Messy [MxM]

Chapter 1: Lucky

Tyler had checked FetNet right before he'd left for the party, and Justin had very clearly marked himself as not attending. Which was why Tyler was even at Den of Sin, a monthly public play party that he had pretty much given up after the breakup. It was just easier sticking to private events like the ones his own House hosted and which Justin wouldn't dream of trying to get into. Not after what they'd been through.

It had been almost a year since their explosive breakup, yet Tyler still felt sick whenever he saw him—like now. Justin was stripping down to a pair of tiny black underwear (no full nudity allowed at Den of Sin) and allowing his Top to cuff him to the St. Andrew's Cross in the center of the playroom.

Justin had always been a whore for attention. But Satan himself must have been lurking in the Den of Sin tonight because after Justin's Top finished securing a cuff and passed to the other wrist, Justin's gaze landed on Tyler. The purple mood lighting usually made Tyler feel like he was hiding, lurking in the shadows like a snake, but by the coldness that flashed in Justin's eyes, he knew who he was looking at.

The eye contact lasted only a second, but it made nausea rise in Tyler's stomach. He pushed his bangs back from his suddenly clammy forehead.

Skin burning and stomach roiling, he got up from the table he'd been sitting at and headed for the glass double doors which led to the private bar area, where a few people gathered at more tables. Past that lay the truly public part of Crave, a fetish-centric nightclub. Den of Sin was a public party in that it wasn't invite-only, but you still had to be on FetNet to find it, and everybody signed a waiver at the door.

In the main part of Crave, the purple lighting remained, but the electronica vibed louder and faster. Tyler pushed past bodies, too many crammed into one space, his anxiety setting off alarms in his head and urging him to run—

"Hey. Excuse me."

It took Tyler a second to realize the words were directed at him. He found himself in a pocket inside the sea of bodies, a guy with thick dark hair and frantic, shining eyes staring at him.

"Is that how I get to the Den of Sin?" He gestured behind Tyler to where he had come from.

"Yep."

"Thanks." The guy headed for the party, and Tyler resumed his trajectory toward the parking lot.

Outside, the humid summer air was nearly as stifling as the interior of the club, and there was no lack of people crowding the street. Many of them were probably tourists; Philly in the summer always meant tourists.

"Fuck!"

Tyler's gaze followed the shout, which had come from the guy who had spoken to him in the club. He was looking around on the ground and pulling at his hair. Out here, he and his fancy clothes were easier to make out; a short-sleeved button-up with a dark paisley print shone in the night light, as did the flourescent sneakers at the bottom of his black chinos. A tattoo decorated the guy's pale forearm, but Tyler couldn't make it out.

He drifted closer. "Something wrong?" he asked.

The guy's shifty gaze landed on him. His light eyes were accentuated with thick black smokey eyeliner across the bottom lashes. "Yeah, I lost my fucking ID. They won't let me in the party."

"Yeah, well—"

"I had it when I was out here. Just needed a quick smoke before I went in..." The guy headed down the sidewalk to the parking lot, looking all the while, and Tyler found himself searching too. But no plastic rectangle appeared.

"Are you new to the scene?" Tyler asked. He was out doing some kink-related thing every weekend, and he'd never seen this guy at any party.

"No. Just been away." He seemed to give up looking and sighed, pushing his hair back. It managed to look expertly styled despite how he'd been yanking at it.