He ended the routine by doing press ups in a thong, flexing his ass. Scott wondered if his ass looked like that. He'd never put on a thong. Maybe it was to do with that kind of underwear. "Would I look good in a thong?" he asked Allison.
She was a little glazed when she looked over to him. "You're good," she said. Then she let out a peal of laughter. "Okay, I can't believe we're doing this."
"It is kinda ridiculous." Scott grinned. "And if the crowd went that crazy for this guy-" The guy took a bow and the crowd screamed and applauded as he dodged off stage. "They're going to go nuts for Isaac."
Allison threw him an unreadable look, a tiny furrow between her eyebrows. Then she grinned. "I'm looking forward to it."
They sat through a few more dancers, sometimes being impressed at their moves, sometimes laughing at the cheesiness of the theme - the whole cop routine had a whole imagine Stiles' dad vibe - and Scott found himself relaxing more and more. It had taken time for him to be comfortable with Allison again, to not remember how much she'd meant to him. But he found he liked the stronger Allison, the confidence and determination outweighing the violence that ran under her skin just like it ran under his.
Finally it was time for Isaac. The room was well-liquored, a bacholerette party leading the way with epic luridly colored cocktails. Scott could feel the heat building again, a wave of warmth accompanied by an unmistakable undercurrent of arousal. Lust. Want. Scott didn't know how he felt about Isaac being subject to that.
The bass line kicked in as the MC finished his introduction. It was low and a little sinister as Isaac strode out to the pole in the middle of the stage. The others had danced around it, leaned - posed - against it. Isaac didn't nothing of that sort. He jumped at it, curling himself around the shiny metal. He was barefooted and bare-chested. In fact, the black pants and the scarf hanging around his neck just made him look more naked, almost, hiding nothing. His shoulders were straight, not slumped as he pulled away from the pole and stretched up in some kind of elegant wave. He fell into the beat of the song again, a ripple of motion, smooth and graceful. His fingers plucked the scarf from his neck and he wrapped it around the pole, leaning back and arching his back.
Scott was aware he was on the edge of his seat, fingers threatening to develop claws dug into his thighs. Allison was shifting beside him, intent as well. He glanced at her parted mouth before snapping his shut and concentrating on Isaac alone. The scarf lay on a pile now as he took to the pole again, writhing against it, spinning and dipping and thrusting his hips in a way that should have been crude but seemed to be something more sophisticated. Even refined. It was gymnastic as Isaac swung himself up, hanging upside down with his legs spread wide. Scott caught sight of a small smile playing around Isaac's mouth, something mischievous, as if Isaac knew exactly what effect he was having on them all.
Or, more precisely, on Scott.
He looked directly at Scott as he tossed his head back, his curls falling down as he used his legs to hold him against the pole. Even in the half-light, Scott could make out how dark and blown out he looked. Nothing artificial would make Isaac look like that, no drugs or alcohol. Only power and ardent need. Scott swallowed, his throat dry, and Isaac's grin dipped into something out and out dirty. The next thing Scott knew, Isaac was kneeling in front of them on the stage and pulling off the thin black pants he'd been wearing, leaving him only in a skimpy pair of underwear.
The crowd screamed but all Scott could hear was the thud of three heartbeats: his own, Allison's and Isaac's.
Isaac flowed to his feet, hips undulating again. He was lean and strong, his abs glistening with sweat now. The room was hot and he was the source of most of the heat. His chest wasn't heaving, in fact, he looked like it cost him no strain to throw his arms up and pull himself around the pole, his biceps flexing. When he wrapped his legs around it, spinning and twirling, his thighs became corded and sleek, the skin smooth and silky looking. Scott's palms itched; he wanted to touch, to feel. To know the heat of them.
She was a little glazed when she looked over to him. "You're good," she said. Then she let out a peal of laughter. "Okay, I can't believe we're doing this."
"It is kinda ridiculous." Scott grinned. "And if the crowd went that crazy for this guy-" The guy took a bow and the crowd screamed and applauded as he dodged off stage. "They're going to go nuts for Isaac."
Allison threw him an unreadable look, a tiny furrow between her eyebrows. Then she grinned. "I'm looking forward to it."
They sat through a few more dancers, sometimes being impressed at their moves, sometimes laughing at the cheesiness of the theme - the whole cop routine had a whole imagine Stiles' dad vibe - and Scott found himself relaxing more and more. It had taken time for him to be comfortable with Allison again, to not remember how much she'd meant to him. But he found he liked the stronger Allison, the confidence and determination outweighing the violence that ran under her skin just like it ran under his.
Finally it was time for Isaac. The room was well-liquored, a bacholerette party leading the way with epic luridly colored cocktails. Scott could feel the heat building again, a wave of warmth accompanied by an unmistakable undercurrent of arousal. Lust. Want. Scott didn't know how he felt about Isaac being subject to that.
The bass line kicked in as the MC finished his introduction. It was low and a little sinister as Isaac strode out to the pole in the middle of the stage. The others had danced around it, leaned - posed - against it. Isaac didn't nothing of that sort. He jumped at it, curling himself around the shiny metal. He was barefooted and bare-chested. In fact, the black pants and the scarf hanging around his neck just made him look more naked, almost, hiding nothing. His shoulders were straight, not slumped as he pulled away from the pole and stretched up in some kind of elegant wave. He fell into the beat of the song again, a ripple of motion, smooth and graceful. His fingers plucked the scarf from his neck and he wrapped it around the pole, leaning back and arching his back.
Scott was aware he was on the edge of his seat, fingers threatening to develop claws dug into his thighs. Allison was shifting beside him, intent as well. He glanced at her parted mouth before snapping his shut and concentrating on Isaac alone. The scarf lay on a pile now as he took to the pole again, writhing against it, spinning and dipping and thrusting his hips in a way that should have been crude but seemed to be something more sophisticated. Even refined. It was gymnastic as Isaac swung himself up, hanging upside down with his legs spread wide. Scott caught sight of a small smile playing around Isaac's mouth, something mischievous, as if Isaac knew exactly what effect he was having on them all.
Or, more precisely, on Scott.
He looked directly at Scott as he tossed his head back, his curls falling down as he used his legs to hold him against the pole. Even in the half-light, Scott could make out how dark and blown out he looked. Nothing artificial would make Isaac look like that, no drugs or alcohol. Only power and ardent need. Scott swallowed, his throat dry, and Isaac's grin dipped into something out and out dirty. The next thing Scott knew, Isaac was kneeling in front of them on the stage and pulling off the thin black pants he'd been wearing, leaving him only in a skimpy pair of underwear.
The crowd screamed but all Scott could hear was the thud of three heartbeats: his own, Allison's and Isaac's.
Isaac flowed to his feet, hips undulating again. He was lean and strong, his abs glistening with sweat now. The room was hot and he was the source of most of the heat. His chest wasn't heaving, in fact, he looked like it cost him no strain to throw his arms up and pull himself around the pole, his biceps flexing. When he wrapped his legs around it, spinning and twirling, his thighs became corded and sleek, the skin smooth and silky looking. Scott's palms itched; he wanted to touch, to feel. To know the heat of them.
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