Weightless

**Kellin’s’ POV**
The brightly lit sign of Stingray Club beckoned me from my car. I sighed, knowing I’d regret this later.

“Looks like it’s another night of feeling sorry for myself,” I muttered, slamming my car door behind me. The bouncer just nodded to me, letting me aside. Wow, now I’m that guy. I was now considered a regular at this club. It’s not too hard to believe, since I had spent the last few weekends drowning my sorrows in tequila. It’s hard not to when you find out that your (ex) boyfriend had been cheating on you for half of your relationship. Do I sound bitter? Because I am.

I slid into a barstool, beckoning the waiter away from some bottle-blonde whore he was ogling at.

“A shot of tequila,” I said, and he simply nodded, walking away. I folded my arms and stared at a spot on the bar. I was quickly settling into my weekend routine: drink until I couldn’t see straight, stumble home, and cry myself to sleep. Rinse, cycle, repeat. Needless to say, dragging myself to school every Monday morning was a fucking nightmare.

“Here ya go.” I looked up, startled, as the bartender set my shot in front of me. I threw my head back and downed the drink, relishing the burn of the alcohol as it slid down my throat. I probably looked like a complete buzz kill, sitting sullenly at the bar while everyone else was dancing and flirting, but I could really give less of a shit.

After around my third shot, a guy sauntered up to the bar, two women hanging on either side of him.

“Three Coronas my man,” he said smoothly, and the girls giggled obnoxiously as the bartender mock saluted him and walked away to take his order. I rolled my eyes and turned back to my fourth shot. What a douche.

Well, what a hot douche. The mystery man sat a barstool down from me, his two whores on each side. I snuck glances of him out of my peripheral vision. He was short and tan. I was pretty sure he was Hispanic, judging by the darkness of his skin and eyes. He had hair a little longer than mine, barely brushing his shoulders and hastily swept back by a snapback. His skinny, sinewy legs were covered by what I assumed were black skinny jeans, and he was wearing a shirt that said Key Street on it.

I couldn’t help but notice that he kept glancing in my direction, seemingly distracted from his women. To my surprise, he turned to them and spoke into their ears, and I saw their faces grow angry and embarrassed, stalking off. He slid over to the stool next to me, nudging me with his shoulder. I looked up and he offered me a devious smirk, only lifting the right side of his mouth. I gave him a small smile back, then looking nervously at my drink.

“Hey stranger,” he said, his voice deep and slightly raspy.

“Hi,” I said quietly, still not looking at him.

“So what’s a cutie like yourself doing alone on a Friday night?” he asked, and I hesitated, slightly confused. Wasn’t he just all over those girls not even five minutes ago?

“Um… drinking?” I said nervously, shrugging. The man chuckled and beckoned the bartender over.

“Two shots of Everclear each for my friend…“he looked at me questioningly.

“Kellin.” I looked up and met eyes with him for the first time.

“Kellin, my friend Kellin and I!” The bartender came back shortly, four glasses of the clear liquid sitting on the bar. “Cheers,” said the stranger, winking and taking the shot at the same time as me. We quickly chased it down with the other, slamming the glasses down.

At this point, I had consumed a fair amount of alcohol, and I felt happy. Whenever I got drunk, all the thoughts of Jesse left my head. The stranger beside me pulled me onto the dance floor, gripping my wrist tightly. He dragged me to the middle, roughly grabbing my hips and grinding on me.

Now if I were sober, I probably would’ve pushed him away and walked home. But Drunk Kellin had different ideas. I rolled my hips to the beat of the club remix blaring through the building. When the song ended, I could feel a hand pulling me into a doorway, and I was blinded by the white lights of the men’s bathroom. Before I shook off my disorientation, the mystery man pinned me against the sink, bracing his hands on the edge of it on either side of me. He crashed his lips to mine, aggressively shoving his tongue in my mouth. I responded just as eagerly, wrapping my hands around his hips and pulling him closer. He pulled away, attacking my neck with bites and kisses. I let out a quiet moan as he bit underneath my left ear. He smiled against my skin and bit harder, probably leaving a mark. I wasn’t quite sure when my shirt had come off (or his, for that matter), but I didn’t really care.

“Jump,” he ordered, and I complied, jumping into his arms. He carried me easily into the handicap stall, pulling the door closed and locking it behind him. He let me go and reached for the zipper of my pants, yanking it down and pulling my jeans down, revealing my boxers and my very obvious hard-on. He smirked and palmed me through the fabric, pulling me into another kiss.

I desperately reached for his pants, locating them and all but ripping them off of his body. He also had a very obvious boner, and I reached into his boxers, stroking him. He gasped, throwing his head back in pleasure. I took this opportunity to leave marks all over his exposed collarbone and neck. He quickly stopped me to put on a condom and lube up, but before I could continue where I left off, he picked me up again and thrust into me without any warning. He had me pinned against the wall of the bathroom stall, and this angle felt fucking amazing.

“Oh fuck!” I screamed, gripping his shoulders. I wrapped my legs more tightly around his waist, pulling more of him into me. He groaned, thrusting harder and harder each time. Anyone who walked into the bathroom at this point would probably be scarred. He was fucking me so hard that the entire stall was shuddering with the force of his thrusts.

“Oh my god you feel so good,” he moaned, closing his eyes. His thrusts became sloppier, and he came, a string of curse words tumbling out of his mouth. He reached for my throbbing member, flicking his wrist a few times before I came too, moaning and screaming incoherently. He slowly put me back on the floor, breathing heavily. We got dressed in silence and walked out of the bathroom.

I wasn’t sure of what to do. I wasn’t usually the type for one-night-stands, plus my brain was fuzzy from the alcohol. The least I wanted was to know his name.

“Hey!” I said to his retreating back. He turned back to me, that same smirk he had greeted me with playing on his lips. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“Vic,” He said simply, before turning and walking out of the club.