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Dirty Dancing
Nov. 10th, 2014 09:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
metalicarusAs much as their little family unit stuck together these days, they each had their own things to do and places to go sometimes and that could mean they were gone for a long time, depending on where they were going and why. For Pyunma, it was his digs and various other cultural and historical things that he was called to and, as he gained notoriety, he was being called on more and more. This meant he was often away for months at a time. However, he always sent little things back for his family as he found them, for Albert and Jet they often came in the form of books, music and little models of whatever reminded Pyunma of Jet.
When Jet came home from shopping, it was to the sounds of Spanish-style music flooding their home. It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't tell if it was the artist or just the type of music. Puerto Rican music had flowed nearly non-stop from certain parts of the city Jet had gone through and spent time in and he'd never had a problem with the music itself, just the people who played it. Older now, the prejudices had died and left behind was the pure appreciation for the sound. Besides, it made for good dancing music, especially the more sensual kind he didn't get to do all that often anymore.
He cast a quick glance to see Albert in his chair with one of his books before moving into the kitchen to unload the groceries. Just as he was finishing, a song came on that was just a little faster than the others, a little more, and it put a beat to Jet's movements.
That was when the lightbulb flashed over his head and spawned a somewhat evil little smirk on Jet's face.
A quiet 'zing' -easily missed under the music- and Jet accelerated upstairs, changed into a pair of distinctly tighter jeans and a tight tank top that he knew would move with him just like he wanted it to, and headed back down the stairs at a normal pace. As soon as his bare feet touched the slick wood of the bottom floor, Jet started to move.
It took no time at all to let the music flow into his system, taking control of his body as he moved around to the front of the couch. Gracefully, Jet's body flowed into moves he knew by muscle more than memory. He stood there in the middle of the living room, swirling hips and taking steps as the puppet of the music he was, though there could be no doubt by just a glance at his face that he was enjoying himself. However, he was also knowingly putting on a show for his husband, something he made clear by the looks and suggestive smirks he sent Albert's way.
When Jet came home from shopping, it was to the sounds of Spanish-style music flooding their home. It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't tell if it was the artist or just the type of music. Puerto Rican music had flowed nearly non-stop from certain parts of the city Jet had gone through and spent time in and he'd never had a problem with the music itself, just the people who played it. Older now, the prejudices had died and left behind was the pure appreciation for the sound. Besides, it made for good dancing music, especially the more sensual kind he didn't get to do all that often anymore.
He cast a quick glance to see Albert in his chair with one of his books before moving into the kitchen to unload the groceries. Just as he was finishing, a song came on that was just a little faster than the others, a little more, and it put a beat to Jet's movements.
That was when the lightbulb flashed over his head and spawned a somewhat evil little smirk on Jet's face.
A quiet 'zing' -easily missed under the music- and Jet accelerated upstairs, changed into a pair of distinctly tighter jeans and a tight tank top that he knew would move with him just like he wanted it to, and headed back down the stairs at a normal pace. As soon as his bare feet touched the slick wood of the bottom floor, Jet started to move.
It took no time at all to let the music flow into his system, taking control of his body as he moved around to the front of the couch. Gracefully, Jet's body flowed into moves he knew by muscle more than memory. He stood there in the middle of the living room, swirling hips and taking steps as the puppet of the music he was, though there could be no doubt by just a glance at his face that he was enjoying himself. However, he was also knowingly putting on a show for his husband, something he made clear by the looks and suggestive smirks he sent Albert's way.
