AKA, I wore a jock strap, because coming straight into my pants is not a great idea. The jock keeps my erection from tenting my pants too badly, and catches all the spunk. A win-win. Real classy, I know, but needs must. I’m too desperate to even care at this point.
“What do you mean, help you?” Georgie asks, putting his drink down and following me as Maggie drags me toward the light-up floor. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”
“Tommy’s got a little issue,” Sam leans in, speaking right in his ear to be heard over the music here. “We’re gonna–”
I can’t hear the rest, but Georgie’s eyes get bigger and bigger, and then he looks up at me as if seeking confirmation. I shrug, nod, and try to smile but I’m sure it comes out more like a grimace. It’s humiliating. These guys don’t use it against me, they help me out when I need it, but it still sucks that I need them for this at all. But Sam, Jules, and Ry are already on board, surrounding me on the dance floor and writhing to the beat. Georgie bites his lip, but nods at me gently and joins Ry.
“You want Molly, babe?” Maggie asks, his lips brushing my ear, his body plastering to mine. “I’ve got sextacy, too.”
I groan and lean my head on his slim shoulder. “Why are you tempting me like this?”
“Tempting you?” He laughs, pushing my head up, bringing my hands to his lithe hips as he sways. “You can have it.”
“Poppers only tonight,” I huff. “The easy stuff. You got any?”
“Jules!” Maggie grabs his friend. “Poppers.”
Jules fishes a few tiny glass bottles out of his deep pockets and hands them over to me with a wink. I only take three, and pass the rest back to him firmly. He frowns in confusion. “Only three? Are you sure they’ll last long enough to get you there?”
“I’ll just dance a little first,” I say anxiously. “Loosen up a bit, you know? I don’t need it to last long, I just need it to…”Finish me off.It’s too embarrassing to say it out loud, surrounded by strangers. Sure, everybody here is drunk and I can barely hear these guys even when they shout into my ear, but still. I’m not trying to advertise my issues.
Against my will, I find myself glancing toward Young-gi. When Maggie brought me out here, I subtly moved our group toward his end of the room, and while I’m not right in front of him or anything, I’m definitely in his line of sight. He’s illuminated in shades of moody blue at his booth, staring straight at me, his arms spread across the back of his rounded bench seat. Two water bottles sit on the table in front of him, and knowing he got one for me is weirdly… touching.
“Let’s dance,” I say, shaking my head and turning away from him. “I want to get in the right headspace.”
“Foreplay, you got it, babe,” Maggie laughs, and I stuff the bottles into my pocket as we get started.
Maggie is a fantastic dancer: sensuous, confident, and fun. He keeps my hips busy, encourages me to grab his waist, and slides his hands all over my chest. He doesn’t turn me on, not really, but that’s for the best. I focus on dancing with him, and let my mind wander to some nice, safe sexual fantasies. Safe because they’re in my head, not real, and nothing to be afraid of.
And Young-gi stars in all of them.
I bite my lip as I’m passed to Sam, and he and Jules grind on me, touch me, sandwich me between them so I don’t have to think too hard about moving. I just let myself be moved. And thinking about Young-gi while I get to relax a little bit? Yeah, it’s getting me there.
The first bottle is in my hand a minute later, and I crack it open in front of my nose. Inhaling deeply, I shudder and my eyes roll back.
The hands on me multiply, the shivers race along every nerve ending. The lights seem to pulse more starkly, brighter brights and dimmer dims, flashing everything in and out as my mind spins. I grab the first person I can get my hands on, Ry, and pull his face to mine. His laughing kiss is teasing and enthusiastic, and I hear Maggie whine.
“No fair, kiss me too, babe.”
I’m too hot, too dizzy, too high to think about it. Everything tightens, my breath hitches, I’m so close…
But poppers don’t last long, and I start to come down before I can manage it. I slump in frustration once it’s out of my system, breathing hard. Anger is familiar to me, but I shove it back down. I’m bitter and frustrated, but I can’t let myself lose my temper again. I need to keep a handle on it.
“It didn’t get you there?” Maggie asks, kissing my neck, while Sam is pressing against me from behind, moving so in sync with me that we might as well be one person. “Take the second one, babe.”
I do as he says, my fingers shaking. But being anxious that I won’t be able to get off isn’t helping me relax, and I spend the three-minute high desperate, my need clawing at my insides, ruining the high before it’s even fully over.
“I can’t,” I sob, actually tearing up. My dick is fluctuating between being fully hard, ready to go, and half-mast, soft and sad. I can’t stay hard long enough, can’t keep my mind off my shame and my past long enough, can’t forget who I am for long enough. “I can’t.”
Jules shushes me gently, and Georgie pets my cheek, brushing my tears away. Seeing my distress makes his expression collapse into worry.
“It’ll be alright, Tommy,” he tells me, but the music is so loud I have to read his lips to understand. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay!” I cry, but pull the third popper from my pocket. I don’t even know why I’m trying–while I’m feeling this way, defeated and lost, I probably won’t get there. But I have to try. I’m desperate. I’d do anything to just get some relief.
I take the hit, and my brain untethers. I feel like I have a body but also don’t. I’m swimming in my own self, like I’m a few sizes too big for my insides, but it’s good. A sloshy, warm, relaxed feeling. I’m kissing someone–Ry, I think–and I’m groaning, but I can’t finish. I can’t.
I tear my lips from his, gasping for air like I’m coming up from underwater. I think I’m full-on crying now, my head still spinning a little despite the rapidly fading drug in my system.
