Author's Note: BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!
EDIT: this story USED to be a oneshot before a few of my reviewers mentioned that it would appear a tad overwhelming due to the shrunken scroll bar to your right. or...left, if your internet works that way. then i realized that, crap, it was. so here is the FIRST CHAPTER, with the others to follow promptly. ;D all the following chapters were updated on the same day.
this short story was not created due to screwed syndrome. now, when i normally create a new story--one shot or not--while a couple of my ongoing ones are still...ongoing, it means i'm ultimately screwed. this i made for the sheer fun of it. i've ALWAYS wanted to type up a story relating to a promiscuous, "flaunt it, baby, flaunt it" axel and a "oh, shit. leave me alone" roxas. combined, i think it's rather dandy. makes a great candy bar.
i say it's a mix between skittles and sour patch kids. yes. that would be what akuroku tastes like. you so want that now, don't you?
well, know where you can find that...eye-candy? down there. in all its scandalous beauty. no need for a disclaimer because, seriously, does rated M not mean anything to you? EROTIC
this is dedicated to my lovely "pineylife", with whom i bounce ideas and mercilessly text questions to about whether or not i want a story to be a oneshot or not. i love you, darling. :)
enjoy, my darlings.
My Boyfriend: The Slut
Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear-fucking-brother-that-needs-to-learn-how-to-find-better-ways-to-spend-dollar-bills...
Happy birthday to you.
Yes. Roxas had been singing that song all day long. Ever since yesterday, he'd been preparing for the worst. Today, in fact, was meant to be a happy day. A day of remembrance and a day to have a family gathering around a blue birthday cake. A day to smile and make bunny ears behind mom's head while the camera snapped a photo. A day to whack a piñata around and hope that you got there in time before birthday boy got all the Sweet Tarts.
But, no. His older brother had turned the big 2-0. That's right. 20. While it wasn't the legal drinking age around Destati—not like anyone followed it—it was the legal age for drinking in something a little more...enjoyable.
And, being the younger brother, it was Roxas' duty to be dragged around to "bond". Sure, he'd said. Why not? Maybe they'd catch a film, head over to the skate park, maybe even head over to the beach for some bikini watching. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. His pig headed brother wanted his party to be unique.
So at exactly eight that night, the two brothers pretended to head out for a movie, jumped in the car and sped off with a couple more guys for a real night on the town.
Roxas sighed, thinking about how stupid he'd been to fall for this, and tapped the edge of his filled martini glass hopelessly. The olive inside bounced against the glass to the surrounding music that was blaring from the speakers.
He was seated on a dark chocolate colored suede chair in front of a cupcake shaped glass table. All around him—on the walls, on the floor, on the ceiling—were a variety of round lights that resembled sprinkles. From time to time they'd change colors. They were currently deep orange and filled the club with a drunk-feel.
Amongst all those lights were women. Lots and lots of women. Skinny ones, blonde ones, tall and short, Angelina Jolies and Jennifer Anistons pranced around the linoleum floors on their stick thin high heels. What's worse—a majority of them were half naked...and nearly half were men. How. Embarrassing. But Sora didn't seem to care. He and his best friends were huddled around a table across the club while a couple girls "entertained" them.
"Whoo! That's the stuff!"
"Some birthday, man!"
"Hey, sweetie, what's your number?"
Roxas rolled his eyes. Scarring. The Sugar Night Club. Who would've thought that this place would be so packed full of shit for something oh-so sweet? He leaned back into the brownie designed seat and tried to ignore the woman that was currently slinking her body along a couple of orange lights to his right.
"Lady, I'm 19..." he grumbled, turning his head away with his hand shielding his eyes. Sora had to pay the bouncer up front to let Roxas get in. Not like he wanted to.
"At least he gets me a drink. Maybe I'll pass out." With that said Roxas held up the martini and took a huge gulp from it before setting it back down on the cupcake table. It tingled and burned like hell in his chest, but it was surprisingly an addictive feeling. And he wasn't the legal drinking age. Guilt would hit soon, but drunkenness would take that all away.
"You look a little young t' be here."
