Chapter Text
Everywhere Dave looked, all he saw was skin. Bronze skin, sweaty skin, pale skin, gold, cinnamon, charcoal, chocolate. He was used to it by this point, enjoyed comparing the different skins, even, but it still came as a shock to his senses whenever he walked into work each evening.
Security watched over dancing and drinking trolls with a critical eye and crossed arms, muscles bulges, some bouncers human, others troll or lusus.
As always, Dave started off working behind the bar with Rose, chatting with John every now and again and watching the dark-haired boy sweep the floors. Jade was up in the DJ booth, apprenticing to none other than Dirk Strider at the request of his childhood friend Jake. Dave envied both of them. He'd turn tables any day over the bullshit the owners made him do on skin staff.
The night creeped in like usual, more and more trolls slithering in, cheering and howling and dancing. John swapped jobs with Roxy, taking her place on stage and shimmying out of his shirt and jacket. Rose went next, trading off with Jane after another hour or two, peeling off her clothes to reveal riskè lingerie beneath.
When Jake finally retreated from the stage and started walking towards Dave, he knew it was his turn.
Jake thumped him on the back as the younger Strider threw his shirt and jacket at English, who laughed as Dave walked away, naked from the waist up.
The thing was, Dave was rarely allowed on the stage these days. He was a good dancer, a pro at getting this rowdy crowd to demand his pants and body, expert at making the customers roar. However, it was against the rules to play Dave.
So instead of stepping onto the stage with Rose and John, he trotted back behind it, where thick curtains hid him and the space beyond the stage from view.
Dave shuffled over to a small area enclosed in a circle of beads and indigo silk, plush cushions in place and handcuffs hanging from a rod positioned a few inches over Dave's head when he was standing.
Gamzee Makara, of course, was already there, lounging on the cushions, watching Dave with hooded eyes. "Well if it ain't Dave motherfucking Strider."
"'Sup, chuckleboo?"
Gamzee sat up slowly, grin widening and vicious. He couldn't suppress the urge to shudder at the sight of Makara's mouthful of razors, flashing back to all the times when those same fangs made him bleed.
Dave always liked it when Gamzee bit him.
"You're going to pay for that, you blasphemous sinner."
The next thing Dave knew, he was in the Capricorn's lap, one clawed hand tangled in Dave's beautiful locks and the other working at the button of his pants.
"Woah there, Makara. I know I'm irresistible, but you gotta let me catch up here."
"Like you need it," Gamzee snorted, pulling him into a rough kiss that ended with them pulling away with red staining their chins.
"Easy there, Juggalo."
"Shut your fucking protein chute, Strider."
Dave didn't return to work again for the rest of the night. As it was, it was just a regular Monday for the Striders and the club.