Repression Aftermath

Cat and Michael had skipped the queue outside with little more than a hand lifted in greeting to the bouncer. There were perks to knowing the owner, and the three-headed runespoor stamp on his hand had come without even dragging out I.D. They'd passed through the main club, Cat getting stopped now and then, introducing Michael sans surname, but it was the VIP he wanted. The cure for long-term repression wasn't have fun, but don't talk about magic.

Cat's body swayed unconsciously with the music as they walked, hips loose, an easy grin on his lips for anyone who caught his eye. He was taken, not dead. A hand slid against a girl's waist as he passed, and she turned to throw her arms around him in a hug. Not tonight, honey, he said, I'm on a mission. She laughed and turned back to her friends. Then Cat turned to Michael.

"Come on," he said, grinning. He lifted a hand and crooked his finger in invitation. "Dance with me."

Yes, Michael had been watching Cat. He'd seen those hips move and the easy way the man held himself. So maybe the lecture had made him more tense than he'd thought, and maybe Dare's regular treatments of one kind of tension could lead to another had trained him well. "If you insist," he said. He swallowed hard, licked his lips in an old nervous gesture, then joined Cat to dance.

Cat was almost surprised the guy hadn't backed off, though he could feel Michael's nerves. He could also feel the attraction, and it made him wonder. The guy had to be wild behind closed doors. Cat had heard about Dare, heard they were kinky as hell, and yet here he was about to pop and still holding onto propriety enough to count.

"Come on, let it go," he said, and moved close enough for their bodies to touch. What if he wrapped his hand around the back of Michael's waist? What if they moved their hips together?

It was surreal, looking up the same distance and not seeing familiar mossy eyes. But it was a bit of a thrill, too, and the contact was instantly like getting away with something. Flirting with danger, like he did when out with Skylar, but a completely different kind of danger. It sent a shock through his system, to put it lightly. "Oh, you don't want me to let go," he said, just loud enough to hear, as one arm looped around Cat's shoulders with more confidence than he would admit to. "You don't know what you'd be asking for."

Cat arched an eyebrow, and his lips curved. He liked a challenge. He also liked Evelyn, and not getting hexed in the balls by jealous husbands. There was a hell of a lot of letting go you could do without crossing that line, though. Cat leaned close. "Let go anyway."

Had it been Dare, Michael would have taken a kiss just then, but this wasn't Dare, and he didn't quite know what to do with that feeling of wanting and being unable to have. Part of him liked it, though. A rather large part, if he was honest with himself. He'd nearly forgotten the Q&A session of his lecture by now. "I'll do my best," he teased as his other hand slid against Cat's hip. No, he couldn't let go entirely with this man, but he could get close.

Michael was still holding back, and Cat wondered if the guy even realized it. He was dancing, and he was a good dancer, but his eyes said he was somewhere else. The obvious answer would be with his husband, but that wasn't the feeling Cat got. This felt like bravado.

Hell if Cat was going to spend the rest of the night playing therapist. He decided to let it go, and closed his eyes to shut out everything he didn't want to deal with. There was no need for thought with a beat this fierce, with the freedom to move, and a willing body pressed against him.

Michael took the opportunity to examine Cat. As much as his body wanted to let go entirely, his mind couldn't, and there was an interesting new face inches from his own. He wanted to touch and, well, taste, but yes, he held back. Dare was going to get an experience when he got home. It was a surprise when he realized his fingers were touching skin instead of cloth, to feel muscles moving without that barrier, and then he pulled away, stopping the dance with a quick intake of breath. No. He couldn't do this.

Cat's eyes opened. "Are you okay?" He'd stopped dancing too, fully aware of the physical charge that had started, how close to the line they'd been, and how suddenly it had all ended. Cat's body was revved up. "It's just a dance," he said, but it didn't look like it. It looked like the badass ex-Death Eater's bravado had fallen.

It always surprised him a little when his mood changed so quickly. Yes, his blood was hot and racing. Yes, he wanted to dance. Yes, he wanted more. And that was the problem. Michael shook his head. "I can't," he said, then turned away to leave. He couldn't want more around a stranger who couldn't provide any release. With Dare, it ended in bed, and with Skylar it ended with some arse tied up and sent to the Ministry. Neither option was okay with a stranger.