Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional. This never happened, only in my head.
My Lord that boy's eyes are bright. Well, I knew that before but I mean tonight, they're even brighter. I swear they are. I look around the table. Viggo only makes a passing glace, over-aesthetic bugger. Sean looks at him like he's his first-born son. Billy and Dom are too engrossed about some joke while throwing sidelong glances at him. And then there's me. Staring blatantly; he's yet to meet my gaze but the light blush in his cheeks tells me that he feels it. And how could he not, any minute now I'm waiting for the moment when I'm going to see through him, I've been staring so hard. This is getting me nowhere. I kill my drink, wincing because I'd forgotten that I ordered a Jack Daniels straight. Tears brim my eyes as I slide off the end of the booth. Where's Bean when I need him.
Through a door in the back I ventured into a familiar place, where the floor is littered with people and you can feel the bass vibrate through your body. I walk over to a shadowy place near the bar, waiting to find the right partner. She's there, dancing by herself but not for herself. There are many watching but none brave enough to step up. Hell, I've never been one to back down, but I've never been obvious either. I walk past, making eye contact briefly as I take an empty seat at a table near the dance floor. The "give me a reason to keep dancing" stare and the way she moves her hips are enticing, she definitely had my attention. A new song drifts over, slower with a deeper bass. Here goes nothing. I get up and walk past her again; the disappointment on her face is plain enough. I smile to myself; she's got no idea. I head back to the bar but I don't linger and I step out onto the dance floor. I come up right behind her, letting my hand settle on the curve of her hip. She turns her head, smiles genuinely and moves back until her body is comfortably settled with mine. Her hips move in that exact way, her back arches perfectly, and if we didn't have clothes on I might as well be burying my now hard cock deep inside her right in the middle of the cheap vinyl dance floor. I close my eyes and let the bass take over me, making me light headed. My head falls back as my hands move from her hips to the juncture of her thighs and rub slow, tantalizing circles through the thin fabric of her skirt. I can feel the muscles in her stomach quiver briefly against my forearms. She arches her back just a little more and I grind my hips into her a little harder, feeling my hard dick settle itself between her cheeks.
Images float through my mind of the two of us in some back bathroom, fucking wildly against a graffiti wall, the stench of humanity filling our nostrils as we give in to our most primal instincts. Her pressed against that nasty wall, skirt hiked up around her waist, thong pulled aside, and a foot on the toilet seat, is making the undulations of her hips even harder to deny. Some girls just love to grind, they're built for it. And when you meet one, they always do this to you. I run my hands over her hips again but they catch on the belt loops of a pair of low-slung denim jeans. I open my eyes and smile at the woman who is now facing me and dancing with Dom. I close my eyes again as I slip my hands under his button down shirt and come around his stomach. My hands are splayed out, framing his bellybutton and I slid them down the front of his jeans, my thumbs just grazing the sides of his erection. I lean in, his height being a great advantage, "How long were you watching?" I punctuate my question with a long thrust of my hips, getting up under him so he slides down my body. He turns his head, making a show of lowering his lashes and whispers,
"The moment you left."
He licks my lower lip with the very tip of his tongue and slides a hand back between our grinding hips. I take a quick nip at his earlobe when he squeezes my crotch, trying to hold in a moan. Wouldn't want to sound desperate now would I. He smiles that smile again and I lean my head back to give into the feeling of his hips and mine and the bass thrumming through my veins. Hands cover mine and he squeezes them gently before leading me to the back bathroom. So instead of her I get him, not bad old boy, not bad at all. He's dragging me by now, my feet having slowed as I stared at his ass, lost in thought. Once in the bathroom he flings me toward the nearest stall.
Before the door is even locked his lips are on mine. This boy's on fire. His kisses are hard and fast, almost frantic. I pull him hard against me, his erection grinding into my thigh. Drawing back for air he attacks my neck, moving the collar of my shirt with his nose all the while humping my leg. I move a hand down and stroke and the bulge in his jeans every time he kisses my skin. When he stops kissing me to take a breath, I stop stroking. The whimper he makes is adorable. I remove my hand and turn his lips back to mine. This kiss is a little less desperate but still far from soft, biting lips and hard tongues. He moves his hand from my chest down to my fly. I can feel each catch as the zipper comes undone, my cock slowly released from it's confines. He looks up at me and winks with those devilish blue eyes. The bastard, he's left my zipper halfway done and the button untouched. I breathe in, trying to make my _expression as impassive as possible as I slide down the bathroom wall until I'm crouched with the wall supporting me and my face is level with his crotch. I make quick work of his belt and yank one side of his fly, masterfully undoing every button.
