Jason and Ken Meet

1 Year ago

Jason’s POV

I could hear that damn music five blocks away, even over my friends. They were all chatting and making a general ruckus, since they were going to go celebrate the fact that one of our friends “became a man.” What I mean is, he finally turned 21, so we were going to a strip club. A male one, since my friend here is gay. I don’t mind looking at 6-pack men in a thong either, but none of my buddies know. I’m sure they all suspect it though.

First thing I did when we entered the club was to grab a drink. No way I could make it through the night without getting drunk. I think I downed about three or five shots before I found my buddies again. They were chatting amongst themselves while birthday boy goggled at the men on stage, face bright as a tomato. I took the risk, alcohol already setting in, and sat next to him, also staring at the men waving their dong at probably hundreds of people.

“So, how is it?” I had to shout over the music, but my friend either didn’t hear, or was too dazzled by what was in front of him instead. I drank the rest of my shot, and placed it on the table in front of us. When I looked up again, there were men on the prowl. The rest of my friends took notice and started to cheer and make noise to get attention over here. For birthday boy, I bet. Pointing was involved, and I bet the hot one that did find us was too confused to determine who they were pointing at, and he went to me.

By now my entire vision gave my eyes that wind blur, and whatever I focused on looked super vivid. The man on me wasn’t toned to the point where look messed up, like how some bodybuilders go overboard. No, instead I saw his perfectly sculpted abs glisten with each pass of the lights above, with sweat rolling down his face, and splashing on his pecks. All I saw was the hottest man gyrating his hips on me, and faint cheering noises from my friends. I’m sure they were all shocked when I started touching the man. He was just so close, my hands just “accidently” glided over his wet body.

He teased me, again and again. The damn cloth that covered his groin pressed against my shirt twice, and his face got centimeters from my face multiple times. My hands moved up, onto his shoulders, and down his muscular arms. I had no idea what I was about to do; the alcohol was too much. The next time he got close, I kissed him. I knew I shouldn’t have done that, but I was tempted. His mouth just centimeters from mine, and his body grinding me. Strangely, he tasted like soda. Not what I expected.

This must not have happened too often, because he took a second longer to react, and I completely expected him to push me away and get off of me. Instead, he kissed back. He stopped grinding on me, and held my face as his tongue roamed my mouth. Damn he was good. He flicked the back of my teeth with it, before salivating all over my own tongue. I had to lean back in the chair, too weak from the kissing to even sit straight. But that’s okay, because he took that as an invitation to cling closer to me, and inch himself above me. That gave me the opportunity to grope his ass, and I swear they were too big for me to even fully hold them. So I slapped them, and a moan escaped his lips. I guess that’s when he realized what he was doing, and broke the kiss. He ran off, behind some door. Guess it was the backstage.

When I turned to my friends, all of them had their mouths open, and I swear birthday boy’s eyes could have oozed out of his eyes. Next thing I know, they were all dragging me out, and a cool breeze hit my face. I didn’t realize how hot it had been in there. Or maybe it was just the kiss. Nobody spoke a word to either me, or birthday boy, and instead talked about the newer shows coming out.

The following week I met him again. Birthday boy and I had gone to a gay club, since that week at the office was hell for me, and we had gotten closer after the fiasco. I had agreed to go with him, but I wasn’t doing anything until I had a drink first. That’s where I found him, probably on his third shot. I ordered mine, and tapped him on the shoulder.

He raised his head shakily, lazy eyes staring at me. What do I do? He probably doesn’t remember me, I bet he’s kissed lots of men between now and when I last me him. So I decided to give a small smile, and a pathetic wave. That’s when his eye lit up, probably recognizing me.

“You.” He leaned in to me, pointing a finger. “You kissed me.”

This could get either very nasty, or very sexy. For either of those for me to go in to, I had to drink my shot. “So what?” Okay, probably not the best answer.

The man dropped his finger before pouring himself another glass. “You’re a damn good kisser.” He drank his glass with a squinted face, and then offered his hand. “My birth certificate says Kenneth, but I’ll allow you to call me Ken.”

This Ken already had too much to drink. I drank my glass, before agreeing to shake his hand. “Jason.”

We drank the next few minutes in silence. I had no idea what to do, except for the idea that if he was this good of a kisser, then he would be damn good in bed. Then Ken spoke up. “You know, you are allowed to touch me, but kissing me is against the rules.” I swore I heard a chuckle from him over the music.

“Hope I didn’t get you in too much trouble.” I played a smirk on my face for him see, but I’m sure he didn’t, as he was staring at the condensation running down his glass.

“Au contraire!” He shouted, as if a light bulb went off in his head. “I got so much praise from all the workers who saw. And then word got out that I kissed a client, and even more people congratulated me.” He grinned at me, before taking another shot. “I was hoping you would come back.”

I had to laugh at that, before following him in another shot. Then an idea came to me, and before I could think it through fully it fumbled out of my mouth. “If you were so eager for me to come back, maybe we should be fuck buddies.”

I glanced to my side, refusing to look at him head on. I could tell I took him by surprise, because his eyes were bulging, and refusing to look at me too. No one spoke until the song ended, which was a while considering it was probably playing the first chorus of whatever was playing.

“I’d like that.” He said. I had forgotten what I even said. When he looked at me, that’s when I remembered. Fuck buddies. He’d like to be fuck buddies. Before I could stop it, my grin spread across my face, determined not to hide any happiness. Ken chuckled when he saw.

“I live alone, y’know. Not too far from here, actually.” I took a last swig of my drink before hopping off the barstool. “Let’s say we go for a test run.”

He was even better in bed than I expected. So damn good, the neighbors were pounding the wall trying to stop me from moaning so loud. I ended up biting whatever was near me at the time—I can’t remember if it was the pillow or the sheets. So I gained a fuck buddy that night. Didn’t know how long it was supposed to last, but we went on for months. And it got better too. We learned what we liked, which made the sex much better. He became my stress release from work, and I became his go to person if he ever felt like doing drugs. Which, I am proud of him for doing. I know how many strippers get into drugs, and I’d rather have him ram me in the ass than stab himself with a needle to do his job properly.

Three months down the road, I realized I had feelings for him. Big time feelings. It wasn’t any of those wimpy, jealous things, no. Some days he’d come to me, and complain about his work. Those days we’d talk, and I’d get to know him. Then he’d fuck my brains out extra hard. The more he talked to me, the more I liked him. I didn’t even tell him I felt something until nine months later. That’s when we fought. What we fought about, actually.

“Wait, what?” I refused to look at him, and instead focused my eyes on the crumbs on the kitchen counter. “You…like me?”

I nodded, still not looking at him. I could feel his eyes staring at my head, probably slightly disgusted. I had broken an unspoken rule—that we were only fuck buddies, no feeling should get in the way. They hadn’t gotten in the way, I just wanted something more. Ken sighed, slamming his cup down. “Kevin.” He sounded annoyed.

“I know! I know!” I didn’t want to hear it. I already told myself a thousand times. I knew he didn’t want to hear it, but I told him anyways.

“Ken, I don’t want a relationship. This thing we’re doing—the sex—it’s just for stress. There’s nothing between us. You know that.”

“But—”

“No. Nothing.” The next thing I heard was the door slamming shut. When I woke up, the morning news told me his entire building was set ablaze at four in the morning. Only fifteen survivors, none of them him.

I couldn’t go in to work for a week.