The beach was otherworldly early in the morning. The golden pink morning light peeking through the clouds, the soft call of the seagulls, the gentle roar of the waves; any other person would be in a state of hazy contentment. But Lance, sitting and contemplating on a rickety old bench swing, felt the hole in his heart and the emptiness by his side more than ever. The beach was still a peaceful place for him, but now it was an broken peace instead of a complete one.
Lance checked his watch, ran his fingers through his hair, and got up to leave. He looked down at his feet walking back up the beach and even his footprints looked lonely. The drive to his workshop is uneventful; he runs over the day’s tasks in his mind, losing himself in his work. Load furniture into the truck, drive to location, unload furniture, install furniture, repeat. Find some time to design new pieces, find some more time to build them. Lance loved his work, but his life felt increasingly meaningless. Work filled up the hours left over in her absence.
Back at home, he opened the fridge, just looking for something to please his body so he can get back to moping. He picks up a tub of cookie dough that still has a note on it. “Let’s get fat together!”, it reads in curly writing. It seems even cookie dough couldn’t help Lance escape her.
“Lies,” he thinks, “all of it was lies.”
And so the days pass, time helping to heal.
One Tuesday morning after a drop, Lance checks his phone to find a voicemail from an unknown number. Getting into his work truck, he puts the phone up to his ear and hears a voice he hasn’t heard in ages, “Hey Lance buddy it’s Hunk. It’s been so long man I hope you’re doing well, were in Tampa right now! But I’ve got some bad news. Rolo’s dead. Were having a service for him tomorrow. 9942 E Alamo Dr at 2. Hope you can make it dude.” Shock filtered through Lance’s body at the thought of attending Rolo’s funeral. He was so young. Sure, the guy had made some bad choices but dead?
“Things really do change in 3 years”, Lance thought absently, already focused on work again. He really isn’t sure he can handle thinking about Rolo’s death right now. He was the one who had introduced him to Nyma. He wonders if Nyma knows, but then cuts that train of thought loose as he decides he sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to tell her. Not after she left. The day drags on and Lance pulls his suit out of the closet, technically prepared for the next day but in no way ready. He drinks until he falls asleep, unable rest without intoxication anymore.
The first thing that strikes him as odd is that the funeral is at a Motel 6. He knew the Voltron dancers didn’t spend their money wisely but he’d have thought they could have given their companion a nicer memorial spot. How on earth had Shiro gone for this? Even Pidge isn’t this heartless. Lance steels himself as he gets out of the car, walking up to the woman at the front desk.
“I’m here for the, uh, wake.” he says, and the woman, who is obviously thrilled to be there, raises a single very thin eyebrow.
“There isn’t a wake here dumbass” she says in a monotone voice that still manages to sound scathing, and goes back to reading her gossip magazine. Okay. Weird thing # 2. And weird thing #3 comes immediately after that when he hears screams, splashes, and loud music coming from the recently opened pool door. With a growing suspicion Lance walks out onto the pool deck to find a raging party going on. At 2 pm. When there was supposed to be a funeral.
Before he had been given enough time to take everything in, he felt a pair of strong arms
grasp him around the middle and pick him up. “L ANCE YOU SON OF A BITCH YOU’RE HERE! IT’S SO GOOD TO SEE YOU!”. After this he was immediately thrown into the pool. In his suit. This day just got better and better. Lance rose sputtering to the surface of the pool and finally trained his eyes on the yelling group of guys standing under a weathered umbrella, mostly naked. Shiro was beside him in the pool, completely nude, and slapping himself in the chest like he’d just won a gold medal in the olympics. Lance dragged his sorry soaked ass out of the pool to greet his fuckhead friends for the first time in 3 years.
Lance isn’t exactly sure how his old stripper buds have managed to throw together such a raging party at a motel 6. He’d gotten there at 2 pm, but this has been in swing for at least an hour or two based off on the level of fucked everyone was. Some girl was running around in a bikini, a motorcycle helmet, and doc martins, jumping on shit and white girl dancing. Same old Voltron guys, Lance thinks. After getting into some dry clothes and sitting down, he properly greets the gang again.
“So I’m guessing Rolo isn’t dead” is the first thing out of Lance’s mouth. Pidge, Shiro, and Hunk burst into teary laughter, Pidge laughing so hard she throws up.
“God no that little fuker betrayed us and left for another club”, Shiro finally gets out after the laughter has died down. “Who in Quiznack’s name told you he was dead??” Hunk, completely remorseless, raises his hand, which spurs everyone into another round of laughter. The helmet girl is standing in the corner, banging her head against the wall.
“God it is good to see you guys again.” Lance finds himself grinning, even after the ordeal he has just been put through, “So why are you guys really here?” .
“Were on our way to myrtle beach for the convention. One last ride for us boys.” Shiro tells him, sobering up a little. “Yeah”, Pidge cuts in, “If we’re going down, we're going down in a tsunami of dollar bills!”
