show me, show me
❇ Title: show me, show me + for read0write
❇ Pairing: chen/lay
❇ Rating: soft R
❇ Length: ~4,300 words
❇ Warnings: language + sexual themes + this is a stripper au with no actual, explicit smut, which may be considered offensive in some circles and just plain nonsensical in the rest
❇ Author note: hello read0write! i had a little trouble with these characters, but i do hope you enjoy. thank you to r for emergency beta job, and especially to the mods for their endless, endless patience with me.
(written to miley cyrus' who owns my heart, on repeat.)
❇ Summary: Lay teaches Chen how to pole dance, and Jongdae teaches Yixing how to love.
The club is inconspicuous enough, its entrance just another numbered door along the brick-faced city alley. The nameplate reads TRX in dull, embossed brass. Nothing impressive, really, not from the outside. In the right circles, though, this place is good as legend.
In the entryway, Jongdae is greeted by his new boss and the tease of a heavy bass line whispering through the walls. Suho, an unassuming blond in dire need of a root touch-up, is nothing like the shady, shifty-eyed character Jongdae had been fearing. Can't judge a strip club owner by his profession, apparently.
Suho smiles genially, eyes crinkling as he adjusts the lapels of his suit jacket. "Good evening, sir. Friend of Kai's, yes?"
Jongdae nods, extending a hand. "Kim Jongdae, nice to meet you." Suho's handshake is firm, professional, and Jongdae feels a bit underdressed but offers a charming smile despite it. On the outside, he's dressed simply, like Jongin had suggested, just black skinnies, black sneakers, and a loose scoop-neck tank. On the inside, he's practically vibrating with excitement as he follows Suho down a flight of stairs. His first real job. Granted, embarking on this little journey isn't exactly something he can write home about, but it's a job all the same. It's money, and according to Jongin, who's been working here for almost a year now, it'll be good money once he gets the hang of it. (And this far into Jongdae's spiral into immorality, he doubts his mother would even bother trying to fix him if she happened to find out.)
Suho's voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and Jongdae realizes they've stopped in front of a heavy-looking metal door. The bass is much louder and thumpier here. "Why don't you take your time observing, first?" Suho still has that warmth in his eyes and that confident lilt in his voice. Jongdae's just eager to get started, but it's clear that it's not really a question. "The atmosphere, the clientele, the dancers... Tonight, all of your expenses as a patron will be convered by yours truly." Jongdae smirks to himself at that and Suho pauses with a hand on the lock, waits for Jongdae to make eye contact. "Though you may be familiar with the industry, don't assume that you won't be impressed. I assure you, TRX is a gentlemen's club unlike any other..."
The door slides open smoothly, and the first thing to hit Jongdae is the noise. It's not just loud-Jongdae's pretty sure it's not loud, actually-but the currently-playing dubstep beat is in his head, worms its way in to settle in his eardrums like he's wearing studio quality headphones. It's the most bizarre sensation to see the speakers subtly nested under tables in front of him, yet still feel the music in the very core of his being. The way the crowd's voices layer over the music in his head makes him feel like he's drowning, or intoxicated, or both. He looks over to Suho, to see if he feels it too, but the owner just nods knowingly, gestures broadly, and slips away.
Jongdae looks around, Suho's words replaying in his head. Gentlemen's club. It's not like there's an abundance of them, even in such a big city, but Jongdae's been to a few. There're the lights, the buzz, the wolf whistles. There always are. But it's different here, Jongdae realizes as he takes in the crowd. This place is truly filled with gentlemen.
There's not a single patron in sight without a suit on. Most have shed their jackets and rolled the sleeves of their button-ups, leaving a taliored jacket hanging from the back of nearly every seat in the house. Men with slicked-back hair and shark teeth-young, attractive men, every last one of them. The city gay scene's best-kept secret, evidently. Jongdae's in heaven. He puts on his best pout, charms a drink out of a tall man with a flashy rolex, and settles down on a plush futon to watch the show.
More attractive men, now. A seemingly endless stream of them, a constant tag-team flowing in and out of entrances hidden on every wall of the club. These ones are half-naked and shimmery: the dancers, the strippers, the entertainers. Eye candy in a sea of eye candy. Some find the laps (and generosity) of hazy-eyed businessmen, who disappear for a song or two and return looking even more dazed. Others find their way on stage, hip-thrusting through sinfully sheer spandex and showing off their bulging triceps as they suspend themselves midair on the main pole, center-stage. Two pretty boys make out on a side stage for six minutes straight, the spotlight drawing out their slick skin and colored eyeliner. And underneath it all is the consistent pulse of music worming its way through his brain.
Being alone and underdressed draws people's attention. Jongdae flirts, teases, enjoys himself, rejects an offer or two for a private dance. Suho is nowhere in sight, and he catches sight of Jongin only once. Little Kim Jongin, the golden child, all grown up and rebellious. Jongdae can't deny his attraction to the sheer passion in Jongin's-Kai's-performance, but it's still his best friend's little brother. When it comes to messing around, Jongdae's made a lot of questionable decisions in his life. A nice handful of outright bad decisions, too. Kim Jongin will not be one of them. Jongdae shakes his head to himself, turning his back and wandering to the bar.
He's interrupted by a hand gently sliding up his forearm as a dancer brushes past. Then the guy's sneaking a glance back, a playful glint in his eye, before walking on. Different from Xiumin's straightforwardly promising offer, different from Taozi's aggressive pouts when Jongdae had hesitated. This is a tease, a deliberate come and get me, and it's so obvious. Jongdae blames the distaction of his momentary Jongin crisis for the way he gives in, catches up, agrees. Anyway, it's a good idea to check out his soon-to-be competition. Jongdae doesn't like turning down challenges. That's all. The weight of the guy's satisfied little smile has nothing to do with it.
