The wine didn't hold any special appeal to Kavinsky. It was a drink his mother liked, that he'd snuck at holidays before the substance parties became a hit, to get drunk with his friends, before he got in the habits of heavy liquor. The tannin tastes of it always tended to linger too long for his tastes; and sweet wines tended to get a raised eyebrow and too much teasing, being a teenage boy in a repressed small town.
But Lee's tracking look and darting tongue, the half gifted promise of tequila--and a bed, at least for a little while, if not the whole night--dripped down Kavinsky's spine. He turned his cocktail between his fingers for a second, then knocked it back with a couple of heady swallows.
"Dance with me first." There was a note of a question in his voice, an imploring sort of pitch. The music wasn't the kind that Kavinsky danced to, the sort where everything was visceral and close and filthy. But the prospect of closeness before he let Lee take him home had a certain appeal. It wouldn't be the first time an older man treated him kindly in public before putting him face down into bed, after all.
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Date: 2016-01-31 08:48 pm (UTC)From:But Lee's tracking look and darting tongue, the half gifted promise of tequila--and a bed, at least for a little while, if not the whole night--dripped down Kavinsky's spine. He turned his cocktail between his fingers for a second, then knocked it back with a couple of heady swallows.
"Dance with me first." There was a note of a question in his voice, an imploring sort of pitch. The music wasn't the kind that Kavinsky danced to, the sort where everything was visceral and close and filthy. But the prospect of closeness before he let Lee take him home had a certain appeal. It wouldn't be the first time an older man treated him kindly in public before putting him face down into bed, after all.