---
The music thundered through the house, rattling the windows and vibrating the soles of Fred's sneakers. The air was thick with the scent of spilled beer, sweat, and too much cheap body spray. Bodies moved in a tangled mass under flashing neon lights--limbs entwined, hips grinding shamelessly, laughter rising and falling against the heavy bass line.
Fred took it all in without real interest, letting his eyes drift over the room. He stood leaning against the wall furthest from the dance floor, idly swirling the half-empty beer in his hand. He took a sip--and grimaced. It had long since gone tepid. The taste did nothing to help his brooding thoughts.
Parties were Trent's scene, not his. The forced laughter, the exaggerated bravado, the constant pressure to fit in--it always made him feel isolated, even amidst the crush of bodies. I should be engaging more, he thought distantly. But it always seemed so daunting--what if he did or said something wrong? He tugged at his collar, feeling stiff and awkward. He wondered briefly if anyone would notice him slipping out the back door.
An elbow dug into his rib suddenly, making him gasp. Scowling, he turned. Trent stood nearby, loosely clutching a bottle, a too-wide grin on his face. Already shitfaced.
"Dude, you look like you're at a funeral. Loosen up!" Trent shouted above the pounding beat, sloshing a bit of beer onto Fred's shirt.
Fred sighed, brushing away the droplets. "And you look like you're ten minutes away from being transported."
Trent laughed, unfazed, wobbling in place as he play-punched Fred on the shoulder. "Gonna plead the fifth to that." He took a deep swig of his beer, before setting it down with a loud thud.
"Seriously though, you're missing out. Check it - hot blondie in the mesh top." He nodded toward a slender figure swaying in rhythm to the music. "Totally checking you out, dude. Been watching you for the last ten minutes."
"Bullshit, man. You've been here, like, five seconds."
"Okay, fine, two minutes tops," Trent conceded with an easy grin. "But trust me, I've got a sixth sense about these things. She's into you. Go talk to her."
Fred hesitated, glancing at Trent, eyes narrowed. Trent just raised his beer in mock salute. "Come on--would I do you dirty?"
"Absolutely, you would," Fred retorted, but his eyes had already drifted. As if on cue, the figure in the crowd wiggled their butt enticingly, moving in perfect sync with the rhythm. Fred watched for a bit, drawn in despite his misgivings. It had been a while...
Exhaling hard, he downed the last of his beer, and pushed his empty Solo cup into Trent's waiting hand. "Wish me luck," he muttered dryly, Trent hooting crassly behind him.
---
Fred weaved through the packed bodies, the music pulsing hot and heavy through his chest. The closer he got, the louder the beat, the warmer the bodies pressed against him. Soon he found himself standing directly behind the mysterious blonde, watching the graceful sway of hips, the way the slender shoulders moved in effortless rhythm.
"Uh... hey."
The blonde glanced back over a bare shoulder. Fred caught a brief glimpse of mascara, glitter, and the teasing curl of a full mouth. "Hey yourself", came the smooth reply, soft and rich with invitation.
Fred's heart kicked harder. Without thinking, he took a step closer. "You're really good," he offered. "I was... watching." He groaned mentally as he said it. Way to sound like a creep, he thought.
But a soft laugh vibrated through the other's frame as their hips rolled back, lightly brushing Fred's thighs. "You haven't even seen me at my best yet."
Fred's confidence surged. He leaned in, feeling breathless, heart pounding louder than the bass around them. "Yeah?" he murmured, voice low, husky with growing desire. "Maybe you should show me."
Their bodies melted together, Fred's reservations dissolving as he gave in fully to the thrill. His steps were awkward at first, but his partner was all too happy to lead--and soon, he found himself slipping into an easy cadence, matching the roll of hips grinding back against him. For a time, he just savored the soft press of flesh against his own. Amazing ass, he thought. He felt his cock twitch.
Lost in sensation, Fred spun his partner gently, fingertips brushing against warm, impossibly smooth skin, eager to see the face he'd been dancing with. The figure turned gracefully, soft eyes meeting his gaze. And it was then that Fred realized.
It wasn't a girl.
It was a guy.
Fred's stomach plummeted. His breath caught, frozen in shock, their faces separated only by inches. He wanted to step away, but his body refused to move. Opposite him, the boy's grin widened, playful and knowing, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something else--interest?
"Hey, cutie," he purred, voice rich and sweet, intimate even amidst the thundering music. "Nice to meet you. I'm Eli." Lidded eyes looked up at him, warm and inviting. Fred couldn't help but notice the glitter gloss on his lips, his gaze trailing downwards to a slender, lithe chest draped in a tight mesh shirt. Fingers gently brushed Fred's hip. A strange thrill shot down his spine, and he felt his cock throb once, painfully.
The sensation made him start. Fred jerked back as if burnt, panic rising hot and sharp. Without thinking, he slapped Eli's hand away. The younger boy recoiled instantly, retreating beneath his blonde curls, a stung expression on his face.
"Shit!" Instantly he knew he'd fucked up. Fred's pulse pounded sharply as he reached out clumsily, feeling helpless. Fumbling for the words. "Fuck, I'm sorry--um--"
---
Just then, laughter exploded behind him. Harsh, humiliating, deafening. Fred whipped around, eyes wide. Trent was doubled over, roaring with laughter, pointing gleefully, beer sloshing from his cup.
"Told you he'd do it! Pay up, dickheads." Trent was already handing out high-fives, eyes bright with drunken triumph, his laughter booming louder than anyone's. The sound grated against his ears like broken glass. Fred felt anger boil hot and fast in his chest, drowning out his thoughts with raw fury.
He didn't remember moving, just suddenly knew that he was there, right in Trent's face, jaw set like stone. "Yo, look who's back!" Trent guffawed, mouth twisted in a boorish grin. "Think you're gonna get lucky tonight?"
"Eat shit, asshole." Fred's voice came out low, dangerous, tight with barely restrained violence. The silence that followed was immediate and deafening. Footsteps shuffled, eyes darted away. In a heartbeat, a space had cleared around the two of them.
Trent's smile faltered. "Relax, dude. It was just a joke--"
"A joke?" He heard himself snarl, stepping closer, eyes blazing. "Your whole life is a fucking joke."
He roughly shoved Trent into a nearby table, making him topple to the ground with a crash. The contents of half-a-dozen Solo cups spilled onto him and the floor.
"Hey!" Scrabbling ineffectively on the ground, Trent flung arms up instinctively as Fred strode up. But Fred stopped a foot away, giving Trent a venomous look before hocking a big mouthful and spitting.
The glob landed flush on his face. Trent sputtered, eyes wide with shock and fear, wiping frantically at the spit dripping down his chin. "Jesus, dude--what the hell--" His voice died abruptly as Fred stepped closer, looming, mutinous.
Nobody moved. For a moment he stood still, coldly contemplating the naked fear in Trent's eyes. Finally, he exhaled hard, fists still clenched tight. Then turned away, disgusted. "You ever fuck with me again, I'll break your fucking jaw."
Spinning on his heel, Fred shoved brusquely through the crowd, leaving a trail of disgruntlement echoing in his wake. He didn't care - right now, he just had to be alone.
He didn't notice the soft footsteps following after him.
