[May 2] There is no other way, I get the final say

[mitsubishievo]

It was different than working here like he had, different than having a really rented stage that he paid for regularly. He was only here for the night, and he felt a little fucking ridiculous. He'd bought some things before heading in--new shoes, tall heels and a slinky, tight dress that he could strip out of, and sluttier underthings, too, because everything he had was soft and cottony and sweet.

But now he's here, dressed and in these huge, tall heels that make his calves ache. It's sort of glorious and wonderful to hear the pulse of the bass and to be on this stage again. He's missed it a lot.

His chest ached a little bit from the new piercings. He sort of loved that, as the fabric of the slutty bra and dress rubbed against him. He was really looking forward to this. It was busy, and there were a lot of people, guys and girls, and they were looking at him, and he was really looking forward to all that attention, for just one night.

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[thebloodyglue]

Newt's sat where Kavinsky wanted him, a drink at his elbow. He's already half hard in his jeans, just with the anticipation of it. It's been a while since he's been here with Kavinsky and, honestly, he can't wait.

[mitsubishievo]

Newt was sat at one of the tables, in perfect line of sight for Kavinsky no matter where he went on the little stage. He looked at him the most, but he didn't linger on him particularly. That was half of the fun here. Teasing. He hadn't let Newt see the outfit before now, so there was that much more to this teasing.

[thebloodyglue]

Kavinsky looks ridiculously good in that tight dress, those high heels, so far away from the flippy cotton things that he favours at home when he's like this (and, sometimes, when he's not). Newt sits back in his chair, knees lolling wide and he watches and he waits.

[mitsubishievo]

For the moment, Kavinsky focused on a couple of guys that were waving cash at him, being a bit rude in whistling and calling at him. He didn't get too close, but he let them slip bills up and down his dress, tucking it into the strap of his bra, or the still hidden leg of his panties.

One of them slapped his ass and gave it a hard squeeze. Kavinsky laughed and danced away, glancing at Newt.

[thebloodyglue]

It definitely feels a way, watching other men put their hands on his husband like that, especially when Kavinsky is some much smaller and more delicate than he usually is. Still, he trusts Kavinsky to be able to look after himself and this? This is part of it, after all. The teasing.

[mitsubishievo]

It was a slow work around the stage, pausing to work the pole, and to strip out of the dress, and receive tips from hollering boys. By the time he'd made his way to Newt's spot again, he was in his slinky black thong and barely there bra, dollars poking out from the straps and legs of both.

He danced right up to the edge of the stage, sliding down to his knees and spreading them obscenely.

[thebloodyglue]

And this is for Newt, he knows, so he gives Kavinsky his full attention, his eyes floating down between Kavinsky's spread legs. He leans forward and slides a dollar against Kavinsky's inner thigh, tucking it into the front of his thong.

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky shivered but didn't stop dancing the way that he was, this slow grind and gyration, a suggestion or a promise, or both.

But there were other people around the stage, other tips to earn. Kavinsky winked at Newt and pulled away from him. He worked the pole instead, a skill he'd managed to keep despite his months away from the stage. The hollering pair of boys tossed a few more dollars onto the stage, whistling and making fools of themselves.

Kavinsky was having fun stripping them of their money.

[thebloodyglue]

He watches the undulations of Kavinsky's body, knowing exactly what he looks likes stripped of even those skimpy things. He's aching hard. He wants so much. But that's all of it.

[mitsubishievo]

The second circuit around the stage is quicker than the first. He kept on the underthings until he'd made it all the way around, in front of Newt. Then he slipped out of the bra. A moment later, it was the panties, with a filthy, tilting angle of his hips that would have invited a good view of his cunt in better light.

"Hey baby, why don't you come on over here and show us all that," one of the hollering boys said as the music wound down. Kavinsky snorted, eyes on Newt, eyebrow cocked.

[thebloodyglue]

It's a question, unmistakable, and Newt smiles. He raises one shoulder in a slightly shrug and then gives Kavinsky the slightest nod. Whatever he wants to do right now, it's fine. It's allowed.

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky gave Newt a wink, a promise that he would be back. But for right now, he went over to these two boys, who whistled and snapped their fingers and, when he came down from the stage, they tussled him close between them, sitting totally naked to get their ridiculous and handsy attention.

