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I walked up the sidewalk and into the club, nodding distractedly to the glittery woman holding the door. My eyes opened wide to adjust to the gloom, and I was momentarily blinded by a flashing light. Stopping for a moment, I turned my head and saw a slide show on the wall, images bright on the white drapes drawn there. Cartoonish figures in impossible positions and fantasy colours flickered in quick succession, almost too fast to register consciously. I sidestepped to avoid the writhing, twirling body of a dancer, scheduled for tonight's festival supporting the cutting edge of the city's artists. Moving forward again, I scanned the bar in the center of the room for a clear space. Tightly packed bodies, mostly clothed in black, lined the enclosure. Squeezing between two groups, I caught the darkly smudged eye of a bartender and ordered a drink. He whirled around, swiveling his hips to the music and grasping bottles with fluid grace. Handing him his payment while a smile, I watched him spin back, bopping from customer to customer.

I retreated, sipping from the glass to keep from spilling it, and circled around the room slowly, finally coming to rest at the other side where there was room enough for me to sit flanked by two other stools. Busboys in their tight tee shirts and gelled hair swooped around picking up empty bottles, replacing ashtrays, and yelling to each other over the pounding beat. A bongo player was setting up in the corner, tapping experimentally and adjusting the microphone in front of him. Three young women waded through the crowd in fantasy outfits, tiny armor over their breasts and pelvises, capes sweeping from their shoulders, impossibly high platform boots strapped around their calves. I watched it all from under heavy lids, drinking slowly.

As I stirred my second drink, one of the costumed women climbed up on the bar beside me and started to gyrate to the music, holding onto a pipe above her head for balance. I leaned my elbow on the bar and tilted my head back, craning my neck to peer up at her, and we shared a smile. Looking back down and across the room, I saw two newcomers shouldering their way to belly up to the bar. They were dressed in the uniform of young men on the prowl: jeans slung low across narrow hips, close fitting shirts, hair in dirty curls and spikes as if they just woke up. They were leaning in close to each other, trading words that made them smile. Young smiles, abandoned and giddy, flashing white teeth in the light of the projector. One was taller, leanly muscled and reflecting the silver light in golden tones. He seemed to take in everything about him with a mischievous stance as he chatted to his companion. Handing a shot glass to the other, who looked more a boy than man, he watched the dancer as she moved above me, her heels thumping perilously close to my fingers. Cocking his head, he saw me. I flicked my eyes upwards and back, and he laughed, nudging his friend and gesturing with his glass. And I was snared in the luminous glow of wide blue eyes on a pale, peculiar face, only able to tear away when those delicate lids closed so he could throw the shot back in his throat. The other lifted his drink to me and I returned the signal, then looked pointedly to the seats on either side of mine. His face brightened and I lost them in a sea of people.

Moments later, I felt a hand clap my shoulder and turned. They were arm in arm, the older grinning and talking fast in a clipped accent as he introduced himself and his friend, who smiled eagerly and shook my hand. Orlando and Elijah, ecstatic to be on leave from shooting a movie nearby. I recognized Elijah vaguely from my days in the states, but the other, his was a new face, and not one I'd likely forget. Beautiful cheekbones cutting down to a strong jaw, dark eyebrows slightly curved over liquid eyes that seemed almost black in the gloom. But I was distracted from a detailed perusal as he plunked down on a stool and went on with his rapid speech, commenting on everything. I shot back rude quips about the almost pornographic images shining on the wall opposite us, and he crowed, delighted. The dancer above us moved on, and he fidgeted, fingers tapping on surface of the bar, knees jiggling and shoulders twisting. finally he jumped up and bounced into the crowd to dance.

I followed him with my eyes, and glancing sideways, saw Elijah do the same, a sardonic smile quirking his lips and a wistful gleam in his eye. He looked at me and we shared a glance before he rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"He's a hopeless exhibitionist," he drawled, nodding to Orlando, who now gyrated and pumped to the heavy beat.

