Some Things Went Awry

BY : SweetLoot & Manta_Ghost
Category: Original - Misc > -Threesomes/Moresomes
Dragon prints: 499
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblence to a real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work.

Short little thing that is in no way connected to my fantasy world. Just porn, honestly.

 

This wasn't what David had come here for today, not at all. What he had come for was a good drink, or a couple, and the beating rhythm that drowned out the noises from the world outside. Just a few hours of relief from the nightmare, solace in alcohol and music. That was all he had wanted. And yet, he had quickly found himself pushed up against a wall, half hidden from the crowd on the dance floor, a hot tongue battling with his for dominance, a low groan in his chest. A hand skirted up his thigh, settling on his hip, large and warm. There was no way he should let this happen, not with a stranger and not in a corner of a nightclub. That wasn't who he was, what he did, but here he was and he found that he had absolutely no strength to fight himself. His body took over the show entirely, and it wasn't about to let his brain have a say in the proceedings.

"Shit." He breathed as the hand slid to his crotch, cupping him and squeezing. He was so hard already, and he couldn't stop jerking up against the touch. It was ridiculous, it was potentially dangerous, and it was intoxicating. The hand disappeared, hips pressed into his, and an equally hard length pushed against his. Oh yeah, and there was that as well. All of his previous partners had been women for some reason, even though he couldn't deny being attracted to some men either. He'd just never taken up any offer. It hadn't been in his wildest imagination that the day he would take up that offer, it would be in a damp, dark, far too hot nightclub with music pounding almost painfully in his ear and a complete fucking stranger rubbing against him. Ridiculous.

He couldn't see, in the poor lighting in the dark corner, the man's facial features, but it didn't matter. The less he saw, the better it was. This was all about pleasure, about release. There was no need to see this stranger, because he would likely never see him again. They'd go on their separate ways once this was over, continue their lives in a quickly changing world. Outside, the Plague was wrecking havoc amongst people, mutants continued popping up, and everything was going to shit. In here, that was all ignored, pushed to the back of the mind in a desperate attempt to carry on as normal. There was nothing about consuming this much alcohol and dancing until you could dance no more that was normal. But it didn't matter in the moment, when his zipper was being pulled open and buttons popped, a hand pressing inside to grab his cock. He wheezed, breath knocked out of him at the surprising intensity of that touch sliding up his length, teasing the head. Too long, his brain told him. He'd denied himself this kind of touch from another human for too long.
"Jesus." He gasped, rolling his hips against that touch. A deep chuckle rumbled against his neck.
"Close, but no." The other man said, deep, deep, voice shooting straight down David's spine.
"Fuck." He fumbled with the man's zipper, getting it open and pulling his cock out. It was weird, touching another man's cock. He'd touched himself, of course, but touching someone else's junk wasn't the same at all. Feeling the hardness and the heat without actually feeling the touch made his brain reel and roll and struggle to rearrange all his experiences to fit this in. But he powered on, experimentally stroking, feeling a hum against his neck. A mouth latched onto his throat, pushing his head out of the way to lick over his adam's apple and close teeth over his pulse point. He was slowly going mad, knocking his head repeatedly back against the wall in an attempt to stay zane.

Then, instead of a loud thump, there was softness against the back of his head, fingers curling in his hair to prevent him from moving away.
"Don't hurt yourself, baby." A woman's voice whispered against his ear. He shuddered at the breath washing over the sensitive skin behind his ear.
"Buh?" He blurted out, mentally hitting himself for being so very eloquent. The woman snickered, her hand brushing down his chest and abdomen, pressing between them to join the man's hand on David's cock. David moaned, his hips rolling with their rhythm. His brain didn't protest her joining them, in fact, his stomach fluttered at the thought.
"I have an idea, Ryan." The woman said, and the heat against the side of David's body shifted, her arms draping themselves around the man whose name was apparently Ryan, pressing her lips to his ear. Her lips moved, forming words he couldn't hear over the thumping of the music. Ryan's hand on his cock didn't stop, but the rhythm stuttered as he paid attention to what the woman was telling him. David's head lolled back against the wall, and in the strobing light of the club, he caught a glimpse of thick, brown, wavy hair and the flash of an amber eye.

And then Ryan was chuckling and pulling away, leaving David groaning in protest. His protests were cut short, as he was manhandled further into the shadows, finding himself pushed chest first onto a table that had been standing there. Weight settled on his back briefly, a breathless word against his ear that he didn't quite catch. Then his pants were being pulled down around his ankles, and Ryan's cock pressed against his thigh. His heart pounded in his chest at what their current positions suggested. Did he really want this? Did he really want something so intimate in such a place and with a complete stranger? He'd thought about it, before, but his thoughts about it had always seemed to fizz out before he could make up his mind. And now he was here.
"Fuck, don't." He said, reaching behind himself to push against Ryan's thigh. Alright, so he wasn't willing to go this far.
"You worry too much." Ryan chuckled against his shoulder. He groaned, shuddering breath fanning out against David's neck, and David was left puzzled at what had caught that reaction. But then he could feel Ryan's hard shaft against his balls, and slender, cold, hands pressed his thighs together around it. Ryan groaned again, moving gingerly, testing. David had never thought about this posibility, never realized, with his old partners, that this was even an option. It was warm and slippery, and he didn't even want to think about where the slippery part had come from, and it was so, utterly, weird.
"Fucking hell." He breathed as Ryan's cock slid between his thighs, brushing sensitive skin, tickling and sending shivers throughout his body. He grabbed the edges of the table, pressing his cheek against the cool surface.

