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Hot For Me

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Angel liked to believe he had good control over his urges, or at least how much they affected him.

This wasn't high school anymore (And high school was a pretty bad time, considering all the rejections and the nights he was caught or nearly caught violently masturbating to even the briefest glimpse of tits or ass. Nobody wanted that again). Angel wasn't some pubescent teen with a firecracker in his pants ready to go off, not anymore. He was in a professional environment now, with people who took what they did seriously. Or at least most of them did. At the end of the day, sure, it was all good fun—but step on too many toes and you're public enemy number one.

Long story short, Angel couldn't go around popping boners just because someone swayed their hips in front of him. That's how you got kicked out of the club. No matter how 'provocative' the dance was, that kind of input was never needed (and was best saved for groupies). It seemed crazy to him how someone could be aroused that easily. He'd seen the up-and-comers when they stared too long at Aubrey, got the wrong idea when she was putting her all into a dance, thinking it was just for them. They only realized how much it wasn't for them and how it never would be when she sent them waddling off with their pride stepped on and broken to pieces.

That's why Bodie seemed like a shock to his system. He was nice, one of the nicest people Angel had ever met, really. He had the same passion as the rest of them for dancing, he even joined the DCI to keep dancing wholesome and fun. That's who he was; wholesome, fun, innocent. So it was a shock to hear what could come out of a mouth that looked so "innocent".

They weren't strangers for long. Like anyone with similar interests headed for the same thing, they got to know each other well. And Angel really got to know that Bodie didn't hold back. He didn't mince words when he wanted something, especially if he was serious about it. Before Aubrey and Emilia could even declare themselves rivals he was mentioning 'private dances' with Angel. A few times he'd even asked him out, and, seeing no reason to decline, Angel took him up on his offers.

Dance clubs, house parties, none of them really meant much until Angel found himself being led back to Bodie's place. Even in a tipsy, post-club haze, Angel was going to remember how Bodie fucked himself on his cock like he'd been waiting for it his whole life.

And he would remember it at the most inopportune times. Times that made him think all the effort he spent keeping himself in check was wasted, all because some blond gave him bedroom eyes from across the dance floor. Angel was used to getting looked at, and used to sending a few looks back himself, he was a flirt after all. But knowing what was really behind those looks for once had him nearly floored. He reasoned that the only way he'd managed to not get caught up in the feeling on the dance floor was to keep the fans at arm's-length. Screaming girls, hazy and excited and eyeing him in hopes of a chance, those were fun. Nothing serious.

It was a different thing entirely when he knew those eyes were saying "whip it out right now and I'm all over it". He tried all the techniques that had gotten him this far; thinking about rejection, imagining abuela, maybe what it would be like shoving his dick into a splintery hole (when it got bad). Eventually those thoughts could either kill the arousal or wane it down enough that no-one would be tweeting about how Angel had danced most of Alejandro at half-mast.

The worst part was confronting the blond about it, seeing as he could still play the innocent role after non-verbally getting Angel hard like it was no fault of his own. That, and he seemed to turn everything back on to Angel without even hesitating. Something along the lines of "It was a challenge. Aren't you always flaunting how good your hips are? I wanted to test it out." or, "Am I acting out? Maybe you should take care of me, papi." And fuck, did 'papi' kill him. Tons of girls tried that, most of them not speaking a lick of Spanish outside of grade school, but none of them said it like that.

'Papi' for Bodie was more of a challenge. It was less of a nickname and more a 'fuck me harder', an invitation to get head in the bathroom at the back of the club even though the owner would definitely ban them for life if they got caught again and Rasa would have them on cleaning duty for a month. A 'ruin me', a 'make me never say it again' and then 'make me beg for it'. He didn't know how Bodie could say so much in one word, but Angel figured it was just the same as all those glances he'd send his way. Bodie was certainly not someone to be reckoned with.

That's why all that control was out the window. Right now Angel only cared about taking the blond up on his challenge. Who gave a fuck if the owner caught them again? Cleaning duty for a month? The punishment was worth it for one more moment with the bass of the song trembling the bathroom stalls so hard Angel could only barely hear himself think. With something like a triumphant laugh coming from Bodie even as he was pinned to the wall. With his mouth everywhere and his hands anywhere. The total opposite of the dancefloor, with next-to-nothing between them.

Only now, in a rushed attempt to get his belt off in a poorly lit club bathroom, did Angel realize he never really had any control of his urges.