Work Text:
It was raining cats and dogs, and the water drops left a trail on the window to make way for the others to follow. Behind the glass, he sat in his armchair, a glass of wine in his hand, and stared out. The dim light from the streetlights filtered in, making the small silver binoculars that lay on the wooden table beside them glint faintly. The drops of water on his red velvet jacket beaded over the fabric, a few managing to penetrate and wet the white shirt underneath. He put down the glass and picked up the binoculars instead. His fingers ran over them thoughtfully, remembering the first time he had used them here to watch you.
In the house across the street at the dance studio. Never had his gaze lingered longer on the floor-to-ceiling windows, but then he'd seen you floating across the dance floor. Wrapped in silk, graceful and lovely. He couldn't stop staring at you, wanting to see more of you. Your beautiful body, your angelic movements. And then the flyer for the show was in his mailbox. He had dressed up, sitting all alone in the box, wearing the red jacket and watching you through the binoculars. He could see your elegance, your beauty, your fine movements. Your closed eyes as you wrapped the silk around your hand, your pink lips slightly parted, your tongue stealing out and wetting them with moisture. Your stretched neck, your beautiful cleavage rising and falling with your strained breathing, accentuating the edge of your breasts hidden beneath the white dress. Your stretched legs, how they spread under the silk and you let yourself fall again and again.
He wasn't just witnessing a performance, he was enjoying watching you and could see each of the new subtleties you were rehearsing. When his gaze slid over your body through the binoculars, he imagined being alone on stage with you. How you would fall into his arms and his hands would hold your face. How he would admire your beautiful blue eyes, seek your lips and place his on them. Very soft and feathery kisses across your cheeks before you would kiss longingly. His hands would explore your body and disappear with you behind the silk, performing the dance of love. He would think about how soft your skin would be, how much he wanted to touch your whole body with his lips and mark it so that everyone knew you were his. You would undress each other, your sweat of pleasure would mix, as would your moans.
He wanted to buy a bouquet of flowers and send them to you. He wanted to write you a letter. He wanted to stop being a silent observer, looking through binoculars, unable to be close to you.
And then the pandemic came and everything changed. Every now and then he could actually still see you alone in the dance studio across the street, but the visits became fewer and eventually you stopped coming. The binoculars lay untouched on the table for a long time.
The rain was still pattering against the panes, and he rose and leaned his head against the cool surface of the glass. The studio across the street was working out, it had been over a year now, and normalcy was returning. But one would never dance there again, gracefully holding onto a silk and making magical movements to it.
A drop fell on the inside of the window pane, more followed and ran down until the fingers on the glass surface stopped them. He had waited too long...