A mouth was on him suddenly, lips wrapping around his erection, warm, wet, amazing. He was swallowed down, tongue pressing against the underside, until a nose bumped against his crotch. An open mouthed moan was pressed out of his lungs and Ryan sped up his rhythm, hands grasping David's hips for leverage. The mouth on David's cock slid back to the head, sucking, tongue sliding around the ridge.
"Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He gasped, unable to stop the jerk of his hips, finding it encouraged by the slender fingers on his thighs. Once started, he couldn't stop, moving back against the solidness of Ryan's hips, and forward into the softness of the mouth on his own cock. He reached down, touching fingers to the soft skin of a cheek, sliding it inward until he could feel where lips wrapped around him. A hum around him, a breath from his lungs that held so much relief he thought it would set the air on fire. He slid his hand down further, feeling Ryan's cock, pressing his thumb against its side as it slid between his thighs, rewarded with a deep moan, the press of lips against his neck. This was crazy. This was so good. He wished he could see through the table, see the mouth working on his cock, and the glimpse of the hard shaft sliding between his thighs. But he couldn't, and found that in a way, it made it better.
"She's good, huh?" Ryan murmured against his neck. David was only able to moan in reply, feeling Ryan's tongue pass over his skin. "You're great too." He bit down, and David knew that it would leave a mark, wanting to tell him to stop, but it felt so good. So fucking good. He gasped, jerking with his whole body. There was no way he was going to last for long, not like this.

It turned out he was completely right. The lips and tongue on his cock were wicked, fiery, touches designed to spiral him out of control, build him up and tear him down. And there was Ryan, brushing against him, solid mass standing between him and the rest of the club. There was nothing at all that had prepared him for a situation like this, or the pleasure or the strange intimacy. Between the slide of the cock between his thighs, and the mouth on his own, the damn burst on the self-control he had been so proud of before. A painful moan was wrenched out of his throat, his hips stuttered as he spilled into the waiting mouth, feeling it swallow around him. Suddenly he was tired, his legs shaking from the position they were in, and he wanted to release those muscles, give them some reprieve. But Ryan wasn't finished, he realized, and it would be seriously unfair to do that to him now. So he remained where he was, gritting his teeth and focusing on the feeling of hardness sliding between his thighs.
"Good boy." Ryan gasped against him. "Just a little longer." Lips pressed against David's thigh, fingers brushing his skin in an attempt to alleviate the shaking.
"Please." He groaned, his fingers white on the edge of the table.
"God, you're so good." He felt Ryan's rhythm stutter, a puff of breath on his skin, and wetness spreading between his thighs.

Weight settled on his back, a heart pounding in tune with his. He breathed out, released clamped muscles in his thighs, groaning in relief. Then the weight disappeared, and he was being pulled up and turned around, and Ryan kissed him, open mouthed and passionate.
"Fuck." David breathed when Ryan let him go. For a brief moment, all he could do was lean back against the table, trying to get his breathing and muscles under control.
"You should probably pull your pants up." The woman's cheerful voice was right next to his ear, and he hadn't even noticed her coming back up from underneath the table. He looked down, blushing at the spectacle he must be making of himself right now, cock out and pants around his ankles, cum cooling on his thighs and angry red marks across his skin where he had been pushed against the edge of the table. He coughed, bending down and quickly doing up his pants trying to make himself at least a little presentable again. Mortified. Absolutely mortified, he was wide eyed and lost for words. How had he even let this happen? In a crowded club no less. It didn't matter that this was a dark corner, or that people were busy getting shitfaced drunk and dancing their feet of and probably didn't notice their little romp at all. It was the very idea that he had allowed this in the first place that made words lodge in his throat and heat rise in his cheeks. Stupid.
"Hey." Ryan chuckled, reaching a hand forward to place it on David's shoulder. "No harm in a little release, pretty guy." He gave David a crooked smile, withdrawing his hand and turning around to leave. "Thanks." The last he saw of the guy was his back, one hand raised in a gesture of departure. Seriously fucking stupid.
"Have a great night." The woman said, winking at him in a way that gave him the distinct feeling she was thoroughly pleased with herself. She turned to follow Ryan, a sway in her hips that was mesmerizing and titillating even after what had just transpired.
"Wait." David called after her. "What's your name?" What a stupid thing to ask. He was never going to see her again, so it wasn't like it mattered. When she turned back around briefly, she flashed him a genuine smile.
"Mia." And then she was gone too, back out in the dancing crowd, leaving David alone and cold despite the cramped space with far too many people in it. Suddenly he wanted to get out of here, back into fresh air, even with the shit that was going on in the world. There was still cum cooling and stiffening on his skin and the inside of his pants, uncomfortable and disgusting, and he really needed a shower. Gathering a lungfull of stale air, he pushed himself off the table and walked through the crowd toward the entrance, flinging it open to receive the cold air outside. It smelled fresh compared to the inside of the club, and cleared his mind. Huffing a breath that turned into laughter, he leaned against a telephone pole, mentally berating himself for what had just happened, only to have the same voice in his mind tell him that it wasn't that bad for the circumstances.

"That's never happening again." He told the cold night air, walking off, a little less gracefully than he had hoped, toward the relative safety of his hotel room.



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