Chapter Text
The strip joint was just the meeting place, the strippers meant to be in the background. But all business had stopped. Every eye was intently focused on the gorgeous blond on stage, known only as the Fallen Angel. His face was truly angelically beautiful; full pink lips, a shy, sparkling smile, big blue eyes, high cheekbones and delicate features. He was stunning... and he knew it. His eyes sparkled with confidence as he strode on stage, clothed only in a pink lacey garter, a tiny pair of pink leopard print briefs and a dangerous looking pair of spiked heeled stilettos. The lithe muscles of his shoulders and arms rippled as he moved, his torso tapering to a trim waist, perfectly defined abs, chiseled hip bones and a sensual V dipping down below his waist band. When he turned, he exposed the dip of his back and the round swell of his perfectly round ass, barely covered by the tight stretched spandex over it. He wasn’t tanned like the other dancers and so he almost seemed to glow ethereally under the bright lights, miles of pristine creamy skin begging to be marked. His soft blond hair shining and sparkling as he moved. The contrast was stark with the black background behind him. He looked exactly like his stage name; impossibly innocent and yet incredibly sexual at the same time.
The music cranked up and the boy began to work the crowd the way he was famous for, teasing the men who came to see him by turning around and shaking his plump buttocks, the luscious globes of flesh wobbling in his tiny shorts and threatening to tear the tautly stretched fabric. The men screamed and tossed money at him, catcalling him lewdly and whistling in appreciation. He sauntered over to the edge of the stage and grabbed one man’s head, shoving it into his crotch and rubbing himself against his face. With some encouragement, the man grabbed the elastic around the blond’s smooth thigh with his mouth and stripped the lacy garter off his leg, down over his delicate ankle and high heel. Once it was free the man held it high like a trophy before bringing it down to his nose and inhaling deeply.
The crowd roared as the boy strutted back across the stage and grabbed ahold of the pole, rubbing, gyrating and wiggling against it, simulating masturbation, worshiping it as if it were a giant phallus he wanted to fuck right in front of the audience’s hungry eyes. He grasped the pole with both hands, lifting that perfect body into the air, effortlessly, spinning in the air like he had done it all his life. Like he was weightless. He flew through air, spinning faster and faster until he stopped and flipped, gripping the pole with his thighs, sliding and continuing to spin. He squeezed it between his legs like a cock, finally coming back down to earth, landing gracefully on four inch stilettos that only served to lengthen his already impossibly long legs. He smiled wide at the audience, a charming grin alive with youthful exuberance and recklessness as he jerked the waistband of his pants down further, exposing a hint of golden curls. The crowd screamed and showered him with dollars, one man fainting beside the stage as the Dirty Angel whirled and wheeled on the stage, deftly wriggling his hips free of the clinging fabric until he stripped those tiny briefs off and exposed his bare ass to the audience. He wore only a tiny pink jockstrap, covering the bulge between his pale legs, one strap crossing above his ass and the other two crossing underneath his plump buttcheeks. He looked mischievously over his shoulder and shook his ass again, the flesh jiggling unconstrained this time and then slowly bent over, spreading his heels apart and bending forward at the waist to caress the shaft of the pole with his fingers. He bent further and further, every inch paid for in screams and dollar bills until finally his cheeks spread and pretty pink of his hole was exposed to the entire room. He licked his finger, the other gripping the pole for balance and then slowly moved the spit soaked digit to his crinkled anus, circling it teasingly and then pulling back, the crowd roaring in disappointment as he did. The little blond looked back over his shoulder and winked coyly before finally thrusting his finger inside himself, his narrow hips jerking in time to the beat. Some of the men in the crowd were openly jacking off at this point, hot and bothered by the boy on stage, his privates dangling between his spread thighs, barely covered by the tiny piece of pink fabric, his own slender finger sawing in and out of his pink hole, hips lewdly gyrating to the raunchy music. Finally, he withdrew, and then pressed two of his fingers inside and apart, pulling open his hole, baring his ass so the audience could see just a hint of his blushing red insides before closing his legs and wrapping himself eagerly around the shining silver pole. He squeezed and ground against it, gyrating and wriggling his hips and pressing himself against it as his gorgeous ass rippled with every movement.
It seemed as if he had completely forgotten the audience. His perfect pink lips parted slightly, his head back, given over to the wild abandon of the music. His delicate throat was exposed, a slight sheen of sweat coating his perfect, stunning body as he masturbated himself against the hard metal between his long legs. The song was nearly over, the pace ever increasing, the rhythm punishing. It pushed and the boy pulled, matching every bit of the music’s rising intensity with his own. He worked the pole with with grace and innocent sensuality and blatant need, humping it with his eyes closed as he moaned in pleasure, his hips jerking as he climaxed in his tiny jock, white streams of cum soaking the front of it and dribbling wetly down his inner thighs. Even those who swore they were straight had to fight their body’s reaction to the nubile beauty. Every man in the room wanted him for their own.
