At the Club


The deep, pulsing beat of the club music was starting to have
quite an effect on Karston, and as he and Spike danced close
together, he could tell that Spike was feeling the same way.
After Lucius and Sal disappeared, Spike and Karston made their
way off to one of the private booths and sealed it with a flick
of a wand. Spike pounced on Karston immediately, kissing him
deeply. Karston leaned back against the wall, running his hands
over Spike's body. "Hot night tonight, isn't it..." Spike
murmured into his neck.

"Oh *yes*." Karston pulled Spike's hips roughly to him, grinding
their pelvises together. He bit Spike's neck hard enough to mark
it and growled impatiently, "Down, boy." He pushed Spike to his
knees. Spike obediently knelt and opened Karston's pants,
snaking his tongue through the opening in his black silk boxers.
"Fucking tease..." Karston moaned, and then became incoherent
quickly as Spike exercised his talent, a few minutes later
calling out Spike's name to the soundproofed walls.

His knees went limp and he sank onto a seat, pulling Spike up to
sit on his lap. "Come here..." he ordered, his hand reaching
into Spike's pants. Spike straddled his lap, thrusting into
Karston's hand, their tongues dueling in another deep, passionate
kiss. "Karston..." he moaned, reaching down to stroke Karston
erect again.  "Fuck me...." he begged.

"Later..." Karston whispered into his ear. "If you're good."
Spike whimpered at the deliberately teasing movement of Karston's
hand on him; Karston's other hand reached around to squeeze
Spike's ass, the fingertips moving over the taut shiny vinyl.

"Please...." Spike gasped in torment. "I'll be good... whatever
you want..."

"I know you will." Karston's low voice reached deep into Spike
and groped his libido. His hands were driving Spike to madness.
Spike had Karston hard again, and Karston leaned back on the seat
to watch Spike's face above him as their strokes matched rhythms.
"And if you want to come soon you'll.... keep... doing *that*.
Oh gods..." They brought each other to climax simultaneously.

"Evanesco. I think you've been good enough... When we get back to
my place," Karston lowered his voice to whisper almost inaudibly
in Spike's ear, "I'll tie you to the bed and fuck your brains out."

Spike started to brush off the dust on the knees of his pants.
It dimmed the shine of the vinyl. "No," Karston stopped him,
"I want everyone to be able to figure out what you've been
doing."

They refastened their clothing and went back out onto the dance
floor.