White Collar RPS - A Solitary Tango
Sep. 23rd, 2011 08:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elrhiarhodanTitle: A Solitary Tango
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Rating: R
Characters/Pairing: Tim DeKay, Matt Bomer, Tim/Matt
Fandom: White Collar, White Collar RPS
Spoilers: S3.05 - Veiled Threat
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Men Dancing
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: Tim practices the tango and Matt decides to join it. Originally written for Promptfest VI - forcoffeethyme4me’s prompt - Tango.
______________________
The dance studio was semi-dark, the lights from the New York City skyline reflecting in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, interrupted only by the waist-high barre. It was enough. Tim striped off his button-down and pulled on a tight-fitting t-shirt. He changed from the clunky, thick-soled “Agent Peter Burke” brogues into shoes more suitable for practicing the tango.
He liked to dance - it appealed to the athlete in him. He knew he was even a little bit goofy about it, learning all of his daughter’s dance routines, using the classical ballet positions to warm up for the innumerable walk-and-talks. But the tango - that was something a little out of his league. Why Jeff hadn’t called for a waltz - something he excelled at - for this episode was fairly obvious. Showcasing a character doing something completely unexpected - like having Neal assemble a high-powered handgun, or Mozzie doing a gunslap - was fast becoming a hallmark of the show. So it was his, or rather Peter’s turn.
He had taken tango lessons as soon as Jeff had told him that he’d have to do one for the fifth episode of the season, that was in early February, before they had started shooting. He had been practicing and yesterday, he had his first rehersal with Madchen - for the blocking. It hadn’t gone too well. Tim had learned a typical ballroom tango, but scene called for something more exotic, more sensual - a variation on the traditional Argentine dance. Lots more legwork. He had worked with the choreographer for a few hours this morning, but this was the first time he had a chance to practice the new moves.
He set his iPod into the studio’s sound system and pressed the play button. The wails of the gypsy-like violins and aggressive piano filled the space. He walked off a few measures, trying not to feel silly, pretending to hold onto a woman that wasn’t there.
Tim knew that the scene as aired would be no more than a minute, substantially less than even the quickest tango - but they were going to tape the whole dance and cut it down to the best parts. A few lifts, some fancy footwork, that would be it. But still, he was a perfectionist, and if he was supposed to be a ninja-tango expert, he wasn’t going to look like he was faking it.
The song ended and went into repeat, and Tim walked through the moves again. And again. As he was finishing up the fourth go-around, just as he was getting into the groove, a slow roll of clapping interrupted him.
“You know, Tim - it’s said that the tango was originally a dance for two men.”
Matt stepped out of the shadows, a wicked grin on his face, hips loose, his walk temptation personified.
“You know, Matt - I’ve seen those videos too. In fact, we watched them together if I recall.”
Matt stepped onto the dance floor, unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it aside with a flourish. He wasn’t barechested; a sleeveless ‘beater clung to his torso like a second skin. Even in the half-light, Tim could see the dark coins of Matt’s nipples, slightly puckered by the room’s air conditioning.
Tim licked his lips, and was rewarded by Matt’s wolfish smile. They continued to circle each other, arms at their sides, but always facing each other. Their steps were carefully in time with the music, drawing closer with each pass.
“You know, you’re going to get into trouble if you don’t stop that.” Tim knew just what the little shit was doing.
Matt didn’t say anything. Whether it was serendipity or just perfect timing, the music restarted just as they came chest-to-chest. Matt held out his right arm and Tim hauled him close, wrapping his own righ arm around the other man’s trim waist. He lifted his left hand high and held Matt close.
It was a power struggle of a dance - Matt refusing to fall into a traditional gender role, Tim refusing to allow Matt to take the slightest bit of the lead. But all the same, the dance was a graceful exercise, their footwork as perfectly in sync with their bodies as on-camera dialogue.
“When did you learn to tango, Bomer?” Tim’s lips were just a few inches from Matt’s ear as he pushed him into a dip.
“I thought it might be fun - Simon suggested lessons after we found out you had to dance for this episode.”
“Simon did, eh?” Tim bit Matt’s earlobe and was delighted when Matt shuddered in his arms.
“Yeah - I have such an understanding husband.”
He held Matt tighter. “About as understanding as my wife.” They were both getting aroused, and he didn’t bother to stop Matt from rubbing himself against his thigh - in time with the music.
They kept spinning through the moves effortlessly. It was like making love, brutal, savage - very much the way they came together in the first place, clothes on, grinding against each other, breathless, battling for power and position. But this was without the guilt, without the fear.
Tim let Matt’s fingers slip, so that he was grasping his wrist. The skin was hot and smooth, and as he pulled Matt into the far corner of the room, he felt his pulse go wild. Despite the insanity of this relationship, Tim was still a cautious man. If he was going to fuck Matty here in the studio, he wasn’t going to do it where anyone could see.
Which was a pity, because he’s have loved to screw Matt senseless against the barre, against the mirrors, watching that tight ass take his cock by the light of the city at night. Maybe he should invest in some waterfront property. Maybe a loft in Vinegar Hill.
