A/N: I was given a prompt "swimming" and this happened :) it is not exactly swimming, and not smutty as it was supposed to be. So I'll just leave it here and will think about "swimming" some more
Everyone freezes, and then van Buuren picks up the crowd and bounces it around the club. The bodies lifted, vibrating, hands and arms receive jolts and send them to the spines. And up and through!... You arch your back and lift your face to the myriads of stars there, behind the dark roof, where the universe is calling you. And down! Everybody drops and you let the rhythm clench at your heart and whirl you into the neverending high!
A face materializes in front of you out of the dimness of the club, and you smile. The guy has extraordinary eyes, bright blue and laughter is rollicking in them, like the little tickles of flirty silver fish in a spring. He moves like a drop of mercury, surprising grace in the wide shoulders and muscular chest. You bite your lip and lift your arms above his shoulders. He moves closer, and you let this moment decide the destiny of this night. He keeps an electrifying inch between your bodies, and you smile in approval. You are moving, together but not too close, and the rhythm is pumping through your veins. You synchronize and share the bliss of movement.
Later you are buying your own drink and just can't stop appreciating the eyes. They cyan, cerulean, carolina, celeste and cobalt. In the everchanging beams of light in the club they are glorious. The rest is fine too, strong jaw, prominent nose, kissable lips, but they are just not doing it for you. You sip your drink and smile to him. He leans in and yells his name. You nod without hearing and finish your drink. Then you hook the collar of his tee with your index finger and momentarily having appreciated the raspiness of thick chest hair you pull him to the dancefloor. He smirks lopsidedly and follows.
The night is ending and you spent the last two hours with him. You hate that it has to end, because now you have to destroy the synchronicity of your bodies that has been pumping endorphins into your blood and break it to him. Dancing yes, anything else no. You step out into the brisk air outside the club and turn to him.
He is smiling, and he is nice and maybe… but no. "Listen," he smirks, damn, the voice is raspy and the most delicious of molasses, but he is just not that, "Listen, love, it was nice but I'm not interested in continuing. Do you want me to catch you a cab or you are staying here?" You are surprised to notice a prickle of indignation in you. You guess it shows. "You are super hot and a glorious dancer, but I have a girlfriend. Just couldn't pass you there, on the floor." You chuckle at yourself, smile widely and reply, "Get me a cab." He courteously opens the door and leans in. "No hard feelings?" "Don't flatter yourself." The cab starts moving and you yell through the open window, "What's your name again?" "Phil."
You bump into each other in a coffee shop couple weeks later. His girlfriend is a six feet two replica of a Barbie. He smiles and you point at her with your eyes, "Tell me she has a wonderful personality." "She thinks China is wee bit to the north of Ireland," you can finally appreciate the Northern accent now. "Well, then your loyalty becomes yet more inestimable." "What can I say, I'm a good guy." "Phil!" a low rumble rolls through the shop and electricity jolts through your spinal cord. "Yeah, Uncle, just a sec." Phil picks up his tray with three cups, and you are pinned to the spot.
"Let me give you a hand with that," the same palatine blue eyes but on this face everything just ticks. The dark instead of blonde, the longer nose, the most glorious jaw. The lopsided smirk just a bit more wicked, the lips that you can just imagine to lick, and black hair peeking out of the collar of a shirt. "Don't leave me there alone," he whispers and then sees you. The black pupils flood the tufts blue irises, and Bob's your uncle.