Music blasted through the speakers and fluorescent hippy cliché's glowed garishly under black-lights on the walls. Franky's, a grungy nightclub on the edge of the city centre still had a reputation for being a bit of a dive, where you could possibly have the night of your life, if you didn't mind sticky floors, the possibility of your wallet being nicked and rude bar staff. David had first patronised the establishment about a decade and a half ago, and now, in the midst of a 90's rave, he felt old. At thirty-two he was the youngest member of his group of friends but a head above the rest of the clientele. He looked out into the sea of under-age club goers in acid-house smiley-face caps, tie-die vests and giant neon dummies on strings; an ironic celebration of a time gone by, when he was their age, too young to legally get on the premises, pretending to know the tunes his older friends cheered at, astounded at how incredible life was, and these people were, and this place was and how he really believed that and it wasn't just the E talking.
A boy of about seventeen barged into Dave's friend Rachel spilling her drink down her top, "Sorry mate!" Said the boy, bleached hair on his head, dilated pupils, an odd set to his jaw; "Fuck, your glasses are amazing..." he continued on his way.
Dave wondered how long they were going to continue pretending to be enjoying themselves before they gave up and went home to their respective tastefully decorated houses.
"I'm going for a piss" he shouted into the disinterested ear of another of his friends.
Pushing his way through the crowd, Dave found a faint sense of nostalgia from the familiar, damp heat of the crowd, but felt impatient with the bouncing, attractive bodies blocking his path. What was supposed to be a fun trip down memory lane had turned into a slightly depressing reminder of times past and a bygone age of responsibility-free clubbing and recreational drug use, house parties before people owned their own carpets and before anyone cared about maintaining good public relations with their middle-aged neighbours.
He'd reached the bathroom now, starkly bright in contrast to the darkness of the dance floor, the music a dampened hum rattling the mirror. He couldn't help but smile at the nonchalant queue of posh students waiting for the toilet cubicles and a single frustrated youth standing at the trough but not pissing. He smiled at the babbling conversations of rich lads who were off their head, but was distracted from his eves dropping when he heard a rough accent swearing its way into the bathroom.
"Fucking posh twats, aye I'm sure all of you's need a fucking shite, hah!" The lad stumbled up to the urinal and slumped over it, forearm on the wall. His aggressive tone sounded out of place in the ecstasy induced positivity. This lad was drunk, slumped over the urinal struggling slightly with his zip, Dave couldn't help but look down at the cock flopping out in his hand that the lad absent-mindedly swayed from side to side as he pissed.
"I hate fucking students me." Dave jumped slightly as he realised the boy was talking directly to him, though he delayed putting himself away in order to continue the conversation, the lad was fit, in a chavy sort of way, and Dave welcomed the honest conversation, "are you a student?" The lad looked at him confrontationally and Dave burst out laughing, he'd made his mind up, he liked this kid. "Not for a few years mate."
He resumed looking down at the cock as the boy finished.
Dave stood in front of the stainless steel trough a few minutes longer as the lad shook himself dry, the flaccid weight of his dick proving he wasn't on pills. He stumbled back slightly when he was finished and thrust his hand out to shake David's, who did his best not to wonder if the dampness was sweat or urine. 'You're alright you, mate' slurred the lad, he was shorter than Dave, skinny in a navy jumper with checked shirt collar sticking out, his cropped dark hair was still spiked slightly despite the sweat and he was good looking with his droopy eyes and cocky attitude. As he barged his way past to exit the bathroom Dave noticed with a smile that his fly was still undone.
After washing his hands chatting briefly with a floppy haired lad in skinny jeans and an expensive tee-shirt that was six times too big (must be the look these days) David began elbowing his way through the crowd in a somewhat better mood than before, the music was jumping and he paused briefly to dance with a girl who bumped into him and help an over-weight man who was dressed as a pimp and had slipped. His friends weren't anywhere around the spot he'd left them at, or at the bar. He checked the smoking area but they were nowhere to be seen. 'Bastards ditched me!' He muttered to himself. He considered sticking about to dance by himself when a shy FX track he'd forgotten he loved came on, but in the end he just grabbed his jacket and went outside to join the taxi queue.