“How are you though? How’s Nyma? How’s the furniture business?”
Lance dodges the questions like a bullet. “Wait one last ride? What do you mean? What’s happened to the club?”
“We closed a few days ago for the last time. With you AND Rolo gone our act just fell apart. Kicked us out.” Hunk looks on the verge of tears as he says this. Pidge pats him on the back. “Hey at least it means we don’t have to eat that awful food there anymore?” Hunk snuffles but does look significantly happy about that little fact. They continue to chat about their lives, but never come back around to Nyma, and Lance is thinking he has to go to church now and thank God for that small service.
Lance gets back to his house that night feeling more like himself than he has in weeks. He changes into sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt that drops low underneath the arms, almost down to his hip bones. He definitely has not let his body go. You can still count each ab, his arms taut with muscle, and his booty is still twerkalicious. Or at least that’s what he thinks as he checks himself out in the mirror. He’s humming quietly to the tune of whatever was playing on the car radio, actually cooking dinner instead of ordering take out. Lance notices his i-home looking dusty and lonely and decides to take mercy on the unused machine. Plugging in his phone, he shuffles his music. When the first few beats come out of the speakers, Lance starts to laugh. Of all the songs to play, how could Pony by Ginuwine be the very first one? Lance thinks that maybe he actually is going to have to become a religious man, God seems to be looking out for him today.
Standing at the stove, his hips start to move of their own accord, thrusting in time with the beat. Lance tries to ignore it but soon enough his whole body is rolling in time with the song, the words flowing out of his mouth like he listened to it yesterday. God it feels good to move his body like this. He slides down the bench in the kitchen, rolling onto the table. On all fours, he grinds his crotch down, using his knees to slide across to the other side. He leans and arches his back so that his abs are on full display, glistening with sweat, ass hitting his heels. He spins his body out, supporting it with one hand as he leaps to the floor, still so agile. As the song comes to an end, he does a few spins, and then poses on his toes, with his arms out to the side. He remembers several women crying once, over this pose. Every muscle in his body is flexing and Lance feels alive.
He also realizes he’s hard. God he’s forgotten how much he gets off on performing, even if it’s just for himself in his kitchen. He tentatively reached down to palm himself through his pants and let out a moan.The last time he’d been touched? Lance couldn’t answer the question. His shirt hit the ground in a few seconds, resolve crumbling just as fast. He deserved to feel pleasure, he told himself. Sitting down on the bench, back leaned against the table, he shimmied his pants down over the curve of his ass. Taking his cock in his hand made Lance let out a breathy little sigh. He was so desperate to cum already and he hadn’t even started. While his other hand settled for squeezing his upper thigh, Lance started slowly stroking, trying to take things slow and enjoy the sensations. But his body had other plans. The speed of his hand increased, occasionally slowing to rub a thumb over the tip of his cock.
Out of nowhere Lance remembered he hasn’t been with a man in so long, and the thought of some gorgeous stranger fucking him pushed him so much closer to the edge. He’s panting loudly now, unable to control it. His other hand left his thigh, rose to his mouth, and he sucked on his own fingers shamelessly, moaning around them, other hand working his cock the whole time. Once they were slick, Lance reluctantly popped them out of his mouth and let them drop between his spread legs, tentative, out of practice. But Lance was too desperate to be shy with himself and slipped a digit in. The feeling of being filled, even just a little, almost made him cum right then and there. But he held on just barely, slowly moving his finger in and out, liking to be teased. Lance started moving a little faster, getting both hands in a rhythm. He let his mind wander as he neared his climax, fantasizing. After being with a woman for so long, men were taking over his desires, the need to take cock consuming him. Lance was moaning, thinking about someone fucking him from behind while someone else fucked his mouth when he hit his prostate, and Lance was gone. He came all over his own chest, head tilted back so far that the top almost touched the table. He laid there panting while the cum and drying sweat mixed, trailing through his abs.
After a little more recovery time, Lance sat up and announced, although no one else was in the house “I’m going to Myrtle Beach!”. He cleaned himself up just in time to save the pasta, thank god. That night he fell asleep without a drop of alcohol and slept without a sound, exhaustion and happiness a better remedy than booze.
Chapter 2: Mad Mary's
Theres a bar, and a drag queen, and a campfire.
Lance rolled up to the hotel in the late morning, bags packed and ready to go. He waltzed up to the back of a sort of sleek looking, motorhome type truck that all the others were loading.
“Got room for one more?” he called into the back, Hunk and Shiro turning around in delight.
“Whoa seriously? You’re gonna come with us?” Hunk looked ecstatic after Lance started grinning.
“You betcha I am. One last ride hey boys?”. Hunk and Shiro were cheering over Lance’s words but Pidge was just trying to fake a happy face. Lance would have to deal with that later. And so their trek to Myrtle Beach began.
“This is better than when Justin came back to the Backstreet Boys!” Shiro said over the music.
