Under Dark Covers - Chapter VII.
Concrete feels.
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The bass was already thumping by the time we stepped inside. It hit like a physical thing, slamming against my chest, vibrating through my bones as soon as we passed through the steel doors of the club. Concrete was dark, industrial but alive.
I was feeling a little off, intoxicated, buzzed, lightheaded from the beers and the excitement of the night. The air was heavy with sweat. As I stumbled through the club, the dimmed lights blurred, flashing erratically, turning everything into a surreal kaleidoscope. The crowd was a mess of faces, arms, shadows each one indistinguishable from the next until the strobe caught their faces, to the point that I couldn't tell where the lights ended and the bodies began.
Logan had already disappeared into the mass of people, the sound of the music pulling him away like a current. Clay was somewhere too, his signature sunglasses barely visible in the dark, but his movements were unmistakable: calm, smooth and gentle. Aaron was close too, but far enough for me to just notice him from time to time.
The world around me was starting to spin in that dizzy, entrancing way that only happens in that place, I wandered deeper into the club, losing track of time. The beats rolled over me, my body responding without my brain needing to tell it what to do. I didn’t even care where I was anymore, or if I had any idea what was going on. The music was all there was: there was nothing else but the rhythm, the pulse, the beats rushing through me.
As I walked, my vision started to warp, the lights twisting like liquid, flashing in waves that didn’t quite match the beats I could feel pounding in my chest. Was I dizzy from the alcohol or from the sensory overload? I couldn’t tell.
My head swam, the edges of the room becoming jagged and blurry, like the world around me was unraveling. I reached out to steady myself, fingers brushing against the cold, metal surface of the bar that seemed to stretch in every direction.
A hand brushed against my back, grounding me for a moment. I turned, half-aware that someone was near, but the world around me was spinning so fast it was hard to focus on anything for long. I barely saw Peter until he was standing right beside me, his presence grounding me back to the reality of the industrial walls of Concrete. I ordered two gin and tonic, clinked my glass to his, and wandered back to the middle of the dance floor again. Alone. But with many around me.
Minutes passed, Logan appeared next to me, shirtless, dancing, lost in his own rhythm, his chest glistening with sweat, his shirt off and tucked into his jeans. He lifted his thumb, asking me without words if I was alright. I simply nodded, and smiled, while slowly caressing my hands on my chest and in my hair as to remind myself that I was here and now by using my touch senses. He disappeared again.
I kept on dancing. Frenetically, unable to stop matching my feet with the beats.
I felt someone approaching from behind, then a head leaning next to mine, then two arms around me, hugging me like a stuffed animal a kid had found again after it being lost. I could feel the warmth of a chest on my back, and the strangling arms around me made me feel safe. I turned around to see it was Peter, his pupils obviously dilated, his jaw swinging slowly to the sides.
We hugged again. The touch of my whole skin on to his was overwhelming his senses, you could see him skyrocket in pleasure from those two seconds of friendship, obviously boosted by whatever substance he had taken to help him reach new levels of consciousness. When we pulled away, our eyes met. Something lingered. The world around us was a mess of noise, flashing lights, bodies, but in that moment we were suspended in a space of silence..
He leaned in, kissing my lips, wordlessly, inexplicably, like a friend, like a way of saying « thank you for being there ». He pulled away and grinned.
Without thinking, I closed the distance again, and without knowing why, I put his face his face in my right hand, strangling his cheeks between my thumb and my other fingers, pushing him back slightly, and giving him a look of anger. I could tell his eyes wondered what triggered this strange reacting from me. Hell, I did not even know.
He tried to speak, probably apologise for his kiss that was unasked for. I released my hand, and leaned in rapidly. His lips met mine, soft at first, but soon, I could feel the heat of his whole mouth, his tongue standing alongside mine, the pulse of the club still echoing in my body, the kiss lingering, deepening… Shifting from friendly to savage.
The knocks of the sound were growing stronger in the back ground. A violent knock. I blinked, disoriented. For a moment, I thought the beat had changed. But something didn’t feel right. It was too regular, too loud, somewhat off-beat.
« Dude! » I heard. The knock seemed stronger, and more and more off beat.
My eyes snapped open. The music was gone. The crowd was gone.
The lights, the rhythm, all of it.
« Dude, you alive in there? ». Charles’ voice. It took me a few moments to realise, but there I was, I was back in my bed, the early morning light creeping through the blinds.
The knock came again, this time louder, a bit more insistent. « Come on, man open up! ».
I sat up, heart racing. The music, the lights, none of it was real.
« Yeah, hang on. » I said in my morning voice. I got up, rushed to the door, half-opening it, putting my one of my elbows at my head’s height to look cool while I answered to Charles, « What’s up man? What are you doing here this early? ».
Charles looked right at me in surprise: « Dude it’s almost noon, and you asked me to come over. ». I took a glimpse at my watch, realised he was right. « Oh shit, yeah, sorry man, sure come on in ». I opened the door, inviting him in to the mess of my studio, my wrinkled sheets still on the bed I had just gotten out of.
As he made a few steps in, he said « Erm, dude, I think you’re… uhm. » with a little smirk and while pointing a finger to my nether region. I looked down to realise he was right. I was stiff. As a board. And it clearly showed in my cotton red Calvin Klein’s.
