“Let’s just…” Aaron chooses the wrong moment to glance Tristan and has the privilege of seeing his little wave at the jerk. “…forget about it,” he trails off and sips on his beer as he waits for Tristan to finish his drink.
It’s almost enough to make him forget. He so easily get’s lost in the feel of Tristan’s body, that he almost totally forgets about the other guy and the napkin that’s still nice and cozy in Tristan’s back pocket. He snakes his arms around Tristan’s waist, takes a firm hold of his ass, and pulls him into his body.
At first, it’s all about the music and molding his own body into Tristan’s but then he looks up and of course, that fucking asshole is still trying to cruise on Tristan from the edge of the dance floor. A sense of possession overtakes Aaron and his grip on Tristan’s ass grows tighter. If there was any room between their bodies before, it is completely eliminated now. He’s so tempted to just reach in, take out the napkin, and throw it on the ground. He finally gives into temptation and right before his hand starts to slide into the pocket, he’s distracted by the feel of Tristan’s hand in his hair and breath on his neck.
He just starts planting kissing along Tristan’s jaw when the alcohol hits him - but not in the head. “Shit babe, gotta pee.” He leans down, teasing Tristan’s pulse point before pulling away. “Stay right here. I’ll be right back.” He gives Tristan’s ass a swat before walking off the dance floor, making sure to give the dickhead a hard shoulder bump on the way to the bathroom.
Tristan barely swallows a low groan when Aaron pulls him back out to the dance floor; he shivers in delight when Aaron’s hands slip down over his jeans and moans outright when Aaron digs his fingers in and drags him closer still. He’s too tipsy to feel bad about it but at least the music is loud, loud enough and dark enough to hide his satisfied noises and the way he moves, slow and teasing, against his boyfriend.
He tips his head back and sighs in frustration when Aaron kisses at his neck entirely too briefly before swatting him once (his hips jerk restlessly against Aaron’s as Aaron smacks his ass) and leaving him to wait Aaron slips through the crowd to the back of the club.
There’s no reason for him to leave, he figures, and Aaron did tell him to stay put, so Tristan keeps dancing, his hands through his hair and over his head as he arches and twists and and bops along to the music, clearly enjoying himself. He makes the mistake of not paying enough attention as the guy sidles back up behind him, and though he moves away he doesn’t do much more than laugh and give the guy a gentle push to make sure he gives Tristan a little more space.
It’s easy for Tristan to know what he means — no, back off, sorry — and easier for him to assume that after everything they’ve been through (Katie, Ian, the rough weeks he had spent with Aaron as Aaron tried to tend to Alexa) Aaron knows how devoted he is, but he’s tipsy and relaxed and looks probably too friendly with the guy even as he puts a little distance away from him (and turns, just to make sure the guy can’t make another grab for his ass).