It was definitely not a gay bar.

Kurt realized his mistake the moment he walked through the door, even before his eyes managed to adjust enough to register that every couple in the place consisted of one man and one woman. He didn't need his eyes. There was an immediate feeling, a pitch to the voices, an unmistakable sensation of not-what-he'd-expected that hit before the door even latched behind him. He should have simply turned and left, but pride and not wanting to look like an idiot who hadn't bothered to read the whole Yelp review led him to the long, shining bar where he now sat, alone, sipping the pale pink concoction the heavily-pierced bartender had given him. At least, he thought, it was a scene bar. And scene people tended to be tolerant so he was fairly sure no one would mind him enjoying some of the male scenery while he drank and pretended he'd meant to come here all along.

It was the name that had led him astray. How in the world anyone could name a club Rumpelstiltskin and not expect people to assume it catered to the ass-fucking crowd, was beyond his power to understand. A criminal level of false advertising, really. It was such a shame too because the place was perfect in every other way. Punk bartender aside, it looked more like the library of an old-fashioned gentleman's club than a BDSM bar. Worn leather armchairs dotted the room, interspersed with overstuffed divans and low, polished tables. There was a dance floor but the music was quiet and dreamy; it leant a fantasy quality to the low-key displays of submission and dominance between the patrons. Here and there around the room submissives knelt, some leashed, some serving their dominants in one way or another, but everyone was fully dressed and, some dance-floor grinding and enthusiastic making out aside, nothing explicitly sexual was going on. It was exactly the kind of club Kurt had been looking for. Compared to some of the places he'd been . . . Kurt shook his head and had to suppress a shudder. The less he thought about those experiences the better. It was just his luck that when he finally found a place like this – a place where he could sit and talk and take the time to find just the kind of dominant he needed – it turned out to be a place where no one would be interested in the kind of submission he had to offer.

Well, at least there was eye candy. Some of the male subs had beautiful bodies and he could almost imagine himself in their places, despite the women who held the ends of their leashes. If he was being perfectly honest, pretty much any display of dominance could make Kurt's belly stir with desire. It had been far too long since he'd been dominated properly. Oh, who was he kidding? He'd never been dominated properly. Not the way he fantasized about. The way he craved. And he wasn't going to find it in a place like this, no matter how gay the name was. He signed and turned back to the bar, but before he could put the room fully behind him his eye caught and lingered on a newcomer, just stripping off his jacket and handing it to the coat check girl.

Kurt's drink was very strong. That was definitely the reason he heard himself give a little whimper when the jacket dropped away from broad shoulders, a long, long torso, and an outright luscious ass wrapped in tight, mildly distressed denim. Luscious straight ass, Kurt reminded himself as he pressed his lips to the rim of his glass to keep himself from making any more involuntary noises. Damn you, irresponsible namers of not-gay bars. Damn you.

It only got harder when the guy turned around and began to make his way into the room. Oh, he was handsome. His legs and neck were just as long as his body and made Kurt wonder if his other parts followed suit. His hair was coiffed in that casual, combed up way that Kurt knew from experience only comes with careful effort. His jeans clung to those long legs so that even from across the room Kurt could see the play of muscle underneath them as he walked. But more than all of this it was his manner that made Kurt's fingers curl tight around the stem of his cocktail glass. As soon as he stepped away from the coat check it was clear he was a dominant, and not the kind who had to telegraph his status far and wide. No, it was in the way he carried himself, like he knew exactly who he was and expected everyone around him to acknowledge it. Watching him, Kurt would have been happy to have acknowledged it. Preferably from his knees.

No. No. Straight dom, Kurt told himself. But he swiveled on his stool to keep Long and Lean in sight as he moved farther into the room.

The first person to acknowledge the newcomer was a young female dominant who almost ran to him when she caught his eye and flung her arms around him in a hug, which he returned with a grin. The submissive trailing behind her with his hands clasped behind his back stood silently as they greeted each other, but when they pulled away the dreamboat smiled at him as well, and said something that made the submissive blush and bow his head even further.

Kurt whimpered again.

He watched as the dreamboat, obviously a regular, worked the room. He greeted one person after another, lingering with some for longer conversation, but always moving on to the next group. He was popular, Kurt could tell that. Everyone seemed happy to see him, dom and sub alike. Doms were greeted with fist bumps or hugs, and submissives with warm authority and casual little touches that stirred up longing in Kurt's belly. God, he needed to find someone to take a strap to him ASAP. It was pathetic, sitting here reduced to creeping on a straight guy, flushing with desire just from watching him ruffle the hair of a kneeling sub. And yet he couldn't help himself. He watched those long legs carry the man attached to them from group to group, until despite his tiny sips he found himself staring at the bottom of his empty glass. He turned back to the bar with a little sigh.

The bartender headed his way and raised an eyebrow to ask if he wanted a refill, but Kurt shook his head. "I'm good," he said. He fished out his wallet and pushed a bill across the bar. Creeping through one drink was pathetic, two would be outright self-abuse. He needed to go home. On the way he could decide if it would be wrong to masturbate to the idea of being forced to hump one of those long legs until he was aching with need and begging to come. He was already ninety percent sure he was going to decided that it was perfectly okay.

The bartender brought his change and Kurt slipped it into his wallet.

"Dude! About time you got over here! I was starting to worry you'd gone designated driver tonight."

Kurt looked up from his wallet to find the bartender grinning, his piercings glinting with reflected light. And from the corner of his eye he could see his future masturbatory fantasy standing two barstools away, holding out a fist for yet another bump. He felt himself flush red and turned away, hiding behind the act of shoving his wallet into his pocket.

"Fuck that!" the dreamboat said. "I know what kinds of scotch you've got back there. It's half the reason I come here."

His voice was higher than Kurt would have expected. Light and unaffected, not intentionally rough like so many dominants. He liked it. No! He didn't like it. He was leaving. Now. He slid off his barstool.

"So, the usual?" the bartender asked. He sounded hopeful, which was strange, and caused Kurt to linger to see what was up.

The dreamboat must have nodded because the bartender turned and reached for a bottle that even Kurt knew was outrageously expensive. No wonder he'd been afraid the dreamboat wasn't drinking. The tip alone . . .

Kurt watched, almost hypnotized, as the bartender poured amber liquid into a crystal rocks glass. But the clink of the tumbler hitting the bar in front of the dreamboat snapped him out of his spell. Leaving. That's right. He was leaving. He wasn't going to sit here and hope that they might smile at each other, maybe have a little chat. He was gay, the dreamboat was straight, and he was leaving. Except the dreamboat was still talking.

"And one of whatever stereotypically fruity concoction this one is having."