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“Yeah, okay.”
Sua raises an eyebrow in Till’s direction, “Seriously? Why was it easier to convince you to wear this over the maid outfit?”
Till rolls his eyes, “The maid outfit was needlessly provocative.”
“And this—isn’t?” Sua’s deadpan expression somehow manages to flatline further.
He currently stands in front of the staff’s bathroom mirror, staring at himself donning a vest and tie, paired with slacks and— no dress shirt. He was essentially, shirtless.
“I mean—” Till sighs, “Luka let me wear my piercings today,”
“God, you’re so fucking easy.”
“You’re right Sua, he’s so fucking sexy,” Ivan sighs dreamily, leaning over the bathroom sink, tracing hearts onto the marble rim.
"And you’re painfully shameless, pathetic even,” Sua says, almost immediately. Ivan doesn’t bother with a response, his eyes fixed on Till’s chest with a certain manic intensity that Till thinks equally terrifies and turns him on.
“Anyway,” Till tries not to make eye contact with Ivan, gaze skirting away from his, “Where’s your fan service gimmick?”
Ivan blinks, as if snapping out of a daze, “Hm?”
“Dude—”
“Don’t dude me, I’ve been inside you. Several times. Yesterday, in fact. Twice.” Ivan interrupts, a smirk beginning to rise.
“That’s my cue to leave,” Sua says, slamming the bathroom door loudly behind her.
Till ignores the rising heat, “Shut up. Where’s the thing Luka’s forcing you to wear?”
“The bunny ears? Why, I’m wearing them right now, Till.”
Till narrows his eyes, “I don’t buy it.”
“Buy what? That I’m wearing the ears? You’ve felt them up several times prior, what’s not there to get?” Ivan’s smile widens as Till flushes.
“That’s not— fuck off. Whatever. Be mysterious for no good reason, see if I give a fuck.” Till follows Sua’s motions, slamming the door shut at his bastard of a partner.
Till stands outside the café, the frigid breeze tucking into sleeveless holes, under his chest, up his bare neck. Goosebumps galore. He grips his wooden signpost as an attempt to somehow ground himself— thermal transfer or whatever. Not that wood was much of an insulator.
Almost instantaneously, he seemed to garner attention the minute he began to hoist the signpost. Women and men alike, their pace slow as they walk past him, hushed murmurs and widened eyes.
A teenage boy’s glasses begin to slip as his eyes graze over Till’s bare bicep, “U-Uh, is this one of those undercover strip club promotion things?”
Till fixes him with the driest look he could muster, “The board literally says ‘SWEET DREAM CAFÉ’.”
“T-That could mean anything,” The boy reasons, picking at his fallen spectacles.
“Yes. It means that there’s a café inside this building— if the menu board and amber lighting weren’t enough to convince you otherwise,” He pauses, before looking at the boy, frowning, “Aren’t you too young to be asking me about strip clubs?”
“Aren’t you too young to be selling your body out?” The boy rolls his eyes despite his cowardly stature, “How innocent do you think high schoolers are?”
“It’s not about innocence, it’s about having some shame,” Till argues. Almost immediately, he feels himself flush, “Don’t bring up—”
“Like you’re one to talk about having some shame,” The boy responds, his braces muffling his diction.
“A-Are you gonna buy anything or not?” Till snaps, his threat losing its hold as he stammers through the chilly air.
“What do you have?” The boy asks.
“Read the fucking menu dude, I don’t know!” Till raises his hand in annoyance, dropping it once his exposed armpit gets a taste of the cold.
“Wow, some promotion,” The boy mutters, before heading into the store.
Well, you walked in so— it worked, Till thinks bitterly.
A few more people head into the store, giving Till double looks as they shyly make their way in, as if he were some creepy mascot. Seriously, he couldn’t tell if they were into it or scared of it.
“Gosh, Till, your skin’s about to turn blue,” A deceptively gentle voice he was all too familiar with pipes up, as he feels the press of heat against his cheek. It wasn’t as soft as Ivan’s lips, so Till sighs with relief.
“Thanks,” He says, as Ivan continues pressing the heat pack into his exposed regions of skin. Ivan only hums in response, his gaze fixed on Till’s underarm.
Till rolls his eyes, “Jesus, you’re not subtle at all. Do whatever you want to me when we get home, but have some goddamn propriety in public,”
“You’re the one who makes a habit out of kissing the living daylights out of me at our workplace, Till,” Ivan reminds, his voice hushed.
“You provoke me,” Till rebuts, wagging a finger at Ivan.
Ivan takes the offending finger into his mouth, held between his snaggletooth and an incisor. Till yelps, ripping it out of his hold, “Pro-fucking-priety!” He hisses.
