Closed Change – Part 1/3Author: kat_lair
& pushkin666 Fandom:
RPS, Strictly Come Dancing (UK)Pairing/Category:
Bruno Tonioli/Craig Revel Horwood, angsty first-time pornRating:
This is not a real story about real people. This is a fictional
story about fictional representations
of real people. Note the difference. None of the events described herein are true. No disrespect is meant and no profit made. Summary: He hasn’t told anyone yet, but this will be his last year on Strictly. Maybe it’s time to stop being so goddamn careful and just take what he wants for once.Author notes:
Dear Internet, we’re sorry. Except not really. Many thanks to the long-suffering dreamersdare
for an excellent beta job. Title refers to the basic dance steps of the waltz. This is not an abandoned WIP – the last two parts are already mostly written and will be posted within a reasonable timeframe.Closed Change – Part 1/3
Craig is stressed. This is nothing new; being a regular on live TV means he spends a considerable amount of his hours operating at some level of stress, but tonight he’s being even snappier than usual, edging towards outright and indiscriminate meanness
. And that could be a problem. They go on air in just over an hour and it might be bad form even for him to rip the celebrities to shreds this early in the series.
He’s leaning on the wall; arms crossed, one ankle hooked over the other, watching the organised chaos backstage - watching Bruno if he’s honest with himself. The man is being his usual pre-show hyper self; bouncing around all over the place, chatting animatedly to everyone and checking out the dancers. He's been paying particularly close attention to some of the new dancers this year – not that Craig is surprised, the man does have an eye for beauty.
Craig sighs, pressing his lips together unhappily. Being back for the new season means he’s once more seeing Bruno every week, sometimes several times a week, and somehow it seems to be getting to him more this year than before. When he’d first met Bruno he had wanted to slap him silent – the man never shut up! – but over the years the urge has morphed into wanting to push Bruno against the wall and kiss him silent instead. And... well, Craig is self-aware enough to see where that would lead.
The way he feels about Bruno has for a long time been an almost abstract thing, just simmering in the background, never meant to really lead to anything except an occasional stray thought. It’s not because he doesn’t think Bruno wouldn’t go for it. It’s because he knows Bruno would – just like he has with all the others. Bruno never hides the way he flirts with everybody, sharing his affections freely, being very vocal about his appreciation of anyone who catches his fancy. Sure, Craig can count himself among those, but casual sex is not really his thing. In all the years on Strictly
he's been so good, never laid a finger on anyone and not for the lack of offers either. He knows better than to take anyone up on those, he has morals after all, doesn't want anybody trying to influence him, because sometimes that's exactly what people are hoping for. Craig’s no fool; he saw these games when he still danced himself.
But it doesn't stop him grinding his teeth whenever he sees Bruno happily playing along. And he knows full well that Bruno has done more than flirt and look; knows that Bruno has touched and been touched over the years, has gotten to recognise the sated look on Bruno's face, even though Bruno thinks he's hiding it on the shows.
Tonight the sight of Bruno falling over the dancers is testing his already fraying temper. Craig shakes his head, trying to clear it. Yet he can’t stop following Bruno with his eyes, watching how he flutters from person to person like some sort of butterfly; the solemn black and white of his tux and neatly pressed shirt in stark contrast to his personality. Craig knows he should stop staring, but he’s sick and tired of holding himself in check, of always doing the right thing.
He hasn’t told anyone yet, but this will be his last year on Strictly
. Maybe it’s time to stop being so goddamn careful and just take what he wants for once.
Jared is talking animatedly, but Bruno is only half listening. Normally he would have been happy to chat – after all, he was pretty much the only familiar face the poor boy had this side of the Atlantic – but right now he had no patience for surfing talk. His attention has been steadily drifting toward the back of the room for the last hour – or, more specifically, to the man standing there.
Craig looks tense, almost angry. It’s more than just pre-show readiness, Bruno can tell that even from a distance. Over the years he’s become attuned to Craig’s moods and the way he’s leaning on the wall, muscles coiled tight, is not a good sign at all.
