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Dancing at Citadel

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players only. takes place a while after Christos meets Alfonso's mother and brother.

It's been a long time since Christos last went clubbing. He's looking forward to dancing with his lover without fear of censure. Sure, they could probably safely hit up a gay club in the States or Vancouver, but not here. Not in Mexico City -- Alfonso is much too recognizable. "When's the last time you did this?" he asks his lover now, sitting with him in the back of a Citadel car.

"Go dancing?" Alfonso asks, taking another look at his lover, who is dressed in leather trousers and a tight white tank that fits him so perfectly it makes Alfonso ache.

"Yeah. At a gay club," Christos clarifies, squeezing his lover's hand. "Have you done this since you were a teenager?"

"I've never gone dancing at a gay club," Alfonso says, after thinking a moment. "I couldn't risk it here and I've been too busy with work otherwise."

Christos grins. "This should be fun then. Did you ever watch Queer as Folk?" he teases. "It's a lot like that, only more so since it's Citadel."

"I've heard of it, but I've never seen it," Alfonso says, the show having been mentioned in numerous articles alongside Sense8. "Do people actually dance or does it become orgies on the floor?"

"Usually it's dancing, and the orgies are in other rooms. But with Citadel, who knows?" Christos squeezes his lover's hand again. "We can just dance."

Alfonso nods, squeezing back, grateful Christos understands him, that he doesn't have to spell things out. "Bueno. I'd like that," he says with a smile.

"Of course, I can't imagine you won't attract a lot of attention simply for being as gorgeous as you are," Christos murmurs, and kisses a corner of that smile.

And for being who I am, Alfonso thinks, a little nervous about attending Citadel in his home country. But the kiss makes him smile and he refocuses on his lover, turning his head to brush his lips across Christos's. "Given how good you look in those leather pants, I suspect you'll be the one drawing the attention."

"You think so? Good. Feel free to jump me anytime," Christos tells him with a chuckle as the car slows. "But only if you just can't help yourself."

"We'll never get to dance if I do that," Alfonso teases, leaning in for another kiss, aware they're pulling through the gates and onto Citadel grounds.

Christos cups his nape and lengthens the kiss, tasting his lover. Reconnecting with him before they head into the noisy blur of a crowd.

Moaning softly into Christos's mouth, Alfonso suddenly wishes they could just stay right here, in their little cocoon. But he knows he'll have fun once they're in there and he needs to do this, fight his introverted urge to hide away apart from work.

The car eases to a stop and Christos reluctantly breaks the kiss. "Come, my love. Let's go show them how it's done."

"Why are you so convinced I'm a good dancer?" Alfonso teases, slipping out of the car behind Christos.

"Didn't you have to dance when you were a teen idol?" Christos asks.

"Yes, but that was so long ago," Alfonso says with a grin, taking Christos's hand. "I might be very rusty."

"We'll see." Christos grins and nods thanks at the young man who opens the door for them. In the hushed reception area he lays his hand on the biometric scanner, pleased that Mexico City is one of the Citadel sites to pilot the new identification program. Because he couldn't fit his wallet into these trousers.

Alfonso scans his palm in turn, the guard on duty giving him a nod as the light turns green. "Are we staying here tonight?" he asks, wondering why he hadn't thought to ask before.

"We have a room," Christos confirms, "but we can leave anytime you want to." An attractive man in a suit pulls open another door for them to reveal Citadel proper, and he takes Alfonso's hand again as they step inside.

"I'm always amazed how different the clubs are from each other," Alfonso says quietly, keeping a tight hold on Christos's hand. "They all have the same things for the most part but the styles are so different."

"Yes. This is... wow." Bright neon lights in a rainbow of colors assail their eyes. The bar itself is lit from behind and beneath, giving it an otherworldly feel, and the dance floor is the same. The floor is packed. Christos gives Alfonso a shrug and a smile, dissolving into laughter. Jesus. "Do you want a drink?" He feels like he's yelling.

Alfonso nods, not letting go of Christos's hand for a second. "A Paloma," he says, repeating it a second time, the words getting lost in the noise of the room.

"Got it," Christos tells him with a nod, and cleaves a path for them through the crowd to the bar. "A Paloma, and a draft beer," he tells the scantily-clad young man behind the bar. Making room for them, Christos turns and puts his back to the bar, surveying the scene.

Someone pokes Alfonso on the shoulder and he turns to find a man grinning at him over his drink. "Ay, Poncho! No sabia que eras miembro."

Christos raises an eyebrow at the overly familiar gesture, but retains judgment for the moment. Until he learns whether the guy is a friend... or a hassle.

