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Saint Vitus' Dance

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“Hey, big guy.” Stiles greeted the bouncer when he arrived, like every day, dressed in his casual T-shirt and jeans. Derek grunted in response, standing like a statue with his large arms folded across his chest. Stiles chuckled, leaving a friendly pat on the mans shoulder as he walked in.
A deep hum of electronic music rumbled in Stiles’ chest, the club was always kept almost pitch black, neon lights coming off the stage to bring attention to the boys swinging on the poles.
Countless older men sat along in the many leather seats and couches, some surrounded by scantily clad men from ages 18 to 22.
Stiles always got nervous when he first entered the club, despite his popularity he couldn’t help but feel just a little self conscious.
A booming voice announced his arrival over the music, erupting cheer from a few patrons.
The other performs evacuated the stage, sending playful waves and blowing kisses to their audience on their way out.
The melody switched to a slow, sensual pace. He took hold of a nearby pole, swinging around once, sending a saucy wink in a stricken groups direction.
Stiles knew he was attractive, he could get nearly anything he wanted with his big doe eyes and pretty mouth. Even now the club's customers drooled over how Stiles moved, the precision of his hips, how his butt jiggled with sharp turns, he was deceptively strong with his skinny body, lifting himself up on the pole and sliding back down again, landing in the splits.
Men cheered, his fellow performers applauding. Sliding his way back up the pole a pair of eyes met his own. Derek, standing across the room, shrouded in shadow, the older man watched Stiles intently.
Stiles felt butterflies in his tummy, distracted by Derek's hard gaze and didn't even notice a man getting a little too touchy.
The stranger slipped some dollar bills into Stiles’ thong, as many customers often did, by lingered a little too long. Stiles thanked him with a nervous smile, swaying his hips away from the man's hand.
Clearly the stranger couldn't take a hint, he launched himself on to the performance stage, creating an immediate uproar.
Stiles cried out in alarm, his wrists snatches by the drunk customer.
The other dancers panicked, jumping to Stiles’ aid.
Derek was the first to arrive, yanking the boy off the stage, pulling the stranger down in the process.
“get out.” Derek commanded, the deepness of his voice sliced through the techno music like a knife, The drunk man wobbled to his feet, slurring curses as Derek practically tossed him from the club.
An unsettling atmosphere lingered in the air as the club resumed as normal, a few young dancers huddled around Stiles for supports sake.
“are you okay?”
“I can't believe it!”
“you poor thing.”
“you should go rest.”
Stiles just smiled tiredly, nodding to them. The pack of stripper boys shuffled to the changing rooms, flitting around Stiles like mother hens.
“Stiles.” everything stopped, the scantily clad glittered boys turning to Derek. He was the elephant in the room, taking up twice the amount of space compared to the thin, delicate youngsters in the dressing room, a dark aura of intimidating flooding the room.
A nearby close friend of Stiles whispered into the boys ear before directing the group out to the occupation room, trying to bring in more money and distract the remaining customers from the incident.
“are you alright?” Derek asked, careful around the boy as if he were a skittish animal. “yeah, I just…. that's never happened before.”
Silence fell, Derek looking anywhere but Stiles, looking uncomfortable and unsure of what to say.
“let me take you home.”


The car ride was painfully silent, Stiles dressed in his daily T-shirt and jeans, sitting in the passenger seat. The street lights and multiple neon signs illuminated Stiles’ blank, passive face, Derek took every available moment to look at the boy, both hands tight on the wheel.
“it wasn't your fault.” Derek sounded as small as he felt, only able to offer words for comfort. “I know.” Stiles answered plainly, face hidden by the darkness, staring out the passenger window. Unease filled the car, Derek cleared his throat in an awkward attempt to fill the silence.

Pulling into the apartment complex was the easy part, Stiles felt completely out of place among the quaint floral wallpaper, the desk manager was all smiles and sunshine (an empty Starbucks coffee container poorly hidden behind her computer)
She gave them a playful wink, wishing the two a good night. Stiles flushed to his ears, sticking by Dereks side like a nervous toddler.

