Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Brown Sugar	By : GraviBunni Category: +A through F > Dance Central Views: 844 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dance Central, nor the characters within. I am not profiting from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Brown Sugar
- 2-Brightest Victory
- 1
- 2
"'Ey, papi. Check out this stud. And these studs." The cocky dancer jerked his thumbs at himself before flashing his ears to his best friend. Mo snort-laughed at his purposely egomaniacal statement as he glanced up at him from his number-infested textbook.
The African-American was studying, on a weekend, for a Calculus test before Angel crashed his personal study party by inviting him over, failing to entice him with a couple six-packs of cheap booze he had some groupie from school buy for him. Mo wasn't too into anything alcohol related, but enjoyed the idea of spending time with Angel, especially if they were alone.
If Angel wanted to kill himself he would've aimed for swiping stronger liquor from his parent's, but despite the both of them nearly always traveling and leaving the young Hispanic home they kept their cabinets under lock and key. Besides, Angel wasn't particularly in the mood to get shitfaced drunk, he was simply bored and, call him shallow, but it made him feel cool.
"Those look stupid," Mo stated bluntly, pointing lazily at the Latino's ears.

"That looks stupid," Angel teased, flicking the page Mo left the book open on before abruptly shutting it. The book slammed shut with a thud and Mo scowled.

"Yer gonna look real stupid when yer borrowin' my notes five seconds 'fore class."

Angel shrugged non-committedly, whole-heartedly agreeing with Mo.
Mildly bored and mind stuffy from studying so much, the darker teen changed the subject to something that would humor the both of them. "When'd ya get 'em? Why?"

Angel set the bottleneck down after a deep swig and leaned on the armrests of the chair Mo was currently occupying. "Knew you couldn't resist." Angel's breath reeked of hot alcohol and Mo scrunched his nose up in disgust. He used his palm to push the other's face away, knowing that the natural flirt's guard and standards dropped horribly low when he was drinking and that sometimes ended with Angel crossing some sort of boundry.
Mo jerked when a hot tongue was dragged from his wrist to the tip of his index in one broad stroke. The feeling lit a fire in his arm but Mo tried shaking the feeling off, along with his blush. He harshly wiped his wet hand on Angel's wifebeater, unintentionally feeling the hard muscles there. It's not like he had never seen them before, Angel knew he had a great body and showed it off proudly, he just never actually touched him; the guy never had a reason to until now. Angel cleared his throat to start speaking again and Mo retracted his hand too quickly to pretend like he wasn't lingering.

The Latino eyed him curiously, sly smirk playing on his face, "Thought it'd attract more chicas."

With his mind muddled and heat still occupying his cheeks, Mo couldn't form a proper comeback and settled for grunting in disapproval and rolling his eyes.
Angel absently twisted one of his earrings when he set to explain where he got them from then hissed in pain, feeling gross flakes on his fingertips. Upon closer inspection the sparkling, most definitely real diamonds, were perched on angry, red earlobes.

"Ew, nigga. Ya needa clean that shit."

Scowling and slightly embarrassed, the usually immaculate male was called out on his ear's hygeine and he wasn't too happy about it.

"It fuckin' hurts."

Mo frowned slightly, "Aight, aight. I got this." The tagger stood, repositiong his short poncho on his shoulders, and made his way over to Angel's bathroom. He knew the salsa dancer's house better than his own, the two spent so much time together, so he had no trouble finding some cotton balls, rubbing alcohol and Q-tips.
Angel waited on the fouton in his office, which he kept in the large room in case he fell asleep at his desk during bouts of intense paperwork. He absently fiddled with the studs which only irritated the already swelling flesh.

Mo clucked his tongue disapprovingly, smacking his hands away and causing ringed fingers to jerk on the tender lobe; both dancers winced at the Latino's pain. Angel shot him a dirty look and Mo quietly apologized.
"Here, let me fix ya up," Mo offered, trying to make up for earlier, as he positioned himself next to the Latino with one knee tucked under him and his other leg hanging idly off the black cushions.

The Puerto Rican regarded him with faux suspicion, "You might kill me."

Simply wanting to help, the concerned B-boy gave him a disbelieving look, "Shut up."

