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'No fuckin' way.'
Danny blushes, a grin fluttering across his face. ‘Yeah, man. I mean… I thought about it for a while. Practiced my dance moves, got a routine all worked out…’
'I can't believe you were a male stripper.'
Dan barks out a laugh. ‘No! I mean, I went along to the club and everything. But in the end, I was too chickenshit to apply.’
'It would have been a cool story though.' Arin counters.
'Oh, for sure. I don't even know if they would have accepted me.' He shrugs, taking a sip of his energy drink only to find it empty. 'I'm a skinny little bastard, no muscles or anything.'
'Some guys are into that' Arin says, his voice a little distant. Dan looks up, finds Arin scanning over him with his eyes.
He swallows, his gaze dropping back to the empty can. ‘Guys like you?’
'I mean,' Arin flops down next to him on the couch, his tone light, just a hint of meaning behind it. 'I'm curious, I guess.'
Dan raises his eyebrow. ‘Yeah?’ Arin returns his gaze, steady and a little challenging.
'I wanna see what moves you picked up.'
Dan laughs, embarrassed because the mood has shifted noticeably. That heavy, dangerous feeling is back, pervading the air around them. Every now and then, Danny gets just a hint of sexual tension; when a joke goes too far, when they’ve been up too late and the touches linger a little too long. This, he reasons, is different. It’s the same thing he told himself when he thought about stripping (because, contrary to his original expectations, the majority of the time he would not be stripping for women) It’s a fantasy; it’s not real.
So, with a sudden rush of courage, he gets up, sets his drink on the coffee table, and prepares himself.
When he turns to face Arin, it’s a very different Danny that greets him. His hip is cocked a little deeper than usual, his shoulders squared in a way that bares his chest to the man on the couch. And Arin has never seen this expression of Dan’s face before; eyes half-lidded and lips parted just slightly, the tiniest smirk just turning up the corner of his mouth. The smirk gets a little wider at Arin’s audible swallow.
‘Sit with your knees apart.’ Dan purrs, bending down to physically manipulate Arin’s knees into a V shape. ‘And hands by your sides.’ Arin is too struck dumb by this surprising turn of events, and so willingly places his hands parallel to his thighs on the couch. Dan’s eyes drift shut, and as he takes a deep breath in, he starts to sway to music that only he can hear. His hips turn little figure eights, and he rises up onto his toes to allow him larger movements.
His eyes are still shut as his hands trail from his stomach up his chest, skating across his shoulders before returning to his waist. He tugs at the hem of his shirt. His eyes flicker open, suddenly panicking that he’s gone too far, that he’s misread Arin’s friendliness for sexual tension and he’s about to be awkwardly asked to leave. But Arin’s eyes are right where his hands are, bright and intense. It sends a sudden rush of heat to Dan’s groin, to see how affected Arin is before he’s even taken his shirt off. So he enjoys himself, languidly stretching out his fingers to ruck up the material of his t-shirt, revealing his skin at a teasingly slow pace. Arin’s eyes drag over every new inch of skin that’s uncovered. It’s exhilarating.
By the time he finally lifts his shirt over his head, Arin is practically salivating. Danny can’t help but amp it up a little, and when his hands reach for his own zipper, he tips his head back and moans. He’s very gratified to hear the tiniest whimper from Arin, who has not yet moved from the position Dan ordered him into. He drags down his zipper and deposits his jeans on the floor, shimmying his waist on the way down. Then, he throws his weight at Arin, swooping down as if he’s falling onto him, then catching himself with his hands on the back of the couch, rolling his chest up in front of Arin’s face. It’s probably a much more impressive move with breasts, but Dan’s got to work with what he was given. Arin certainly doesn’t seem to mind.
Growing bold, Danny climbs onto Arin’s lap, straddling his thigh. Bracing himself against Arin’s knees, he leans back and gyrates his hips, before finally settling himself down so he’s sitting with his semi-erect dick resting on Arin’s leg, covered by the thin cotton of his underwear. Arin seems to snap out of his reverie here, and his hands fly to Dan’s ass, roughly grabbing at the flesh of his thighs.
‘You’re good at this.’ he remarks, his voice low, a little hoarse. Fuck, it’s such a turn-on. Danny’s not even thinking now as he grinds into Arin’s thigh. ‘Did you do this with Brian? For practice?’
