DEF: Don't even ask how this came to be. All I can say is, I love Black Ice too much, I love the song, Dark in my Imagination too much, and I love the song the A-Team too much.

Blyss: Not even going to make excuses for her, inspired by all songs mentioned, though we don't own them or the characters featured in this story, and by a great friend who really needs to read more yaoi. Clubs are going to be mentioned a lot, sex, drugs, homosexual going ons, possibly rape or non-con, age gaps of ten years or more so continue at own risk.

The music is loud, too loud for conversation but that's not what anyone is here for anyway, they're here for a good time, a good fuck and maybe to get high off something illegal. There are couples having clothed sex on the dance floor, there are others fucking in plain sight in the booths, there are almost naked dancers on elevated most the pounding music and pulsing lights are enticing, intoxicating even, and most enjoy getting as high as they possibly can but to one, this is all just vulgar.

The press of the bodies is just too much for them and all they want to do is run off and hide in a back room until the world stops spinning. Oh, I know what you're thinking; why not just leave if you hate it so much? Simple, he can't, he needs the money he gets here. He needs it so bad it makes him physically sick to think about it but no, everyone does what they need to, he's no exception.

"~There's something in the look you give~"

"Glad you finally make it Koz, been a while since you had a little fun," the red head across from him laughs, he returned her grin with a wary smile. It wasn't that she was wrong exactly, hell, Autumne Falles was nearly always right, that was what bothered most people. She had a strangely unpleasant way of telling you the more unpalatable truths about yourself, you could get as mad as you liked at her but it wouldn't change the facts. If anything, you were just confirming suspicions by getting defensive over it.

"Well, it wasn't as though I had a choice in the matter, you did threaten to steal all the furniture in my apartment if I didn't come," he reminded her dryly over his glass of gin. She put a finger to her chin as though trying to recollect, lips pursed but it was hard to miss the mischief in those wine coloured depths. How the hell had he gotten involved with this devil again?

"You can afford to buy it all back," she answered finally, entirely unconcerned by the fact he could have her fined for even thinking about stealing from him. He rolled his eyes at her wondering just how he'd ever gotten mixed up with this imp while she just grinned before downing her scotch.

"Now, get your pretty little arse in gear Kozmotis Pitchiner, tonight you're going to have fun even if it kills us both," she promised dragging him to his feet. Never mind that she was an entire foot shorter than him, she was as charismatic as she was manipulative, as pretty as an Autumn leaf and deadly as All Souls' night. Besides, he was powerless to deny those big wine coloured eyes.

Truth be told, he needed something to get his mind off his failed marriage and the biweekly screaming contests that had become communication with his wife. The sad thing about it all? She didn't give a diseased rat's ass that he preferred men to women, even before their rushed marriage, they'd both known, but his father hadn't. Though he highly doubted his father would've cared about his sexual preferences, after all, the man hadn't cared about the intense, mutual dislike between himself and Vivian Summers.

The woman was too blonde, too bubbly and too much of a whore for his tastes. She liked to live up to her maiden name a little too much for him to handle most of the time, why did people think it took more than two years for their first, and only, child to be born?

Ugh, but what was he doing? Autumne had gone to all the trouble of clearing his schedule for the weekend, despite the board argument over a new movie, so that they could have a good time together. The least he could do was forget about his estranged wife and just enjoy himself, and if that meant keeping an eye on the dancers and the obvious whores, then so be it. There were many different ways to have fun after all.

Dark azure eyes peeked through the black curtains that hid the dancers, dancers being himself, one other man and a woman. There were people all but having sex on the edge of the crowd and the closer you got the centre, the closer bodies were pressed until there was absolutely no space between people. Moans of pleasure echoed across to the stage, it was almost as though all those people were a part of one giant orgy without realising it.

He hated it, hated it so fucking much it wasn't even funny, but he had to do this, for Pippa. Seasons of the Moon was one of the highest paying clubs in the city, he had been lucky to even get a job here, he wasn't allowed to complain. Still, he hated having to put on those clothes and bleach his hair and act 'just so' to please those disgusting people.

It was all so fucking unfair! He'd been a good kid, maybe he hadn't always listened to mother but he hadn't been bad. He had always helped around the house without being asked, he'd taken care of Pippa as an older brother should, never broken curfew, never even failed a test. So what had happened? Why did God choose him as the butt of some cosmic joke?