Ivan ignores him with a laugh, “Come inside and wait on a table or two, the café’s already full, what with those pictures Sua’s posted of you getting ready in the bathroom and all going viral on our social media pages.”
“The pictures of what—” Ivan simply shoves Till inside the building, warm air enveloping him instantly, cutting off his interrogation. Luka sits atop a bar stool close to the counter, raking over a clipboard no doubt filled with more balance sheets Till couldn’t begin to decipher. His bunny ears flop over his bangs pathetically as he looks up at Till and Ivan.
“You did well,” He says, his gaze flitting over Till, up and down. Till scrunches his shoulders, feeling naked under his scrutiny. Luka’s gaze slides over to Ivan, who was nodding sagely in agreement, also looking Till up and down. Except, unlike Luka, he was probably actually undressing Till in his head. Somehow, Till found this less terrifying.
“Yeah, well,” Till pointedly glares at Ivan, “People seem to think we’re running a strip show in here instead of a fine establishment. So your marketing isn’t exactly sound.”
Luka raises an eyebrow, “A strip show?”
“Can’t see how they'd reach that conclusion,” Ivan says, his mouth dangerously close to the shell of Till’s ears.
“Oi, PDA,” Till reminds Ivan, slapping the back of his head. Ivan doesn’t even wince. Luka stares.
“I’ve never been against PDA if it drove up sales,” He says, clinical, “Nothing too wet though, might be grounds for a health code violation.”
Till gapes, Luka continues his train of thought, “Anyway, you said something about stripping? People want that?” He stands up abruptly, before unbuttoning his slacks, revealing a pair of short-shorts. The café’s patrons hush, the sound of phone camera buttons being the only audible sound for the next minute or so.
“Dude. What the fuck are you doing?” Till manages, hoarse, as Ivan’s eyes widen by a mere fraction.
“Relax, they’re shorts,” Luka says. Ivan shakes his head, “I’m sorry, you wear shorts under your slacks?”
“You never know,” Was all Luka decided to respond with, Ivan whispering a, “Never know what,” Into Till’s ear, Till only shrugging in response. Fuck knows what goes on in that man’s head.
"Anyway,” Luka looks at Ivan, burning holes into his dress shirt, “How do you feel about corsets?”
“C-corsets?” Till’s voice cracks, trying not to visualise it. Trying so, so desperately not to visualise it.
“A Corset, huh?” Ivan muses, pretending to think for longer than a second as he taps at his chin, “Sure, why not?”
“That has nothing to do with stripping,” Till objects. He had to stop this train from moving. Under all costs.
“Oh, Till, you are so naive,” Luka chuckles, before pointing a thumb at Ivan, “You. Get in the staff room.”
Ivan salutes, making his way towards the room, not before the saluting finger slides its way down the edges of Till’s jaw, “See you soon,” He says, before slipping away, Till ignoring their resident fujoshis gasping a few tables down.
“Till, take over the register, we’ll be back in like— thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes?! The fuck are you doing for thirty minutes?” Till asks, bewildered.
“We need to spruce him up a bit,” Luka explains, “Make him more… alluring,”
“Alluring? What, are you leaving him in a corset and nothing else to show off his perfectly sculpted pecs or whatever the fuck?”
“You think my pecs are perfect?” Ivan asks, eyes sparkling with mirth, like Till hasn’t ravaged them raw dozens of times.
“I’m not dignifying that with a response.” Till huffs, before glaring at Luka, “What the hell are you going to do with him?”
“Don’t get your panties twisted, we’re not going to fuck in the bathroom—”
“Ew,” Till says, at the usage of the word panties.
“Ew,” Ivan also says, at the idea of fucking Luka.
Luka rolls his eyes, “Whatever. Don’t worry, he’ll stay clothed. That’s the point, actually.”
“What?”
“You wouldn’t get it, now go do your job. I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“A dark chocolate frappe, strawberry gateaux, dirty matcha float— alright, this is all understandable, what happened to Ivan?” Issac asks, casting a bored glance at Till.
“Why would you just assume—”
“Do you really wanna play this game again, Till?” Issac asks, dry, as he folds an omelette over, before beginning to plate omurice on a dish, “Your writing’s only legible when you’re being weird over your boyfriend.”
“Not my boyfriend.” Till mutters, haughtily.
“Right, your fiancé. Didn’t realise you’d be the one getting all particular about that one,” Issac snorts.
“Of course I’d get particular! He proposed to me in the middle of the woods when we thought we were being chased down by wolves, when he actually just played a recording of them behind some fuckass pine tree because ‘adrenaline prompts fight or flight instincts, so he’d know if I instinctively wanted to get married’ or whatever,”
Issac stares at him, “And how is this relevant?”