Except they get into a private room, heavy curtains subduing the club's speakers, and in the sudden silence of his mind, Jongdae realizes that the smile had everything to do with it.
There's not much time to dwell on that realization before Jongdae's pushed into a chair and the dancer steps back, starts his own music. It's bass-heavy and pounding, like every other song played tonight, and it sinks into the ears in that familiarly chilling way. Then everything's a blur of careful motion and sensual, sinful eye contact. Everything's sharp jawline, pursed lips, and delicious dips of shadow along the dancer's abs as he teases off his sheer, gauzy top.
And Jongdae's done this before. He's been in this position before. He keeps his composure, plays his part. Keeps his eyes sharp, his lips quirked into a pleased smirk, hands resting still at his sides. Inside, though. Maybe there was something in his drink, but inside, he's almost dizzy with want. The dancer's eyes are fire, his movements flooded with pure charisma. He's nothing short of-breathtaking. Jongdae can't tear his gaze away as he's straddled, grinded against. And Jongdae's always been good at acting, good at restraining himself, but he can't help the way his jaw goes slack, hands automatically coming up to grip at the dancer's hips.
"Uh-uh," the dancer chatises, amused. "I know you know the rules. Can't touch." He slaps Jongdae's hands lightly away for emphasis. "You can tell me your name, though."
Jongdae sits on his hands, determined not to let his breath catch. "It's-Jongdae."
He regrets answering almost immediately. "Jongdae," the dancer mutters, and cants forward. He swivels his hips, cock visibly bouncing beneath his gold hot pants-TOUCH printed bold across the ass-and Jongdae's arousal sparks, flames. "God Jongdae," he moans again, a hoarse whisper against his neck, and Jongdae shudders, tips his head back.
"Yours-What's yours."
Jongdae gets a hum in response, a light smile to contrast the sharp roll of hips, and the dancer's voice is unfairly even. "Call me Lay."
The song ends with a sizzle, Lay's name hanging in the silence, a surprisingly soft voice once it's not shrouded in synths and huskiness. Then he's off, eyes bright because he's still playing some game that has clearly been won.
Jongdae's left with a frustrating hardness and an absolutely racing pulse as Lay vanishes through the black curtains. He waits for his heart to calm and when he finally makes his way back to the main floor, Lay is nowhere in sight and the music works its way back into his mind. Time for another drink, then. At the bar, Jongdae strikes up conversation with a cute artsy type, with puppy-dog eyes and sharp, sharp teeth when he tilts in to nibble at Jongdae's lip.
In the midst of this, Jongdae still manages to keep an eye out for Lay. Instead of finding him, he catches Suho's gaze across the floor, and flinches back from puppy-boy's mouth with an apologetic smile. In the next instant, Suho appears at Jongdae's side, making him jump. "Having a good evening, I presume?"
Jongdae shakes his head, or maybe nods, and turns the charm up full-force. "Yes, sir." He's a bit tipsy, though. And Suho's crow's feet have to be implants, or something. It's just not possible for someone to look so genuinely happy all the time. Jongdae's always been good at reading people, picking them apart, but Suho's expressions are confusingly straightforward. He's either entirely genuine or disturbingly good at faking like he is. Jongdae frowns as he shakes it off, taking his time to remember the thread of conversation and hopefully looking cute in the process. He's been told his drunk thinking face is very appealing, after all. But that's not the point. Right. The point is, this night's been one of the best in recent memory. "Ah-very good. Very pleasant experience. You run a good show."
"Perfect. Let's get down to business, then." Suho's smile somehow manages to take a turn for the better as he sets a hand on the small of Jongdae's back, directing him through the crowd. "And I'm glad to hear it. Jo-" Suho clears his throat, and his eyebrows furrow for the tiniest millisecond when Jongdae glances over. "-Kai was worried that you wouldn't enjoy yourself." He chuckles, delicate and professional in a mildly appealing sort of way. "I never have doubts about that sort of issue, of course. I have a lot of faith in the TRX."
"Of course, of course," Jongdae echoes obediently, only hesitating for a half-second when they enter one of those hidden employee-only hallways. "Your trust is very well-placed, honestly. I..." He trails off as they cross a threshold into a brightly lit, bustling dressing room, and Jongdae immediately spots Lay amidst the chaos. "Oh, wow."
Suho subtly follows his gaze and brightens, calling Lay over. It literally feels like slow motion as Jongdae watches his head turn, watches the dancer cycle through the gamut of facial expressions: neutrality, curiosity, confusion, and then... the tell-tale flicker of recognition. And then confusion again. In Jongdae's mind, it's the good kind. It's more, What's Jongdae doing back here? Am I really blessed with the opportunity to see him again and apologize for leaving him high and dry?; less What's this creep doing back here? I mean, he is attractive, but I was just doing my job. Doesn't he know that following people around is a turn-off?. Jongdae makes sure to look as friendly, forgiving, and non-creepy as possible as he reacquaints himself with the delicious reality of that body. Damn.
"Yes?" Lay's standing in front of them now, looking back and forth between Suho and Jongdae with that same little curious squint, and oh. In the light, without the heady sexual contexts of a strip club, his face is really... soft. While he was dancing, Jongdae had only really noticed his jawline, his collarbones, his muscle. His hips. The dark shadows of his brow. Up close, though, his cheeks are soft, his eyes are soft, his lips are soft, and he has perfect dimples to boot. The unexpected contrast between Lay's body and face draws Jongdae's brows into his own confused expression.
