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Teach Me How to Jerk	By : GraviBunni Category: +A through F > Dance Central Views: 845 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dance Central, nor the characters within. I am not profiting from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Teach Me How to Jerk
- 1
The three male stars of Dance Central were sprawled out on Angel's rather large plush and cushy leather sofa. Usually sharply dressed, the dapper salsa dancer lounged in a pair of pajama bottoms, propped up against the armrest, patiently waiting his turn and eyeing Mo. Mo sagged into the cushions on the opposite end of the Latino with his legs strewn across MacCoy's lap while his fingers pinched a thick, white paper rod. He smirked, and with half-lidded eyes he slowly, teasingly raised it to his lips.

His cheeks barely sucked in and he let the smoke dance around in his lungs before blowing out through his nostrils. MacCoy watched in sluggish amazement and the Puerto Rican to the blond's right was determined to one-up the other. Angel flicked up his hand, lazily signaling that he wanted a go again and Mo shook his head, baiting him by wagging the joint back and forth at him. Grunting half-heartedly, too deep in unnatural euphoria to become upset, he managed to sit up fully while Mo held it out to him.
MacCoy was sinking into the cushions too, thoroughly enjoying himself. He'd never felt so relaxed in his life. His head was tossed back, ass making a temporary indent in the sofa while he slouched with his arms laying practically dead and useless at his sides. He felt a heavy weight shift beside him and knew it was Angel when the weight vanished away from him, back to the other side. He tilted his head to observe the smooth Latino.

A quick wink from the tanned man made his heart thud noisily, working harder than the trio of males were, and he stared with heated cheeks as he studied the way Angel leisurely wrapped his lips around the joint. Taking a deep breath, then pausing, Angel exhaled a small ring of smoke in the blond's direction, nothing extravagant but impressive to the easy-to-please Russian nontheless.
MacCoy licked his lips in anticipation, he didn't want the paper to stick like last time and noted that his mouth was awfully dry. Fully relaxed, the dapper Latino offered it up to the usually rowdy toprocker. The blond Russian lifted his hand eagerly and Angel glanced away for a second, looking as if he was contemplating his next move. He shifted over towards 'Coy, pulling his chin down with his index and thumb, before moving the last bit from his lips and placing it between MacCoy's. Squinting at Angel, mind in a haze but still suspicious, he nodded in appreciation while wiping at his blush.
Mo growled at Angel, nearly sobering up entirely and souring his mood, and kicked at the sneaky dancer with his foot. A pink sock clad foot connected with Angel's elbow, effectively smacking it up, causing him to poke himself in the eye while pearly whites gleamed in satisfaction. A normally ringed hand smacked his feet off 'Coy's lap and both glared at each other, hearing a long, drawn-out groan. Angel and Mo froze, turning their pretty mugs to stare wide-eyed at the stylehead; whose head was thrown back, pallid flesh of his arched neck fully exposed. Billows of smoke crept from his pursed lips and floated up, while his mouth curled sharply at the corners, " This feels so fuckin' good you guys. Best feeling ever."
Mo and Angel overexaggerated, turning the normal scene into something semi-erotic. Golden and amber eyes locked, then excited gold's flicked over to 'Coy, who was busy taking another drag, for a moment before resting on the wary downrocker's visage again.

Angel's playful smirk turned devilish, waching the ember glow burn down to a stub, nearly burning MacCoy's fingertips, "You obviously never had sex, pollocito."
MacCoy coughed, swallowing the smoke and beating on his chest in an attempt to burp himself, "What?" His voice rose a bit higher than usual and Mo picked up the dead roach the flustered Russian dropped on the floor and placed it in someone's empty can of soda.

Angel chuckled, his accent thicker, his tongue seeming to stick to the roof of his mouth, words slowly oozing out, "If this is the best feeling you've ever had then you've never had sex, obviamente."
The embarrassed Russian stared at his hands, "Whatever."

Mo shot heavy glares at the sly Latino, "Angel, quit messin' wit' 'im, homes."

The smooth talker tilted his head back, studying Mo for a moment before almost reluctantly flicking his eyes and jerking his head slightly at the red-faced dancer. Catching the signals, Mo relented, desperate to touch the toprocker.
"Ya mean ya haven't hit a homerun with Emilia?" Mo teased lightly.

MacCoy gaped at him increduously, "Yer on his side too?"

Mo swallowed his guilt, almost literally, his hormones were hard at work, raging.

Ignoring 'Coy, Angel spoke to grab his attention, "If you're so good at sports, how come ya can't score?"

"Because, Emilia's put him in the dug-out." Mo joked.

"So, how many times have you struck out, hm?" Angel inquired.
His mellow attitude began changing course for something worse, MacCoy was pissed off; he was pissed off because they were teasing him about something that wasn't any of their business, pissed off because his best friend was siding with a jerk, and pissed off because he wasn't even on the baseball team.

He lowly growled out a, "Go fuck yerselves and yer stupid baseball jokes."

Angel exploded into uproarious laughter and Mo joined in, though softer.
Calming himself, Mo looked at MacCoy pleadingly, the effects of the weed apparent in his glossy eyes and attitude, "We're jus' joshin', 'Coy."

MacCoy glared at them and looked at Mo's reassuring face and supposed that he should simmer down a bit. The musky scents of their breath reminding him of why they were all here in the first place, to relax. Their laughter, coming and going in obnoxious bursts, died out along with 'Coy's brief rage, though he was still slightly miffed.
Mo broke the odd silence, busying himself by rolling up another one, his tone more solemn, "Ya can't tell me a guy like you hasn't had sex yet."

