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II is distracted.
He’s at his favorite place in the world: behind the turntables at a packed edm club. II loves what he does. He loves being the resident DJ and getting to blast his creations as loud as possible, sharing perfect mixes of kicking drums and outright filthy bass. But tonight his thoughts and eyes wander.
II’s attention keeps going back to one man in the sea of bodies on the dance floor. And not just because they’re probably the tallest person in the building, although admittedly that’s what caught his interest at first. No, II’s eyes return again and again to him. Each time, catching the stranger’s eyes already looking back. Each time, disappointed at how quickly the stranger’s eyes dart away.
II can’t put his finger on it at first, on why his gaze keeps sticking. The stranger just feels… electric. Like a live wire inhabiting a human being, full of buzzing energy waiting for someone to flip the switch. II doesn’t think it’s their dancing, though he could spend entirely too long admiring the way the man writhes. The angle of his hips peeking out from low-slung cargo pants. The sheen of sweat visible beneath a mesh shirt. The long limbs. The angle of his head as it tilts back, eyes closed. The way his nearly-white hair moves and flashes under the strobe lights. II almost thinks it’s his smile, beaming occasionally, even brighter than the fucked up hair. But no. As II pauses to sip on an energy drink, the stranger looks up at the booth again and II knows. It’s the eyes. Brilliant blue, lit up despite the darkness of the club. Their gaze stays steady this time and cuts through the air, sharp daggers and searing lasers, directly at II.
It makes him feel like he’s on fire. He dressed for the heat of the club, but sweat still drips down his back despite the open sided tank top, stage lights warming his bare shoulders. And now this man’s eyes are burning a hole into his soul.
II feels more than just the caffeine buzzing in his veins as he plays.
—
II sits at the bar, nursing a drink. He’d looked for the stranger after his set, but couldn’t spot the blond anywhere. So now he sits, coming down from the performance high. He listens to the new guest DJ—who isn’t half bad—as his mind strays back to the stranger with unholy thoughts.
“Hey.” A tap on the shoulder pulls II out of his musings.
II turns and has to look up. The stranger from the crowd is leaning against the bar right next to him, as if offered up on a silver platter by the universe. II sends a silent prayer of thanks to whatever depraved god may be listening, as he takes a sip of his drink and lets himself look the stranger up and down briefly. He’s even taller up close. And somehow even more striking, seeming to buzz with energy even while standing still, as if ready to snap into frenetic motion at a moment’s notice. II tears his eyes away from the angular body. Tries to play it cool despite the heat rising to his cheeks as he meets blue eyes with his own. “Hey. Alright?”
“What’re ya drinking? Buy you another?”
“Vodka Redbull, but I was just having the one.” II mentally curses his unthinking response, thrown off a bit by the stranger’s presence. The fuck is wrong with him? He’s usually so composed, even smooth when he tries to be. Luckily the stranger doesn’t seem deterred.
“But you’re II, right? Great set.”
“Thanks mate,” II grins and lifts his glass. “Really appreciate it.”
“Also, my friend thinks you’re hot.”
Oh. That’s… not what II was hoping for. His grin falters. But fuck it, maybe he’ll see where it goes. He raises an eyebrow, “Yeah? Have I seen them?”
“Oh, definitely. You can’t miss ‘em.”
“What do they look like?” II starts to scan the crowd behind the stranger as he takes a sip of his drink.
“Tall. Mesh top. Killer smile.”
II pauses mid drink. Looks back at the stranger. Angles his neck to look past the mesh-covered torso and up at the mischievous grin. Oh. II smirks, replies, “Bleached to shit hair?”
The stranger’s face splits into a full smile, dazzling and wicked. “Yeah, you’ve seen them. So..?”
“So, what?”
“What do you think of them?”
“Your… friend?”
“Mhm.” The stranger’s ears begin to turn pink.
“I don’t know… I think I’d prefer to tell them myself. Especially if I want them to know how good they looked from the stage. Or what they had me thinking about.” II pauses, looks them over once more, noting the faint blush appearing high on their cheekbones, contrasting so nicely with the bright eyes and pale hair. “Or exactly what I might want to do to them. Besides, I don’t even know their name—”
“It’s III.”
The interjection makes II pause, drink lifted halfway to his mouth. He smiles. “Okay.” II locks eyes with the taller man over the rim of his glass. Holds and matches their darkening stare as he finishes his drink, unhurried. The stranger doesn’t move save for a muscle flexing in their jaw. II sets down the empty glass and says breezily, “So. III.”
Something in the taller man seems to snap at hearing the name from II’s mouth. “Dance with me.” The low order barely has time to reach II’s ears before he’s being dragged towards the crowd by the hand.
