Rated NC-17 m/m sexual situations and bad language
Disclaimer: But... but... they feel like they're mine. Doesn't that count?
The air reeked of cheap beer and cigarette smoke. The dim lighting revealed a sparsely populated room. Third Saturday in a row. Curious.
Mulder moved amongst the tables and dropped down into a chair next to the man who'd befriended him since he started coming to this place five months ago.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Dead again."
"Yup." The man turned to him. "And it's about to have two less patrons."
"What d'you mean?"
"I found out why business is dropping off."
"Yeah?"
"Uh huh." The man leaned forward, not wanting any of the remaining regulars to hear. "The place across town has a new feature dancer. Word is he's worth the thirty buck cover charge and then some."
"Thirty?"
"Yeah. I hear that he doesn't fake anything, if you know what I mean. Come, man. Let's go see what all the buzz is about."
"I don't know, Ray."
"Come on! I waited here purposely for you. You gotta go with me. He only dances on Saturday night." The man rose from his chair, coaxing his companion to do the same.
Mulder sighed. "All right, all right. Let's go see what's so special about this guy."
His friend gave him the address, and they left in separate vehicles.
Mulder drove in silence to the club, as usual, preferring his own depressing thoughts to the sound of the radio...
It had been eight months since the fall of the Consortium. Many of those involved disappeared without a trace; some were found dead under the most suspicious of circumstances...one showed up at his apartment three nights later.
Mulder let him in, not knowing what else to do.
He said he'd come to say goodbye and congratulate Mulder on his well-earned victory. How they ended up naked, with Mulder trying to fuck him through the living room wall, was beyond either of them. Not long after, he pulled the still-recovering Mulder into the bedroom, threw him down onto the bed, and proceeded to give him the ride of his life.
Sometime in the very early morning, when sheer exhaustion finally forced them to stop, the two men dropped onto their backs, side by side, covered in sweat, chests heaving.
Several minutes passed before the companionable silence turned uncomfortable.
The other rose unsteadily to his feet and began to get dressed. Mulder asked him where he was going.
"Places to go, a life to find," was the soft answer.
Mulder lay quietly, watching him dress, searching for something to say, but ultimately remained silent.
He hesitated briefly, said a soft goodbye, then slipped out of the room, and the apartment.
Eight months later, Mulder hadn't laid eyes on him, hadn't spoken to him...wasn't even sure he was still in the country...or still alive, for that matter. And the wondering drove him crazy.
The memory of that night stayed vividly clear in Mulder's mind. The smell of him. The taste of his skin...the feel of him so deep inside haunted him night after night. But he'd left, making it clear that his desires went no further than those few hours.
And now Mulder was left to deal with the aftermath. No help. No comfort. Certainly no explanation. Not even work offered him any solace. After the dissolution of the Consortium, there was nothing left but the usual assortment of mutants, apparitions, and UFO sightings. Where things such as these had held a tremendous amount of interest for him at one time, they were simply just another case for him now.
He began to seek extracurricular distraction, frequenting gay bars and strip clubs, always in search of that something he seemed to be missing, but never quite finding it. He settled on one club, The Blue Moon, and was soon befriended by Ray...the man who was now dragging him clear across the city to see the new feature dancer that everybody and his grandfather was talking about. And the thing that killed him was...he was going.
Jesus Christ, is your life so pathetic?
He turned into the full parking lot.
Well... no open spots. Just go home.
He drove out of the lot and around the corner. There, on the street, was a space large enough for him to back into.
Ah, fuck. I guess your life is that pathetic.
He parked the car and walked up to the club. Ray waved at him from the doorway.
"Jesus, when I saw you drive out of the parking lot, I thought you'd changed your mind."
"I almost did."
"But?"
Mulder shrugged. "I figured, what the hell? I drove all this way, I might as well go in and have a drink, at least."
Ray grinned and stepped aside, allowing him to enter first.
The place was nice. Much nicer than The Blue Moon. Bigger. More seating, but as the place was standing room only, it didn't much matter.
The two men moved to a spot by the bar, ordered their drinks, and looked around. They recognized a good number of faces from their regular haunt, but many more were strangers to them. Mulder attracted a good deal of attention but ignored the stares and attempts at conversation.
The buzz in the room grew to a deafening pitch as the clock approached ten. The excitement took on an almost physical quality, and then as the stage fell into darkness, the noise stopped. A soft voice, speaking just a bit above the sensuous thrum of the music, announced the evening's featured dancer.
"What did he say the guy's name was, Ray?"
