Just like I feared, that plane of reality disintegrates right there at my feet. I know it's the worst reaction ever, but I can't help it when a groan tears out of me. I reach up with one hand to scrub down my face, trying desperately to find a gleam of reason left in my brain. My other hand drops down and applies enough pressure to my cock to stop it from erupting on the spot.
I'd never heard of bedlah, but I've sure as shit seen it before, and while Qiang has a much more scantily clad version of one on than I’ve ever seen, I still recognize the dozens of coin-shaped discs on the belly-dancing outfit.
Instead of the sheer fabric ones I’ve seen in movies and a few performances throughout my life, their top has no fabric at all. It’s made entirely out of clasps and beads strung together. There’s a long, thin chain that attaches at the top of each side and wraps around the back of their neck, and another that attaches to the sides and wraps around their back. The chains make the top into a midriff-cut-off halter, with so much skin peeking out from beneath the layers ofmetal. The bottoms are a pair of tight little leather booty shorts with more metal clasps dangling around their hips.
It’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life, but when I see hesitation in their eyes at my complete breakdown at the sight of them, I draw in a wavering breath.
“You'rereallytrying to kill me, Qiang,” I barely manage to croak out.
It’s a god-awful noise that ekes out of me from a state of breathlessness and a neediness that’s so deeply ingrained I don’t even know how I didn’t realize how far it went until now.
Their lips curl with nervousness, their cheeks tinting in the barest hint of shyness at the praise.
“So, then you like?” they ask, doing a little twirl to show off their perfect backside.
They are too far away to touch, something that hits me painfully in the chest because I know if I try to stand and close the distance, I’ll fall on my ass. I can’t even feel my legs right now, let alone try to stand on them.
“Is there really any possibility of not liking it?” I breathe out.
They turn back around to face me, their lip curled between their teeth. “Do you want to see more?”
“There'smore,” I choke out, and I know my eyes must be comically wide by now.
Some random far-off part of my brain still has the wherewithal to scoff ‘obviously’ in my head at the question, but the rest of me is too spellbound to care.
“Yeah, as I said earlier, I’ve only ever taught myself, and no one’s ever seen any of this before, so I could be total shit at it and wouldn't even know,” they say with a mixture of nervous energy and something else that’s building.
They know my reaction. They can see how much I’m dying at the sight of them right now, and it’s taking away the fear they felt in allowing themself to be vulnerable in front of me. Their confidence is growing, even if they are still nervous about showing me more.
“Not possible,” I tell them solidly, meeting their eyes and knowing every ounce of lust I’m feeling is completely naked in my gaze.
A shy smirk spreads across their face. “Okay, press play when I say,” they tell me, handing me their phone.
I don't even look at the song choice, just stare at them while they go back to the middle of the room and turn so that the long miles of their smooth-skinned back are facing me. Nothing but the thin strand of gold to highlight the golden tint of their tanned skin.
“Okay, now,” they breathe, and it takes me a moment to remember I was supposed to be doing something here.
It takes my unusually uncoordinated hands a couple of fumbles before I finally manage to press play.
There's a breath of silence before the first note plays. Their hip pops to the side, the first ting of metal trilling through the room, and just like that, Idie. There's nothing left to be said. I can'tbreatheas I watch them.
They've always been some superior level of pretty, but this leaves the human realm behind; this is some deity-level shit.
Their body moves to the beat, the metal pieces clanging in time while my heartbeat syncs to them. It's a tangible tether that they attach from their body straight to my heart.
The music picks up, dips down, and then picks up again. Each part is specifically designed to showcase different types of movements, all of which Qiang executes with divine grace.
I don’t know enough about belly dancing to say what level they are at, as far as technicalities are concerned. What Idoknow is that every move they’ve made has furthered my understanding of what perfection means.
Every sensual pop of their hips, the way their stomach dips, the graceful movements of their arms, and the alluring expression on their face. They are absolutely driving me wild, and my cock hurts so bad that I swear if this goes much longer, it’ll explode on its own.
Qiang does some sort of full-body roll before each hip punches out in a perfectly timed sequence that I have to reach down for the thousandth time since they started and pinch the tip of my dick tokeep from spilling over. I groan painfully at the edging before I notice that Qiang’s hips are within reach.
I don’t think; I just move, reaching out and wrapping my arms around their waist and pulling them into me until they’re straddled over my lap. Their body feels so good on mine, and the hard ridge I can feel on my abdomen tells me exactly how much Qiang enjoyed their show too.
“Marcus, it wasn't over,” they purr in a voice that lacks every ounce of fight that might have signaled they were actually annoyed by the interruption, if that had been the case.
While leaving one hand on their back, my fingers kneading into their supple skin, the other moves to their front to run up their top. Some of my fingers get caught in the maze of metal clasps, while the rest flit up to the warm skin beneath. A delightful shiver runs through them when my thumb brushes against their taut nipple.
