But I’m not approaching him while he’s on the dance floor. Dancing is not my thing.
Like ever.
But if that’s the case, why am I gravitating closer and closer, until I’m in the middle of the grinding and silly moves.
I sip my beer, but now I’m the awkward guy not dancing in the middle of the dance floor when Dax glances at me again. The way his lips curl into a smirk is the kind of thing that gets on my nerves, but it does something else to me tonight because a rush of adrenaline surges through me. And as he dances away from his friends, making his way over to me, I feel this visceral relief. I can’t help looking him over, drinking him in, wondering if there’s anything under that skirt or if I could just slide right in. The pleasure I get from it quickly shifts as I search around to see who else might be admiring his physique.
“Impressed with Alpha Theta Mu?” he asks.
“Omega Psi nearly had you guys.”
“Whatever. Now come on. Where are your moves?”
He gets into the beat, his expression an invitation.
“I don’t dance.”
I’m not nearly as dismissive as I would usually be, and he studies my expression as if trying to get inside my head. And he’s already gotten in further than most.
He shrugs. “Okay, then. Just stand in the middle of the dance floor and act too cool for fun.”
When he turns to head off, my chest tightens. I could say I don’t like how this feels, like Dax has these invisible chains tethering me and the power to pull at will, but…that would be a lie.
On his way back to his friends, he attracts more glances, all these fuckers wanting a piece of action with him, because why the fuck wouldn’t they?
I think he’s given up on me, but as he nears his friends, he whirls around, and he’s still moving to the beat, tilting his head as he signals for me with his forefinger.
Don’t give in. Don’t you dare.
He must realize I’m steadily caving because he persists, and damn these invisible strings because I head toward him. As pissed as I am at myself for giving in, the grin across his face makes it worth it.
“Okay, we’re almost there,” he teases. “Now you actually have to move.”
“I’m walking. That’s moving.”
“Fine.” He steps closer. “You stand right there, then.”
He’s got this wicked glint in his eyes, making me think of the naughty things we did in the bathroom stall together. The way he liked me ordering him around. How well he took my load.
He presses his pelvis against my thigh and begins grinding on me. My cock shifts in the crotch of my pants, tightening as we lock eyes, and then he spins around, his ass against my crotch. He’s really getting into it, ignoring this stiff, unmoving object behind him…well, one stiff thing is moving.
He glances over his shoulder. “Oh, look who’s happy to see me again.” He pushes closer, and fuck, the guy knows how to move. I rest my free hand on his hip, tucking a finger under the waistband of his skirt.
“You like that, don’t you?” he asks.
“Just keep dancing.”
He obeys—he’s so good at following orders. He keeps up his work until he offers a long stroke along my shaft, making me moan before he pulls away, and it’s like I black out for a moment, trying to make sense of why he stopped, before he’s facing me again.
“Guess we’re gonna have to do something about this again,” he says.
“Guess so.”
“But you’re gonna have to dance first.”
“Fucker.”
“You like it.”
