Between Friends 3: Sammy's Place

"I'm going to go back to the room, honey." Sammy wasn't dressed up. He wasn't having fun and he wasn't in the mood to blow everyone else's night.

Harry was hanging out with somebody pretending to be a leatherdaddy. Jason looked beautiful in the frock coat, and what little food Sammy'd eaten at supper hadn't settled.

"Oh, no, Sammy! No, please. Harry, I'm going to go dance with Sammy." Jase had that worried, sad look in his eyes again.

"Jase. Grab Harry. He's been checking you out all evening." He found a smile for Jason, patted his arm. "Go. Dance. Shake your groove thing."

Harry's pretend leatherdaddy friend came over, giving him and Jase a soft smile. "I was wondering if you wanted to dance?"

"I." Sammy started to shake his head -- he really was in the middle of a huge pout -- but then the music changed to something fun and light-hearted and yeah. Yeah, he sort of wanted to dance.

"Come on. A pretty little thing like you should be out on the dance floor, shaking your ass."

"Fuck, I'm not pretty, but yeah. I'll have a dance." He stood and took the guy's hand, heading them out.

The hand in his was warm and smooth, strong. It was almost a shame to drop it so they could dance.

He started moving, closing his eyes and just going with it, rocking and bopping away. It was like being in his own fucking world. A hand landed on his hip, fingers curling around, tugging him into leatherdaddy's space.

Sammy blinked, the touch surprising him a little. "Hey."

Leatherdaddy smiled down at him. "You really lose yourself in the music."

"You have to lose yourself somewhere." Another wave of sadness hit him and he sighed. "You know, I'm going to go. I hope you have a great night. Tell Jase... Fuck, tell him I found someone to go home with. That'll keep him from worrying."

"That's it? I get thirty seconds of dancing, and you're in your own little world for twenty-five of those, and then you're off?" Leatherdaddy shook his head. "If you don't want to dance, that's fine. But then let me buy you a cup of coffee."

Oh, man. "I'm sorry. Really. I just." Somebody bumped into him and he stepped into strong arms, both of them still moving, dancing.

The guy smelled like leather, and he was strong, chest muscles solid against him, the arms around him holding him loosely, but somehow securely. "That's more like it."

"You smell good." The words escaped him, like he'd had way too many. Jesus.

He got a slow smile for it, though, one that went right to the man's eyes. "Thank you. I love the smell of leather, myself."

Sammy nodded, moving easily, being led so well that he didn't have to think, he could just move.

"I'm Peter, by the way."

"Sammy. I'm Jason's old roommate." Peter -- great name for a gay man, really.

"Samuel. It's good to meet you." Peter pulled him around smoothly, out of the way of two guys who were starting to get a little too enthusiastic with their dance moves.

"Thanks."

Peter was tall, hair dark like his, but not a mop. Not messy. Not like a forest creature. Jesus.

"So how come you're not dressed up?"

"I didn't feel like pretending to be happy."

"And why aren't you happy?"

"How the fuck should I know?" He laughed, the sound bitter in his ears. "People are unhappy. It's the natural state of being."

One eyebrow went up. "I disagree. I also would prefer it if you didn't curse. Such foul language should not come out of such a lovely man."

Well, what the fuck did you say to something like that?