It took me a couple of seconds to process, after all I had just been waken up pretty roughly. I put both my hands down, covering as much as I could of the obvious bulge that was formed by my shaft heading towards my right leg. « Dude, look away » I said, embarrassed.
Playful, Charles grabbed one of my arms to pull it away and said « Oh come on man, you think it’s the first hard on I’ve ever seen? Nice of you to load it up for me, but I’d really prefer if we’d stay friends though. » Even more embarrassed now, I pushed Charles away further inside the apartment and replied « Oh shut up, you just woke me up, classic case of morning wood » while grabbing my sweatpants. He grinned, and threw himself on the couch as I dressed before saying: « So, what’s with the crown jewels? Did I wake you from a hot scene with a Swedish girl? », referencing that I had been with a lot of blonde girls in the past.
That’s when it really hit me. He had woke me from a kiss with a dude.
I had no idea what to make of that. Was it in fact the whole me kissing Peter in a club that provoked that, or was it indeed a classic case of morning wood? I couldn’t possibly tell him that it was a possibility. I wasn’t even ready to tell myself that.
« Yeah, and she was smoking hot! », I said, faking a smirk but still very confused as to what make of it. « Oh, yeah, I can see that.. Still. » he replied while looking at my crotch and making fun of me. I bent myself in two. « Dude, stop looking at my junk. » I said, and sat on the couch in embarrassment, putting a pillow over my pants until the soldier was at ease again.
« - Sorry man, but I can’t help it if your thing keeps looking at me.
- You’re so gay, man.
- Well, yeah. What did you expect?
- No, yeah, right. Sometimes I forget that you’re into dicks.
- Aw, that’s such a compliment.
- How’s that a compliment?
- Well, it shows that you just see me as a friend, and not just as a gay friend. »
I laughed. In some ways, and without even him knowing it, his words calmed me down and made me remember that there are more things to a man than his sexual orientation, even on the countryside.
There are a lot of things to say about Charles, but he definitely was a man of words. Not always in complex ways, and intelligent wording like Clay, but in the sense that he always knew what to say to me, even if there was no cause for concern. Charles knew me better than he knew himself, and knew everything there was to know about my life, and worst of all: he knew that, making it very difficult for me to hide anything from him. Wether it be my recent experience with Logan, of my even more recent dream with Peter.
Charles said something, something about breakfast, but I didn’t hear it. I was still stuck on my dream, and what happened in it.
« Bro, you okay? » Charles’s voice cut through, and I looked up to find him frowning.
« Yeah, yeah. » I forced a smile.
« - C’mon, talk to daddy.
- Daddy, really? » I said, lifting one of my eyebrows, referring to the fact that Charles was into older guys at that time.
« - Oh you know what I mean.
- Nah man, all good! So tell me about that date of yours last night. » I concluded, trying to change the subject.
Charles paused for a second, still looking at me with that half-concerned, half-exasperated look, but he relented and shrugged it off. He tossed his phone on the coffee table and leaned in the couch, clearly ready to dive into his usual chatter. The momentary tension in the room started to ease.
I sat up a bit straighter, and eventually got rid of the pillow that was covering my pants. My mind was a mess of flashing lights and rhythmic beats, but I was already shifting gears back into reality.
Charles stretched his legs out, looking like he was about to launch into one of his long-winded tales.
Charles had that knack for charm, that kind of effortless appeal that drew people in without him trying too hard. He was already grinning, his mood clearly lifting at the thought of his latest conquest.The whole scene felt far less overwhelming than the strange, intoxicating visions I’d just woken from. The bass from the club faded in my head, replaced with the low hum of Charles talking about his evening. His date had gone well, he said, very well, and his voice carried that mix of excitement and pride, like he’d just told the world’s best story.
For a moment, it felt good to just listen, to be pulled back into normal conversation. The dream whatever it was began to feel less important. Reality, with its usual ups and downs, was settling back in. And with Charles’ easy laughter filling the room, I couldn’t help but let a small, relieved grin slip onto my face.
A few minutes into his story, I heard my phone vibrate on my night stand, and got up to grab it, while still listening to Charles’s latest adventure.
—New text from « TL Peter 🍆 »
Peter: Just polished my spare bike for you, all ready! 🚴♂️✨
Peter: Can’t wait for Saturday man 😎
Peter: Hope you’re ready to sweat 💪🔥
I just looked at the notifications, didn’t open them, and dropped the phone again.
« Who’s that? » Charles asked.
- Nobody. I mean, just Peter. We’re going on a bike ride together on Saturday.
- The nerdy guy with the gigantic schwantz from new year’s eve?
- Yeah, he was over yesterday with Aaron and Logan, remember?
- Right, I just didn’t know you were into cycling.
- I’m not. I mean. I’m trying new stuff, soccer is kinda boring me right now. Anyway, let’s get back to your date. »
I leaned back into my chair, trying to ignore the faint buzzing at the back of my mind and I let Charles’ voice fill the space.
This story is part of a series exploring the outrageous adventures of a tight-knit group of friends. It delves into the chaotic mix of bromance, experimentation, and discovering new boundaries of friendship and pleasure. While purely fictional, some moments may be loosely inspired by the author’s personal experiences. Feedback is always welcome!
Thank you for reading.
