pslplz | Trouble only knocks when no one else is home

Trouble only knocks when no one else is home

It was shaping up to be a quiet evening. Goku was with Sanzo until tomorrow, and while there were several potential family members to look to between siblings and in-laws, Omi wasn't so eager to give up a chance to relax in peace. He had articles to read, some code to putz with, and a new caramel-pecan coffee flavor to try. Said coffee was already brewing, filling the air with a distinctly nutty aroma. The holographic display in the living room was set to split-screen between the code file and a live preview, curtains already closed and lights low.

While the coffee finished, he went about the apartment picking up little bits of clutter that always seemed to collect during the week. He didn't mind it in doses, but he didn't want it getting out of control, either.

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"I think you're telling me plenty," Omi said approvingly, eyeing the way Akaya's hips moved. He was quietly glad that Akaya hadn't countered him with a dare to try leading; he wasn't sure he was ready for it either. Outside the dance floor, it wasn't so difficult. On it... he was competent-- school dances had verified that much-- but clubs were not his scene. He was sort of counting on Akaya to give him something to match.

The man didn't disappoint. As Omi had expected from someone with such focus on music, Akaya had a solid grasp of the relationship between sound and movement. Omi moved to face him and fell into step. If Akaya were to seek his eyes, he wouldn't have any difficulty making contact.

And Omi was telling him plenty too, not just with his words of challenge but with his eyes. Akaya hadn't really thought he had it in him when Omi first walked into the club looking wide-eyed and out of place. He liked being surprised.

The crowd bumped and swayed around them, shifting them closer together under the bright lights of the colorful strobe. The glitter on his face had brushed off a bit into his clothes, giving off a shimmer every time the light swept over them. When the people surged again, Akaya stepped in and brushed his hand across Omi's hip in a way that was clearly not an accident.

"And you were gonna say yes," he said with a wink. That is, if Akaya really was inviting him to dance so he could put his hands on him.

There were several reasons Omi was glad he'd taken Akaya up on the invitation to see the concert. It was a chance to hear his music; it was a firsthand look at the difference his efforts had made on the evening's performance; it was a nice break to have an evening out relaxing, even if he hadn't been very relaxed at the start; it was a learning experience about the positive impacts of stepping out of his comfort zone, and of being bolder when he flirted; and of course the big one: he probably wouldn't have gotten to see Akaya again otherwise. That would have been unfortunate. They'd barely talked that evening, but Akaya had a powerful magnetism that made that fact just not seem so important. When the hand touched his hip, Omi met his eyes and smiled at the remark.

"The answer hasn't changed," he said. Emboldened by the brush, Omi set one hand on Akaya's shoulder, an invitation for him to step up to full-on contact.

"That's what I thought," Akaya said with a grin. He slid his palm over that hip and pulled him closer, moving to the beat of the music.

They swayed together in a way that wasn't raunchy but not quite chaste, either. Omi can read whatever intentions he wanted into it. Akaya was probably being somewhat reckless, but what was he supposed to do? Never have any fun? That was just bullshit.

Omi smiled more broadly as Akaya pulled him closer by the hip. He left his hand on the musician's shoulder and moved to his lead, not the least bothered by the not-quite-chaste nature of the dancing. Omi thought that should be no surprise to Akaya by now. He'd made several remarks over the course of the day signaling openness to casual sex, both in general and with him specifically.

Eventually, though, Omi had to break from the heat of the dance floor for something to drink. He downed the rest of the Bloody Mary entirely too fast, and then made the mistake of following it with an appletini, which he bought himself. He made it about halfway through it before he started feeling lightheaded. He giggled as he set the glass down.

"I shouldn't have gotten these so close together... What a waste."

"I'll finish it," Akaya said blithely. He didn't wait for an answer, but plucked the glass and downed it.

Ugh.

"You really like 'em sweet," he said with a half-grimace, half-grin.

Omi didn't protest, instead grinning back (and looking slightly goofy in the process).

"Not especially... I just like trying new things. The Bloody Mary was my favorite. I'd expected the appletini to be sour."

He tipped his head.

"Which drink do you most like here?"

Akaya resisted the urge to poke his finger at that goofy grin.

"Nothing like a good cold beer, I say." He tipped his tall glass of pale ale. Omi could have some, if he wanted. But maybe he'd already had quite enough?

Ken would have agreed with that, Omi thought. He didn't care much for beer himself.

"Different tastes for everyone, I guess. Are you here for the rest of the night? I've never been to one of these before... how long do they tend to run?"

"One of these? You mean a club?" Akaya laughed, somewhat amused. He drank down the rest of his beer (since Omi clearly didn't care for it) and took him by the wrist and pulled him back to the dance floor.

"You stay as long as you want."

He leaned in and teased by his ear, "Why? You got somewhere else to be?"

"I mean an after party...!" Omi answered with another giggle, as Akaya already had him by the wrist and moving towards the dance floor. Teetering between tipsy and drunk made things that usually weren't amusing seem funny, like being misunderstood. Or possibly Akaya was misunderstanding on purpose; Omi couldn't quite tell anymore.

He'd also meant to use his question as a segue to say he should probably be going, but it was a little hard to say that right after going back to the dance floor... maybe just a few more minutes. He grinned and blushed a little from the teasing question, though it was barely noticeable under the dim and colored lighting of the club. It wasn't that the question was embarrassing; it was the nearness of that mouth.

"No, not really..."

In hindsight, Omi would decide that probably wasn't the best thing to say as someone who should probably go home to sleep in a few minutes. But sleep didn't really count for "somewhere else to be," did it? How could he have answered any other way?

"Not really? Good."

