Strifehart Week 2016: Aug 19th/Day 3: Crossover or Modern

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Same day as before, same seat and same drink in hand, Cloud lets his eyes wander through the crowds illuminated only by flashing lights set to an ear-splitting beat. He makes a habit of coming here every week.

Cloud tells himself it's because the booze is good. It's not.

He also convinces himself that it's a good atmosphere, the other club attendees have respect for boundaries, the place isn't a hole in the wall he frequently pretends is news to him.

He's lying.

And he most definitely doesn't come back to endure the too loud beats and just shy of tasteful music, overenthusiastic lighting and crowds because of one man …

Only he does.

His blue eyes hadn't left his silent obsession the moment he'd spotted him. Cloud swallowed dryly before he brought his drink to his lips. Wow …

He admires the dark tresses of hair that shadow his face and catch in his dance moves. Cloud also lets his attention draw to the finely muscled arms, to the handsome face, to the legs up to here and the mysterious eyes that more often than not are closed as he dances.

But while Cloud admires others do too. Cloud notices the looks his quiet fascination draws, the eyes that look the man up and down, undressing him from his skin-tight leathers with eyes alone.

The song changes to a deeper beat and Cloud's eyes knowingly drop to the man's hips. His expectations are more than satisfied as they shake and roll to the rhythm.

The mood sours when someone steps into the man's personal space, the mysterious eyes open and he sizes up the newcomer. Like many before them, he dances with this stranger and then leaves them breathless.

Cloud had seen it before, how many souls this man had out danced, the slight frown as they give up, the subtle curve of his shoulders as his pace shifts back into an unattainable solo, the eyes close again, and it's like he's dancing with a phantom.

He occasionally invites people to dance, Cloud's frowns are deeper and stay longer whenever that happens, though he tries to blame the songs or the booze and not the envious pangs in his chest. But the result is the same, and the gorgeous brunet dances alone until Cloud loses track of him, or until he leaves. Cloud always leaves shortly after him. No reason to stay.

But today is different. He's watched for no more than four songs before those eyes open and start their usual assessment of the crowd- they stop on Cloud.

Caught, Cloud looks away, cursing himself for being so oblivious, and when he looks back the man is gone.

His mood drops like the ice in his drink. He blames the booze. It's easier than admitting he's pining, that he's secretly waiting for his turn to be beckoned to the dancefloor while battling fear that it'll never happen, or he'll be left behind like the many, many others. What if he just fucked up? Damnit. Yeah, it's definitely the booze, he thinks as he pulls a hand through his hair.

He stands up, mostly for a better vantage point though he's also going to search for a stronger drink while he's at it, when a pair of muscled arms slide around his waist and shoulder, lips press close to his ear. "Hello, beautiful, dance with me?"

Cloud can hardly believe his luck when he sees just who's caught him. His voice is stuck in his throat, his eyes are wide, and he swears he hears the man laugh when his heart skips several beats. But the brunet merely smiles, eyes open and a smile on the cusp of a smirk on his face. Cloud realises with a hint of panic that he looked even better up close.

He nods in answer, mouth drier than before his downright awful drink. His captor seems pleased and steps around him, a hand sliding around his lower back and lingering on his arm as he leads the way. Cloud swallows the anticipation threatening to make him sick and follows the man through the crowds in a serene daydream he's half sure he made up.

The crowds are harder to walk through than the brunet is showing … Cloud is bumped a few steps left and right before he finds enough space to breathe. He sees the stranger giving him an amused look, eyes peering through his bangs like spying.

There are hands on his hips before he can think to excuse his slight clumsiness, and then he's dancing.

Just as before, he admires his obsession. He moves like he's done this a thousand times, fluid and taunting, sex on legs with a splash of fear to remind you that the dream world ends with one wrong move.

Just as always, Cloud can't look away.

He is barely aware that he's dancing too, the burning thoughts of being the one to match this handsome man steam off into hazy daydreams of how those hands would feel like on bare skin, how those hips would feel inside his thighs.

To stop his slight shudders desire wrings out of him, he silently mimics the things he wants to do to his partner now he finally has his chance. He has no problem getting handsy, and neither does the gorgeous dancer, a thigh teases its way between Cloud's, and he missteps once as all the blood leaves his head to run south.

The dark chuckle makes his heart flip-flop similar to fear and evenly as intense. Everything about this experience is intense, he understands why some of his past conquests needed to stop halfway, he craves a clear head almost as strongly as he does more heat.

He refuses to give up.

He breaks away just far enough to return the favour, his hand slides up the smooth leather to the man's crotch, and as he dances around him, he spots the heated, lidded look out of the corner of the man's face and his stomach flips. He's interested.

Cloud's insides tremble with excitement, or was that the too loud beat of the song vibrating through him?

Regardless, it pressed fatigue to the corner of his mind, and he continued to tease and learn and practice what he had observed like this was a battle for life and death.

At last, when his feet hurt and his shirt was damp with perspiration when his own eyes began to close to block out the intense lights and lustful eyes that scorched him. At last, he felt those arms around him again and those lips by his ear, chest moulding against his back that made him long for skin on skin.

"Relax," that shiver-inducing voice rumbles into his ear, "You'll need some energy for later." He bites the lobe and Cloud let his head fall back against the taller man's shoulder, already moaning at the image that sentence conjured.

The man's hands squeeze both his steadily growing erection and his ass, shamelessly feeling him up with no regard for who could be watching. Cloud loved it.

He reached up to turn the brunet's head towards him, kissing him chastely once – it was all he could manage with those hands freely palming his body in all the right ways. "Outside." He's tugged off of the dancefloor as soon as the suggestion left his lips.

They're out the front doors and into the quiet city night. The brunet links a hand through his "My place or yours, beautiful?"

Cloud makes a habit of coming here every week. Not for the booze, not for the music, but for one man and the way he moved. "Yours … it's Cloud by the way."

The brunet repeats his name with a note of awe, Cloud asks him with his eyes, but he smirks and tugs him close enough his breath warmed Cloud's cheeks, "Okay, Cloud, call me Leon."

When it's over, when the sheets have been soiled several times over, when their bare skin spores enough scratches and bite marks to challenge a leopard, and when Leon finally began showing signs of fatigue Cloud whispers breathlessly, "Same thing tomorrow?"

Leon's eyes scorch him through the dark bangs, and he kisses with enough passion to leave Cloud boneless on his chest. "Sure. I love it when you watch me." He chuckles when Cloud's eyes widen; Leon had made a habit of obsessing over him too …

The man brought a relatively clean blanket up to their hips, hands stroking Cloud's thighs to prelude a new round as he whispered a line that made Cloud moan, "Though I could get used to dancing with you."

Cloud agreed, he liked this dancefloor better.

I know I already posted for today but ... I couldn't help myself, I needed to do both!