The blonde blinked at the sound of a voice not too far away from him. Shit, he thought, it's the manager. He looked up from his glass to the left and nearly jumped back when his eyes fell upon one of the club dancers standing with arms crossed over HIS lanky chest. He almost choked and the dancer angled his head in concern.
"Alright there?" he asked, grinning.
Roxas nodded vigorously and shot his head away. "Fine, fine." Go away, go away, go away.
But the guy refused to back away. It wasn't like he could read minds anyway. Roxas had never seen a guy dressed like that before. He wasn't sure whether to label him as a potential cross dresser or not, let alone a 'he' or a 'she'. The guy looked like he was about in his early 20's and—minus the high boots he was wearing—he had to be at least a 6 footer, maybe more. Roxas cautiously shifted his eyes back to get a look at the corner of his eye.
Tight leather pants, no shirt, heeled and long leather boots, tight leather choker...he wasn't dreaming. This guy was actually wearing this! And the thing was that he actually looked very good wearing it. Roxas figured he had to be drunk otherwise he definitely wouldn't've thought about that. As he felt a blush tint his face, he coughed and stared at his feet.
"I swear...you guys keep gettin' younger and younger."
"Excuse me?" Roxas asked.
The redheaded dancer chuckled and took a couple of steps closer to Roxas' chair. His heels clicked against the linoleum loudly through the pounding music. "Ah, what's the matter? Didn't work out with you and your lover?"
"E—uhm—no—I'm just sorta—here."
The guy raised his chin in thought and slowly sat himself on the armrest of Roxas' seat. The sound of squeaky leather beside him made Roxas' body shiver. This was too close for comfort. He hesitantly turned his head to stare at the long and slick leather legs that were centimeters away from touching him.
"Ah. You mus' be with that group over there, huh?" At that, Roxas glanced over to where the guy had thrust his thumb—at Sora and the other's table. He noticed that they were now pulling out their wallets and shoving dollars on the table. He rolled his eyes again.
"Yeah." He wasn't in the mood to get chatty with an ever-so-gorgeous male stripper. But the redhead wasn't about to give up. His venom green eyes gazed down at the kid and, in truth, he felt a little sorry for him.
"Heard it was his birthday. Looks like you were the forced one in the group. News floats around here pretty fast, ya know?"
Roxas scoffed. "Don't come here, so why would I know?"
The dancer's smile twisted into a devilish one. He got up from the chair and strolled over to the other that was set at Roxas' right. Once there he sat himself down and succeeded in having the blonde staring right at him. Oh, he was blushing. That's cute. He leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand while staring eye to eye with him.
"Don't you just hate it when people force you into doing things you don't wanna do?" the dancer asked rather harmlessly.
"Uhm. Yeah. Sure. Bugs me a lot."
"Don't I know it. You know, I didn't even wanna work in this lame excuse for a strip club."
Roxas' eyes rose in shock. He suddenly forgot that he'd been sitting in a disgusting place as he stared into the newly vacant eyes of the dancer. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen any of these dancers appear not lonely. They were all...just pretending to be happy, he guessed.
"Then why are you here?"
The redhead blinked slowly and leaned back lazily into the suede cushions. Roxas' eyes gazed over the tanned and toned chest of the man then down to the extremely tight pants over his long legs. Wasn't he flat out embarrassed to be here wearing that?
"Tryin' t' earn some cash for back home. Gonna try and get my bro into college. Give him another week and he just might be livin' in a fucking cardboard box. Hah, they all think I'm workin' the night shift at the Burger King across the street. Pft. Please. Me? Flippin' a buncha patties?"
Judging by the dancer's amazingly thin waist, it wasn't that hard to believe that he didn't work at a greasy fast food joint. "So you choose to strip instead?" Roxas pointed out with a raised eyebrow.
"Well," the guy thought about it a second before adding, "yeah. It's...sorta fun. You get nearly 200 bucks on a good night. And it keeps me in shape, ya know." As he said that, he crossed his legs with a tired groan and began tiptoeing two fingers along the armrest. Roxas prayed that wasn't a sign of flirting...he wasn't sure if he should ask or not.
