Work Text:
The mission was simple: Suspected red ice production and trafficking was occurring somewhere on the premises of a popular nightclub. Several past employees had reported seeing signs synonymous with the refinement method, and enough evidence had accumulated to necessitate a full-blown operation. Lieutenant Anderson had headed it, as per regulation given his past involvement on red ice task forces, and thus had delegated the bulk of the undercover work to Gavin Reed, the officer with experience enough to take on such a role.
As Detective Reed’s partner, Nines was expected to also head up the portions of the operation accessible to an android, which was why he was currently standing just inside the club in question, scanning the crowded space in search of his undercover partner.
Club Elysium was the sort of place that didn’t look like it would harbor a red ice lab within its walls. Though poorly lit and questionably clean, the club boasted a large clientele of well-to-do people, both android and human alike. As one of the very few all-human strip clubs left in the city, it functioned as a sort of exotic treat to those looking for something different. In this age of acclimation and change, many were indeed interested in such things.
It showed; despite it being only ten p.m, the club was filled. The main stage sat at the far end of the expansive central room, branching doors lining the walls that led to private rooms where private shows occurred. Nines had done a thorough search of all articles and blueprints related to the building in preparations for tonight; he was to meet Gavin somewhere in the club and discretely slip him a thumb drive containing potential suspects to be on the lookout for. High profile dealers and those suspected of being mules. Anyone who could be disguising a transaction as simply a dance in a private room.
Nines walked deeper into the club, sidling past swaying bodies and those brave enough to seek out strippers they were interested in propositioning. He looked left and right, scanning the faces, the drinks, the traces of chemicals on certain patron’s lips and fingers and noses. It only took a few jostles to his person until Nines figured sitting and watching would be better than shoving his way through the milling crowd. He found himself a chair at a lone table near a wall. The table was sticky. He resolved not to touch it.
Music pounded from speakers mounted in the ceiling. Three and a half songs played before the crowd thinned and gave way to the focus of his current objective.
Detective Reed wasn’t wearing much when Nines managed to spot him through the throng of clubgoers filling the smoky, hot space. A blood red corset provided the cover to his torso, and even then it only came up to his underbust. Beneath the lower hem resided a tight, revealing pair of women’s undergarments. The cut was similar to boyshorts, according to Nines’s helpful analysis readout, but these were ruffled in a manner more redolent of bloomers. They barely covered his rear, ending just above where his ass met his thigh.
Nines could measure the exact amount of coverage they provided easily with Gavin’s back to him as it was. Another reason Gavin had been chosen for this mission was evidenced and accentuated by his outfit. For undercover operations like this, generally android officers were chosen to fill the role of stripper, dancer, sex worker. That was simply the statistical reality of that line of work in this day and age. When it came to Club Elysium, a noted oddity in the world of clubs, finding human officers with the training, qualifications, and physical fitness needed to pull off such a role was significantly harder to come by.
Gavin’s temperament did not make him a prime candidate for this operation, but what he lacked in manners he made up for in physical attractiveness.
Currently Gavin was bent over the arm of a chair, whispering in the ear of some stranger. No, not a stranger. The club owner, Cody Devereaux. Prime suspect and also Gavin’s pseudo-employer. What were they discussing? It was impossible to throw his auditory sensors that far in this sort of environment. Gavin’s posture was loose, comfortable. Nines blinked and quickly looked way. It would be suspicious to stare— Wait. A quick glance around told Nines that he wasn’t the only one staring. Should he continue to stare?
Before he could quite decide, Gavin was lifting his head and looking around, no doubt hunting for his next dance. He smiled at a few patrons who gestured at him, but then his eyes settled on Nines. A few expressions passed over the detective’s face. First surprise, then shock. Then it went to shame, mild anger, before settling back into the passive, pleasant face he’d been using on all the other people hoping to get his attention. He pushed away from the table after shooting Cody one last quiet line, and ignored all the clients holding thick stacks of cash into the air; his eyes were locked on Nines. Just Nines.
“Hey there, baby,” Gavin crooned, swaying his hips as he walked towards him. He wore a leer on his face that Nines wasn’t quite sure how to compute. “You lookin’ for a dance?”
