A Dance For Christmas Read online

  A Dance For Christmas

  A short story by

  Colette Davison

  A Dance For Christmas

  Copyright © 2018 Colette Davison

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Cover Design: Colette Davison

  Edited by: Sarah Chorn and Charlotte Kane

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorised duplication is prohibited.

  The images used in the cover design were licensed from DepositPhotos.

  David

  David loved everything about Christmas: the music; the decorations; gift buying; even the insanity of trailing around overcrowded shops. He'd decorated the house on the first of December, much to Mason's amusement. Bright twinkling lights hung inside and out; there was a wreath made of fir, pinecones, bright red berries and gold ribbons hanging on the front door; he'd bought the largest tree that would fit in the lounge. The latest show he'd choreographed had finished its run two weeks before Christmas and he wasn't due to start work on another until the New Year, giving him time to cook wintry treats and plan an elaborate Christmas dinner. The turkey and trimmings were booked with the butcher and the rest was on order to be picked up just before Christmas Eve. The kitchen smelt of cinnamon, cloves, orange, ginger and mulled wine and he sang along to Christmas carols, whilst he worked on constructing a gingerbread house.

  "Hi!" Mason's voice called out, above the music and David's singing.

  "You're just in time," David called out, without turning away from the slabs of gingerbread. "I've been baking."

  He heard Mason's soft footsteps entering the kitchen.

  "Smells delicious," Mason said, before wrapping his arms around David's waist. "What are you making?"

  "A gingerbread house."

  Mason rested his chin on David's shoulder. "Isn't that the kind of thing you make for kids?"

  David laughed. "I like them."

  "I've never seen you like this."

  "Like what?"

  "Acting like a big kid."

  David twisted round to kiss Mason. "Do you like it?"

  Eyes twinkling, Mason bobbed his head from side to side as though he was debating it. "It's... interesting." The grin on his lips told David the truth.

  David tapped white icing onto Mason's nose, smirking. "Brat."

  Mason laughed, swiped the icing off his nose and then leaned past David and stole a piece of gingerbread. He popped it into his mouth before David could stop him. "This is good."

  David grabbed a tea towel and tried to whip it across Mason's chest, but the younger man moved away with deft speed and leaned against the adjacent counters.

  "I need to ask you a favour," Mason said.

  "Go on," David said, as he returned to the task of using icing to cement the slabs of gingerbread together. Luckily, he'd made spare in case of breakages, so he wasn't too mad that Mason had stolen a bit.

  "You know how we've been working hard on the charity gala?" Mason began.

  David nodded. BalletEast were putting on a one night only performance on Christmas Eve, with all the profits from ticket sales going towards ensuring food, clothing, and blankets were delivered to the homeless on Christmas Day. The dancers were giving their time for free, after their daytime rehearsals for Giselle, which was starting its theatre run in February. As a result, Mason had been coming home much later than usual for the past few weeks. They hadn’t spent much together much to the dismay of both men.

  "I've already got a ticket, if that's what you were going to ask," David said. "I wouldn't miss a chance to see you dance."

  "That wasn't what I was going to ask."

  David turned, forehead furrowed in confusion.

  "We've ended up with an extra space in the programme..." Mason paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he stared intently at David. "I hoped you might help me fill it by dancing with me."

  David's heart skipped. His gut reaction was to say yes. He'd love the chance to dance with Mason. But that was before common sense kicked in. There was no way his dancing would match Mason's; he'd been in retirement for too long.

  "Why do I get the feeling this space was planned?" he asked, his tone bordering on chastisement.

  Mason put on his most innocent, shocked expression. "I don't know what you mean."

  "Of course not," David admonished. "You're a crap liar, Mason." He wasn't angry at all, but he knew Mason had grown to enjoy being told off, much to David’s pleasure.

  Mason grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter. "Believe what you want." He took a large bite, his stare holding David's as he crunched the juicy fruit. "Will you dance with me?"

  He gave David a brilliant, wide smile, that was damn near impossible to resist. If it had been a different request, David would have instantly relented.

  "No."

  Mason's smile vanished. "Why?"

  "I haven't danced professionally in twelve years," David said, a fact Mason was more than aware of. "I doubt I'm even physically fit enough to keep up with you."

  Mason's gaze flicked up and down him. "Believe me, you're fit enough." He took another bite of the apple.

  If it was possible to eat an apple suggestively, Mason managed it, which made the hairs on David's arms rise up as desire warmed his blood.

  "And we'll devise a routine that you can cope with," Mason went on. "A routine that makes you look amazing." He bit into his fruit. "Which won't be hard, because you are a stunning dancer."

  "Was," David said sadly. "I was a good dancer. I'm retired."

  If Mason's smile had been hard to resist, his disappointed pout was even more persuasive. It didn't help that his brilliant blue eyes looked utterly mournful.

  "Mason..."

  Mason discarded the apple on the worktop and bounced up to him. "Just say yes. I know you want to."

