Anniversary

[Notes and Disclaimers]

Jocelyn was on his second Tom Collins when he saw the other man, one face out of the throng on the dance floor catching his attention in a fortuitous combination of lighting, chance and timing. The man was dancing more or less alone, sweat-sheened skin catching the light of the strobes as he undulated, flying hair obscuring his face as he lost himself in the hectic rhythm. He was right, Jocelyn thought, exactly what he'd been looking for when he'd decided to come to Sticky Fingers tonight, and it was far from a difficult decision to set his glass down and slide through the crush to the dance floor.

He'd always loved to dance - one of his earliest memories was watching his parents tango - but he rather thought that his mother would be vaguely appalled to learn that this was where years of dance lessons had brought him: pressed against firm, sweaty male bodies, gyrating ever closer to where his target still danced, passing from one man to another as though building a human chain. He rubbed, cat-like, against the hands that occasionally reached for him, but never allowed himself to be caught, never reaching out himself until he reached his dancer.

The man's skin was slick and fever-hot when Jocelyn's palm slid over his exposed waist, turning him until they were face to face. The eyes that met his didn't evidence any surprise at the sudden invasion of his space and, as Jocelyn's other hand moved to grip the man's hip and draw him closer, a smile left no question as to his welcome. The man's arms slung around Jocelyn's shoulders as he stepped closer still, thighs parting until he straddled Jocelyn's leg, each thrust of his hips brushing his denim-clad groin against Jocelyn's thigh. They moved well together, sliding together as the music vibrated through them, and, as one song eased into another and the man's hips ground more firmly against his thigh, Jocelyn realized that he wasn't the only one looking for more than dancing that night.

It seemed to take no effort at all to bend and lick the man's shoulder, tasting smoke and sweat and skin. A shiver rode the wake of his tongue, making Jocelyn laugh before licking a long line up the tender skin of the man's throat as he dropped his head back. An answering laugh vibrated under his tongue and then the man's chin was lowering again and a mouth was meeting his and his mouth was filled with the other man's tongue, sliding and licking and good enough to shut out the mass of humanity surrounding them. His tongue encountered metal and he groaned helplessly even as he tore his mouth away to gasp for breath under the weight of the arousal suddenly crushing his chest.

The bar in his tongue wasn't the only metal the man bore, Jocelyn realized as their chests heaved together. He leaned back enough to ascertain that, in addition to the bar nestled in the man's navel, two rings gleamed at his chest, one in each nipple. Jocelyn couldn't help his grin as he reached for one, his finger flicking against it before curling around it and tugging. If the man made a sound, it wasn't audible over the music, but the arch of his back was unmistakable. Jocelyn's mouth accepted the invitation eagerly, closing around the second ring as his partner's fingers curled briefly in his hair, then fell away to his own low-slung waistband.

Pulling away again to watch as the man unbuttoned his fly, Jocelyn received two more surprises that were enough to make his cock throb painfully against his jeans: the dick being revealed was huge and uncut, the flushed head swollen past the foreskin, and adorned with still more metal, four rings chaining up the shaft. Jocelyn was kneeling even before he realized it, only to be abruptly halted as the man's hands caught his jaw.

"Fuck me."

They were the first words they'd exchanged, and Jocelyn would be hard-pressed to come up with a better way to break the silence. Straightening again, he drew the man's hands from his face and guided them instead to his fly. As their hands lowered the zipper, his erection seemed to burst forth, bobbing with the sudden freedom. He caught it in one fist, stroking roughly as his other hand dug into his back pocket, fumbling for the condom and the slim packet of lube that he'd tucked there earlier in the evening.

"Optimist." There was a definite hint of laughter in the man's voice now, but his fingers trembled slightly as they took the condom from Jocelyn and tore it open. He rolled it deftly down Jocelyn's shaft even as Jocelyn tore the lube open and squeezed it over the rubber, groaning when the man's hand returned to pump his cock, spreading the lube and making Jocelyn see stars.

It took only his hand at the man's hip to turn him and jerk his pants down to reveal the curves of his ass, and it was only a moment longer before he was sliding into the virtual furnace of the man's body. Finesse was beyond him as they fucked, Jocelyn driving into the man's body in short thrusts nearly hard enough to stagger them. He was dimly aware of catcalls from some of the men around them, but they didn't matter, nothing mattered but the clench of the man's body as his hips pumped, the way that his head dropped back to rest on Jocelyn's shoulder, the sounds he made as he jerked himself. Jocelyn's fingers reached around the man to find his nipples again, twisting and pulling and flicking until the man was writhing against him like a live wire.

