"Dude! Who do you keep staring at?" Everett asked as he scanned the people seated at the bar.

"No one," Zayne answered shyly.

"Really? Then why do I keep talking to the back of your head?"

Now they were all looking at the bar. Most of the patrons sitting there were enjoying their drinks and conversation. A handful of others fought for a place at the rail, waving their money in front of them hoping to be the next satisfied customer. The four officers searched through the line of partygoers trying to find the person who had caught their friend's eye.

"Stop!" Zayne shouted. "I'm not looking at anyone."

"Like hell you're not," Chris teased. "I've been watching you for the past half hour and you keep staring at the bar. Just tell us which of those hot chicks is going home with you tonight and we'll help you sweet talk her. Chicks are suckers for cops."

Zayne rolled his eyes at the young man with a buzz cut and took another sip of his whiskey. He had already had too much to drink but he refused to let his demons speak even a whisper tonight.

"Come on, Sketch!" Everett whined. He wrapped his arm around Zayne's shoulders, pulling the intoxicated man closer. "If you don't tell us, we're just going to go up to every woman standing there and ask her if she wants to sleep with our friend, the music teacher."

"Oh god, no!"

Jonah stepped in front of Zayne and waited for unfocused gray eyes to look at him. When they did, he held out a fresh glass of Jameson to the inebriated man.

"I dare you to go over there and ask the object of your desire for her number," he challenged with a smirk. "If you do, you get this. However, if you refuse, I'll post the video that I secretly took of you singing tonight on five dating websites."

"What the fuck?" Zayne yelled over the noise of the music.

The other officers patted Jonah on the back and laughed hysterically at the unfortunate dilemma their sketch artist now found himself in.

"Oh, just do it, will ya'?" Matt begged.

Jonah smiled. "What do you have to lose except maybe your...virginity?"

"Fuck you, Jonah!" Zayne snapped as he swiped the drink from the unsuspecting man's hand and downed it in one gulp.

The group gawked at him with their jaws dropped in shock.

Before the rational side of his brain could stop him, Zayne walked unsteadily in the direction of the crowded bar. A few steps away from the row of occupied stools he turned his head and saw his companions placing bets amongst themselves out of the corner of his eye.

Well, there was no point in stopping now. So, with a resigned shake of his head he closed the distance to the bar with five long strides.

Zayne stopped behind a tall blonde woman with curves most men would sell their souls to run their hands over. Slowly, he pivoted to his right and gave the young men egging him on a side glance....then shook his head with a smirk.

"Dammit!" Chris yelled and punched Matt's arm.

"I like him when he's drunk," Jonah admitted.

"I bet it's the redhead in the green dress." Everett pointed out. "She's got legs for miles, just like Sketch."

The four continued to watch with anticipation as Zayne took a few steps to his left and settled himself between a man in a black leather jacket and a young woman whose little sequined dress didn't leave much to the imagination. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

His friends were about to celebrate as if their favorite football team just scored a touchdown. However, what happened next, was something they never could have predicted.

Zayne turned his body towards the brooding guy sitting alone at the bar. He knew the young man was alone because the bad boy had not talked to a single person since taking his seat. Zayne's attention had been focused on the ripped jeans and tight white t-shirt ever since the beautiful man entered the club. There was something about the way the stranger carried himself, as if he wasn't afraid of anything or anyone. His confidence was like a drug running through Zayne's blood.

The man whom he hadn't been able to tear his eyes off of since the rebel followed them into the club had his head down. So, Zayne waited patiently. He kept his eyes on the man's reflection until light amber eyes caged his gray ones. His breath hitched when his obsession's full lips parted slightly, lips that Zayne wanted to lick and bite his way through to reach the heaven he knew awaited inside.

Shit! What am I thinking?! He's a guy! Not a girl!

But he's so...gorgeous.

But I'm not gay! Am I? Wait! Am I gay?

For him I am.

The two men stared at each other.

Zayne was terrified that he was about to do something stupid.

The look on the man's face said he was praying the piano player would stop him from doing something stupid.

"Get lost," the young man said blankly. He took a sip from his glass but kept his gaze locked on Zayne.

"I already am," Zayne replied with half a grin.

The man slowly spun on his stool and looked up at him.