  The trouble was, David did want to. Very much so. But he also didn't want to injure himself trying to keep up with Mason. More than that, he didn't want to disappoint his sub. The image Mason had in his head was of David in his thirties, dancing as the prince in Swan Lake. It was his last season and some of his finest work as principle dancer. But he wasn't that man anymore. He didn't have the drive and determination needed to be the best. Furthermore, he was pretty sure he didn't have the energy to rehearse for several hours a day.

  He shook his head, defiant. "I can't."

  Sadness filled Mason's large eyes. "Okay." He turned away, retrieved the apple and wandered off towards the lounge.

  David blinked at the space Mason had been standing in. That was it? Mason was giving up that easily? Mason was one of the most tenacious people he knew; he never gave up. What was he up to?

  He left the part-constructed gingerbread house and followed Mason into the lounge. He wasn't there, but the door to the cellar was open. David smiled and tutted to himself.

  "Naughty boy." He loved it when Mason behaved like a brat; it gave him an excuse to punish him.

  He sauntered down the steps as the first few bars of an upbeat violin rendition of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy began to play. He was already fanaticizing about what he’d do to Mason later. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long before he had his sub in their bedroom, bound and willing to obey his every command, no matter how frustrating or humiliating.

  He leaned against the wall, arms loosely folded, watching as his lover warmed up to the music. His mouth practically watered as Mason stretched his muscles. His hungry stare took in every detail as the
young man eased into box splits and leaned his lithe body to each side, his arm curved over his head. It built his anticipation for watching Mason dance. That was why he’d had the cellar converted into a studio, so his sub could dance just for him.

  When Mason finished warming up, he took a few moments to select a new track—Prokofiev's Troika—and began to dance. He only did a few steps before stopping, restarting the music and trying again, his lips moving soundlessly as he made quick decisions on which steps to include. Whenever his gaze scanned over David, he would grin cheekily, before rapidly turning away. David allowed the game to continue for some time, watching as Mason slowly put the opening seconds of a dance together that was both amusing and captivating to watch. Mason's vibrancy as a dancer never ceased to amaze him. Even executing slow, halting steps as he self-choreographed, his effortless grace left David breathless.

  "It's looking good," David told him. "You're going to fill the slot with a solo?"

  "Do I have a choice?" Mason asked without stopping dancing.

  "You could ask Gemma. Or, if you want to dance with a man, Alan."

  Mason laughed. "Alan's choreographing most of the show. He's not dancing this time. Besides, I want to dance with you."

  David stepped forward and caught hold of his sub, pulling him into an embrace. "I said no."

  Mason looped his arms over David's shoulders, kissing him softly on the lips. "You're really not open to persuasion?"

  David smiled despite himself. "No."

  Mason dropped his arms to his side. "That's a shame." He turned away and paused the music. "Will you at least help me with the choreography?"

  David pursed his lips. He doubted Mason had really given up, but to refuse to help would come across as churlish. "All right. What's your vision for the dance? Do you have a story in mind?"

  Mason's cheeks reddened. "I chose the music just now; give me a break."

  David chuckled. "I liked your start. Having your arms in attitude ordinaré is both strong and interesting. Going straight into from a pirouette into a pas jeté and then immediately into a cabriole shows how physically strong you are." He paused, watching Mason's reaction.

  Mason was nodding thoughtfully, his expression carefully schooled.

  "It’s a strong opening," David went on. "Try to work out what your story is going to be, though."

  "I will."

  "While you're figuring that out, how about another pirouette next?"

  "Like this?" Mason played the music again, running through the opening he'd devised, ending with the pirouette David had requested.

  "Yes, and then pirouette again, in the opposite direction. Then another pas jeté. Keep it slow, in time with the music." As Mason started again, David clicked the beats with his fingers. "Good, then glissade into tour jeté—your leaps are where you really shine—then a series of sissone doublés. Make sure you're fully stretching your feet. Great. Run it again."

  Mason did as he was told, running the same sequence three more times, taking each comment on his form with good grace to improve his performance. Mason's humility was one of the many things David loved about him. It wasn't that Mason didn't know he was a great dancer, he did, but he was also fully aware that he could always improve, and he took criticism better than most.

  They moved on, working together to double the length of the dance.

  "How about a Firebird leap?" David asked, after he'd told Mason to try a barrel leap and decided he didn't like how it fitted with the rest of the dance; it was too showy.

  Mason rested his hands on his hips, catching his breath. "Sorry?"

  David narrowed his eyes. "I know you can do a Firebird Leap."

  "Nope, sorry. It's not a ballet I've ever seen." Mason's lie would have been easier to accept, if he hadn't been grinning whilst he spoke. "You're going to have to show me."

  "I'm not warmed up," David replied dismissively. "And I think we're done for the evening. I'll go make us some food, whilst you cool down and shower."

  "Show me," Mason said, his voice insistent.

  "Mason." David had tried to growl out his lover's name, but his anger was muted by the smile he forced it through.

