Dancing in the Heat

The community center smelled like old linoleum and lemon-scented cleaner, the kind of place where the air conditioning always fought a losing battle against the Florida humidity. I adjusted the waistband of my slacks—new, stiff, still holding the crease from the store—and tried not to stare at the way your skirt swished around your thighs as you demonstrated the box step. The other students paired off, murmuring and laughing, but I stood there like a mannequin in a department store window, waiting for someone to notice I was still available.

Then you turned, your dark eyes scanning the room, and I swear the temperature jumped ten degrees.

“Elric,” you said, and my name sounded like a secret between us. “Linda’s out sick tonight. You’re the most experienced here—mind if I step in?”

I swallowed. “I’d be honored.”

You smirked, just a little, like you knew exactly what you were doing to me. “Good. Try not to lead me into a wall.”

The first notes of the waltz curled through the speakers, rich and slow. You stepped into my arms, one hand resting on my shoulder, the other slipping into mine. Your palm was warm, your fingers calloused in a way that made me think of holding something far more intimate than a dance partner. I placed my hand on the small of your back, feeling the heat of your skin through the thin fabric of your top, and pulled you just a little closer than necessary.

“Relax,” you murmured, but your voice was tighter than it had been a second ago. “You’re stiff as a board.”

“Can’t imagine why,” I said, spinning you out and reeling you back in. Your skirt flared, giving me a glimpse of toned thighs wrapped in sheer tights, and I nearly missed the next step.

You laughed, low and knowing. “Focus, Professor.”

“Retired,” I corrected, guiding you through a turn. “And I *am* focused.”

Your breath hitched as I dipped you, my hand sliding down to cup the curve of your ass for just a second before pulling you back up. Your body pressed against mine, all softness and strength, and I could feel the way your nipples hardened against my chest.

“Elric,” you warned, but there was no real heat in it.

“Heather,” I mimicked, spinning you again. This time, when you came back, I didn’t let you go. My fingers traced the line of your spine, dipping beneath the hem of your top to brush bare skin. You shivered.

“You’re playing with fire,” you said, but your hips swayed closer, grinding against me in a way that had nothing to do with the waltz.

“I’ve been cold for a long time,” I murmured into your ear. “I think I like the burn.”

The music swelled, and you pulled back just enough to look at me, your lips parted, your chest rising and falling faster than it should have. The other dancers had stopped, their eyes on us, but neither of us cared.

“Class is over,” you said suddenly, stepping away. The loss of your body against mine was almost painful. “But I could use some help putting away the sound system.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

---

The community center was empty now, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like a swarm of lazy bees. You led me to the storage closet, your hips swaying with every step, and I followed like a man hypnotized. The door clicked shut behind us, and suddenly the air was thick, charged with something electric.

You turned to face me, your back against the shelves, and crossed your arms. “You’re trouble, Elric.”

“Am I?” I stepped closer, caging you in with my arms. The scent of your perfume—something floral and dark—filled my lungs. “Or am I just a man who knows what he wants?”

“And what’s that?” Your voice was a challenge.

I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I cupped your face in my hands and kissed you, slow and deep, my tongue sliding against yours like we had all the time in the world. You moaned into my mouth, your hands gripping my shirt, pulling me closer. I could feel the heat of you through my slacks, the way your body arched into mine like it was made to fit against me.

When I pulled back, your lips were swollen, your eyes heavy-lidded. “Fuck,” you breathed.

“That’s the plan,” I said, grinning.

You laughed, but it turned into a gasp as I dropped to my knees in front of you. My hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher, higher, until the tights underneath were the only thing left between me and paradise. I hooked my fingers into the waistband and tugged, peeling them down your legs, taking your panties with them. You stepped out of them, kicking them aside, and I didn’t waste a second.

I buried my face between your thighs, my tongue finding your clit with unerring precision. You cried out, your hands flying to my hair, gripping tight as I licked and sucked, my fingers teasing at your entrance. You were already wet, soaking my chin, your thighs trembling as I worked you over.

“Elric—oh god—*fuck*—” Your words dissolved into a whimper as I slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right. Your pussy clenched around me, hot and tight, and I groaned against your clit, the vibrations making you shudder.

“You taste like sin,” I murmured, pulling back just enough to look up at you. Your chest was heaving, your nipples hard points against the fabric of your top. “I could eat you out all night.”

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your hips rolling against my face. “Please, don’t stop.”

I didn’t. I licked and sucked and fingered you until your legs were shaking, until your breath came in ragged gasps, until you were right on the edge. Then I pulled back, my fingers still buried inside you, and looked up at you with a smirk.

“Not yet,” I said. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

You whimpered, but you didn’t argue. I stood, pulling you into another kiss, letting you taste yourself on my lips. My hands went to my belt, undoing it with quick, practiced movements, and then my slacks were on the floor, my boxers following close behind. My dick sprang free, hard and aching, and you reached for it without hesitation, your fingers wrapping around the shaft.

“Fuck, Heather,” I groaned as you stroked me, your thumb swiping over the tip, spreading the pre-cum there. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not before I get what I want,” you said, your voice husky. You pushed me back against the shelves, the metal cool against my skin, and dropped to your knees in front of me.

I hissed as your lips wrapped around the head of my cock, your tongue swirling around the sensitive underside. You took me deeper, your hand working the base of my shaft, your mouth hot and wet and *perfect*. I tangled my fingers in your hair, guiding you, but not forcing—never forcing. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard, and I could feel my balls tightening, the pleasure coiling tight in my gut.

“Heather,” I warned, my voice strained. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna come in that pretty mouth of yours.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at me, your lips swollen and glistening. “Maybe I want you to.”

I groaned, but I didn’t last another second. With a growl, I pulled you up, spinning us so your back was against the shelves, and lifted you. Your legs wrapped around my waist, your pussy hot and wet against my cock, and I didn’t hesitate. I lined myself up and thrust inside you in one smooth motion.

You cried out, your nails digging into my shoulders as I filled you, stretching you open. I gave you a second to adjust, my forehead pressed against yours, our breath mingling, before I started to move. I fucked you hard and deep, the shelves rattling behind you with every thrust, your moans filling the small space.

“Elric—*fuck*—yes—” You clung to me, your body rocking with mine, your pussy clenching around my cock like it never wanted to let me go. I could feel the pleasure building, the pressure in my balls growing with every snap of my hips.

“Come for me,” I growled, my hand slipping between us to rub your clit. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

You threw your head back, your body trembling as the orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy milked me, pulsing around my shaft, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. With a groan, I buried myself deep and came, my cock twitching as I filled you, my cum spilling inside you in hot, thick spurts.

We stayed like that for a long moment, our bodies still joined, our breath ragged. Then you laughed, soft and breathless, and pressed a kiss to my jaw.

“Well,” you said, your voice teasing. “I guess I *do* need help with the sound system.”

I barked out a laugh, pulling back to look at you. “You’re a menace, Heather.”

“And you love it,” you said, grinning.

I did. God help me, I really did.