"Already what?" the stranger asked curiously.

"Lost," Zayne answered, his smile unable to be contained. "In your gorgeous eyes."

The four officers who had moved in closer moaned at their friend's corny pick up line. Zayne waved them off.

"Is Zayne gay?" Elliott asked in shock.

Jonah chuckled into his beer glass. "He is tonight!"

All four men burst out laughing, drawing Zayne's attention back to them.

Hearing Zayne's pathetic attempt at flirting, the man at the bar choked on his last gulp, nearly spraying his drink all over the bar.

"Oh god! I'm so sorry!" Zayne apologized as he gathered a few napkins from the stack on the bar and handed them to the stranger. He patted the coughing man's back gently hoping he wasn't about to get punched.

For a second, Zayne thought he imagined a smile on the gorgeous man's lips. However, the subtle change vanished quicker than it appeared. In its place was an angry glare and a warning.

"It's okay. I'm fine." the young man snapped. "But, you really do need to leave. I'm not interested. Sorry."

"I...I can't," Zayne said weakly.

Everything around him was beginning to blur beyond recognition. Standing here, next to this perfect man that exuded sex like a god, his body was reacting in ways he never imagined. His ears hummed with the man's deep voice. Fingers that had danced across piano keys now itched to run through the stranger's thick dark hair.

And he...

He wanted.

"Sure you can. Just walk back to your friends over there and forget you ever met me." the man said with a tiny nod towards the four men laughing like hyenas a few feet away.

"I...I can't."

"Why not?"

"Well, see...if I don't come back with a phone number, my friend over there is going to post a video of me playing the piano on a dating site. And, that was more frightening than coming over here and talking to you."

The man sighed. His pale saffron eyes softened.

"Fine. What kind of man would I be if I didn't help a guy out when his friends blackmail him?"

"A very sexy one," Zayne blurted out drunkenly.

The stranger's eyes shot up and met Zayne's glossy gray ones. There was a hunger in their golden depths that ignited a spark in Zayne's heart. His knees felt weak and his face felt like it was on fire. He couldn't look away no matter how hard he tried.

Zayne stood there like a deer in headlights as the young man waggled his fingers asking for his cell phone. When he failed to respond, the man let out a long sigh and reached into Zayne's back pocket to pull out his phone.

"Code," the handsome stranger commanded.

Zayne's drunk mind was still reeling from the sensation of having a hand on his ass. But not just any hand. His hand. A hot blush bloomed on his cheeks and his entire body was engulfed with a feverish heat.

He suddenly realized that he wanted...more.

The man swiped his thumb up the phone screen and brought it up to Zayne's face to unlock it. His fingers efficiently typed in his number and pressed the call button. After one ring, he hung up and placed the phone back in Zayne's pocket.

"There. You have it. Now get lost," he said and turned back to rest his elbows on the wooden bar.

Zayne moved away. Why was he hoping the man in the hot as hell outfit would grope him like a cheap hooker? Why did he want more than just a hand in his pocket? More than just a few words between them?

Returning to his friends where high fives and fist bumps awaited him, Zayne's smile brightened as the group headed for the dance floor. While his companions searched for pretty girls to dance with, Zayne had only one thing on his mind. Or at least, only one person.

As the group of five moved around the large area of flashing colored lights and writhing mass of people, the thump of the bass of the club music had Zayne moving unconsciously with the music. Before he knew it, he was caught up in the crowd and lost in the middle of the dance floor. Alone and without his friends.

He looked for them but they were all spread out, each trying to connect with a female of their choice. The women around Zayne started grinding against him and running their hands all over his body. He tried to avoid their advances politely, offering them a quick smile and shake of his head. Some took the hint. But two women in particular just thought he was just too sweet and doubled their efforts to be next to him.

Even drunk, Zayne knew this was not what he wanted. It was too much. Too many hands. Too many unwanted touches. He kept trying to make his way off the dance floor but the crowd was so dense every escape route that appeared vanished before he could wriggle through it. The pulsating lights blinded him. His mind was reeling and he prayed for someone to save him.

