It's not like it's rare at his gigs for someone to sidle up to the booth and go, "Hey! Nice music!", grinning and interested.
"If you're hitting on me, queue's to your left," Dave replies, and then he looks.
The man has nice arms. Solid shoulders, strong biceps. Baby face still, baby-blue eyes in the white strobe lights and friendly dimples. Someone got him with funny cat-whiskers paint that's just subtle enough to tickle Dave's funny bone, but with a body like that he's got to be at least twenty.
"What, no!" The man blushes so hard Dave can see his face darken even through the flashing lighting and dim of the dance floor. He actually honest-to-God flails his hands, what a dork. "I just -- argh, and you totally know that, don't you?" he finishes with an accusatory glare.
Dave gives him a faint smirk. "Maybe I do." Dave doesn't usually like them blond -- he's blond enough for two, contrast is nice -- but he does like them buff. (If he wants thin and pretty he'll usually just go for a girl, unless the guy is, like, hella pretty.) He nods toward the guy's white T-shirt, stuck to his abs with a large splash of probably someone's drink. "Nice ink."
The look that passes on the guy's dude is a bit weird, unexpected, not pleasure and not embarrassment. His hand rises to cover his stomach, rub it fitfully, and then he grins again but it's way dimmer than it was. "Ah. It's not really -- nah, never mind, thanks. Heh."
... Um, wow, and now Dave is feeling guilty for being an accidental downer, what the hell. Cute dude needs to stop being fucking adorbs. "Personal meaning, huh?" He nods, tugs the first two buttons of his button-up open to flash the fist-sized clock gear on his breastbone. "Me too."
The guy blinks, mouth opening a bit in surprise, maybe some confusion, and Dave doesn't want to get angst-heavy with some random cute dude at the DJ booth, so he leans in over his table and shoots the sprawling spiral and its writhing tongues of black fire over guy's stomach and belly a sweeping, heavy-lidded look over the rim of his shades.
"So... How far down does this bad boy go?"
Cute Blond stares at him for another second -- wowza, is he, like, straight or what -- and then bursts out laughing. "Oh my god that was so corny! It's like straight out of my teacher's porno books!" He cracks up, slumping against Dave's turntables. "That was so bad."
Dave watches him laugh, fights not to laugh with him. Wow, that jerk, why does he have to have such contagious laughter, he's going to damage Dave's rep at this rate. Dave waggles his eyebrows, fighting to keep the rest of his face still. "Yeah, but did it work."
The laughter cuts off with abrupt surprise. Dave feels a little gutpunched when the guy stares at him with laser-guided intensity. Fuck, he's not just cute, he's like. Actively hot. How is he still such a dork if he can pull out that kind of face.
Dave tilts his head, patient. "Hm?"
"... Huh. Maybe... Maybe a little."
Oh fuck, yes, he is totally going to score. Shit. Yes. It's obvious as the nose in someone's face that this is going to be this guy's big college experimentation -- if he were used to flirting with guys he'd already know who he can pull, there'd be none of that sweet obliviousness and -- and okay, be cool, Strider.
He purrs. "Bro, there's nothing little about my hunger for your... big tattoo."
The guy punches him in the shoulder. It's a friendly punch, a laughing one. Dave lets out a stoic ow. Fuck, he's strong. Hot. Crazy hot.
Dave changes the music to something that's pretty much porn soundtrack, and then offers the guy his hand, fingers wagging. "I double-dog dare you."
The guy squares his shoulders, sets his chin to mulish challenge. "You know what, okay! I will dance you into the ground."
It isn't a very sexy dance, no seductive rubbing, no gropes. They get sillier and sillier as they go, ridiculous unsmooth moves and corny eyebrow-waggle competitions, until Dave kisses him and for a while the guy freezes, right here in the middle of the dance floor and Dave thinks he has misread everything from the start.
And then he kisses Dave back so hard he almost takes out his teeth, yanks him into his rock-hard chest and holds on and Dave was wrong, it's the sexiest fucking dance he's ever danced. He rakes his hands through thick bristling hair and holds on. Not a lot of experience in the way the guy uses his tongue, but he learns fast as anything and he's intense enough to make a nun moan.
Dave doesn't know his name and hasn't seen his dick and he already wants his number.
(It feels like he has baby fangs in there. Dave can't wait to feel them on his skin.)