  "Please?" Mason's expression was so fucking appealing.

  "Fine."

  David took several minutes to warm up his muscles. That done, he started with some simple bar and corner work. His body remembered everything. Each step was like a long-lost friend, welcoming him home, embracing him. He realised at some point that Mason was sitting on the bottom step, watching him intently.

  "Okay," he said, once he felt brave enough to attempt the leap. "Not that you need a demonstration."

  "Why don't you show me from the start?" Mason asked quickly.

  David glowered at him, but did it anyway, ending the sequence they'd devised with the Firebird leap, arching his neck and spine as he brushed his back leg back into attitude, his foot almost touching the back of his head.

  "Stunning!" Mason clapped his hands. "Admit it, you enjoyed that."

  David pulled a face, but didn't contradict Mason's assumption. Discovering that his body was still capable of such strength and grace after twelve years was exhilarating.

  "I like being proved right," Mason smirked.

  David rolled his eyes. "Your turn."

  They switched places. As David watched Mason, he couldn't help imagining himself dancing alongside his lover. He tried to resist, but he found himself mirroring Mason's actions at the other side of the room. Except, when Mason did the Firebird leap, David moved to meet him. As Mason landed, David placed his hands on the young man's hips and lifted him up. He was used to Mason's weight, he'd borne it enough during long, sensual love making sessions. He turned a full rotation, his steps small and precise, before setting Mason down.

  "That would be beautiful," Mason said, breathless. He turned and grasped David's face in his hands, pulling him into a fierce kiss. "Dance with me in the gala?"

  "You planned this all along, didn't you?" David accused, knowing beyond any doubt that he'd been caught in a trap.

  "Will you?" Mason asked. "It's one night, David. One dance. Please."

  "If I say yes, you're going to bounce, aren't you?"

  Mason's eyes sparkled. "Like Tigger on crack."

  David laughed. Ignoring how hard Mason was to resist in that precise moment, his resolve to say no had melted away the moment he’d put his hands around Mason’s hips and lifted him. He wanted to experience the thrill of dancing with his lover on stage, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried that his rusty dance skills would embarrass them both.

  "Say yes,” Mason urged.

  David had no more reasons to say no. He'd proven to both Mason and himself that he was still physically capable and he had time to practise if he put extra hours in whilst Mason was at BalletEast. Besides, the thought of spending hours working in harmony with Mason to choreograph a dance was alluring. That didn't stop him from pausing dramatically for several seconds, watching his lover squirm as he waited for an answer. Just when he thought Mason might pop, he laughed.

  "Yes."

  "Really?" Mason did indeed bounce on the spot several times, glee lighting up his face.

  "Yes," David repeated. "I'll dance with you, just this once."

  *

  Mason

  "I think we're done for tonight," Alan said. "Good work, everyone."

  The dancers broke off into friendship groups and chatted amongst themselves as they cooled down. For the past month, they'd been staying at the studio for an extra two hours—some nights even longer—to prepare for the charity gala. Mason wasn't done when they finished at the studio. Since he'd managed to convince David to dance with him, he'd been putting in another hour or so in their basement studio. Falling into bed exhausted every night was a joy, because it was as a result of doing something he loved.

  Alan had been given artistic control over all the dances that would feature in the char
ity performance, except Mason and David’s grand pas de deux, and the principle dancer seemed to be enjoying every minute of choreographing the evening's entertainment. He was good at it, too. He had an interesting vision that he was able to communicate clearly.

  "You did some great work today," Alan said to Mason, as he crouched down beside him. "Do you think you could get David to come into the studio tomorrow so I can see what the two have you have been working on?"

  "Sure. We've got the full routine sorted now. We're just practising and polishing." Which was a good thing, because there was only a handful of days left before the gala.

  In two days, they would be able to go into the theatre and have a technical run-through, to sort out lighting and sound levels, and then a dress rehearsal. Normally, those jobs would be done over a couple of days, but they were having to squeeze it all in around another show. It was a small inconvenience that was worth it in exchange for not having to pay for the theatre space. The theatre was taking enough from the ticket costs to cover paying their staff, but that was all.

  "I know you'll have come up with something great. David is an amazing choreographer and you're both great dancers, but I need to see where it will fit into the running order before we go into the theatre for the tech runs."

  "We should have shown you the dance before now. I'm sorry."

  Alan waved his hand dismissively. "It's all good. I'm looking forward to seeing it."

  Mason grinned. "I hope you'll be pleased."

  They'd scrapped the original sequence he'd put together and changed the music. Not that Mason minded. Like he'd said, he'd chosen the music on the spur of the moment and had just thrown some moves together. His entire goal that evening had been to get David to realise that he wanted to dance, despite his initial resistance.

  He finished cooling down, grabbed a quick shower and then headed home. A very small part of him was jealous that David had finished work for the year; he hated having to get up and out of the house on cold, dark mornings, whilst David lay sleeping. Of course, there were advantages to David being home, like having dinner prepared for him every evening.