But none more so than the golden eyed man seated in the back corner, his piercing gaze locked unwavering, not on the boy’s legs or his hips or his ass, but on his face, memorizing every flickering expression. His nostrils were flared. His hands clenched. He wore the look of a man possessed. A man obsessed, a man for whom one night, one dance would never be enough. He wore the look of a demon who wanted to OWN the dirty little angel on stage and drag him down to hell where he could keep him all to himself. Forever.
-
Akihito walked to the back of the club and sat down at his dressing table with a sigh of relief. The heels he wore on stage were insane, practically forcing him to walk on his toes. He sighed in pleasure as he rubbed the circulation back into his feet. His best friend Kou sashayed over, dressed in a barely there tank top and black vinyl short shorts so tight they rode right up the crack of his ass, practically threatening to slice him in half. Everything was visible, despite being technically covered. Kou smiled, his painted lips curving, “Here you go gorgeous, you nearly brought down the house.”
He handed Akihito a cold bottle of water and the boy gulped it down thirstily, “Thanks man” He wiped his mouth messily, trailing water droplets down over the back of his hand and smearing his lipgloss all over his chin. Kou smirked at him, “You’re helpless. Hold still.”
Akihito held tight as Kou reapplied the peachy gloss and repowdered his face. Kou was obsessed with getting Akihito to wear makeup but younger boy refused most of it. The fake eyelashes and dark eyemakup Kou preferred just made his eyes water and itch.
His friend grinned as he touched up his makeup, “Your admirer is here again!”
He groaned a little inside. “Of course he is.” Akihito muttered unhappily. “Its Thursday, isn’t it?”
He came to the club every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. Had for weeks now. Always sat in Akihito’s section, usually in the corner if it was available. He was a complete mystery. All Akihito knew was that he was a businessman who worked nearby. He didn’t even know his name. But he didn’t need to know his name. Akihito didn’t like him. He was creepy. Didn’t matter how good looking he was.
“You gonna get him to go in the back with you tonight? Give him a private dance?” Kou wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. The real money to be made at Club Sion was in the back rooms, where the customers could pay to have the dancers do whatever they liked. No touching. But there were toys and all kinds of kinky games to play. Akihito had always been an exhibitionist. It made him hot to be watched. Which meant he was in the perfect profession.
He shook his head in frustration, “No. He always turns me down flat.”
Kou looked at him in confusion, “Wait, all this time he’s been coming to watch you dance, he’s never once taken you in the back?”
Akihito shook his head as he threw away his sticky jockstrap and wiped his groin clean of his juices. Kou tapped his lip, “Thats just…. weird man.”
Akihito just shrugged as he wriggled into his own pair of circulation stopping vinyl hotpants and jerked the micro top on. It was just long enough to cover his perky nipples, but sheer enough that the hint of pink areolas could be seen through the thin white fabric. Sion was written in black script across the front just in case anybody got confused about where they were. Break time was over, it was time to get out on the floor and make some tips and hopefully take some guy in the back by the end of the night. Stripping was the least of his job. Every dancer was required to work the floor for the majority of their shift. He slipped his dainty feet into a pair of high heels, still high, but much more reasonable than the ones he danced in. Kou ruffled his hair affectionately and slung his arm around him, ready to walk out into the club together. Akihito felt a wave of tiredness wash over him and he swayed. Kou looked at his pale face, “You ok man?”
He nodded, “Yea, I just…. need to get some more water, go take a leak. I’ll meet you out there.”
His friend looked concerned, “You sure? Maybe I should go with you.”
Akihito shook his head adamantly, “What do I look like some chick who needs to hold hands to go to the bathroom, get the fuck out of here!” He grinned jokingly and Kou laughed. He left the dressing room and Akihito was alone. He bent over his dressing table and pulled out a small compact mirror, pink and covered with rhinestones. To anyone who didn’t know better it looked just like any other regular cosmetic compact, flipping it open even revealed a small round mirror and face powder. There was another latch though that Akihito had to catch with his nail, that opened up the false back from which Akihito carefully extracted a tiny bag filled with white powder. Keeping his back to the door, he carefully tapped out a small pile, and then using a credit card he separated the pile into two short white lines on the mirror. Rolling up one of his dollar bills, he bent his blond head, placed the straw against his left nostril, holding his right nostril closed and inhaled deeply, sniffing like he had a cold. The first bit was always a bit unpleasant but the cocaine was quickly absorbed through the lining of his nasal passages, numbing up the delicate tissues. Akihito did the same thing with the other line, switching to his right nostril. He then scraped the remaining powder into a tiny pile, careful not to waste even a bit of the precious substance, and then huffed that too.