When Bruno had first met Craig he really hadn’t been sure about him. The man could be such a bitch on the show and Bruno had thought he'd be like that all the time so it has come as a surprise when that hadn’t turned out to be the case. Oh, the onscreen persona wasn’t entirely an act, Craig was standoffish off-camera too, but that wasn’t not all there was to him; he was also thoughtful and smart and almost scarily focussed. Craig was one of those people who knew what they wanted and just went for it; a man very much in control of his life. Couple all that with his undeniable hotness, and Bruno had been pretty much lost from the word go.
Unfortunately, the things Craig wanted and went for didn’t seem to include Bruno. He hadn’t exactly been shy about liking what he saw – he never was – and had even gone as far as outright flirting, but Craig had simply stared at him and said nothing. After that Bruno hadn’t tried again. Instead he’d settled for a friendship, well as much of a one as Craig allowed. It didn’t stop the wanting or the fascination – quite the opposite. It seemed prolonged exposure only made the problem worse; he’d even gone and bought Craig's autobiography and watched him on Masterchef
, despite hating cookery programmes on principle.
“...go tonight?” The questioning lilt of Jared’s voice draws Bruno back to the present.
Over Jared’s shoulder Bruno can see Robin dragging Patsy toward Craig with a determined look on his face and figures it’s high time to interfere.
“Excuse me,” he says, not even bothering to answer whatever it was that Jared asked, taking his leave with a quick: “Good luck!”
He steps neatly in front of Robin, stopping his progress before Craig notices his approach.
“Have you ever heard the expression ‘let the sleeping dogs lie’?” Bruno asks.
Patsy’s eyes dart from Bruno to Craig, before they go wide with understanding. She mutters something about needing to check her hair and wanders away. Smart, that one, Bruno always suspected.
Unfortunately, her partner isn’t as easily convinced. “Sorry, Bruno. I just need a word with Craig,” Robin says, with barely disguised irritation.
He tries to sidestep Bruno, which is his first mistake. When Bruno effortlessly blocks Robin again – they’re both dancers, sure, but one of them has two decades more experience – he looks down at him, sneering. That’s his second mistake.
“Get out of—”
Robin actually blinks in surprise.
“The only person getting out is you,” Bruno continues, with a perfectly pleasant smile on his face. “It would be a very, very
bad career decision to insist on talking to Craig right now. So I suggest you take my well-intentioned advice, go find your partner and concentrate on your performance instead of continuing on this particular course of action any longer.”
Robin stares at him for a while before pivoting on his heels and striding off.
“There’s a good boy,” Bruno murmurs under his breath. He checks his watch and then glances toward the back wall, only to find Craig looking straight back at him intently.
Bruno feels like a rabbit caught in the headlights, frozen on the spot for a moment, but then he shakes himself loose and heads towards Craig. Maybe he can do something to calm him down, get him away from everyone – his mood is becoming more and more noticeable and it’s starting to affect the dancers. Bruno can see the increasingly nervous glances people are casting in Craig’s direction and it’s only a matter of time before the tongues start wagging. Perhaps he can talk Craig into having a drink, though not in the green room. Bruno very much doubts Craig is in any state to be around Len or Alesha at the moment.
Craig doesn’t move at all, not even when Bruno is standing right in front of him. He’s still leaning on the wall, looking unruffled and arrogant, except for the tension around his eyes.
“Craig,” Bruno says, trying to keep his voice light although it’s difficult. There’s something about the situation that makes him want to whisper, a strange sort of intimacy created out of sharing a relatively quiet spot amongst the chaos. He clears his throat. “What’s got you so wound up, my friend? Do you want a drink or something? You should try and relax.”
Craig goes very still for a few seconds and then he lifts his gaze and says: “And you want to do that; calm me down, get me all relaxed?” His voice is pitched low and he’s looking at Bruno like he can see right through him, into every secret hidden part of him. “Okay then, let's see if you can.”
Bruno swallows, shocked silent. There’s no way Craig can be saying what Bruno thinks he is. Can he? From anyone else the message would be unmistakable, but from Craig, who’s never, not once, shown any interest...
Bruno touches Craig’s sleeve surreptitiously, just two fingers briefly resting against the expensive material. “Do you want to come to my dressing room?” he asks.
There’s a pause – exactly three heartbeats, Bruno counts – and then Craig says: “Yes.”