"Lo estoy, pero no lo uso mucho," Alfonso explains with a small smile, leaning into Christos.

The guy's grin widens. "Estas con alguien?"

"Si," Alfonso replies, a little confused, wondering if the guy is being willfully blind or just stupidly hopeful. "Mi novio," he adds, holding up their joined hands.

The conversation floats over Christos's head, but he understands well when Alfonso holds up their joined hands... and he can't help but smirk. "Hola," he says, inserting himself firmly into the conversation. "Mucho gusto."

"Lo siento. Es un placer conocerte también. ¿Ambos juegan con los demás?" The guy asks, without even missing a beat.

"He wants to know if we play with others," Alfonso translates for Christos.

Do we? Christos wonders, even as he shakes his head. He's pretty sure the last time they discussed this, his answer was a firm 'no' on sharing Alfonso. "We're not negotiating tonight," he says, slipping his arm around his lover's shoulders. "You know, date night."

The arm around Alfonso's shoulder should be clear enough but the guy still looks to Alfonso for a translation. "No," Alfonso tells him. "Al menos no esta noche. Es noche de cita."

The guy nods. "Tal vez en otro momento."

Alfonso nods politely. "Tal vez," he agrees, breathing a sigh of relief when the guy disappears into the crowd.

Christos watches him leave. Then he hauls Alfonso in for a kiss which should settle any lingering curiosity. "You didn't introduce me," he points out, playing his fingers through his lover's hair. "That means he's not a friend?"

"I've never seen him before in my life," Alfonso says, shaking his head, staring up at Christos, his whole focus on his lover.

"I see." Christos snorts a soft laugh and lets go of his lover to hand him his drink. "That didn't take long at all," he says, and knocks back a swallow of beer.

"What? Us getting hit on?" Alfonso asks, taking a drink.

"You getting hit on, love," Christos clarifies with a smug grin. "I don't think he even saw me."

Alfonso ducks his head a little at that. "It freaks me out a bit," he confesses, having to yell to be heard. "I know all about Citadel's security but I have to keep reminding myself that nothing will leave here. In the States I don't worry so much, but here, everyone knows me." As evidenced by the many men - and women - staring their way.

"Would you feel more comfortable if we leave now?" Christos asks, setting his beer back on the bar. "We could go upstairs or go home."

"No," Alfonso shakes his head although he's grateful for the offer. "I promised you dancing," he adds with a smile, leaning in to press a kiss to Christos's lips.

Christos catches him and deepens the kiss, then links their fingers together. "So let's go," he says, leading Alfonso through the crowd onto the dance floor. The bass line is throbbing and it's easy to get into the song. It almost feels like home to Christos.

Christos is a good dancer and Alfonso's impressed. He follows his lover's lead, moving with him, staying close to ward off others who might try and dance with him.

Sliding his hands over Alfonso's hips, Christos moves to the beat. Around them couples and small groups are making out and more, but he keeps his touch non-sexual, wanting to stick with his lover's comfort level. And in truth, enjoying simply letting loose and dancing with him.

"You're really good," Alfonso yells over the music.

Christos grins at him. A stranger begins to grind against his hip in invitation, and Christos gives the guy a withering look over his shoulder before returning all his attention to his lover.

Alfonso grins at the aborted pass. "See? It's not only me," he points out.

Christos laughs. "The two of us, we're just too sexy," he teases, pulling his lover a little closer and guiding his hips.

Alfonso laughs too, following his lover's lead, the tension of the last few days - stress over Dead Poets - bleeding away as they dance.

They dance until they work up a sweat, the crowd pressing in on them, and it's true they have to fend off several more invitations of company. Eventually, though, Christos takes Alfonso's hand and tugs him back to the bar. While they wait on a second round of drinks, he moves in and licks up a bead of sweat from his lover's throat.

A soft sound spills from the back of Alfonso's throat but it's swallowed up by the noise around them. Still, he slides his hand into Christos's dark hair, urging him to more.

God, that encouragement twists lust up inside Christos, tying him in knots. He licks again, a broad swipe with his tongue, then nibbles at the column of Alfonso's throat, hands slipping over his hips.

Alfonso presses close, grinding against Christos's hip, moaning at the touch of his teeth, cock jerking inside his jeans.

Fuck. Christos wants to push Alfonso back against the bar and get a handful of his cock, to jack him off in front of everyone. Warning flares through him. "Time to go," he growls, and takes his lover's hand, leading him out of the club to the lifts.

Alfonso almost points out that he's okay with playing in public, as long as they don't edge too much into power play, but he doesn't. He's not sure he would want to play here in the open, in front of all those prying eyes. "You don't mind?" he asks instead, when they're in the elevator.