Mulder's companion gave no answer. His eyes were glued to the stage, now just barely lit to reveal a large, wrought iron bed and nothing more.
Mulder shook his head, smiling at his friend, and turned his attention to the stage. The lights came up a bit more, and now an object could be seen resting atop the pillows. As Mulder squinted, trying to determine what it was, movement out of the left corner of his eye distracted him.
A man, still drenched in shadow, prowled onto the stage.
Tall. Dark. Not the usual stripper's attire he was used to. This man looked like he'd just parked his motorcycle outside and walked in off the street. There was an arrogance to his demeanor that sent a surge of electricity straight through the middle of Mulder's body, hardening him to the point of discomfort. The reaction shocked him. He hadn't felt a charge like that since him.
Shit, and he hasn't even done anything yet. Okay, so maybe he will be worth the cover charge.
Slowly, the stage came into focus, and Mulder's attention was drawn away from the man, back to the bed and the object which was now clearer. His eyebrows drew down into a distinct frown as he realized that the object was a stuffed fox. Not a cheap, dime store toy but a finely crafted, as-real-looking-as-you-can-get, stuffed fox. Mulder's eyes darted back to the man who was now beside the bed, moving in time to the music, sliding his hands over his body and up through the hair that was longer than Mulder remembered it.
Alex.
His lips hadn't moved... he was sure that no sound had left his throat, yet the name resonated in his head as though he had screamed it. He stood motionless, watching as the man on stage slipped out of his black leather jacket and let it drop to the floor. He moved to the bed, lifting one leg and kneeling on the mattress. He grasped the wrought iron footboard and thrust his hips forward, rubbing and grinding his crotch against the bar. The pale spotlight fell across his writhing body and face, that beautiful, beautiful face, contorted in near-orgasmic pleasure.
Mulder's cock throbbed in his pants, matching the rhythm of the pounding in his head. His breath caught and held in his throat as the performer spun onto the bed, lying on his back with his head toward the foot of the bed. He spread his legs, straddling the pillows atop which sat the fox. He writhed and arched his back, taking hold of the crew collar of the black t-shirt. His fingers tightened in the material, then pulled, ripping the shirt down the front. His hands roamed over his bared chest and on down, moving to the prominent bulge in his skin-tight jeans. He stroked himself through the denim, then rose to his knees in front of the fox. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, undoing the button and drawing the zipper down. Slowly, he did away with the jeans and the rest of his clothing, then turned and lay back against the pillows, his head nestled next to the stuffed animal. He teased himself and the crowd, bringing one hand to a hard nipple, pulling and squeezing, while the other stroked his rigid cock.
The audience held its collective breath as his movements became more frantic and loud gasps could be heard above the music. Faster, his hand pumped the long shaft, and the gasps became cries as he arched off the bed and came, shooting up over his fist and stomach.
Mulder watched entranced as the fatigued man collapsed back onto the mattress. He rolled onto his side, winding his arm around the fox and burying his face into its side, as the stage faded into blackness, and the audience erupted into thunderous applause.
"Ho-ly shit," Ray shouted, whistling and clapping enthusiastically. He glanced over at his companion, who stood stunned, staring at the black stage.
"Hey!"
Mulder blinked and turned around to face his friend.
Ray laughed. "Guess you're glad now that you came, huh? He's incredible, isn't he? No wonder everybody is down here on Saturdays. But I wonder what the deal is with the stuffed animal?"
"Don't know," the bartender heard and responded. "But it's in every set with him. It's got some meaning, but he never says what."
Mulder finally found his voice. "Do you...do you do private dances here?"
"Oh, yeah. There are rooms upstairs."
"Does he do them?"
"Who? Alex?"
"Yeah...Alex."
"Yeah. But he don't come cheap. And there's always a list a mile long for 'im."
Mulder chewed his bottom lip. "What's he going for?"
"Are you shittin' me?" Ray roared. "You're actually thinking about doing this?"
Mulder looked from Ray to the bartender. "So?"
"Seventy-five bucks for ten minutes. That's just for a dance. Extras go for a hundred and ten. Rooms range from twenty-five to two hundred an hour."
"Thanks."
"Hey!" Ray called after the retreating man. "Where are you going?"
"I'll catch you later, Ray."
Mulder exited the club, only to return half an hour later. He walked up to the bar and asked to see the owner. The bartender pointed him to the middle-aged man in the blue suit, speaking with a couple of waiters. He approached and waited politely while the man finished giving his instructions to the pair. When they walked away, he stepped forward.
"Excuse me."
The man turned in Mulder's direction and looked him up and down. A wide smile curved his mouth. "What can I do for you?"