‘Fuck off, man. Don’t make it weird.’ Dan pauses to give Arin a warning stare. ‘Besides, I didn’t even know Brian then. This was years ago.’
‘Ok, fine.’ Arin concedes, ‘Not with Brian. Did you go out to bars, then? Pick up strange men and take them home so you could tease them like this?’ All bets are off, apparently; this has devolved quickly into something far more intense than Dan ever intended. But the way Arin is talking… none of what he’s saying is true, but Dan can see it all; himself, younger and even skinnier than he is now, sitting in the laps of faceless men. The stripping career he considered only briefly now seems to be playing out in front of him, becoming more and more vivid as Arin’s words get filthier. ‘Did you let them fuck you, right here on their laps? Did you even take off your underwear, or just pull them to the side? Did you let them use you? Call you a filthy whore and leave their cum on your face to say thank you?’
Dan is fully hard now; grinding mindlessly onto Arin, bracing himself against the back of the couch for more leverage. Arin’s hands grip at his hips suddenly, slowing his movement.
‘Take them off.’ he demands, nodding at the damp fabric of Dan’s briefs.
‘Are you keeping your clothes on, then?’ Danny asks.
‘That’s how you like it, isn’t it? So you can feel like a proper whore? Get your fucking dick out.’
Danny gives himself a second to breathe, then raises himself up on his knees so he can hook his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and slowly pull it down, finally resting it underneath his balls. Arin reaches out and gives Dan’s dick a firm stroke. A pearl of precum dribbles down the shaft and pools at the skin between Arin’s thumb and forefinger. Danny lets out a groan, deep in his throat, as Arin lifts his hand and loudly sucks it off.
He starts up again, rocking against Arin’s thigh, and laying his hand palm-down over his dick so he can fuck through the tight channel between Arin’s leg and his own hand. Arin eventually bats his hand away, taking over by wrapping his fist around Dan’s cock and firmly jerking him off. Dan keeps up the rhythm, still rocking his hips against Arin’s thigh.
‘God, Arin… I need…’ slips out of Danny’s mouth. He doesn’t mean to say it, but Arin latches onto it immediately.
‘What? What do you want me to do?’
Danny lets out his breath in a huff. Fuck it, it’s not like it’s going to make tonight any weirder. ‘I need something. Slap me, pull my hair or something. Put your hand around my neck.’
‘Fuck, dude, seriously?’ Dan can’t reply, and so nods vehemently.
‘Just to, get me there.’ he pants. Arin’s hand immediately tangles in his hair, wrenching his head back, and the wrecked whimpers coming out of Danny’s mouth have to fight to make their way through his throat. He seems to change his mind, and Dan suddenly has Arin’s hand tight around his neck, fingers digging into his jaw. It doesn’t take him too long after that, and a few seconds later Dan’s climax is wetting the front of Arin’s tshirt. He flops forward, boneless, and feels the warm spunk on his abdomen where he’s pressed against Arin’s front. He stays there for a moment, catching his breath, before Arin’s hips begin to buck slightly. Oh, yeah.
‘Let me cum on your face.’ Arin mumbles into Danny’s hair. Dan sleepily shakes his head.
‘My chest, if you want.’
‘Fine.’ Dan slithers off Arin’s lap, onto the floor, kneeling between his legs. Arin fishes his dick out of his pyjama pants (Danny can’t help but feel some pride at the sizeable wet patch at the crotch) and starts to jerk himself.
‘Open your mouth.’ Arin orders, aiming his dick right at Danny’s face.
‘I said no, man.’
‘I know, I’m not gonna- just to get me there.’ Arin amends, smug. Dan rolls his eyes, but lets his lips part and sticks out his tongue.
‘Fuck,’ Arin says, with gravity. It doesn’t take Arin too long either, just a few vigorous jerks and he’s changing course, lifting himself off the couch so he can angle his release towards Danny’s chest. Dan hears his breath stutter as the warm spurts land on his skin, before Arin flops back onto the couch and his breath starts to deepen.
Somewhat revived, Danny reaches for his discarded tshirt and begins to wipe himself off. Arin raises his head lazily, apparently tuckered out after their little adventure.
‘That’s a neat trick,’ he remarks. ‘You gotta show that to Suzy sometime.’