Boyf Riends Smuts

Never Enough

Jeremy is sitting at the bar, finishing off his second beer of the night. Coming here has become routine for him. He's lonely, he knows he keeps coming here in a pathetic attempt to replace whatever is missing in him, but it never works. Sometimes he'll leave the club alone and drunk, and other times he'll leave the club hanging off of a stranger's arm. It doesn't matter if he's with a man or a woman or something in between, he'll always be seeking the same thrill. And sometimes, afterward, when he stumbles home the next morning before they wake up, he'll get a text from them. Every time, he ignores them, blocks their number if they get too annoying, and he feels more empty than before. Every time.

But he keeps coming back anyway, holding out hope that he'll find a person that doesn't leave him feeling empty.

It's a Friday night, so the club is particularly busy. There are a few people that catch his eye, but they seem to be busy participating in scenes or are already taken. It's not like he's any good at approaching people anyways, he'll usually wait until someone approaches him. "Back again?" he hears Rich, his favorite bartender ask as he approaches him, slinging a towel over his shoulder. "Girl from last night wasn't the one?"

"Not even close," Jeremy says, sliding his empty glass towards Rich. He doesn't even have to say anything, he comes here so often that Rich already knows what he likes to drink. He pours a glass from the pitcher, filling it up to the brim so Jeremy gets a little extra for his money. "Thanks."

"That dude over there kinda looks like your type." Jeremy follows Rich's gaze and sees a guy that surprisingly does look like his type, with a thin frame and blonde hair. The only problem is that he's holding a leash that's attached to a collar that's wrapping around a girl's neck.

"He already has a sub," Jeremy says, maybe a little disappointed. He can't go home alone tonight. He doesn't have to be in at work tomorrow so it doesn't matter how long he's out.

"They could be open," Rich shrugs.

"Too complicated."

Jeremy watches a scene play out where a small crowd has gathered. There's a man strapped to an X-shaped post while another man takes a flogger to his back. And the whole time, the sub is remaining silent with a straight face as a group of people watches red lines bloom across the skin of his back. Jeremy couldn't do that. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't take it that far, especially knowing that his body was exposed to anyone in the club who wanted to look.

The first few times Jeremy came here, he almost got scared out right away seeing people wearing chains and gags and masks. He probably would have run out and never looked back if he hadn't met Rich, who explained to him he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to and that most people there were actually really nice. And he was right, they were nice, and it gave Jeremy a way to meet people who could help him let go for a while. It was never enough, though. Something was still missing.

Someone he's never seen before walks through the door alone. He's got thick glasses and a nervous look on his face, dressed in a red sweatshirt and jeans, and in a room full of people that are half-naked, he looks just as out of place as Jeremy. "Haven't seen him here before," Rich says, pointing out the same guy that caught Jeremy's eye. "He's cute. You should say hi."

And as cute he is, he doesn't seem to have the type of attitude that Jeremy needs right now. He's skittish, flinching at every loud sound, and he appears lost, looking around with his hands in his pockets. Maybe he really is lost, he could've somehow stumbled into the wrong building. Jeremy is almost completely sure he's a sub, or maybe he's just here to see what it's like.

"You're gonna miss your shot," Rich says when a man approaches the cute glasses guy. He's much older, judging by his greying hair, but not necessarily unattractive. They seem to be getting along pretty well and Jeremy thinks that Rich is right, he's missing his shot before even getting to know the guy's name. He's talking with his hands, too, waving them around awkwardly, and Jeremy smiles.