"I'd like to arrange for a private dance."
"Sure! Anybody in particular?"
"Alex."
The man laughed. "I don't even know why I asked. He gets ninety-five percent of the business, and the other five percent take other guys because they're too horny to wait. Uh...I can put you on the list. Might be a few days..."
"Not good enough. I want him tonight."
"Yeah, you and everybody else in this joint."
"What's your price?"
"Alex goes for..."
"I know what he goes for. I want him for two hours..."
"Two hours?"
"....and I want your best room. Tonight."
"You're talking seventeen hundred, normally. If you gotta have him tonight, I'm going to have to double that. At least. You know the amount of people this is going to piss off?"
Mulder counted off five thousand dollars and left it on the table beside them. "Do you care?"
"Uh..." The owner looked down at the pile. "Not really." He pulled a card out of his pocket. "Take this. Show it to the guy at the top of the stairs, and he'll show you to your room. I'll have Alex in to you soon. Have a good time, and just keep one thing in mind. He doesn't like to be touched."
Mulder took the card, nodded to the man, and proceeded up the stairs. Minutes later, he was sipping a glass of wine in the largest and most elaborately furnished of the four rooms.
"Forget it, Howard," Alex lounged in the comfort of his dressing room, his hand absently petting the stuffed fox that rested on top of the back of the sofa.
"What d'you mean, forget it? This guy dished out some major green for you, Alex. He's waiting upstairs."
"Nobody but fat, greasy businessmen from out of town throw out the big bucks. And for two fucking hours? I'm sure as hell not going to be dancing all that time." He gave a slow shake of his sable head. "No way. You remember the last time? I told you I wouldn't let any of them touch me again, and I meant it. Now, if you have a problem with that, I'll just walk right now..."
"No. No, no. You don't understand. This ain't no fat, greasy businessman. Believe me, I've learned my lesson. It's a miracle we didn't get sued for what you did to that guy. This one's young. Your age, maybe. Fucking gorgeous. You just might enjoy it."
Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed softly. "Okay. But I'm telling you, Howard, if he so much as lays a hand on me..."
Howard grinned. "That's my boy."
Alex rose from the sofa and walked to the closet, pulling out a pair of black pants and a black silk shirt. "I'm not your boy."
Mulder sat quietly in the sparsely lit room. His eyes rose to the door as it swung open. The man entered, eyes cast downward. He closed the door behind him and walked directly over to the CD player.
"How about some sound?"
No answer.
"Okay, I'll just take that as a yes." He loaded a few disks, and almost immediately, the air was filled with soft music. He closed his eyes, immersing himself in seductive rhythm. His body began to sway ever so slightly, and he took a long, deep breath and released it. "What do you want me to do for you?"
"I don't know," the soft monotone startled Alex. "What does five grand get me?"
Alex whirled around to face the owner of the voice he'd recognize anywhere. His eyes registered his shock. "What...what are you doing here?"
"Friend of mine told me about this dancer. 'Spectacular,' he said. So I came down to check it out." His eyes slid over Alex's body. "He was right. You were magnificent. So magnificent that I just had to have a private performance."
Alex shook his head. "What do you really want, Mulder?"
The seated man shrugged. "I told you. I want you to dance for me. I want to see all those sexy moves up close." He raised his glass. "Come on. I want your best performance. I've certainly paid enough for it."
"Mulder..."
"Hmm?"
"Go home. I'll ask Howard to refund your money."
"Oh, no. No way. You're bought and paid for, for two hours."
"You don't want to do this."
"Yeah... I do. Come on. Show me what scores of horny men are waiting in line for."
Alex stared down at him, restrained anger and hurt glittering in his eyes. He backed up a step and began to dance, never taking his eyes off of Mulder's. The fingers of one hand went to his shirt, slowly undoing the buttons, while the other raked through his hair. When the shirt hung open, he turned his back to his one man audience, jerking the shirt down, leaving it to hang from his forearms, curving just below his waist.
Mulder watched every move...every flex of every muscle in that nicely sculpted back as his dancer gave him a show he'd tuck away in his memory, right beside that one night they'd spent together so many months ago.
Alex spun back to face him, hand dropping to the waistband of his pants, slowly undoing the button and pulling the zipper down, as he stalked toward Mulder. He stopped inches away from the seated man's spread legs and turned again, slithering out of the black pants.
