Body Rock

[xanster]

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His eyes scanned the crowd; fingers working the deck.
The beat of the music moved the masses; bodies swaying; grinding.
Strangers meeting; connecting and then leaving. Sometimes alone, sometimes with company.

What do you mean?

It had started more or less like most.
A song of whispered promises and body rock; tonight I wanna make your body rock.

On a rare night off when he was not at work and was part of the people that sought release amidst the music; the heavy beats; the movements of the people. Whether hindered or helped by alcohol or sometimes a little something extra. Everyone on the floor, each searchin for their own bubble; albeit a temporary one.

He had been amongst the bodies when he had come up against a figure standing out against the crowd. The other was not really dancing but his head was tilted upwards, eyes closed as though in worship of the dj on the decks. God is a DJ, love is the music, you are the dancefloor.

And as the strobe light stroked over the other's upturned face; he watched and was mesmerised. Take my hand and free love; this is free love.

Maybe it was the night, the atmosphere, the alcohol or just plain horniness; he was not sure. Not even now. But the other drew him in like a magnet; like a moth to a flame.

Free love; this is free love. That's what we are made of.

He pulled up alongside the other's lean body and inhaled. A soft scent like white magnolia and something more.

Then the music changed; the beat pulsing through his veins. A music maestro himself, he automatically moved in line. Body rock; tonight I'll make your body rock.

Without realising, the crowd had parted for him, aware a master was in their space. Drops of sweat beaded along his forehead and slid slowly down his neck. His white shirt was unbuttoned; his tank top inside becoming more visible through the wet. He twirled and locked; popped and thrusted.

Honey. Funny. Bunny.

And then the drop. He opened his eyes and realised the stage he had been given. Panting, he turned to his side. And there he was, his Greek god. Watching him with dark eyes; pupils lit by the strobes.

The music changed and the crowd shifted back into the space they had vacated. Except the two of them; stopped and staring.

I've got rapture; I'm in deep. Would you like something other than me?

He slid in close; waiting. The other, slightly taller, lowered his head as if to cede. A tinge of shyness on the upturn of his lips.

He got bolder; pushed forward by the bass. Inviting. Hands on hips. Breath on neck. Fringe on cheek.

"Baby."
Hi.
You were amazing. How many people on the dancefloor do you think, want you now?
I only care about whether one does.

Hips sliding in between; grinding. He turns the other in his arms- back to chest, hand placed on hipbones, a finger tracing down the V.

"You know I want you."

He lowers his head to the expanse of skin, inviting and tantalising. The smell of white magnolia, teasing. And he kisses; gently. A contrast to the drive for fucking in the air and people around.

A low moan calls for his attention and he moves his lips up to a sharp jawline; to the shell of a ear that turns red at his touch.

"Hey.
I need you."
The other pants.

"I need you too."
Changmin turns his head to his lover and swallows his lips whole.

Baby, he gasps, feeling palms encircle his ass and squeeze.

He licks and sucks. Kisses and tongues. Refusing to part, whispering words of want against the other's breath, as they sway to the music.

"Let's go home, mi amor."
Changmin nods, a final kiss for the road.
Yunho turns him back, facing out with both hands back on his hips, as he walks Changmin out of the club.

People watch in envy; not realising the IT couple of the Korean showbiz industry, legendary music producer U-Know and the famous photographer, Shim Changmin had just been in their midst.