Suho seems completely oblivious to the confusion, but Jongdae's a tiny bit suspicious of that breezy smile as the two are (re-)introduced. "Lay, this is Chen. Chen, Lay."
Chen, right. Jongdae had almost forgotten about the whole new name thing. He remembers choosing it-something short, simple, easy to remember, Jongin had told him-on a whim, without much thought. Now, he looks over at Lay and finds his own curiosity mirrored. Lay must be a fake name, too. Jongdae'll have to ask about that. For now, he smiles warmly, forcing down a flush. "Pleasure to meet you, Lay. You know, you look really familiar for some reason."
"As do you, for some reason." The corners of Lay's lips tilt up as he nods. An oddly serene smile, Jongdae thinks as he compares it to Lay's sultry smirk in his head. "It's nice to meet you. New recruit?"
Jongdae grins. "Your new co-worker. Surprise!" Small world.
Suho looks amused as he watches the exchange, and then he turns to Jongdae. "Not quite yet, Chen. As Lay knows, no one here works until completion of a few days of training sessions with a TRX veteran. Your first performance night will be one week from now. Until then..." He talks to Lay, now. "...Lay, you will be in charge of showing him the ropes, getting him accustomed to basic rules and procedures, and teaching him the standard rookie routine. Okay?"
A match made in heaven. They both nod. "If both of you are available, you may commence training immediately," Suho finishes, and when Jongdae blinks, he's already disappeared in that strange way of his.
"Chen, hmm? Are you available for the rest of the night?" Lay's lips are quirked up again with amusement, and he regards him carefully. Definitely a positive, Jongdae thinks, that Lay doesn't appear to think he's a stalker.
"Yup. Definitely. Allll night~" He grins and winks, because, him and Lay training alone all night? Getting some action with the hot stripper will be way easier than he expected.
--
Except it's not easy, not easy at all.
It starts with the names. Yixing flicks on the lights of the little dance studio on the third floor of TRX's building and starts the music with a light, "I don't know how well you can dance, but just try to follow along for now, okay Chen?"
And Jongdae nods, steps around the intimidating floor-to-ceiling poles installed around the room, because he's absolute shit at dancing but Lay's just doing a simple two-step. He can handle that, at least. He can handle that and have breath left to talk, so he does. "I'm terrible at dancing, and by the way, you don't have to call me that. You can call me Jongdae. Chen's just-you know, the stage name, or whatever. ~Stripper~ name."
Lay nods and starts swinging his arms in time to the beat. "Jongdae, then." A little flat, and his lower lip's caught between his teeth.
Jongdae, being Jongdae, is watching Lay closely and notices. The little slip of emotion could just be concentration, but it could also be... doubt? Jongdae's brow furrows, and he manages to add in the arms. "By the way, earlier tonight... That wasn't... I didn't plan that, or anything." He watches Lay in the mirror, almost tripping to catch up when the beat picks up. "Just so you know. I wasn't trying to- Set you up or anything. If that's what you thought. Yeah." Well, he was kind of trying to do something, but.. God, since when has he been so awkward?
Lay relaxes visibly in the mirror, though, as he eases Jongdae into a little bit more complex step sequence. "Really? Seemed like it." And Jongdae watches some of the tension drop from Lay's shoulders, and it's amazing how much he wants to kiss him right now. But he can't, because they're dancing. Actually training, instead of what his overactive imagination suggests that they should be doing in a room full of mirrored walls.
"Really really." He shuffles a little closer, struggling now, to keep up with Lay's extra steps. After a few more futile measures, he figures he might as well just lay out all his cards now. "So yeah. I'm Jongdae. I suck at dancing, but I can hip thrust and body roll pretty well. And I was on the swim team for one season in high school. So I'm pretty used to embarrassing myself while half naked." He sighs, gives up on the dance, and pauses to wipe his already-forming sweat. "That's all there is to it, right?"
Lay smiles again, that close-lipped smirk thing, and shoves at Jongdae's shoulder. "Something like that. But you're not going to get anywhere if you can't do basic steps. So follow."
Jongdae sighs, more heavily this time. Melodrama at its finest. (All his cards.) "Okay, honestly? I kind of would be totally up for it if you wanted to quote-unquote 'do something'. Especially if it involved, you know. Lips. Our lips. Kissing and shit. Messing around, etcetera. That would be great. But just to be clear, I'll still work and train for you if not. I'm not that shallow."
It takes a several long, agonizing, silent moments for that to sink in, but Lay finally nods, tentative. Hesitant, unsure. "We should.." He shakes off whatever was on his mind, and readjusts his tank top. "Use kisses as motivation, though. Reward kisses only." Lay takes a step toward Jongdae and hesitates before pulling him into a brief peck. "No free kisses."
Jongdae pulls back, momentarily sated. Looks like anything more is completely out of the question, but... He can definitely settle for just kisses, for now.
They prove to be great incentive as the night wears on, and as they get more comfortable with being close, the rewards keep getting better. It's far past midnight when Lay finally calls it quits, but it sort of flew by for Jongdae.
"You never told me your actual name, by the way," he whines, breathless as he goes to grab his phone and wallet from the shelf by the door. "No fair. You learned mine ages ago!" Hours, really. Earlier tonight, really. It feels like much longer, though. It feels like he's learned so much since then.
"Oh, that..." Lay hesitates, glances down. "That, you'll have to work for, too. You'll have to earn it."
--
It takes Jongdae all of the next practice and most of their third to do so. He tries, though. That's his motivation, really, hour after hour of physically painful exercise. Waking up every morning with essentially useless, sore limbs, that's his motivation. And honestly, he thinks he knows why he cares so much. Something to do with the increasingly frequent kisses, and some sneaky feelings attached to them, that have begun to creep up uninvited.
