Disclaimer: Nothing Owned, Nothing Made, But so very much borrowed and twisted.
It's the way the brunet's skinny, lithe body moves. Hips turning in perfect time to the music, grinding against some random guy - in back - and some random chick - in front. He has an arm on the chick's shoulder - she's a redhead and just as slight as the boy. The guy - who has orange hair and a bandanna - behind him has his hands on the brunet's hips - fingers pressing dangerously close to his crotch. Normally Riku would write this little display off - club whores drunk off cheap liquor and even cheaper ecstasy - but It's something about the brunet. With his half lidded eyes and his wide, easy grin. It's the way sweat glistens on his shirtless chest - which is skinny but toned. His neck and wrists hold dozens of glow rings. His jeans are slung dangerously low and he can't possibly be wearing underwear. It's the way his body moves, so hypnotic, so tempting. It's all this that has Riku interest and his cock already rising. Now all he needs to do is pry Brunet away from Red and Bandanna. Red talks into Brunet's ear and his head turns in Riku's direction and Riku almost chokes on air. Brunet slides out from between Red and Bandanna - who just start grinding against each other, like Brunet had been a buffer. Brunet is in Riku's face in a matter of seconds and he has the bluest eyes Riku has ever seen, with long thick lashes that would make any girl jealous.
"Want to buy me a drink?" Brunet asks - shouts over the thumping bass - , so brazenly, his hand taking up residence on Riku's thigh. Fuck.
"What do you want?" Riku asks.
"Vodka, with Coke, no ice." Brunet replies, fingers lightly massaging Riku's thigh. Riku orders Brunet's drink and get's a refill - straight vodka, with ice.
"What's your name?" Riku asks and Brunet licks his lips, hand traveling up, pushing up Riku's shirt and resting on his hip.
"Sora," Brunet answers and Riku thinks it's the best name he's ever heard and is already imagining saying it a million different ways. "What's yours?" Sora asks and the bartender sets their drinks down.
"Riku," Riku replies, taking a large swig of his drink - it burns and warms on its way down, like always. Sora downs half of his in one go.
"Wanna dance, Riku?" Sora asks, enunciating both syllables of Riku's name, like he's still trying to learn it. Sora's fingers slip beneath the waist band of Riku's jeans and he tugs. Sora patiently waits, sipping at his drink as Riku thinks. This kid is drunk, and quite possibly high, am I seriously going to take advantage of that? And then Sora licks his lips again and a bead of sweat falls from a delicate and tanned chin onto a small, but toned and tanned chest. Damn it all to hell.
"Yeah, I do."