“Oi! I play the beats, I don’t usually dance to them!” II protests. It’s half-hearted.
“Hush. Just follow me.” III doesn’t leave any room to argue.
What they do among the sea of bodies can only loosely be described as dancing. III turns II with his back to him and presses their hips together. Holds the smaller man’s waist with burning hands. Guides his hips to rock with III’s to the music. Brings one of II’s hands up and back to touch III’s neck. It stays at his nape even when III releases it, making the taller man grin. II’s other hand traces the arm that III now has wrapped around his middle.
“See?” III purrs into his ear, just loud enough to hear over the speakers. “You take direction so well.”
II’s hand grips the back of III’s neck where it had been resting, causing the taller man to hiss in surprise, before he turns around so they’re facing each other. He glares up at III, who just looks back down at him with a dark expression. They’re both grinning like maniacs.
For a long while they just sway to the pulsing rhythm, letting each other explore, reveling in searing touches and bone-thumping beats. II leans into every bit of contact. A gentle grip on his waist. A large hand running up his chest, over his collarbones, along his shoulders. The squeeze of a bicep. III can’t seem to get enough either. He’s out of breath from all the dancing, which isn’t helped by II’s thumbs rubbing circles on his hip bones. Or the intensity in II’s eyes gazing up at him, roaming between the taut muscles of his neck and the cut of his jaw.
III leans down to II’s ear. “I saw you watching me dance. Couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off me. See something you like?”
“Maybe. I saw you too, looking up at me on the stage every chance you got.”
III grins. “Can ya blame me? When you play, you get this serious expression on your face, ya look so focused up there. So intense…” He pauses, pins II’s eyes with his own. “I wanted you to look at me like that.”
II curses under his breath and stares up at the taller man. III flicks his eyes down to his mouth. Licks his lips.
“What about your friend?” II smirks.
“Oh, fuck’s sake,” III growls before grabbing II’s face and pulling him into a rough kiss.
II can’t help but crack a smile and laugh into the other man's mouth. The laughter turns into a shuddering breath when III’s hands move to his scalp. The kiss quickly deepens as II bites at III’s lip. III groans and grabs II’s hair, tugging his head back to leisurely kiss along II’s jaw and down his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin while keeping a tight grip at his nape. When the kisses reach the place where II’s shoulder meets his neck, he can’t help but let a small moan escape as his hands fly to grasp III’s shoulders. III pauses for half a second before doubling down, earning a breathless moan as he sucks a dark bruise into the skin. It looks nearly black under the multicolored lights by the time he’s satisfied and goes back to II’s mouth.
The heat from the crowd has turned sweltering. Both of the men are slick with sweat, still moving in time to the pumping music, mouths meeting again and again in a frenzy of teeth and smiles. The kisses become even messier when III licks into II’s mouth. It’s obscene. Filthy. II fucking loves it.
III’s hands continue to wander. His knuckles graze the front of II’s pants and find him completely hard. The shorter man’s hips buck into the touch automatically, and III flips his hand to palm II’s dick through the fabric.
II gasps, pulling back from the kiss, “W-wait, wait—”
III instantly pulls his hand back and worriedly scans II’s face. “I’m sorry, I thought you—”
“I do.” II reassures him. Both of them are panting, their pupils blown wide. “I really do. Just— Come with me.”
II leads them out of the packed dance floor and along the wall until they reach a short hallway with a door marked “Storage — Staff Only.” II shoves the door open to find someone inside leaning against extra speakers and oversized cases to scroll on their phone. One of the bartenders on break? A sound engineer? It doesn’t matter.
“Get the fuck out.” II’s voice has an edge to it that sends a shiver down III’s spine and has the person making a hasty exit.
“Fucking hell—” III barely gets the door shut behind him before II slams him into it, slipping his tongue into his mouth. II stretches to drag a tall crate in front of the door—there’s no lock—without breaking the kiss as he continues to pin and devour III.
II quickly moves from III’s lips to trail kisses along III’s jaw and neck just below the ear. “You looked so good dancing,” he murmurs. “I could barely focus on stage. Nearly missed a cue from watching these fucking hips.” II grabs the taller man’s hips, hard, pulling them flush with his own. He feels their lengths press together through too many layers of fabric.
“Ah! Shut up,” III moans at the bruising grip. “Kiss me again. Keep grabbing me.”
So demanding. But II obliges, noting the response to his rough pressure. He nudges his knee up, pressing it into III’s crotch and earning another moan. III pants into II's mouth as he grinds, desperately seeking any friction he can get.