"Jongdae," Lay pants at the end of their third session, pressed up against the cool studio mirror. They're both dripping with perspiration and Jongdae's pretty sure his arms are going to fall off, but mostly he's proud of himself. He just ran through his complete routine for the first time. Even did his little pole trick without missing a beat, and then he'd come straight in for a kiss to collect his reward. His teacher indulges him, then gifts him one more: "I'm- You can- Yixing. My name is Yixing."
Jongdae almost pulls back, eyes widening. He's never had any reason to keep his identity secret-people who know him by his reputation would not be surprised in the slightest to find out that he's a stripper-but it's different for Lay-for Yixing. Jongdae doesn't know specifics, knows, somehow, that this is important. He thinks he'd like to learn the specifics, too. Learn more about this interesting, surprisingly innocent, cute sweetie of a stripper. And, not to be overdramatic, but he's pretty sure his heart skips a beat when he goes in for another kiss. That's gotta mean something, but he pushes it to the back of his mind for now. "Yixing," he repeats. "Yixing, Yixing, Yixing." Thank you for trusting me.
--
At the end of their next and last session, when they're finished and sweaty and Jongdae has happily said Yixing's name at the end of every single sentence for the past four hours, Yixing smiles. Jongdae is pulled in for a deep, heady smooch, and a whisper: "You're ready."
--
Jongdae decides to keep the glitter light, dusting a thin layer across his collarbones and nowhere else. He wants to wow the crowd on his big debut night, not blind them. His eyes are lined to make him feline, make him fierce, and Yixing made sure to muss up his hair extra well in the stairwell.
He gets dressed, jacks himself hard for maximum effect. Then he slides on his main attraction-silver hot pants, to match Yixing's gold, with SEXY across the butt. They're awkward, but he kind of really loves them, loves the picture of Yixing picking them out for him, and-like Yixing said-he's ready. He's so ready to get up on stage, with the lights and the buzz and the intoxicating music, and the crowd. All that's running through his mind as he hovers behind the stage door is what kind of reward he can weasel out of Yixing after this. Eyes on the prize. And then there's the familiar four-count of his routine's song, and he steps out on stage with the comfort of Yixing's eyes watching him.
--
He's practically bouncing with energy as he makes his way off stage.
Backstage, Jongin appears to be in deep conversation with Suho, Xiumin's flicking idly through his cell phone as he waits for his next cycle, and Taozi's busy fixing his eyeliner in his vanity. Everyone else is buzzing around as usual, oblivious to how solidly Jongdae just killed his routine. Yixing's really the only one who takes notice when Jongdae floats in, since he was watching the whole time. It's not like Jongdae was expecting a big welcome committee, but honestly, it's a little disappointing. But Jongdae takes it all in stride. A few party poopers can't kill his vibe or his performance high. There have been worse disappointments in life, and tonight, he cares the most about what Yixing thinks, anyway.
And how can he be upset when Yixing's mouth has stretched into a grin far wider than his default smile, with teeth and everything? How can he be upset when Yixing answers his raised, expectant eyebrows with a tight hug and a whispered "Perfect, Jongdae," into his ear? He can't be. Nope. Not possible.
But he milks it anyway, plays it up a little. Bites his lip, drops his gaze and glances hesitantly around the oblivious room. "You really think so?"
Yixing rolls his eyes and takes Jongdae by the wrist, pulling him out of the dressing room. "Know so. Don't push it, babe." Babe. Jongdae melts, just a teensy tiny little bit, at the pet name. They've only known each other for a week, and they haven't gone past grinding and making out, but it's... It's nice, he thinks. Yixing's nice, and it's a nice change of pace for Jongdae to take things slow for once, testing the waters for something beyond mindless sex. Being called 'babe', even sarcastically, seems like a great new development. Especially coming from someone who turned out to be so unbelievably sweet.
Yixing knows he's struck a good note with that, and though his smile goes back to being subdued, the happiness in the rest of his face doesn't fade. It's the same half-smile as always, almost hesitant now, but Jongdae's always been good at reading people, picking them apart, and Yixing's eyes are soft with fondness as he drags Jongdae through a familiar set of curtains. It's here that he takes a little control back; it's this part of their progression that Jongdae leads.
"Hmm...," Jongdae starts sweetly, tracing a finger down Yixing's jaw in the darkness. "We both know the rules, right?" His voice drops, then, a subtle shift in tone. "But it's okay to break them sometimes." Right about now seems like a great time to do some rule-breaking, actually. He wraps his arms around Yixing's neck, presses a kiss to his lips. Light, chaste. "So right now, we're going to celebrate. You're allowed to look and you're allowed to touch." Another kiss, right under the jawline, and Yixing looks so good, so open and willing as his eyelids flutter shut. "You can want." He takes Yixing's hand, presses it to his own erection, groans in encouragement when Yixing slips it under the fabric and squeezes experimentally.
"You can trust..." Jongdae still has a lot to learn about Yixing's craft, but maybe he can teach Yixing a trick or two along the way. Yixing sighs weakly when Jongdae starts to mouth at his neck, his oh-so-sensitive neck, and this is almost too easy, too simple. Jongdae's there to catch him when his knees start to buckle. He seats Yixing in the same chair from a week ago, straddling him as he's hit with some weird, erotic sense of déjà vu.
This isn't love, it's not even close, but it's more than plain attraction, and definitely more than lust. Maybe, maybe one day. "...And." Jongdae leans in close, whispers the last bit into Yixing's parted lips. "And, you're allowed to feel."
