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“Steve,” Chrissy snapped, reaching over to poke him once in the shoulder. “It’s plié then grand jeté, not grand plié!”
Steve rolled his eyes and poked her right back. “Maybe your choreography is wrong, princess.”
Chrissy glowered at him and tapped one pointe shoe impatiently on the polished floor. “Just because you’re the only straight boy in ballet doesn’t mean you get to act like you know everything.”
“For the record,” Steve snarked back, putting his hands on his sweatpant-clad hips and then turning to face her, “I am bisexual. And you’re a raging bitch-“
“Children,” called a voice, musical and teasing in that thick sultry southern drawl that made her knees weak. Chrissy snapped her head over to the piano, where she’d totally forgotten the music student they’d hired was sitting, fingers still resting on the keys of the baby grand by the door. “You only paid me for an hour, and while I am very much enjoying this little…” he waved a hand at the two of them, both flushed with rage–or something else, “lover’s spat, I’m not refunding you even if I don’t play a single note.”
Chrissy sputtered at him. “Lover’s spat?!"
Steve, cocky as always, smirked. “You’d be so lucky, Cunningham.”
Eddie tsked at them and they both turned to look at him again. “Now now,” he dragged out, shaking his head. “The problem is, you’re not very good.”
Steve went from cocky to indignant in the snap of a perfectly manicured fingernail. “Excuse me?” He said, turning towards Eddie. “First of all, we’re top of the class. That’s why we get to do the fall showcase in the first place. Second of all, what the fuck does some punk-ass music major know about ballet?”
Chrissy wanted to be mad at him, but all she could do was nod in agreement.
“First of all, sugar,” Eddie said in that molasses thick voice, “metal and punk are very different. Secondly, I’m a director-“
“Music director,” Chrissy interjected,
“Director,” Eddie repeated, “and I am very good. Do you remember Nancy and Johnathan from last year? I helped them out and they’re both ABT now. But, if you think tripping over each other and bitching about it is going to get you top marks at Julliard,” he snorted, derision clear, “be my guests.”
“You little-“ Steve started, but Chrissy snapped a hand out to grab his bicep, marvelling at how thick it was compared to most of the men she’d danced with.
“What do we need to do?”
The smirk that crested Eddie’s face was nothing short of danger, and instead of being scared, Chrissy felt that curl of need re-spark low in her belly.
“Face the mirror,” Eddie began, turning in the piano seat so he was facing it as well, gesturing to both of them to do so.
Chrissy complied. Steve huffed.
“Are we seriously about to listen to this… country hick?” he snarked, crossing his arms.
“Look,” Chrissy said, snapping her head around to glare at him beside her. “He’s right. All we’ve done for two fucking practices is trip over the other and bitch. And I am not fucking up this duet. Mme. Byers being disappointed makes me want to literally kill myself. So do what he fucking says, or you can go, and I’ll see if Tommy actually wants to work.”
Steve’s face flushed red but he turned to the mirror nonetheless. “I’m better than Tommy,” he grumbled.
“Behind her, Harrington,” Eddie said, and Steve moved to stand behind Chrissy, hands falling to her hips naturally. Chrissy shivered at the touch, even though this was normal. Ballet dancers had to touch.
“Closer,” Eddie purred, watching them shuffle, and Chrissy forced herself not to react when Steve’s hips bumped into her backside. “Steve, hands on the back of her hands. You move when she moves. Both of you: try to keep up. Legs and arms.”
Chrissy nodded, barely parsing the instructions, when Eddie began.
“First position, second, third, first again, fourth. Plié. Releve. Third. Fifth. Faster. Plié. Releve again. Fifth-and-hold-”
Chrissy and Steve moved through the motions as fast as they could with a partner. Chrissy fell back into decades of training, her body taking over, but she couldn’t deny the fact that feeling Steve’s well muscled form behind her was starting to drive her just a bit crazy. He really was handsome, she thought, looking at them in the mirror, his reddened cheeks and soft pouty lips, and–
“Steve, slide your hands down her arms. Slow, sensual. Then her sides.” Steve obeyed, hands skirting over her bare arms, drawing a shiver down her spine.
“Good,” Eddie purred, and Chrissy didn’t notice as the tension in the room changed. “Cup her breasts,” he said, and Steve, without thinking, caught in the act of instruction and following orders, did so.
Chrissy gasped and that seemed to snap Steve out of it, his head snapping around to Eddie, about to protest. His hands, though, stayed where they were. “What the fuck?” he said.
Eddie raised a brow. “I think,” he said, and licked his lips, “your problem is that the two of you need to work out how to move together, how to think together. And also: you both really want to fuck each other. And those things go together more than you’d think.”
