This is a non-consensual gay erotic story, all characters are 18 or over.
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Axel leant back on his stool, eyes scrolling the club as he nursed his beer, feeling the condensation from the bottle dampen his fingers and radiate a dull chill through his bones.
The music that thumped through the club was loud and jarring, something that was obviously popular among youths. It made Axel feel old in his thirty-two years, made him feel like he didn't belong here.
That was never really a feeling that had left him though, not since he was a young boy-- the feeling of being out of place.
He had achieved a great many things in his life; he excelled in all his schooling, secured a top-tier job at the very top of the corporate ladder-- becoming the youngest CEO in his company's history, and he had built quite the reputation in his respective field, garnering respect wherever he went.
He was also gay.
Everyone who knew him knew that he was, it wasn't a secret, but that didn't stop him from surfing through gay bars across the borderline to pick up men.
It was just easier-- no one knew him, they didn't idolise him and they didn't have some kind of pre-conceived version in their heads about who the great Axel Westwood really was.
Axel could be anyone here.
Except now, though-- because right before him, standing in tight blue jeans that framed his equally tight round ass with a sheer neon green top that almost glowed under the club's strobing amber lights... was Nate Finch.
His high school rival.
He looked different, if not, in some ways, exactly the same. Axel hadn't seen him since they were teenagers, but the man before him now--dancing and smiling care-free with another man-- was disarming.
Painfully gorgeous, even.
His white-blond hair was longer, sitting just a little below his chin, the paleness of it reflecting the colours around him. His mouth was tugged into a wry smile, his lips full and pink and plush-- as if begging to be taken and owned.
Axel couldn't stop staring at him. Not until Nate was suddenly twirling in the other man's arms, twisting to the music with a stretching grin-- and ending in the very spot that was directly in front of Axel's stool, his bright pale eyes catching Axel's gaze and turning that very grin into an expression much closer to horror.
Axel jolted back at that look, his stool rocking at the suddenness of the movement, and by the time he looked up again, Nate was gone.
Something like bitter disappointment gnawed at Axel's gut.
"Fuck."
He bit out, knocking back his bottle and emptying the rest of its contents into his gullet with a scowl.
Axel didn't see the other man for the rest of the night after that, and he tried to be thankful for it. Why the hell would he want to see the single biggest asshole from his school years-- the one who had gone out of his way to torment Axel and his friends? What did it matter that the little shit had somehow grown up to be a walking wet dream?
Fuck him.
A few hours passed after that, and Axel was chatting up some pretty twink with blond hair and blue eyes. Axel tried not examine the reason why he had decided to hit on someone with a passing resemblance to a certain someone... and he tried not to let his mind drift as the other man smiled sweetly up at him and ran his fingers up and down his arm in a way that should have made Axel hard.
"It's a little loud here, right? Did you, um, did you want to maybe come back to my place or--"
The rest of what the blond was saying was quickly cut off when something bowled straight into them... someone with blue jeans and pale, pale hair.
Nate.
"What the fuck is your problem, man!"
Axel's soon-to-be-hookup shrieked, trying to push Nate's slumped body off of him, his pretty face twisting into an ugly scowl.
Axel grabbed for Nate, his large arms quickly winding around the man's slender waist and pulling him up off the other man with surprising ease.
Nate was so much smaller than Axel remembered-- or perhaps Axel was just bigger now, no longer the short stocky boy of his high school years, now over a head taller than Nate with broad shoulders that more than rivalled the other man's almost petite frame.
Axel turned his head to his date, flicking his chin to the side in dismissal.
"Fuck off."
And with that, his pretty would-be hook up scoffed at him indignantly and stormed off.
Axel felt Nate moving in his arms, trying to stand on his own feet and failing with a whimper. Axel pulled him up, balancing him on his knee so that he could look Nate in the face and see what the fuck was going on with him.
What he saw though left him rattled.
Nate looked drunk-- his eyes were glazed and fast-blinking, his mouth ajar and his plump bottom lip trembling. He looked so pale too, more so than what was normal for him.
He looked sick.
"Westwood..."
Nate started, eyes darting sluggishly up and over Axel's face, his hands weakly grabbing at his shirt in a silent plea.
"H-Help, please... in my, drink, someone--"
He hissed out, before his stuttered words slurred into the unintelligible. Axel didn't need further explanation, and with a dawning horror, he realised exactly what had happened.
"Someone spiked your drink?"
Nate nodded quickly, too quickly, his weakened body collapsing further into Axel's grip. He could no longer hold himself up, and his face fell into Axel's neck with another whimper.
"It's ok, I got you, I'll help you."
Axel promised with a grimace, fingers finding their way into Nate's soft hair and stroking it in a way that he hoped was comforting.
With that, Axel paid his tab and quickly made his way out of the club. He decided that hailing a taxi would be safer for both of them in Nate's condition, and once they were both seated and belted up, Axel held Nate close as Nate groaned pitifully into his lap, before finally passing out halfway into the drive.
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