Ch 04 A Club Night Out

Content warning: "Feminine" words are used to describe the trans man's genitalia. Fisting is described in the story. If this is not your thing please move on.

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The late afternoon sun spilled lazily through the wide slider windows of Tristan's apartment, the golden light mingling with the soft rustle of fabric and bursts of laughter. The three of them had sprawled across the bedroom, digging through closets and drawers, pulling out outfits and accessories with the same energy they'd once applied to undressing.

The apartment buzzed with lazy excitement, the kind that hums after a good high and even better sex. The air still smelled faintly of joint smoke and sweat, sunlight filtering through the wide open garden doors as the trio drifted toward the bedroom.

Wolf leaned back on the bed, watching with a lopsided grin as Anna rummaged through Tristan's closet like it was a treasure chest. "What kind of party is this again?" he asked.

"A queer club night," Anna replied, holding up a sheer mesh top against her chest, then tossing it aside. "Everyone shows out. Glitter, harnesses, whatever makes you feel sexy."

Tristan was already shirtless, digging through a drawer with practiced ease.

He stood barefoot, holding up two shirts from the pile to his chest. "Sheer and slutty," he announced, showing off a gauzy yellow button-down, "or slutty and sheer?" He dangled a mesh black one with a wink.

"Yellow," Anna said without hesitation, perched on the bed in one of Wolf's oversized T-shirts. "It's sunny and slutty."

"Perfect," Tristan agreed, slipping it on. The fabric fell lightly over his skin, and he buttoned it halfway, leaving his chest and a hint of stomach exposed. He paired it with slightly oversized dark brown suit pants that sat high on his hips, giving him that loose, effortless charm he wore like a second skin.

Wolf was halfway through shimmying into a pair of soft, flowy charcoal cotton pants--no underwear, of course--when Anna walked over and dropped a bundle of clothes onto the bed.

"Alright, fashion show time. I'm dressing you."

Wolf arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Am I your canvas now?"

"Obviously." She winked and pulled him upright by the hand. "Arms up. Try this--it'll look amazing with your skin."

Laughing, he obeyed. Anna slid a delicate cropped fishnet tank in a muted khaki green over his torso, the fabric hugging him just enough to hint at the firm muscles beneath. She ran her hands down his sides, appreciating the sight. "Perfect. No underwear. Keep the pants."

Wolf looked at himself in the mirror with an amused smirk, the netting clinging to his torso in all the right places. The hem cut off just below his ribs, leaving the soft line of his stomach fully exposed.

"This is basically decorative."

"Exactly," Tristan chimed in, now sliding rings onto his fingers. "You've got the body. Let it do the talking."

Wolf rolled his eyes and smirked.

Anna let out a low, appreciative hum. "You're ridiculously hot."

"You picked it," he said. "This is your doing."

Then Anna disappeared for a minute, and when she came back--Wolf actually whistled.

She wore a cropped, oversized charcoal gray short-sleeve button-up shirt, buttoned only at the top. Beneath it, the sheer wine-red lace of her bra peeked out against her skin. Slouchy low-waisted olive cargo pants clung casually to her hips, with high-waisted sheer black lace panties popping just over the top. Matte oxblood ankle boots with square toes and chunky heels grounded the look, making her taller, sharper--irresistible.

Wolf blinked slowly, mouth just slightly open. "Holy shit."

"You like?" Anna grinned.

"I adore."

Anna turned in a slow circle, her ass peeking out beneath the loose fabric, and shot him a wink. "Good. That's the point."

Tristan sprayed a bit of cologne on Wolf's neck just to lean in and inhale it, muttering, "That's it," with a pleased grin. Anna fastened a necklace around Tristan's throat, then smacked his ass playfully.

Tristan turned with a delighted gasp. "Excuse me."

"You liked it."

"Obviously."

By the time they made it to the club, the sky was a deep navy, the street lit by flickering lamps and the occasional pass of a bike. Tucked down a barely-marked alley, the entrance looked more like a service door than anything else--just a tall, matte-black slab of steel beneath a single red light.

A pair of bouncers stood outside, one tall and blank-faced with a clipboard, the other built like a wall and staring straight through people. There was no line, no signage--just an unspoken understanding that you didn't approach unless you belonged.

