Lean On

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"Hi. I would like to request a story. I love the twins bring super affectionate so can I just have the fluffiest, super touchy feely kissy twins on the planet? No sex but them just being really clingy?" - anon

Sorry about the long silence, hopefully I'll be posting more regularly. I needed to write something to warm up again. I don't really feel like this entirely captured the essence of the request so I may do another story like this. Let me know if you guys would like more like this.

Usually when I write, songs inspire me heavily and help me focus. So In case anyone is interested in what I was listening to. Let Love Enter  by Stacy Kidd was what I used during the club scene and I Still Believe by My Digital Kids was what I listened to while writing the rest.


Again, dialogue marked as "+this+" is in French.


WARNING: THIS STORY INCLUDES ADULT CONTENT.

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Larry

The club bends and folds in cold hues. Lights flash from one end of the dance floor to the other on the beat of house music composed of snare and bass plucking. It's an oddly sweet tune for such a scene, but that's what they enjoy about it. The obscurity, the mis-matched crowd. Streaks of blue and pink colors shifting over every darkened silhouette tease his eyes, inviting, begging him to stray from his current focus on his twin. But he doesn't falter, taking in the sight of a tall boy dressed in all black. A halo of purple glowing through his Afro and shimmering on the gold hoops in his ears as he bobs his head to the music. He's barely doing anything, if you weren't looking for it you would have never caught the twitch, the movement in his face and muscles beneath his sweater. But Larry sees it all, waiting in suspenseful contentment. Honeyed lines of saxophone join the rhythm in an almost melancholy tune and only then does Laurent begin his ritual.

He extends his leg in front of himself in a ballerina-like stance, and it starts in his toes. Just barely touching the dance floor. Then up his leg and his hip, rolling along his spine. His hands flash and twirl around his torso up into his hair where they fan out in a glamorous motion.  Laurent's knees touch the floor and he spins onto his feet tracing the outline of the circle he had made for himself, threatening to collide with the people around him. Larry swears he can feel the wisp of air as he goes by and it sends a visible chill down his spine. He can't help but smile. When he comes to his feet again he rises throwing his head back and continuing to follow the solid thudding base of the song, moving with every beat as if he can't control himself.  Larry knows his brother's limits, knows that he has full manipulation of his body, every bit of the music utilized into the tips of his fingers. Not a single note escaping once it has entered his being.  He's soaking it up greedily with his hips, breathing it into his chest and making it his own. But Larry also knows, his precision in physical control is not so easily applied to mental control.  He sees the way Laurent lets his mind come unhinged, becomes lost to the melody. A doubled edged sword that makes his dance as pure as it is dangerous.

Laurent drops to the ground again this time with his legs on either side of him. An expression on his features that even Larry can't decipher to be pain or pleasure. His eyes are closed and he tilts his head back as his hand spreads over his chest, touching himself like a lover would. The crowd whistles and screams, awed by the display.  Their cheering is muffled behind the house music in a dreamy white noise.  The sound is lost between the two of them, because Larry knows it's not these people who Laurent is dancing for. He doesn't toss himself to the floor and writhe in physical harmonics for the eyes these nameless party goers. Laurent puts everything into the exhibition for his brother, spills himself open onto the dance floor knowing Larry is eating up every bit of it like a sweet dessert. And as much as Larry would love for his twin to give everything he's got, he can't help but see the exhaustion in his steps. As soft and beautiful as it is, he knows the dance must come to an end.

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