While III becomes putty, II's gears are turning. He casts a glance sideways and finds a tall speaker case against the wall, covered in cords and spare bits of tech. He turns to throw the cables and fuck knows what else off of the top as he continues to kiss III and walk him backwards, steering him by the hips until his thighs hit the case’s edge. The loss of balance causes III to fall back, plopping down onto the case to put both of their hips at the same level, and the fucker giggles. He reclines back slightly, propped on his elbows, and II doesn’t give him any time to catch his breath as he follows him, leaning down to recapture his mouth.
II wraps his arms around III’s back to pull him closer and feels III’s hands run up his exposed sides. Goosebumps trail in his wake despite the heat as III’s fingers skirt over flexing lats, seeming to appreciate just how much power the shorter man is hiding underneath the soft build.
“Get this fucking shirt off.” III growls, pawing at the tank top. Another demand.
II’s shirt comes off and III’s hands are instantly back on him. III trails his nails up II’s back and sides, scratching lightly and making II shudder. III watches the reaction with hunger glinting in his eyes. He reaches to undo II’s pants, pausing to look up at him before II gives a rapid nod and III makes quick work of the zipper. He wastes no time shoving a large hand into II’s boxers to reach the already straining cock, stroking him firmly from root to tip and thumbing circles over the slit. II gasps and leans forward to brace himself on his hands, hips twitching into III’s grip. When II manages to regain his balance, his hands rush to undo the buckles on III’s cargo pants.
III places a hand on II’s, halting the deft fingers. “Wait, hang on—” He reaches into a pocket to retrieve a packet of lube before holding it out to II. “Here.”
“What, did you set out to seduce a DJ tonight?” II leans back and cocks an eyebrow. His skepticism is quickly pushed aside by the thought of his widening options.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” III huffs. “Just like to be prepared. Glad I was, ‘cause I met this one guy that’s beyond hot, an absolute smoke show. Short, cute. Great taste, really just—” III’s teasing is cut off by II’s mouth back on his for a deep kiss. II takes the packet.
He finishes undoing III’s pants and slips a hand beneath the waistband of his underwear to wrap around his dick, squeezing at the base before tightly stroking his shaft. III parts from the kiss in a throaty moan, and II uses his free hand to lightly grab III’s neck, tipping his head back to place small bites up and down the muscled column of his throat. II continues working his hand along the length of III’s cock, twisting gently at the head, enjoying listening to III’s moans become breathy every time his fingers catch on the ridge.
“II, please…” III’s hands scratch at II’s back, frantic.
“Need something?”
“Mm…! Mmhm—”
“Ask.” II says between kisses.
III makes a confused sound in the back of his throat. II doesn't stop the onslaught of attention.
“You like making demands so much, tell me what you need. I want to hear you ask for it.” II pulls back to look at III’s face and slows his hand slightly.
III continues to pant for a few seconds, cheeks turning pink. His eyes clear slightly as they focus on II’s. “I need you to fuck me.”
II doesn’t hesitate. He has III’s pants stripped before the taller man can blink, shoving his back down onto the case. II steps back between his legs to lean over him, using one hand to push the mesh up his chest so he can place bruising kisses there. As his other hand snakes between III’s legs towards his asshole, II lets out a curse when he feels silicone.
“You're wearing a plug?” II groans, “Where the fuck did you come from?”
III’s chuckle turns into a choked moan as II presses on the base of the plug. II teases him for just a few seconds, enjoying the way III twitches at every nudge, before pulling the toy out gently and tossing it onto the discarded trousers. II tugs the waistband of his boxers down just enough to pull himself free and tears open the packet of lube to slick himself quickly. He doesn’t even give III a glimpse of his aching cock before he presses the head against III’s hole.
He goes slow.
II knows that it’s just a hookup at a club, that he shouldn’t really take his time, that he doesn’t have much time to begin with. He doesn’t fucking care. Watching III’s face contort in pleasure—brow creasing, eyes unfocusing, lips parting—is worth every risk. II inches in, just a little at a time, straining with the effort to hold back. Wishes briefly that he could record the pretty sounds coming from III as his legs wrap around II’s waist. He has to take a second to breathe when he finally bottoms out. Even having worn the plug, III is fucking tight. The pressure threatens to drive II out of his mind, and judging by the noises III is making and the precum leaking from his tip, the stretch is just as delicious for him.
III wiggles his hips—either unconsciously or in impatience, it doesn’t matter—and II starts to move. He pulls out nearly all the way before driving deep in a single smooth thrust, and continues the steady rhythm with rolling hips.
