Vixenscratch

The atmosphere at The Rabbit Hole was different. The music was playing, but for its own sake; no mostly-naked dancer was occupying either of the stages. Danil was a fixture behind the bar, as always, the blonde werewolf mixing drinks with a friendly grin, but tonight he took the time to down a bottle of beer of his own every so often, crushing the neck of the glass bottle between his teeth and spitting the shards into the trash can in lieu of using a bottle opener. But the most obvious clue was still probably the dress of the employees and the lack of customers.

The black vests and plush rabbit ears that were part of the Rabbit Hole experience were an endangered species during the staff party night. Some of the employees had dressed as for a night out, others gave the impression that they had dressed for comfort. Roxeen Griffon, numbering among the latter, had donned his glasswood jewelry, which usually got in the way of his uniform, and was huddling in an obviously home-knit sweater by one of the tables. The glass of soda on the table in front of him had been sitting there since he’d first taken his seat, yet he’d only managed to finish two thirds of it, slowly nursing his drink and watching the goings-on around him with an almost pained expression on his face.

“What’s got you so down, Silver?”

The skinny blond looked up, forced his lips into a smile. Vanor fell somewhere between the night-out and night-in crowds, wearing neat-looking black cargo pants that he somehow managed to make look classy, and a tanktop which showed off a good portion of the freckles speckling his chest. The redhead was one of the few people Roxeen knew who could make a mullet look good and whose freckles in no way detracted from his looks.

“It’s nothing. Just kinda cold and not really in a party mood.”

“Mmhmm.” Vanor’s tone of voice and his raised eyebrows made it very clear that he didn’t believe that statement. He stepped closer and ran a hand through the waiter’s silky white hair. With a sigh, the younger man leaned into the touch, thriving on the contact he hadn’t known he craved.

“Mmmh… Maybe you could get me in a mood, though. That feels nice.”

The redhead smiled at that, crouching and pulling Roxeen into a kiss. It wouldn’t be the first time the two of them snuck off to a back room during a staff party, and they both knew it was just casual, meaningless sex. A thin, long-fingered hand slid around the back of Vanor’s neck as they exchanged hot breaths, the stripper’s tongue playing with the barbell piercing in his blond coworker’s.

When they broke the kiss, Roxeen let himself be pulled to his feet. “You could definitely get me in a mood,” he breathed, lips brushing his partner’s earlobe, sending a shiver through the redhead. “If you’re up for it?”

“I could be… convinced.” He wasn’t fooling anyone; they both knew it would take very little convincing. While they both knew they weren’t relationship material, they definitely had some chemistry that had them both coming back for more.

There were a few knowing smiles as they meandered through the room, stopping for a few quick words here, a grope and a kiss there. They had plenty of time, and while the pretense wasn’t fooling anyone who’d worked there long enough to see them at the last staff party, the appearance of desperation would have felt unneccesarily crude. It wasn’t as though Roxeen minded when his sometimes-lover pressed him up against the wall, tongue invading the skinny blond’s mouth and hands sliding up underneath the ugly knit sweater he was wearing. It felt good, and was at least starting to wear a little at the edges of the hard lump that had been lodged in his stomach since his boyfriend left. If that made him needy, he couldn’t really help it.

They stopped by one of the two dressing rooms in the employees’ area behind the club floors to retrieve a bottle of lube from Vanor’s locker, before moving on to one of the few places they could be reasonably certain they’d go undisturbed: a janitor’s supply closet. They’d retreated there on previous occassions, and while it wasn’t spacious by any stretch of the imagination, it was enough.

Once the door was shut behind them, they didn’t lose any time shedding their clothing. The pair of them generated enough heat already. Roxeen clung to his partner, kissing him with a hunger that almost managed to overvoice the void he felt, moaning into Vanor’s mouth as the older man’s hands caressed his body.

“Take me?” he breated, the lump in his throat and the look in his eyes turning the question into a desperate plea.

The redhead smiled, kissed his forehead, and managed to find a condom in the pocket of his discarded jeans. That they were intimate with something resembling regularity didn’t make either of them prone to taking unneccesary risks.

Leaning against the wall, the blond young man let out a long, shuddering sigh as he felt one of his partner’s fingers, slick with lube, start probing between his buttocks, preparing him for intercourse. When that finger was replaced by the redhead’s just as well-lubricated, rubber-coated cock, his breath caught, then escaped him in a soft moan. This might just be what he needed to chase that lump in his stomach away, to fill the void his now-ex-boyfriend had left behind. Goodness knew he deserved some kind of reward after he’d stayed strong for the sake of the man’s daughters. After that it was a relief to be held, to be given a chance to finally let go, to let someone else be in charge for a while.

Vanor’s nails pressed into his skin as the stripper came, and without looking Roxeen could guess, based on experience, that the redhead was biting his lip. For a few moments, he was the one holding Van upright, supporting their weight on his left arm, then the older man straightened up, urged him to turn around with a slightly unsteady hand.

“Sorry, Silver,” he murmured, brushing strands of white hair out of the blond’s face. “Thought I’d last longer…”

Roxeen shook his head, hushed the redhead with a finger placed across his lips, followed by a kiss. He knew now what he craved to maybe fill or at least drown out that aching void inside him for a while. His thin, almost bony hand felt along the shelves in the dark room, while his right arm, hand in cast, was curled around his partner’s waist, holding him close. They remained for the most part attached at the lips, Vanor’s hands roaming the thin blond’s body, until the young waiter found what he was looking for and pulled back.

He presented the latex glove to his partner with a querying, pleading look in his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to speak the question out loud; part of him worried that even making the request would be crossing a line.

“You sure?” Vanor sounded sceptic but, thank goodness, not offended. “My hands aren’t all that small, you know…”

He nodded, then found his voice again, though it sounded pitifully small to him. “Please, Van…”

The redhead hesitated for a few more moments, studying Roxeen’s face, then smiled with one corner of his mouth and pulled the glove on. “If that’s what you want, gorgeous.”

Straddling Vanor’s lap, the angle was slightly awkward, but the closeness made up for it. His fingers tangled into his partner’s rusty orange hair, eyes sliding shut and breath hissing across his lips as Vanor, carefully, started to work on him. This was definitely what he needed; it wore away at that awful heaviness that had been growing in his stomach and the tightness holding it back had caused in his chest. Leaning more heavily on Vanor, he urged the redhead on as tears started running down his cheeks.

“Roxeen? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He spoke between clenched teeth, more so in a subconscious attempt to stem the flow of tears than anything. He needed a good cry, but part of him had trouble admitting it. “Go on.”

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

“I. Am. Fine. Don’t stop. Please.” There wasn’t much about his words that could be termed a request. Couldn’t Vanor see that he wanted, no, needed this? Needed the outlet.

He felt another finger being slipped into him, more hesitantly than the first three, and had to admit to himself at least that it wasn’t only pleasant; the tears running down his cheeks were getting even harder to hold back. But then, that was what he needed, wasn’t it? He’d held back tears long enough that now it took something extra to bring them out again.

It built up slowly, with his shoulders trembling and his eyes running, clinging to his friend and coworker like a shipwrecked man to a piece of driftwood. The addition of the fifth finger sent a shudder through him, he pressed his cheek into messed-up red hair, enjoyed the climax that washed over him even as his whole body started racking with sobs. Exhausted, he collapsed against Vanor, finally able to let himself cry the tears he had been holding back since his boyfriend’s sudden disappearance.

And Vanor held him, rocked him slowly, whispered into his long white hair that everything would be alright.

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Avelyon High by quoting_mungo