Wolf shifted on his feet, eyeing the mix of people being turned away or waved inside. One couple in high fashion ravewear didn't make the cut. A shirtless boy in vinyl pants got in with a nod. It wasn't about looks. It was about vibe. Confidence. The way you carried your freedom.

Anna stepped forward first, chin lifted, posture easy. Her oversized cropped button-up fluttered with her movement, her sheer bra peeking underneath, low-slung cargo pants hanging off her hips, black lace panties just barely visible. She looked like she'd rolled out of a dream and didn't care if anyone followed.

Tristan came next, oozing his usual cool in loose brown suit pants and that sheer yellow shirt, open almost to his navel, chest glinting under the faint light. He offered the clipboard bouncer a familiar smile.

Wolf followed just behind, suddenly hyper-aware of his own skin. The charcoal cotton pants felt looser now, no underwear beneath, and the khaki fishnet tanktop clung to his torso like it was made for this place. He didn't try to pose--just stood there, letting the low hum of adrenaline carry him.

The bouncer looked them over slowly. Anna didn't flinch. Tristan raised an eyebrow. Wolf met the man's eyes and didn't look away.

A pause.

Then the clipboard lifted, and the bouncer nodded toward the door. "Go in."

A breath of relief, masked with a casual smirk. Anna gave Wolf's hand a quick squeeze and led the way.

Inside, the air shifted instantly--thick with bass and body heat. It was dark and pulsing and alive. The walls sweated with sound. Lasers cut through misty fog, painting bodies in flashes of red and violet. Music thundered like a heartbeat with no beginning or end.

There were no mirrors, no stages, no separation--just a sea of people, tangled in dance and desire, every body glowing in their own freedom.

Wolf blinked, breath catching as he looked around.

"You okay?" Tristan leaned in to murmur.

Wolf gave a soft laugh, wide-eyed. "I've never been more okay."

Anna grinned and grabbed both their hands, tugging them toward the crowd. "Let's find the others. Or get lost trying."

The music hit harder the deeper they went, vibrating up through the soles of their boots and into their bones. Smoke curled through the air, catching the light like ghosts, and bodies pressed close without apology--dancing, kissing, swaying in time to a beat that didn't care about control. It just was, primal and consuming.

Anna led the charge, her silhouette flickering in strobes, her cropped shirt open enough now that the lace of her bra gleamed beneath. She didn't push through the crowd so much as melt into it, hips swaying, arms loose, already dancing.

Tristan followed behind, one hand on her waist, the other reaching back for Wolf, pulling him in tight. "Don't think," he said into Wolf's ear. "Just feel."

Wolf laughed breathlessly, already half-lost to the heat. The press of bodies around them was heady--vinyl and sweat, perfume and skin. The music wound around his ribs and shook loose any hesitation. He moved, hips and shoulders catching the rhythm, his hands sliding down Tristan's back, the mesh of his tank clinging to damp skin.

It felt like swimming in desire. All around them: flashes of mouths on mouths, someone getting fingered against a wall, another person on their knees in the crush of dancers, lost in the moment. It was freedom, raw and sweaty and holy.

Anna turned to face them again, eyes glittering, her lips parted as she danced with her whole body. She reached for Wolf, grinding her hips against his with a grin that said she knew exactly what she was doing. He gave back everything she gave--heat, movement, laughter--and when Tristan pressed in behind him, sandwiching him between them, Wolf gasped.

The rhythm swallowed them whole.

They stayed like that for who knows how long, hands and mouths brushing in the dark, tangled in each other and the bodies around them. Every so often, someone passed by and locked eyes--offering, inviting--but they didn't take the bait. Not yet. The three of them were their own orbit.

Eventually, Anna leaned up to speak against Wolf's jaw, her lips brushing his ear. "There's a booth upstairs--balcony level. I think they're there."

Tristan caught the drift and steered them through the pulsing crowd, up a narrow metal staircase that clanged with every step. The balcony opened wide above the dancefloor like a shadowed overlook, bathed in red and indigo.

There, tucked into a crescent booth beneath a web of LED vines, sat a crew that radiated the same chaotic queer magic as Anna and Tristan. Faces lit up when they arrived--cheers, open arms, someone already pouring drinks.

Anna grinned and fell into someone's lap, Tristan followed with a wicked grin, and Wolf--flushed and glowing--took a breath before stepping into the circle, into whatever came next.