Without a quick reply to give, Roxas slowly lifted the martini glass to his lips, hoping that it'd help moisten them up a bit. But even as he tried to ignore his surroundings, his body kept tingling. He could literally feel those two green eyes still watching his every move. With a roll of his eyes, the blonde nearly slammed the glass back down on the table as he stood from the chair. The sprinkle lights on the walls switched to a mix of blue and dark purple. He could still sense that he was being stared at.
"I'd better check on them," he said as he thrust his hands into his pockets. Though the club had grown dramatically dark, the occasional flashing lights allowed him to see sweat now glistening on the dancer's chest. He swallowed...hard. "Really, I gotta go..."
"Come on. You know those guys're way too busy. Where'll you head off to? Momma's house?"
Roxas suddenly stopped his attempt to back away nice and smoothly. "What? N-no!
The dancer began chuckling. Honestly, it was a flat out gorgeous, seductive laugh. His shoulder's tensed only a bit when he'd noticed that the man had stood up and was literally prowling after him in the dark. He listened to the clicking and tapping of those high heels drawing closer and closer to him. Pretty soon sweat had started beading his forehead with the thought of being cornered. It was all very stressful.
"Uhm, hey. Listen, I—" Roxas' voice cut off in midsentence. What perfect timing for the music to change. What perfect timing for him to choke up and for Mr. Sexy to suddenly decide that he rather enjoyed the new song. Roxas' poor guiltless eyes drifted lower for merely a second to see that the dancer's hips had begun to sway the teensiest bit. Watching him move in time to the pulse in the music was dizzying.
"Just a little fun? I swear, you're not gonna be disappointed..." His voice paused for a second. Roxas felt a few slender fingers curl flirtatiously on his shoulder. "Sorry. Never did get your name."
"Why would we need to be on a first name basis?"
A playful smirk tugged at the redhead's soft lips. "So I know what name to scream later."
"O-Ok! Well! That's enough of that!" Instantly, Roxas' heart fluttered and his body geared into panic mode. Sex was NOT on his agenda for the day. It was Sora's damn fault for altering his schedule. All his senses sparked to the highest level as he looked up from those hips and directly into the man's narrowed eyes. "Sorry, but...I don't belong here."
For a while, Roxas was sure that he'd said enough and toyed enough to make that stripper leave. He nearly backed away and headed for the door before he heard yet another swift chuckle. Sora, save me, he whined.
"Well, lemme tell you that neither do I."
"You're not making any sense." Roxas had already spun around on his heel toward where the bouncer was holding the door open. Trying to reason was frustrating.
"That's another thing 'bout you young boys. None of you—not one—take people in this joint seriously. Never stop for simple chatting either, hm?" The redhead crossed his lanky arms over his bare chest and sighed as he stared off to the right. His eyebrows lowered, giving him a somewhat naïve expression. Roxas didn't turn around, but somehow was forced to stop to listen.
"And here I was, thinkin' that I earned myself a one way ticket to relaxation for the night. Don't get to do that a lot considering that I'm the only reason this club's runnin' correctly."
"Oh, really...?" Roxas sighed sarcastically.
"Yes, really." From behind him, Roxas heard the man scoff and then sigh a in a way that made him seem to be begging for attention. "But, what's the point in conversing?"
At that point, Roxas felt something strange tug at his heart strings. Guilt. Suffer, suffer, suffer, they yelled at him. Apologize. Fucking apologize! Do something. With those orders fluttering about, he rolled his eyes harshly before abruptly spinning around and, to his and the dancer's surprise, grabbing the other's arm in the dark.
"Hey, listen," he began. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I'm just...pissed. So pissed." The man's arm suddenly felt limp in his grasp. Wait...he'd been grasping?
A chuckle echoed through the club and sent Roxas through another phase of euphoria. The lights flickered. Once, twice, three times and over and over and over again. Blue, yellow, orange, red, orange, blue yellow...red. It was like getting high and hallucinating happily; like falling without hitting the ground; like spinning without tripping; like passing out without regret.
He must've been drunk...if he wasn't, then why was it that he couldn't remember how he'd managed to pick up his swaying feet and sit down in a room that cancelled out all outside disturbances?
How was it that...
It suddenly occurred to poor little Roxas that he'd been interacting with, well, a slut. And while it may have felt totally hurtful to refer to the erotic dancer as one, somehow he knew deep in his little heart that it was damn true. Therefore, he had no reason to feel bad. However, he did have slight reason to feel horrible for becoming blank at the worst moment.