❇ Pairing: chen/lay
❇ Rating: soft R
❇ Length: ~4,300 words
❇ Warnings: language + sexual themes + this is a stripper au with no actual, explicit smut, which may be considered offensive in some circles and just plain nonsensical in the rest
❇ Author note: hello read0write! i had a little trouble with these characters, but i do hope you enjoy. thank you to r for emergency beta job, and especially to the mods for their endless, endless patience with me.
(written to miley cyrus' who owns my heart, on repeat.)
❇ Summary: Lay teaches Chen how to pole dance, and Jongdae teaches Yixing how to love.
The club is inconspicuous enough, its entrance just another numbered door along the brick-faced city alley. The nameplate reads TRX in dull, embossed brass. Nothing impressive, really, not from the outside. In the right circles, though, this place is good as legend.
In the entryway, Jongdae is greeted by his new boss and the tease of a heavy bass line whispering through the walls. Suho, an unassuming blond in dire need of a root touch-up, is nothing like the shady, shifty-eyed character Jongdae had been fearing. Can't judge a strip club owner by his profession, apparently.
Suho smiles genially, eyes crinkling as he adjusts the lapels of his suit jacket. "Good evening, sir. Friend of Kai's, yes?"
Jongdae nods, extending a hand. "Kim Jongdae, nice to meet you." Suho's handshake is firm, professional, and Jongdae feels a bit underdressed but offers a charming smile despite it. On the outside, he's dressed simply, like Jongin had suggested, just black skinnies, black sneakers, and a loose scoop-neck tank. On the inside, he's practically vibrating with excitement as he follows Suho down a flight of stairs. His first real job. Granted, embarking on this little journey isn't exactly something he can write home about, but it's a job all the same. It's money, and according to Jongin, who's been working here for almost a year now, it'll be good money once he gets the hang of it. (And this far into Jongdae's spiral into immorality, he doubts his mother would even bother trying to fix him if she happened to find out.)
Suho's voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and Jongdae realizes they've stopped in front of a heavy-looking metal door. The bass is much louder and thumpier here. "Why don't you take your time observing, first?" Suho still has that warmth in his eyes and that confident lilt in his voice. Jongdae's just eager to get started, but it's clear that it's not really a question. "The atmosphere, the clientele, the dancers... Tonight, all of your expenses as a patron will be convered by yours truly." Jongdae smirks to himself at that and Suho pauses with a hand on the lock, waits for Jongdae to make eye contact. "Though you may be familiar with the industry, don't assume that you won't be impressed. I assure you, TRX is a gentlemen's club unlike any other..."
The door slides open smoothly, and the first thing to hit Jongdae is the noise. It's not just loud-Jongdae's pretty sure it's not loud, actually-but the currently-playing dubstep beat is in his head, worms its way in to settle in his eardrums like he's wearing studio quality headphones. It's the most bizarre sensation to see the speakers subtly nested under tables in front of him, yet still feel the music in the very core of his being. The way the crowd's voices layer over the music in his head makes him feel like he's drowning, or intoxicated, or both. He looks over to Suho, to see if he feels it too, but the owner just nods knowingly, gestures broadly, and slips away.
Jongdae looks around, Suho's words replaying in his head. Gentlemen's club. It's not like there's an abundance of them, even in such a big city, but Jongdae's been to a few. There're the lights, the buzz, the wolf whistles. There always are. But it's different here, Jongdae realizes as he takes in the crowd. This place is truly filled with gentlemen.
There's not a single patron in sight without a suit on. Most have shed their jackets and rolled the sleeves of their button-ups, leaving a taliored jacket hanging from the back of nearly every seat in the house. Men with slicked-back hair and shark teeth-young, attractive men, every last one of them. The city gay scene's best-kept secret, evidently. Jongdae's in heaven. He puts on his best pout, charms a drink out of a tall man with a flashy rolex, and settles down on a plush futon to watch the show.
More attractive men, now. A seemingly endless stream of them, a constant tag-team flowing in and out of entrances hidden on every wall of the club. These ones are half-naked and shimmery: the dancers, the strippers, the entertainers. Eye candy in a sea of eye candy. Some find the laps (and generosity) of hazy-eyed businessmen, who disappear for a song or two and return looking even more dazed. Others find their way on stage, hip-thrusting through sinfully sheer spandex and showing off their bulging triceps as they suspend themselves midair on the main pole, center-stage. Two pretty boys make out on a side stage for six minutes straight, the spotlight drawing out their slick skin and colored eyeliner. And underneath it all is the consistent pulse of music worming its way through his brain.
Being alone and underdressed draws people's attention. Jongdae flirts, teases, enjoys himself, rejects an offer or two for a private dance. Suho is nowhere in sight, and he catches sight of Jongin only once. Little Kim Jongin, the golden child, all grown up and rebellious. Jongdae can't deny his attraction to the sheer passion in Jongin's-Kai's-performance, but it's still his best friend's little brother. When it comes to messing around, Jongdae's made a lot of questionable decisions in his life. A nice handful of outright bad decisions, too. Kim Jongin will not be one of them. Jongdae shakes his head to himself, turning his back and wandering to the bar.
He's interrupted by a hand gently sliding up his forearm as a dancer brushes past. Then the guy's sneaking a glance back, a playful glint in his eye, before walking on. Different from Xiumin's straightforwardly promising offer, different from Taozi's aggressive pouts when Jongdae had hesitated. This is a tease, a deliberate come and get me, and it's so obvious. Jongdae blames the distaction of his momentary Jongin crisis for the way he gives in, catches up, agrees. Anyway, it's a good idea to check out his soon-to-be competition. Jongdae doesn't like turning down challenges. That's all. The weight of the guy's satisfied little smile has nothing to do with it.