Author:
elrhiarhodanRating: R
Characters/Pairing: Tim DeKay, Matt Bomer, Tim/Matt
Fandom: White Collar, White Collar RPS
Spoilers: S3.05 - Veiled Threat
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Men Dancing
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: Tim practices the tango and Matt decides to join it. Originally written for Promptfest VI - for
coffeethyme4me’s prompt - Tango. The dance studio was semi-dark, the lights from the New York City skyline reflecting in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, interrupted only by the waist-high barre. It was enough. Tim striped off his button-down and pulled on a tight-fitting t-shirt. He changed from the clunky, thick-soled “Agent Peter Burke” brogues into shoes more suitable for practicing the tango.
He liked to dance - it appealed to the athlete in him. He knew he was even a little bit goofy about it, learning all of his daughter’s dance routines, using the classical ballet positions to warm up for the innumerable walk-and-talks. But the tango - that was something a little out of his league. Why Jeff hadn’t called for a waltz - something he excelled at - for this episode was fairly obvious. Showcasing a character doing something completely unexpected - like having Neal assemble a high-powered handgun, or Mozzie doing a gunslap - was fast becoming a hallmark of the show. So it was his, or rather Peter’s turn.
He had taken tango lessons as soon as Jeff had told him that he’d have to do one for the fifth episode of the season, that was in early February, before they had started shooting. He had been practicing and yesterday, he had his first rehersal with Madchen - for the blocking. It hadn’t gone too well. Tim had learned a typical ballroom tango, but scene called for something more exotic, more sensual - a variation on the traditional Argentine dance. Lots more legwork. He had worked with the choreographer for a few hours this morning, but this was the first time he had a chance to practice the new moves.
He set his iPod into the studio’s sound system and pressed the play button. The wails of the gypsy-like violins and aggressive piano filled the space. He walked off a few measures, trying not to feel silly, pretending to hold onto a woman that wasn’t there.
Tim knew that the scene as aired would be no more than a minute, substantially less than even the quickest tango - but they were going to tape the whole dance and cut it down to the best parts. A few lifts, some fancy footwork, that would be it. But still, he was a perfectionist, and if he was supposed to be a ninja-tango expert, he wasn’t going to look like he was faking it.
The song ended and went into repeat, and Tim walked through the moves again. And again. As he was finishing up the fourth go-around, just as he was getting into the groove, a slow roll of clapping interrupted him.
“You know, Tim - it’s said that the tango was originally a dance for two men.”
Matt stepped out of the shadows, a wicked grin on his face, hips loose, his walk temptation personified.
“You know, Matt - I’ve seen those videos too. In fact, we watched them together if I recall.”
Matt stepped onto the dance floor, unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it aside with a flourish. He wasn’t barechested; a sleeveless ‘beater clung to his torso like a second skin. Even in the half-light, Tim could see the dark coins of Matt’s nipples, slightly puckered by the room’s air conditioning.
Tim licked his lips, and was rewarded by Matt’s wolfish smile. They continued to circle each other, arms at their sides, but always facing each other. Their steps were carefully in time with the music, drawing closer with each pass.
“You know, you’re going to get into trouble if you don’t stop that.” Tim knew just what the little shit was doing.
Matt didn’t say anything. Whether it was serendipity or just perfect timing, the music restarted just as they came chest-to-chest. Matt held out his right arm and Tim hauled him close, wrapping his own righ arm around the other man’s trim waist. He lifted his left hand high and held Matt close.
It was a power struggle of a dance - Matt refusing to fall into a traditional gender role, Tim refusing to allow Matt to take the slightest bit of the lead. But all the same, the dance was a graceful exercise, their footwork as perfectly in sync with their bodies as on-camera dialogue.
“When did you learn to tango, Bomer?” Tim’s lips were just a few inches from Matt’s ear as he pushed him into a dip.
“I thought it might be fun - Simon suggested lessons after we found out you had to dance for this episode.”
“Simon did, eh?” Tim bit Matt’s earlobe and was delighted when Matt shuddered in his arms.
“Yeah - I have such an understanding husband.”
He held Matt tighter. “About as understanding as my wife.” They were both getting aroused, and he didn’t bother to stop Matt from rubbing himself against his thigh - in time with the music.
They kept spinning through the moves effortlessly. It was like making love, brutal, savage - very much the way they came together in the first place, clothes on, grinding against each other, breathless, battling for power and position. But this was without the guilt, without the fear.
Tim let Matt’s fingers slip, so that he was grasping his wrist. The skin was hot and smooth, and as he pulled Matt into the far corner of the room, he felt his pulse go wild. Despite the insanity of this relationship, Tim was still a cautious man. If he was going to fuck Matty here in the studio, he wasn’t going to do it where anyone could see.
Which was a pity, because he’s have loved to screw Matt senseless against the barre, against the mirrors, watching that tight ass take his cock by the light of the city at night. Maybe he should invest in some waterfront property. Maybe a loft in Vinegar Hill.