Nines… was certainly not. He cocked his head blankly, processor practically whirling as he attempted to understand what the detective was implying. “I am not sure,” he admitted, whirling louder when Gavin’s leer morphed into an angry sneer. The expression was gone in a flash.
Gavin sauntered closer, drawing his hand down Nines’s shoulder. Nines was fairly certain his LED was flashing an alarming shade of red; the detective never touched him. In fact, he typically made a great show of disliking most forms of physical contact. “Aw, baby’s first night out?” Gavin pressed his thigh along the line of Nines’s arm. He bent himself at the waist to whisper in his ear, “Why don’t I give you some attention. Then, you can give me something back.”
Understanding washed over Nines in a wave. His processors settled down. Of course. A lap dance would be the most inconspicuous way to transfer information to Detective Reed while he was “at work.” He nodded. “Alright.”
A snort. Gavin pulled back, looking at him oddly. “Alright? Can’t say that’s the most enthusiastic agreement I’ve gotten tonight, but whatever floats your boat.” He inhaled deeply and his tone flattened out. “House rules: It’s forty bucks for one song, eighty for two, three-fifty for a private show in the back. Five hundred buys me for the whole night. Touching above the waist and on the thighs is fine, no kissing, and if you leave any marks on me I get security to leave several on you. This ain’t a you break it, you buy it kinda place. Got it?”
It was clear he had memorized this speech. Nines nodded again and reached into his pocket, pulling out the wad of cash the Lieutenant had given him before coming to the club. He’d said Nines might need it, and Nines had answered that the cover charge for the club was considerably less than the three hundred dollars he held in his hand. Now it made sense. A lot more sense.
Gavin’s eyes widened at the sight of the thick wad of cash. He let out a low whistle and took it from Nines, counting it quickly. Once that was done, he tucked the wad into the pouch strapped to his thigh before grinning wide and loose.
“Looks like you get me for the full hour.”
Nines just blinked. Gavin rolled his eyes and unceremoniously crawled straight into his lap.
As soon as Gavin’s back was to the club and his face obscured by Nines’s body, the teasing attitude from before vanished just like that.
“Don’t just sit there,” Gavin hissed, snatching Nines’s hands from his sides to put them on his rolling hips. “Fuckin’ touch me. At least look like you’re getting something outta this before someone notices I’m grinding on a fuckin’ gargoyle.”
Nines swallowed hard. The reaction was involuntary; he didn’t have excess saliva to swallow. He curled his fingers around Gavin’s hips and somehow managed to tense up even more than he had before. Gavin’s bare skin was… softer than anticipated. He was fit, not quite sculpted like most idealized human figures but still firm enough to have mild definition along his chest and, though they weren’t visible currently, his abdominals too. Nines had seen the latter time and time again during their partnership at work. When the room became too warm or after Gavin doused his face with water after too many hours staring at case files, he’d hitch up his shirt and there they would be.
A body built for strength over style. Functional rather than fashionable.
A flickering alert flashed in the corner of Nines’s mind palace display. He shoved it aside quickly. It was illogical to have a reaction to this. To any of this. They were working. This was for the mission and nothing else.
“Or don’t, you know. Just sit there like a dead fucking fish and let me do all the work,” Gavin grumbled. “As always.”
Was there a specific protocol to how one acted when receiving a lap dance? Nines’s processors struggled to handle the combined stimulus of Gavin’s hot, writhing body and the requested search to know what he was supposed to be doing, feeling, thinking at a time like this. He tried to keep his hands in place on Gavin’s hips, to hold them in the spot they’d been placed so as to avoid impropriety, but with the undulations and gyrations it was proving impossible. Gavin’s body defied all attempts to be held in place. His hand began to move. First higher, along Gavin’s lower back, then down, down, down the shapely length of his waist to run along the soft, silken line of his covered thighs.
“I’ve brought the flashdrive—”
Gavin knotted his fingers in the hair at the back of Nines’s head and yanked. It didn’t hurt but the sensory output it generated was enough to shock Nines into silence.
“Careful what you say here,” the man hissed, his lips close to Nines’s ear. From the outside looking in, Nines supposed this must look rather erotic. “They’ve got cameras all over this place, probably wires too. They don’t pull the footage unless they smell something fishy, but let’s not tempt fate, alright?”