"With every reason to be," I replied, "He's gorgeous." Elijah's eyes sobered, watching him whirl from partner to partner on the dance floor with wild abandon.

"That he is."

"Horrible taste in shirts," I said thoughtfully, eyeing the dreadful stripes and ruffles. We looked at each other briefly, struggling to control our faces before cracking. Hooting and squealing, we clung to each other.

"I t-try to tell him," he gasped, shaking his head woefully, "But he insists he's the height of fashion." I burst out in another peal of giggles, wiping tears from my eyes. I spied Orlando making his way back through the crowd and shushed Elijah, both of us gulping our drinks to force down hiccups. He popped up in front of us and treated Elijah to a sweaty nuzzling, evoking an expression halfway between exasperation and sensual awareness. My skin tingled in sympathy. Scooping cubes from my glass, I hooked a toe around Orlando's knee and pulled him to me, rubbing the ice into his face and neck as he squirmed like a puppy. He tugged the hem of his garish shirt up and wiped off with it. I stared, dry-mouthed, at the tight stomach he's bared, share another glance with Elijah. Leaning over, I murmured in his ear.

"Exhibitionist, indeed." And we broke off into helpless chuckles while Orlando tilted his head quizzically.

"Sharing secrets already?"

"Pretty much," I said placidly, trying to straighten my features and failing. He put his arms around our shoulders and pulled us close.

"Do tell," he licked his lips, "I love secrets."

"Nope," I shook my head, leaning into Elijah. "Our secret, right, sweetie?" He giggled, nodding. Orlando pouted for a second, then slyly grinned.

"I have ways, you know." And a thumb rubbed my neck below my earlobe.

"Try me," I retorted, clamping down on the urge to stretch into it. Elijah chortled.

"You're in for it now." He was treated to a peck on the cheek and I was pulled off my perch and onto the dance floor. Elijah's laughter floated after me, foretelling my downfall.

I was spun and caught up against Orlando's firm body, his hands at my hips to move me to the baseline. I flung an arm around his neck and leaned into him to breath in his ear.

"Wanna play, do you?" Then back, letting his grip support me, my free arm swinging behind me. I ground into him, and his mouth opened in surprise and transformed into a boyish smirk. He let his head fall back and laughed out loud, then tugged me up and spun me again, this time pulling my back to him. His hand reached around to jab a thumb into the waist of my jeans, slid further to brush the tops of my panties. His other arm hung over my shoulder loosely, and his mouth was close to my ear, words buzzing.

"I warn you, I take no prisoners." I tilted my head back and reached up to bring him down, ear to my lips, mouth to my neck.

"Ah, but I do." And I was rewarded with a nip on my skin and a hand spreading over my lower belly, long fingers playing with the fabric there.

"Look," he prompted, and I lifted my head. "Lij is watching. Let's put on a show, shall we?"

I trained my gaze, locking into Elijah's intense stare, and licked my lips, allowing my partner to move me with the pounding beat. We swiveled and groped, staying just this side of obscene. I shared moments with Elijah, time and again; small smiles and electrified gazes that shrank the distance between us. I willed him to feel what I felt: racing blood, dripping sweat, zinging nerves.

Gasping for air, I moved off the dance floor and snatched his drink, gulping the watered liquor. Orlando pressed close behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Lij, this one is a treat! What shall we do with her?" I inclined my head, trying to see him over my shoulder, laughing though I tried to look indignant. He nudged my jaw with his nose and licked my skin, lapping up the sweat with a playful growl. My eyes closed to savor the shiver that trickled through me, then I forced them open to respond.

"Treat, huh? What am I, a toy?" I disengaged myself from his lanky body and sat next to Elijah, butting his shoulder with mine. Orlando gave me a contrite look, ducking his chin to make full use of his eyes. But I caught the dancing gleam in them and snorted, relenting.

Elijah looked on, eyes slightly glazed already from drink, sloppy grins breaking out at random. We ordered more rounds, shouting bawdy jokes and stories of conquest over the music. Orlando and I were engaged in a competition to outdo one another, Elijah quickly left behind to bubble happily into his glass.

