he nips at Jay’s neck, who shudders and wiggles back, writhing against Darren in search of contact, failing at suppressing low, high-pitches moans. When Darren’s unsure fingers finally close around Jay’s cock, Jay cries out in relief, his head falling back onto Darren’s shoulder. But the short moment of wonder ends too soon, Darren’s hand flits away a second later, both men groaning in frustration.
“Darren, come on... Darren, please, please, again... So good, please...” Jay doesn’t know where the begging comes from but he urgently needs Darren’s touch, needs his hand, relief for his throbbing cock. His hips thrust upward, searching for friction, his cock bobbing between his legs, neglected, dripping. “Damn, Darren, I can’t, please... Ah!” Darren’s cock brushes against Jay’s balls, jostled by Darren’s legs jumping under Jay. The next time Darren’s body jolts, the tip of his cock slides past Jay’s entrance. The angle isn’t right for entering, they didn’t prepare and anyway never talked about it again after that one time, but it almost sends Jay over the edge. He whimpers and cries out, his hands clenched into the armrests of Darren’s chair to prevent himself from touching. He knows he could come within seconds if only... “Please, Darren...”
With an agonized grunt, Darren manages to land his left arm in Jay’s lap again. His hand proves useless, fingers a tight, turned-in fist, but he shoves his arm over Jay’s cock, trapping it against Jay’s belly. Jay recognizes one of Darren’s masturbation techniques, which he used several times during their sessions, whenever his lack of control forced him to abandon regular measures. The arm on Jay’s cock offers satisfying pressure and when Jay moves his hips, and Darren jerks below him in reaction, it creates delicious friction that has both men moan out loud.
There’s a certain determination and concentration to how Darren acts while his body works against him, and Jay can’t help but admire it. Darren’s bad arm has lifted, the hand jittering somewhere on Jay’s eye level, fingers stiff like a claw. His legs move uncontrollably, causing the wheelchair to creek and sway where it’s parked, catapulting his body up in great heaves. Darren’s heavy breath is labored, and he groans with the effort of keeping his other arm fixed over Jay’s cock. And despite it all, Jay can feel Darren’s hard cock jumping under him, sliding along his underside, slick with precome. He pushes back against it once he notices Darren appreciates it, hips gyrating down, causing Darren to growl and his legs to go into even more severe spasms, heaving off the floor, trembling.
It seems impossible that Darren can keep his arm on Jay’s cock while his body runs wild, his ragged breath stopping short for a second, but maybe he couldn’t move his arm even if he wanted to. Still, he tries to talk, voice pressed and words barely understandable. “Jay, damn... Gonna...” Darren’s upper body stretches in one massive act of conscious movement overriding everything else, and he sinks his teeth into Jay’s shoulder. The other howls surprised, thrashing in Darren’s lap with pain and pleasure. With a huge, if random, kick from his legs, Darren’s cock is pushed against Jay one last time before the big guy dissolves into uncontrollable shaking, spending his load between their bodies, groaning loudly.
Once the force of orgasm has run its course, Darren’s body falls pliant, spent, his arm slipping from Jay’s still hard cock. “Darren...” Jay whimpers, teetering on edge, everything too much to bear and not enough at the same time, his shoulder and cock throbbing agonizingly. “Please, Darren. Let me... Can I...?” Darren’s body shudders slightly in answer, his left hand writhing tiredly, and Jay takes it to lead it to his cock, wrapping the now unusual giving fingers around himself and moving Darren’s hand with both of his own. There’s still the tiny tremor in Darren’s fingers and anyway Jay would come at the drop of a hair right now, so it takes only two strokes to make him shoot over their joined hands, while he doubles over in Darren’s lap, gasping and moaning through his release.
“Holy shit...” For a gloriously peaceful moment Jay slumps back against Darren, his whole body buzzing with exhaustion and pure satisfaction. Underneath him, Darren is breathing heavily, chest heaving, body otherwise still, the consistent rhythm strangely intimate. Jay wants to stay like this and let them both recover for as long as they need, but then he hears a noise and sits up, alarmed. “Someone’s coming!”
Darren gives a grunt as answer, not even moving his head, but now Jay is sure he hears footsteps approaching. They can’t be found like this, half-naked, two men having had a go at it in the manager’s office, the mortification would be endless, not to think of the consequences. Jay jumps off Darren’s lap, hurriedly retrieves his discarded clothes and covers himself and then assists Darren, who has positioned the wheelchair around again, facing the door.
Jay peaks into the dim hallway. The sound of someone walking toward them is unmistakable now, but luckily no one is to be seen yet. “Go, go, go,” he whispers, holding the door open for Darren. For an agonizing second Darren is struggling a little, trying to grab the enlarged joystick, his left hand only slowly waking up, but then he steers the wheelchair past Jay, without hitting anything. They both flee into the next side corridor, stopping short just after rounding the corner, the wheelchair’s hum dying, holding their breaths.
Not a second too late. Jay’s trainer comes into view on the other end of the main corridor. He enters the office, appears again after seconds and closes the door, turning the key. Then he walks off in the direction he came from, humming to himself.
“Oh god, thank you, thank you,” Jay exclaims quietly and staggers against Darren, grabbing his shoulder for support because his legs feel like pudding.
The other chuckles. “Luck is with the naughty ones, Jay,” Darren whispers, his eyes sparkling lively in the dim light, searching Jay’s.
Jay shakes his head and rakes trembling fingers through gel-slick hair, stepping away from Darren again. He checks if the bite Darren gave him is bleeding but he doesn’t think it is. The bruise will be concealed by his dance costume, he finds with some relief. “One day someone will see us...” he mumbles, cold dread tickling down his back with the thought.
There’s a pause, then Darren asks: “Would that really be so terrible?”
Jay stares at him, mouth opening and closing. “I could have gotten thrown off the team!” he hisses finally, uncharacteristically vehemently. “So yes, that would be terrible indeed.”
Darren blinks and lowers his head after a moment. “I didn’t
think of that. Sorry.”
Jay doesn’t know what to say, he isn’t sure Darren has ever apologized to him before. He leads the way out of the maze of corridors, the hum of Darren’s wheelchair in his back, successfully ignoring the other meaning of Darren’s question.