You met Tony when he was fresh into Manhattan, he worked as a part-time waiter ar the nightclub you were a regular of.

You chatted with him for a quick moment when he brought you your drink, discovered he was a dance instructor aswell and introduces yourself as a dancer, too. You exchanged numbers and agreed to talk sometime.

It was amusing to you, coming to the club and watching all the girls swooning over him, some of them even commenting on the way he walked. And even more amusing seeing Tony turn down each and every of them, contrary to what he used to do back in Brooklyn —when he took every girl he could to bed. ~He even told a girl that excused her interest on him by saying "good boys are hard to find" to go search for them in the army.~

He was still a bit of a macho, the toxic masculinity doesn't go away in just a few years. The sexism he flaunted when he was 19 long gone now, yet he still had the doominering way of treating women as if they were dumb —his cute face made up for It, though.

Still, despite being more mature and all, he was just a man and when he's dancing with a girl as gorgeous as you to such a hot song, well, things are bound to happen.

You were helping him perfectionate his routine for the play he was going to do soon, Satan's Alley, and It was quite the.. intense routine.

Barely three hours of sleep, a hot girl and a sensual dance routine were just the combination that would make him pop a boner the quickest. You noticed, of course, when a man is both sleep-deprived and horny, he wasn't exactly subtle.

You're still wondering when is Tony going to notice that you aren't dancing anymore, just swaying with his body pressed up close. His black hair is messyly falling over his angelic blue eyes, his head on your shoulder as you away your hips against his.

He hears you say something and his hands give the slightest squeeze to your hips. "..mnh?" he mumbled into the skin of your shoulder, clearly half-asleep ~turned on aswell~.