Because really, this was just a little too much fun to call it a night already. What a waste! Akaya kept odd hours and could stay up until early morning. Not a lot of people could keep up with that sort of schedule, which might be why he didn't have anyone steady, ever since his band became a top priority.

Fortunately, this was just one night, and one party, and there was too much going on right this moment to really think about anything in the future.

He didn't wait to pull him near this time, and he could smell the apple on Omi's breath when he draped his arm around his waist and leaned in close.

It was definitely going to be a mistake in hindsight. But right now Omi was warm and in a good mood and he just wasn't quite ready to leave. And it made him weirdly happy to hear the response 'Good' to a denial of having anywhere else to be.

The arm came around him. Omi saw the lean in and, without really thinking more of it, closed the gap with his mouth.

Oh. Well now. Their bodies pushed together, and Omi's lips found his, to which Akaya had no objection. He grinned against Omi's mouth as he tasted the lingering bit of his sweet cocktail mix with the bitterness of beer. The music throbbed around them, the crowd paid them no mind, and Akaya pulled him closer with his palm sliding in behind Omi's neck.

With more than enough encouragement to continue, Omi pressed harder into the kiss. He inferred from where Akaya put his hands which side of the field he played, but that didn't mean he was going to be a passive doll. He tested a bit of tongue against Akaya's lips, his eyes slipping closed as the hand slid behind his neck. And with Akaya's hands moving around him, it seemed as good a time as any to slide his own against the man's back.

Omi could infer whatever he wanted from Akaya's body language. He was a versatile sort, but his approach did tend toward the more aggressive kind. He needed no further invitation to part his lips and slide his tongue inside, almost still in the same rhythm as the music that swayed their hips together. The throbbing beat echoing in the rising pulse of his own.

Without Akaya's movements guiding his own, Omi probably would have forgotten to keep dancing. It was a little too easy to get caught up in kissing. Especially as it seemed to be escalating quickly, a fact to which Omi did not object. He greeted Akaya's tongue with his own and a soft moan that likely wasn't audible over the music-- but might have been felt through their joined mouths.

[ Fast forwarding a tiny bit, if that's ok... ]

The crowd and music rang in his ears, but they sounded muffled. Maybe it was the surging sensation in his head, kind of an impulsive, feral thing that took over as the light buzz of alcohol hummed under his skin. How they ended up against the wall of the hallway connecting the main dance floor to the VIP lounge, he couldn't say. When you're in the midst of a surging body mass, you follow the flow. And the whole way there, they hadn't stopped, lip locked, hip to hip and fingers pushing into hair as they groped and grinded to the beat.

Edited (Grammar check ) 2016-06-14 15:03 (UTC)

Whatever thoughts Omi had of leaving a few minutes ago were forgotten, lost and buried under the cloud of being horny and just on the edge of drunk. Akaya wasn't helping, either. His energy was infectious and enabling. Omi found himself fully swept into the current of the moment, with the beat of the music throbbing through his shoes and the wall against which they leaned.

Having never been in the club before, he wasn't really sure where the hall led, or if they were still following it. It didn't matter that much, as long as there were fewer people than the dance floor. He wanted more space. More privacy. More this. He pressed his body forward, sandwiching Akaya more firmly against the wall and dropping his hands down to the man's hips. He hooked his fingers in the belt loops as though to lock their hips tighter together.

The hall was darker than the strobed dance floor, but the beats of the music could still be felt through the floor, the wall. Akaya couldn't help but think how hot this was, a body pressing hard against his, grinding to the music's rhythm. He slid his hand to Omi's waist, pushing under the hem of his shirt to get to the skin underneath. He ran the palm across the waist and to the small of his back to pull him even closer still, deepening the kiss with a feverish growl.

Omi didn't think it was possible for them to get any closer together without being naked, but he liked Akaya's hands slipping under his shirt in the back just the same. He mirrored the gesture, leaving the belt hooks for the waistline at Akaya's hips. His fingertips sought out the hem and trapped themselves between those tight jeans and the skin underneath. He couldn't really move them to the back given Akaya's position against the wall, so instead he contented himself to this slighter escalation and the signal it contained: if Akaya wanted to bypass the barrier of clothing in their touching, Omi was more than game.

Clothes were cumbersome things sometimes, Akaya thought fleetingly as he felt Omi's hands around the hem of his jeans. What the hell was he waiting for? A hint? You would think that sucking his tongue while groping his bare back was hint enough. Akaya pulled him closer by the hand he now had on the back, riding up his hip with his leg he hooked around Omi's.

He's clearly still too sober for this scene. Omi isn't used to this. There's moving fast, which he's done more than once before with a more dominant partner, and then there's this, where he's steering but at someone else's pace-- and one that's faster than what he usually takes when he's in charge. He probably should simply stop thinking about it and do what he wants.

But there's another side of Omi that is a little too sensible for that, even on the line between tipsy and drunk. He's still got enough of his judgment around for that: don't lose sight of where you are, who's around you, what could happen if you aren't careful. And you really, really ought to...

"I should really be heading home," he breathes, as his hand slides down between the tight space of Akaya's tummy and waistband for bare touch.

There's sensible, and then there's Akaya. He's got a reputation to protect, an image to market. His agent will probably be unhappy, but fuck him. It's not like sex appeal (or availability) is the thing he wants to sell himself on. At the end of the day, it's about the music.

And besides, he's enjoying himself far too much to think about the consequences.

He chuckles darkly as he feels Omi's hand over his stomach.

"Go, then," he says daringly. If Omi wants to stop, then stop.

"You like pushing your luck, don't you?" Omi asks in the same voice. He doesn't want to go, but he also doesn't like the idea of just capitulating to that dare. Sure, it's just flirty banter, but that's part of what makes it hard to bow to.

"What if I did?" He challenges back.

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