Craig lets Bruno lead the way. It’s not the first time they've had a drink in one of the dressing rooms, though usually it's all of them. Luckily, the preshow jitters mean that everyone's attention is pretty firmly on themselves and no one gives them a second look as they duck away. They've got at least forty minutes until they have to be in their places behind the judges’ desk. No one is going to come looking for them for a while yet.
Besides, he's not yet a hundred percent sure they'll be doing anything more than having that drink. Oh he knows he could get more from Bruno, has known it from fairly early on. Bruno is pretty easy to read, doesn't make a secret about what or who he wants. Getting Bruno to bed had never been the problem; the problem was that unlike Bruno, Craig wasn't so good at separating work and... more personal relationships.
But this is his last year on Strictly
. He's been thinking about it more and more; how it’s time to move on, do other things. And after this year there’s no guarantee he'll ever see Bruno again. Their circles aren't that closely connected, and while they are friends, sort of, it’s a result of circumstances and proximity more than anything else. Craig isn't so sure either of them would seek out the other's companionship without the convenient excuse of the show.
He watches Bruno as he walks behind him, both of them deftly weaving around the rest of the cast and crew. The noise fades to the background and it seems all he can hear is their steps, and the beating of his own heart. He wants Bruno. It’s almost a relief, to let himself think that. He wants Bruno, wants him on his knees, or pressed against a wall, wants to still his quicksilver movements, to make Bruno focus on him and him alone, instead of the hundred other things that constantly seem to be snatching at his attention.
Craig exhales slowly, stealing himself. This isn’t... it can't be... it’s for just this once, he reminds himself. Because sometimes you have to let yourself have what you want even when it's bad for you. There is no point in thinking this will be anything more than a way to relieve tension.
Craig almost believes himself.
As Bruno walks toward his dressing room he can feel the hair on the back of his neck rising, can feel Craig's eyes on him. It makes him nervous and that alone is rare enough to be remarkable. Bruno doesn’t get nervous. Well, of course he gets nervous, but he doesn't let people see it. But now... He doesn’t realise it at first, but he’s rubbing at his own forearms, like he’s cold. When he catches himself doing it, he stops immediately. It’s a nervous habit that he thought he'd managed to break years ago, but now he can't seem to help it.
Bruno digs his nails into his palms, trying to calm himself. What the hell is he doing here? Again he wonders if he’s reading this all wrong. Because if he is, he’s going to make a real fool of himself, but in a way Bruno doesn't even care. He'll just play it by the ear. If he's got this completely wrong he'll just offer Craig a drink. He always keeps a couple of bottles in his dressing room, and it's not as though he doesn't know what Craig likes to drink.
But if Craig really wants what Bruno thinks he does, then he's not going to say no – would never say no. He has wanted this for such a long time now. And he knows exactly what will calm Craig down too, knows what he wants to do. He wants to go down on his knees for Craig.
Even thinking about it makes his stomach clench with want.
Craig is so close that Bruno can almost feel his breath on the back of his neck. He tries to be cool about this, to be nonchalant, but it’s not easy. They finally get to his dressing room and Bruno nearly drops his key but manages to hang onto it and get the door open, even though his hand is shaking a little.
He opens it and steps inside. Craig is still close on his heels and Bruno shivers with anticipation and a little bit of fear as well. He almost can't believe that this may finally be about to happen. He’s not entirely sure why
or why now
, but he's not going to waste time analysing it; he wants it too much to really start doubting it.
Bruno walks further into the room and finally turns around. Craig has closed the door, shutting out the sound of the show behind them. It's quiet and before he can stop himself Bruno takes a step toward Craig.
“So you... want that drink?” Bruno asks.
Craig almost says yes, almost backs down and steps off this path he's already chosen. But there's an uncharacteristic catch to Bruno's voice; words slow and hesitant when Craig’s never seen him be either of those things. Bruno moves closer and Craig can see the nervous way he's licking his lips, and that's... yeah no, Craig doesn't want that drink, he really doesn't.
“No,” he says, stepping forward himself. He crowds Bruno, taking full advantage of his height and wider frame, the way he usually never does. Being a tall guy, a big guy, means he has to be extra careful with what he does with his body, and Craig considers it beneath him to use his size to intimidate someone. He’s got a sharp enough tongue that he can do that without even getting up from his chair when he has to.