[thebloodyglue]

Newt sips his drink and watches, settled back in his chair, as Kavinsky settles down between the two boys, naked as the day he was born. They haven't set any boundaries here; Newt's interested to see what Kavinsky will and won't permit.

[mitsubishievo]

Whatever was going on over there, now the boys had mostly quieted down now that their attention was properly caught and cared for. Kavinsky was smiling, and careful with their hands, keeping them away from his new, tender piercings, and from creeping too high on his thighs. They hadn't worked out limits, but Kavinsky knew what he could get away with--with Newt, and at the club.

When one of the boys got bored with Kavinsky pushing his hand away from his cunt, Kavinsky excused himself before they could get rowdy about it. He had a couple of drinks sent over to them, and pulled his dress on with nothing underneath it while he passed by Newt's table. The dress barely covered past his crotch.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked.

[thebloodyglue]

"You know I am, shank," says Newt, his hand creeping up the back of Kavinsky's bare thigh. "What about you?"

[mitsubishievo]

The touch sent a shiver up him, electric heat all over his body. Kavinsky shifted, just a little, to put his hips closer to Newt, and he draped over his chair a little bit as well. "Can I get you anything? A drink or something? Hm?"

[thebloodyglue]

"How much for that private dance we talked about?" he asks, his fingers stroking against Kavinsky's thigh. "Here. Private room. I don't care. I want to see you up close like those shanks did."

[mitsubishievo]

"Yeah, we can get a private room," Kavinsky said with a lazy grin. "I'll even let you pull my dress up. Might even let you slip it in if you're extra nice in that private room." He winked. If he was honest, he was going to let Newt slip it in no matter what.

[thebloodyglue]

"You'll do what you're told and you know it," says Newt, with a little grin. He stands up, straightening his jacket. "And you still haven't told me how much it costs."

[mitsubishievo]

"Eighty," Kavinsky said, a mostly arbitrary number, because he couldn't remember how much private rooms were or if the amateurs were even supposed to use them and anyway all the money, at this point, was just circling around between the two of them anyway. He'd made enough to cover his stage fees and then some, so everything Newt gave him was just their money.

He rocks back on his heels a little bit and smooths his dress out, smiling blithely. "You sure you don't want a drink while you enjoy the show, sugar?"

[thebloodyglue]

"Eighty," says Newt, dismissively, like the figure is neither here nor there. And it isn't, really. It's their money, anyway. "Are you going to keep me entertained while I drink it?"

[mitsubishievo]

"Of course," Kavinsky said, and nodded firmly, because now they're all settled neatly into the idea of it. He gave Newt a wink and then led him over to the private show rooms. There, he gave Newt a brief kiss on the cheek. "I'll get you a drink and be right back, sugar. You make yourself comfy."

[thebloodyglue]

Newt settles on a sofa and waits, his eyes drifting closed as he listens to thump of the bass from the bar and waits for his husband to come back.

[mitsubishievo]

When Kavinsky returned, he carried a drink for Newt and a water for himself. Once he was in the little private room, he shut the thin door. There were slim windows on either side of the door that people could glance in on, mostly so bouncers could keep an eye on the dancers.

But for now, Kavinsky just focused on Newt. He passed over the drink and sipped his own water. Already, his hips were swaying slightly to the pulse of the bass from the bar outside their little booth.

"Did you want different music?" he asked. "I could go get my phone."

[thebloodyglue]

Newt shakes his head and takes a sip of his beer.

"Don't care about the music," he says. "I care about seeing you naked up close."

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky smiled, laughed sweetly, and started to sway to the beat heard from beyond the door. There wasn't much to take off, after all. Just the dress. But he could definitely dance, slowly show off one more stretch of skin, one more peek, of thigh or ass or tit.

And then, finally, he was naked. He pressed up close to Newt, without disturbing his beer, and rubbed right up against him.

[thebloodyglue]

Newt's hand ghosts down the arch of Kavinsky's spine as he presses close.

"Are you going to do what you're told?"

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky let himself be drawn in, as close as he could get with Newt's hand on his spine, and he smiled sweetly. It was easy to shift so he was straddling Newt's lap, knees to either side of his hip.

"Of course. You know I'm good at doing what I'm told."