He sat back with a happy sigh and let the familiar euphoria wash over him. He felt elated, fantastic, like he do anything, be anyone, take on the world. It made him feel happy and awake and sexy and horny. All of his tiredness, anxiety, fear and nervous insecurity was immediately washed away. He forgot where he was, and even why he was here, he became a creature of impulse free of inhibition. He looked in the mirror and grinned, his pupils dark, his nose just slightly reddened. He closed the compact and placed it back in the drawer. He hated that he had to keep it from Kou but he knew his friend would freak out about it. Which was ridiculous. Kou was the only goddamned stripper in the entire club that was clean. Akihito had come in determined to stay clean too, but it just wasn’t realistic. The hours were too long, the work too tiring. His stage fright had been nearly crippling in the beginning. One night before the show, one of the older strippers, Mitarai, had seen him shaking and offered him a hit. Nervous and confused and eager for anything that might help take the edge off, Akihito took it. It had been the best night of his life. For the first time stripping had been fun, all of the eyes on him exhilarating instead of intimidating.
He freely admitted he depended on it now, but Akihito didn’t see it any different than the businessmen who drank four cups of espresso to get them through the day or the chainsmokers filling their lungs with nicotine. He needed it, to keep him awake and energetic and sociable. He had gradually gone from just taking it before going on stage to taking it when he woke up, in the afternoon when he felt tired, after the shows when his high crashed and pretty much anytime he wanted to …. but he wasn’t like a crackhead or anything, he knew he was still in control. He could quit if he wanted to. He just didn’t want to. Akihito admired himself in the mirror. The effect it had on his body was incredible. Akihito had had a good body to begin with, naturally lean with a high metabolism, but thanks to the appetite suppressing effects of the coke, his body was now totally cut, just like all the other strippers, every last muscle toned and defined, not an ounce of fat on him. He circled his tiny waist with his hands, smiling and preening in the mirror, giving his reflection one last jaunty wink before heading to the floor.
There were two sections of tables, both a lower and upper level with a ramp connecting them, easier for the customers to handle once they got a few drinks in them. The upper level had a large bar where pretty shirtless boys handed out drinks to patrons. All the while, other boys, easily identified as strippers by their oiled skin and barely-there underwear, strutted through the maze of tables, smiling, sitting on laps, and occasionally leading business men to a dark back rooms full of wipeable leather couches and dim lights.
The mystery man was sitting at the same table as usual, in Akihito’s section, looking as surly and silent as ever. He slapped a smile on his face anyway. He refused to let the man’s silence get to him. He loved this job, it was fun, easy money, no matter how difficult the customers. And anyways, the guy wasn’t completely immune to Akihito. He had definitely seen that mouth quirk upwards at the corners a few times in response to Akihito’s flirting.
He grabbed an icy cold shotglass and a bottle of their finest whiskey and put them on a tray, holding it gracefully with one hand. He smiled wide as he walked over, swaying his hips just a hint more than usual and placed it carefully in front of his most frequent customer, trying not to let the man see his jittering as the coke continued to flood his nervous system. He leaned over seductively while he uncapped the bottle and poured the liquor into the shotglass, filling it to the brim. The man was incredibly handsome, every inch of him radiating raw power. His shoulders seemed impossible broad in that trademark three piece suit.
“How are you big guy? Long day at work? How about I help you with some of that stress in one of the backrooms?”
The man's eyes stared at him intensely and Akihito could swear he saw a spark of anger ignite in their golden depths. But that was crazy. Why would he be angry? He had done nothing wrong. Akihito felt his resolve waiver. “Or not?” He joked awkwardly, cocking his head to the side slightly, his silver blonde hair falling across his eyes just a little.
“Sit” The man commanded, his deep voice was unnerving and Akihito did as he asked, sitting down so fast it embarrassed him a little the way he obeyed immediately. The guy just made him so nervous. And if he was being completely honest, he was a little bit afraid of him. Maybe more than a little bit. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his naked thighs. This was the part he hated most. The man always made Akihito sit with him. Sometimes for hours. Not saying one word. Akihito had complained about it with the club manager once and the club manager shrugged, “What? He pays you right?”
