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Pretend. Relive. Regret.

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The music pounds in his ears as Seamus makes his way to the back room. The club is packed tonight; sweaty half-dressed men grinding against each other, their bodies painted in neon lights.

He stumbles past a few blokes, ignoring their fleeting looks, and enters the dimly-lit back room, eyes adjusting to the low light. It's entirely dark, the only exception are the soft glowing lights running along the sticky floor. They meekly shine upwards, bathing the shadowed figures in blue light.

Seamus immediately spots his prey for tonight leaning against the wall, shirtless and trousers already unzipped. The man smirks at him in invitation, his smooth dark skin glowing in the unnatural light. Seamus's mouth waters at the sight, his cock stirring in his pants.

"Do you want this?" the man asks, hand fondling the obscene bulge in his trousers.

His voice is rather posh, not much like Dean's at all, but that doesn't really matter. Seamus wordlessly drops to his knees, hands seeking that hard cock as he pulls it free.

It's heavy and hot in his mouth, and when Seamus closes his eyes he can almost imagine it's Dean. As he bobs and sucks on this strangers dripping prick, he can nearly pretend that it's Dean who's gripping his hair, panting obscenities through clenched teeth.

When the man's hips stutter and Seamus's mouth fills with come, he can tell himself its Dean's bitter seed he's swallowing. He can pretend his best friend didn't push him away, didn't disregard their months of intimacy as mere experimenting.

The pain will fade eventually, won't it? And if it doesn't there are a sea of men out there, waiting in dark corners. Seamus has all the time in the world and no shortage of imagination.