Prompt: Dance
Penelope Garcia hated to dance, mostly because she was no good at it. Fast or slow, improvised or planned out she was just never good. Her first and only childhood tap class had ended with her on her ass and her tap through the glass window of the studio.
Unfortunately, for her Derek seemed to think he was some kind of magician who would be able to teach her to dance.
They'd worked for weeks, practicing their moves in his big kitchen, or in her tiny living room, furniture shoved to the side so they had enough room to move.
She didn't really mind since they were alone and the act of dancing close, pressing against each other, usually led to some wonderfully hot lovemaking.
She should have realized that he'd want her to show off her skills at some point, but she had never expected this.
He'd entered them into an amateur dance competition.
An amateur irumba/i competition.
"I'm sorry," she said as he pinned a number on her back, "How is my abject humiliation supposed to be romantic."
"You aren't going to be humiliated, gorgeous. We've been practicing for a month, Pen, you are good. Trust me."
"If I fall on my face, or my ass, you will not be getting laid for a very, very long time. My couch will be taking on the shape of your body because you will be sleeping there every night."
"Now, you know I wouldn't risk that," he said as he pulled her onto the floor, "Just relax and pretend we're at home. Be your sexy, hot mama self and dance with me."
She sighed, closed her eyes, and did just that. She ignored the people around her and just listened to the music, just felt Derek's body against her. She moved, tried not to fall, and waited for the music to be over.
At some point though, she really started to enjoy herself. It was almost like they were at home, the two of them moving together, enjoying each other. A dance that would eventually end in the bedroom. She pressed her body against his and rolled her hips to the music. His hands settled on the curve of them, helping her gyrate.
Then the music slowed, finally coming to a stop. Derek was smiling at her as they waited for the results.
She held her breath as the announcer came to the stage. Suddenly she was excited about this; she felt like she'd actually done well at it and the joy coursing through her was amazing.
There was only one thing that could make it perfect. The announcer began to speak.
&
"Second. I got second," Penelope said, holding the trophy up to Derek's face, "Second."
"I know, baby girl," he said, smiling widely and laughing at her enthusiasm, "I was there."
"Second," she said again, "In a dance competition…dance. I danced in front of people and I was….I was hot."'
"You," he said, pulling her closer, "are always hot."
She smiled, "Thank you, and thank you for making me do this."
He smiled, "One day, Penelope, you're going to see yourself the way I see you and then you won't have to thank me for anything."'
She kissed him softly, "I'll still thank you for loving me."
"Back at ya, babe."
She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the car, "Now, let's go home so I can thank you in that black, silky thing you like."
Derek groaned, "Now, that's my kind of thank you."