Now—sitting in this round, airtight room—he was oblivious as to how in the hell he'd gotten there.
The minute the noise from outside substantially lessened, Roxas began gaping at his new surroundings. Hm...a wrap around red and leather couch, red lighting, rounded walls that're bound to cause claustrophobia...and a pole. A tall, shiny, spankin' brand new pole standing erect atop a round pedestal. He wished that he hadn't described it as erect.
"Can I ask you something point blankly?"
"You a virgin?"
"It's ok. I'm not gonna be offended with whatever you answer. You can trust me in makin' sure that whatever you say will be locked behind bulletproof doors." The redhead turned back around after shutting, and locking, the foggy glass door behind him to meet with his flustered blonde captive positively gawking at the pole in between them. His eyebrows rose and with one arm akimbo he let his other reach out and hang on to the silver rod.
Roxas cleared his throat and stared down at his lap. Damn him for blocking his only getaway. "I really don't think that's any of your business."
"Ah. Denial. You're a tough one."
"But it really isn't your business."
"Just wanted t' know for reference...but ah well."
The dancer shrugged and with one large step propped himself atop the pedestal with both arms wrapped tightly around the pole. While Roxas wanted to believe that he had no idea what in the hell was going on, he figured that it was sort of impractical to attempt doing so. It was a bit hard to ignore a nearly naked dancer clinging on to a pole in such a tight space.
"Well, anyway, I really am the sole reason why this joint hasn't crumbled. Believe it or not, I originally came here lookin' for work as a bartender. Next thing you know they've filed all the paperwork out for me and I'm signed up for work the next night as an erotic dancer. Dunno why. I say that the boss just liked my body."
"Yeah. But don't make me talk about Xiggy too much. He's a bitch if I ever saw one..."
"Short for Xigbar. I told you not t' make me talk about 'im." He spun around the pole slowly once, being sure to barely make his skin touch the cold metal. When he'd looked back, Roxas' eyes had increased to the size of melons. Ha-ha-ha.
"Well, I came for work and the night went pretty well...you'd be surprised how many men actually showed up for me. Next thing you know, I'm performin' for women and men. That's why we've grown so popular. More customers means a helluva lot more cash."
"I know, right? If I keep this job up for another month or two, I should be set to go." Sexy took another spin around the pole but this time slowly made it around and let a leg wrap around it. Roxas was afraid that the sound of squeaky leather would either A) break his ear drums or B) force him to relieve himself of an agonizing erection.
And he prayed for neither.
With eyes squinted Roxas looked up briskly from his lap and faked a smile up at his supposed buddy. "Always great to hear a story. And if you're done with it, I'd better—"
Ever fiber of Roxas' being shivered...then froze...and once again shivered to the sound of that guy's voice saying, no, moaning his name in the intense heat from the red light overhead. God, he felt like he'd been in one of those damn reptile habitats. In a sense that made him the defenseless mouse up against a snake.
No, no, no. Fuck no! Roxas shook his head furiously. Lalala. Not listening.
"Oh, look at me. Please look at me, Roxas..."
Ah, ah, ah. Self composure. Self defense. Self control. Nails were already digging into the leather sofa.
"You know you wanna look."
No, no...YES. Yes Roxas want to look. Roxas want to look badly.
He hadn't looked straightaway, but in the corner of his eyes he could see the dancer's extremely long legs—both squeezing the pole—and his sweaty, baby soft skin rubbing ever-so-slightly against the metal. His totally relaxed face was staring down at him while his cheeks lightly brushed the pole. And it hadn't taken long at all for him to fiercely press his chest on the pole and groan in utter desire:
If only I were that pole, Roxas thought.
The show commenced, filled with more moaning and groaning, humping and jumping, twirling, rubbing, hissing...and, sadly, self control, which at the moment was dwindling down to an infinitesimal speck in Roxas' mind. Whenever the guy uttered Roxas' name, his eyes would roll to the back of his head and his lips would quiver in anticipation. And all that time, Roxas sat there—listening and watching his fingers anxiously drum on the edge of the seat, determined to reach out and...and—
"Ok, wait, h-hold on," Roxas interrupted, holding up his hand and resisting the urge to reach further. The dancer paused just as he was about to dip, and smirked.