Ah. Of course. Nines should have known that. He looked past Gavin’s soft hair and identified every single camera in the vicinity easily. Why hadn’t he done that before? What an oversight on his part. His hands tightened minutely on Gavin’s tapered waist.
“My apologies. I’ve brought the…” Accessing information on strip clubs and club etiquette. Processing. Processing. “The gift for you. Because that’s something you bring your favorites.”
Gavin pulled back a little, still moving his hips, still touching Nines’s shoulders and chest. “Favorite?” He let out a laugh disguised as a scoff. “This is your first time in here.”
Nines nodded, committing to it. “And you’re my favorite. I’ve already decided it.” It was true enough in a sense. He had barely even bothered to look at the other performers once he caught sight of Gavin. Internal, pre-existing biases were there, certainly, but the truth of the matter was the same. “When would you like your gift? It’s in my coat pocket.”
“That depends. How big is it?”
Nines cocked his head a little. “Approximately the size of a typical flash drive.”
Gavin smiled. A rare, real one. “Oh, well. In that case I’ll take it now.” His hand moved before Nines’s could, running down his breast to dip inside the pocket easily. He palmed the small piece of plastic and tucked it inside of his small money pouch.
With the handoff complete and the current mission priority satisfied, Nines tightened his grip on Gavin’s waist and began to lift him off his lap. A hand clamped down on his wrist before he could coax Gavin off. “Woah, what do you think you’re doing?” Gavin hissed, yanking at his wrist until he stopped. “You paid for an hour. You know how bad it looks if you push me off early? Just sit there and wait it out.”
Wait it out. Nines wasn’t sure how to wait it out. The music turned over, a new song beginning to play over the speakers. Something faster, sultrier. Gavin’s dance shifted with it, choreographed perfectly.
Nines was met with the inexplicable urge to cough or swallow. He held back on it. He tried to engage in more conversation.
“How have things been?” he settled on saying, trusting that was light enough of a topic that it wouldn’t arouse any suspicion should they be overheard. Nines looked over Gavin’s shoulder and took in the busy state of the club. Gavin wasn’t permitted to report in regularly given the hours he worked here at the club. Nines couldn’t help but be curious how he was faring when sequestered in a new place, with new people, and under a false name and identity. “Are you… getting along well here?”
Gavin hummed. “You know how it is,” he sighed, cheeks tinged a light pink but otherwise not showing any sign of shame or self-consciousness over what he was doing or wearing. “I’m stuck coming here, that shitty ass apartment, or the gym. I’m bored as shit when I’m not working and I can’t even talk to Tina about the new episodes of our shows when they come out. Typical downsides. I got groped the night before last too, so that was just the cherry on top of the shit sundae.”
Nines stiffened. His brow furrowed. He immediately scanned Gavin’s person, checking for any bruising or internal sign of damage. “Who was it?” he asked in a clipped, harsh tone. “Where was the bouncer? Does this establishment not have security for such things? I can—”
“Slow down there, terminator.” Gavin lifted his hands and dragged them down his own body, tilted his head on his shoulder lazily. “I had the bouncer throw the fucker out. They may be hiding a red, uh, a red carpet beneath the floorboards, but they aren’t complete sleazebags here. The guy got banned and I got a paid evening off.”
Discontent bubbled beneath the surface despite the assurances. The scan came up with nothing to speak of injury-wise. Nines didn’t relax. He rubbed his thumbs against the sharp points of Gavin’s hip bones lurking just beneath the bottom hem of the corset, letting out a cosmetic sigh that felt applicable in a moment like this. “I hadn’t anticipated this job to be so…” Dangerous wasn’t the word. It hadn’t been dangerous yet. One handsy client didn’t make a dangerous case, but still… “To be so hands-on,” he settled on, regretting it instantly when he realized how that might sound when coupled with their current position.