He was nearing the front of the queue when he heard a racket behind him from the exit, the bouncer was shoving someone out into the Tarmac, the much smaller body skidded on the floor still swinging punches 'fuck you ya fat cunt!' It was the lad he'd met in the bathroom, he was bouncing up and getting in the door-mans face but the huge figure in black had the lads cheek against the wall and his arm twisted half way up his back in a matter of seconds, muttering something threatening in his hear, the boy was shouting something about his wallet being inside as he staggered off, Dave half thought about trying to catch his eye but thought better of it as he heard him begin a drunken rant at a stranger in line behind him, and besides, he was at the front of the queue now an a taxi was edging towards him. He crawled in and gave his address, the car was just about to pull out when the door opened and the lad crashed in, 'Mate, do us a favour and let us cadge a lift, cunts kicked me out without my wallet... Arr it's you!' The lad was shaking his hand and the taxi driver, who'd paused the vehicle was looking at David through the rear view mirror, Dave nodded and the vehicle moved on.
'Alright, where do you live then?' He asked, feeling mildly annoyed but enjoying the sight of the larch of the boy's thigh through dark jeans. The lad got half way through mumbling an address in a rough part of town in the opposite direction to Dave's flat before realisation washed over his face and he flopped his head back against the seat; 'My keys are in there too. Fuck.' The taxi sped on and Dave tried to find a solution to the boy's predicament, was there anyone at home to let him in? No, his dad would kick the shit out of him. Could he ring his mates? No, his phone was dead. Could Dave ring his mates,? No he only knew Garry's number and he was off shagging Clara and wouldn't answer his phone. Dave's offer for the lad (he'd found out he was called Darren by this point) to stop at his place was, he assured himself, purely out of a sense of social conscience.
An hour later and the lad was spread out next to David on the sofa, swigging red wine from a wineglass he looked uncomfortable holding, every time he gulped a mouthful down he winced slightly. By now Dave had found out that Darren was nineteen, worked at a supermarket and had just broken up with his ex-girlfriend Sophie, which was okay `cos she was a 'fucking-nutcase-bitch anyway'.
Darren was, to all intents and purposes, a twat. He was foul mouthed, arrogant, demanding, probably a bit mental, but David couldn't help but feel a certain affection for him; he was honest and funny, charming in a way. As the night wore on he got more and more drunk, slurring every word in a ten minute monologue about his new flat screen TV, blinking slower with his dark eyelashes, head flopping from side to side as he spoke.
David himself felt flushed from the wine he sipped, he hadn't noticed himself edging closer to Darren or when their thighs had come into contact, but he couldn't help but enjoy the heightened sense of touch and the quickening of his heartbeat as Darren's weight began to slouch against his own.
Then again, Darren was practically paralytic, his head was nodding drowsily and his eyes were half closed, he looked very young all of a sudden in his sport socks, with an empty wineglass held horizontally in a limp hand, 'Maybe you should get to bed.' David said taking the glass from him, Darren just grunted and began clumsily pulling his jumper over his head, he managed to get himself stuck and David had to help him out of it.
Darren's fingers groped helplessly at his shirt buttons, his breathing was noisy and he hiccupped every so often. David began unbuttoning the shirt for him, Darren's hands still fumbled limply at the buttons even as David moved them out of the way, his skin was warm, David's hands were sweating. Pulling the fabric over Darren's shoulders Dave exposed a tanned, smooth chest and dark nipples. Darren mustered the energy to sit up in order to pull the shirt off behind him then slumped back on the sofa, eyes closed.