“I’m getting to it Issac! The point is, I just made a commitment with a clearly insane person— and I sure as hell need something to show for it,” He flashes the silver band around his ring finger, pointing to it aggressively.
“Right. That makes sense,” Issac says, “You still didn’t tell me what the problem is now, though. But I totally appreciate the exposition,”
“A strip tease jar.”
“A… strip tease jar?”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like,” Till sighs, “He’s clothed, erotically. And if you like, put twenty thousand won in a jar, he gets rid of one item of clothing— maxing it out gives you a ‘special prize’,” Till shudders.
“twenty thousand won?! Who the hell is paying that much?”
“He’s roaming around the place in socks now,” Till says, mournfully, “It’s been five minutes.”
“Oh.” Issac blinks, “Uh, on the bright side, there’s thirty minutes until closing. Surely they wouldn’t amass that much—”
Aghast shrieks make their way through the kitchen. Till’s head snaps towards the noise, “I gotta go. I love you, Dad.”
“Dad—?” Issac’s brows furrow, but Till’s already made his grand departure.
Till zooms towards the offending noise, before zeroing in on his damn debonair of a partner.
Ivan stood in front of a table surrounded by women, slowly pulling a skintight glove on with his teeth.
Maybe Till should just die.
He steps forward, “What are you—”
Luka’s sickly hand stops him, encircling over his wrist tightly, “He’s doing his job, Till.”
“He’s stripping,” Till hisses.
“Consensually,” Luka shrugs.
“Con— he’s doing this on purpose!” Till groans, slapping a hand over his face, “Luka, he’s doing this to get a rise out of me so I make out with him in the middle of the store again or some bullshit. Do you seriously want that again? We closed early last time because of it.”
“You did,” Luka hums, thoughtfully, “Counterpoint, I made you pay twice the deposit for the dresses to make up for the loss.”
“You what.”
“The point is, I don’t care if you do anything, just financially compensate me for my loss in income.”
Till stares ahead, at Ivan’s tight fucking corset, cinching his already tiny waist even further. He’s not the only one, nearly every customer in the store seems to look that direction, their eyes on the black bow tying it together. The pièce de la résistance.
“The corsets the final blow, isn’t it,” Till mutters, dreadfully.
Luka smirks, “Dunno, that’s up to pretty boy. He looks like he’s teasing it, though, if his tugging on the string every now and then is any indication,”
“That’s…” Till frowns, just as Ivan decides to make direct eye contact with him at that moment, smiling like the bastard he was, “Where were you, Till?”
“Fuck you,” Was all Till bothered replying with.
Ivan’s eyes light up with interest, darting towards the customer who just slipped a note into the ratty metal box. The crowd whistles as he begins to loosen his tie, a buttered croissant thrown in his direction as if they were makeshift roses.
“I’m flattered at all of your attention,” Ivan chuckles, before deciding to make eye contact with Till again, crimson pupils flared with a certain intensity he didn’t think he liked the look of, “But please, I’d implore you to take a look at my… dapper coworker here,” He grips Till’s bare bicep, “We should take a moment to appreciate him in all of his glory,”
Heat flares through Till’s cheeks, feeling dozens of eyes on him in an instant, “Glory,” He repeats, hollow.
“Ancient Greeks used to spar in stadiums, naked, you know,” Ivan says, “What say you and I recreate a battle for the spectating crowd?”
Hushed whispers surround them. Till reels, “Where is your goddamn shame today?”
“It left when your shirt did.” Ivan states bluntly. That was another thing— how fucking candid Ivan got whenever he was horny. Till didn’t think he was capable of ever getting used to it.
Till remains speechless as Ivan barrels on, “Or, you could say no. That’s fine. I’m sure we’ll get to a point where there’s enough money in the jar, maybe I’ll ask that lucky individual—”
“How many articles of clothing does he have left,” Till snaps in Luka’s direction. Luka hums, “Forty-seven.”
“I don’t have—”
“Ivan, what’s twenty thousand multiplied by forty-seven?” Till asks, impatient.
Ivan blinks, slow, his brain beginning to calculate, as Luka interrupts, “A million,”
Ivan’s brows furrow, “That’s not—”
Till pulls out a wad of cash, handing it to Luka before Ivan quickly slaps it away, his ears pink despite his growing grin, “Love of my life, you are not paying Luka a million won.”
“Could I slip another twenty?” A customer asks, shy, as Till rounds on them, nostrils flared, “This bastard’s mine— get your own freak!”
“Aw, babe,” Ivan coos, as Luka grimaces, “Babe?”