But right now he uses every extra inch to his advantage, steps toe to toe with Bruno, forcing him to back down. ‘That's right
’, he thinks. It’s almost like dancing and they both know who leads and who follows right now.
It's weird that Bruno’s never realised quite how big Craig is until now. Oh, intellectually
he's known but he's never really felt it; never had Craig this close to him before. His skin prickles at the proximity and he fights his instinctive reaction to just fall to his knees. He’s hard though and Craig is so close that he can feel the heat coming from him. Bruno lets his glance wander downward, and oh yes
, Craig is hard as well, his erection pressing against his trousers.
Bruno knows he could do this the easy way; push Craig down into the chair and go down in front of him. But he doesn't want that. ‘Time for that later
,’ he thinks. Bruno wants to remember this, wants to feel Craig's presence looming over him. He very rarely likes to be stood over, to be overpowered even in height, but he knows he wants this with Craig.
So he places his hands on Craig's hips and steps back toward the wall. Craig follows him and Bruno keeps going until his back hits the smooth plaster. He looks up at Craig and holds his eyes for a few seconds. Then, in one smooth movement, he drops gracefully to his knees. He keeps his hands grasping Craig's hips for a moment and takes a deep breath, before moving to undo Craig's belt and his trousers. Bruno’s hands are shaking as he pulls the zip down. He can smell Craig now; the earthy muskiness of him, Craig’s cock hard against his palm as he takes him out.
Craig slams his hands against the wall for support. He lets his head hang down from between his arms, watching Bruno work his belt open, deft fingers unhooking and pulling until he has Craig's cock in his hand.
Craig hisses from between his teeth, hips jerking forward automatically. Bruno looks small and oddly vulnerable, trapped between the wall and Craig's body. The position can't be comfortable for him, and at some level Craig is surprised and curious that it's the one he chose. Craig may be pushing things a little here, but he doesn’t mean to be needlessly cruel, that has never been his thing. But it had been Bruno who pulled them to the wall, so here they are.
Bruno keeps his eyes down, focussed, and there’s that attention Craig had been wanting, all on him now. Bruno brushes his thumb over the head of Craig's cock, making him curse and moan. His other hand is rubbing soothing circles on Craig's hip and the top of his thigh, fingers coming back down to skim over his balls, massaging them. It feels good, fuck but does it feel good, and Craig takes a long shuddering breath.
This isn't what he was expecting; this slow, almost reverent way Bruno is touching him. This isn't how quick meaningless blow jobs in the dressing room go. Or maybe they do. Craig hasn't exactly made a habit of them, unlike Bruno who must be a goddamn expert.
The thought makes his mouth tighten in an angry line. He knew it was a bad idea, but it's way too late to back out now. Craig drops one of his hands down onto Bruno's head, fingers sinking easily into his hair, pulling.
“C'mon then,” he rasps, voice already shot. “Show me what you got.”
Bruno moans as Craig tugs at his hair; it’s something that has always turned him on. Not that he thinks it's likely he could be any more turned on than he already is. Just being here with Craig like this, the way Craig's voice is low and husky as he tells him what to do. God
, Bruno hasn’t felt this desperate in such a long time.
He leans forward eagerly. Sucking cock is one of his favourite things to do and Bruno knows he's good at it too. He wants to be even better for Craig, wants him to remember it. After all, Craig had said Bruno should relax him and he's damn well going to. Bruno breathes softly over the tip of Craig's cock, making him moan again as his hand tightens in Bruno's hair.
Bruno flicks the tip of his tongue over the head, tasting, and then slowly wraps his lips around it. The skin feels soft and Craig’s cock is hot and hard in his mouth. Bruno keeps his right hand tight on the base while his left hand grips Craig's hip. He’s shaking with want and need, and he closes his eyes, preferring to concentrate on his other senses. He savours the feel and taste and smell, his toes curling inside his shoes at the sounds Craig is making above him. Bruno takes him in deeper, almost giddy with the knowledge that it’s him
that’s causing Craig to lose control like this.
God, he was right; Bruno is
an expert at this; sucking cock like a pro, his tongue wicked and teasing, rubbing him just the right way, hand moving in time with his lips. “Fuck, oh fuck,” Craig curses, words tripping over each other, jumbled and breathless.