Except they get into a private room, heavy curtains subduing the club's speakers, and in the sudden silence of his mind, Jongdae realizes that the smile had everything to do with it.
There's not much time to dwell on that realization before Jongdae's pushed into a chair and the dancer steps back, starts his own music. It's bass-heavy and pounding, like every other song played tonight, and it sinks into the ears in that familiarly chilling way. Then everything's a blur of careful motion and sensual, sinful eye contact. Everything's sharp jawline, pursed lips, and delicious dips of shadow along the dancer's abs as he teases off his sheer, gauzy top.
And Jongdae's done this before. He's been in this position before. He keeps his composure, plays his part. Keeps his eyes sharp, his lips quirked into a pleased smirk, hands resting still at his sides. Inside, though. Maybe there was something in his drink, but inside, he's almost dizzy with want. The dancer's eyes are fire, his movements flooded with pure charisma. He's nothing short of-breathtaking. Jongdae can't tear his gaze away as he's straddled, grinded against. And Jongdae's always been good at acting, good at restraining himself, but he can't help the way his jaw goes slack, hands automatically coming up to grip at the dancer's hips.
"Uh-uh," the dancer chatises, amused. "I know you know the rules. Can't touch." He slaps Jongdae's hands lightly away for emphasis. "You can tell me your name, though."
Jongdae sits on his hands, determined not to let his breath catch. "It's-Jongdae."
He regrets answering almost immediately. "Jongdae," the dancer mutters, and cants forward. He swivels his hips, cock visibly bouncing beneath his gold hot pants-TOUCH printed bold across the ass-and Jongdae's arousal sparks, flames. "God Jongdae," he moans again, a hoarse whisper against his neck, and Jongdae shudders, tips his head back.
"Yours-What's yours."
Jongdae gets a hum in response, a light smile to contrast the sharp roll of hips, and the dancer's voice is unfairly even. "Call me Lay."
The song ends with a sizzle, Lay's name hanging in the silence, a surprisingly soft voice once it's not shrouded in synths and huskiness. Then he's off, eyes bright because he's still playing some game that has clearly been won.
Jongdae's left with a frustrating hardness and an absolutely racing pulse as Lay vanishes through the black curtains. He waits for his heart to calm and when he finally makes his way back to the main floor, Lay is nowhere in sight and the music works its way back into his mind. Time for another drink, then. At the bar, Jongdae strikes up conversation with a cute artsy type, with puppy-dog eyes and sharp, sharp teeth when he tilts in to nibble at Jongdae's lip.
In the midst of this, Jongdae still manages to keep an eye out for Lay. Instead of finding him, he catches Suho's gaze across the floor, and flinches back from puppy-boy's mouth with an apologetic smile. In the next instant, Suho appears at Jongdae's side, making him jump. "Having a good evening, I presume?"
Jongdae shakes his head, or maybe nods, and turns the charm up full-force. "Yes, sir." He's a bit tipsy, though. And Suho's crow's feet have to be implants, or something. It's just not possible for someone to look so genuinely happy all the time. Jongdae's always been good at reading people, picking them apart, but Suho's expressions are confusingly straightforward. He's either entirely genuine or disturbingly good at faking like he is. Jongdae frowns as he shakes it off, taking his time to remember the thread of conversation and hopefully looking cute in the process. He's been told his drunk thinking face is very appealing, after all. But that's not the point. Right. The point is, this night's been one of the best in recent memory. "Ah-very good. Very pleasant experience. You run a good show."
"Perfect. Let's get down to business, then." Suho's smile somehow manages to take a turn for the better as he sets a hand on the small of Jongdae's back, directing him through the crowd. "And I'm glad to hear it. Jo-" Suho clears his throat, and his eyebrows furrow for the tiniest millisecond when Jongdae glances over. "-Kai was worried that you wouldn't enjoy yourself." He chuckles, delicate and professional in a mildly appealing sort of way. "I never have doubts about that sort of issue, of course. I have a lot of faith in the TRX."
"Of course, of course," Jongdae echoes obediently, only hesitating for a half-second when they enter one of those hidden employee-only hallways. "Your trust is very well-placed, honestly. I..." He trails off as they cross a threshold into a brightly lit, bustling dressing room, and Jongdae immediately spots Lay amidst the chaos. "Oh, wow."
Suho subtly follows his gaze and brightens, calling Lay over. It literally feels like slow motion as Jongdae watches his head turn, watches the dancer cycle through the gamut of facial expressions: neutrality, curiosity, confusion, and then... the tell-tale flicker of recognition. And then confusion again. In Jongdae's mind, it's the good kind. It's more, What's Jongdae doing back here? Am I really blessed with the opportunity to see him again and apologize for leaving him high and dry?; less What's this creep doing back here? I mean, he is attractive, but I was just doing my job. Doesn't he know that following people around is a turn-off?. Jongdae makes sure to look as friendly, forgiving, and non-creepy as possible as he reacquaints himself with the delicious reality of that body. Damn.
"Yes?" Lay's standing in front of them now, looking back and forth between Suho and Jongdae with that same little curious squint, and oh. In the light, without the heady sexual contexts of a strip club, his face is really... soft. While he was dancing, Jongdae had only really noticed his jawline, his collarbones, his muscle. His hips. The dark shadows of his brow. Up close, though, his cheeks are soft, his eyes are soft, his lips are soft, and he has perfect dimples to boot. The unexpected contrast between Lay's body and face draws Jongdae's brows into his own confused expression.