David felt a pang in his stomach somewhere between excitement and guilt, as despite his better judgment and moral compass he placed a hand hesitantly on the teenager's chest. Darren didn't react, David felt the heart pulse under warm skin, his hand wandered across the smooth flesh and his heart leapt to his mouth when Darren mumbled something incomprehensible and shifted his weight. 'Darren, are you awake?' He shook him gently and Darren placed a hand on his, without opening his eyes. David drew closer and, holding his breath leaned in to kiss Darren's passive lips, Darren's eyes half opened, his lips half smiled, David took this as a go ahead and kissed him more fully, lips parted slightly to let David's tongue slip into Darren's hot mouth. His eyes remained closed, as did his smile as David tentatively unbuckled the lads belt and gently pushed his hand into the jeans to cup the warm fabric surrounding Darren's bulge, he squeezed the yielding flesh beneath the cotton, he couldn't get the image of Darren pissing out of his head, the flaccid cock, big in his hand, before Dave knew it he was pulling the jeans off of Darren's unresisting body, he nearly pulled him off the sofa as he slipped the denim over buttocks and thighs but he noticed the way Darren lifted his own weight up ever so slightly to help things along, his eyes remained closed though, David's eyes roamed over the hairy legs, sport socks, white underwear, 'Fuck it', he thought to himself as he lowered his own weight over the unmoving body, pushed his crotch into Darren's, kissed around ears and neck, touched dark, moist lips with the tips of his fingers and groaned as the mouth opened to let his fingers slip inside. David could feel stiffening beneath the cotton of Darren's underwear, he could feel the boys breath quickening.
David stood up and took off his own jeans and shirt, his erection pushing through his briefs. He lay down by Darren and began to slip his hand inside the lad's humid underwear, feeling his sweaty balls and semi.
Suddenly Darren jerked into a sitting position, 'What the fuck?' he slurred pushing David's hand away, his unfocused eyes looked angrily up, 'Fucking faggot.' Dave moved over to the other chair in horror, and tried to stutter an apology but Darren was mumbling to himself as he lay back down with his eyes closed.
'Fuck' Dave said to the world in general, his heart pounding in his chest, he poured the last of the wine into the glass and downed it, sitting there with his head in his hands for some time before he heard Darren getting up clumsily and stumbling out of the room with his eyes half closed.
Cautiously Dave followed him into the kitchen to find him standing in a corner, one arm resting on the wall the other hand fumbling around his crotch, his underwear fell to his ankles and Dave realised too late he was taking a piss on the floor. He jumped into action grabbing Darren by the shoulders and pulling him over to the bin, without thinking he reached round to grab the lads dick once more to guide the stream, the weight of Darren's body slumped against his.
There was piss all over his hand and all over the floor, when Darren was finished he guided him back to the sofa, kicking himself for getting into this ridiculous situation.
Darren's boxers had been abandoned on the kitchen floor, David pulled off the wet socks from Darren's feet, now he was completely naked, sprawled out and snoring on the sofa. David went back to the kitchen, head swimming as much with adrenalin as from alcohol and began mopping the floor. When this was done he drank a pint of water to try and clear his head and wondered numbly if he should try and put some underwear on Darren before he woke up. David realised he was essentially trying to cover up the evidence of having basically molested a straight, possibly homophobic teenager who then pissed all over his kitchen.
Exhausted he walked back into the living room with the cunning plan of throwing a blanket over him and hoping for the best, but only found a vacant sofa, the pile of Darren's clothes and a vomit stain on the cushion, 'Fucking liability.' He muttered, looking out of the window onto the street, no sign, he went to the bathroom where his toothbrush was on the floor then to the bedroom to find Darren naked and face down on the bed, his buttocks sprinkled with dark hair.