At the sound of his voice, Ivan’s gaze slides towards Luka, glinting as a threat, “He’s not paying you that much. Try again,”
Luka narrows his eyes, Ivan and he continue their unofficial blinking contest, both unrelenting.
Till rolls his eyes, “Jesus, you’re both inhuman. Luka, I’ll pay you half a million, take it or leave it.”
Ivan blinks immediately in response as Luka smiles, languid, in victory.
“Till, that’s still too much,” Ivan stresses, as Luka snorts.
“I beg to differ, you two leaving is putting me out of bussing tables until Sua and Mizi show up for the night shift. You’re paying me that five hundred thousand, or you’re letting your mutt over here strip for the masses.”
“Hey, he’s my fiancé, only I get to call him a dog.” Ivan’s expression softens, as if Till had just publicly declared his love for him rather than publicly degrade him. Till shoves the wad of cash into the box, making sure to obnoxiously smash the notes against its slit while he was at it.
He grabs Ivan by the waist, his fingers brushing over the black ribbon purposefully, “We’re taking the pantry, toodle-oo motherfuckers,” He says, with finality.
Ivan beams, “Toodle-oo, dear patrons!” He echoes, allowing Till to drag him to the back.
Till shoves him into the room, proceeding to lean on the closed door, Ivan raising a perfectly sharp brow, “Well?”
“Well, what?” Till asks, hunching his shoulders defensively, “I didn’t do this to fucking fuck you. I did this to stake my claim, there’s a difference, moron.”
Ivan tilts his head, “Is there?” He strides towards Till, effectively pinning him against the door, “Fine, you don’t need to do anything,” He snakes a palm under Till’s shoulder, directly poking into his armpit, “Let the dog mark its territory.”
“Y-your territory?” Till stammers. Ivan lifts his arm, positioning his mouth right over his exposed skin, snaggletooth digging into sensitive skin. Ivan only hums in response, sucking a bruise right into the spot as Till represses a groan.
Ivan licks a stripe over the spot, Till stiffening, “You’re supposed to be a damn rabbit,”
“Rabbits display affection through licking.” Saliva coats the divot of his pit, Till letting out an absolutely lewd noise in response, “They’re also in heat. Constantly.” He palms Till’s growing erection, “Cute. You’re so cute,”
“You’re insatiable,” Till snaps, as Ivan chuckles, dark, “When it’s you? That’s a given,”
Dear god, Till gulps. He might’ve dug his grave with this one.
“What the fuck?” Sua hisses as she stares at the scene before her. Ivan’s wrists were bound by black ribbon above his head, his corset lying on the floor astray. His lips were wet, glistening with blood, a wild smile overtaking his features as he caught sight of Sua.
“Noona,” He begins, before Sua raises her palm, shutting him up instantly. Her eyes roam across the snug room before latching onto a very pissed off Till. Her eyes widen at the sight of the utterly ravished man, his underarms and chest littered with bite marks and hickeys, an exposed nipple peeking through his overcoat, dotted perfectly with Ivan’s teeth marks, bud perked and glittering as if it had just been sucked on—
“Can you stop looking at me?” Till whines amidst his rage, “It’s unbecoming,”
“Since when did you use words longer than three syllables?” Sua retorts, dry, as Ivan giggles obnoxiously. She elbows him, resulting in his laughter turning into dry choking, “And you. Did you really have to eat him at our goddamn place of work? Luka says you two have been at it for three fucking hours.”
“Two,” Ivan wheezes through the pain, “He’s kept me tied up since then,”
“You wanted to stick your dick into my armpit,” Till snaps, his voice gravelly.
“You what.” Sua’s voice goes unbearably monotone.
Ivan rolls his eyes, “Dramatic. The both of you. It’s a perfectly healthy way to express my sexuality with my partner—”
“You deserve this.” Sua says, looking back at Till, pity bleeding into her contorted expression, “It’s not too late to back out of the wedding.”
Till sighs, “No, it’s fine. I’ve committed to this horny fuck, in sickness and health or whatever,”
Ivan’s smile turns lovesick, “Till—”
“You’re staying here until their shift ends,” Till states, his glare searing into Ivan, “I’m leaving.”
“Wait, but that’s five hours,” Ivan realises.
Sua huffs, “You’re getting off pretty light if you ask me.”
Till slams the door behind them, raising his ring finger in lieu of his middle finger as he leaves the café, silver band shimmering against the light.
Ivan stares upwards at his own rose gold band, and stares. Sua thinks his face looks as if it were about to melt in joy.
He sighs, practically swooning, “You’re right, he’s so pretty,”
Sua’s expression flat-lines, “Yeah, I don’t have time for this. Have fun thinking about Till in the dark,”
“I always do,”