He's the most beautiful young man you've ever seen, spinning and slithering in the middle of the dance floor like he's all fluid. His hair is a mess of spikes that glow neon under the club lights, and his lips that are occasionally moving along to the music look so plump and sweet. His legs are long- hell, his body is long, a body he sometimes slides his hands down in subconscious sensuality. And through it all his eyes are closed while he's lost in his private rhythm.
You're not the only one whose noticed. A lot of young women and even a couple men have been glancing worshipfully at him. Oh no, not tonight, interlopers. This one's been heating you up just by looking and you want- hell, need- a lot more than just looking. You finish your drink in one gulp, get off the bar stool, adjust your skirt, and start a smooth rhythm of getting to the dance floor that sways your hips and clicks your heels.
When you finally approach him, the heat between your legs just aches at seeing more of his beauty. He has a strong bridge of a nose with a cute little downturn, a touch of stubble along his jawline, and oh god, his eyelids are smudged by liner. He's perfect.
"Is this spot taken?" you coo and boldly put your hands on his hips. Mmm, such a solid body.
His eyes fly open as he's broken out of his trance. You can't quite make out the color, somewhere between green and blue, but they're big and beautiful. And since you're matching his height in your heels, you can take in every detail.
"Oh, uh, hi." He looks you up and down and quickly smiles like he's hit the jackpot.
"Not interrupting anything, am I?" you ask and glide your tongue under your glossed upper lip.
"Nope." His hands hover in the air for a moment before resting on your own hips and he sways a little to continue dancing.
You laugh to yourself; looks like you picked up a sweetie. You pull his body closer in silent granted permission of contact until your lips are practically breathing the same air.
"Ooh-" he gets the idea quickly. One hand weaves into your hair and the other settles on your ass- such large and warm hands he has- and his sways turn into grinding against you.
"Mmm..." Oh, yes, sweetie with a naughty side. Even through your skirt he's touching all your sensitive nerves; you can just tell he's a big boy. You lick your lips and move your hips in a figure-eight to return the favor, and his moan is as sweet as the music.
You continue to writhe and grind together to the rhythm; he's so good at it you're feeling just as wet inside as you are outside. Somewhere along all your moaning and sighing first names get exchanged, everything's just become a hazy blur of lust. You slowly rake your fingers through his surprisingly soft mess of spikes and watch him roll his head to the side.
"You're so pretty I could kiss you all over," you whisper and not so subtly nudge your breasts, contained by your corset top but showing just enough skin to be tantalizing, against his chest.
"Yeah..." A drop of sweat glows on his neck under the lights, but before you can playfully flick it away he leans close enough for the outer layer of his lip skin to brush at yours.
You take the bait and seal your lips over his, moans reverberating through your body. Just as soft and sweet as you imagined, tinged with a little sweat and alcohol. The club's music has segued into a slightly slower beat and you stroke along his back in time. Even just the one layer of his shirt is one layer too many over his muscles.
"Ahh..." His tongue slips past the seam of your mouth, all exuberance and desperation. With a playful giggle you let your tongue poke and bump along his. So thick and yummy...
When he breaks the kiss he turns you around in his hold, hands on your stomach and nuzzling kisses in the crook of your neck. Oh, he's good, real good. You grind against his hips and especially what's between them while he paws you all over and you keep dancing.
Whenever his hands brush over your breasts or between your legs, you can't help the shiver no matter how sweating you are. Young men typically aren't shy about what they like and want, and his actions are practically screaming his desire from the rooftops. Oh, if you could hear him scream-
You turn and drape your arms around his neck. "I've got a room upstairs for the night...if you feel like it," you offer and lick your lips. All up to him now.
He breathes deeply as he looks you up and down again, and something in his eyes seems to darken. You brace yourself for the answer that you're too old for him after all, or he already has a girlfriend, or he doesn't sleep around like that-
"Sure," he finally says and lazily draws a finger down the pattern the ribbon ties make on your top.
You sigh in both relief and at the touch. Neither of you are going to regret this. You kiss his top lip and take his wrist to lead him out of the club towards the hotel elevator, the music slowly getting fainter and fainter until you can actually hear your breathing.
Out of the neon lights you can get a better look at him. His hair is a bleach job with peeks of his natural roots, and you suspect when he's not working up a sweat his skin is creamy enough to look delicious. Right now his mouth is smiling so adorably but you keep self-control on kissing it for another moment. While you're waiting for the elevator you smooth your hair down and dab sweat from your face, taking a little makeup with it, but you've always had a young-looking face so he doesn't seem freaked out. In fact, he actually grins and says, "You're really pretty."
Ooh, there's that aching again; a compliment like that always does it to you. "Thank you, baby," you wink and pull him into the elevator when the doors open.
