Jensen - Purple Haze

Constellation nightclub was not Langs ideal environment. The place teemed with people and the buzz of dozens of conversationsnone of which he could follow over the vigorous music. The lights playing across the dance floor were almost too bright for his sensitive retinas, and the pattern they made didnt always match the music. Lang kept trying to find the beat, only to have the lights yank him off course.

But every time he caught the happiness shining from Dillons face, the noise and confusion faded into the background.

Dillon danced next to him, eyes closed, chin tilted up. His purple hair appeared black under the lights and was long enough to hide his face in a rhythmic sweep as he dropped his chin and swayed. Dillon turned, lifted his head again, and shimmied. That might be the right word. His legs and feet shuffled left, his hips jutted right. The movement was more poetic than that, though. Dillon flowed with the music, his lanky frame rippling with energy.

Dillon was the beat, and he was beautiful.

Six months ago, Dillon had been somewhat innocent of his true origins. The neglected child of a Wren scout, Dillon had come to New York to collect an inheritance. A week later, he discovered the grandfather he adored had actually been his fatherand an alien from another solar system. Hed discovered there were possibly more aliens in New York than truths, and Lang was one of them.

Six months ago, Lang had been a lonely Skov scout, bred and trained for the task of preparing a new home for his clan. Hed not heard from his people in nearly eight years when he, too, discovered the city was brimming with aliensenemies and alliesand a plot to displace him and his clan forever. Dillon had been the only one who cared enough to help him fight back.

The very least Lang could do in return was try to enjoy their night out. Find the joy in the music that Dillon did.

Sometimes, though, Lang wondered if he would ever be enough for the bright spark that was Dillon Lee. If their meeting hadnt put Dillon squarely on the path to disappointment. He shook his head. Tonight was not a night for such thoughts.

Dillon captured Langs hand and gave his fingers a squeeze. Dance with me! he shouted over the music.

Lang tried again to find the beat. To ignore the disparate waves of sound and color, the conversations that had nothing to do with him.

Dillon bent close to Langs ear. Pretend its just you and me.

Still holding his hand, Dillon began to sway again, the beat snaking through his limbs in a way that appeared completely naturalas though hed been born to dance. Lang let the rhythm travel from Dillons hand to his. Closed his eyes and waited for the beat to move through his skin and infect his blood.

It wasnt that Lang didnt want to do this. He didnt want to be awkward, either.

He wanted to have a good time to move, to feel free in the way only music and sex seemed to allow.

Langs hand jerked. The driving beat pushed into his arm. His hand jerked again, matching the notes skipping across his shoulders and down the other side of his body. Lang let his posture soften and relaxed his torso. Swayedslower than the beat, but still in time. Then it was simply a matter of jumping in, as one might when skipping into a turning jump rope. Waiting, watching. In his mind, he pictured the high-low arc, paired it with the tempo of the music, and jumped.

Then he was dancing.

Stars, he was dancing!

A high swept through hima sense of euphoria that could only come from being synchronized with another being. Opening his eyes, Lang looked for Dillon, which wasnt as easy as following the end of his hand. Around them, other dancers swayed in and out, turned and jumped. Lang tugged and Dillon came in close. Elation and a smile lit his face. Lang angled forward in, waited for the right moment, and managed a passing kiss. Dillon moved into his arms and grinned.

Lang laughed, the sound jerking free of his lungs with a gasp of surprise. Their hips bumped together, and Lang rebounded, nudged back a step. After tugging his hand free, Lang traced his palms over his lovers hips and up to his ribs, following the contours of a body hed spent months exploring. He arched a thumb toward Dillons chest, flicking the small shadow beneath his shirt. The bar threaded through Dillons nipple. Lang tilted his head to kiss his lovers neck. With Dillons hips coming into regular contact with his own, the dance began to feel less like work and more like sex.

Dillon slid his hands around Langs back, his palms hot through the cotton of Langs shirt, and held him loosely, allowing them to find their own way to express themselves while moving together. Flexing his fingers over the back of Dillons hip, Lang gripped his ass. As Dillon moved into him, the hardness at his groin pressed against Lang.

Stars, yes .

Leaning in, Lang captured Dillons mouth and immediately established dominance over it, setting the pace of their kisstiming it to their dance. Licking, thrusting with his tongue, teasing Dillon to the point of an audible moan.

Then the music changed subtly, a new song with a similar beat, and the shift was enough to jostle Lang out of the kiss. Growling, he nudged Dillon backward, one step, and another. He tilted his chin down and nodded, indicating Dillon should keep moving. That they would be moving, leaving the dance floor to explore the shapes their mouths made together, and this aching hardness between them.

With a wicked smile, Dillon complied.

It had taken a little convincing to get Lang out on New Years Eve. Dillon had expected that. What he hadnt expected was Langs swift acquiescence. Even after three refusals, it had seemed too easily given. So, Dillon had tried to make the night work for himbecause when Lang was happy, Dillon was happy.

So far, so good.