The laugh it pulled from Gavin could be felt from head to toe. It rumbled against Nines’s chest, tickled his fingers, and stirred the hair at the base of his neck. “That’s a word for it,” he huffed. “But yeah. I’m fine. No need to tell the powers-that-be to pull me for going native or whatever. It’s honestly not as bad as I thought it’d be. Turns out I’m crazy good at being a stripper, so…”
That was the least surprising part of this whole thing. Gavin’s personality was well suited to things like this, Nines had gathered. The rest of the precinct knew it too, and it was because of Gavin’s temperament that no one was surprised when he’d been put on this specific op. Entertained, yes. Stunned, maybe for a brief instant. Undercover work required a certain amount of flexibility on top of possessing manners and patience. You had to be able to blend into a new environment, to work hard to meld seamlessly into any situation you found yourself in. Gavin had a tendency to need to be the best at whatever it was in front of him. Be it in the precinct or the strip club, his natural ambition led him to work harder than the rest in hopes of rising above.
He was certainly rising above now. Rising up on his knees to put his chest in Nines’s face to be exact. The smooth lines of his corset ended right beneath his pectoral muscles, lifting them and giving them the illusion of spilling out the top.
Nines nodded his head helplessly, eyes locked on the trail of hair nestled between Gavin’s pectoral muscles. His nipples were erect. Sweat glistened along his skin. If he leaned forward and stuck out his tongue, what would he taste in the sweat? A dusting of glitter also sparkled here and there, patchy application from a hand that probably didn’t want the material on him.
“...and then Marcie, the redhead over there, the one with the huge tits, yeah she and I split this one group and it was— Hey, tin can? You listening to me?”
A lapse in focus. Nines blinked, recalibrated, and lifted his head to look Gavin in the face.
“Yes, Dete— I mean…”
Gavin quirked a grin and gave a deep, throaty laugh that Nines could feel rumble through every inch of his core. “It’s Little Red Rutting Hood here. Red for short. And good, ‘cause I’ve got a lot to say and you’re as good as a captive audience for the next fifty minutes. Poor fuckin’ you.”
“Yes,” Nines said woodenly as Gavin determinately tried to coax his disabled arousal functions to life via his hips. “Poor me.”
---
Nines had no idea why he came back. The case was still ongoing, the investigation a work in progress. He was free to work on his own leads at the office. Encouraged in fact, since unlike Detective Reed he wasn’t confined to any specific location for the duration of the operation. There was no real need for him to return, especially not this soon after his last visit. Common sense told him that it could even be detrimental to the case for him to be seen returning; how many androids were there coming to a club of this size? It would only draw attention. It would only put more focus on Gavin, and that was the last thing the detective needed.
And yet…
And yet here Nines was, entering Club Elysium with another handful of cash to another disinterested bouncer. It was neither the third visit nor the fourth. No, Nines had been back enough nights by now that the bouncer didn’t bother to scan him for identification. Nines was a regular, the human had told him. Regulars don’t need to put up with things like that.
Nines hadn’t known how to process the shift in designation. Then again, when it came to this club and the specific dancer within, Nines didn’t know how to process a lot of things.
Tonight found Gavin situated on the main stage, performing his own set for the crowd at large. Nines’s databases told him this was a way for the club to draw up attention on individual dancers, to showcase the wares so to speak. The detective was wearing a similar outfit to the last one Nines had witnessed him in. Scanty women’s undergarments in a fetching shade of red, one that went well with his sun-kissed skin tone.
His name here is Red, Nines’s memory units supplied. Red was probably a theme for him. The lace garters that clung to his muscled thighs were less so. They were clipped into delicate looking black cashmere stockings, shiny and expensive. He had his smooth, covered knee hooked around an oiled up pole that was mounted into the floor and ceiling. Every beat of the music pulled another roll from Gavin’s hips. Every throb of a too-loud bass earned another inch of those legs parting for the audience hanging on to every second of the performance.
As an android, Nines did not stumble. He wasn’t programmed with the capability to stumble, not unless acted upon by an outside force. The sight of Gavin’s thrusting, bucking hips was not an outside force. It certainly wasn’t strong enough to act upon him, and Nines made sure to keep telling himself that as he collapsed into a chair at a table only a few feet from the main stage. At this distance he could see every bead of sweat on Gavin’s skin. He could analyze his respiration. He could practically taste the notes of exertion leaving the detective’s body with each breath he exhaled.
By the time the song ended and Gavin stepped down from the stage to collect his hoard of bills, Nines had nearly overburdened his CPU from the effort of capturing every single second of the performance in as high a resolution as his model permitted. He even took the time to hack into to club cameras, ascertain which had the best side views of the stage, and copy down their footage as well so he had every angle possible.