“Well, yea” Akihito had said. He paid him more just for sitting there than Akihito could make taking half the floor into the back rooms.
“Then what have you got to complain about? Guy pays you to sit there and look pretty. Bet most of the other boys in this place would kill for a customer like that. Make the weirdo happy. Be grateful.”
Akihito was grateful. Kind of. He got to sit down and rest while all the other boys hustled in high heels. Some nights could be torture. But then again…. there were different kinds of torture. He could feel those hot golden eyes almost glaring at him, taking in every inch of overly exposed skin. He couldn’t help fidgeting and twisting in his seat. He wasn’t sure if it was the drugs making his skin crawl or the man’s creepy stare. He knew that the heat in his gaze was more than lust. There was anger in it too. And he didn't understand it, but it made him incredibly uncomfortable. The businessman made him sit beside him through four more acts and pour his drinks for him, the only communication between them when he waved his hand and Akihito would refill his shot glass. Akihito tried to keep his eyes off of him but he couldn’t help it. Just like every time, Akihito felt his gaze drawn back to him again and again. Studying him under his eyelashes as if he could learn more about him if he stared long enough. Who was he? He was so mysterious. So handsome. His skin was perfect, unmarked. All the times he had come into the club, the only words he had spoken were to place his drink order. Akihito often caught him staring at him as well. He never looked away though or acted as if he was embarrassed by being caught. At first Akihito had flirted and chatted with him, hoping for some sort of response, but he never got one. Finally he gave up.
With each visit, the man’s golden gaze weighed on him.
They sat in silence until finally the man pressed a roll of bills into Akihito’s hand and Akihito knew he was dismissed. He stood, bowing low and awkward, “Thank you sir, I hope you have a wonderful evening.” He looked up flirtatiously through his naturally long thick lashes, “I look forward to seeing you again soon.”
The man grunted but he shoved another wad of bills towards Akihito, waving him away dismissively as he lit a cigarette. Akihito took the proffered money with another quick bow, tucking it into his underwear and then scurried away as fast as he could in three inch heels.
Now was the part he hated second worst. The man never left right away. He always stayed, watching Akihito from across the room. The possessive look in his eyes burned Akihito’s skin when he talked with other patrons, when he leaned too close or laughed too loud or someone fondled him. Which was absurd because all of those things were as much a part of his job as the dancing. Regardless, Akihito felt every minute of the man’s presence with an uncanny awareness. Months of his unwavering gazes made him nervous and it was nothing he could explain, put a finger on, but he smelled like trouble, with a capital T and Aki wanted none of it.
Akihito smiled and served the next customers to sit in his section. He made them laugh with idle chatter and quick banter, hoping to make each person’s day just a little better, all while seducing them with his eyes and pointedly ignoring the dark cloud watching him from across the room. The stares only grew more thunderous and intense when Akihito flirted or sat in one of the patron’s laps. Akihito didn’t know why he even cared. He had certainly never asked Akihito to sit in his lap. Kou thought he was just shy, but Akihito felt differently. There was something off in those golden eyes. Something dark. Something twisted. Something that scared the life out of him.
He walked over to the bar to pick up a special drink order for one of the customers and Kou sidled up to him while he was waiting for the bartender to mix it, leaning down to whisper in Akihito’s ear, “He fancies you”
Akihito jumped at Kou’s whispered statement. He hissed back, “He’s creepy….he just stares at me. He never says anything. It makes me feel strange. He's like, angry, all the time.”
“Well I say he’s just shy. And anyways, he’s a HUNK”
Akihito smirked, “You think any man over six feet tall is a hunk.”
Kou had a thing for big men. The bigger the better. Which was good because Kou, while beautiful, wasn’t exactly short, especially in high heels.
He had to agree with his friend this time though. The man was drop dead gorgeous. Thick midnight black hair crowned his head. He had a strong jaw and full lips, a noble looking nose. His face was enough to make most women swoon even without his gorgeous, penetrating eyes. Dark lashes and a unusual golden color that made your skin tingle. Akihito would know because those golden eyes never left his bare skin the entire time the man was in the club. And he was tall, too tall. Well over six feet, he towered over Akihito on the few occasions they had brushed up against each other in passing, even with Akihito wearing his stilettos. They were a complete mismatch on size. Akihito knew he was tiny, but the large man made him feel impossibly small. He would crush Akihito’s petite five foot five frame in bed. He had massive, broad shoulders under those slick three piece suits and once he had taken his coat off and rolled his dress shirt up over massive forearms, thick with muscle and veins, like a bodybuilder’s, his hands large, his fingers long. Hot. One of the first things Akihito noticed about men. Large, strong, beautiful hands turned him on more than he would like to admit. And the man’s hands looked very strong. Despite his creepiness, Akihito couldn’t help but wonder what lay underneath his clothing. The occasional bulge he glimpsed under his expensive suit pants promised a nice surprise to whoever was lucky enough to being on the receiving end of that… package. But despite Akihito’s attraction to his body, the man’s wretched personality was more than enough to turn him off.