"Do I mind that I'm getting you all to myself?" Christos asks, ignoring the other couple in the lift. "Not at all." He pulls his lover into his arms for a smoldering kiss.

Alfonso groans against Christos's mouth, his knees going weak. Ay Dios!

Christos can feel Alfonso start to melt against him, and god it turns him on. He backs his lover against the wall and hikes his thighs up around his waist, need surging through his body.

Biting back whimpers, a part of his mind still aware of their audience, Alfonso shoves his hands into Christos's hair, keeping him close, their tongues tangling, so achingly hard already it hurts.

"I want you," Christos whispers, like it wasn't already obvious with the way his cock is spike-hard and pressing against Alfonso's. "Come." The doors slide open and Christos likewise slides his lover down his body, then tugs him out into the hallway.

Alfonso lets Christos lead them to their room, his head already fuzzy with arousal and his body aching to be filled.

When the door swings open Christos gives the room only a cursory glance. It has walls, a bed, a bathroom... they're set for the night. He pulls his lover into the room and presses him back against the door, pulling Alfonso's shirt off over his head.

Alfonso helps as much as he can, his fingers surprisingly clumsy, but his jeans are easier and he unzips and shoves them down over hips, kicking them free of his feet.

This is Citadel, and so lube is close at hand -- Christos slicks two fingers and pushes them inside his lover's ass, angling to hit that sweet spot. Hungrily devouring Alfonso's throat and jaw.

Cursing under his breath, Alfonso clutches at Christos's shoulders, only his lover and the door at his back keeping him upright.

Christos is single-minded in his onslaught, fucking his lover with his fingers and swiftly opening him up. He backs off just enough to unzip his own skin-tight trousers and shove them down, quickly unrolling a condom into place. He turns Alfonso to face the door, spreads his ass and pushes home with a loud groan.

Alfonso cries out, Christos's fingers no match for his cock, his muscles forced to stretch, take, accept what he's being given. He braces his hands against the door, widening his stance, the pain sliding into a slow burn of pleasure, his own cock rock hard through it all.

Fuck it's good, impossibly tight and searingly hot. Christos sets his stance and slowly pulls out, then pushes back inside, working his way a little deeper with each thrust.

"Ay dios," Alfonso breathes, pressing his head to the cool wood of the door, his cock wet at its tip. "Fuck me," he whispers. "Por favor."

That "por favor" just melts Christos; as if he could refuse. He cups Alfonso's lean hips and slowly withdraws, silently cursing the drag of rubber on skin. Then all but forgets it in the next second, thrusting deep and pushing his lover up onto his toes.

Alfonso whimpers with the thrust, pressing back, trying to hold himself in place for more.

Christos is still learning his lover's body, but he's pretty sure of this-- this smooth thrust in, slow drag out. Fingernails digging into Alfonso's smooth flesh.

Cries fill the air, Alfonso not even trying to hold back as Christos fucks him, his cock weeping continuously. "Si, si, mas duro..."

Harder. Fuck, yes. Christos bends his knees and drives home, rocking his lover against the door. Again and again, pleasure knotting tight at the base of his spine.

Cursing in Spanish, Alfonso slams back against Christos, meeting every thrust, so close he can taste it. "Por favor..." he begs.

Carefully Christos reaches and closes his fingers around his lover's cock. Starting to jerk him off in double-time, still thrusting slow and deep.

"Oh god, I'm going to come," Alfonso warns, struggling to hold on as long as he can.

"Do it," Christos growls, and nips sharply at Alfonso's nape.

Alfonso comes with a wail, come spattering Christos's fingers and the door in front of him, his body clamping down tight around Christos's cock.

Christos stops where he is, his muscles straining against the tight clutch. He licks Alfonso's neck, waiting for him to relax once more. Then he starts to slowly move again, long deep thrusts.

Moaning, his hole feeling open and loose and like he's just taking whatever Christos gives him, Alfonso's hands curl against the wood of the door, nails digging in.

"You're so good, astari mu," Christos murmurs. "So good." He fucks into his lover, gradually speeding up until every thrust is punctuated by a harsh choppy breath, his own climax roaring towards him like a tornado.

Alfonso holds him in place, canting his hips to just the right angle, breathless and waiting for the moment Christos comes.

Christos sinks his teeth into Alfonso's shoulder, on fire and confident in the knowledge that his lover will have no nude scenes soon. His orgasm explodes through him in an instant.

The bite elicits another cry, Alfonso thankful for the soundproofing of the room, his cock throbbing violently in response even though there's nothing left to give.

