title: Storybuilder
fandom: Princess Tutu
characters/pairings: Aotoa/Fakir-ish
rating: G
warnings: none
summary: Fakir dances.
notes: CalicoKitten, her ficlet on demand. BIG WARNING! i have not seen, or even heard of before this, Princess Tutu. i did find a couple of nifty websites, but yanno. so, i have no way of judging if this is canon or not, thus, it becomes AU. ^_~ and if it majorly sucks, well... i have no way of knowing that, either.

Chopin. It had to be Chopin.

His feet moved across the polished floorboards, the music as much in control of his body as the strong hands behind him, and the feet that were leading him. He was unused to this position, but he was a dancer, as much as anyone else in the school, even if he was not the star.

"This is how it works. There is the music, the setting, which determines the tempo."

He closed his eyes and let it all happen, just let it wash over him, like warm rain on a summer day, soft and gentle and cleansing.

"There is the leader, and the follower. But just because I lead you doesn't mean I make you dance; we work in concert."

The breath against his neck was driving him crazy. He wanted to bolt away, to jump off the darkened stage and run back to his room, to his Mute, to his life, which was not some dim copy of a life better lived. Wanted to, but it was Chopin, and he loved Chopin, as much as his predecessor had, even more perhaps, he hoped.

"I choose the music, which makes you want to dance, but there is still choice. I am not making you glide over the floor."

Arms came around him, and his back was drawn against a chest. He sighed, and let it go, let go his resistance, his fear, his irrational loathing. He wanted to enjoy the dance.

"You choose this. This is my story, my music, my dancer, following where I lead... But you are you. I cannot make you go where you will not follow."

He was spun around, spread out, drawn in, and dipped down. Aotoa held him steady, his eyes boring into his, suspending him over the dance floor with a fervent glee.

"This is a choice."

Lips touched his, and maybe it was his choice to part his lips, and allow what was happening to come to pass.

Just because he gave into the seduction, that didn't mean that he wasn't seduced.