“Lookin’ for a dance?”
Nines stuttered back to the present, perhaps two or three overwrought commands away from overheating, and promptly froze when the face behind his eyes overlapped the one hovering overhead. Gavin was standing in front of his chair, hand propped on his hip and with a smile on his face that Nines could tell was completely fake.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Gavin lifted his hand and averted his eyes. “Your favorite, remember?”
A wave of something poured down Nines’s throat. It settled heavily in his stomach, sickly and firm. Guilt? He reached into his pocket obediently and pulled out the night’s roll of cash. Gavin took it easily, zipped it up in his thigh pouch, and dutifully crawled into Nines’s waiting lap.
The moment Gavin’s face was pointed towards the wall and not the club at large, he delivered in a flat voice, “You really need to stop coming here.”
Ah. Nines blinked and tried to ignore how unpleasant that reaction was. He looked to the side, analyzing the carpet particulate for want of something to do. Gavin had begun his dance, performing the perfunctory motions without much vigor. Nines dutifully raised his hands and placed them on Gavin’s hips. Rote behavior at this point. Instead of a smarmy comment, it only earned him a sigh from the detective above him.
“No excuse this time?” Gavin muttered, doing that tight little shimmy with his hips that usually sent Nines’s processors whirling. Rough hands settled on Nines’s shoulders, toying with the collar of his jacket. A grey one this time. A blazer. He’d thought it might look better than his plain, nondescript outfits from before had been. “Not gonna tell me you’re here to monitor my progress? To perform reconnaissance or, what did you call it? That shitty ass line you tried last time?”
Nines bit down on his bottom lip when Gavin let go of his shoulders to turn around entirely, flattening his spine against Nines’s chest. He rolled his head back on Nines’s shoulder, lips to his ear. Nines’s hands couldn’t help but rove over Gavin’s firm stomach. The tips of his fingers tickled from the lace hem of the panties.
“Additional surveillance,” he answered mutely. Even in his own ears it sounded like an excuse, and not even a good one.
It only took a look to know Gavin didn’t believe the falsehood. He kept dancing though. He kept moving his hips and grinding against Nines’s front, sending his sensors into a fit of reports on body heat, proximity alerts, textural differences between where Gavin was clothed and where he was bare.
“You know, some of the other dancers are jealous of me.”
The statement came out of nowhere. Nines tore himself from the task of memorizing the planes and textures of Gavin’s scars to furrow his brow instead. “Jealous?” Of how naturally limber Gavin was? His inherent grace? The way these garments clung so well to his body’s shape and the confidence with which Gavin wore them? There were a thousand reasons they could be jealous. All would be valid.
Gavin’s laugh was nearly lost in the sound of the next song picking up. It was a faster number this time, something low and trace-like with a pervasive beat that only enticed Gavin to grind a little harder. “Yeah, jealous. They think I’m hogging you. They call you the ATM. Like you’re some rich playboy android lookin’ for a sugarbaby.”
It took Nines a few moments to search the specific terms. His cheeks colored when the definitions scrolled past his internal processing display. “The average salary for a detective of my rank is—”
Another laugh. It was crueler this time, cocky in a way that felt right. Gavin turned around once more, facing Nines with a tight, mean grin. His thighs straddled his hips tightly, his chest looming close, closer, closer still until the burning heat of his flesh seared Nines’s sensors from every angle. “I know exactly what kinda money you make, tin can,” he cut in. A brow rose towards his hairline. “And that’s why I know exactly how much of it you’re wasting coming here every night.”
“I—”
“Cut the shit already, Nines,” Gavin sighed, hiding his aggravation by burying his face in the crook of Nines’s neck. “I know the precinct isn’t footing the bill for these visits. I talked to Anderson already and he said the discretionary fund only covered that first transfer. What the fuck are you doing here? What are you really doing here?”
Nines didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to articulate what he was feeling when feeling at all was something still so new to him. All he knew was that he liked this. He liked how it felt to have his hands on Gavin’s hips, to feel his waist twisting and turning in his lap. To have every ounce of his attention and focus placed on him and him alone. Nines parted his lips and— and—
The grinding promptly stopped. Gavin grew still in Nines’s lap. His expression darkened like a raincloud. “Is this because I’m not making progress fast enough for you?” he whispered, voice harsh and clipped. “Do you think I’m being inefficient as I bust my ass dealing with creeps and perverts all day? Is this your way to, to what? To monitor me? To make sure I’m not fucking around when I should be working?”
