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This was the first night back from everything; back from Ian’s latest depressive state. He almost lost his job at this club, and since he only had good or drugged out memories of this place, he’d practically begged his boss to let him stay ( his boss seemingly hadn’t even put much thought into it, like firing him was an empty threat, basically- but that was neither here nor there for Ian). And now he was back, in his uniform and ready to dance like he’d done so many nights before, but it all felt different. He wanted to blame his medication that he was on to keep himself stable, but if they were doing their job, then this was all wrong.
Sure, he could spot a few young ones in here- minus the dancers, obviously- but it was mainly older guys, and he remembered Monica’s comment. Before, he was the one keeping the old guys coming- now it was his sole job, it seemed. But it all felt different now. A paycheck was a paycheck, and the tips were amazing, but now that he was able to sense everything and completely aware, he was starting to wonder what were the cost.
But he didn’t have much time to think about that as he got up on his own personal stage. He shrugged internally, knowing he was gonna have to fake it.
Mickey almost hated himself whenever he walked into this club; because he wasn’t into these old fat faggots, but for some reason he just felt more at ease coming here. When he’d gotten into with his dad a week ago, Mandy had trudged him here, saying this is where he’d be able to get all his dick-lovin’ needs. And yeah, he’d pick up someone once in a while, but he just came more to look, to not feel wound up, and getting free drinks were total perks.
But he didn’t really have a reason to come tonight- well, besides wanting to be free in some type of way. But his dad was back jail- got into a bar fight and broke his probation. And maybe he came out here tonight to celebrate a few more months (maybe even a few years, if he was lucky)of being free of the bigoted asshat he once called his dad. He came here for no particular reason and he hated himself for that.
He was settling into his favorite spot against the rail of the small balcony. It was a constant sign that he may be leaving at any time and to not bother.
Once he finally got settled, drink in hand, he noticed the guy getting up on the stage closest to him; a red head with a rib tattoo and he was actually intrigued. He never paid much attention to the dancers; just a few glances because yeah they were hot, and even Mickey could admit that. But damn this guy was a fucking god and Mickey couldn’t turn his head away. He let his eyes wonder over his pale skin and how the colorful lights accentuated every muscle tightly covered away with the porcelain skin, how the gold sparkly shorts did well to show off the shape of his ass or junk. His eyes continued the trail, finding something sexy about his legs; Mickey never noticed or even bothered with legs, Firecrotch’s were strong and shaped, like he could hold Mickey up for hours and Mickey never thought of getting fucked up against a wall would ever cross his mind. He wasn’t sure whether to blame it on the club or this one sole dancer- no, he was gonna blame it on Red over there.
He watched the dancer’s moves become sultrier as he finished his thorough inspection and ran up to see the face of that work of it clad in tiny fabric. He found the green eyes surrounded by black guyliner and he swore he felt his heart stop. The guy was looking right at him.
Everything felt wrong and out of place until he found one person that he could focus on, one person that he actually felt dancing for.
It was this guy leaning against a railing. He had black hair that was slicked back, and it wasn’t until the roaming light hit his eyes that he saw how blue they were. Not to say it was a turn on, but the way those icy blue eyes roamed over his skin, making a scorching expedition, practically eye fucking Ian from where he stood, yeah it was a bit of an incentive.
He could feel the moves come almost naturally as he used his body to lure this guy in; a siren in his own way. And once their eyes met, he almost smirked at the way the guy licked his lips, coming aware of his actions and almost embarrassed at getting caught. But the dark haired mystery lifted his drink to his lips, and it was almost if Ian had seen the change, like he was accepting it. And they just kept at it, the guy conversing with his eyes while Ian communicated with his body. And it was almost funny how their silent conversation kept getting interrupted (Ian wasn’t going to lie, it was a bit of a confidence boost how many guys actually liked what he was doing). And he could see the twitch in the guy’s eyes whenever someone would come in between. It was becoming almost unbearable. He really wanted this guy to come up to him, but somehow he knew he’d have to make the first move. Ian was ok with that.
After the song ended- not like Mickey was really paying attention to it- the red head made his way down the stage and over. He tried to ignore his heart race speeding up and how dry his mouth was getting. Damn his drink was gone.
The red head kept to his side, leaning against the rail. No, Mickey didn’t watch the guy’s bicep’s bulge when he held his weight against the railing. “Get a good enough image?” Firecrotch asked, his voice smooth. “You were starin’ pretty hard back there.”
Mickey wanted to come up with a snappy comeback as a reflex, but he laughed instead, feeling his blood running hot under his skin. He wasn’t sure how to respond since he was only used to backing guys away or getting right to the point. Since he didn’t want to do either with this guy, he was stuck.
He must have sensed Mickey’s unease. “I’m Ian,” the red head introduced.
“Mickey,” Mickey said back. He caught the Firecrotch’s- Ian’s- expression quickly and added, “If you say anything about a fucking mouse then we can just end it here.” He felt himself holding back a smile because even he couldn’t believe his own words. “You must be new,” Mickey observed.
Ian shook his head. “Nah. I took some time off. Personal shit. But you must be new. I think even I would remember seeing you when I actually was working.”
Mickey nodded. “My sister brought me here a week ago. Turns out it’s actually really-“
“Freeing?” Ian finished. He could sense the answer this Mickey was giving was heading towards the same experience he had with his own mother. Mickey nodded and he mirrored the gesture. “Yeah, my mom did the same thing for me when I was younger. This wasn’t the one she brought me to, though. One closer to the southside where I live.”
Mickey’s eyebrows rose. “No shit; southside? Me too.”
Ian gave Mickey a quick look over, not sparing any of the appreciation for what he saw. He noticed the knuckle tattoos spelling “FUCK-U-UP” and he smirked. “Oh, yeah. Definitely southside,” Ian confirmed.
Mickey grazed his bottom lip with his teeth and the sight went straight to Ian’s dick. He was sure that was the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. “I get off at two,” Ian blurted out, feeling his heart stutter against his chest.
Mickey didn’t hide his smile this time and his tongue sliding over his lips and Ian changed his mind- that tongue was the sexiest thing ever. He wanted to taste that tongue and holy fuck it was only 11 pm. “What makes you think I’d wait that long?” Mickey pondered; he couldn’t help his only flirty smirk.
Ian leaned in close, and Mickey thought he was going in for a kiss. He had a thing against kissing, but as Ian’s lips moved closer, he was almost disappointed when they slid to his ear. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to control himself. “I’ll make it worth it,” Ian whispered, his voice husky and low yet louder than the boom of the lively club.
Ian slid away just in time to watch Mickey’s tongue move through his parted lips. Fuck, couldn’t they just leave now? Mickey nodded and Ian smiled proudly and excited.
Mickey watched Ian saunter back to his stage and take position. They spent the whole time resuming their unspoken conversation.