"A-Alright. I know you want something and I'm sacrificing more than 100 hours of work to give it to you."
The redhead straightened up and casually leaned an arm on the pole. "Oh, really? And what's that?" He gave Roxas the second he needed to clumsily fumble through his pockets and retrieve what appeared to be a bundle of dollar bills held together by a measly rubber band. His thin eyebrow rose in shock when Roxas broke the band, flipped through the bills and yanked out two of them to hand to him. If he had so much money, why not buy a wallet?
Hesitantly, he moved a hand toward the two bills before taking them and stupidly realizing that he'd just been given 200 bucks. Seeing as the night was going pretty slow for him, and that he'd milked only a 20 from some jerkoffs, this was utterly magnificent...and it was coming from a virgin, no doubt.
"You're too generous, Roxas." He smiled wryly but Roxas hadn't returned with a 'you're welcome'. He suddenly noticed another unknown bill in between Roxas' fingers.
"I'll give you one more if you promise a couple of things."
"I barely know you, kid...but if that's what I think it is, why not take my chances? Whadayawant?"
Pleased with his demands working so effectively, Roxas quickly wiped his dripping face with the back of his hand, slowed his adrenaline rush to the best of his ability and with the bribe in his possession stared the dancer straight in the eye.
"First, you need to promise me that when you get this money, you'll quit working at this dump and quit degrading yourself so you can go find something real to do."
"Ah." The dancer crossed his arms.
"I want you to let me leave this room and this club without stopping me for another one of your sessions."
"And...gimme a name."
Roxas sighed and fanned the money in his face. It really was very hot. And it was getting extremely frustrating to be referring to this guy as 'Sexy' or 'you' or 'him' or 'slut' all the time. And so, with his demands stated, all that was left to do was wait until they'd struck an accord. After another moment watching the dancer's lips pull into a smirk, Roxas was happy to hear what he wanted after a simple nod and a scoff.
"You hand me the money, and if it's enough t' satisfy me, I'll get my ass outta this door by the end of th' week. And I'll let ya go under the one condition that you add a 10 on top of my pay. Axel."
Roxas' eyes rose. "Axel."
Axel nodded slowly and did a cutesy jump away from the pole before standing before Roxas with an open palm. "Hand it over, Roxas."
The blonde sighed roughly, rolled his eyes, and after pulling out a ten dollar bill, slapped both of the bills into the other's waiting hand. And that had been the closest thing to "touching" he'd gotten before Axel agreed to unlocking the door and letting him run free as they had discussed.
When he'd stared down at his open palm, he counted 100—plus the 10 and the 200 made 310 bucks.
Axel smirked and, upon leaving the room, tapped his passing boss on the shoulder, whispered something into his ear, received a confused glower and finally model-walked happily to the bar to pick up his clothes.
It had been a good night. A very good night.
Born That Way
Alright, so Axel had lied. No, he didn't leave the club by the end of the week. In fact, it took nearly three weeks before he decided that business was boring. He'd already run out of new tricks to show off at the pole, on stage, in the private booths...boring. Yeah, he'd told old Xiggy that he'd quit the second that blonde kid handed him nearly three nights pay, and it pissed the old man more than ever that he hadn't disappeared the night after.
But soon he'd packed up and hit the road, laughing to himself.
He didn't have a brother.
Slyly, he pulled out his wallet—now stuffed with cash—and pulled out the pay he'd received that night. Add the 310 he'd gotten from Blondie to the 50 from Blondie's bro, the 20 from his silver haired buddy and 30 from the Mohawk bartender, it all added up to a generous 410 bucks.
"Hey, pay you 50 bucks to go over to my brother over there and keep 'im company."
"I'll give ya 20 to take 'im into one of the private rooms. Oh, and tease about his virginity. Dude, I'm gonna laugh so hard!"
"Axel, I'll give ya 30 when you and I meet up later, yeah?"
Oh, yes. He was a slut.
Roxas never returned to that club. He'd passed by it, and always wondered if that dude had taken his advice. Maybe he'd been too quick to throw so much money at him. But what other choice did he have? He had to leave.
