Disclaimer: WEP owns Voltron. The song is by Bryan Adams.
One Night Love Affair
Lights flare, brilliant reds and blues and greens. At first, all that can be seen are the strobe-like flashes. As glitter fills the air, sending the light refracting in every direction, the view pulls back. Bathed in the glow of the lights, the color changing from moment to moment, bodies move, grinding against each other, swaying to the beat of the music thumping through their veins, echoing through the club. The sequins catch in their hair, unnoticed. Toned muscles flex, drawing partners closer into the dance, some shirtless in the warmth, or in the hope of attracting another. In the shadows, far from the dance floor, men make quiet, nearly desperate deals with beautiful younger men, whose only claim to adulthood is the experience in their eyes. One such is a young man in his early twenties; his eyes are drawn to a small white packet discretely displayed by another who is several years older. The young man palms the packet and leads the one who showed it to the door. Worked none-too-subtly into the décor- engraved into the glasses and tables- is the design of two stylized and interlaced symbols of the planet Mars, a circle with an arrow.
In the crush of firm young men dancing and looking for action is one who looks like he's not a day over 17. His brown hair is spangled with gilt, and in the play of the lights, it's first bronze, then almost black, while his eyes gleam alternately violet then deep blue. Lance is not oblivious by any means to the appreciative glances he's receiving from his fellow dancers, but he affects disinterest, and adopts a waiting air.
The lights stop, and flash up, turning white, as the dance tune stops. For a moment, there is, not silence, but that peculiar sound that passes for silence in the middle of a crowd. Lance stills with the music, and surveys the edges of the dance floor. He's not looking for anyone in particular; he's just waiting for someone to catch his eye.
Someone does. The man is tall, with wide shoulders, slightly hunched as if embarrassed. His broad-featured face, too, betrays his discomfort with his surroundings. His hands are shoved in his pants pockets, and he's leaning up against the wall, 'don't touch me' in every line of his posture. His head is bent, and his dark hair falls into his face, hiding him further.
The music starts up again, a song driven by guitars and drums, but not really a dance song. Slowly, Lance pushes his way off the dance floor, to the man who has captured his attention. The big man looks up suddenly, realizing that there's someone standing in front of him. Lance smiles at him, an easy-going expression that belies the intent in his blue eyes, and takes him by one large hand.
Quickly, Lance pulls the big man onto the dance floor after him. At first, Hunk is reluctant, glancing around self-consciously. Once they are in the middle of the crush of bodies, though, he relaxes slightly, and begins to move with Lance to the beat. He is surprisingly graceful despite his heavy build.
Lance's eyes are locked on his chosen partner's blunt features, studying him, staring into the deep brown eyes.
Hunk smiles faintly down at Lance, and his tongue flickers out to wet his lips. His blush almost unseen in the harsh flashing lights, Lance moves closer at the silent invitation, pressing himself against the other's body, running his fingers over the muscled arms and hard chest. Exploring, losing himself in the heat of the body in front of him, the heat of the moment.
Standing on tiptoe, Lance stretches up to whisper something in Hunk's ear, grinding their pelvises together as he does. Hunk pulls back, blinking down at Lance in surprise, then nods. Taking him by the hand again, Lance leads him from the crowd, from the club.
The room is dark, the figures on the bed barely visible. Overlaying the black, a shot fades in, of Lance struggling out of his shirt while kissing Hunk deeply. In a blink, the overlay shot has dissolved away to just a white after-image. Then it is replaced by another view, of Hunk nude, lying on his back, his hands knotted in Lance's hair to pull him down for another fierce kiss. His eyes, half lidded with arousal, fall closed as Lance's lips devour his own. This, too, fades into the darkness. The final shot is of Lance, his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide as he reaches his climax. Lance's fingers are dug into Hunk's shoulders, as Hunk shudders, head bent, his black hair falling into his face again. The image lingers for a moment, then melts away.
Dawn starts to peek into the bedroom, filtering through the blinds covering the windows. The room appears to be a dorm room; it has that generic look and feel, despite the boxes just visible. Clothes are strewn over the floor and furniture, shapeless humps in the dim light. Hunk climbs carefully out of the bed, leaving Lance sprawled ungracefully. Silently, he dresses and leaves, closing the door behind him.
Hours later, the daylight is strong enough to make Lance groan and roll over, one arm over his eyes. He wakes slowly, obviously trying to connect 'now' to his memories of 'last night'. When he finally does, he sits upright and glances around, somewhat surprised to find himself alone. He swings his legs out of bed and scrubs his face with his hands, yawning.
Something glitters on the floor, drawing his attention. When he picks it up, it is a small silver toned disk, minted with two interlocked symbols- a token from the club. Lance sets the token on his desk and grabs his towel from where it is draped over the back of his desk chair.
The scene changes to a classroom. Lance is now dressed in a cadet uniform, seated at one of the many desks. He leans on one hand, eyes half closed, blinking sleepily. When the professor calls his name, he responds around a yawn. The professor glares at him over his glasses, and Lance smiles. Shaking his head, the professor continues with roll call. The next student to respond causes Lance to start in his seat and twist around, astonishment written on his features.
Hunk is seated in the back of the classroom. Lance grins widely at him, then turns to face front again before the professor can take him to task.
He doesn't notice Hunk smiling faintly at the dark haired boy seated next to him. The boy cocks his head and smiles back when he notices Hunk's attention. His gray eyes twinkle merrily as he meets Hunk's gaze.
The scene breaks to Lance's room again. It seems to be later in the term; his desk is stacked with books, and papers spill haphazardly to the floor. Lance is lying on his bed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other holding the token from the club. He studies the token intently, mentally replaying the events of that evening. Then, with the air of having finally made a very difficult decision, he jumps to his feet and dash from the room.
In the dusky light outside the dorm, he almost runs into Hunk, and smiles up at him winningly. He draws the big man a few steps away from the entryway, but not quite into the shadow of the neighboring tree. Then he reaches up to throw his arms around Hunk's neck and kisses his startled face.
As gently as possible, Hunk tries to pry Lance's arms from around his neck. When he's managed to do so, he lifts Lance away from him and sets him down an arm's length away. One eyebrow raised, he silently demands an explanation. Lance gives it readily. But as Hunk listens, a peculiar expression comes over his face, sad and hard at the same time. When Lance has finished, he attempts to renew the kiss, but Hunk fends him off, shaking his head. Lance's face reflects his confusion, and slowly, he draws back.
Just then, Sven steps out of the foyer into the twilight. He finds Hunk almost immediately, and his gray eyes widen when he sees Lance. Lance looks from one to the other, and his face falls as at last he notices the way Hunk lights up when he sees Sven.
With one final apologetic shake of his head, Hunk leaves Lance and strides eagerly to Sven. Sven takes Hunk's hand and leads him into the dorm, glancing curiously back over his shoulder just once.
The door swings shut behind Hunk and Sven. Lance just stands, staring at the door. Slowly, he slumps to the ground, his face a mask of misery. From the lax fingers of one hand, the club token falls, glinting briefly, then vanishing from view as dusk deepens into night.
***
July 30, 2002
© randi (K. Shepard), 2002.