Mulder sucked in a quick breath, fighting against the urge to reach out and touch the tight, tanned ass that moved so enticingly before him. Just before he lost the battle, Alex turned around again and pulled his arms out of the sleeves of his shirt, whipping the garment at Mulder's face. The shirt dropped in a heap to his lap, and he made no move to touch it. His eyes remained glued on the pools of glimmering green as Alex danced before him now, clad only in a black g-string.
Alex closed his eyes, unable to meet Mulder's heated gaze, as he launched into the next part of his performance. Starting at his shoulder, he licked a long, steady path down his arm, ending with the back of his hand. The hand slid away from his mouth, across his jaw, turned, and continued down his throat, chest and belly, then brushed against the bulge which was barely covered by the scrap of black velvet. He moved forward, straddling Mulder's lap, and holding on to the back of the chair with one hand, he began a lewd bump and grind, just inches from his audience's face.
Mulder looked up, seeing a tiny sliver of green beneath the veil of thick lashes. The perfectly bowed lips were pulled back in a sensuous snarl, making visible the sparkling white teeth behind them. Mulder's eyes dropped shut for a moment as he remembered the feel of those teeth clamped on his flesh...
He focused again on the man in front of him, who now had his hand inside the black velvet, stroking and squeezing himself.
That was it.
He shoved Alex away and toppled the chair as he rose out of it. He reached out, circling the stunned man's wrist, and jerked him forward against his chest.
"What?" Alex panted, only millimeters from the other man's mouth. "Had enough?"
"Oh, no," Mulder threw back. "This isn't even close to being over. I don't mind paying top dollar, but I do want my money's worth. Every. Cent."
"Then let me go so I can continue."
"Answer a question for me first... why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you out here doing this?"
Alex shrugged. "I used to come in here quite a bit. Had a few drinks, danced with a few guys... Howard came up to me one day and said he liked my look. He liked the way I moved, and he asked me if I ever thought about making a career out of it. I figured, what the hell? Might be good for a few kicks... wasn't like I had any better offers."
Mulder's jaw repeatedly tightened and relaxed.
Alex rocked his hips from side to side, brushing his cock against the crisp material of Mulder's pants. "Come on, you're fucking up the mood..."
"Kicks? You're telling me that you do this for kicks."
"Yeah... and you know... the money ain't bad."
Mulder eyed him intently. "Looked like you were enjoying the hell out of yourself, earlier. You always so into it?"
"Yeah. I guess."
"Tell me what it is you get off on. What do you think about when you're up there?"
He saw the slight change in Alex's expression.
"I don't know..."
"You must know. Are you thinking about how every eye in the place is on you? Does it make you hot to know that those men would kill each other for a piece of you?" Mulder's hand slid over the hard curve of Alex's ass. "Or is it the thought of just one man that gets you so hard?"
Alex's gaze dropped to the point between them where skin met cocoa brown shirt. "Didn't Howard tell you the rule? No touching."
Mulder's fingers dug into the tight muscle. "Yeah, he told me. But it doesn't really apply to me, does it?"
No answer.
"Come on, Alex. Tell me. I want to hear you say that it's me you're jerking off for, every time you're up there."
Alex continued to avoid his eyes. "Can't say that."
"Why not?"
"Because it isn't you."
"No?"
"Nope."
"Fucking liar. That fox you have with you in every performance is more than a little obvious."
Alex spat out a harsh laugh. "Get over yourself, Mulder."
"Why? Apparently, you haven't gotten over me."
"It was one damn night," Alex argued. "What was to get over?"
"It affected you the same way it did me," Mulder whispered, brushing his mouth against Alex's cheek. "We were both just too stupid to admit it."
Alex pushed away from him. "God, are you way off track." He glanced at the small clock on the table in one corner of the room. "You've got a little more than an hour left," he said softly, then walked over to the bed. He seated himself at the edge, then slid back against the pillows. One hand swept down his chest, pausing to brush slowly over a nipple. "Come over here and let me give you your money's worth. Just don't tell Howard. If word gets out, the customers'll all expect the same."
Mulder stood with his back to the man on the bed. He stared down at the floor for long moments, then shook his head. "Get dressed."
Alex cocked his head, not quite sure he'd heard correctly. "What?"
"Get dressed. It's my time, and I'll decide how to spend it."
Alex heaved himself off the bed, bumping Mulder's arm with his own as he brushed past him.
Mulder turned, nonchalantly shuffling though the CDs, while Alex put his clothes on. Once fully dressed, he moved quietly toward the door.
"Where are you going?"
The younger man looked at him, anger dissolving into confusion. "I thought..."
"Don't think, okay?" He removed the CD that Alex had put in the player and replaced it. "Just come over here."
