Chapter Text
-
I can tell that money’s got you working
got your body so wet
and we’re finally here in person
I taste pain
and regret
in your sweat
You’ve been waiting for me…
-
There is something extremely annoying yet utterly familiar about waking up to a hundred-and-fifty-three pound weight of half-naked boy pressing Calum deeper into his matrass. Calum’s eyes are halfway open and the side of his face is pressed into his pillow. He feels somewhat serene right now, with the golden early evening light streaming in through the crack of his curtains, and his soft sheets wrapped around him. He’s caught in that moment right before actually waking up, when everything is soft and nice and alright.
It lasts for about twenty seconds. Then he remembers that he’s miserable.
‘You need to wake up.’ Ashton’s rough I-just-woke-up voice mumbles in his ear. ‘Bar’s gonna open in three hours.’
‘I’ll kill you.’ Calum’s response comes as he closes his eyes again. Maybe if he pressed them shut hard enough he’ll seize to exist.
‘See you always say that. When are you gonna follow through with what you promise babe?’
‘Get off me!’
Calum rolls over and effectively throws Ashton off of his back. He lands next to Calum on his king-size bed, making the matrass bounce. Calum opens his eyes completely now, staring up at his ceiling and trying to remember why the hell he took a bartending job in a strip club in the first place.
Oh right. Unpaid student loans. Life sucks.
‘That was rude.’ Ashton mumbles, stretching out his limbs and making the most obscene moaning noise in the process.
It’s around half past seven in the evening, the “golden hour”. Sun is just setting, bathing everything in a soft golden light. It’s get-up time for Ashton and Calum. They have to be at the club by sunset to get everything ready for opening at nine. Their sleeping schedule is as fucked up as it could possibly be with them working all night and sleeping all day, but for them it works.
‘I’m gonna make you some cereal and then you gotta get up.’ Ashton breaks the silence again. He pushes himself from Calum’s bed, all wild sandy curls and sun-kissed skin as he walks out of Calum’s room in his black boxer briefs.
His roommate is still trying. Calum knows that. And he knows he’s a shit friend for not trying harder himself and kind of just letting himself be babied, but it was just so tempting to let it all happen when Ashton tried to help him feel better by bringing him breakfast and letting him sleep in.
All good things come to an end though, and at some point Ashton’s approach shifted from babying to dragging Calum out of bed and forcing him to shower and go outside. He refused to admit it but it did help Calum a lot, even though mornings are still difficult.
The sheets are soft and the bed is warm and Calum really doesn’t want to get up, cause it’s so much easier to stay between the sheets and sulk, but he doesn’t have a choice. At least, if he wants to keep his job. Which is, beside Ashton, about the only steady thing in his life right now. He shouldn’t fuck it up.
He drags himself out of bed, tidies it as good as he can and pulls a disregarded black t-shirt he finds by his nightstand over his head. When he walks out of his bedroom he finds Ashton on their living room couch with two bowls of cereal. He takes one from the boy and sits down next to him on their creamy white couch facing their small TV. Calum is pretty sure neither of them are fit to have a white couch, but it was a gift from Ashton’s mother a year ago.
‘So how are we feeling today?’ Ashton asks semi-spontaneously, spooning lucky charms into his mouth like a mad man, slurping the milk. Calum shivers at the sound. Fucking disgusting.
‘I’m alright.’ Calum mumbles, staring on his own bowl. Little rainbows and pink hearts are floating around in his milk and it’s about the gayest thing he’s ever seen.
And he works in a male strip club for god’s sake.
‘Yeah?’
Ashton doesn’t believe him, Calum can tell by his voice. The boy doesn’t blame him though. Of course Ashton wouldn’t believe him, Calum has been a mess over the last two months. The truth is: he is still a bit hurt, but lately he is been getting way better.
‘I do.’ Calum says as genuine as he can manage, looking up from his gay breakfast to make eye-contact with his gay roommate. ‘Really Ash. You’ve been a really great friend to me. I’m sorry for being an emotional dickhead all the time.’
‘Don’t forget weeping little son of a bitch.’ Ashton answers matter-of-factly, pointing at Calum with his spoon, little drops of milk landing in between them on the couch.
Calum grins and elbows his friend in the ribs, making him groan.
‘No but seriously Cal.’ Ashton continues. ‘It’s okay. I know it hasn’t been easy for you. I just wish you would get out and enjoy yourself some more. You’re alive but you’re not living anymore, you know?’
