All Eyes on Me
rating: PG-13
summary: "Come dance, Zach."
disclaimer: Consider this disclaimed.
a/n: for this prompt on my Pinto meme
The music is loud and obnxious and pounds in his ears so hard Zach could swear his heart is beating with it, pulsing with every beat. Chris is somewhere on the dance floor, his mouth on some girl's neck, his hands in places Zach can't see.
He's supposed to be watching Zoe's purse, but it's long since disappeared and Zach can buy her a new one. He's fixated on Chris, obsessed with the way the man moves, strong and practiced, like a lion, like someone who knows what he wants.
Then Zach blinks and Chris is gone. His breath catches in his throat, like a parent that just lost his child. His eyes search the crowd frantically, his heart races, thumping wildly out of time to the music.
He jumps, gasping audibly when a hand touches his.
"Why so nervous, Mr. Quinto?" Chris drawls in his ear.
"Christ," Zach laughs. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
Chris raises his eyebrows, as though he very well knows what Zach really meant.
"Come dance, Zach," Chris coaxes, his arm snaking lower, resting just above Zach's hips.
"I don't dance," Zach says quickly because he doesn't. At least, not anything more complicated than the shimmy it takes to get into his jeans.
"You dance." It's almost accusatory, and Zach falters.
Chris leads the way to the middle of the floor, his smile widening with every step they take. He stops soon enough and faces Zach, eyes electric blue. He drapes his free arm around Zach's neck, leans in so Zach can feel cock against his own thigh.
Zach's mouth goes dry. Chris licks his lips.
"This is inappropriate," Zach half-shouts, half laughs, but his voice quavers, nervous and unsure.
"It's fun," Chris answers, his grip on Zach's waist tight and confident.
Zach doesn't know what to say to that, but Chris pulls him closer, so close that Zach feels him breathe.
"Just dance."
summary: "Come dance, Zach."
disclaimer: Consider this disclaimed.
a/n: for this prompt on my Pinto meme
The music is loud and obnxious and pounds in his ears so hard Zach could swear his heart is beating with it, pulsing with every beat. Chris is somewhere on the dance floor, his mouth on some girl's neck, his hands in places Zach can't see.
He's supposed to be watching Zoe's purse, but it's long since disappeared and Zach can buy her a new one. He's fixated on Chris, obsessed with the way the man moves, strong and practiced, like a lion, like someone who knows what he wants.
Then Zach blinks and Chris is gone. His breath catches in his throat, like a parent that just lost his child. His eyes search the crowd frantically, his heart races, thumping wildly out of time to the music.
He jumps, gasping audibly when a hand touches his.
"Why so nervous, Mr. Quinto?" Chris drawls in his ear.
"Christ," Zach laughs. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
Chris raises his eyebrows, as though he very well knows what Zach really meant.
"Come dance, Zach," Chris coaxes, his arm snaking lower, resting just above Zach's hips.
"I don't dance," Zach says quickly because he doesn't. At least, not anything more complicated than the shimmy it takes to get into his jeans.
"You dance." It's almost accusatory, and Zach falters.
Chris leads the way to the middle of the floor, his smile widening with every step they take. He stops soon enough and faces Zach, eyes electric blue. He drapes his free arm around Zach's neck, leans in so Zach can feel cock against his own thigh.
Zach's mouth goes dry. Chris licks his lips.
"This is inappropriate," Zach half-shouts, half laughs, but his voice quavers, nervous and unsure.
"It's fun," Chris answers, his grip on Zach's waist tight and confident.
Zach doesn't know what to say to that, but Chris pulls him closer, so close that Zach feels him breathe.
"Just dance."