Neighbourhood Boy
by northern

For Cappuccino, who wanted to know.

The hotel corridor was long and dark, in the way well-lit rooms with no windows are. Kevin's steps were close to soundless on the carpet as he walked from the elevator. He was looking forward to locking the door behind him. It had been a long day, but then, they always were. The U.K. charts were a tough sell, but at least "Anywhere for You" was still climbing. The generic paintings on the wall slid past mostly unnoticed as he waited for his eyes to find the right number. His hand was in his pocket, his thumb playing with the edge of his plastic card key.

Just as he reached his door, another door opened on the other side of the corridor, a few numbers away.

"Kevin," Nick's voice said and Kevin turned around with a sigh. Nick had already closed his door behind him and was walking down the corridor.

"I think I'm going to bed early tonight," he said and leaned against Kevin's door, putting a hand behind his head and stretching, his eyes closing half-way. Kevin stared. He couldn't help himself. The patch of skin revealed just above the waistline of Nick's jeans was mesmerizing. Pale and smooth. The long line of Nick's body was like something soft, pliable, except for in the middle where his hips canted to one side in a hard angle. For a heartbeat Kevin entertained a brief image in his mind of Nick, panting and pressed against the wall. He blinked and shook his head. His eyes reluctantly travelled back to Nick's face. The half-lidded eyes that met his seemed to hide a certain smugness. Kevin wondered if Nick really knew what he was doing, showing off his body like this, like something... common.

"That's... good," Kevin finally said. He tried to collect himself. Nick couldn't possibly mean what his body seemed to promise. "You need more sleep, Nicky." He made himself reach out a hand and ruffle Nick's hair.

The tempting stranger in front of him seemed to fold in on himself under Kevin's hand, his face crumpling into a child's grimace. Kevin felt strangely satisfied. He avoided watching as Nick went back to his room.

The melody was barely audible this close to the speakers. The DJ must not like the descant very much, the way the bass was making everything vibrate. Nick didn't care. His heart was pounding somewhere under the beat, but he couldn't feel it. There was a sense of freedom doing this, sneaking out without even AJ for company. He needed it tonight.

It didn't matter if he had his eyes closed or not. The world was the same - a throng of moving, sweating bodies that held him up and moved him along. He tipped his head back and revelled in the feeling, staring unseeingly into one of the spotlights. Someone tall was pressed tightly along his back, and he ended up with his head on the shoulder of whoever it was. It was a male someone, he could feel that much. Hands landed on his hips and pulled him back. Nick felt himself relax even further, molding himself to the body behind him. He felt light and warm inside as the man started a slow grind against him. 'The truest form of appreciation', AJ called it. Teeth teased his jawbone lightly and he shivered and felt worshipped. He felt his lips stretch into the contented smile he'd practiced so many times it was a reflex.

The bathroom invitation was inevitable, and Nick followed at a suitable distance as the stranger left the dance floor. The darker hallway leading back to the bathrooms was full of people, but not so full that he had trouble making his way. Vague shapes in the dark, they leaned in pairs against the walls in various states of decency. Nick hurried past them, impatient to get to his goal. He was grabbed as soon as he was inside the door and yanked into a booth that locked behind him.

"So pretty," mumbled in his ear as a hand squeezed his ass and Nick felt warm inside again at the words. He pressed himself closer and there was a momentary confusion as the man snaked a hand between them, separating them as he dug in his pocket for a while. The hand emerged with a plastic bag and a small metal tube.

"Want some?"

Nick looked down at the bag. He'd liked it the last time he'd tried it. "Is it good?"

"The best, baby." A small mirror appeared, and Nick held it steady as the stranger carefully poured a mound of white onto it, prodded it into a line with his finger and inhaled it through the tube. He waited impatiently while the man sneezed and swiped at his nose. When it was his turn and he was offered the bag, his fingers almost shook.

The burn when he inhaled was worse than the other time he'd done this and his eyes teared up. He did the other nostril and sneezed a couple of times, shaking his head. Not knowing what to do with the steel tube, he held it in a stiff grip between his thumb and forefinger away from his body. As the sneezes subsided he sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

"Good stuff, huh?" the man said and plucked the metal tube from Nick's fingers, pocketing it again. He shoved the little bag with its remains into Nick's pocket. "You can have the rest."

"Thanks." Nick's heart was beating too fast and he felt light-headed, but that had to be from the anticipation, not the drug. It couldn't have taken yet. There was a too-tense feeling rising through him and clamping up his lungs.

The stranger was looking at him again like he wanted him, and Nick felt instantly better. He stretched, showing off a little under that gaze and relaxed when he heard the broken-voiced "You pretty little boy." A hand closed around his wrist and he was pulled forward. The man was already leaning back against the tile wall of the booth, and it wasn't hard to guess what was wanted of him. He leaned forward and licked at the stranger's throat, grinded in brief gratification against his hip for a moment. Nick's wrist was still held tightly and his hand was guided to the front of the man's jeans, pressed there. He squeezed a little and brought his other hand in to easier open the fly. He mouthed and sucked at the man's neck, listening to him moan, but his head was soon pulled away with a "No marks, no marks."

He felt a bit disappointed, but dropped obediently to his knees. The booth was a little narrower than he would have liked, but it worked. He had gotten the fly open, and he tugged the jeans down a bit. There was a thump from above, back of head against wall, as he nuzzled the hard line of cock through the man's briefs. He knew this. A jolt of excitement through the pit of his stomach pushed him on. He eased down the briefs over the cock in front of him and licked once along it, from the base and up. There was an appreciative moan and something with "...mouth, boy..." mumbled. Nick smiled and sniffled. He leaned forward and licked some more before he slowly sucked the head into his mouth.