‘I know.’ Calum mumbles, pulling his legs in and tugging his bare feet under his bum. He frowns. ‘It’s just, after work I’m tired and when I get up it’s time for work again.’
‘Tonight we get off quite early. Let’s just hit the town and see where it takes us, okay?’
Calum looks at Ashton briefly. He hasn’t been ‘out’ like that for a while, and he doesn’t really want to, but Ashton’s eyes are begging him and he can’t really say no to someone who’s been the only reason he even left his bedroom the past months. So he gives him a small nod.
‘Fine.’
-
The club is buzzing.
Calum knows he was a bit negative about his job earlier, but now that he is behind the bar, skilfully throwing bottles around and mixing drinks for the costumers, he feels way better.
And he remembers why he took the job: because he loves this place. The club is all dark red velvet and soft lighting, creating a relaxed and sexy atmosphere. The bar is situated in the far left corner of the club, countless bottles of alcohol on shelves sunken into the wall behind Calum and Ashton illuminated by bright white neon lights. The rest of the club is filled with antique looking tables and chairs, coated with more velvet. The stage takes up the entire length of the front of the club, from wall to wall, with a short catwalk and a pole in the middle.
On the left and the right of the club are small rooms, shielded by red see-through robes. Calum knows that’s where people go to have private dances, but he’s never been in there himself.
Right now, Fifth Harmony is playing with “work from home” through the surround sound system. Calum doesn’t exactly like the song, but when Mason under the pseudonym “Mars” is dancing to it on the main stage he can stand it. Mason is one of the best dancers in the club, moving agile and smooth over the stage, dancing the choreography Calum is sure the girls dance in the actual videoclip as well.
He’s wearing Timberlands and black boxer briefs, one of those neon-yellow safety vests with the reflecting stripes on it loosely on his frame, showing off his tanned six-pac and huge biceps. His stubble only adds to the outfit: he looks like a sexually frustrated gay construction worker.
Calum likes the way the club doesn’t just make boys dance, but gives them a theme as well. It’s way more than just a strip club, the dancers are actual performers. The shows they put on are endlessly rehearsed and adapted before they make it to the stage. It gives this place a Magic-Mike vibe. Though it isn’t some kind of theatre: the boys still do lap dances and take the money from the costumers directly into their shorts. It’s filthy but with class.
‘You’ve seen Michael tonight?’ Ashton asks while moving behind Calum, placing his hand loosely on the boy’s shoulder and grabbing a bottle of Bacardi Razz. He took his tie off some time ago, tying it around his head in order to tame his curls. The first few buttons of his dress shirt are open, and he looks down-right hot. Calum isn’t attracted to Ashton, but he sure understand why some of the costumers are. Ashton always plays them a little, giggling and winking to get them to hang around and buy more drinks.
Calum himself is wearing a white dress-shirt and a red bowtie, black skinny jeans and black Vans under it. The club orders them to dress decently, but they can put their own spin to it. Calum likes wearing fancy clothes: it makes him feel somewhat significant and sexy.
‘No, why?’ Calum reacts, focussing on making some Margaritas.
His hands move quickly, wetting the edges of the glass and dipping them in salt before filling the glass with ice cubes. He feels the eyes of the guy who ordered the drink on him, watching him closely. Calum thrives on it, he loves the way people watch him as he does what he does, it stroking his ego when their eyes widen in admiration of his skills.
‘Just asking.’ Ashton says, shrugging. Calum grins at him and Ashton rolls his eyes, flipping him off.
They both know damn well that Ashton just wants to know if Michael is dancing tonight.
Calum can see why Ashton finds Michael attractive, kind of. The boy is hot, sure, and a great dancer too, but he doesn’t really see Ashton be with someone like Michael. Ashton is pretty much everything Michael isn’t: Rational, mature and somewhat modest. The boys seems like a damn whirlwind where Ashton is a calming breeze.
But maybe that’s what he needs, Calum doesn’t know.
When the music falls silent and Mason leaves the stage, Calum can lean against the bar and breathe for a while. The costumers are all sitting contently at the tables or leaning against the stage, and Ashton is busy placing “blow job” shots on one of the shot boy’s trays. He grabs a can of whipped cream from the fridge and tops the shots with it, then throwing his head back and squirting some into his mouth. He winks at the shot boy who’s blushing deeply.
‘Slut.’ Calum comments when the boy leaves, walking towards a group of young guys who throw the shots back without using their hands like “blow jobs” should be drank.
