#belly dancing

“Sweetie, what’s this?” he asked, the words laced with surprise and curiosity.

His voice was tinged with amusement, and you could tell he was holding something up, clearly intrigued by whatever he'd just unearthed. You didn’t turn to look right away. Instead, you lifted a box of your own, checking the contents as you sorted them into piles. You were so engrossed in organizing everything just so that you didn’t quite register the change in his tone until he continued.

“It’s... beautiful,” he said, his voice sounding almost reverent now.

At that, you turned around fully, a frown already forming on your face, only to freeze in your tracks when you saw what he was holding. In his hands, Sylus was gently lifting a belly dancing outfit — a stunning set of rich, maroon fabric adorned with delicate gold beads and sequins that glittered faintly in the light. It was the outfit you had bought years ago for a silly bet you’d lost with your friends back in college, and one you hadn’t thought about in months. The top, a halter-style design, was made to hug the contours of the body, while the skirt was sheer and flowing, the kind that danced with every twist of the hips.

You didn’t even realize you’d already taken a step toward him until you were dashing across the room, a gasp escaping you. “Sylus, no!” you half-laughed, half-scolded as you stretched out your arms to grab the shimmering material. But of course, he was much taller than you, and the outfit was far out of your reach, held high above his head. His smile spread even further, amused by your quick reaction, and he stepped back just enough to keep you from grabbing it.

He laughed, the sound deep and rich, and with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, he danced out of your reach once more. “I don’t know... this is really pretty,” he taunted, inspecting the outfit more closely. “I’m just surprised I’ve never seen it before. Do you belly dance?”

You froze mid-step, eyes widening, and your body tensed instinctively as you registered his words. His Cheshire smile was widening, and there was something undeniably playful in his gaze. You blinked twice, unable to form words for a moment, before you quickly crossed the room to stand in front of him, hands on your hips in an exaggerated motion of mock annoyance.

“Give that back!” you demanded, your voice thick with embarrassment. The red in your cheeks gave away how flustered you were, and you reached up again, trying to snatch it away, but to no avail.

He tilted his head, watching you with an utterly delighted expression, clearly enjoying this moment far more than he had any right to. “What’s the story behind this?” he asked, his voice dropping just enough to give it a soft, teasing lilt. “You never told me you belly danced.”

You exhaled in frustration, biting the inside of your cheek, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You stood there for a long moment, your hands still raised in a half-attempted grab. There was no escaping this now. You might as well come clean.

“Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes as you put your hands down, your expression melting into something more sheepish. “You really want to know?”

Sylus nodded eagerly, a smirk still dancing on his lips as he waited. His face was playful, but there was an underlying sincerity in his gaze, as though he genuinely wanted to understand.

You let out a sigh, feeling both embarrassed and strangely warm from the look in his eyes. “Okay, okay,” you began, your voice a little quieter now, “In my final year of college, my friends and I were part of a small group — a little clique. We were always making silly bets and pranks on each other. Anyway, we were having this trivia contest one weekend, and I lost too. So, the bet was that I, along with the other girls who lost, had to join this belly dancing club at the local community center.”

Sylus mused. “Belly dancing?”

“Yep.” You grinned sheepishly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It was a two-month program. We had to go to lessons every week. I won’t lie, at first, we were all ridiculously self-conscious and awful, but after a while... It was actually kinda fun. There was this one friend of mine who was so into it, and she got us all hyped up.”

You paused, lost in the memory. It had been such an unexpectedly fun experience. “Anyway, after the program ended, one of the girls threw this huge sleepover at her house. We all decided to bring our glittery outfits — because, why not? We were all completely drunk on the fun of the whole thing, and we danced around like idiots, trying to outdo each other. It wasn’t... it wasn’t a great performance or anything, but it was hilarious and a good souvenir from my final year.”

You trailed off, a soft smile on your lips as you looked at Sylus, who had been listening intently, his face unreadable for a few moments as he mulled over your words. The silence in the room felt different now, charged, full of something unspoken. His gaze was thoughtful as he met yours, fingers gently toying with the fabric of the outfit in his hands.

Finally, Sylus spoke again, his voice quiet but filled with something that caught your attention. He spoke with a slight request, a softness that seemed hesitant. “So, um...” His voice trailed off as his gaze softened. “Could you... show me?”

You blinked, stunned. “Show you?” The words left your mouth before you even processed them. You rubbed your arm, heat flaring up in your cheeks. The thought of dancing in front of Sylus, of him watching you — in the way that made you all hot and bothered — was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You hesitated, biting your lip, but then you saw it — the pleading look in his eyes, the way his lips curved into a small pout. The effect was immediate. It was so uncharacteristically adorable that you found yourself melting, despite the nervous flutter in your nerves. You never stood a chance.