Alex approached, stopping at least two feet in front of the other man. Mulder curled his fingers in the front of the black shirt, and pulled him forward. When their bodies were touching, Mulder's arms slipped around his waist.
"You've danced for me," he moaned against Alex's lips, "now how about you dance with me."
Tentatively, Alex's arms circled around his neck, and they began to move together, one body fitting perfectly to the other.
One of Mulder's hands slid down a few inches, rubbing and gently squeezing Alex's ass, pulling him against the solid heat of his groin. They rocked together with flawless precision, each man holding the other captive with his eyes. Somehow, Alex managed to gather enough composure to ask a question.
"What is this?"
Mulder's eyelids drooped as he drew a long breath and let it out. "What's what?"
"This. One minute you want me to give you everything I've got, then the next, you tell me to get dressed, and we're here doing what we could be doing downstairs... and it wouldn't be costing you five grand."
"I just... I suddenly realized that I don't want to fuck you in the upstairs room of a strip joint, leave a fat tip under the pillow, then go home and leave you here."
"You make it sound like I live here. I don't, you know, I have an apartment. A very nice one."
"I didn't mean... I just..." Mulder's head dropped forward so that their foreheads rested together. "Alex, I'm sorry. I was just so pissed at you for leaving that night. When I saw you here, I didn't know how to react. That fox really knocked me for a loop. I thought all this time I was the only one thinking about what had happened. I got pissed again when I realized that you apparently had some feeling for me, you knew damn well where to find me, yet you chose to stay away..."
Alex bowed his head. "I thought I should. I mean... I don't hang around if I'm not asked to."
"I know. I should have opened my mouth. I tried, but nothing would come out. I screwed up. And now I'm here, screwing up again."
"How?"
"I should never have gone about it this way. I just should've gone to you and asked to talk. I didn't mean to hurt you by paying for your time."
"You didn't hurt me."
Mulder gave him a dubious stare.
"Okay, maybe you hurt me a little. It's okay." Alex rubbed his cheek against Mulder's. "You fixed it."
Mulder shook his head. "Not yet. Let me make it up to you."
"It's all right, Mulder..."
"Fox."
"What?"
"I'd like it if you called me Fox."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"All right..." Alex brushed his lips across the other man's. "...Fox..." His mouth opened, prompting Fox to sweep inside, stroking and probing the soft interior.
Fox moaned into Alex's mouth. Eight months later, he was amazed at how his body remembered the taste of this man. His tongue sought out its willing partner, tangling with it, then drawing back, allowing it access to his own warm interior.
Alex explored Fox's mouth at a leisurely pace, drinking in many a whimper. His hands began to move, one tangling in his hair, and the other gently caressing the length of his back. Their bodies continued to sway together as Alex slowly backed him to the bed.
Fox pulled away from the demanding mouth. "No. Alex, wait."
Alex stopped moving. "What... Fox... you want me, don't you?"
"God, yes. But not here. Come home with me, Alex." He took a quick breath. "And I don't mean just for tonight."
Alex frowned slightly, cocking his head. "For how long?"
"As long as you want to be there."
Alex studied him for a moment. "What about this?"
"What about it?"
"What if I want to keep dancing?"
"Do you?"
"...No. After the first night, I realized I was just doing it to let off steam. I was so fucking frustrated."
"I know. I went to shows for the same reason."
"Didn't help, did it?"
Fox shook his head. "Come on, let's get the hell out of here."
Alex looked over at the clock and grinned. "Your time isn't up yet."
Fox followed his gaze. "That's okay. It's bad enough we've wasted an hour and forty minutes." He took Alex by the hand and led him to the door.
"Your place or mine?"
Hazel eyes glittered with anticipation. "Which is closer?"
"Mine."
"Yours it is."
The two men descended the steps, fingers intertwined. Alex led the way through the crowd, drawing the attention of every man in sight. Seemingly oblivious, he pulled Fox toward his dressing room.
"What are we doing here?" Fox asked, once they were inside.
"Just got to get a few things, then we can go see Howard."
"He's going to be upset. You're his star."
Alex gathered up his jacket, a few objects from the dressing table, and his stuffed fox. He walked up to the man standing by the door, pressing their bodies together. He rubbed his head against the underside of Fox's jaw. "Don't want to be his star."
Fox kissed the top of his head. "Let's go."
They exited the room, having to wind their way through the crowd that had assembled near the door. Alex kept moving, holding on to Fox's hand, keeping him close behind.
No one touched him. They knew the rule and adhered to it. Touching Alex would get the offender banned from the club for a month or more, depending on the severity of the transgression, and no one was about to take that chance.
