Chapter Twenty-Eight
Laken
Laken’s ears buzzed with how he was going to murder Jupiter—slowly, so very slowly, wringing out all the damn pleasure from it.
Can you really blame Jupiter?
Laken had understood in theory what they’d be doing, kind of. He’d comprehended dancing in the dark. It's why he had agreed to this madness in the first place.
Should have booked the tickets myself! When the guy had explained everything, it had thrown Laken when he couldn’t admit he’d been clueless about the paint and the drums, having had Jupiter book the tickets for him.
Helpful fucker knew what he was doing.
In the darkness—or so he thought—he was less likely to look foolish when he had zero dance skills.
Part of Jupiter’s plan was to remove the phobia of disco dancing—any dancing—in front of others and looking foolish.
He had never felt inclined to want to get up and dance in his entire life, still didn’t.
Yet here he was. He had spent the last hour reminding himself this was about showing Isley a good time.
He needed to suck it up and plan Jupiter’s death.
The night before, at Ren’s, he’d talked about his brothers because Isley knew them.
It made that easier. And he needed easy after spending four hours working up the courage to ask Isley if he wanted to grab something to eat before heading home.
He’d taken Isley to Ren’s because it was a busy burger joint and less intimidating when he was practicing his romancing skills.
Jupiter had hauled his ass over the coals for that because work colleagues frequented the place, not dating couples. He was trying, wasn’t he?
Only he’d let the doubts creep in, and this was why he’d ended up here after listening to Jupiter.
The idea of wearing headphones to listen to music meant, in principle, that he didn’t have to worry about finding small talk and could just relax.
What it didn’t account for was how sweaty his ears got.
He decided small talk might actually be better than wet ears.
He hated feeling the sweat tricking down the sides of his throat, wetting his T-shirt.
He moved the left headphone off his sweaty ear to hear drums beating out of tune and voices singing the 80s pop music blasting from his headphones.
Currently, Rick Astley was singing about ‘never going to give you up’.
It was pure cheese, yet Isley didn’t seem to care as he danced around in front of Laken like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was having a good time.
Of course he is!
Laken hadn’t progressed from the side shuffle he had going from left to right, keeping his eyes on the man glowing in the dark, face covered in paint particles that fluoresced in the darkness.
He was rainbow bright, and Laken suspected he looked much the same given that it was impossible to find a place to hide from paint colored air.
Jupiter’s words ran through his mind. “Dancing is good because you can create intimacy even if you’re only swaying on the spot. Even your novice ass can do that.”
Jupiter—the dick—had gone and sold him on an afternoon date, leaving him free to choose where to continue it or, if things got awkward, to drop Isley home. What had he said? You want spontaneity. It’s what romance is all about.
How was it romantic to be covered in paint and looking like a glow in the dark dildo? How?
Romance sucked.
He felt old and every one of his thirty-six years when he coughed at the paint plumes wafting from the large drums, which he’d so far avoided playing on. He’d seen Isley casting them a longing look several times and like the dick he was, Laken had pretended not to notice.
Who the hell puts drums in a silent disco and thought throwing paint powder on them for folks was a good idea?
Jupiter had said they needed a change of clothes because they'd get sweaty dancing and he was bound to get hot while keeping up with Isley—not because of the powdered paint flying around coating everything it touched.
It was going to be hard to get this stuff out of his clothes.
Isley swung around, head bopping in time to the music, his face a mass of colored streaks.
But it was his eyes that caught and tugged at Laken’s heart.
Happiness. Pure, unadulterated happiness.
Laken’s grump disappeared under Isley’s spell.
The man held magic in that smile. It had captivated Laken’s heart when he hadn’t wanted it to, but here he was, ensnared and no longer fighting it.
Isley had a way about him that made everything better.
Laken selfishly wanted to grab hold and tuck Isley inside him and never share him with anyone.
Whenever darkness shrouded Laken, Isley was there showing him the light.
The whimsical thought took him aback. Air caught in his chest at the truth.
Before he could take a step back and take a moment to find his balance, the track changed and Isley swayed towards him seductively, giving him a sultry smile that hit right in Laken’s balls.
The impact was as hard as the baseball Silas had caught him with once during a baseball game.
His dick throbbed as a voice sang in his ear about love, hope and its celebration.
Tonight, I celebrate my love for you, and hope that deep inside you'll feel it too. Tonight, our spirits will be climbing, to a sky lit up with diamonds. The words expressed his feelings better than Laken could articulate.
They reached for each other; Laken totally lost in the moment. There was only Isley, nothing else mattered. His past. The mistakes he’d made. The distance he’d purposefully put between them even before he acknowledged to himself how much he wanted Isley.