Hours later, we tumbled from a cab and up the stairs into Orlando's apartment. The television was on, and we continued our game of one-upmanship in front of it while Elijah collapsed on the couch. When we heard a light snore from his direction, Orlando rose. He gently pulled Elijah's boots off for him and covered him with a blanket. With a last considering glance, and a whisper to me, he led me into his bedroom.

By the cold light of a streetlamp, he pulls me to him, running his hands up my back and into my hair.

"Still want to play," he breathed into my ear.

"Mmm," I moaned, "without a doubt. But only if it involves getting you out of that hideous shirt." He barked out a laugh, course with desire, that quickly turned to a groan when I latched my teeth into the salty skin of his jaw. I backed him roughly against the door, pushing his chin up to bare his throat to my open mouth.

"Is this the game you had in mind?" I whispered into his skin. His hands moved to my ass, grasping and kneading.

"Yes," he breathed, "Just like that, luv."

Ripping at his shirt, I yanked it from his shoulders and he arched against me to let it flutter to the carpet. I retreated to remove my own top, and he tried to move with me. With a snarl, I shoved him back, and his eyes glittered in the dark as he watched me strip. Flinging my clothing aside, I stepped back to rub against him, purring at the friction of his skin on my breasts, the denim of his jeans on my thighs. His hands whipped around, half lifting me to him as he bent me backwards to feed greedily at my nipples. I gasped at the play of teeth and tongue there, my hands sliding into his hair and holding on for support.

Carrying me forward, he unsteadily moved to the bed and tumbled on top of me, our legs hanging off the edge. He fumbled with his jeans as we devoured each other's mouths, but he slid down to land heavily on his knees, tongue flickering briefly at my sex, teasing a gasp for air from my lungs and leaving me panting as he stood to kick off his shoes and peel away the cloth. I scooted to sit up and pulled him forward, burying my face in his abdomen, filling myself with his musky scent: a combination of smoke and male sweat that left me hungry. His cock bobbed under my chin and I teased him in turn, grazing his shaft with my teeth and laving my tongue over the glanz. I felt his knees wobble and looked up with a wolfish grin, baring my teeth wickedly.

With a breathless giggle, he jumped onto the bed, tugging me with him. Our limbs, still damp and salty, tangled and slid together. His skin was burning hot, his tongue wet and thrusting in my mouth. I ran my nails lightly over his back as we drank of each other, starving for air and flesh.

Abruptly, I was on my back, pressed into the mattress by his writhing weight, my hips twitching to grind closer to his heavy cock. He curved his back to find my breasts again, hands and mouth leaving marks and eliciting moans of approval from my throat. His tongue swirled, dancing over my belly, tickling ripples of pleasure. He wedged his shoulders between my thighs, pressed his fingers into my hipbones. I could feel warm air washing over my sex, and strained to reach the source of it, knowing I was swollen and dripping, itching for him to soothe. He dipped his head, and I felt a soft slide into me, arched my back and dug my hands into the covers. His tongue explored, up and down my lips, around my pulsing clitoris, slurping and thrusting into my opening. I whined, and a power-hungry laugh vibrated against me, making me catch my breath and bite my lip. Gentle lips enclosed my clit; his tongue raced in circles. My nerves sang, muscles cramping in the effort to push closer. The stubble of his chin prickled into my tender flesh, compelling me to grind against him. Surging electricity whirled through my body, drawing ever tighter to my core as my focus shrank to one tiny spot of ecstasy. I squeezed my eyes shut; my mind stopped working, and my body froze, teetering on the edge. A small increase in suction hurled me over and my inner walls clenched once, twice, then I was bucking and crying out in release, begging for more.