Dave tried to ignore the twinge between his own legs, all He wanted to now do was kick this kid out of his house, crawl between these sheets and forget this whole farce ever happened. He grabbed the round of Darren's shoulder and shook him, getting an irritable moan in response. He pulled the inert form of the boy over onto his back and as he rolled over Darren opened both his eyes as well as his legs, exposing his hairy genitals and a little of his crack. David felt panic rising in his stomach as once again the boy came back to semi-consciousness to find David in some incriminating position above him with, Dave realised too late, an erection. Before Dave could splutter out an excuse Darren reached up with a lazy hand and placed it on Dave's neck. He mumbled something, gently tugging on Dave's neck to bring him closer 'Are you gonna fuck me mate?' 'What?' 'Are you gonna fuck me or what?' 'You're drunk' 'Yeah.' Their faces were inches apart now, and Darren's slim legs were wrapping around Dave's body, his eyes were half closed, the thick lashes blinking slowly, Dave looked down at his naked body, after this whole ordeal he was completely bewildered, drunk and ridiculously horny, for all his antics Darren looked exquisite, looking up with docile trust, Dave's erection now pressing into his crotch, 'Fuck me mate' Within seconds Dave was as naked as the lad in front of him, rolling on a condom, and dribbling lube over himself, Darren's eyes were closed again but his legs were still held wide and inviting and within the thick dark nest if pubic hair his prick was expanding though still resting on his toned thigh.
Not willing to make the same mistake again Dave have another gentle shake of the shoulder; 'You still awake Darren' he nodded in reply so Dave slipped lubed fingers into the dark crack below the sagging balls below him, found the soft hole and rubbed, pressing a finger into the firmness for which he received a quiet moan, as his fingers popped though the tight barrier he moaned himself, feeling the heat inside the boy's body.
For while he enjoyed the sensation of pushing his fingers in and out, feeling around for the vague bulge of Darren's prostate and smiling at the quiet whimpers he got in return.
Soon the head of his dick was pressing in the same warm spot, the gentle pressure he applied was only met with taut muscle, Darren's hand moved to his cock and he lifted his foot to rest on Dave's chest, though his eyes were still closed, it triggered Dave's memories of the night behind them; What the fuck... Fucking faggot, piss in the kitchen and vomit on the sofa. Dave pushed harder against the muscles and felt them give way, Darren's eyes were open now and looking at him questioningly. With none of the normal courtesy he showed when inside a man, Dave clenched his teeth and pushed firmly into Darren's body enjoying the tight feeling of muscles that were not yet relaxed, Darren's eyes widened and his shoulders tensed up, his red lips in a silent `oh'. Dave began a slow thrusting rhythm, sliding in and out of Darren who made a few noises, eyes still open, a frown playing over his dark brow, his hand squeezing and rubbing his cock. His anus was tight around Dave, who took hold of his ankles as he fucked him even harder, Darren was rubbing his large dick in earnest now and David, with inhibitions a million miles away rutted away into the boy, muttering obscene sentences at the teenager below him who by now was biting his lip and moaning. David gripped Darren's shoulders so he could pull the young body into him as he thrust, giving a satisfying slap with each impact of his hips on Darren's buttocks. Feeling his climax approaching Dave ruthlessly pulled his cock out of the boy with a wet sound and a yelp, peeled the condom off and crawling up to the top of the bed stuffed his dick into Darren's mouth, with a few thrusts into the wet warmth and his hands gripping smooth cheeks, he began to come. Darren's bloodshot eyes met his own, choking and swallowing the result of a long night of lust and worry.
Dave collapsed on the bed, Darren, apparently giving up on a lost cause, stopped masturbating and rolled onto Dave, a hairy, toned leg crossed the older man's body, a limp arm rested on Dave's chest and with a weak smile Darren nuzzled into his counterpart, seemingly falling immediately unconscious. Dave smiled at the sound of a wet fart coming from Darren and stared at the ceiling, not even attempting to process the nights events, cradling the sleeping teenager and absently wondering what the fuck he would say to him when the morning came.
He needn't have worried about that. When he woke up the bed was empty, he staggered downstairs, head thumping, to find the pile of Darren's clothes gone, including the wet socks. He checked his wallet and felt guilty when he found it hadn't been ransacked, and when he went into the kitchen he found Darren's underwear stuck to the fridge with magnets, there was a note too saying 'CHEERZ FOR LETTING ME KIP. D X' Dave half smiled, half winced as he took the stained, still damp pants and threw them into the washing machine. It occurred to him he hadn't seen his phone, back in the living room he found it on the mantel piece, the contacts screen was open, and Darren's number had been added. There were also a few texts from his friends apologising for leaving him an asking how his night was.
He refrained from replying.