"I said  
'I love you' 
I said 
You didn't say a word" 
 

The Cure "There Is No If"

For a moment I think I'm seeing things. Am I really this drunk? But no, you're actually here. In your casual jeanswear you stand out hideously from all the leather and lace. Your skin is damp with sweat, hair awry, clothing mussed from fighting the crowd.  Why are you here?  

"Come on Darren, I'm taking you home."  You attempt to reach for my arm, but I pull away.  

"Fuck off!" I jump backward, running directly into Damien, who slides a protective arm around my waist in response.  That stirs a heated but unreadable look from you.  "I can take care of myself." I argue insolently, trying for a dismissive tone.  

"Darren, come on." Your tone isn't encouragement. It's a demand. You are ordering me to go with you like I'm some bloody dog. Well fuck you, Daniel, you don't own me. You don't even want to.  

"Go away." I tell you slowly, trying to convey with my eyes how deathly serious I am about this. I don't want you here, reminding me why I'm here. I just want Damien to sweep me away and fuck me til I can't remember my own name, let alone yours. Having you standing in front of me, telling me off, is ruining it.  

You make another attempt to foist yourself upon me, and I go on the defensive. I shove you. I actually physically hit out at you. I've never touched you in anger before and it's kind of liberating.  I see you react, arms coming up, ready to get physical, but you stop yourself immediately. You don't hit back.  

So here we are. Facing off in the midst of a dense moshpit. I can feel Damien's arms still resting on my waist. His presence, both protective and bothersome. You are staring at me, but not in anger. No the flare of anger in your response was extinguished almost immediately, now all that remains is disbelief. And disgust.  

Your eyes flick from me, to Damien and back again. You are taking deep breaths and blinking a lot. I can see all the words you want to say, but are fighting to contain. Go on say them, Dan, it's not like anything you say can make this any worse.  

You don't speak.  You take a deep breath, make an effort to unclench your fists, shake your head ever so slightly in my direction before you turn and vanish into the crowd.  I feel the warm body of a stranger pressed up against my back as I watch you leave.  

Yeah, I know what regret feels like.  

Damien's fingers toy with the fine hairs at the back of my neck. You're long gone but I still haven't turned around to face him. His touch is still light, still skillful, still nice, but the pleasure it gives me is tainted by what just happened. Tainted by you. 

Fuck you, Dan. Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK you. 

You can't just walk in here and make me feel worthless. How dare you turn me away and then judge me when I seek what you wont give me with someone else. You're the one who's missing out. I'm a living feeling being, not a machine, and I wont ignore my desires. 

I wish I'd said that. Or at least the "fuck you" part. 

The press of a pair of warm lips on my shoulder remind me of where I am. And with who.  I finally turn around to face Damien. Lord, but he's beautiful, eyes wide and clear looking up at me with innocent inquiry. I know this is the point where I'm supposed to explain what's just occurred, but the thought of doing that just sucks all the energy from my body. I can't even open my mouth. 

Damien's breath is warm on my neck as he drops a kiss on my jawline. I have to fight my instinct to flinch away. I manage to keep from moving, but that just draws his attention to my unnatural stillness. He cocks his head, eyebrows raised. 

"So who was that?" He asks, body still moving lightly against mine, and I can feel his leg brushing between my two. 

"No one." I run my fingers up his arm encouragingly and I'm almost surprised at the unfurling of heat in my groin in response to his sinuous movements. 

"Is no one going home without you?"  His fingers brush lightly at my neck as his face drifts closer to mine. 

"I guess so." I try to shrug a little, make it look casual, like I don't care. All the while my fingers brush at the strip of bare skin of Damien's back between the waistband of his pants and the hem of his shirt. He half smiles then leans his face in to mine, but doesn't kiss me, just paints the outline of my lips with his pointed tongue. 

"Don't you want to go with him?" He's got one eyebrow cocked, leaning back from me a little. The fingers of his right hand draw random patterns across my chest. I shudder a little when they slide over a nipple. 

"I'm with you."  I force the words out shakily. He's moving against me now, our groins brushing together and I'm hot, so very hot. I can feel his hand underneath my shirt, fingers teasing at the bare skin of my back. Each touch sends little sparks of sensation right to my groin. He's moving in closer, other hand cupping the back of my head, the slow grind of our hips against each other, the press of his body against mine.  It feels good, so good it's making me lightheaded. 

"Are you?" He barely whispers it, but his voice seems so much louder than the noise of the club. Everything's faded into the background except these compelling eyes, this pretty face, these lush, beautiful lips drifting closer and closer to mine. I hardly have time to draw breath before he's covered my mouth with his and I kiss him back immediately, wanting to devour him, taste him completely. 

My arms tighten around his body, pressing him flush against me and it feels so good. It's been so long since I've felt the hard press of an aroused male against me. I've missed it so much. I abandon myself to the kiss, letting my hands wander wherever they want to (they're mainly drawn to the firm curves of his arse).  He's teasing my body with his hands too, setting my nipples alight, rubbing fingers across the hot flesh of my back and chest underneath my shirt.  We're grinding against each other gratituitously like dogs in heat, it's hot, it's sleazy but I don't care. I feel so high, like I could do anything, like we could fuck right here on the dancefloor and it wouldn't matter. 

Coming up for air I wrench my mouth from his, resting my forehead against his shoulder, breaths coming heavy. His hands still brush up and down my back and I can feel him panting too.  My head is spinning. I nuzzle my head into his shoulder, speaking his name. 

His body stiffens and I'm not sure why. I move in to kiss him again but he turns his head away. Just like you did. I fight a sense of deja vu. This isn't fair. I'm beginning to feel like no one will ever let me kiss them successfully again. 

Confused, I cup his chin and turn his face to me. 

"What's wrong?" I ask softly, genuinely vexed. There's a twinge of something mysterious in his eyes as he speaks, stating his response quite simply. 

"My name isn't Daniel.".