Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.
DANCE
by Guardian
"Oh come on, Steve." Jesse was aware that he was whining, but
he didn't care. "Please?"
"I don't dance." The detective's response was a low growl, leaving
his partner in no doubt as to the sincerity of his words.
"Why not?"
"It's bad enough that you have to drag me in here," Steve responded,
his disdainful gesture encompassing everything the nightclub had to offer.
"I am not about to make a fool of myself."
"A fool?" Jesse was both upset and dismayed by his words. "Steve,
this is a gay club, there's lots of guys dancing together."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is?" Jesse demanded. Steve was driving that night,
so he'd had more than a little to drink. "Are you ashamed of me or
something? What? Am I too short? You don't mind holding my hand in a corner
but…"
"Stop it, Jess." Steve's sharp tone cut through his whining. "Of
course I'm not ashamed of you. I just don't… I can't… I'm not
a very good dancer."
Jesse almost burst out into laughter at his lover's quiet admission, but
he hadn't had that much to drink. He just looked at him with an expression
that bordered on incredulity.
"You don't have to be a good dancer for this," he said, leaning
forwards and caressing his lover's thigh. "It's a smoochy one. All
you have to do is hold me and move your feet."
"I said no, Jess." There was an abruptness to the older man's
tone that effectively ended the argument.
Jesse jerked his hand away from his leg and slumped back in his seat. Steve
had never been one for public displays of affection, but he'd thought that
even he wouldn't shy away from a slow dance in a gay bar. He picked up his
drink, wondering what he could do to make the older man more comfortable
about their relationship.
In private, everything was fine and he certainly had no complaints about
their lovemaking. But Steve refused to go that one step further. Even in
the anonymity of a club used exclusively by homosexuals, he refused to do
more than merely hold his hand.
As Jesse sipped despondently at his drink, Steve regarded him with fond
exasperation. Jesse wanted the world and he wanted it now - and, while Steve
was quite happy to give him that, he was just going to have to get used
to the fact that dancing was not his forte.
Eventually, tired of the reproachful looks the younger man kept shooting
in his direction, Steve lost all pretence of patience.
"Why is it such a big deal?" He demanded. "For God's sake,
Jess, it's just a dance."
"It's not just a dance," Jesse retorted. "I just want
you to loosen up, have some fun for once."
"I am having fun!"
"Yeah? Well I'm not. Not any more."
"Jesse…"
"I like dancing, Steve," the younger man informed him. "It's
something I enjoy. But you won't even try it. I went skiing for you."
"You loved skiing." Steve was not about to accept that as a valid
argument. "As I recall, you…"
"That's not the point," Jesse interrupted harshly, the alcohol
he'd consumed making him brave. "I did that for you. All I'm asking
is the same in return. It's only a dance for Christ's sake. It's hardly
gonna kill you. At Aspen I could've broken my leg. I could've got caught
in an avalanche or anything…"
"Right, that's it." Steve, completely sober, had had enough of
his lover's drunken rambling. "Time to go home."
"I don't wanna go home!"
Jesse's protest fell on completely deaf ears as Steve took hold of his bicep
and hauled him to his feet. He was good at what he did and he muscled the
younger man out of the building without making Jesse look as though he were
acting of anything other than his own free will. The abruptness of Steve's
actions had effectively silenced his indignant objections.
*****
"Where are we going?" Jesse frowned as Steve pulled off the
highway and sent his car heading up towards the mountains.
"Home." Was Steve's simple response. "It's the scenic route."
"Oh." Jesse was silenced by the look that was aimed in his direction.
His alcoholic buzz was rapidly wearing off and he shrank into his seat.
"This should do it." With an abrupt wrench of the steering wheel,
Steve sent the car careering along a dirt track. Moments later, he pulled
to a halt. Leaning past his bewildered lover, he delved into the glove box.
Steve kept his cassette tapes in there and he pulled them out one at a time,
holding them up to the light to check their content. After a few minutes
searching, he found what he was looking for.
Pushing the cassette into the car's player, he opened the door and got out.
Not knowing what else to do, Jesse followed suit. The two men met one another
at the front of the car - just as Chris Isaacs voice split the silence of
the night, singing about a wicked game.
Steve opened his arms and Jesse melted into them. With the moonlight as
their only witness, they danced to the haunting melody. Jesse pulled back
momentarily and turned his contented face up towards his lover. Steve accepted
the invitation and kissed him deeply. All the while their bodies swayed
in time to the music.
"I told you I couldn't dance," Steve murmured.
Jesse was about to protest to that statement when Steve suddenly wrapped
his arms around him and lifted him to sit on the hood of the car.
Their lips were still melded together and, when Steve's hands moved to the
buckle of his belt he couldn't have objected if he'd wanted to. He didn't
want to.
With surprising ease, Steve pulled Jesse's jeans off, realising with a start
that the young man had already kicked off his shoes. His shorts were soon
to follow.
"What if someone comes?" Jesse's protest was half hearted at best.
"Someone will." Steve buried his face into his half-naked lover's
neck. And he felt the other man's reaction.
Jesse was instantly hard. Though the engine had cooled while they danced,
the metal was still warm beneath his naked ass. His lover's mouth was hot
against his skin and there was the added danger of being caught. And the
melody that still issued from the car's speakers.
Steve crouched down and his tongue flicked out. Jesse lifted his hips towards
the touch, but strong hands instantly clutched at his thighs.
Lost in his passion, Jesse offered no resistance as Steve pulled him forwards
until he was lying flat on his back on the hood of the car. His erection,
already straining, threatened to explode as he heard the sound of Steve's
zipper being drawn.
"I don't have anything," Steve whispered with sudden, horrified
realisation.
"You don't need…" Jesse gasped, his back arching as Steve
slipped one finger inside him.
"Oh God," he breathed, as a second finger followed. He knew that
Steve was doing the best that he could, preparing him as thoroughly as possible,
but without any lubricant… His cock twitched again.
And then Steve's cock was there, pushing against him and Jesse relaxed as
best he could, welcoming the intrusion.
Steve eased his way in slowly, waiting for the pain, anticipating the protest.
But neither was forthcoming. Jesse raised his hips and welcomed him in.
Slowly, he began to thrust. One hand reached down to cup his lover's balls,
the other fisted his cock.
Gradually Steve speeded up, as Jesse writhed and moaned beneath his expert
touch.
With a guttural cry, Steve came - even as the man beneath him reached fruition,
spilling his seed all over his hand, his own body and the hood of the car.
Steve collapsed forwards over Jesse's supine form - utterly sated.
"Steve," Jesse murmured when he eventually found his voice. He
still lay sprawled over the car, completely unable to move.
"Hmm?"
"With hindsight, I guess it's a good job that we didn't 'dance' in
the nightclub."
THE END.
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