“I do not-” Chrissy started, but Steve slipped a hand to pinch her nipple and she broke into a moan, body softening against his own.
“We can stop,” Eddie said, the first time all day he’d sounded a little unsure.
Chrissy forced her eyes open, to look in the mirror. All three of them looked affected, flushed. Steve bumped his hips forward just once and Chrissy felt the hard length of him against her, and she knew if she stopped now she’d regret it for the rest of her life.
“No,” she whispered, and shook her head to make it clear. “Keep going.”
Steve smirked and Eddie stretched out a little more on his piano bench, spreading his legs out, and Chrissy could see he was straining at his jeans too.
“Pull her leo down,” Eddie said, his eyes making contact with Chrissy’s in the mirror. “Just enough to see her tits.”
Steve complied and Chrissy hissed at the cool studio air over her bare skin. Steve kept touching her, tiny teasing brushes of his fingers over her bare breasts, studiously ignoring her nipples.
“Very good,” Eddie drawled, and Chrissy didn’t miss the soft hum Steve made at the praise. Now that was interesting.
“Chrissy, touch your own breasts. Steve, tell me if she’s wet,” he said, and she didn’t think she was imagining that he was speeding up a little bit, breathing harder, just like they were.
Steve complied, sliding her hands down her leotard clad body. Chrissy replaced his hands with her own, giving her nipples more attention, pinching and tweaking at them and letting her body relax back against his as she took in the sensations.
Steve reached the apex of her thighs and he pushed her leo aside, grumbling slightly at the tights she wore under. Still, he dutifully pressed his fingers between her legs and groaned audibly into her ear.
“She’s soaked,” he told Eddie, and then nipped her ear just once, “and she’s not wearing panties.”
“Naughty girl,” Eddie groaned, and Chrissy huffed–but there was no malice behind it.
“You’re not supposed to wear underwear under tights,” she pointed out, just as Steve brushed her again. It was torturous, the feel of his thick fingers pressing the wet gusset of her tights up and in to her aching flesh, not nearly enough contact to be anything other than a massive tease. “Can we get these off?” she asked him.
“No,” Eddie cut in quickly, and when Chrissy flicked her eyes to look at him in the mirror, he had one hand grasping the front of his jeans, clearly almost as desperate as she was. “Rip them,” he told Steve.
Steve, groaning, complied, finding the edge of a seam and yanking, and they must have been an old pair, ready to fall apart, because they tore fast and easy and Chrissy whined at the sensation.
“Touch me, please,” she half begged, forcing her hips back to grind into Steve, desperate to feel him too.
“Eddie?” Steve checked, and Chrissy shivered at the way Steve involved him so easily. She wondered, almost hysterically, if she’d get to fuck them both today, if that was what Eddie had in store. But he stayed on the bench, never taking his eyes off the mirror, watching them intently.
Eddie pretended, at least, to ponder it. “Get your dick out,” he told Steve, and Steve rushed to comply, sliding his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. It was bigger than Chrissy had seen in a long time, glistening and red, and god, she wanted to put it in her mouth. Eddie seemed to agree, his tongue darting out to swipe over his lips in appreciation at the sight of it. “You can touch her with that. But don’t put it in yet.”
“Fuck,” Steve mumbled, and Chrissy wasn’t sure if it was even loud enough for Eddie to hear. “You okay with that? I’m clean–checked last week”
Chrissy nodded, fast. “Me too. And on the pill. Hurry the fuck up,” she told him, and squeezed both breasts just as Steve lined up to slide his cock between her lips, teasing and rubbing without ever pushing inside.
“Oh, fuck,” Chrissy moaned, dropping her head back to his shoulder. It was sinfully good, the way he slid through her slick folds from behind, sliding his cockhead over her pulsing clit but never giving her enough satisfaction to come.
“Eyes on the mirror, princess,” Eddie said, and she forced her head back up, forced them open, forced herself to look. If the feeling was sinful the sight was even more so, and her eyes were drawn to the spot where they met, transfixed.
“Please,” Chrissy half begged, and she wasn’t sure which one she was begging. “Please, I need… I need him to fuck me.”
Eddie hummed again, and she watched as he slid his hand into his jeans, pulled out his own cock, also hard and gleaming with precum, which he swiped his thumb through. “On your knees, both of you. Steve, stay behind her. Keep her thighs spread so I can see.”
“You wanna come over here?” Steve asked, and Chrissy nodded in agreement as he helped her to the ground, kneeling behind her and helping spread her legs out lewdly, his between hers, keeping her open and keeping his cock right up against her now dripping cunt.