“You really want me to?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though your voice betrayed you.

“I’m not going to... be good. It’s been years since I last danced,” you muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” Sylus said, his voice so soft now, almost coaxing, “Besides, I personally think that you’d be my Shakira.”

You let out a laugh at that but inwardly melted at his sincerity. “Okay, fine.”

As you stepped into the bathroom to change, the soft click of the door closing behind you did little to block out the swirl of critical thoughts rushing through your mind.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a long moment before slipping into the outfit. As you pulled the top over your shoulders, you couldn’t help but notice how the fabric felt tighter across your chest, how the waistband of the skirt sat differently on your hips. You tugged at the fabric, trying to adjust it as though that might make it fit just like it did in those carefree days. But it didn’t. The outfit was a little snugger now, and that familiar feeling of unease began to creep in.

You bit your lip, studying yourself more intently. Your reflection seemed foreign, as though it didn’t belong in the same outfit you’d worn just a few years ago. This isn’t how it used to look. You felt the uncomfortable weight of your own self-doubt creeping in, clouding the excitement that had originally made you agree to Sylus’s request.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open startled you, and you turned quickly. Sylus was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The moment his gaze landed on you, your stomach twisted. You were still caught in your spiral of self-doubt, suddenly feeling too exposed in front of him. His eyes moved over you slowly, taking in the fabric of the outfit, the shimmer of the beads catching the light.

"You look stunning," he said, his voice quiet, but steady.

You crossed your arms over your chest, awkwardly, almost like you were trying to hide yourself. You couldn’t help it; the words still felt distant, not quite convincing enough. "It... doesn’t fit like it used to," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, like the words themselves might shatter the fragile confidence you were trying to hold onto. "I— I don’t know... I don’t look the same anymore."

He took a slow step toward you, his movements easy, as if he were already certain of what he wanted to say — and for a moment, it calmed the frantic chatter in your mind. You felt your breath catch when his hands reached out, gently pushing your arms away from your body. He gently lifted your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his.

“You know," he said softly, "it doesn’t matter how it used to fit. You look beautiful. You always look beautiful.”

His eyes, warm and steady, never wavered from yours as he continued, “The outfit doesn’t define you. You define it. You always have.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing, the lingering doubts still tugging at you. “But I—” you began, but Sylus cut you off with a gentle shake of his head, his thumb softly brushing against your chin.

“You’re perfect the way you are,” he said, the words carrying an undeniable sincerity that stopped you in your tracks. “Nothing has changed about how amazing you are. The body you have now? It’s the one I fell in love with. And I’m telling you, the way you move your curves in that outfit...” He let out a soft chuckle, eyes twinkling with affection. “It’s gonna be ten times better than before, I promise.”

His words were so simple, but there was such undeniable truth to them. The self-consciousness that had taken root in your chest slowly started to loosen, replaced by a warm sense of reassurance. Sylus wasn’t looking at you with the same judgmental gaze you feared; he was seeing you beyond the nerves and self-doubt, straight to the person you were, right there, in front of him.

With a deep breath, you let your arms fall to your sides, as the last traces of doubt melted away. His words had broken through that negative cloud hanging over you, and you realized he wasn’t seeing what you saw when you looked at yourself. He wasn’t comparing you to anyone or anything, least of all some distant, youthful version of yourself.

You took a steadying breath and finally gave him a smile, one that was small but full of gratitude. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.”

Sylus’s grin broke wide across his face, the warmth in his eyes making your heart skip a beat. “That’s my girl,” he said, stepping back to give you some space. “I’m going to wait for the show.”

When you emerged a few minutes after him, Sylus was waiting on the bed, looking up at you with such anticipation that you couldn’t help but feel your heart stuttering. His eyes traced the delicate beads that shimmered along the top of the outfit, the way the skirt swayed as you moved. His gaze was so full of admiration that it made you feel almost weightless.

The first few seconds of music you had set filled the room, and you closed your eyes, letting the sound settle into your bones. You took a breath and rolled your shoulders, letting your hips follow the flow.

And then — you began.

Your arms rose slowly, your wrists circling with delicate precision as you stepped lightly into the center of the room. The maroon fabric swayed around your legs as your body moved in time with the music. Your hips rolled with practiced, fluid ease — slow at first, teasingly graceful — before picking up the rhythm in waves, each movement melting into the next like silk.

You could feel his eyes on you, heavy and electric, and the weight of his attention made your skin tingle with awareness. Every time you dared to sneak a glance at him, your heart jumped.

He looked completely, utterly undone.

Sylus was frozen where he sat, his hands now curled slightly on his thighs, his lips parted as if he’d meant to say something but had forgotten how. A faint flush had risen high on his cheeks and spilled down his neck, staining his skin a soft rose. His jaw flexed once, but still — no words. Just him, utterly transfixed.

