“That’s okay, just follow my lead,” Ryan whispered into Angel’s ear. His big hand curved around Angel's hip, purposeful, but not controlling. Ryan began swaying to the beat, keeping Angel against him. It had been years since Angel had danced like this, in some sticky club with his guy friends, unconcerned and carefree, but he found it surprisingly easy to slip back into the groove of it. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against Ryan’s broad shoulder. He didn’t notice Travis and Mike moving closer until somebody's hand was inserting itself into his pocket, and Angel's eyes flew open to the sight of Travis up against him, a blissed out grin on his face. His hand was sweat-sticky and hot when it landed on Angel's neck, forcibly tugging him close.
“Take the soldier back to my place,” Travis slurred into his ear. Despite himself, Angel felt his mouth go dry and his arousal spike in his gut at the thought, however foolish, of getting laid. He swallowed, but before he could summon a response Travis was already pulling away, winking as he maneuvered out of the crowd with his hand in Mike's. Angel turned in the circle of Ryan's arm. If it hadn't been for the alcohol, he would never have had the confidence to flatten his palms against Ryan's chest, but the shift of Ryan's muscles as he gasped gave Angel confidence, and he tipped his head back, smiling. Ryan's answering smile was a little uncertain, but Angel knew he wasn't imagining the shiver that skipped down Ryan's spine when Angel brushed his mouth against his jaw, and then his earlobe.
“Come on,” Angel yelled, tugging on Ryan’s hand. Evidently, whatever insanity spiral he was descending into, Ryan was falling into it with him, because he let himself be pulled along without protest.
They stumbled out of the club and into a waiting taxi. In the car, Ryan's hesitance seemed to lessen— either because they were shielded now from prying eyes or because he felt more certain of himself, Angel couldn't say— but with every passing mile, Angel's heart was beating faster. He hadn't misread this, then. He felt like a teenager, the way he hadn't in years. Beside him, Ryan's hand found its way carefully to Angel's thigh, and Angel had to shift to hide his stiffening dick. When they arrived outside Travis’ apartment, Angel moved to get his wallet out of his pants, but Ryan put a hand on his arm.
“I’ve got it,” Ryan said.
“You already bought me a beer.”
“And you gave me a huge discount on a painting that my mom is going to love,” Ryan grinned, and Angel was terrified to feel the exact same dopey grin pulling at his lips. Shit. He didn't know what this was, and he didn't know how to deal with it. Maybe it was for the best that the thinking part of his brain seemed to have shut down for the night.
As if in a dream, Angel led Ryan upstairs, occasionally glancing behind himself as if to check that the other man was still there. The door handle slipped in Angel's fingers as he fumbled it open and pushed inside. When they were both safely inside the apartment, though, and Angel caught sight of the uncertain look once again hovering on Ryan's face, it was as if a new impulse of determination took hold of Angel. It was the work of moments to take Ryan by the shoulders and push him back against the closed door; a stretch up on his tiptoes was enough to catch Ryan's mouth, pressing their lips together. Ryan was broad, his arms muscled, and even though Angel was certainly not a small man, he felt small like this, nestled against Ryan's solid warmth. It was so different from what he'd grown used to with Alicia, and yet still his body buzzed with the knowledge that he was the one in control here, even if Ryan could change that if he wanted to.
Ryan gripped at his hips, but this time it felt like a plea instead of a command. Angel smiled into the kiss and traced his fingers along the hem of Ryan's shirt. The groan this drew out of Ryan's throat swiftly turned Angel's smile into an irresistible massive smirk, full of pride and disbelief. Spurred on by the sense of success, he dropped his mouth into the hollow of Ryan's throat. He wanted, with a fierce and sudden single-mindedness, to leave marks there, leave his mark on Ryan, but Ryan seemed to sense this, one hand coming up to brace against Angel's shoulder, holding him back.
“I won’t be able to explain them,” Ryan whispered, almost sadly. “I’m not a very good liar.”
That was disappointing, but Angel was too far invested in this now to let the twinge of rejection put him off. If anything, it only made him redouble his efforts, wanting to realize this thing under his hands before it could slip away. He tugged on Ryan's shirt, whipping it over his head in one motion. The jeans received much the same treatment a moment later as Angel unbuttoned them roughly, wrenching the zipper down and then shoving them down over Ryan's muscled thighs. Bare now, Angel could feel the heat coming off Ryan in waves, and he couldn't bite back a moan as he leaned in to mouth at Ryan's sculpted chest.