Eddie shook his head, but he looked pained about it. “This is for you two,” he said, his voice strained, accent thicker than ever.
“Next time,” Steve promised, and Chrissy nodded in agreement. Eddie quirked a brow in surprise, but nodded anyways.
“Next time,” he agreed, and then licked his lips. “You can fuck her now. Go slow,” he said, and Steve was fast to obey, sliding one more time to line up at Chrissy’s entrance and then push in, inch by inch.
Chrissy gasped as his head breached her, desperate but surprised by the intrusion. He hadn’t warmed her up with his fingers, but the stretch was delicious, the way he almost scraped over her walls as he bullied his way inside.
“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve groaned, one hand splayed on her thigh and the other arm wrapped around her ribs, hand holding tight to her breast to keep her upright, “she’s so fucking tight, never felt anything like this.”
“Eyes open,” Eddie commanded, just as Chrissy’s had started to flutter shut, and she forced them back, drew her attention back to the mirror where she could see herself stretched out and still only halfway down Steve’s cock.
“He’s too big,” she whimpered, realizing how far there still was to go.
“You can take it,” Steve mumbled, but slowed down a bit anyways. That, somehow, was worse.
“Be a good girl and take his cock,” Eddie agreed, his fist sliding over his own in that same slow torturous pace. “If you want to fuck us both next time we need to know you can handle it.”
Chrissy whined and bit her lip but kept her eyes open, and Steve slid her down further and further, until finally she was full of him.
“See?” Eddie said, pleasure and pride in his voice. “Knew you could do it. Now fuck her, Steve, go slow. Gotta make it real good for her.”
Steve nodded and kissed the back of Chrissy’s shoulder, before he started to move, leveraging her up and down, his own hips back and forth, fucking into her over and over. He liked to pull nearly all the way out so she could see the head of his cock in the mirror, and then push back in in one long, deep thrust. Chrissy was a mess now, whimpering and desperate, plucking at her nipples in the vain hope that she could make herself come from that alone, but–
“It’s not enough,” she begged, after minutes of what felt almost like torture. “Need more, need it harder, faster, need–need to touch my clit,” she rambled, not even sure what she needed most.
“Can I?” Steve asked Eddie, biting his lip to keep from doing what Chrissy asked instead, still moving at the same too-slow speed he had been the whole time. “Want her to come all over my cock.”
“God,” Eddie moaned, and it was the first time he’d fallen apart audibly like that, and Chrissy flicked her eyes over to watch him, watch his hand on his cock. “Yeah, yeah, fuck her harder, give her what she wants. Make sure she comes before you do,” he instructed, and sped his hand up in time with Steve’s thrusts.
“Fuck!” Chrissy shouted, as Steve complied immediately, fucking her harder and faster and deeper all at once. He only gave her a minute to adjust to the new pace and then he let go of her breast and dropped his hand to rub furiously at her clit.
That was all it took. She crashed over the edge with a scream, coil of heat in her belly snapping tight. She’d never come so hard in her life and she could feel the way her cunt was milking Steve’s cock, clenching around its girth over and over. Steve held out as best as he could, but then he was coming too, moaning into her shoulder as he spurted hot come up into her. On the piano bench, Eddie was following them other with a low grunt, coming into his fist, body clenching in around himself as he did so.
Slowly, carefully, Steve slid out of Chrissy and reached up to gently tug her leotard back into place.
“Sorry about your tights,” he mumbled in her hair, dropping down to sit on the polished wood floor. Chrissy collapsed beside him, her chest heaving with the force of her orgasm, and she waved his worry away.
Then there were footsteps, and as she looked up she found Eddie standing over the both of them. He crouched down beside them and reached out for the first time, tugging Chrissy closer to press a soft kiss on her brow, then doing the same to Steve.
“You were both phenomenal,” he said, smiling down at them. “I obviously won’t charge you for the music,” he added, with a bit of a laugh. “But if you ever, ah, need my help again… You know where to find me.” And then he winked, and disappeared out of the room.
“Jesus fuck,” Steve mumbled, from the floor beside her. “He’s good at that.”
Chrissy nodded in agreement, letting herself slump back down, resting her head on his chest. “You think he… with Nancy and Jonathan too?” she asked, suddenly realizing what he’d told them when he started.
Steve paused, then burst out laughing. “I sure fucking hope so,” he admitted, and then he smiled. “I think we’re already on a better page than we were when we started.”
Chrissy contemplated this statement, and agreed. “Maybe we should see if he’s free next week,” she hummed. “Pay him back for all the… help .”
Steve’s smirk went from boneless to just a little wicked. “I think you, Chrissy Cunningham, are the smartest girl at Julliard.”