"Hey Jack, the crowd looks great," the woman tittered, he slapped on a smile faster than you could say 'Purple Penguin' and turned to face her. Thiana Flores was a blaze of colours, large violet contacts that set off the green and yellow eye shadow she wore, peacock blues and greens decorated her slim figure, while golden bands hugged her delicate wrists, arms, shins, thighs and waist. Her costume was literally just two pieces of cloth, an emerald green and sapphire blue tube top and matching skirt complete with hanging golden disks. She couldn't move two steps without jangling like sleigh bells. Her slight tan just added to the appearance of her being exotic dancer, oh how bloody ironic.

Next to her stood, E. Aster Bunnymund, how the hell the man had ended up with a name like that, no one with a working mind could fathom, still, it made a wonderful distraction. A distraction from that fact Aster was hotter than anyone had any freaking right to be that is. Seriously, the man was six feet and an inch of hotness, and for once Jack didn't mind the heat. Aster looked particularly good tonight, shirtless with only a pair of brown leather pants slung low on his hips.

The effect their boss had been going for had been cowboy but Aster's tattoos just didn't allow for that, not to mention his accent. Instead, he looked vaguely Native American, especially with the tattoos, add the leather arm bands and brown gauntlets and you got one delicious tribal warrior. Not the wanted effect but just as good, or at least the boss thought so.

Both had had their backs to him so it was a bit disorienting when Aster spun around quickly and he found himself staring into surprisingly green eyes, really, people with his complexion didn't tend to have green eyes, then again, people with his complexion didn't tend to have dark brown hair, maybe bronze or honey but not brown. Oh well, he wasn't complaining about it, no matter how much he wanted to, as he'd said before, he wasn't allowed to.

"The crowd does look particularly good tonight." The voice was so unfamiliar and so close behind him that he literally jumped a foot in the air, well maybe not literally but high enough that it hurt when he landed. One hand clutching his chest where his heart was just about ready to gallop out of it, he turned to face the voice and blinked twice, hard.

Gold. Golden hair, golden eyes, perfect golden tan, reflective golden clothes, if he didn't know better, he would have thought the man had replaced all of his teeth with gold as well but no, that was just Sandy. Once, he'd thought about the texture of gold, so smooth, a bit cold to the touch but it undoubtedly warms up after a while, Sandy exactly.

"Damn Sandy, try to make a sound next time," he laughed, scratching the back of his head self consciously, there was always something strangely unsettling about the golden man, maybe it was the way he nearly never made a sound or was it the way he seemed to look right through to your soul. It was hard to lie to Sandy, always had been, always would be.

"You need to loosen up Jack, you're much too stiff when you're on stage and I'm not the only one who notices," Sandy warned gently, he flashed another grin but it wavered before dropping off completely. He knew the only reason he even had the job was because of Nick and Sandy, but even they couldn't keep him this job if he didn't step up his game.

"I know, I'll try to do better, promise," he muttered, a brief flash of the one bedroom apartment he and Pippa shared appeared, not for the first time that night. Every time, every single time he thought about quitting, about possibly finding another job, or dropping this one, he remembered the apartment.

A crappy little hole in the wall with only one real bedroom that was really just a sectioned off part of the living room, a bathroom and kitchen, nothing else. They barely made ends meet as it was with him working two jobs, Pippa was not allowed to work until she was in college and maybe not even then, not if he could help it. Damn would he try to make sure she never had to, he knew all too well of the sick fucks out there that would try to take advantage of her. A young girl just out of high school was an easy target for drug pushers and perverts, young boys too but then he didn't like to think about that too much.

"That's all anyone can ask of you," Sandy replied nodding sagely but the implied sophistication was promptly ruined by the shit eating grin pasted onto his face. The golden man of little words always had something devious in the works and Jack couldn't help the groan that slipped past his lips as he was presented with the last accessory to his outfit. Because truth be told, he fucking hated this job but it paid the bills.

He grinned lecherously at a freckled brunet just beneath the balcony of the VIP section but scowled when he realised there was a blonde haired bimbo in tow. Shame, the brunet seemed just his type, a bit timid, a little awkward and cute in nerdy way, then again, he was so drunk he wasn't even sure he still had a type.