Every ounce of Nines’s being screamed at him to act. Gavin was spewing falsehoods. Patented falsehoods. He gripped Gavin’s hips tighter and shook his head with almost violent ferocity, squeezing down when he wasn’t sure how else to keep Gavin close. “No, no, that’s not right,” he muttered, shoving away dialogue options when each one was worse than the one before it. “It’s… I…”
“It’s what?” Gavin demanded, voice still harsh, rough, impersonal. “Maybe you’re just recording my dances to show the guys back in the office. You trying to make fun of me, Nines? ‘Cause if so, there are a hell of a lot of ways to do it cheaper.”
The idea of showing anyone any part of these experiences was anathema. Nines lifted his head and gave Gavin a brisk shake. “That’s not at all what I’m here to do,” he said, pushing through his own hesitance to just spit it out. Gavin liked forwardness. Perhaps it would serve him well here too. “I keep coming back because I like this. I… like it.” His voice softened. His hands trembled slightly. A malfunction. Run Diagnostics—
Gavin was still, and then he wasn’t. His eyes were hard, and then they weren’t. Understanding passed over him with visible progress, and Gavin’s entire posture shifted as his lips curled into a mean, self-satisfied grin. He leaned closer, dipping his head down as his groin rolled in teasing circles against Nines’s. Nines sputtered and froze when he registered that Gavin was hard beneath his panties.
“Really?” the detective breathed, knotting his fingers in the back of Nines’s hair. “You like this? You like how I dance on you? God, you’ve blown a few grand on me, so you gotta, right? You’re shaking like a wet fucking dog just from me grinding on your lap.”
Nines wanted to close his eyes. If he did, he’d miss watching. His processors whirled and whined when he couldn’t decide how to react. He nodded his head though, because Gavin wanted to be answered. He wanted Gavin to be pleased with him. He wanted more of what the detective was promising with every single teasing gyration of his body against his own.
“That’s a pretty interesting thing to want, Nines.”
“Is it?”
Another smile. A bead of sweat rolled down the long, thick length of Gavin’s neck. Nines was overcome with the desire to taste it. He wanted that chemical compound to flash across his internal display. He wanted to know precisely what Gavin was made of. What he tasted like. Nines just wanted.
A finger rose up and settled beneath Nines’s chin. With a slight amount of upwards pressure, Gavin closed Nines’s mouth for him with a quiet, muted click.
“It is,” the detective whispered, looming closer. “It really, really is.”
The world froze. Based on their current positions, the approximate weight of Gavin’s body and the forward lean, Nines could surmise what was about to occur. Somehow, it still managed to surprise him anyway.
Gavin’s lips were chapped and hot against Nines’s slack mouth. It lasted a second if even that.
It lasted just long enough to completely erase the line of dialogue Nines had ready on his tongue.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Gavin promised, his generous mouth quirked into a fond grin. He patted Nines on the cheek and slipped out of his lap, but not before reaching into Nines’s breast pocket to pull out another handful of bills. “After we catch this guy.”
Nines opened his mouth. “I already paid,” he said weakly. It didn’t matter though. He had nothing better to spend his money on, and he’d pay more than he had combined for a chance to feel Gavin’s lips against his own once more.
“We charge extra for kisses here,” Gavin whispered, slipping the money beneath the garterbelt on his thigh. “But don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry?”
Gavin gave his cheek another sharp pat. Nines leaned into it, chasing his hand, chasing him. It earned him another smile. Another perfect smile on a face that Nines would drain his bank account to see focused solely on him for the rest of his days.
A wink followed. Nines’s thirium pump stuttered dangerously in his chest. Gavin laughed.
“I’ll make sure the next ones are free.”
Oh.
Oh.
“I’ll look forward to that,” Nines sputtered, but Gavin was already gone. Onto the next client. Onto the next dance, the next lap to grind on with those sinful hips and that devilish charm.
Nines stood up and made for the door. The sooner this operation ended, the better. He’d work all night if he had to.
Anything to feel those lips on his again. Anything.