Chris rolls his eyes when Justin Bieber's own Boyfriend fills the room. This song was never one of his favorites and he's just about to call the night a dud and leave when a man who's all too-much-eyeliner and way-too-wide smiles enters his line of sight. The man is bouncing and grinding and giggling and enjoying himself to no end.
The man must feel Chris' eyes on him, because he looks up from where he's grinding on some other guy (and damn is that guy lucky because goofy-smile-guy is way out of his league) and winks at Chris, actually winks. For a moment, Chris isn't so sure goofy-smile-guy meant to send that token of invitation in his direction, but when he looks around he finds that he is definitely the only one at the bar, and that goofy-smile-guy was definitely winking at him.
Goofy-smile-guy turns away from lucky-guy (Chris has to hold in a snort when lucky-guy frowns and appears to whimper like a kicked puppy) and beckons to Chris with his forefinger, mouthing the words 'join me?' Chris chuckles and shakes his head, taking a sip of his rum martini. Goofy-smile-guy pouts at him, and starts to sway his hips with the music again, seeming to forget all about Chris. He soon learns, however, that goofy-smile-guy is a persistent one.
Chris has returned his attention to the glass in front of him, fiddling with the horribly tacky umbrella inside of it when the song ends and he feels a body slide in next to him at the bar.
"Hi." Goofy-smile-guy breathes. Chris crosses his legs and raises his eyebrows at the man.
"Hey." He says in return, almost successfully hiding the way his vocal chords are failing him due to the (hot, sexy, sweaty, oh god) man in front of him. Almost. Goofy-smile-guy grins devilishly and places a hand on Chris' knee.
"Dance with me." He presses, skipping all introductions and cheesy pick-up lines that Chris is so used to hearing at these clubs. Chris laughs again and crosses his arms over his chest.
"You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?" He asks in one of his most condescending tones. Instead of being thrown off, goofy-smile-guy seems to be even more encouraged, smiling wider.
"Nope." Goofy-smile-guy shakes his head, placing a hand on his hip. "I'm not. Come dance with me." He asks again. Chris lets out one the biggest sighs he's ever managed to make (which is saying something, because Chris is known on set as 'the King of Dramatic Sighs.') and holds out his hand, quirking an eyebrow at goofy-smile-guy as if to say 'well? I'm waiting?'. goofy-smile-guy immediately takes Chris' hand and guides him to the dance floor as Only Girl comes on the sound system.
At first, they're not even touching. Chris is swaying his hips and holding his arms out above his head, trying to lose himself in the beat. When he looks up, goofy-smile-guy s eyes are glued to his waist, and it makes Chris smirk. Feeling emboldened, Chris sways his hips even more, turning around for goofy-smile-guy and putting himself on display. These are his favorite skinny jeans, after all, and they show off his ass in the best way. A few lines of the song later and he feels goofy-smile-guy pressing himself up against Chris' back, grabbing Chris' hips and swaying in time with him.
Chris smiles when he feels the very noticeable bulge in goofy-smile-guy's almost equally tight pants press up against the curve of his ass. He reaches behind himself to grab goofy-smile-guy's neck, pulling him closer and turning his head to make intensely heated eye contact with his dance partner. Goofy-smile-guy s eyes are filled with lust and desire when his eyes flicker down to Chris' lips and his Adam's apple bobs up and down. Without a moment's notice, before Chris even realizes what he's doing, he's capturing goofy-smile-guy's lips with his own and shoving his tongue into his mouth. He feels goofy-smile-guy press in harder and grind against his ass, groaning into Chris' mouth. Chris groans back, turning in goofy-smile-guy's arms and deepening the kiss.
When they both pull away, all heavy breathing and scarlet-colored cheeks, goofy-smile-guy attaches his mouth to Chris' neck, sucking a large, purple hickey into his skin. Chris moans wantonly, wrapping his arms around goofy-smile-guy's shoulders and pulling him impossibly closer until their throbbing erections are pressed up against each other's through very thin fabric. Just then, goofy-smile-guy sucks in a loud, shaky breath, the rhythm of his grinding starting to waver. Chris can tell he's close, and he's pretty close himself, despite the fact that they've only been going at it for one or two songs. Or has it been five? Maybe ten? Chris lost count the moment he felt goofy-smile-guy's cock press against his backside.
Feeling as if he's done almost nothing for goofy-smile-guy, Chris leans in to nibble at his ear, whispering hot words of support. Goofy-smile-guy lets out one final moan before his hips still and he throws his head back, obviously coming right then and there. Chris' eyes widen at what a beautiful sight goofy-smile-guy really is and after two or three more ruts against his thigh, Chris is right there with him, coming inside of his pants.
When they both come down, goofy-smile-guy cups Chris' face and pulls him into the most filled (with want, need, and... love?) kiss of Chris' life. Chris whines against goofy-smile-guy's lips and lets himself sink into it and relax.
Pulling away from goofy-smile-guy's (soft, gentle, and so pink) lips, Chris is suddenly smacked with the realization that he just came in a public place, surrounded by a bunch of other people. The other club-goers had seemed to disappear from both his sight and mind when they first kissed. Glancing around, however, Chris notices that absolutely no one is paying them any attention, and relaxes his shoulders with the thought that (hopefully) no one even saw them in the act.
Chris smiles to himself and looks back to where goofy-smile-guy is standing. Or, at least, where he was standing just two minutes earlier. Goofy-smile-guy is nowhere to be found, and Chris starts to freak. Was it not good for him? Was this just a one time thing? Before more thoughts of doubt and disappointment have time to cloud Chris' mind, he feels something in his back pocket. Chris slides his hand in and feels a slip of paper crinkle under his touch. Once the paper is unfolded, he's reading the quickly scribbled handwriting and trying to decipher the smeared pen marks. It takes Chris longer than it should have to comprehend what he's actually reading, (in his defense, the dark lighting in the club is less than helpful) but when he does, he smiles and sighs happily, biting at his lip to contain a giddy squeal.
Darren Criss.(xxx)-xxx-xxxx
Call me.