If asked later, Jocelyn wouldn't be able to say with any certainty who came first; one moment, he was panting against the man's neck and thrusting into his tight heat in an increasingly broken rhythm, and the next it seemed as though his brains were jetting from his cock and his teeth were sunk into the sensitive junction of the man's neck and shoulder. His hands, too heavy to hold up suddenly, fell to curl around the man's, finding hot slickness coating the fingers beneath his, and he couldn't help the grin; no doubt, some of the dancers surrounding them had been baptized, but, judging from the hearty applause, no one particularly minded.

He sighed as he slid from the man's body, stripping off the condom and awkwardly tucking himself back into his jeans. The man was doing the same as he turned, wiping his wet fingers off on his jeans, and Jocelyn leaned toward him for one last kiss, one last mating of tongues, and then he was slipping away, weaving through the dancers with practiced ease. He found a garbage can to dispose of the condom, then made his way outside, inhaling deeply as he stepped from the smoky confines into the crisp night.

It was a short walk to his car and a short drive to a 24-hour grocery store. He realized he was whistling as he picked up coffee and Black Forest torte, but couldn't seem to make himself stop, not even when the cashier regarded him with no small amount of suspicion. A few minutes later, he was back in his car and still whistling, only stopping when he pulled into the driveway of a modest townhouse. He grinned to see the black Camry already in the driveway, and was still grinning when he let himself in the front door.

"Noah? I'm home, baby. Where are you?"

"In here." Noah's voice came from the spare bedroom they'd turned into an office, and Jocelyn stopped only long enough to deposit groceries in the kitchen before padding to the room's doorway.

"I brought cake."

Noah looked up just long enough to roll his eyes, although an easy grin belied any irritation. "I'd been wondering what kept you; I've been home for ages, decided I might as well have another go at these papers while I waited."

"Sorry, baby." Jocelyn's grin was apologetic as he bent to kiss Noah's cheek, then perched on the edge of his desk. "Almost done?"

"Almost." Noah's grin was crooked as he slanted a glance at Jocelyn, but softened as their eyes met. "Why don't you go wait for me?"

"And leave you to the mercies of freshman-level philosophy? I don't think so." It was easy enough to toe his boots off, much less easy to slide his toes to rest against Noah's groin stealthily enough to not be smacked away. They rubbed lightly until Noah finally groaned and pushed away the paper he'd been marking, then grabbed Jocelyn's hips and dragged him across the desk to perch in front of him.

They'd been together long enough to learn all the necessary places to secret lube, and Noah retrieved it from a desk drawer as Jocelyn squirmed out of his jeans, tossing them vaguely in the direction of the door. It took only a moment more to get Noah's jeans open, and then Jocelyn was flipped face-down on the desk, cold lube was smeared over the pucker of his anus, and Noah was pushing into him.

Jocelyn jerked when he head of Noah's cock skimmed over his prostate, then again when the first of the metal rings chaining up his shaft followed. He'd been skeptical when Noah had first talked about the piercing, but now, when one ring after another was rubbing over his prostate, he was all but ready to offer prayers of thanks. It was probably a good thing they were committed, he'd decided once after a particularly enthusiastic fuck, when he and Noah had been collapsed in bed without even enough energy to find the covers, because he was ruined now for a plain cock.

Reaching across the desk, Jocelyn gripped the far side, using it for leverage as he drew his body taut, trying to raise his hips more. His orgasm at the club had done nothing to ease the ache of arousal, and each of Noah's thrusts only wound it tighter until he was nearly crying each time Noah withdrew. It was a surprise when he came, all but flattened against the desk by the weight of Noah over him as Noah's hips spasmed, shallow thrusts giving way to the shudders of his own orgasm.

They lay across the desk for long moments, both panting, until Jocelyn began to laugh helplessly. After a few seconds, Noah joined in, his forehead pressed to the back of Jocelyn's shoulder. It was only when their chortles had died to weak chuckles that Jocelyn could find the breath to speak.

"It was hot, before. At Sticky Fingers, I mean. But I think I like it best right here. I get you all to myself and we get to scar your students for life."

"Jack," Noah began, then shook his head, nuzzling through Jocelyn's hair to press a kiss to the nape of his neck. "Happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary, baby."

- fin -

Notes and Disclaimers

Anniversary is an original work of fiction and is © Shana Gardner.

Anniversary is a piece that came out of nowhere one night, stampeding over other projects and demanding to be written right away. It didn't turn out quite how I had it in my head, but I enjoy the characters enough to perhaps want to explore a few other stories in their world.