He dragged his tongue upward, flicking hard to make me spasm, then lifted his body over mine to place his mouth at my nipples again, biting and pulling. My brain exploded into action again. I flipped him on his back, surprising us both with my strength. Pinning his wrists, I straddled him to coat his cock with slick liquid. He moaned, eyes rolling back, body arching. I slithered against him, tempting and refusing entrance, whispering words of obscene desire into his ear. He panted, pushed at my hold on him, but I used my weight to force him back down, and he relented, swearing at me to give in. I laughed, low and breathless with power and lust, and began a series of bites along his neck, declaring the game mine for now. Gliding lower, I assaulted his tender nipples, causing more delicious cries and pleading.

Trusting that my actions could keep him weak, I switched my hold to one hand, hissing a sharp warning not to move. He nodded eagerly, submissively, shaking with excitement. I trailed my nails down his side, delighting in making him squirm between ticklishness and pleasure. I pinched his small nipples, scratched lightly at his armpits, all the while delving into his mouth to taste the smoky liquor there. Raising slightly on my knees, I sucked his lip harshly, pulling the blood to the surface. He twisted his wrists, grasping for my fingers, and I gave them to him, entwining them in his. He angled his pelvis to brush against me, and I stilled, enjoying the sensation of our swollen sexes sliding together. In this, I momentarily forgot to be in control, and it was my downfall. But I didn't mind in the least.

With a feral growl ripping out of him, he gripped my hand hard and wrenched it behind my back, forcing me to arch my spine and tilt my hips back. He cleverly bucked up just at that moment and impaled me. I cried out, shocked and senseless from being so suddenly stretched it was almost painful. He lunged up, clamping my ribcage to him with an iron limb wrapped around my waist. His dark eyes bored into me and I held my breath until I was dizzy. The he grinned, predatory and boyish, and I wet my bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement as he continued to hold us still, the only motion the throbbing of our blood.

Lifting his chin, he took my lip in his mouth in a slow slide that melted my muscles, then bit down, claiming even this small part of me. He rolled, and was on top of me again, reaching down to wrap my legs around him. He moved slowly at first, teasing and rolling and pushing in every conceivable angle. I dug into his shoulders, panting and mewling, and he quickened the pace, grunting with effort. I begged, and he moved faster, harder, yanking my hands over my head. He held me there, glaring into my eyes, whipping and pounding into me. Straining to meet him, I stared back, half smiling, half snarling, mirroring his expression.

His soft grunting picked up a whining edge; he was fast approaching his climax, and I could feel him growing harder, longer. The ridge of his head stroked me as he slammed in full tilt, smacking the insides of my thighs hard enough to sting, sharp enough to stoke my pleasure. He froze at the high point of a stroke, flinching as waves of his orgasm poured through him. Letting go of my wrists, he lowered to his elbows and rested a damp brow to mine. Our breath mingled, hot and fast, and I could feel his pulse beating inside of me, giving me rippling aftershocks that calmed. I clenched him inside me, and his pelvis jerked, involuntarily digging deeper. He let out a soft laugh, kissed me, and rolled to one side, tucking me next to him. I nuzzled his neck, sighing happily in tune with his sated humming. We dozed, alcohol still thrumming in our veins and making the room tilt and spin pleasantly.

The door clicked open, and I cracked one eye from where I rested my head on Orlando's shoulder. A disheveled Elijah stumbled in, rubbing his eyes, his hair standing on end.

"Orli?" His voice was sleepy but shaken. Orlando looked over at him, and I felt him tense. He sighed, relaxing slightly.

"Trouble sleeping, Lij?" he said softly.

Elijah hung his head, slurring in assent. I had a feeling that though the younger man was embarrassed, it was more for my presence than his need; that this was not the first time nightmares had brought him seeking his friend's comfort.

"Come on then." He walked clumsily to the bed, and Orlando sat up to undress him, then slid back to the middle of the bed, holding out the covers. He crawled in, sighing as Orlando lay back and gathered the two of us up against him. I reached over his chest to run my fingers through Elijah's hair, and he opened his huge eyes, gazing at me solemnly. Orlando began to snore. We looked at each other, and he brought his hand to mine, clasping it warmly as we settled and closed our eyes.

The End