Gasping for breath, Christos drops his forehead to rest on his lover's shoulder. He's shaken, drained, and so it's long moments before he can grip the condom tightly and ease out. "Come," he says simply, taking Alfonso's hand to lead him to the bed.

Alfonso shoves back the covers and collapses on the sheets, face pressed to the pillow for a moment before he lifts his head and grins at Christos. "Was that your plan all along?" he teases.

"Who, me?" Christos is the very picture of wounded innocence, but he can't keep it up for more than a second. "No," he says truthfully, lying down next to his lover. "But I like the way it turned out anyway. You're a good dancer."

"I'm okay," Alfonso allows. "You're better. Where did you learn?"

Christos shrugs. "Athens is very club-heavy, and so were most of the ports I sailed to in the Marines. Dancing was a great way to let off steam."

"Just dancing?" Alfonso teases.

"Mostly just dancing," Christos amends. "It's not good to be gay in the Marines."

"Did you ever get in trouble?" Alfonso asks, shifting to lay his head on Christos's shoulder.

Christos stiffens but tries to cover for it by wrapping his arms around his lover. "I'm very good at keeping secrets," he says, and breathes a kiss onto Alfonso's forehead.

Alfonso doesn't miss the way Christos reacts and he lifts his head, curious. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Of course not," Christos answers, his gaze skating away. "I'm just... remembering something, that's all."

Alfonso frowns. "Remembering what?" he prompts gently.

Christos shrugs like it's nothing, but the tightness of his jaw tells a different story. "I don't know the word in English. It's... tin énarxi. When you join a group, and you're new, and... Whatever that's called. They're hard on new Marines."

"Initiation?" Alfonso says, frowning more. "What did they do?"

"Initiation, yes. The sergeant and a couple of his buddies jumped me one night in the shower," Christos says quietly, and it occurs to him - too late - that he's never spoken of this to anyone before.

"Jumped you?" Alfonso repeats, the words and their meaning slowly sinking in. He shakes his head and presses a kiss to Alfonso's shoulder. "I am so sorry."

"It's all right." Christos shrugs, careful not to dislodge his lover from his resting spot. "It was just stupid. Stupid hazing bullshit."

"It doesn't sound stupid to me," Alfonso says, feeling both anger and sadness. "Did they do that to all the new ones?"

Christos swallows hard. "No. I mean, they'd beat on the weaker ones, sure. But... they took me down because I was big. They didn't want me challenging them."

"Have you ever talked to anyone about what happened?" Alfonso asks, watching Christos closely.

"No. Why would I?" Christos stacks his free arm beneath his head and studies Alfonso's gorgeous dark eyes. "It's not important." Even now his mind shies away from the brutal reality of what happened to him.

Alfonso gives him a disbelieving look. "Of course it's important. You were sexually assaulted."

"No." Christos huffs a sharp laugh. "It was just hazing. A stupid joke."

"You said they jumped you," Alfonso says, shifting so he can better meet Christos's gaze. "What did they do?" he demands, voice still soft but determined.

Christos looks away and wonders why they're bothering with this. "They beat me up. They-- they fucked me," he says, cursing himself for his hesitation. "They taught me not to fight them."

Alfonso has to remind himself that it's been years, that he has no idea where these men are, but it doesn't stop him from wanting to hunt them down and... hurt them. "Look at me," he orders softly.

It's the unusually fierce tone of voice that gets Christos, more than the words. He looks at his lover in question.

"I am so sorry this happened to you," Alfonso says earnestly, hoping Christos will take in his words - and that they're the right ones. "It wasn't just hazing. It wasn't just a stupid joke. You were sexually assaulted and you're a survivor, one of the strongest men I know. I know you want to pretend it didn't happen or that it meant nothing but that's not the case. It was wrong, they were horrible men, and I am so glad you didn't let their brutality make you brutal."

Christos's mind riots against the truth of his lover's words. But this is the most important relationship of his life. If he's ever going to be honest about his past, it has to be with Alfonso. "I don't want you to look at me differently," he whispers.

"Why would I do that?" Alfonso says softly, leaning in to brush his lips across Christos's mouth. "I love you and I already think you're amazing, this only makes me think it even more."

I love you. Those three words from Alfonso's lips still take Christos's breath away. "I love you too. I want to stay worthy of you."

"You are worthy of me, we're worthy of each other," Alfonso insists, pressing still closer, "trust me, what happened to you would never change that."

Christos shuts his eyes tight, willing the tears back. But he clings, wrapping himself around his lover.

Alfonso just holds Christos. Wraps his arms and his body around his lover, reassuring him with every second that passes.

[feedback welcome. comments screened.]