A sarcastic huff of breath slipped past curved lips and Angel decided to drop their 'oh-so-compelling' conversation.
The tagger-turned-medic held a few pre-medicated cotton swabs between his fingers and turned Angel's head away from him for a better view. He saddled up closer to the other and gently began probing. Angel grit his teeth and cursed in Spanish under his breath. The Latino felt as though his ears were on fire until Mo dabbed at them with a cool cottonball. He sighed in relief, the heat vanishing for a moment before it quickly overtook the chill of the alcohol-doused cotton.
Mo scooted closer to him, his knee digging into the tanned dancer's thigh and his other leg curled under Angel's right for leverage. Angel turned to question his friend's close proximity but Mo lightly pushed his jaw with his knuckles so he would face foward. The darker male's brows furrowed in concentration, the prankster trying his hand at not hurting his friend again, and lightly stroked between the sore flesh and thin, silver rod. He twirled the Q-tip around the base of the earring once more before declaring himself finished.
Angel released a terse breath he'd been holding and Mo laughed, "Toughen up, man."

"You know I hate pain," he grit out, glaring.

Mo shook his head, the fuzzy ball on his beanie bouncing playfully, as he stood up to reach the other ear while the V.I.P scooted over to accommodate for the returning body. He sunk into the seats and cozied up near the suave Latino with the same intimacy as before. He felt Angel tense under his fingers again and found this oddly attractive; the rich, overconfident badboy afraid of a little pain. Of course the romantic made it clear, on several occassions, that he wasn't afraid of pain, he just didn't like it. Enjoying the bodily contact, and happy with his excuse to be so close to the other, he felt his cheeks grow warmer and Mo rubbed at his wrist, blaming the increase in temperature on the suffocating heat outside.
Still waiting for his treatment and not bothering to turn his head, figuring Mo would simply move it back, Angel asked, "What's wrong? Is it bleedin'?"

The flustered tagger muttered a hardly audible, 'nah'. Then he cleared his throat, "Hey, Angel? Is it hot in here or is it just me?"

Angel laughed at his own joke before it ever left his mouth, "It's just you." A quick smirk tugged his lips up as he peered at Mo through the corner of his eyes.
Instead of Mo's usually sarcastic laugh he was disappointed when the younger avoided his gaze, staring at his bare shoulder. His lips twitched and Angel could recall only ever seeing this once when told him he kissed MacCoy under the mistletoe at Aubrey's Christmas party, although it was more of a platonic kiss than anything, at least for the Hispanic. Secretly stuck bearing the burden of wanting to please the people he cared about Angel spent the rest of the night prying loose what Mo didn't want to tell him. The disgruntled powerhouse avoided him the whole night and refused to speak to him, but from what he could piece together, his friend had his amber eyes set on the geeky Russian.
Angel muttered a, "We cool?", afraid that the tension in the room was caused by an event that happened months ago.

Mo gave him a confused look. Quickly snapping out of his thoughts he replied with a, "Yea, man. We cool."

He removed his hat and poncho for relief and lifted his hands back up to tenderly clean the other. Breathing through his mouth, the smell of the antiseptic bothering him, he let his breath wash over Angel's neck. His 'patient' closed his eyes and reached a hand out to grip the younger's thigh; Mo let it slide, believing it to help soothe the pain.
This side was particularly nastier than the other and Mo decided to take the stud out completely.

"Yo, this is gonna hurt, don't flip on me."

He pulled the backing off and the sterling rod out. Angel hardly flinched, his fingers nearly stroking the side of Mo's thigh in deep thought, he almost forgot where he was. The African-American was surprised, tensing his thigh to keep from feeling, and re-inserted the Latino's earring.

"Aight, done."

He lightly shoved the other in the shoulder when he didn't respond, fingers curling around his biceps to shake him.
"Mo." His tone was serious and Mo stiffened when a chill rode his spine.

Mo wasn't sure if he somehow pissed the taller dancer off, seeing as he rarely saw him angry and when he was it wasn't directed at him.
He stared at the nervous tagger, heavy browns clear of false bravado and replaced by regret, "I'm sorry if I ever hurt you." He rubbed Mo's thigh, swiping his knee with a thumb.
Mo gulped, knowing exactly what this was about, "I forgive ya."

Angel awarded him with an appreciative smile, "Thanks."

"Welcome," he replied quickly, digging his thumbnails into the fluffy ball of his blue hat.
Angel's ringed hand remained on the blushing tagger's soft thigh and he started to massage it, his hand creeping up higher, then sliding back down in a simple sweep. Angel tenderly narrowed his eyes at Mo, questioning him with a baffled expression. "Why were you so pissed at me that night?" Mo still hadn't told him and Angel felt that 'Sherlock Holmes' wasn't exactly his alter-ego.
Mo's body went rigid, his shoulders unconciously rose higher and he clutched the beanie tighter in his hand before shoving it back on his head and pulling it down. Angel shifted his whole body towards Mo, sitting the same as the person across from him. Mo's eyes flickered over to the door and he opened his mouth to tell the other that he was leaving but the curious dancer pressured him into relaxing again with reassuring browns.
"Angel, I don't wanna talk 'bout it," Mo pleaded, curving his shoulders inwards and leaning away from the other. The curious Puerto Rican winced at Mo's tone, but he pressed on, determined to finish what he started. He wracked his brain for something to say and figured he should just lay down everything he knew, or at least thought he was sure of, out in the open.