Just as Zayne felt his legs about to give out, HE was standing there. A strong arm wrapped around his waist and steadied him. Another one slid up Zayne's back until a large hand cupped the base of his tottering head. With a gentle tightening, the bad boy kept him upright, pulling Zayne impossibly closer until they stood chest to chest.

"Only what you're comfortable with," the sexy man in the leather jacket said. His voice was resolute and firm, his light amber eyes never wavering.

Zayne nodded. The world around him spun. His voice was locked somewhere inside his throat. The arms holding him were forceful yet tender. And for the first time in months, he felt safe, protected. As if this man in front of him would never let anyone or anything hurt him.

The song shifted, the bass beat pounding loud and fast. Both men began swaying, their eyes locked in a hypnotic gaze. They moved slowly, their bodies ignoring the quicker pace the people dancing around them shifted into. Multi-colored lights flashed around them but the two men in the middle of the dance floor didn't notice.

The young man's hips moved effortlessly as he guided Zayne carefully through the jostling crowd. Everytime someone bumped into them, the stranger's arms cinched around him tighter. Not even a strand of hair could have passed between them yet Zayne longed to be closer.

"I thought you said to get lost. You weren't interested," Zayne slurred.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. He wanted so badly to stare into those warm honey orbs forever. They made everything else fade to the background. Zayne lost himself in their endless shimmering depths. Their golden facets sparked with such intense desire that his body trembled with need.

At that moment, Zayne knew he would never deny this man anything.

"Nǐ shì wǒ de."

"What?" the man asked with a puzzled look.

Zayne froze.

Shit! Shit!! Shit!!!! What the hell is wrong with me?!

With a cute smile and a huff, the stranger replied, "Just because I look Chinese doesn't mean I speak it."

Zayne attempted to put space between him and his savior but apparently the stranger holding him was a descendant of Hercules. His arms were like steel vices, unbreakable and immovable. As they moved to the hypnotic bass of the music, Zayne surrendered himself to the protective embrace he found himself trapped in.

"I'm not," the young man answered with a half-smile. "I just have this hero complex and....well, you seemed to need saving."

"You're not what?"

"Interested. However, now that I have you..."

Without warning, Zayne felt a muscular leg push between his wobbly ones. A faint whimper hummed in his throat at the intense sensation. He smiled, a small giggle escaping through his lips. Relaxing into the man's hold, he snaked his arms around the man's thick neck. The cologne the stranger wore filled his nostrils, his insides softening with each deep inhale. It was natural, simple, yet intoxicatingly sexy.

"I'm Bodie."

"Zayne."

Lost to the effects of the alcohol flooding his body, Zayne let the tip of his moist tongue peek out from between his lips. It licked the top one before curling over the bottom one, then disappearing seductively behind two front teeth that bit down on the now glistening plush flesh. Shivers of ecstasy rippled through him as he watched the deliberate rise and fall of his dance partner's prominent Adam's apple.

"Don't do that," Bodie growled.

"Do what?" Zayne taunted and bit his bottom lip again.

"That. Don't do it," Bodie warned, his voice edged with danger. His eyes could not stop staring at the sexy mole just under Zayne's bottom lip.

The whiskey was now in full control of Zayne's libido.

"Why?" he asked with a devilish innocence.

Bodie grabbed his head and tilted it down the tiniest bit until their foreheads met.

"Because...I've been wanting to do that all night."

"What's stopping you?"

Bodie moved his head to the side and murmured in Zayne's ear. "I want my dates to remember what I do to them. It's no fun if they forget how I turned them into a writhing mess on my bed while I pleasured every inch of their body until they climaxed screaming my name."

Images of Bodie naked, his sweaty body thrusting slowly filled Zayne's mind. A deep moan tore itself from his chest, his own body tensing as the world slipped away. His eyes became too heavy to open, his legs too weak to fully support him.

He held onto Bodie as if his life depended on it. And maybe it did. The world around him was becoming a jumbled mess of overstimulation. Nothing made sense anymore. Yet in Bodie's embrace, Zayne felt strangely safe. Somehow he knew this man he had just met would not let any harm come to him.

Unable to hold on any longer, Zayne let his mind drift into the oblivion of intoxication, protectively enfolded in Bodie's arms.

"Love that we cannot have is the one that last the longest. Hurts the deepest, and feels the strongest." -- Unknown