Sapphire orbs drifted over to meet Mo's gaze, finding an intense stare and a pink muscle gliding across paper before nimble fingers worked the paper together tightly. This one was fatter than the one Angel rolled.

The blushing stylehead wasn't sure if his face was capable of burning any hotter or turning even redder but it did at the sight of Mo. He was unsure if he should tell Mo the truth, even if he was far more trustworthy than the other. It wouldn't be private though, with the nosy Latino scooching closer. His face scrunched up into a frowning sort of pout when he to turned to see where Angel was, thankfully he wasn't pressed up against him but still close.
MacCoy bit his bottom lip, pulling the the B-boy closer by his grey shirt, and whispered into his ear, "Nah. I've never had sex." The two were still close together, pale hands gripping the thin fabric of the shirt tightly, and Mo's ear twitched, his cheeks heating up. Mo almost gathered the courage to kiss him on the spot, or mutter something, anything remotely hinting at how he felt about the other, but Angel cleared his throat and piped in. Apparently he had still heard, he was only seated a couple inches away and MacCoy was the worst whisperer ever.

"Now, why is that?"
MacCoy jerked, releasing his tight hold on Mo, and scooched closer to his friend, away from the invading Puerto Rican. Feeling safer next to the darker male, but still uneasy by the fact that the other two males would continue smothering him with questions and heat. He knew they wouldnt leave him be until he told them everything personal about himself, so he opened up.

"It doesn't leave this room." he warned.

"Yea, man. Ya can trust me."

He pivoted his head to the V.I.P. behind him, who simply shrugged.

"I just don't know...I don't know how ta get that funky mojo flowin'."

Angel snorted and Mo stifled a choked chuckle. "First off, gringito, never use nerdy shit like that in the bedroom." And Mo, damned if he didn't try to, laughed in agreement.
Mo lit up, pausing their conversation and took a lung-popping drag, leaning towards MacCoy and blowing a river of smoke on his cheek. Smoke curled on its own accord under his jaw, gliding past his ear and invading his nostrils. MacCoy shuddered as a chill rode his spine, the warmth of the strong musk making his head spin.

"Yea, man. I'll show ya all the sweet spots."
Perfect brows shot up in mild surprise and slight amusement, never expecting Mo to make such a bold move, he scanned their faces, noting 'Coy's intense blush and the blatant lust in Mo's eyes. Angel leaned forward to grab the joint from the downrocker, naked chest purposely brushing against the blond's bare arm.

"Sorry, mijito," Angel lied, reaching up to grab his prize from Mo, who surprised them both by tenderly placing it between Angel's lips.

A curious brow arched, accompanied by a smirk, and Angel's lips seemed to linger on Mo's fingers before he slowly backed away, muttering a quick 'thank you'. Mo scoffed under his breath, turning his attention back to MacCoy, who was squirming and confused about the whole ordeal occuring over his lap.
"Guys?"

The sound of MacCoy's anxious voice snapped Angel out of his unexpected daze, "We didn't forget about you."

Now he was even more confused and was starting to become agitated, this was getting old very fast. Angel took a quick drag and exhaled, sensing MacCoy's impatience.

He feared losing his attention entirely so he said something to regain it. "Always keep eye contact."

Pulling his chin to face him and meet his gaze, MacCoy nodded, unsure if the two were going to teach him something he didn't already know.
Mo pressed up closer to the Russian, "She's prolly real nervous, so ya always wanna touch her somehow. Light strokes and shit on her arms or somethin'." Mo's palm cradled his elbow, hand creeping up before smoothing back down.

He continued light caresses as he paused to speak, "Get her used to ya," then his fingers danced over freckled shoulders, snaking their way under the strap of his blue tanktop and rubbing circles there.

"R-right," MacCoy stuttered, attempting to scooch away from his friend's odd behavior, only to have Angel squeeze against him, sandwiching him.
"He's right, pollocito." Angel confirmed. "Once you give her the benefit of the doubt, she'll let you do anything you want to her." MacCoy chewed on his lip, wanting to learn more but felt extremely uncomfortable sitting there with his guy friends getting too chummy with him. Angel gingerly lifted his hand and played with his fingers before encasing his palm and twining their fingers together. The Puerto Rican exhaled smoke on his neck, placed the joint back into the dancer's mouth then kissed each pale knuckle. MacCoy tried tugging his hand away in his lethargic state but the persistent Latino was still stronger and clutched his hand tighter.
MacCoy whined and gawked at his friend for help, but the darker B-boy smiled sweetly and kissed his wrist. The freckled male felt his insides squirm and then totally flop when Mo's touches traveled down his back and over his thigh, tracing imaginary shapes and patterns with his fingertips. MacCoy closed his eyes briefly, joint dangling idly on his lips, as he tried to shake off the fiery trails Mo created across his skin.
Angel snickered, thumb swiping back and forth over the goggled teen's hand, "Why do you look like you're in pain?"
Mo immediately halted his ministrations and muttered out a dejected, "Angel, he don't like it."

The hoodied dancer felt his confidence falling, spiraling down fast until MacCoy made a small noise, his voice struggling to crawl from his dry throat.

Making a smacking sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth he mumbled out, "I just need some water," he paused, mulling the decision over in his head, "Then you guys can show me what I need to know."
- 1
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Teach Me How to Jerk