This chapter was inspired by the song 'Dance Yrself Clean' by LCD Soundsystem (although I listened to the cover by MS MR a lot when I was writing it). This song was requested by Odisdera-kun. I doubt she expected… Uh, this.
Dance Yrself Clean
Matthew leaned against the bar and studied his beer. It was a dark ale, room temperature, and not nearly strong enough but it was comforting in his hand. Cigarette smoke tangled in his hair and caught on the ceiling of the establishment.
The bar was derelict and falling apart; stained with blood and vomit and the tears of divorced men. The washrooms were a mess of cracked tiles and the splashed semen of hurried sex. It was an absolute wreck.
The bartender kept reaching under the counter to stroke the rifle there and he looked more than willing to use it.
But it suited his mood. Matthew liked the atmosphere of grumbling men and used up prostitutes. He liked the suspicious scratches leading from the bar to the exit. It was like a dream.
Or a nightmare.
"Well, well… Who do we have here?" Another man sat down next to him at the bar and tugged on one of his curls. Matthew recognized him. Wilbert, was it? No, Gilbert… His name was Gilbert.
And he was a bit of an asshole.
"Piss off, Gilbert," he sighed without much malice. Gilbert laughed and waved at the bartender.
"Oh, so you remember me, then? I must have made quite the impression."
Matthew snorted.
"Was that before or after you fucked me into the wall?"
Gilbert grinned and slipped ten dollars to the bartender. He brought two more beers and Gilbert slid one of the emerald bottles to Matthew.
He took it.
It was true that he had, well, fucked the other man on several occasions. There was no other word for it. It had not been romantic or gentle; it had been brutal and desperate and messy. Dirty. But that was the whole reason Matthew came to this bar.
Sometimes he just needed a good fuck, and Gilbert was certainly good at it.
"Before, I'm sure. You game?"
"Not yet."
Music crackled through old speakers, drifting through the cigarette smoke and warbled, hacking coughs. Matthew took a sip of his beer.
"I can wait," Gilbert shrugged.
His stomach twisted in anticipation and he tried to ignore it. Gilbert's voice was rough and it spoke to parts of Matthew that he would rather not examine. The deepest, darkest parts of his soul. The filthiest parts.
A fight broke out behind them but neither of them turned around. It was nothing to get worked up over; it happened every night.
"Oh, you can, can you?" Matthew asked, tightening his grip on the beer bottle.
"For a piece of that ass? You bet."
Matthew rolled his eyes.
"You're a jerk. You know that, right?"
"Guilty as charged. But it looks good on me."
And Matthew had to smile. At least Gilbert was honest with himself; it was more than Matthew could claim. Outside of this bar, he was sweet and quiet. He was a doormat and everyone took advantage of his kind nature.
Here, he strove to be the opposite. The pathetic bit was that his true temperament was somewhere between the two extremes.
"True."
Gilbert grinned and swivelled on his barstool to run his foot over Matthew's shin; up and down and up and a little higher. He pressed his boot against the front of his jeans, straightening his ankle, and Matthew gasped. He thrust against his boot.
"Are you ready yet?" Gilbert asked, feigning innocence and failing miserably.
"A bit…" His breath hitched. "A bit forward tonight, aren't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Gilbert pressed a little harder and smirked into his beer.
"What, exactly, do you want from me?"
"The same thing that you want; a moment of freedom."
"Is that all?"
"That," Gilbert leaned forward and whispered against his ear, "and a good lay. I brought lube."
"How thoughtful. I'll be sure to use it on you…" Matthew said wryly. Gilbert laughed. His hands trailed down to the buttons on his jeans and traced the stamped contours.
The other patrons of the bar averted their eyes and ignored them. It was an unspoken rule. It was considered 'impolite' to watch one man seduce another, just as it was considered vulgar to watch them fuck in the washroom.
It was nothing to get worked up over; it happened every night.
Matthew finished his beer and slammed it down on the counter. He reached for Gilbert and clutched the front of his leather jacket with shaking hands. He crushed their lips together and bit down. Gilbert opened his mouth and Matthew slipped his tongue inside. He licked his sharp canines and tangled their tongues together, reaching as far and as deep into the other man as he could without bending him over.
When he pulled away, Gilbert was flushed and lost in thought.
"Wow," he panted against his neck.
"Washroom," Matthew growled, feeling wild and unlike himself. He pinched this inside of his thigh with a twist of his fingers. "Now."
Gilbert handed him the small bottle of lubrication without further provocation and stood up.
"You're the boss."
Author's Notes:
Uh… Fuck buddies who aren't really friends but probably should be? I've been to bars like this. You keep your head down unless you're looking for a good time, and even then. Dirty, backwater bars. (Just one of the many reasons I love humans. Not even kidding.) I assume that Matthew and Gilbert meet like this more often than they would like to admit, and that's okay. Sometimes you just want to be someone else for a little while… Or be more yourself.
I actually really enjoy writing darker, seedier pieces. Aha ha ha… Ha. (Sorry, Odisdera-kun!)
Are you guys tired of these updates yet? I think I've posted three chapters in the past twenty four hours.