‘Shut up, I’m just having a little fun.’ Ashton reacts, shoving Calum before handing him a beer. They’re technically not allowed to drink during work hours, but their boss doesn’t mind a beer or two. As long as they’re not taking their clothes off and dancing on the bar.
A deep male voice announces the next dancer: “Gabriel”. Calum’s head turns to Ashton, who has a smirk on his face. Gabriel is Michael’s stage name: after the angel who messages from God to certain people. Michael once jokingly said it means that he is a message from god to all the people who visit the club.
When Michael takes the stage, “Gorilla” by Bruno Mars starts playing. Michael walks onto the stage wearing nothing but black boxer briefs, beautiful orange, white and black tiger stripes painted onto his entire body. The boy’s hair is pitch black now, which is new to Calum. The last time he saw Michael dance it was lime-green. He has to admit though: Michael pulls off the black as great as any other colour he’s ever had it.
Michael slowly makes his way onto the stage, walking towards the pole. He isn’t the best dancer there is, but the way that boy works the pole is mesmerizing. He hooks his leg around the pole and swings around sensually, clearly loving the way his audience reacts to him.
Calum slips past Ashton and lets him watch Michael while he takes some orders and mixes some drinks, he’s a good friend like that. From the corner of his eye he can see Ashton intensely staring at Michael, sometimes making eye-contact with the black-haired boy. Michael looks back almost challenging, like he wants Ashton to come up on the stage and take him right there.
It makes Calum uncomfortable as fuck.
When the song ends Michael leaves the stage and a different boy makes an appearance. Ashton turns back around and faces Calum again, a determined look on his face.
‘I’m gonna fuck him.’ Ashton announces then the last costumer takes his drink from the bar and walks off.
‘Well then.’ Calum comments, raising his eyebrows. ‘You’re hardly discrete. Is Michael aware? Cause that’s, like, important stuff.’
Ashton rolls his eyes, taking another swing from his beer.
‘Dude, I really, really want to have sex with him.’ Ashton clarifies, as if Calum wasn’t already aware. He sighs and leans onto the bar with his elbows, staring mindlessly into the club. ‘Have for a while. He’s so… I don’t even know. He winds me the fuck up, and he knows it. That dumbass smirk of his.’
‘I thought we were gonna go out tonight.’ Calum teases, washing some glasses a shot boy places on the bar. He regrets the words as soon as he sees Ashton’s facial expression change from determined and aroused to guilty.
‘Oh, shit, you’re right. Here I am placing myself before you.’
‘No, dude, don’t. It’s about time you put yourself before me after two months of getting me to stop being a little bitch. Go have sex with Michael, you’ve been drooling over his ass for weeks now and he obviously wants you and I didn’t really want to go out in the first place.’ Calum quickly replies. Ashton looks unsure, but Calum nods at him.
‘Dude, I really, really want you to have sex with him.’ Calum copies Ashton’s earlier words, making the boy laugh.
‘Fine. I think we get off in like an hour, I’ll go find him backstage. See if I can take him to his place, so you can get some sleep.’
‘Would be nice, yes.’ Calum comments. He’s just about to call one of the shot boys over to have him take some more orders, when the music stops again and the deep announcer voice flows through the speakers like honey.
‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ He speaks. The lights everywhere in the club dim, even the white neon one’s behind Ashton and Calum, except for the lights on the stage. Ashton raises his eyebrows at Calum who answers him with a shrug: they both have no idea what’s going on.
‘Tonight… someone is losing their virginity.’ The announcer voice continues. ‘Please reach deep into your wallets to make him feel warm… and welcome…’
The way the guy announces the words sends a shiver down Calum’s spine, the boy not being sure if they’re good or bad shivers. But he gets it now: this is gonna be the first dance of some new boy.
‘Blue Moon presents: Blondie.’
‘Blondie.’ Ashton repeats, laughing. ‘What a terrible name.’
Calum nods agreeing, but the announcer did make him somewhat curious to who this boy might be.
Seconds later “Practice” by Drake starts playing, one of Calum’s personal favourites. It seems as though everything in the club has come to a pause, everybody’s attention, including Ashton’s and Calum’s, is on the stage.
Calum’s lips part just a little when he watches the boy walk onto the stage.
He’s tall, like really tall, but the way he walks makes him look so small Calum is wondering if this boy is even legal. His skin is so light it almost reflects the bright club lights like a mirror. He’s wearing nothing but tiny golden shorts that leave Calum kind of breathless. His hair is blonde and soft-looking, which explains “blondie”, and even from across the club Calum can see how blue his eyes are.
