It wasn't often that Luke wasn't happy at a party. He never would've thought, four years ago when he entered high school, that he would ever be really at home in this environment, but by now the mingling and the socializing came as naturally to Luke as breathing. He felt at home in this sort of setting, and it was completely unlike Luke to not be having fun at a party. Especially this kind of party. Not that he wasn't having... fun, per se. It was just that he wasn't happy. And it was fucking ridiculous that Lukas Fox wasn't happy at a party.
Obviously, this was all Mao's fault. No, strike that. It was also Wolf's fault. Wolf Conroy fucking Bradstreet and his stupid fucking face. It was an annoyingly attractive face (one of the perks to being openly bi was that Luke could admit this to himself now, not that he liked Wolf like that. Or at all); so attractive that it was threatening. Especially because he'd slept with Mao. Damn him. Being all experienced and shit. And of course Mao was rubbing it in his face right and left. Luke clenched his fists and wondered (not for the first time) if they were really dating. They couldn't be, right? Wolf wasn't the relationship type. If Luke had anything in common with him, it was that. But Mao...
Luke watched the other boy leaving his jacket on the chair and stealing outside, following Mao's movements with his eyes. Maybe he should just... talk to him. Yes. Excusing himself, Luke wove his way through the tables and dancing bodies until he, too, was out the in the courtyard. A quick sweep of the area showed him where Mao was. By himself. Away from Wolf. Good.
Luke advanced, surprisingly stealthy, even in his haste. He really had no idea what he was going to say. It wasn't until Luke had caught hold of Mao's wrist and had twisted him around, backing him into the seclusion of the shadows that Luke realized he didn't particularly want to say anything. Or at least nothing that resembled small talk. Luke was done with that shit. Anger and jealousy (and... maybe something even a little deeper than both) fueled him now, and his mouth was on Mao's before either of them really knew what was happening. Luke's power pressed the other boy against the wall, keeping him from squirming away (or... kicking him in nuts or something), and it wasn't until several minutes had passed that Luke drew away enough to speak.
"What the hell, Mao," he breathed. His tone might've been angry if he hadn't at least begun to sate that particular impulse in his kisses. "Just because I won't jitterbug with you you gotta go all dirty dancing with him?"