“Gods, you feel so, ah! so good,” II sighs as he shifts, looking for a different angle. He moves III’s leg up to drape over his shoulder and places a firm grip on his thigh.
“Yeah? So do y— Ah, FUCK!” III clamps a hand over his own mouth, barely containing his shout when II finds his prostate.
“Oh?” II’s grin is salacious. “That the spot?”
III can only nod and whimper in response as II grinds back into him, massaging the sweet spot slow and hard. III’s hand muffles his cries, face thrown sideways as his eyes try not to roll back. “Plmse… Mmph— Hhmmrder…”
II places a gentle thumb to III’s jaw, nudging III to face him and remove the hand on his mouth. “Speak up.”
“Please, harder.”
II adjusts his grip on III’s thigh and switches to a brutal pace. The force of his hips shoves III back as he pounds into the taller man. The sounds of sweaty skin and the rocking case complement the bass oozing through the walls. “Is this better? This what you wanted?”
“Fu— yes, yes please, oh fuck—” III can barely catch his breath, only managing to get out a few coherent words. He braces his hands on the wall above his head, using the new leverage to push his hips back to meet II’s slamming thrusts. This just makes both of them moan louder, easily audible over the music.
II begins to feel a familiar coiling tension low in his core, and knows he won’t last much longer. From the sound of it, neither will III. He hasn’t formed real words in several minutes, reduced to making soft keening noises as he uses one hand to keep himself braced on the wall while the other hand scrabbles at II’s thigh weakly.
II slows his pace and takes a moment to simply admire the man laid out in front of him, all lean lines and sharp angles. Cock laying hard and needy against his stomach. Shirt rucked up to expose hickies on his pale chest. A pretty blush across his cheeks, his kiss-swollen lips parted and panting. Eyes half glazed over.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” II breathes out. He doesn’t expect the other man to hear him over the droning club music, but III’s face grows even redder and looks away from II. Cute. II smirks. “What, no more demands?”
III practically whines. He really doesn’t seem capable of anything else at the moment. II almost feels bad. Almost. He didn’t mean to break the other man—shag him senseless, yes, but this was neither the time nor place to properly take him apart and ruin him. II tries to avoid thinking about how much he wants that opportunity—to get this view again, get his hands on III again, maybe his mouth, and see what other sounds he can draw out...
Focus.
II shakes the thoughts away, resolving to just enjoy the present moment. And damn is it enjoyable. He takes III's hand from his thigh and laces their fingers together, pinning it down on the case in an attempt to ground III.
“Eyes on me, love,” II’s voice is a low rumble.
As soon as III’s eyes meet his, II goes back to fucking into him fast and hard. With one hand still entwined in III’s, he moves the other to stroke III’s neglected cock, fingers tightening and catching at the ridge. The new attention causes III’s breath to hitch abruptly and then he’s crying out, coming over II’s hand and across his own chest. The sight below him and the tightening pressure around him has II following closely behind.
“Oh fu— III…!” II’s hips falter and he falls forward, pressing his face into the crook of III’s neck.
II feels III continue to clench around him and the taller man begins rocking his hips to work them both through it, loud breaths puffing against ears and hands kneading skin. They remain pressed together as they come back to themselves with their chests heaving and bodies spent. II leans back to look at the other man’s face and finds III’s eyes already on him, full of something that might be wistful awe.
“Fuck…” II drags him back into a deep kiss. It’s softer. Languid. Reverent, almost.
When they finally break apart, II gently pulls out, making them both hiss. He tucks himself back into his pants before reaching for his discarded tank top, using it to quickly clean up the mess on III, and handing the man his discarded trousers.
III has an expression on his face as he redresses that II can’t identify. He looks almost… shy. The hesitancy looks out of place on the blonde.
“I— um…” III clears his throat. “Jesus fucking christ.”
“Likewise,” II chuckles and offers an easy smile as he leans on the wall. He tries to mask his dread at what comes next, bracing himself for disappointment and fully expecting for them to part ways. He's already mourning the encounter. This is gonna hurt like a bitch.
“Can I have your number?” III blurts out, snapping II back to attention. “I, I mean it’s cool if not, I understand, I just—”
“Absolutely.” II interrupts.
“Oh! Okay.” III is beaming. “Would you wanna… do this again?”
II wants that more than he wants his next breath of air. That and more, maybe. The look on III's face is the best thing II has ever seen. He wants to commit the crystal hue of his eyes to memory. But he can’t get ahead of himself, he's barely clinging to his composure as it is. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that.”
III plants a quick kiss on II’s cheek, smiling from ear to ear as he rushes to pull his phone out.
II chuckles as he taps in his number. “So, about your friend…”
“Oh, come on!”