A hand found its way into his hair. Nick didn't mind. It made it better. Hotter. He liked to know he was wanted. It made him feel real. The hand fisted his hair in a tight grip, not too painful, and dictated the rhythm for him. He felt good, like a thing that has purpose, drooling around the cock and working his tongue as best he could without being the one in control. Nick let one of his hands squeeze and rub his own erection through his pants while the stranger fucked his mouth. It was the best feeling, suddenly, his mouth filled all the way, and he tried to press himself closer on the down strokes. The cock in the back of his throat made it hard to breathe, but he didn't care. He made wet and whining sounds. At least he thought that was him. It felt like it. There was a pressure blooming hot and wonderful in his brain that was rushing slowly down his spine to his cock. He felt dizzy and boneless. The thrusts against the back of his throat were getting erratic and he kept his eyes half-open as the white noise in his ears and the grunts from above mixed to a high whine in his head.

He didn't notice the thumping on the door until it opened, abruptly. Nick tried to pull back as his eyes struggled to focus on the large shape in the doorway, but the hands gripping his head wouldn't let him go. The man against the wall chose this moment to come in his mouth, and Nick couldn't seem to remember how to swallow for a panic-filled second. Finally, the hands holding him relaxed a little, and Nick pried them lose from his hair. He stood up unsteadily and wiped at his face.

The man in the doorway was saying something. He looked like a bouncer, dressed in black, all big and pumped, thinking he owned the place.

"...have already called him. You don't want to make any trouble, now."

"What the fuck?" Nick heard himself say. His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat, leaning against the doorjamb and squinting. His brain still had that wonderful pressure, just like a flower, reaching out with fresh energy into all of his limbs. He shifted his weight.

"Hey..." the man behind him said and Nick glanced back and saw him slouching on the toilet seat, his jeans still open. Abruptly he felt cold and clear headed.

Nick gestured at him. "You shut the fuck up. I need to know exactly who you called," he added in a measured voice to the man in the doorway.

The bouncer guy launched into a careful rendering of his conversation with Kevin while Nick felt his body tensing with growing rage.

"Fuck!" He jammed the heel of his hand into the open door, made it slam hard against the tile wall. It wasn't satisfying enough and he kicked at it as hard as he could. This time, there was a nice dent in the wood and he was sure he heard some tiles shattering. He shouldered past the bouncer out into the bathroom and went at the rest of the booth doors, kicking them open and broken with his newfound cold energy while voices shouted at him about money and reimbursement and not being welcome here anymore.

He didn't care. Kevin was going to kill him.

"Fuck!" he screamed again and kicked the last door in.

The smoke in the short hallway between the back entrance and the dance floor was harsh and cloying - the floor was thick and smudgy with stepped-on cigarette stumps, some still smouldering. As if that wasn't enough, there was a steady flow of smoking people walking in and out and leaning against the walls. Kevin considered turning around and taking the main entrance instead. The front of the place couldn't be this dingy, and he'd rather spare his shoes. Then the end of the hallway spewed out some artificial smoke, riddled through with shots of strobe lights, and he walked in anyway, gingerly, eyes on the floor to avoid stepping in anything.

The call that had brought him had specified a room behind the bar. The bass made his teeth hum, and he kept his eyes warily on the crowd as he leaned in to ask one of the staff where he should go. He got his answer and made his way through the moving mass of people at the edge of the dance floor. It was really too hot in here for a coat, but he wasn't here to dance. He was here to pick up.

Nick was surprisingly standing when Kevin found him. He was also trying to stare down a huge bouncer, shouting angrily and making increasingly threatening punctuations with his fists in the air. A table and some chairs were turned over. A small bookcase was lying on its side with the books all tumbled out. The bouncer looked like he was hanging on to his self-control with his nails. His eyes flickered to Kevin as he stepped inside. "Are you here to pick him up? He's all yours. And he's not welcome here anymore. He trashed one of the bathrooms too."

Nick didn't seem to notice that anything had changed until Kevin touched him on the arm. Then he spun around abruptly and stared at Kevin with his chest heaving, mouth shut for a moment. His eyes were all pupils and took a moment to focus on Kevin. When they did, the air seemed to whoosh out of the boy in one long breath. Kevin felt very tired. He had hoped that the call would have turned out to be a false alarm.

"Hey, Kevin, you've got to help me with this fucking muscleboy here. He just jumped me. I was havin' some fun, is all. He doesn't have the right." Nick's rapid stream of words stopped, but his body couldn't seem to still itself. He kept making little jumps and stabbing at the air with his hands. Kevin pushed down on his shoulder in an effort to try to keep him in place.

"Oh, yeah," the bouncer said and handed over a small plastic bag. "I got this off of him. I figured you didn't want him dead just yet. The guy he was blowing looked even more wasted. He's underage, isn't he? I'd appreciate it if you took him out of here now." He patted Kevin on the arm and left the room.

Kevin knew what was in the bag before he looked inside, but it still made him take a measured breath. He closed the bag again and put it in his coat pocket.

Kevin trapped Nick's sweat-damp face between his hands and studied his eyes for a minute. They shifted away, looked everywhere except back at him. Sullen boy. Dirty boy. All child again, when he obviously was not. Or maybe he was confusing 'child' with 'innocent', Kevin thought. Which Nick definitely wasn't, not taking drugs like this and blowing people in bathrooms in dirty clubs. Very childish of him, though, putting the band's reputation recklessly on the line like this.

He sighed and released Nick's face, gripping his arm more tightly than he strictly had to.

"Let's go home, Nick. I think we're done here, don't you?"

Nick stumbled after him.