The booth was exactly where Anna had said it would be--tucked in the far corner near a mesh-covered window, barely lit, loud with music and laughter. Seven of them in total, some perched on the couch, others sprawled on the floor or leaning on each other, limbs tangled in a way that only came from years of friendship and shared debauchery.

"Ayyy, look who made it!" one of them called, a tall femme with bleached eyebrows and a sequined crop top. They reached out to Anna with both arms, pulling her into a hug that morphed into a lap-sit as Anna laughed and curled into them like she belonged there--which she did.

Wolf watched the exchange with a small smile, until the same femme looked up at him with a glittering grin. "And you brought the boy again. You're spoiling us."

"There they are!" someone else called out, raising a half-finished cocktail. "Took you long enough!"

"I thought you died in the line of slutty duty," another teased, eyes twinkling under rhinestone brows. "But look at you--all alive and glowing and still attached to your pants. Disappointing."

"Barely attached," Tristan shot back, flopping into the open seat like he owned it, his sheer shirt clinging to his skin with just the right amount of drama. "We'll see how long that lasts."

There were more greetings--hugs, high fives, cheek kisses. Most of them had met Wolf at the beach, but the club was different. Darker. Louder. Everything buzzing with that heat unique to places where anything might happen.

"Fuck, you do clean up," someone said, dragging a perfectly winged eye over Wolf's outfit before passing him a freshly lit joint.

"Thanks," Wolf replied, sliding in beside Anna, who smoothly shifted from her friend's lap back to his. She tucked her thigh over his and reached a hand up under the hem of his shirt, fingers grazing lightly at his side like she needed to feel skin.

"Isn't he ridiculous?" she said, looking around with a smirk. "Just a little slut in disguise."

"Girl, we know," someone else chimed in with a laugh, already reaching for the glitter pot.

Wolf took the joint with a small smirk, leaning back like he belonged there--which, at this point, he did. The bass thumped through the floor, vibrating up his spine, and the heat of Anna's body against his made him feel solid, seen. He wasn't just high--he was radiant, a little wild around the edges, soaking in every glance, every approving look like fuel.

Anna turned to him and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to his lips, fingers still tracing along his side. "You're mine tonight," she murmured, not as a question--but a promise.

Wolf met her gaze with a spark of amusement and something darker. "Then claim me right."

That earned a low laugh from her, and a flash of something hungry in her eyes.

Tristan dropped down beside them with a drink in each hand, his sheer shirt now practically second skin. "God, I love this place," he sighed dramatically, handing off one of the glasses. "Who's ready to get even filthier?"

Everyone raised a glass or a joint in a chaotic little toast. Wolf clinked his drink against Tristan's with a cocky little grin, letting the chaos, the heat, the wanting swirl around him.

He was ready. More than ready.

Eventually, someone stood and stretched dramatically. "Okay, sluts. Time to dance."

Their group peeled out of the booth in a flurry of laughter and limbs, spilling onto the dance floor like liquid light. The music thumped, deep and primal, bass vibrating in their ribs.

Anna grabbed Wolf by the hand and pulled him into the middle of it all. The crowd was a blur of skin and movement, flashing lights catching on mesh and sequins and slicked-back hair, and the pulse of bodies moved like heat in every direction.

They danced in a loose cluster--Anna, Wolf, Tristan, and the rest of the crew orbiting around each other in a glitter-dusted constellation. Someone handed Tristan a drink and, moments later, he was laughing with a sharp-jawed cutie in a cinched corset and platform boots, leaning in to talk close, one hand already resting on their hip. The flirtation was obvious, theatrical--Tristan biting his lip, tilting his head in exaggerated interest, giving a full-body shiver when the stranger whispered something in his ear.

Anna watched it happen, amused, and leaned up to whisper in Wolf's ear over the music, "God, he's such a slut when he's drunk."

Wolf grinned, glancing over to see Tristan now grinding slowly against the stranger, drink still in hand like it was part of the choreography. "At least he's hydrated," Wolf joked.

Anna laughed, low and delighted, her breath warm against his neck. "True. Responsible slut."

He turned back to her just in time to catch the way she was looking at him--head tilted, eyes half-lidded, mouth curled into something hungry and soft. Her fingers slid up the line of his torso, under the hem of his fishnet, the tips grazing just enough to make him shiver.

And just like that, the rest of the world dimmed.