Alex spotted Howard at the other end of the club near the bar and made his way toward him.
"Howard... Howard!"
The man turned around. Spotting Alex, he checked his watch. "What are you doing down here already?" His eyes fell to the stuffed fox. "And why are you carrying that thing around?"
Alex pulled Fox up beside him. "Uh... Howard... I gotta talk to you."
Howard looked from one man to the other. "Alex, what did you... sir, do you have a complaint?"
Fox burst into laughter, then wrapped an arm around Alex's waist, pulling him back against his chest. "My only complaint at the moment is that this is taking too damn long. Let's go," he growled into the back of Alex's neck.
"Okay, okay," Alex whispered. "Uh, Howard... I quit."
Howard broke into laughter, then began to choke when he realized that Alex wasn't kidding.
"You... you can't! Alex, please! What the hell happened in the last two hours to make you decide..." His gaze flicked to the man who had wrapped himself around his star performer. "Oh. Oh, shit. Listen, Alex, whatever he's offered you, I'll double it. I'll build you a bigger dressing room...anything you want, only please don't leave me."
"Howard, listen. It's not what you think. I'm not leaving you for another club." Alex shrugged. "I'm retiring."
"Retiring? Alex, what the hell went on up there?" Howard turned his irritation on Fox. "What did you do to him?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? You come in here, throw five grand down and tell me you need to have Alex tonight. I graciously oblige you, and this is what happens?"
"Howard, shut up a minute, would you? Let me explain."
"Explain? What's to explain? My star is quitting on me... my business is toast... my life is over..."
"A new dancer comes along every day. You'll find one better."
"Yeah... right."
"Howard, you know how you're always bugging me to tell you why I'm always so unhappy and dissatisfied?"
"Yeah..."
"It was because of him." Alex motioned with his head to the man behind him. "We were separated, and it drove me crazy."
"So you knew each other."
"Howard... this is Fox."
"And this should mean something to me?"
Alex shook his head. "Are you that dense?"
"Shit!" The bartender heard and understood. "Fox, Howard... Fox."
"Christ, is that really your..." Howard glanced down at the stuffed animal that Alex hugged to his chest. "Shit! Oh, shit!"
"Took you long enough."
"Do you know how long people have been speculating on the significance of that thing? Jesus." He went back to whining. "Okay, I'm glad you're back together. Take a weekend off... go away together and have a great time on me, but... Alex... please... why do you have to quit?"
"It was never something I felt comfortable with in the first place."
"You could have fooled me... and everybody else in this place."
"I gotta go, Howard."
"Oh, God. Oh God, oh God, oh God..."
"Breathe, Howard, breathe. It'll be okay. I'll see you around."
Over the span of that five-minute conversation, news of Alex's retirement had spread like wildfire, as did the resolution of the 'fox' mystery. A sea of disappointed faces lined their path as they left, some graciously wishing him well, others simply displaying desolate stares as the men walked toward the back door.
"Hey!" A lone voice sounded in the crowd, turning a number of heads.
Fox stopped, pulling Alex back to his side. "Ray!"
As the other man wound his way through the mass, his eyes opened wider, and his jaw dropped lower. "Shit!" He looked from his friend to the man who had held him entranced not more than three hours before. "Hey, man, I just heard..." He looked again at Alex, who was now standing pressed against Fox, cheek resting on his shoulder, hand stroking up and down his arm. "...holy shit..."
"Ray. Listen, buddy, I gotta thank you for making me come here."
"Yeah... uh... you're welcome... I guess."
"I don't know if I'll see you again, so..." Fox held his hand out. Ray grasped it limply, and they shook.
"Listen... man... I gotta ask you something. Can we..."
Fox allowed himself to be led a couple of feet away from his lover. He looked back, holding his index finger up. Alex nodded, his attention never wandering from Fox, despite the attempts from members of the crowd to get him to look their way.
"So... it's you? This whole fox thing?''
"Apparently."
"All this time and I never even knew your first name. Damn." Ray shook his head. "So, let me get this straight. You two were involved at one time?"
"Yeah. We... lost touch."
"How the fuck could you lose touch with that? Were you on medication or something?"
"It's a long, complicated story, Ray. Just suffice it to say, we're back together, and it's due in large part to you."
"And that's it? He's quitting, and the two of you are just going to ride off into the sunset?"
"It's night time. But, yes, we're out of here. Going to see if we can get it right this time."
"God. Okay, well, good luck. I wish you the best, buddy, I really do." Ray laughed. "You know, this is the first time I've ever seen you looking happy."