It'd been oh-so interesting meeting and paying his first erotic dancer. But life had to move along.
Next year he'd take Sora to the arcade to play with G rated toys.
Axel started wondering—as he flipped through the clothes rack and his eyes fell on a pair of torn jeans—if Blondie really had beena virgin. And if he was, had he already lost his virginity over the course of these three weeks?
Being in such a profession gave Axel a third eye; one that could differentiate the experienced from the ones that hadn't seen or heard of a dildo in their life. Therefore, they were didoes. He chuckled and set the jeans back on the rack before stumbling out of the high class store.
Nah. He'd never open up. That boy—he was too much of an amateur. Too poofy to even try.
It was 4 AM one morning on the fourth week. Roxas had been coming back from an exhausting graveyard shift and was forced to take the long way home—seeing as the buses no longer ran that early in the morning—when lo and behold he noticed that wooden planks had been nailed over the Sugar Night Club's frosted entrance. There was a sign nailed to the boards, and in big, bold and red letters, it read:
"OUT OF BUSINESS"
He shook his head and scoffed before crossing to the opposite sidewalk.
Are You Serious?
"What th' hell do they mean 'out of business'? Pft. I knew that I was the only thing keeping this up." Axel slapped the blocked entrance of the club after spotting it at 6 AM that morning on his way to the coffee shop. He was hoping he'd get the chance to meet up with the club bartender again for some chit chat.
Now he didn't know where all his fellow eroticas had gone. Feeling strangely abandoned, he kicked the door forcefully, nearly breaking his toe, and limped off down the sidewalk while cursing to himself. How often did a business close in a months-time? Maybe a strip club just wasn't a great scene for the kids that hung out around this side of town. Pft.
He had 400 bucks left from what he'd earned that night. He'd spent ten on the bus ride down there.
Roxas' plan had worked out rather nicely. The town was now planning on breaking down that old club and building some food place over it. Smiling as he passed, he hoped that it would be Italian. Destati didn't have near enough places like it. But his smile didn't last long. Upon seeing a discarded 20 dollar bill sitting in a puddle at his feet, he was forced to remember a familiar face possibly wandering around with zero dollars and no where to go.
Where was that one guy now?
As he constantly told himself about his brother: people honestly have to find better ways to spend their dollar bills. Not only that, but take care of them. As mommy says: money DOES NOT grow on trees.
He picked up the 20 and folded it neatly before tucking it away up his sleeve.
The Joys Of Being A Celebrity
Axel had to eat something. So over that week he'd spent at least 50 bucks on food. He paid the nice lady at the register for his soda and slumped in the back of the fast food joint, suffering the loss of fizz in the drink. He'd seen her at the club once, giving him money for his dancing skills.
So this was where she earned her money? A damn burger joint?
"You look familiar," she'd said.
He set the cup down and stared out the window. Wouldn't it be nice to be recognized again? Maybe he hated Roxas for pulling him out of that place. Why didn't he realize that 400 something bucks couldn't possibly last longer than a month?
He had 350 left. Then he rechecked.
Never mind. He'd lost 20 somewhere. That made 330.
well, that was chapter one. i'm quickly butchering up this oneshot and separating it in to, well, chapters. thank you to the people that reviewed earlier for the feedback. some didn't mind while others made it clear that "long oneshot is LONG." Dx so, for you new readers, care to input your own feedback?
i'm trying something a little different with this story, not only by including, uhm, strippers, but also by adding mini "chapters" with their own spiffy titles. x3 i figured that just adding my usual breaker: "xxXXxx" would appear messy and GWAH. ALSO! i placed the characters in a random town called "Destati", which i know some writers have ALREADY USED in their own pieces, BUT that's not too bad, is it? of course it isn't. i sort of picture Destati to be a desolate town that's like the dark side of Twilight Town. NO. NOT Traverse Town! a bit more...urban than that. xO i couldn't keep calling the damn place "the town" as i wrote the story!! so Destati it was.
now! hmhmhm. i really enjoyed writing this whole thing out. so, without further nonsense, please give me some feedback! ...and to the next chapter with ya--ALL OF YA. xD
geez. axel's making me feel POOR,