9 ✓3 - Night Candy

An hour passed in a whirl of flashing lights, sweaty bodies, heavy drinking and the increasing exhilaration of dancing. Preston and Derek didn't stay long together. Other guys intercepted and they drifted apart, finding potential partners for the night. Derek was drawn to a geeky blonde girly guy with an arse belonging to Nicki Minaj, the famous queen of rap. The boy seemed to be in his early twenties and had pink lips and melting chocolate eyes. Derek was happy and grinding away behind that huge booty as he'd never done before. Preston envied them because the guy he was dancing with was fifty, with greying hair and tobacco-filled breath.

Soon, he managed to get sidetracked by a dark-blonde guy. He was a sleek dancer and was obviously interested in Preston if the hard poking on Preston's hip was anything to go by. Preston loved the feeling of being wanted, being desired, but this boy wasn't what he was looking for tonight.

Sure, he loved dancing and showing off with other twinks, but they weren't even a quarter of his spec. He'd always fancied older guys with lean frames, a mix of bad boy genes and flaming red hair. Derek teased him for being so picky with guys and went ahead to remind him each time that with the way he was taking this lifestyle, he might end up with someone much worse due to frustration and loneliness, and right now he believed it. His parents left a big dent in their parenting, always up and about one business trip or conference meeting at all times so Preston spent a better part of his life alone with a nanny, hunched behind his PC playing video games, no friends dropping by to say hi.

But whatever the reason, Preston seemed to fall for almost all the unattainable men there ever was. It wasn't that he did it on purpose, but the guys suited under this category had qualities he'd always desired in his dream man. Of course, he didn't want someone who'd fuck and abuse him...but he fancied guys that were aggressive in bed. A mixture of kink and badass was all he could ask for.

He was on the edge tonight, glancing impatiently over his dance partner's shoulders, hoping to catch sight of Rex again. It was stupid and hopeless because Rex had made it very clear that he wasn't interested but Preston couldn't get him out of his head.

He excused himself from the dance floor and went to the bar. While he was ordering a fresh cup of vodka, a firm hand patted his arse and squeezed, and a deep voice said. "How about I get you an extra drink, hm?" He winked at the barman.

Preston whirled around to check out the guy to who that voice belonged.

Not bad.

Late twenties, light brown hair, clean-shaven and his gestures seemed sexy in some sort of way. He was also lean and tall, and Preston was down for that. Especially when he looked to have a pretty fit body under that yellow, sweat-stained turtleneck shirt.

"Thanks," Preston shot him one of his endearing smiles.

"You're most welcome," The man grinned broadly. "I'm Stefan,"

"Preston," The barman pushed their drinks to them, and Preston raised his. "Cheers," He downed it in one, the burn making his eyes water.

"Fill it up again," Stefan said to the barman. "My babe's thirsty,"

Barely thirty minutes later, Preston was contemplating life. Normally he expected being handled a tad roughly in the club toilets, but Stefan was particularly aggressive. He slammed Preston up against the wall of the stall, not even bothering to shut the door behind them before pushing Preston down to his knees.

"Yeah, babe, it's all yours tonight," He grunted, one hand already undoing his belt buckle as he gripped Preston's hair with the other one. Preston didn't mind his hair being pulled but he enjoyed it more if he made the first move. Truly, he wasn't in the mood tonight. His dick lay flaccid and uninterested in whatever Stefan was up to, and his head was spinning from having too much vodka. That was why he couldn't get an erection.

Let's get this over with, he thought as he reluctantly took Stefan's cock  into his mouth.

He did his best but Stefan was drunk too. After what seemed like an eternity — but was probably only fifteen minutes of Preston pulling out every trick he knew — Stefan didn't even seem close. Preston's throat was burning, his head pounding, his eyes watering and his knees were fucking killing him.

Preston pulled off and wiped the drool away from his lips. "Look, let's be honest here, this shit isn't gonna happen, okay? I'm done. How about we head back to get some drinks and dance a little more?"

In truth, another glass of vodka would be the death of him. All he wanted to do now was go home. He was tired, sad and dejected. He'd taken some painkillers earlier but their effects were wearing off fast and the depressive effect of the alcohol was weighing down on him.

He began to straighten up, his knees wobbling painfully. When Stefan supported his sides with his hands, Preston thought he was being helpful. But before he could make anything more out of the situation, Stefan whirled him round and smashed him against the wall again. Preston struggled, but Stefan was surprisingly stronger. He had Preston's cheek pressed against the white tiles and his breath was hot and stench-filled against Preston's face.

"No, you fucking don't, you little bitch tease. We're not done till I'm satisfied,"

His hands moved quickly over Preston's jeans, tearing at buttons until they popped open. Preston tried to get him off when he felt the cool air hit his arse as Stefan drew his boxer briefs and trousers down.

"Get off me!" he jabbed an elbow back, hearing a hiss as it connected.

Stefan grabbed Preston's hair and banged his head hard on the wall that he saw stars. "You little arse bitch!"

Rough, dry fingers pushed into the cleft of Preston's arse, rubbing over his hole. Preston clenched his body hard against them and elbowed back once more, wriggling like a fish in Stefan's tough grip. There was no way he'd let this idiot fuck him, with or without a condom. He recognised muffled voices and heard footsteps approach. "Help!" he yelled for assistance.