She moved closer, bodies brushing from knee to chest, hands bracketing his waist. The music was vibrating through both of them now, syncing their pulses to the beat as she swayed against him, hips rolling slow and heavy. He matched her instinctively, confident in his body, in the attention she was giving him, in the way she seemed to want more of him with every passing second.

Wolf's hand found her lower back, pulling her in closer, and she let herself melt into him--one hand cupping the side of his neck, the other sliding into his hair.

They moved like that for a long moment, the rest of the dance floor a blur around them, until Anna leaned in and kissed him.

This time, it wasn't a teasing peck or a quick flash of heat. It was full, open-mouthed and deep, her tongue claiming his with slow, deliberate pressure. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and he kissed her back hard, matching her intensity, grounding himself in the press of her body, the scent of her sweat and perfume, the taste of her mouth and whatever cocktail she'd just stolen from Tristan.

They broke just long enough to breathe, foreheads touching, and then kissed again like it was inevitable.

Neither of them noticed the cheers from their friends or their shock struck faces. They were in it--high, tipsy, lit from within. Locked in.

Later that night, after the rush of bodies and bass, they slipped away to the rooftop.

It was quieter up there. The music thumped below like a distant heartbeat, while above, the city stretched out in a quiet sprawl, scattered lights blinking like lazy stars. A few others lingered around the edges, smoking or cuddling or just catching their breath.

Tristan perched on the low wall, legs swinging lazily, deep in conversation with the person he'd been dancing with. Their laughter floated over every so often, easy and low.

Wolf and Anna found a spot by themselves, tucked into a corner where the shadows softened everything. She leaned against him, her cheek brushing his shoulder, fingers laced loosely in his.

"This night's kind of perfect," she murmured.

"Yeah," Wolf said, exhaling. "It is."

They sat quietly for a while, the wind tugging at their clothes, brushing warm skin with cool air. Wolf rested his head against the wall behind them, his eyes tracing the skyline. Anna watched him in profile for a moment, then leaned in, her voice soft.

"Can I ask you something?"

He turned to her, one brow raised.

"Why this trip?" she asked. "I mean... not just the vacation vibe. What brought you out here? You seem like someone chasing something."

Wolf let out a low breath, more thoughtful than heavy. "Yeah. That's fair."

He paused, searching for the right place to begin. "I was in a relationship. We were good together--solid, for a while. But a few months back, she got this incredible offer to work abroad. Like... a big dream job. Other side of the world."

Anna nodded slowly, letting him go on.

"She wanted me to come. Or, failing that, to try long distance. And I just... couldn't. It didn't feel right. I wasn't ready to uproot everything, but I also didn't want to be tethered to something that didn't make sense anymore."

His voice had gone quieter now, not sad--just honest. "We talked it through. Said goodbye without drama. It was one of the kindest breakups I've ever seen, actually. But yeah... it left this big space in me. And I didn't want to rush to fill it. I just wanted to be for a while. Follow the pull. Let life show me where I'm supposed to go."

Anna was quiet, tracing her thumb gently along the side of his hand. "That makes so much sense. I... kind of admire that. Letting go of something even when it still had love in it? That's not easy."

He glanced at her. "No. But it felt right. And now, here I am. With you."

Her smile came slow, thoughtful. "So you're in your 'see-what-happens' era."

He laughed softly, eyes crinkling at the edges. "Exactly that."

Anna leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Well... I hope I get to be part of what happens."

Wolf turned toward her then, meeting her eyes like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You already are."

Their kiss came slowly, unhurried, like a secret they were letting each other in on. Tender. Curious. Full of a warmth that crackled just beneath the surface.

And for a little while, they didn't say anything else at all.

The wind had cooled them, but it hadn't dulled the pulse between them. Wolf was still a little high, a little drunk, but clear enough to feel the magnetic pull of Anna's presence, her body tucked against his. They hadn't spoken in a few minutes--just the slow rhythm of her fingers along his thigh, the occasional press of her lips to his neck.

Then she leaned in, mouth just at his ear, and whispered, "I want to show you something."

He turned toward her, eyes narrowing with interest. "Yeah?"

She nodded, already on her feet, tugging lightly at his hand. "Come on."

Wolf followed without hesitation, letting her lead him back inside. The heat hit them again, thick with bodies and smoke and basslines that seemed to climb up through the soles of their boots. She didn't speak, just glanced back at him now and then with a grin that made his blood run faster.