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Summary
He’s just stepped on stage when Chanyeol sinks into his seat, two fingers of liquor swirling around in his glass. His feet are light against the shiny stage floor, clad in only a pair of frilly socks unlike most of the dancers here. They hug the round calves beautifully, leading up to a pair of equally round thighs that disappear into the bottom of the cherry red lace negligee. It’s short enough to flash a pair of pretty lace panties as the dancer sways his hips, see through enough to show every curve underneath it. The swell of the pert ass, the gentle dip of hips, the cute pudge of a little tummy, the puffy and sensitive nipples tenting the fabric.
He’s the last dancer of the evening. Chanyeol knows. This is their routine. He comes here, orders his drink, and takes his seat near the front of the stage. Not at the very front, never there. Just far back enough for no one to notice his arrival except the dancer.