The man's apartment was plain. With the bare essentials, a king sized bed (pleasantly meant for two) covered in crisp white sheets, a bedside table had a simple 80s lamp, a small digital clock showing bold red numbers.
The kitchen was shockingly clean as if Derek had just moved in, a coffee maker snuggled into a counter corner near a stainless steel toaster, the microwave sparkled between two wooden cabinets on the wall.
For some reason Stiles couldn't help but be surprised at the sight of a gas stove, a cheerful image of big buff Derek in an apron slaving over a gas stove to make a nutritious breakfast flashed through his mind.
“Go ahead and shower.” Derek gestured to the bathroom adjacent from the door side closet, just as clean and perfect as the rest of the apartment.
Stiles nodded stiffly, swift to lock the bathrooms white wooden door behind him.
Stiles’ shower was swift, washing away the memory of the drunk stranger.
A wonderful scent of lavender filled the apartment, a peek through the door revealed a scented candle burning by Derek's bedside, the man slouching against his many pillows, a paperback book in his hands.
“uhm, my clothes- “
“we'll wash them in the morning, go ahead and borrow a shirt.”
Derek vaguely gestured to the wooden table across from the bed, several drawers filled with various clothing items.
Stiles chose a simple undershirt, black and loose on his thin body.
They shared a bed that night, kept to their sides putting as much space between them as possible.
It was still dark out when Derek woke up, a wet heat between his legs startling him. He grumbled incoherently, swatting at the lamp to flicker on the light.
The covers were ajar, a Stiles laying between his legs. The dancer was suckling on his shaft, the throbbing organ carefully held.
“what the fuck?” Derek hissed, hips bouncing once when the boy licked the head.
“consider it a sort of thank you.” Stiles said, stroking. “you don't owe me anything.” Derek glared down at Stiles, ears red.
Stiles smiled softly “I know.” the boy climbed up the hard length of Derek's body, seating himself on the man's abdomen like he belonged there all along.
“I see how you look at me.” Stiles whispered in the dim light, placing both hands by Derek's head. Derek flushed, suddenly looking incredibly guilty “I'm sorry.” he said.
“Don't be.” Stiles smiled, giving the man a chaste kiss.
They kissed for what felt like an eternity, Derek's large hands holding Stiles’ hips steady.
“I'm gonna ride you.” Stiles decided, fingers pulling at the man's hair. Derek laughed, giving the dancer one last kiss before allowing him to sit up.
Watching Stiles move on his dick was similar to watching him dance on the pole, graceful and sexy. He swayed his hips like a professional, hands settled on Derek's bent knees for leverage.
Stiles carefully moved up and down, mewling whenever Derek's cock stroked his prostate.
It didn’t take long for either of them to climax, Stiles erupted first, semen landing on his belly and part of Dereks chest. Stiles was careful to have Derek pull out before he came, swiftly stroking the man into an orgasm.