His gaze followed the sway of your torso, the flick of your fingers, the arch of your back as you turned. You dipped your chin coyly, catching him again in a quick glance — and that time, you saw the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow, his breath coming more shallow now. One of his hands had gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white.

He was mesmerized.

The confidence he’d planted in you just minutes earlier was blooming now, unfurling with every step, every isolated roll of your stomach, every beat that your body translated into movement. You weren’t just dancing to entertain him. You were dancing because it felt good to be seen again. To be desired exactly as you were. To feel alive inside your own skin.

The music faded into a soft echo, and you stood in your final pose, chest rising and falling delicately with your breath, the air thick between you and Sylus. You let the silence linger for just a heartbeat longer before taking a slow step forward.

Then another.

His gaze tracked every inch of you like a man possessed.

You walked with a purposeful sway, letting your hips roll just a little more exaggeratedly than necessary, enjoying the soft jingle of the beads at your waist. You stopped just in front of him, his knees between yours, your fingertips trailing lightly up the side of his jaw, testing him.

Sylus tilted his face into your touch, but he still didn’t speak. His pupils were fully dilated, and the way he licked his lips made heat bloom low in your nether regions. He looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to worship you or pull you into him and never let go.

You leaned in close, your lips barely brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, voice soft, “You’re staring.”

His breath hitched. “Can you blame me?”

A slow smile curled across your lips. You didn’t say anything. Instead, you leaned back just enough to let him see the glint in your eyes before you took a half-step closer and eased onto his lap.

Sylus went completely still beneath you, his hands hovering instinctively at your sides like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you yet. You sat sideways, one leg hooked over his, the skirt of your costume falling open just enough to show the stretch of your thighs. Your fingertips toyed with the fabric at your own hip, the corner of your mouth lifting playfully.

You tilted your head, your voice lowering to a purr. “Did I drive you crazy, huh?”

Sylus leaned in, his nose brushing the line of your jaw, lips ghosting your ear as he whispered, “Absolutely.”

His hands found their place now, sliding around your waist with a reverent kind of slowness, thumbs brushing your bare skin where the top met the curve of your belly. You laughed softly, letting your fingers slide through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You let out a startled sound — a breathy half-gasp, half-laugh — as Sylus suddenly flips you onto your back with such fluidity it leaves your head spinning, causing the maroon fabric of your skirt to fan out around you like a pool of molten silk, catching the soft light, shimmering with the motion. He’s above you now, propped up on his forearms, his body warm and solid over yours, his eyes shining with a mix of lust and unmistakable tenderness.

Your laughter dies down into a soft hum as you meet his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you speak. You feel the weight of his stare, not possessive, but present, grounding you in the moment like nothing else ever had.

Then, his hands slowly begin to move, skimming along the maroon fabric that clings to your body, fingers light and reverent. “What a pretty dress,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with awe before his sanguine eyes flicker up to you. You smile at the compliment, but it’s what he says next that truly knocks the breath from your lungs.

“And what a prettier you.”

You can’t help the way your breath catches again, how you instinctively roll your eyes, embarrassed but secretly delighted. A blush surges hot up your neck, and you bite your lower lip in a bashful attempt to temper your reaction, but it’s useless — he sees right through you. And judging by the soft, crooked grin on his face, he likes that he can still surprise you.

Before you can even gather a response, Sylus moves — shifts lower, slower, with deliberate care — and plants the softest kiss on your ankle. Your breath hitches again. Then another kiss, just above it. He works his way upward, mouth brushing along your calf, your knee, your inner thigh — lingering longer, his stubble grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp softly and squirm beneath him.

He continues with an almost worshipful focus, trailing higher still, the kisses dotting your soft belly now. He works his way up to your ribs, your shoulders, then along the delicate curve of your collarbone. You’re giggling now, high and breathy, unable to stop yourself, both from the ticklish trail of his mouth and the sheer overwhelming affection of it all. His kisses turn playful along your jaw, your cheeks, the tip of your nose — until finally, finally — his lips brush yours.

It starts as the softest kiss — just a whisper of contact. Then another. And then a deeper one, as though he’s trying to pour everything he feels into that single moment. His hand cradles the side of your face, thumb stroking gently against your cheekbone. When he pulls back — just enough to breathe — you're a kind of giddy that comes from being loved so thoroughly it leaves no room for doubt. You blink up at him, trying to gather yourself, but all that spills out is a shaky laugh as you cover your face with your hands.

You peek at him from behind your hands after a while, unable to stop smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

Sylus grins down at you, before wrapping your legs around his waist. You instantly pick up on his intentions and tease, “We were supposed to unpack.”

“Later, sweetie.” He murmurs, nudging your nose with his, “Let me have you for now.”