"I know how you feel," he paused for a moment to successfully make eye contact before Mo hastily reverted his gaze back to his hands, "and I'm okay with it. It doesn't bother me." He punctuated his sentence with a light squeeze and Mo's bottom lip twitched again.
Mo's eyes snapped back up to him with uncertainty, his voice on edge, "How? Did someone tell ya?"

Angel shook his head lightly, "I figured it out."

Amber eyes had a hard time keeping contact with dark golds and Mo mumbled, "It was that obvious?"

Nodding his head in confirmation and smiling Angel replied in a teasing tone, "Kinda. And listen, I know I like to mess around but don't worry cuz I'm not gonna intrude on your territory, I know how defensive you get." Angel chuckled and tapped the other's thigh twice before resting it back in his lap.
The powerhouse jerked slightly, "Wait, what? What'cha mean intrude on my territory?"

"I'm not makin' any moves on MacCoy," Angel stated simply, as if he knew the two were on the same page.

Chewing on his cheek and then scratching at his collarbone Mo realized what an idiot his so-called "suave" friend could be. "This ain't 'bout him, Angel."
Angel's smile converted into a slight frown, "Then what the hell is this about?"

Mo's jaw clenched and he sighed in frustration. He really wished he had his hoodie for comfort at this point. Swallowing hard, his mouth dried up, he confessed.

"It's 'bout you, homes." He waited until a concerned look registered on the dapper dancer's face. "I wanted ta chill wit' ya all Christmas night and I shoulda been the one ya kissed, even if it was cuz of a stupid ass plant. I coulda settled fer jus' that. I wasn't mad at ya, I jus' couldn't handle it anymore." Mo felt like he blurted it all at once, even though he took incredibly long pauses between sentences.
The two sat in an awkward silence while Angel processed all this new and surprising information. Breathing hard, the anxious tagger didn't particularly expect any outburst from his friend, seeing as how the casual Latino was open-minded. With a red face and upset stomach Mo scratched at his pinky with his thumb, "It'd be nice if ya said somethin'."

Angel let out an uneasy chuckle, "It's kinda hard to when you're lookin' at me like that."
Mo conciously dropped his head down, feeling like an idiot and wishing he could just leave without fighting with the nosy other.

"Hey, man," the older male reached his hands out and gingerly lifted Mo's chin up, suddenly feeling like he was comforting a girlfriend. "You didn't let me finish." Angel sighed and pensively ran nimble fingers through thick brown locks, "I never thought about bein' with a guy before, especially not my best friend. I...this is hard for me, Mo."

Mo nearly doubled over, his lungs feeling like they were collapsing and he barely choked out a response, "This is exactly why I didn't wanna fuckin' talk 'bout it."
The rejected downrocker attempted making a mad dash for the door but Angel swiftly grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him back down, wrestling him into submission and pinning him to the soft cushions. Mo stared wide-eyed up at the other, too afraid to move and not exactly in the right state of mind. The Puerto Rican was perched on the darker male's stomach and scowled, "Let me finish, damn it. I'm not as bad at relationships as you think I am. I said that this was hard for me, not that I didn't wanna try."
Mo sucked in a shallow breath and quickly exhaled suddenly needing more oxygen.

Angel laughed lightly, "Breathe, Flash."

Closing his eyes slowly and inhaling deeply through his nose he felt Angel press closer against him. The confident dancer lay with his chest pressed against Mo and his forearms lazily propping him up. When the flustered downrocker opened his eyes he was surprised by how near Angel's face was to his.
Mo tentatively placed his hands on the small of Angel's back, this didn't feel real although the male on top of him did. Angel pressed their foreheads together and Mo stuttered out, "Aight, man. Ya got me. Ya got me, now quit messin'."

