He wanted to get Scott back to his place, lips falling into his, tight red shirt falling to the floor in the heat of the moment. They probably wouldn't even make it back to their place. They'd probably get halfway there before he had to pull to the side of the road and kiss the living hell out of Scott.

His heart pounded in his chest as he watched Scott talk to Dan, who also looked nice dressed up. Pale blue shirt and black tie, highly contrasting Scott's tight blood-red shirt and cream tie. Dylin swore that damn shirt was made of silk or some soft fabric like that.

He couldn't do anything but stare at Scott, restraining himself from anything drastic, like kissing the ever loving fuck out of him. He tore his eyes from the sight, walking to the refreshment table. He took a glass of water, chugging it. Even when he wasn't looking at Scott, he still remained on his mind. Swallowing thickly, he moved to take a seat at a table close to Scott and Dan, watching Scott again.

A song with a slow tempo-he could see Dan tapping their fingers to the beat-came on, and he got up, walking over. Taking Scott's hand in his, he looked into mossy eyes.

"May I have this dance?" Dan grumbled, walking away.

"Of course, Dyl." He smiled, leading Scott to the open space that served as the dance floor. He placed a hand on Scott's waist, Scott's free hand moving to rest on his shoulder. As they moved, he pulled Scott closer so their chests were pressed together. He leaned up, placing his lips by Scott's ear.

"You're killing my self-restraint in that damn shirt." Scott smirked, tilting his head to look at him.

"That was the point." He pressed his lips to Dylin's momentarily.