The dancers were superb, he had enough sense left to him to realise that at least, the oriental woman dressed in the colour of a peacock was obviously the main dancer. The way she strutted up and down the stage, flinging her hips and creating an irritating jangling noise whenever so much as shifted weight from one leg to the other annoyed him to no ends though. To besides, she seemed just not his type, she reminded him of Vivian, more than enough reason to leave well alone.

There were two male dancers, one was wearing a pair of decorative rabbit's ears, there was even a blue-gray cotton tail sewn into the back of his pants. The tanned skin gleamed under the club lights, sweat highlighting the vaguely tribal tattoos that decorated the expanse of bare skin at various intervals. Again, the man wasn't his type, other than being too muscly for his tastes, the other seemed to be the dominant sort. Not a chance in hell he was going for a dominant little bastard, sure he wanted some spunk but outright defiance he would not permit.

Hmm, turns out he did still have taste, how odd.

Green gold orbs surveyed the rest of the crowd disinterestedly, more writhing bodies, oh sure they were rather beautiful writing bodies but none of them seemed to hold his interest. Sighing softly to himself, he turned his attention back to Autumne, who, at some point, had run into a curvaceous blonde and both were now joined at the lips.

He was happy for her, really he was, the only reason they had even met was because they shared a lawyer. He had been divorcing his wife while she had been just about to file a restraining order on her ex-husband. It was a match made in a waiting room, maybe if he'd found Autumne first, he would've married her instead of Vivian, still it was all in the past.

~There's something in the look you give~

He gazed out among the sea of people once more as another song started up, the first had been something loud and brash, the male dancer with the rabbit's tail sewn into the seat of his pants had taken the lead on that one. The song had been talking about angry sex, he was sure of that, and from the way the man danced, it was obvious he was a hell cat in bed.

Another had talked about something called Candyland? Really it was just more fucking; it had obviously been the woman's signature song. The flowing moves, the way her hips jerked almost as though she was having sex with some invisible partner repulsed him slightly. However, this new song was more his taste, the woman's voice was hypnotic and the beat of the song was enticing, the other dancer, another male came to the forefront this time.

Immediately his attention was caught and wouldn't leave the second male dancer started his routine, golden orbs clung to the pale body and its scant clothing. A dark blue vest with a creeping white design was the only shirt the man had giving an excellent view of his subtly toned body. Quite unlike the first man, this dancer was not in possession of a six pack nor abs as far as he could see, though he did have a deliciously flat stomach that he just wanted to lick.

As for pants, a pair of brown slacks hung so low it wasn't hard to make out the v-line made by rather prominent hip bones. The slacks ended a few inches below the knee and the bottoms were held closed by ties wrapped around from the ending of the pants to the knee itself, he wondered if they were more of a hindrance than a help.

However, the icing on top had to be the shepherd's crook that lay ever so casually across one shoulder, a slim fingered hand resting on the wood just so to imply complacency yet there was nothing of the sort in that smirk. A quick spin and the crook is held in the bed of an elbow as the man hooks a knee around one of the poles rising from the stage floor to spin slowly, almost as though he's humping the metal. There's something wild about the male, something he can't help but want, even from this distance.

Somehow both elbows are resting on the slim bar of the balcony that overlooks the club proper from the VIP section and his chin is resting atop one of his hands. Really, he's all but mooning over the dancer, the dancer whose name he doesn't know and would probably never meet again, or at least, under normal circumstances. Still, it's nice to fantasize about things, anything really, and if that particular something just so happens to be humping a pole with an entirely too happy smirk on its face, then so be it.

DEF: Ah yes, Jack's a stripper working to support his sister and himself while Pitch is a rich bastard. A match made in Heaven, or at least in my head, and according to Tasha, in Hell. Oh well, wherever the match was made, it's not going to be smooth sailing for our lovely Black Ice couple, oh no, not from Robi the Angst Queen.

Blyss: This girl, I swear. The songs referred to are Beat it Upright by KoRn for Bunny, Candyland by BOTDF for Tooth and Dark in my Imagination by Of Verona for Jack. Now since you read it, drop a review with what you thought of it.