Fox nodded. "I gotta go."
"Oh... yeah... by all means. I wouldn't want to keep him waiting, either."
Fox gave his friend another nod and a smile, then turned and made his way back to Alex. Once he reached his destination, he pulled the younger man up against his body, and laid a long, hungry kiss on his lips.
"Ready?"
Alex ground his crotch against Fox's hip. What do you think?"
"I think it'll be a miracle if we make it out of the parking lot," the older man muttered under his breath. "Let's go."
Once outside, they made straight for Alex's car and stopped at the driver's side. Alex unlocked the door, and stored the items he carried inside. He turned to the man who stood quietly beside him, eyeing him with restrained hunger. "Where's your car?"
"I couldn't find a space in the lot, so I had to park around the corner."
"Well, come on, I'll take you to it."
Fox folded himself into the sports car, complaining good naturedly. "Jesus Christ, Alex, is this thing small enough?"
"Yeah, I know. But it's so cool..."
Alex pulled out of the back lot reserved for employees and drove around the corner to Fox's car. The other man reached across the seat and slowly ran his hand from Alex's jaw, down to the very warm bulge in his pants. He kneaded Alex's cock gently, heard the soft moan, then gave him an evil grin and moved from one car to the other.
Waiting until Fox started to pull away from the curb, Alex drove off, leading the way to his apartment, which turned out to be less than ten minutes away. He parked his car, and as he was getting out, the Ford sedan pulled up alongside.
Fox killed the engine and stepped out of the car. The minute the door was closed, he found himself pressed up against it and a solid heat pushing against his ass. A warm, moist tongue feathered the back of his neck.
"Keep that up," he murmured, "and we're not going to make it up to your apartment."
Alex pressed rhythmically against his backside in turn, pushing him into the door.
"Alex..."
"Hmm?"
"Wouldn't you rather be doing this while we were both naked?"
"Sure. I'll take my clothes off if you take yours off..."
"I meant upstairs."
"Oh. Yeah, I suppose." He pushed against Fox once more...hard, then grasped his hand and led him to the elevator. They spent the forty-five second ride kissing hungrily and groping each other. As soon as the door opened, Alex pulled Fox out and down the hall to his door. He shoved the key in the lock, threw the door open, and yanked the other man inside.
"Nice," Fox murmured, wandering through the living room, looking around.
"Yeah. How about a tour?" Alex grabbed Fox by the front of his shirt and headed out of the room. "Let's start with the bedroom." He hauled Fox in through the open door and shoved him back onto the bed. In a heartbeat Alex was on him, sprawled over his chest, feeding voraciously on his mouth.
Fox reached up, tugging at the buttons on Alex's shirt. Alex began to reciprocate, but at the third button, changed his mind. He pulled away from his lover's mouth and grinned down at him. There was evil on his mind, Fox had no doubt of that.
"What?"
Alex rolled to his feet, pulling the other man up after him. He left Fox standing by the bed while he loaded the portable CD player that he kept on his dresser. As soon as the room filled with soft music, he came back to Fox, planting a fast, fierce kiss on his lips, then he leapt onto the bed. Settling back against a stack of pillows, he reached into his back pocket, pulling his wallet out.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Alex smirked at him, pulling a bill out and tossing it at him. "Take it off, baby."
"What?" Then he realized. "Oh, no. You're out of your mind."
"Why?"
"I'm not dancing for you."
Alex pulled out another bill and tossed it in his direction. "Come on..."
"Alex, I don't dance."
"Bullshit. You were moving pretty damn well at the club. Gave me a hard-on the size of all outdoors. Now, let's see what you got."
A five fluttered past Fox's face. "Alex..."
Still seated on the bed, Alex swayed in time to the music. "Let's see how you work that ass, baby."
Like a charmed cobra, Fox began to unconsciously mimic Alex's movements. "I'm not going to do it."
"Yes, you will," Alex's voice lowered to a throaty purr. "Let me see what you see when you watch me. Come on, do it for me."
Fox took a slow, deep breath, and as he released it, his eyes closed and he began to move.
A smile curved Alex's lips. Mesmerized, he watched the sensuous ebb and flow of muscle beneath his lover's clothing as he glided around the room, undoing first one cuff of his shirt, then the other. He spun, facing the bed, and slowly rotating his hips, raised his hands to the button that Alex had stopped at. He held his lover's eyes as he started to slip the small disk through the hole, then paused. Another bill floated his way, and he gripped the material, jerking his hands in opposite directions. There was a brief tinkling sound as buttons flew everywhere, hitting the dresser, the wall, and finally the floor.