"I ain't messin'," Angel playfully mocked his accent and Mo's head swirled from his hot breath washing over his lips, "This isn't a joke. I'm serious."
Deciding to tease the squirming B-boy he placed a wet kiss to his neck, then trailed feather-light kisses up to his chin, he paused there and hovered over thick lips, enjoying the slight sounds Mo was making. He'd never seen his usually cool and collected friend this way, so needy and gasping, and it made his heart flutter and his groin stir. The body under him writhed and Angel watched as wide amber eyes became lidded. Lowering his lips to Mo's he simply pressed them there before realizing that it was a pleasant feeling and worked his mouth against his friend's gently. Mo surprised him by immediately bucking up and tugging playfully at the fabric by the small of his back and pulled it loose while kissing him back.
Angel enjoyed this kiss much more than the one he shared with MacCoy. Mo's lips were much softer, unlike 'Coy's abused lips, which was probably a direct result of him always chewing on them. Besides, these melded perfectly with Angel's.
Mo moaned into the kiss and dragged his fingers up Angel's ribcage, under his muscle shirt. He pushed at Angel's sides, hinting for him to lift up so he could remove the shirt completely. Shuddering, the Latino realized that this was moving entirely too fast for his liking. Contrary to popular belief, he enjoyed taking his time. He broke the kiss and stared down at Mo, nearly flinching at his visible disappointment from loss of contact.
Angel watched as a flashing series of emotions flickered over Mo's visage-confusion, fear and then something akin to anger. Mo misinterpreted his friend's hesitation and reluctantly pulled his hands away from Angel's sides, they felt glued there but then one hung limply off the fouton, the other propped against the back.
"Ya dont hafta do this. Ya ain't obligated or nothin' and I don't want yer pity. Forget I even said anythin'," Mo grit out, keeping his head turned away and his eyes trained on the shiny doorknob of Angel's front door.

The Puerto Rican brushed his nose against the exposed neck in apology but the distressed powerhouse buried himself deeper into the couch, trying to get away. Frowning, Angel sat back up, amazed to find that he immediately missed the loss of contact and luscious warmth.

He gazed at the other with pleading eyes, "This is goin' too fast fer me," Angel explained.

The darker male scoffed, highly doubting his friend. Trying to push the other off, "Just let me get up so I can leave."
Angel shook his head, smiling warmly at the other and covered Mo's hand with his own when the embarrassed downrocker tried escaping again. "Stop tryin' to hop away from me, conejito. Listen to me." he begged, trying to convince the other that he was up for experimenting, if only a little.

"Ya know my luck with relationships, Mo. I don't want this to end up like those, where we're not friends anymore. I wanna go slow so somethin' can last." Angel admitted, he moved Mo's hand over his heart, "I want my heart to beat for you."
Mo's frown twisted oddly, his lips pulling up before dropping back down, like he was fighting with some sort of internal struggle. A brown brow rose in question, "What?"

Harsh coughs turned into laughter, his teeth bared in a pretty smile and eyes squinting from pure mirth. "That was real romantic and all but it was super cheesy, man."
Slight color wafting over his cheeks and somehow still miraculously keeping eye contact, the other muttered, "It sounds better in Spanish." Mo snorted in disbelief, fingers lightly stroking the fabric of the V.I.P's striped dress shirt where his hand still rested.

"Quiero que mi corazón late por ti," the dancer seemed to cradle the words, savoring them. Occupied fingers paused mid-stroke while amber eyes watched Angel's lips move in fascination.

Purposely running a slick, pink tongue to wet his bottom lip, Angel smiled knowingly, "Told you so."
Resisting from jerking him down harshly, Mo gently tugged at his shirt and had no trouble in coaxing him closer and kissed him again, much more slowly this time. The livewire kiss sending currents of electricity through their body, the hair on the nape of their neck standing up. Angel was pressed flush against him, leaning on one elbow while stroking his cheek with a ringed thumb; the other timidly skated across his chest, trying not to rush past any boundries while digits wove themselves through spiky, chocolate brown hair.
Losing themselves, both dancers were taken by surprise when the casanaova nibbled Mo's bottom lip. He thoughtlessly allowed him access and the curious Latino tenderly probed his shy tongue at first before deepening the kiss and eagerly exploring his mouth. Despite the other's previous drinking affair Mo still found Angel's taste intoxicating and Angel couldn't quite figure out what Mo tasted like, maybe brown sugar. He wasn't fond of sweets but he loved this.
Angel unwillingly pulled back for breath, staring at Mo's flushed face. Dipping his head low, he buried his nose in the darker males neck again, inhaling his scent and smiled pleasantly, mumbling something with his lips moving over to his collarbone. Mo hummed in appreciation as he thoughtlessly trailed fingers across his waistband, unknowingly causing Angel to shudder.

A sly face hovered over his again and Angel smiled. "I said I could get used to this."

Beaming and suddenly feeling weightless, Mo reveled in the news.
"You can crash here tonight."

"Ya gonna kick me to the couch?" Mo joked, hopeful that he wouldn't.

"Nah. Sleep in my bed," Angel offered, flashing a charming smile.

Amber's widened with interest, "Wit' ya in it?"

Gold eyes blinked innocently, then smirked-catching on, "We can cuddle if you want, but nothing more," he paused, "at least for now."
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Brown Sugar