He looks fucking gorgeous.
I can tell that you’ve been practicing…
The boy walks over to the pole, somewhat shy and intimidated and at the same time ridiculously sensual and smooth. He stand next to the pole, his back pressed to it, and grabs it above his head with one hand. He starts rolling his boy against it, moving slowly and almost gracefully in beautiful waves. Calum isn’t even aware of the fact that there are people asking him for drinks anymore, his eyes are focussed on the angelic boy on the stage.
He lets his body slide down against the pole until he’s squatting. He pushes his legs open, then closes them again before coming back up, his ass dragging against the stainless steel.
Calum never wanted to be a pole so bad in his life.
The boy turns around, hooking one of his legs around the pole and letting his body fall backwards. When he comes back he wraps his arms around the pole lightly, squatting down again with the pole between his legs and his lips dragging along it.
Calum feels Ashton’s presence next to him, and he doesn’t need to look to know the boy is grinning at him.
‘Who is that?’ Calum whispers, not taking his eyes off of the boy for one split second. The bass is dropping, and he is now standing with his back to the audience, swaying his hips from left to right so seductively it has Calum blushing.
‘You hear the sexy voice.’ Ashton answers. ‘Blondie.’
‘Dude, his name.’ Calum mumbles.
‘How would I know? This is the first time I’m seeing him too.’ Ashton shrugs. ‘Tell you what, I’m gonna go to the back in half an hour to see Michael. You’ll go find him then yeah?’
‘Yeah.’ Calum answers, barely listening anymore because the boy is now on his knees facing the audience, dropping his body lower than pushing himself back up as if he’s riding someone, his hands in his hair.
‘Pathetic.’ He hears Ashton mumble before walking away, going back to serving people. He could very well make a remark about Ashton being a hypocritical little shit, always banging on about Michael yet never doing something about it, but he’s consumed by the blonde too much to even care a little bit.
I can tell that money’s got you working…
The blonde is on his hands and knees now, slowly crawling to the frond of the stage almost animal-like, moving slowly and seductively, moving with the music. When he’s at the end of the catwalk he pushes himself up, sitting on only his knees.
His hands glide from his neck down to his chest, over his nipples, to his belly and resting on his thighs. When the guitar in the background of the music cries out he lets himself fall back until he’s folded in half, back resting on the ground and people pushing dollar bills into his shorts.
Calum is mesmerized, but before he knows it the blonde is leaving the stage. It’s like he’s snapping out of some kind of trance, looking over his shoulder and watching Ashton work his ass off to get everyone their drink in time.
‘Fuck.’ Calum mumbles. He heads back to Ashton and starts taking orders, hoping his semi isn’t showing through his pant as the next boy takes the stage.
-
Alex and Jack take over the bar after an hour. Calum is grumpy, but not as grumpy as Ashton. They were supposed to get off thirty minutes ago.
Calum follows him as he makes his way backstage, ignoring everyone asking him if he even belongs there. Calum quickly shows them his employee pass as Ashton marches on. It wouldn’t be the first time people called the bouncers because Ashton ignored their doubts.
There’s no red velvet or neon lights back here, only small hallways and boys walking around in a haste, walking towards or from the stage.
Ashton walks to the end of another half-lit hallway, opening a random door. Calum barely comes back here, but he figures Ashton does.
The door Ashton opens leads to a dressing room, where boys are sitting in front of big mirrors with small, bright lights around them. They’re the kind of vanities Calum recognises from that burlesque movie his sister made him watch once.
In the corner of the room, on a couch, he spots Michael. He’s sitting with the blonde boy, both clothed now with big duffel bags next to them on the floor. He looks good, a snapback backwards on his head and a jean jacket on, but Blondie looks better. He’s sitting crossed legged with his head on Michael’s shoulder, his eyes the brightest things in the room even though he looks bored and tired. He’s wearing black skinny jeans with holes on the knees, a black t-shirt and a small silver chain around his neck.
‘Seems like Gabriel likes them blond.’ Calum comments, bumping Ashton with his elbow. His friend laughs and shakes his head.
‘They’re just friends Cal. He’s all yours.’
Calum blushes, not realising how salty he sounded.
‘Fuck off.’ He growls.
When Michael spots Ashton and Calum in the doorway he grabs Blondie’s arm, pulls him up and grabs both their bags in his other hand. Where Calum is standing around a little awkwardly where Ashton already took a pose, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face which is returned by Michael. The tension is already suffocating Calum, and they aren’t even out of the club yet.