Suho seems completely oblivious to the confusion, but Jongdae's a tiny bit suspicious of that breezy smile as the two are (re-)introduced. "Lay, this is Chen. Chen, Lay."
Chen, right. Jongdae had almost forgotten about the whole new name thing. He remembers choosing it-something short, simple, easy to remember, Jongin had told him-on a whim, without much thought. Now, he looks over at Lay and finds his own curiosity mirrored. Lay must be a fake name, too. Jongdae'll have to ask about that. For now, he smiles warmly, forcing down a flush. "Pleasure to meet you, Lay. You know, you look really familiar for some reason."
"As do you, for some reason." The corners of Lay's lips tilt up as he nods. An oddly serene smile, Jongdae thinks as he compares it to Lay's sultry smirk in his head. "It's nice to meet you. New recruit?"
Jongdae grins. "Your new co-worker. Surprise!" Small world.
Suho looks amused as he watches the exchange, and then he turns to Jongdae. "Not quite yet, Chen. As Lay knows, no one here works until completion of a few days of training sessions with a TRX veteran. Your first performance night will be one week from now. Until then..." He talks to Lay, now. "...Lay, you will be in charge of showing him the ropes, getting him accustomed to basic rules and procedures, and teaching him the standard rookie routine. Okay?"
A match made in heaven. They both nod. "If both of you are available, you may commence training immediately," Suho finishes, and when Jongdae blinks, he's already disappeared in that strange way of his.
"Chen, hmm? Are you available for the rest of the night?" Lay's lips are quirked up again with amusement, and he regards him carefully. Definitely a positive, Jongdae thinks, that Lay doesn't appear to think he's a stalker.
"Yup. Definitely. Allll night~" He grins and winks, because, him and Lay training alone all night? Getting some action with the hot stripper will be way easier than he expected.
--
Except it's not easy, not easy at all.
It starts with the names. Yixing flicks on the lights of the little dance studio on the third floor of TRX's building and starts the music with a light, "I don't know how well you can dance, but just try to follow along for now, okay Chen?"
And Jongdae nods, steps around the intimidating floor-to-ceiling poles installed around the room, because he's absolute shit at dancing but Lay's just doing a simple two-step. He can handle that, at least. He can handle that and have breath left to talk, so he does. "I'm terrible at dancing, and by the way, you don't have to call me that. You can call me Jongdae. Chen's just-you know, the stage name, or whatever. ~Stripper~ name."
Lay nods and starts swinging his arms in time to the beat. "Jongdae, then." A little flat, and his lower lip's caught between his teeth.
Jongdae, being Jongdae, is watching Lay closely and notices. The little slip of emotion could just be concentration, but it could also be... doubt? Jongdae's brow furrows, and he manages to add in the arms. "By the way, earlier tonight... That wasn't... I didn't plan that, or anything." He watches Lay in the mirror, almost tripping to catch up when the beat picks up. "Just so you know. I wasn't trying to- Set you up or anything. If that's what you thought. Yeah." Well, he was kind of trying to do something, but.. God, since when has he been so awkward?
Lay relaxes visibly in the mirror, though, as he eases Jongdae into a little bit more complex step sequence. "Really? Seemed like it." And Jongdae watches some of the tension drop from Lay's shoulders, and it's amazing how much he wants to kiss him right now. But he can't, because they're dancing. Actually training, instead of what his overactive imagination suggests that they should be doing in a room full of mirrored walls.
"Really really." He shuffles a little closer, struggling now, to keep up with Lay's extra steps. After a few more futile measures, he figures he might as well just lay out all his cards now. "So yeah. I'm Jongdae. I suck at dancing, but I can hip thrust and body roll pretty well. And I was on the swim team for one season in high school. So I'm pretty used to embarrassing myself while half naked." He sighs, gives up on the dance, and pauses to wipe his already-forming sweat. "That's all there is to it, right?"
Lay smiles again, that close-lipped smirk thing, and shoves at Jongdae's shoulder. "Something like that. But you're not going to get anywhere if you can't do basic steps. So follow."
Jongdae sighs, more heavily this time. Melodrama at its finest. (All his cards.) "Okay, honestly? I kind of would be totally up for it if you wanted to quote-unquote 'do something'. Especially if it involved, you know. Lips. Our lips. Kissing and shit. Messing around, etcetera. That would be great. But just to be clear, I'll still work and train for you if not. I'm not that shallow."
It takes a several long, agonizing, silent moments for that to sink in, but Lay finally nods, tentative. Hesitant, unsure. "We should.." He shakes off whatever was on his mind, and readjusts his tank top. "Use kisses as motivation, though. Reward kisses only." Lay takes a step toward Jongdae and hesitates before pulling him into a brief peck. "No free kisses."
Jongdae pulls back, momentarily sated. Looks like anything more is completely out of the question, but... He can definitely settle for just kisses, for now.
They prove to be great incentive as the night wears on, and as they get more comfortable with being close, the rewards keep getting better. It's far past midnight when Lay finally calls it quits, but it sort of flew by for Jongdae.
"You never told me your actual name, by the way," he whines, breathless as he goes to grab his phone and wallet from the shelf by the door. "No fair. You learned mine ages ago!" Hours, really. Earlier tonight, really. It feels like much longer, though. It feels like he's learned so much since then.
"Oh, that..." Lay hesitates, glances down. "That, you'll have to work for, too. You'll have to earn it."
--
It takes Jongdae all of the next practice and most of their third to do so. He tries, though. That's his motivation, really, hour after hour of physically painful exercise. Waking up every morning with essentially useless, sore limbs, that's his motivation. And honestly, he thinks he knows why he cares so much. Something to do with the increasingly frequent kisses, and some sneaky feelings attached to them, that have begun to creep up uninvited.