Akihito cleared his throat and tried to distract himself with the other patrons, one of the drunker ones reaching out and tipping Akihito over and back into his lap. He was fully occupied pushing the man’s fumbling hands away from his butt and out from under his shirt when a chill crept up his spine and he looked up. Those scorching eyes bored a hole in him as the tall man stood, shrugging his suitcoat back into place, angrily striding past Akihito, walking closer to the boy than he really needed to.
Aki called a grateful “Thank you! Have a nice evening!” after him, but the giant man gave no indication that he heard. He scowled at the man’s broad back. Rude. As soon he was gone Akihito turned his attention back to flirting with his more sociable guests. His shift was almost over. He had several offers to go in the back rooms but he didn’t take them. He had made more than enough money thanks to his mystery man, but in the same token, he had ruined Akihito’s high.
He quietly pulled on his jeans and worn T-shirt, stuffing his feet into scuffed sneakers as the rest of the dancers laughed and joked around him, a few in the corner openly snorting lines off a glass tabletop.
The cool night air swirled around him, going right through the thin fabric of his hoodie, racing down his spine. He shivered in the wind, hugging himself tightly to block out the wind. As he got closer to his apartment, he felt a sudden sense of unease come over him, his eyes swept the quiet streets behind him but nothing was amiss. He continued on, his steps quicker than before, unable to shake the sense of foreboding.
His heart was racing in his chest as he walked faster. He could swear he could hear footsteps echoing his own, but every time he looked behind him he saw nothing but shadows. He shook his head at himself but Akihito picked up the pace, walking even faster. The sound of the footsteps behind him increased too. Akihito gasped, choking on his fear. His terror rose to a state of panic and he began to run, throwing himself into a dark alleyway and hiding behind a cluster of trashcans. He peered into the street. The sound of the footsteps had stopped. All he could hear were the sounds of a sleeping city. A dog barking in the distance. A baby crying somewhere. He waited for a long, long time but heard nothing, finally sighing and standing up. He felt so stupid, but it wasn’t the first time the cocaine had made him feel jumpy and paranoid. Maybe he really should try to cut back. Just a little.
His legs felt cramped as he walked slowly to the edge of the alley. Almost as if in slow motion, a dark figure moved to stand in front of him, blocking his path. To Akihito’s frightened eyes he looked enormous, like a giant monster made out of the darkness itself. Akihito stood stock still, his feet pinned to the ground, terrified by the burning fury in the golden eyes that were fixed on him.
He took one small step back and saw an angry glance shadow the man’s face. His powerful arm reached out for Akihito and the boy screamed, running away. The wall at the end of the alleyway was tall, much too tall for him to jump, but perhaps he could climb up on the dumpster and…
The man loomed over him from behind grabbing him and pinning him back against the hard brick wall, his strength effortlessly subduing the much smaller boy, his powerful hands easily trapping Akihito’s thrashing arms and pinning them up by the wrists. He held both of Akihito’s small hands in one large paw, gripping the fragile bones tightly. Akihito turned white as a sheet as the icy gaze speared him. He stared back with wide-eyed helplessness, knowing that he was no match for this hulking man. His face was in shadow but the stony set of his strong jaw said that he would tolerate no more shit from Akihito. He leaned forward and his breath was hot on Akihito’s cheeks as his other hand pressed something up against his face. He gagged as the sickening smell of ether flooded his nose. The man pressed it tightly against his face, keeping it snug against his mouth and nose so that with every intake of breath, he sucked in fumes.
The merciless golden eyes never left Akihito’s terrified blue ones. As tears rolled from the corners of his eyes, the face softened, but his grip remained firm. Aki’s eyelids grew heavy as more fumes were breathed into his lungs, fogging his mind. He tossed his head from side to side, to clear it, but the steady influx of fumes was only making him groggier. His long lashes fluttered as he tried to stay awake, but the struggle was futile and his eyelids finally slipped closed and stayed that way. He slipped into unconsciousness, sagging limply. His small, helpless body was lifted into the man’s arms and laid gently on the expensive leather of a luxury import. His wrists and feet were bound before the black Mercedes began to roll forward, carrying the Fallen Angel off into the dark night.
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