The conversation turned to lighter topics than fading love, and when they finished the meal, they left, and walked the few blocks to Cubster’s Dance Hall. It was one of the few places in the city where a cub could go to just, well, be a cub–or where anyone could go to be a cub, really, even for just a night. It had a very strict “no daddies allowed” policy–it was strictly for cub-on-cub fun, though daddies could always get a piece of uninhibited cubdom, so long as they imbibed a few of the club’s special drinks first in an antebar. The missing daddies made it a special oasis–after all, a cub around any daddy could find it…difficult to resist, not that they usually objected. It was a constant worry though, in some ways, and having a place to go where you felt a little less of that pressure could be nice for an evening. Wyatt had never been there himself–he’d never really wanted to be a cub for a night, he’d been very happy as a daddy. But now, he was actually rather intrigued, and kind of excited to be going to somewhere rather exclusive–although it wasn’t like Wyatt hadn’t been a feature at several daddy exclusive pipe bars around the city.
The bouncer checked them at the door–and seemed particularly happy about Wyatt joining the party. Inside, the hall inside was all shimmering lights and throbbing music, the scent of musk and sugar on the air. Wyatt would have found it overstimulating before, but now it just felt like pure excitement. Carter got them a couple of cub sodas, and by the time he got back, Wyatt was already out on the dance floor, swaying and gyrating. As his daddy, Wyatt hadn’t had a rhythmic bone in his body–but apparently this new cub was going to be quite the dancer. Carter joined him, after a few sips of the soda–the house drinks always helped him feel like he fit in a bit better, slimming him down slightly, the energy in the room infecting him just a little more. Before too long, he and Wyatt had lost track of time, and of themselves, dancing to song after song, grinding together, enjoying each other, and the longer he was with him there on the floor, the more Carter found himself looking at Wyatt–at his ridged, furry abs and thick chest, strong shoulders and perfect ass. Was it jealousy, or something more? Everything felt a bit slippery, when you were around someone changing. More than a few cubs were eyeing him as well–particularly the sort of cubs who tended to shun daddies entirely, and prefer the company of their own. When they finally exhausted themselves and returned to their sodas, several made passes at him, suggesting they slip away to the back rooms, offering him drinks, but Wyatt politely refused. Still, it was obvious he was enjoying himself, but Carter wanted a break–he suggested he at least take up someone on the offer to dance, and so Wyatt stepped back out onto the floor with a bevy of other men, while Carter sat back, relaxed, and watched the fledgling cub enjoy himself.
Watching with amusement became a certain rapt fascination, and that fascination slowly twisted into something Carter wasn’t particularly familiar with, which was a pounding desire for his friend. Realizing what he was feeling, he nervously took another sip from his soda, but the rush of sugar just tasted cloying and bitter–he gagged on it and spit it back in the glass, confused, until a couple moments later, when a bouncer walked up to him. “Hey, what’s the deal? You know the rules–you’re not usually one to slip away on us, Carter.”
Carter was confused, but the bartender directed him to the mirror behind the bar, and Carter blushed horribly, realizing what had happened. His early twenty-something face had grown a bit craggy–he was, arguably, still a cub, though one who had seen, perhaps, a few too many years to be convincing. “Sorry man, I don’t know what came over me.”
“Well tone it back down, or I’ll have to boot you for the evening. Need another drink?”
Carter shook his head, and took another drink of the one he had, but it tasted even more vile than it had before, and he couldn’t help but spit it out. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”
The bouncer had seen it plenty of times before, and he hauled Carter up from the table and dragged him to the door. It happened to everyone, sometimes, he told Carter a bit apologetically. “Why not try Dickhole for a bit? Plenty of cubs looking for that down there,” he said, and pushed him out onto the sidewalk, “But don’t pull this shit again, got it? I thought you were better than that.”
The bouncer went back inside, and Carter was left standing there on the sidewalk, feeling rather humiliated and horrified–and a bit worried too. Wyatt was still in there, and he might think he’d abandoned him without even saying goodbye. But a moment later, Wyatt, dripping with sweat, exited the building and bounded down the steps to where Carter was standing. “What happened? I saw that guy drag you out, are you–oh…” Wyatt paused. It was getting dark, but he could see the slight shift in Carter’s face, the tinge of silver in his goatee. “Are you…daddying out, man?”
Carter blushed, “Y-Yeah, I guess I did a bit.”
“I’ve never seen you do that before.”
“It doesn’t happen very often, trust me.”
“Was…was it me?”
Carter couldn’t bring himself to say it. It felt so awful, as things had been turning towards friendship, for this to suddenly erupt from him, unasked for. “Look, lets go to Dickhole, alright? I know a few regular daddies who will set me–well, set us–straight right away.”
“You didn’t answer my question Carter, was it me?”
He sighed, “Yeah. Yeah, it was you. You aren’t even my type, and I don’t know why–”
He was interrupted by Wyatt lunging into him, pressing his lips to Carter’s mouth, and the smell of him, sweaty from dancing, the tinge of rubber, Carter couldn’t help but moan into him. “It had better have been me–I was dancing for you, after all.”
Bracken's Corner 