His sugar glider, as usual, didn’t follow any pattern and leapt into his arms, wrapping himself around him.
He drank in Isley’s scent, his warmth, the affection he gave so freely.
Laken followed Isley’s direction, and swayed in time to the music, moving them in circles as Isley’s gaze never wavered from his, his eyes speaking the words of the song.
Tonight, there'll be no distance between us. What I want most to do is to get close to you.
Laken’s body reacted to the depth of emotion Isley expressed.
Visibly struggling to hold it together, Laken’s hands trembled against Isley’s ass, pressing them closer together.
Their lips met in a heated exchange. He was drowning in the sensual onslaught of the kiss.
It was like no other he’d experienced when Isley teased with gentle nips, his tongue seeking entry, then sliding between Laken’s like it was his sole right to do so. He owned Laken in that moment.
Isley’s taste was sweeter than champagne and more decadent than chocolate fudge cake.
He felt the vibration of Isley’s groans of pleasure reverberate through him.
The heat of the kiss stole his breath, and he gasped for air as lips trailed down his throat, sucking and licking at the damp skin.
Laken hadn’t experienced such a flood of desire from something so simple.
It washed away all sensible thought that they were in a crowded room—albeit dark—where anyone could see them grinding on each other.
Laken wasn’t Jupiter, he wasn’t an exhibitionist, but he couldn’t have stopped if the building was on fire.
Isley’s dick pressed against Laken’s stomach. With each roll of Isley’s slim hips it rubbed, making Laken wish he could feel it against his skin. The glide of satiny skin slick with pre-come.
Tiny fingers slid through Laken’s hair, holding him firm and angling his head the way Isley wanted, taking his lips hungrily, deepening the kiss until Laken’s dick was a sticky mess in his underwear.
The kiss was somehow directly connected to his cock.
Isley's tilting hips, rhythmically moving in a slow grind, matched how he sucked on Laken’s tongue, making it impossible to think about stopping.
Breathless and flushed with arousal, Isley dragged his mouth away to catch his breath.
Laken had other ideas and chased his lips.
He could taste the hunger pouring from Isley as he dove back in and licked his way into Isley’s mouth, tasting and exploring, swallowing each whimper as he discovered what made Isley moan.
Isley panted against his lips, “I’m skating the edge.”
He really didn’t want Isley to come in his pants. One more kiss from that potent mouth and Laken wasn’t sure that he was in a much better position. Sounds filtered in past the haze of lust and had him shake his head to clear it.
“We need to leave before I do something stupid.”
It took a second to register with those sultry hip movements, that Isley heard nothing with his headphones blocking sound and blaring music as he came back in seeking his lips.
Moving to hold Isley with one hand, not that he was going anywhere with how those slim legs were hooked tightly around Laken, he freed a hand to move Isley’s headphones.
“You fucking gorgeous creature. If you keep that up you won’t be skating the edge.
We will be giving this crowd a dance show quite unlike any they’ve ever seen. ”
A lusty, unrepentant grin got Laken practically running through the crowd to where he thought the door was.
He hardly noticed when he knocked into a couple of people as Isley ran his fingers over the back of his neck, squeezing possessively, his eyes glassy with lust, encouraging Laken to find a flat surface.
“Gonna make you pay for this,” he growled as he reached the door, each step chafing his dick in the tight confines of his jeans.
“Can’t wait,” Isley murmured against his throat, his hot breath on Laken’s damp skin adding to his suffering.
How they managed to act with some semblance of decorum, dropping off the headphones and locker keys after grabbing their stuff, Laken didn’t think too hard on.
The real problem was that outside, Isley refused to let go of him.
Getting them to the car and driving back to Isley’s without crashing when Isley wouldn’t stop touching him was a miracle.
He didn’t notice the paint dust clinging to the leather or clothing. He didn’t think about the bags of clothing he’d thrown in the trunk with Isley diving for him the second they got out of the car.
“Keys,” he begged, “where are your door keys?”
Hot, wet lips sucked at the pulse point at the junction of his neck. It bounced against the onslaught as Laken blindly staggered to the front of Isley’s building.
“Keys,” he gasped again, trying once more before he did something utterly out of character and pressed Isley against the door and tore off his pants, his need thrashing harder than a sea in a force ten gale.
It didn’t matter that it was late afternoon and there was enough daylight that they’d been seen.
That it was cold enough to make his skin tingle.
None of that mattered when he wanted them naked, and those soft, plump lips around his dick.
Isley’s soft pants hit Laken’s face, and his glazed eyes blinked slowly as if trying to comprehend what Laken was saying. It was an ego boost, and he chuckled, kissing Isley swiftly.
“Key’s, love. We need them.”