Theo was more persistent than ever, many young dancers surrounded the wealthy business man, each pining for his attention with sweet words and flirtatious gestures. Theo, however, had eyes for only one boy. Stiles Stilinski, the young stripper currently occupying a nearby bachelorette party, the young woman hooping and hollaring as the boy (accompanied by another dancer named Isaac) performed together on stage.
Isaac, being taller than the other, took the dominant role in their performance, tracing Stiles’ abdomen and grabbing his hair.
Stiles gave a mock sound of pleasure, holding with both hands onto the polished pole in front of him, grinding back against Isaac but barely touching.
The intoxicated soon-to-be-bride tossed dollars in their general direction, the paper fluttering to the floor.
A third performer soon took over Isaacs attention, allowing Stiles to slip away for some down time.
Theo stood faster than necessary, near sprinting to the boys side.
“Let me buy you a drink?” Theo posed with one arm leaning against the wall above Stiles’ head, ankles crossed. Stiles smiled “Hello to you too.”
“You’re on break, right?” Theo continued “Let me treat you to a shot.”
Stiles hummed in thought, looking at his own reflection in his fingernails. “If I have to.” Stiles smiled coyly, joining the man at the bar.
Boyd, the bartender, greeted them with a cup in hand, wiping the inside with a dish rag.
“What can I get you for?” He asked, taking Theo’s card as he took order for their drinks.
Theo was a regular customer at the strip club, almost as popular as the actual dancers.
His dark hair and mysterious complexion was well received by the performers here, some offering to do private shows for the man, some even offering sexual favors.
He denied them all, of course, Theo would chase after Stiles until the day he died. Stiles was (in his opinion) at the top of the list, his big doe eyes and short curly hair more alluring to Theo than any dancer could hope to be.
A few minutes into their drinks Stiles excused himself. “Gotta piss.” he said, Theo laughing in response. Theo sat alone, patiently stirring the straw in his margarita when he noticed shady movement to his left.
Stiles’ glass was left unattended, innocent, when a stranger dropped something into the liquid, although Theo wasn’t sure what.
The stranger carried on his conversation with the person next to him, as if he hadn’t placed some unknown substance into the strippers drink. Theo stared at the beverage, brow scrunched in thought. “Thanks for watching my drink.” Stiles suddenly appeared, sliding back into his seat.
Theo panicked, feeling sweat form on his brow when the dancer took hold of his glass.
“Uhm!” Theo said, slapping his palm against the shiny counter.
Stiles glanced with wide eyes. “What?” He asked, drink still safely far away from Stiles’ mouth.
“Let me buy you a new drink, that one’s been sitting out too long.” Theo struggled, quick to whip out his card to Boyd. “Oh, no, thanks, I’ll be fine with this one - “
“But!” Theo shouted “You deserve the best, not some lukewarm trash.”
Theo swiftly took the drink from Stiles’ hand, leaving no room for question when he ordered a new fruity drink for the dancer.


They stood in the mans fancy apartment, a large floor-to-ceiling window lining one wall, the bed large enough for a ten person orgy. Theo’s bathroom alone was larger than Stiles’ own bedroom, the kitchen finely decorated.
Together they kissed, the two men laying on the bed, arms wrapped around one another.
“I need to tell you something.” Theo said, quickly reattaching his lips to Stiles’. “Mmhm?” Stiles hummed, sucking on Theo’s tongue.
“The drink thing… It wasn’t about it being lukewarm.” He pulled away from the dancer, holding Stiles’ around the waist. “I figured.” Stiles said, head resting on an incredibly soft pillow.
“I saw someone… Some guy… Put something in your drink. I don’t know what it was, but it couldn’t have been good. I’m sorry I lied to you.” Theo sighed, resting his head on Stiles’ warm chest.
Stiles chuckled “Don’t be sorry.” he said, stroking the mans dark head “Is this your way of asking for some ‘thanks for saving my life’ sex?”
Theo smirked “Well it wouldn’t be unwelcome.”

Stiles ended up on his back, face flushed deep red as the other man drilled into his hole like an animal. Theo was much more muscular than his expensive suits lead on, his large arms pinned Stiles’ down like an unmovable force, veins prominent in his forearm.
Stiles made hot high pitched sounds underneath Theo, gripping and pulling at the other mans hot skin.
The sheets bunched underneath their sliding bodies, some pillows had been knocked to the floor during their aggressive foreplay, their clothes joining them in messy heaps.
Stiles bit his own fist as his orgasm bubbled to the surface, a wave of pleasure wracking his body like electricity.
Theo fucked Stiles through his orgasm, making animalistic grunts and hisses when he released into the condom lining his cock.
Stiles didn’t allow Theo to lift from on top of him, exchanging feverish kisses.