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It was a mistake. It was the music, Douglas thought. The music had drawn him to the deserted hangar, standing lonely at the back of the airfield, the hangar nobody used. It hadn’t even been suitable for an impromptu pub; the roof had collapsed towards the rear and the light evening drizzle would turn to a downpour soon according to the weather app on Douglas’ phone, leaking through the holes and creating sopping puddles all over the place.
He’d been halfway home when he’d impulsively decided to turn around and head back. The flight had been fairly disastrous, even by MJN’s high standards. The client and her friends were drunk, rowdy and handsy, and poor Martin had taken the brunt of it. Douglas thought about his Captain’s stunned, red face as one of them groped his crotch again. Martin had tried to handle it but as usual his mouth had gotten him into more trouble rather than less. Arthur had had to step in and calmly but firmly remove the woman clinging onto his Skipper. Martin’s hat had long been sacrificed.
If there was a mildly bitter tinge to Douglas’ thoughts that it had been skinny, stumbling Martin who’d been the centre of attention, well… Douglas refused to admit to himself he was a little bit jealous; it wasn’t that long ago that the stewardesses were hanging on his every word. In a different way perhaps, but still. A small voice in his mind whispered traitorously that it wasn’t jealousy of the female attention at all, but jealousy of them being all over Martin. Stroking his sharp cheekbones, those full lips pursed, fingers in those lovely curls…
Snapping furiously at the small voice to just shut up, Douglas turned his attention back to the music. He’d driven back to the airfield to check that Martin was ok, but he let his curiosity get the better of him and followed the mournful piano notes to the grotty abandoned hangar.
Douglas yanked on the broken door and it silently swung open. He stepped into the gloom, the piano building slowly and lending an atmosphere of drama to his surroundings. He ignored the tiny shivers and moved further into the hangar.
Towards the back, highlighted by a large but dim floodlight, stood Martin. He had his back to Douglas, his arms hanging loosely by his sides. Douglas could see that his Captain was shirtless, his feet bare, what looked like dark navy leggings clinging to his strong thighs and calves. He was breathing gently, his sea-coloured eyes closed, lips just barely parted.
The area around Martin seemed to glow in the floodlight’s gleam, and Douglas could see that somehow Martin had laid smooth wooden flooring on a large part of the hangar’s concrete ground. The piano music was coming from a player balanced on a box beside the floodlight. The music was soft, but began to build.
Douglas hovered where he was, sure Martin had no idea he was being watched. He opened his mouth to call out and announce his presence, but then Martin began to move. Douglas’ breath caught in his throat.
This was not the fumbling, clumsy Martin of whom he had grown so fond. This Martin moved with a grace and fluidity Douglas would never have thought his Martin possessed. The music swelled and Douglas could feel his heartbeat in his throat as he watched Martin dance.
Martin raised his head, eyes still closed, his arms coming up from his sides smoothly as he extended one leg, foot pointed daintily. A beat, then he was leaping across the makeshift dancefloor, executing a grand jete, landing and balancing on his right leg a moment. Then he was off again, his body perfectly in harmony with the music.
Douglas stared open-mouthed at the display of extraordinary beauty taking place before him. He’d always felt Martin was an attractive man, but clearly he’d underestimated him. Martin dancing was… exquisite. His lean torso shone with the light rain coming through the hole in the ceiling, the elegant lines of the muscles of his back and arms called out to be caressed. Douglas wanted to drop to his knees and beg to be allowed to bestow kisses and touches all over the perfect form dancing for him.
Suddenly he became aware that this display was not meant for him. Martin hadn’t expected to have an audience, and if he knew Douglas was watching him…
But Douglas couldn’t bring himself to move. He couldn’t stop his eyes following every extension, every placement, every motion of Martin’s figure as he leapt, pirouetted and lost himself in the marriage of music and movement.
The music built to a glorious crescendo and Martin ended the routine in the position he’d begun, back to Douglas, a contented smile now playing at the corners of his mouth. Douglas desperately wanted to taste that smile, and clenched his fists against the wave of desire which washed through him.
Martin kept his posture for a moment, then relaxed. He was breathing heavily and his pale skin held the sheen of his exertion. Douglas finally got his senses into gear and reluctantly tore his eyes away from his beautiful friend.
“Douglas?”
Martin’s voice was so soft Douglas almost didn’t hear him. He cleared his throat and stepped forward onto the wooden boards. For once, he was completely without words.
Martin turned but didn’t meet Douglas’ eyes. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, his chin raised defiantly as he spoke.
“You play the piano,” Martin said, “I dance.” He shuffled his bare feet a little and the graceful dancer was gone, Martin’s usual nervous demeanour taking its place.
“I wasn’t lying when I told you I wanted to be a pilot since I was six,” Martin was saying, “but I also loved to dance. My dad, he-”
Martin stopped. He looked up and met Douglas’ gaze.
“Well, now you know. N-nobody else does, a-and I’d appreciate it if, I mean I, just-” Martin cut himself off again, and Douglas could clearly see the beginnings of tears in his lovely eyes.
Martin sniffed and visibly fought the flush creeping across his bare chest. He glanced away and when he met Douglas’ eyes again, the tide within Douglas finally overwhelmed him.
Douglas surged forward and pulled Martin into his arms. Martin fell willingly into Douglas’ embrace and Douglas couldn’t resist dropping gentle kisses into the tangled, sweaty curls brushing his face.
“You are beautiful,” Douglas whispered fiercely, “you are always beautiful.” Martin shivered against him and pulled away slightly. Douglas’ heart wailed at the loss but he let Martin go. Martin didn’t go very far, just enough to reach out and stroke Douglas’ cheek.
“Douglas,” he breathed, then their lips came together and the rest of the world ceased to exist. Douglas thrilled in Martin’s tentative kiss and couldn’t stop a low moan escaping his throat when they parted for breath. He blinked at Martin, then pulled him back in, pouring tenderness and adoration into the embrace. Martin responded wonderfully, exploring Douglas’ lips and mouth with his tongue, the words neither of them dared to speak expressed in touch.
Finally they parted once more, breathing hard, staring at one another. Douglas kept caressing Martin’s back and arms as he’d so badly wished to when he’d first entered the hangar. Martin closed his eyes again, his face a picture of carefree bliss.
When he opened his eyes again, he smiled. Douglas grinned back and was sure his expression was utterly soppy. He didn’t care, he had Martin in his arms. Martin looked away shyly.
“So,” Douglas said, clearing his throat.
“So,” Martin replied hesitantly. Douglas brushed an errant auburn lock away from Martin’s gorgeous eyes, delighting in the devotion he saw there.
“Dance for me,” Douglas whispered. Martin’s face lit up and Douglas released him to walk over to the player.
Douglas perched on a rickety crate and happily lost himself in Martin’s beauty.