Page 61 of Laken's longing

“Hello sugar pie,” Laken murmured, easing him back into his seat, reaching across to grab the seatbelt and click it in place, knuckles brushing over his lower abdomen. It quivered under the layers of fabric, and Isley’s lower body got a nice energy boost.

Dark, fathomless eyes crinkled at the corners as that slow, drool worthy, sexy grin appeared. Isley released a shuddery breath, the whole of him overheating.

“I bet that smile could heat a small nation,” he said without thinking, blushing at the burst of sudden laughter that filled the car with its cheerful sound.

To distract from how his dick was hard enough to bust through the zipper, Isley asked, “Where are we headed? Couldn’t work out what the wet wipes were for.” Unless it was sex.

He giggled at Laken’s laughter turning into a cough that came out more choked. He shook his head like he was undecided. After came a rolling of those wide shoulders in a denim jacket that fitted the broadness perfectly, as if he was readying for a fight. It left Isley intrigued when Laken drove them out of the car lot and headed left into town.

“Is what we’re doing a fun thing?” Naked fun? He kept that to himself, despite it being what he hoped for, his eyes never leaving Laken, taking in his profile. The jacket matched the denim jeans that hugged his thighs lovingly and made Isley send a silent thank you to whoever invented denim.

“Not sure fun is the right word,” Laken muttered more to himself, intriguing Isley further. Because if he wasn’t mistaken, he could hear the nerves in Laken’s voice.

“What is the right word?” Isley asked, not holding back a cheeky grin.

“Madness,” Laken said fatalistically.

“Oh… that sounds intriguing. Not sure I’ve had a madness date before.”

Laken threw him a look he couldn’t interpret. “Always gotta be a first.”

He seemed less inclined to say more, leaving Isley to watch for street signs to see if that would give him a clue as silence lapsed between them. It wasn’t strained, so Isley didn’t fill it.

When they parked in a busy car lot outside a warehouse just on the outskirts of Hazardville, in a busy industrial area, Isley glanced at the large non-descript building, a frown tugging at his brows. He glanced at Laken who got out of the car and went to the trunk, retrieving a bag similar in size to Isley’s. For a moment, the man dressed in denim, with a swagger any cowboy would be proud of, was Isley’s only focus. There was a plain black T-shirt underneath the jacket that stretched to fit the wideexpanse of chest, and Isley’s fingers curled at the thoughts of getting to touch it without clothes on.

Isley got out when Laken came round to his door, anticipation growing. The windows of the warehouse were all blackout, and he strained to hear but didn’t make out any discernible noise, giving no clue as to what was inside the building.

“Gonna tell me what we’re doing here?”

Another car pulled up, and people piled out while Laken reached for Isley’s hand, interlinking their fingers. Isley lost his train of thought at the unexpected PDA. He stared at their joined hands like he’d never seen them before, then up at Laken wearing a sappy grin when Laken blushed. Like a full on, creeping up the neck, blush.

“What? It’s just hand holding,” he stated gruffly.

Excited chatter came from the group moving closer, but Isley didn’t take his eyes off a fidgeting Laken. Finding this nervousness endearing, he was just so cute, though he’d never say so.

“Stop staring at me like that if you want to have this date,” Laken grumbled, tagging Isley along with him towards the big double doors. When those in front got there ahead of them, the door opened and out came a cloud of colored air.

Isley quickened his step to get to the door, his mind disbelieving when he considered all the possibilities. Energy and wet wipes.

A change of clothes, energy and wet wipes!

Oh Gods. Now it made a lot more sense as they stepped through the open door, into a small entranceway, painted black but covered in fine particles of multicolored paint.

The vibe was dynamic. Those behind the counter wore cheerful grins as they explained what to expect. The people who came in before them walked off to a door marked ‘changing room’.

A sign at the back of the check in area read:Dancing in the dark. Allow your soul to paint the air any color you want.

Excitement buzzed through Isley like an electrical shock and got him dragging Laken to the counter. Bouncing in his Vans, he watched the packets being laid out, and he could see headphones, glow sticks, packets of powered paint, and locker keys.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he jabbered enthusiastically.

A big guy with several interesting piercings motioned to them. “First timer, huh?”

“Yep,”

“Did you purchase tickets online?”

“I did,” Laken replied in a strangled voice.