Dancers, fortunately or not, must find alternate ways to provide each other succor.
This was written at the request of one of my patreons, Ceri! Thank you Ceri!! >:o Find out more about it (and my other writings) here!
you can also read this over at Archive of our Own!
Lene groaned as Ninian lowered each of her feet into the bucket of heated water. “They don’t understand at all.”
“Isn’t that right?” Ninian giggled, strong fingers digging into Lene’s arches and ankles, massaging them affectionately. “Day in day out it’s, ‘we need a dancer over here!’ or ‘Ninian, right flank, on the double!’”
Toes wriggled against the tickle of the effervescent bubbles of the herbal remedy Ninian had added to the water. “And when the day’s done, and they’re all as refreshed as the day they were born, and bouncing against each other like babes at play the whole way home, does even a single one of them notice we dancers, limping forty paces behind the caravan?
“Of course not!” Ninian replied.
“Of course not!” Lene chorused, falling back against the bed. The silken sheets were absolutely wonderful, even as they clung to her sweaty skin. “Just once, it’d be nice to have one of them offer to take care of us, instead of the other way around…” Ninian’s thumbs ground into the sore, overstimulated muscles of her calves, and Lene yelped, startled from her reverie.
“No…” Lene drawled, mindlessly. “Perrrrfect…”
Her fingers swept through the sheets. Her cheek squashed down into the mattress. The water felt hot enough to scald, especially in this summer heat that had them strip down to their birthday suits the moment they’d crossed the threshold of their chambers, but who cared? Having a woman like Ninian work you over after a long day performing was every dancer’s dream. Ninian moved up, applying her powerful touch to Lene’s thighs and Lene shuddered out her pleasure at her Ninian’s firm ministrations. “Oh, Ninian, this feels amaaaaazing…”
Through a barely contained snort of mirth, Ninian replied, “I can see that.”
“Hm?” Lene shuffled up on her elbows to peer at Ninian. “What do you mean?”
And, offered a full view of her own nude body, she couldn’t help but notice how—
“Well…” She blushed, ducking her head and pointedly looking away from the bob of her suddenly hard cock. “C-can you blame me?”
“Blame?” Ninian asked, voice softer than the nighttime creak of the summer insects outside their window. “That’s a funny word for it.”
But, propping herself up on her elbows, Lene could only watch as…
Ninian squeezed her breasts together, offering a glittering show in the candlelight, as a long bead of saliva slipped past her lips, pooling into the her cleavage. Lene’s knees began to jerk with the shiver of her hips. Not very graceful, but she was exhausted, and her mind was far past the point of grace . Her mind was past the point of anything , but watching Ninian’s fingers spread that slick promise against her own skin.
When she was done, Ninian pressed fingers against Lene’s lips. She ducked her head, as if shy, as Lene’s tongue dutifully wet them. Slickened fingers displayed themselves for Lene’s approval. Her hand closed around Lene’s cock. A fireball burst inside Lene’s stomach at the reaction of their flesh, but Ninian stifled her gasp with the press of a single finger against Lene’s lips.
“Come here,” she said, softly.
She inclined her body, her breasts fell against Lene’s thighs, and with a ripple of her fingers, she drew Lene into her waiting bosom.
Lene, overcome, could do nothing but stick her thumb in her mouth and bite down, hard, as Ninian’s breasts embraced her. Her mind was lost to the sweet sensation of soft, generous flesh around her cock, and her body ably moved to meet Ninian’s slow rhythm. A dancer’s gift might not empower and refresh other dancers, but that did not make it useless.
Patient, and cautious, and better than any metronome, she guided Lene. The first beat of the measure, a retreat, a pulling away. The second, a pause at the nadir, the subtle shifting of bodies against one another, a soft coo from Ninan to match the ragged pant of Lene’s. The third, the ripple of Ninian’s breasts as Lene drove upwards. And the fourth, the teasing imprint of a kiss upon Lene’s cock at the apex of its thrust.
It was a strange sort of pas de deux they shared. Ninian on her knees, needing nothing more that the soft embrace of her breasts and the sublime roll of her back to pace Lene’s overeager thrusts. and Lene whimpering through clenched teeth, laced fingers against the back of Ninian’s neck to countervail each vigorous thrust, praying each second just to live until the next one passed, until she felt the heated kiss of Ninian’s lips upon her crown once more.
She began to wheeze, her stomach tense and hard. Her hips juttered erratically, and sputtering breath followed every incautious thrust. She drove herself against the valley of Ninian’s breasts, desperate for each slick gift of pressure and warmth that awaited the tip of her cock at the apex of each thrust.
“Ninian!” Lene whispered, taking great fistfuls of her long blue hair. “Nin—!”
Ninian was perceptive—dancers were nothing if not solicitous to the needs of others—and at the first chime of her name past Lene’s lips, her own closed around the tip of Lene’s cock. Her hands fell from her breasts, scooping underneath Lene’s sack, coaxing it gently, her fingertips slinking deeper, gracing across Lene’s entrance.
Just the suggestion was enough to spark a staccato cry from Lene. At Ninian’s command, her body unleashed itself—its tensions, its anxiety, its aches, into Ninian’s waiting mouth.
They lay together in silence for a while, once it was over, in loose embrace, counting each other’s breaths, and luxuriating in the summer heat radiating from the stone walls. Gazing into her lover’s eyes, Ninian squeezed her thighs against the ache she’d finally noticed weaving its surreptitious tendrils through her core muscles.
“It’s a shame our dances don’t work on one another. Otherwise…” Her fingers swept simple patterns through the pebbles of sweat decorating Lene’s soft skin. “I might ask you to…” She shared a long gaze with Lene, moistening her lips. Her touch snuck downward… “Go—”
Ninian tilted her head, breath caught in her lungs. Her teasing touch alighted on Lene’s cock and found it, somehow, already hard.
Lene’s glazed eyes grew suddenly rapt. A cavernous grin spread across her lips. “Again?”