#orchidscript fic

**

Ilya dropped his head back onto the couch cushions and closing his eyes. I struck gold in knowing you, Shane.

Between the pops of the tennis ball and his ping-ponging thoughts, Ilya nearly missed the sound of heels on the hardwood floor. He wouldn’t have opened his eyes, or come to attention, if he hadn’t heard her clear her throat.

Ilya froze where he sat, stunned into silence.

“Well?” Shane drawled. “What do you think?”

Curled tendrils of black hair framed her face, the most logical place for Ilya to start. Her eyes stared back, dark and glittering underneath a fringe of lashes. Freckles faintly dotted her cheekbones – not vanished under powder and cream, thank goodness – only just softening the second blow of rose petal red lipstick on her plush mouth.

His mouth dropped as he registered her dress, her form filling it out.

Her body was wrapped in deep black. Modern for its asymmetrical bodice, one long sleeve and thigh-high slit, revealing the smooth, golden length of her leg. Classic for the depth of the color, the way it skimmed her chest and waist and thighs all the way to the floor. Where the hem brushed over the tops of her shoes, their stretched black leather and impossible height made the effect nearly deadly.

Ilya sat up, high breath finally coming back to him in one long, protracted inhale. He felt dizzy. He had to remind himself to suck in another breath, then another; to stand up and swallow and put one foot in front of the other until he came to rest in front of her. Until the palms of his hands skimmed the softness of her waist, finding it just as warm, yielding, and familiar as he’d ever known.

Fic is C’est Toi by yours truly

Magic on West 62nd | Orchidscript

It's Christmas time in the city... Alex Claremont-Diaz is about to be on more Nutcracker closer to death. Despite the innovation and interesting roles his ballet career has brought him, Balanchine's ballet remains an unchangable sticking point in the year. The arrival of a new dancer to the ABT company -- Henry Fox, formerly of the Royal Ballet -- changes the mood in the studio, and Alex becomes convinced this year could be something more. Will Henry's partnership in the studio harken the start of something new outside of it, or will everything stay on stage?

read now on Ao3

The String of Pearls | OrchidScript

The little bottle that had gotten him through the last few days, and many other nights, alone. Henry rose up onto his knees, sucking two fingers into his mouth as he easily slicked two on the other hand, then tucked it behind himself.

By the time Alex tripped into the doorway, Henry would be ready. He would be set. He would be prepared. He would treat them both.

The day dripped from his shoulders with every rivulet running across his skin. Henry was clean and relaxed, and now he had work to do.