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On his way out the door, he swiped an errant Franklin sitting in the bowl where they once kept their keys. Determined to go out with a real bang he decidedly left everything else behind, and jumped on the nearest bus headed downtown. Despite all the years he’d invested in their marriage and all the luxuries he’d lose as a result of this decision, frankly it was time to shit or get off the pot.
The bus dropped him off at a corner bursting with the young and wild. Although originating from all sorts of different places, they all had one thing in common in coming here: to make the world eat it and gag. The music from the various bars and clubs lining the street was a delirious mishmash of genres, and Thranduil felt dizzy with the possibilities as he began to walk. Eventually, he chose the one with the seductive red lights and the cocksure sounds of La Tierra.
The salsa club was the host of an infectious Latin vibe that Thranduil never followed, but tonight he gave himself permission to let fate lead the way. Slamming the hundred dollars on the bar, he purchased half its weight in top-shelf tequila and knocked back four as the electric zing of the live band began to tickle the length of his spine. The passionate sound of the trumpet was particularly electrifying and filled him to the extremities, until he had no choice but to physically exert the building energy.
“Keep the change!”
Tossing his Gucci blazer to the wayside with no intention of seeing it again, Thranduil closed his eyes and let the sensation of the music guide him right to the center of the crowded dance floor. The throng seemed to move as one, their sensual gyration a blur to his tequila coated senses, and he found himself falling into step as if he’d always known how. Shoulders, hips, and feet repossessed their freedom and it exhilarated Thranduil to shimmy and sway until he grew wet and flushed.
Thranduil danced with no one in particular at first, but soon found himself whipped effortlessly into a turn by an outside force. Left, right, and then straight into the arms of a bold and seductive stranger. Bracketing Thranduil’s hips with a sure grip, he showed Thranduil how to follow him closely without speaking a word, their sweat and breath intermingling as the lesson brought them chest-to-chest. Excited, liberated, and appropriately tipsy by that point, Thranduil buried his fingers into his brunette waves and pressed tightly into the experienced to-and-fro of his agile frame. Even with liquor onboard Thranduil had the wherewithal to realize that he was keeping up to his partner’s liking, because his efforts resulted in one helluva first kiss.
He lead Thranduil all over the dance floor with the expertise of a lifetime lover. At times facing him but mostly from behind, with his chin tucked into the crook of Thranduil’s neck and both hands around his waist. With their speedy movements Thranduil's t-shirt slowly crept up, the press of his partner’s grip hot against his perspiring abdominals. The heat and sexual tension grew so intensely that a soundless moan escaped Thranduil’s lips more than once. Turns became a reprieve, lifting his long hair from his neck and exposing it to wisps of coolness. The best part about it all, however, was that tall, dark, and handsome would always wind him back like an expertly managed yo-yo.
They tore up that dance floor for hours, stealing kisses and furtively groping one another, right up until they could no longer deny each other the real thing.
The following morning, Thranduil cracked open his eyes and just stared at the haphazard pile of clothes on an unfamiliar Lazy Boy for a long while, not daring to move right away on account of his massive headache. In the meantime, the last 24-hours slowly resurfaced in finite detail.
Thorin and he were no more, he had nowhere to go, and no money. Thranduil hadn’t even brought his cell, which was really neither here nor there considering it didn’t belong to him anyway. Then he remembered his agile dance partner, the sense of security his confident hands and solid frame had on him at the club and eventually…in bed. Thranduil blushed, unable to remember the last time he felt so turned on and sexually gratified from a single encounter. Sensing a presence, he finally turned his pounding head on the pillow.
“Mornin’…” The handsome stranger murmured gently, already awake and reflecting on the night in turn. The smile that he offered reached his tired hazel eyes, which were kind and crinkling in all the right places as they regarded Thranduil. With palpable affection, he reached over and caressed his face with the pad of his thumb. “Care for some coffee, darlin’? Maybe an Advil or two?”
Behind his tousled blonde hair, Thranduil found himself smiling back as he meekly nodded. “Perfect,” he croaked.
Within fifteen months, Bard Bowman would turn out to be everything Thranduil couldn’t live without. The passionate connection they ignited on that dance floor would transcend the highs and the lows still to come - Thranduil’s messy divorce, parenting four children, a global pandemic, even a battle with cancer - until the end of their days and beyond.