Alex clapped and whistled softly, encouraging Fox to continue. And he did, ripping the shirt from his body, and tossing it away. He backed up to the end of the bed, kicking off his shoes, then going to work on his pants. The top button gave quickly, but he inched the zipper down at an agonizingly slow pace, stopping and starting... drawing it halfway back up after he'd had it all the way down. Finally, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband, and shimmied the material down his lean hips at the same infuriating pace at which he'd done his zipper.
Alex's cock pounded in his jeans, and he fought to keep his respiration even. He wondered if this was what all those men felt... if it was what Fox felt tonight, when he was on stage, performing. He refocused on his lover, who was now standing with his back to the bed, slipping his pants and socks off, giving Alex a very nice view of his ass, still encased in a pair of black boxer-briefs.
Fox straightened up and turned to face Alex once again. His arms crossed loosely behind his neck, and his body rocked and swayed in time to the music, earning another flurry of cash. His hands slid along the base of his neck, to his chest, and on down, thumbs circling his nipples briefly, before continuing down and breaking away just before they reached the impressive bulge in his underwear. He kneeled at the end of the bed, then dropped to his hands, crawling forward as Alex enticed him with a twenty, dangling from his thumb and forefinger. When he got close enough to take it, Alex quickly stuffed the bill down the front of his already unbuttoned jeans. Fox gave the other man a wicked grin, then lowered his head, grasping the zipper in his teeth. He pulled, and tugged, and worked the small piece of metal along the track, until it reached the end. He nosed his way past the worn material, stopping to nuzzle the soft scrap of velvet that barely covered Alex's erection. He stopped, hearing the soft moans of pleasure, and clamped his teeth onto the bill. He pulled it out and dropped it to the mattress beside the younger man's leg. In a series of fluid movements, he was on his back, head nestled against Alex's cock, and was writhing out of his underwear.
Alex took a number of deep, steadying breaths, trying desperately not to touch Fox, to let him set the pace, but his resolve was compromised a bit more with every twist... every thrust of his hips.
Fox sensed Alex's difficulty and lifted himself away, turning again to lay on his belly beside the younger man. He grasped a pillow, folding it in two and stuffing it under his hips.
Alex stared, slack-jawed, as Fox proceeded to rock and thrust into the pillow. He raised his upper body, supporting himself on his hands, and bore down again and again.
"Jesus Christ," was all the stunned younger man could whisper as he watched Fox literally fuck his pillow. When he could take no more, he yanked his clothing off, then pulled the pillow from beneath Fox's hips. "You want to do that," he gasped and lay flat on the mattress, "do it to me."
With little more than a clipped growl, Fox fell on him and positioned himself.
"Wait... wait."
"For what?"
Alex tangled his fingers in the golden-brown hair. "I want it hard, and I want it fast...we need lube." He reached across the short distance to his nightstand drawer and pulled from it a long white tube. He quickly unscrewed the cap, squeezed a large amount into his hand, and pulled Fox up far enough to reach his cock. He applied the gel, ignoring the faint moans, then threw the tube back into the drawer. "Okay, baby. Do it."
Fox guided his cock to the small opening and inched inside. Alex gasped with every thrust, and once he was completely embedded in the tight heat, he began to move, doing it just the way Alex had asked him to. He held his lover's hips in a bruising grip and rammed into him again and again.
Alex's head pressed back into the pillows, and he cried out in pain and pleasure. His fingers wrapped around his own cock and began to milk it frantically, knowing from Fox's own anguished moans, that he was just seconds from orgasm.
Fox pounded furiously into his lover until he felt the explosion take him over. He fell onto Alex's chest, screaming and gasping for air. He felt Alex's hand still moving between their bodies, then the warm gush of fluid, as his choked cries filled the room.
As soon as Fox gathered the strength to move, he rolled off of Alex, taking his place beside his lover's warm, satiated body. Alex kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose, and smiled wearily at him.
"I'm going to call Howard tomorrow."
"Huh?"
Alex laughed softly, reaching over to his wallet and pulling the remaining bills from it. He tossed them into the air, letting them float down over Fox's perspiration-covered body. "I've found my replacement."
Fox smiled and tucked himself into Alex's side. "Shut up."
"I'm serious. You'd make a killing... can I be your manager?"
Tired sigh. "Yeah... sure. Whatever you want."
Alex kissed him again and yawned. "One thing, though... no private dances."
"No?"
"Uh-uh." He wrapped an arm around Fox, pulling him closer. "That card is permanently filled."
END
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