He tries to be careful, not to push in as hard as he wants, to keep his hips from snapping forward, but Bruno only moans around his cock, head tipping up to accommodate the angle, the hand at his hip pulling and urging him to go faster. It’s taken seven years for Craig to make a move, but it sure as hell won't take him nearly that long to stop resisting this and start fucking Bruno's mouth in earnest. It’s like opening a dam; once you give in to one thing, the others quickly follow. He already knows he wants to fuck Bruno, wants to hoist him against the wall and hold him there while he presses between his legs. He thinks he could do it; Bruno is not exactly a small guy but he is compared to Craig. It would be easy enough to lift him up and spread him open.
Bruno makes a choked moan; Craig's pushed in hard and deep enough to hit the back of his throat. He starts to pull back, but Bruno brings both hands up, wrapping them around his thighs, holding him there. He looks up, and there's something wild and a little desperate in his eyes, like he doesn't want Craig to ease up, like he wants him to just go for it.
Craig curses again, biting out something that sounds an awful lot like Bruno's name. He cards his fingers through his hair, almost soothing. “Okay, okay,” he says, “That's it, open up,” and then he tightens his grip, holding Bruno's head still, as he fucks his mouth in short brutal thrusts.
It doesn't take long after that. Even Craig’s self-control has its limits and the sight of Bruno on his knees, making little mewling noises that are barely audible over the obscene wet sounds of Craig's cock sliding in and out of his mouth is more than he can hold out against.
“Fuck,” he says, “Fuck, I’m gonna...” He tries to pull out again, though he doesn't know which is less polite; coming in someone's mouth without permission, or coming all over their face and tux twenty minutes before they're due to go on live television.
In the end Bruno makes that decision for him; rubbing his tongue hard against the underside of Craig's cock just at the right point and pressure. Craig comes with a long moan that he tries, and mostly fails, to stifle against his own forearm.
Bruno can taste Craig at the back of his throat and on his tongue. His jaw is a little sore but it feels really good too. Bruno rests his head against Craig's thigh for a moment, but then Craig steps back from him. He watches as Craig zips up his trousers, tucking his shirt inside and smoothing his hands down over his trousers. He’s not looking at Bruno and for a moment a flicker of worry goes through him.
But Craig is already pulling him up. “Your turn,” he tells Bruno. His voice is louder now and it seems harder somehow, almost like when he’s in front of the cameras and Bruno wonders what the hell is going on.
Craig turns him so he's facing the wall and then he's stepping close, pressing up against Bruno's back. Bruno instinctively leans back and Craig catches his wrists, placing Bruno's hands on the wall above his head. “Keep them there,” he tells him.
Bruno swallows. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the sound of Craig's voice. He wants to see Craig's eyes, wants Craig to take his face in his hands and kiss him, but he doesn't say anything, just follows Craig's instructions. And then he gasps as Craig's hands come around his waist and unbutton his trousers, sliding the zip down, mirroring his own actions from earlier. He moans as Craig takes hold of his cock and starts to stroke it. The movements are harsh and he's leaning against Bruno's back, holding him in place.
It’s an uncomfortable position and Bruno is forced to balance on his toes, trying to keep steady. Craig is murmuring in his ear, the words dirty as they fall from his mouth. He’s calling Bruno a slut, telling him how much he knows Bruno wants this, how he sounds. And it hurts a little, but Bruno says nothing, just drinks in the feel and scent of Craig against him, his hand rough against Bruno’s cock.
Craig twists his fingers, a little mean and just right, and Bruno is coming, his cries muffled by the hand that Craig quickly clamps over his mouth. He shudders through his orgasm and then leans back against Craig, seeking support. There is none to be found though; the warmth is gone from his back as Craig steps away from him. Bruno turns around and slumps against the wall.
Craig is cleaning his hand fastidiously on a handkerchief. He looks up at Bruno, his gaze fixed and mouth tight. “You should tidy yourself up,” he says. “We're due on stage in about ten minutes.”
With that Craig turns around and leaves, closing the dressing room door softly behind him.
Bruno shivers, feeling cold in a way that has nothing to do with his open clothes. He lets his head drop back, thumping against the wall. “Merda
,” he says to the empty room. “That went well.”Fin.
Continued at:Closed Change - Part 2/3