"Jongdae," Lay pants at the end of their third session, pressed up against the cool studio mirror. They're both dripping with perspiration and Jongdae's pretty sure his arms are going to fall off, but mostly he's proud of himself. He just ran through his complete routine for the first time. Even did his little pole trick without missing a beat, and then he'd come straight in for a kiss to collect his reward. His teacher indulges him, then gifts him one more: "I'm- You can- Yixing. My name is Yixing."
Jongdae almost pulls back, eyes widening. He's never had any reason to keep his identity secret-people who know him by his reputation would not be surprised in the slightest to find out that he's a stripper-but it's different for Lay-for Yixing. Jongdae doesn't know specifics, knows, somehow, that this is important. He thinks he'd like to learn the specifics, too. Learn more about this interesting, surprisingly innocent, cute sweetie of a stripper. And, not to be overdramatic, but he's pretty sure his heart skips a beat when he goes in for another kiss. That's gotta mean something, but he pushes it to the back of his mind for now. "Yixing," he repeats. "Yixing, Yixing, Yixing." Thank you for trusting me.
--
At the end of their next and last session, when they're finished and sweaty and Jongdae has happily said Yixing's name at the end of every single sentence for the past four hours, Yixing smiles. Jongdae is pulled in for a deep, heady smooch, and a whisper: "You're ready."
--
Jongdae decides to keep the glitter light, dusting a thin layer across his collarbones and nowhere else. He wants to wow the crowd on his big debut night, not blind them. His eyes are lined to make him feline, make him fierce, and Yixing made sure to muss up his hair extra well in the stairwell.
He gets dressed, jacks himself hard for maximum effect. Then he slides on his main attraction-silver hot pants, to match Yixing's gold, with SEXY across the butt. They're awkward, but he kind of really loves them, loves the picture of Yixing picking them out for him, and-like Yixing said-he's ready. He's so ready to get up on stage, with the lights and the buzz and the intoxicating music, and the crowd. All that's running through his mind as he hovers behind the stage door is what kind of reward he can weasel out of Yixing after this. Eyes on the prize. And then there's the familiar four-count of his routine's song, and he steps out on stage with the comfort of Yixing's eyes watching him.
--
He's practically bouncing with energy as he makes his way off stage.
Backstage, Jongin appears to be in deep conversation with Suho, Xiumin's flicking idly through his cell phone as he waits for his next cycle, and Taozi's busy fixing his eyeliner in his vanity. Everyone else is buzzing around as usual, oblivious to how solidly Jongdae just killed his routine. Yixing's really the only one who takes notice when Jongdae floats in, since he was watching the whole time. It's not like Jongdae was expecting a big welcome committee, but honestly, it's a little disappointing. But Jongdae takes it all in stride. A few party poopers can't kill his vibe or his performance high. There have been worse disappointments in life, and tonight, he cares the most about what Yixing thinks, anyway.
And how can he be upset when Yixing's mouth has stretched into a grin far wider than his default smile, with teeth and everything? How can he be upset when Yixing answers his raised, expectant eyebrows with a tight hug and a whispered "Perfect, Jongdae," into his ear? He can't be. Nope. Not possible.
But he milks it anyway, plays it up a little. Bites his lip, drops his gaze and glances hesitantly around the oblivious room. "You really think so?"
Yixing rolls his eyes and takes Jongdae by the wrist, pulling him out of the dressing room. "Know so. Don't push it, babe." Babe. Jongdae melts, just a teensy tiny little bit, at the pet name. They've only known each other for a week, and they haven't gone past grinding and making out, but it's... It's nice, he thinks. Yixing's nice, and it's a nice change of pace for Jongdae to take things slow for once, testing the waters for something beyond mindless sex. Being called 'babe', even sarcastically, seems like a great new development. Especially coming from someone who turned out to be so unbelievably sweet.
Yixing knows he's struck a good note with that, and though his smile goes back to being subdued, the happiness in the rest of his face doesn't fade. It's the same half-smile as always, almost hesitant now, but Jongdae's always been good at reading people, picking them apart, and Yixing's eyes are soft with fondness as he drags Jongdae through a familiar set of curtains. It's here that he takes a little control back; it's this part of their progression that Jongdae leads.
"Hmm...," Jongdae starts sweetly, tracing a finger down Yixing's jaw in the darkness. "We both know the rules, right?" His voice drops, then, a subtle shift in tone. "But it's okay to break them sometimes." Right about now seems like a great time to do some rule-breaking, actually. He wraps his arms around Yixing's neck, presses a kiss to his lips. Light, chaste. "So right now, we're going to celebrate. You're allowed to look and you're allowed to touch." Another kiss, right under the jawline, and Yixing looks so good, so open and willing as his eyelids flutter shut. "You can want." He takes Yixing's hand, presses it to his own erection, groans in encouragement when Yixing slips it under the fabric and squeezes experimentally.
"You can trust..." Jongdae still has a lot to learn about Yixing's craft, but maybe he can teach Yixing a trick or two along the way. Yixing sighs weakly when Jongdae starts to mouth at his neck, his oh-so-sensitive neck, and this is almost too easy, too simple. Jongdae's there to catch him when his knees start to buckle. He seats Yixing in the same chair from a week ago, straddling him as he's hit with some weird, erotic sense of déjà vu.
This isn't love, it's not even close, but it's more than plain attraction, and definitely more than lust. Maybe, maybe one day. "...And." Jongdae leans in close, whispers the last bit into Yixing's parted lips. "And, you're allowed to feel."