Title: Lambada
Author: Plumeria
Rating: PG-13/R
Disclaimer: JKRowling owns Harry Potter. No infringement intended. All I own is 12 HP books, 6 mini snowglobes, 1 T-shirt, 1 Sorting Hat (thanks Jen!), 1 poster, and 2 mugs.
Summary: Draco teaches Harry a new dance. I know the steps sound strange, but trust me -- it's a really sexy dance if you have the right partner. *g*
Feedback: Yes please. Even short notes mean a lot to me. I accept constructive as well as positive remarks.
WARNING: This fic contains SLASH, as in same-sex relationships. If this makes you want to run away screaming, I suggest that you do so now. Don't bother leaving flames -- unless you want me to share them with all my friends so we can have a good laugh. (You think I'm kidding?)
"So, what's this called, again?"
"It's called the Lambada. It was part of some Latin dance craze about ten years ago."
"You're teaching me some fad dance? And a 'has-been' fad at that. How unlike you."
"I think you'll find it still has some merit. And, anyway, it's much more interesting than that lame Macarena you showed me."
"It's not like I had private dance tutors growing up, you know. The Macarena was the only thing I could learn on my own."
"Fine. Point taken. Even if it is still a silly dance." A grin. "But this is different. This is sexy. Here, watch me. Feet about shoulder-width apart. Now shift your weight - right, left, right. Brush your left foot out to the side as you take that final shift to the right. Reverse - left, right, left, brush your right foot to the side."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Nope. This dance is done in place. That's why it's more like a weight shift than an actual step, even if you do pick up your feet slightly."
"And this is supposed to be sexy?"
"Oh yes." He demonstrated a few repetitions. "It's all in the hips."
"It looks like a duck waddling."
Grey eyes rolled heavenward.
"Would it help if I said it was a sexy duck?"
A long-suffering sigh.
"Oh, all right, I'll give it a shot."
"Your enthusiasm is overwhelming. But I have a feeling you might change your mind after you see how close we get to dance." With a grin, he pulled his lover into position.
"What, no rigid frames, no 'this is my space, this is your space' reminders?"
"Not for the Lambada. In fact, you should be even closer than this." The two lithe figures realigned themselves until hips met hips, and nary a piece of parchment would have fit between their torsos.
"Hmmm. You're starting to convince me."
A smirk. "I thought so." A wand flashed out of his pocket and, with a murmured word, the CD began to play.
"Are you sure you can dance to this?"
"Shhh. Listen." They began to move their feet in the prescribed pattern, and he marveled at the way his partner's first awkward steps almost instantly morphed into the sleek movements of the dance. That same innate grace which had allowed his lover to soar through the air the very first time he ever rode a broom had remained with him into adulthood; flying, waltz, swing, tango, and now this - his body was made to move.
"That's it. Close your eyes and feel the rhythm." The murmured encouragement was hardly necessary; it was obvious the man in his arms was already being pulled into the music.
They stayed there for long moments, weight shifting, legs gliding, hips swiveling together in perfect synchrony, until he decided the time had come to introduce a new element. Slowly, he stretched their hands, fingers still twined together, out to their sides, and continued the arc to raise them overhead. Torsos stretched upwards and together, and he could feel the pounding of the other's heart. The green eyes slid open, dark with a growing passion.
"You like?"
"Mmmhmmm"
"Then how about this?" By crossing his partner's hands overhead, he turned the other man around, until they stood front to back, still keeping the rhythm of the dance. Right left right slide, left right left slide. He allowed his own hands to slide down the other's body, slowly tracing a path down upstretched arms, feeling the smooth curve of lats and the slight dip of the waist, finally coming to rest on the hips in front of him. The other pair of hands followed him down and came to rest atop his own; fingers created their own intimacy as they retwined themselves.
As tantalizing as it had been to have their bodies pressed together before, it was somehow all the more electric to be pressed front-to-back now. He pulled his lover's swaying hips roughly against him, trying to dispel whatever molecules might still have separated them. In response, the dark head twisted round, their lips met in a searing kiss and the pattern of the dance was soon broken and forgotten as they got caught up in their own internal rhythm. The beat of their hearts set the new pace, and the final crescendo of music fell as a mere whisper on their ears.
End
Dancing and feedback are two of my most favourite things in the world. I've taken care of the dancing -- won't you please leave me feedback?
