Nightclub Ventures

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It's their long-awaited first time.
1.8k words
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Andrew is vaguely amused they've taken to frequenting the nightclub. He doesn't even remember when it started. Maybe he and Darrin met randomly here once. Maybe he kept returning hoping to see Darrin again and his efforts were rewarded. And then it may have become habit for them to drop by every so often, until it became a regular occurrence and they had developed a routine without knowing it.

That's how Darrin finds Andrew – sitting there with this look upon his face that might be contemplation but seemed to be more closely related to confusion. He steps close, invading his personal space but Andrew doesn't seem to care, even as Darrin swipes his drink from him and drinks it. It tastes of alcohol, of course, but it might also taste like Andrew and strangely Darrin finds himself seeking that particular taste. He doesn't find it there, and he huffs his disapproval as he plants the glass back down.

"What's up with you?" Andrew grumbles out.

"Nothing," Darrin answers but Andrew doesn't need to look at him to know it's a lie falling from those lips. He can smell something that clings to Darrin like a ghost, a dark and primitive thing that has been haunting Darrin's mind and actions for days now. It's changed the way Darrin looks at Andrew, the way he moves and the way he stands there now, with his head cocked to one side. Or maybe that's just because Darrin's considering Andrew with all his attention.

"Come with me," Darrin says and it's a command, a thing that is unusual for Andrew to hear from Darrin. Unusual enough that it warrants further investigation, piques Andrew's curiosity enough that he does get up from the bar and follows Darrin toward the back of the club.

There are private rooms at the back, accessible by navigating a series of corridors. The rooms are denoted by neon signs that hang suspended in darkness, casting their eerie glow of 'vacant' or 'occupied'. They're a free-for-all, first in best dressed arrangement and most of them by this time are taken, but Darrin finds one and once they enter the room Darrin locks the door and they know the bright red neon of 'vacant' has switched to the blaze of blue signifying the room is taken.

All the rooms are lavishly decorated, a pool table having pride of place in the middle and an array of chairs and tables occupying the rest of the room. Different for each room and yet all the same in essence.

Andrew watches Darrin close that door and again he has a perplexed expression on his face as the door is locked.

"We're not expecting anyone else?" he asks, wondering why the fuck Darrin's decided a pool room would make a good place for the two of them to talk business when a booth would have done the job just as well.

"Not tonight," Darrin answers and he can't help the way his voice has become a husky thing full of desire and Andrew knows now what ghost Darrin has been carrying with him. He knows it well when Darrin's lips crush against his own – he can almost taste lust upon Darrin's lips, feel it in the way Darrin's hands move in clumsy, greedy motions. He grabs, clutches, falters, and Andrew isn't sure Darrin even knows what he wants right now – just wishing to satisfy the desire to hold and have.

Darrin draws back from that kiss, their first, and it was a brutal thing that leaves Andrew's lips swollen and Darrin breathless. Andrew watches Darrin's eyes, hungry and roving, drinking in the sight of Andrew's freshly-kissed face in and it's Andrew's turn now to take a kiss, his hands rising to capture Darrin's face as his lips capture Darrin's.

This time the kiss is softer, initiated by Andrew and directed by him, and he sweeps his tongue in lazy, languid motions that swipe over Darrin's lower lip, luxuriating in his taste and savoring him as if Andrew's always wanted to taste him. Always wanted to know how he tastes, how he moves against him and they step, Darrin moving backward under Andrew's gentle guidance.

Darrin's hands continue to roam in an aimless fashion, tugging at Andrew's clothing like it's some sort of annoying barrier and Andrew isn't sure if the groan that rolls between them has come from him or Darrin. He captures it regardless of who it came from, swallowing it greedily and he hates the way they have to part to tear their clothes off.

Andrew doesn't care if his buttons pop off, if he rips at the seams of his shirt. He doesn't care that Darrin has to take a moment to toe off his shoes and he kicks them off into the room. Andrew hears them hit the wall, hit something but he doesn't care where they are – he only cares that Darrin's hands are at his belt and his fingers have grown clumsy with yearning. He fumbles, and Andrew helps him find purchase, work the belt free.

Impatient hands dip below the waistline of Andrew's boxers and warm hands find Andrew, take hold of him and rub just so, working him to hardness. Andrew wants more than this though, more than Darrin's hands on his cock and his lips pressed against his neck. He wants more than just feeling himself grow hard in Darrin's hands, he wants to be buried in Darrin, engulfed by him, surrounded by him.

Now it's Andrew's turn to have hands that refuse to work when his body is drugged by lust, hands made unresponsive by Darrin's own administrations. But he works Darrin's belt loose, travels the zip down and his hands glide down the curve of Darrin's back, palms hungry to learn the line of his body. His hands turn needy as they slide Darrin's pants off and Andrew presses kiss after kiss upon Darrin's lips as he guides him to step out of his jeans.

Andrew's hands roam, fingertips tracing as they traverse over the plains of Darrin's chest, trailing scars that mar his skin and Andrew cannot fight the urge to dip his head and press the most gentle of kisses upon those scars. He feels the way Darrin's hands hesitate as those scars are adored, feels the way Darrin's hands abandon Andrew's cock and instead cling, pulling Andrew closer to him like he's in need of an anchor, needing to find a more tolerable key.

Andrew feels the way his hardness presses against Darrin's belly, feels the way Darrin's own cock presses against the underside of Andrews', presses at his balls and Andrew can't help but roll his hips forward, arch against Darrin and he adores the way Darrin hisses out at the friction when Andrew tilts his hips just so.

Andrew allows Darrin to tear himself away, hating how his body aches for Darrin's as soon as they part but it's not for long – Darrin tears open a drawer and rummages, a bottle of lube found and Andrew follows him. Darrin smears the stuff over his hands, warming the gel and then he wraps his hands around Andrew, tearing a gasp from his lips as Darrin pulls, coating Andrew thick with the stuff. Darrin puts it on his own cock, covering them both but Andrew's determined. It shows in the look in his eyes once Darrin's finished, and Darrin reads the desire and resolve clear in his gaze.

Andrew doesn't care where they go, and it ends up that he pushes Darrin forward onto an armchair. Darrin braces his hands upon the back of the chair and shivers as Andrew peppers kisses upon his back, as hands slide downward and pull at Darrin, tugging his cock. He toys with Darrin's balls, rolling them lazily in his palm and then fingers push at Darrin, touching at his entrance and although they're gentle at first they soon become forceful, pushing at constrictive muscle and inching their way inside.

It pushes a hiss from Darrin as he tries to relax into that invasive touch, trying to accommodate large fingers that are driven by lust more than consideration. And then they are taken out, and Darrin can feel the way Andrew comes closer against him, can feel the heat rolling out in waves from his body, can feel the way his cock bumps against his thigh before Andrew guides himself into Darrin.

Andrew pushes against Darrin, and eventually Darrin's body gives in, allows him to enter and it's a slow slide of bodies against one another, of Darrin's body adjusting to Andrew's size. The thickness of him is intoxicating, leaving Darrin breathless as Andrew moves into him inch by slow inch. It feels close to forever before Andrew peppers kisses across Darrin's shoulders again, before Andrew's hands drag down from Darrin's hips and slide up his stomach. Fingertips quest upward, shift downward, curl into pubic hair, touch at Darrin's erection, and they both gasp together when Andrew begins to move against Darrin in slow, steady motions that are tentative at first, experimental shifts of his hips that cause Darrin to shudder beneath him, around him.

Andrew closes his eyes against it, can feel the way he shivers within Darrin, sheathed by muscle and warmth and he can feel the way Darrin arches back into him, sinks against him, buries him involuntarily to the hilt.

Darrin's name falls from Andrew's lips, silent at first but finally given voice as they move against one another, skin slick and movements cautious. Andrew can feel the way Darrin surges back, wanting more, wanting it harder, deeper, faster, but Andrew's hands steady Darrin's hips, hold him as still as possible. They'll do this at his pace, go the speed he wants them to. They'll take this slow, take it easy, savor every moment.

At least, that's the plan.

It fails when Andrew comes after nearly withdrawing all the way out of Darrin, held inside him just barely, before he glides back into Darrin's body, easily engulfed by him, welcomed into him and at the finish of that stroke Andrew feels the way his balls lift and tighten before he comes. He feels the way his cock spasms within Darrin, held tight by those muscles and he feels both relief and shame as he quivers inside Darrin, emptying himself.

When he slips out of Darrin he doesn't raise his gaze to meet Darrin's questioning one thrown over his shoulder. He doesn't look Darrin in the eye when Darrin pivots and sits upon the armchair. He doesn't look at Darrin when Darrin reaches for him, hands clasping Andrew's own and dragging him forward. Darrin reaches up, hands cupping Andrew's face and he draws him downward, a gentle kiss placed upon Andrew's lips. It's chaste, simple and adoring, that kiss. And it tells Andrew that he's perfect.

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AnonymousAnonymousover 13 years ago

Really liked that, well done

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