Pidge was horrified, “First of all that is way too old for us and second of all Justin was in N’Sync you moron!” Lance smiled to himself on the bench as the vehicle began to roll out of the parking lot. It was good to be back.
After they’d been on the road for a little less than an hour, Lance’s curiosity was starting to get the best of him. The odd choice of vehicle, which had also been painted strangely, and all the vitamin powder and blenders that seemed to be laying around were very odd things for stripper convention transportation. “Ok guys what the quiznack is going on with this ride?” Lance asked the group.
“It’s a probiotic froyo truck with a DJ setup in the back! Shiro and Hunk own it, they drive around selling froyo and bumpin some tunes” Pidge explains. Of course that was the natural explanation. Why hadn’t Lance thought of that?? It wasn’t the perfect road trip vehicle, or even road trip companions (there were way too many mesh clothing items in the vicinity for them to be perfect but) but being out on the open road with his friends was always good for the soul. When a few hours had passed, Hunk gasped and yelled from the driver’s seat “I know where we’re going tonight! MAD MARY”S”, and it was like a bomb had gone off. Everyone was shouting, chanting “MARY’S MARY’S MARY’S” as loud as they could manage.
With the sun finally sinking below the horizon, the froyo dj spot rolled to a stop in a dirt parking lot. A huge neon sign lit up the twilight, reading ‘Mad Mary’s Best Happy Hour in Town’, and the gang all shuffled inside, excited to be out of the truck. Grabbing some cocktails from the bar, they settled down at a small table to enjoy the night’s entertainment. Then came the reminiscing of the old days, and of old conquests, and old excitements. It was set out to be quite a sentimental night until they realized the entertainment was a Drag Queen. By the time they caught on, she was calling for volunteers in an “Amateur Drag Dance Off” up on stage. Who were they but to join?
Lance downed his drink and beat the others to the stage, stepping up onto the platform as if he were wearing platform heels. The crowd cheered as he started to move his hips, still acting as if perched on heels. Then his arms began to move in time with his gyrations, moving in time with the clapping, while his fellow strippers started to make their way up. Lance bowed dramatically and allowed Pidge to take his place. Pidge moved her arms around her head in a whirlwind of motions, winding the crowd up even more, stopping to pose dramatically as Shiro Climbed the steps. Shiro kicked his leg out one by one as he waltzed onto stage. He had somehow acquired a feather boa. He was sliding it between his legs, thrusting provocatively, twirling it all around himself. The noise level was deafening but Lance was lost in the limelight.
The last of the Voltron dancers took the steps up to the stage and the leading drag queen gasps. 7 inch yellow heels were glowing on his feet, with a white feather boa wrapped around his next, and a bejewled headdress sat on his head. Where in gods name did he get all that in 2 minutes? Hunk rocked his hips back and forth, swaying on those heels but never faltering. The drag queen reached around and tucked $400 in his waistband, the prize for the best amateur!
The commotion eventually died down and the group found themselves sitting around a beach fire with some newly acquired friends. The night wair was cool, the stars were bright; the sand between your toes and the roar of the ocean had stilled everyone, quietly talking in the light of the flames. Pidge had been making passive aggressive comments all night, and Lance was ready to put this behind them .
“Come on Pidge pick up this log and hit me”. Lance grabs her hand and hikes her to her feet. Sand spills off of her clothes and she looks at him like he’s insane. “Listen you’ve been making snide comments at me all night, let’s just get this out the old fashioned way just hit me!”
Pidge narrowed her eyes, “Haha very funny I don’t want to do this, let it go”
“No seriously,” Lance insisted, “Hit me with the fucking log so we can move on. Just fucking do i-” and Pidge swung the log, nice and hard, right into Lance’s dick and balls.
“FUCCKKKKK” he managed to get out, all the air knocked out of his lungs.
“Oh my god,” said Shiro, and everyone burst into laughter. Pidge was apologizing but Lance’s ears were ringing.
“Haha very good it’s ok I just gotta take a moment aight?” Lance told them as he stumbled out of the warm campfire’s glow, needing to pee. FInally choosing a spot, he stumbles to a halt, and drops his zipper, whipping out his magnum dong, trying to make sure he still had feeling in it. As he stood there peeing, a camera flashed from behind him. Lance whirled halfway around still peeing, and saw a pretty dark haired man standing there looking intently at a camera.
“Can I help you? I’m trying to take a piss here”. The stranger looked up.
“Oh you are? I hadn’t noticed.”
Lacne didn’t know what to do. He finished peeing and tucked himself away, turning around to face this man.
Brushing his long bangs out of his eyes, the other says, “I’m pretty sure this could sell big one day. ‘Man Takes Piss On Beach’, it’ll be a new classic.”
Lance laughs, intrigued by the stranger’s dark eyes and hair, so contrasted by the smooth pale skin. He was the one that could be a beautiful picture, standing here under the moonlight. For once Lance was speechless.
“Cat got your tongue?” the other asked, cocking his head slightly to the side, just like a cat himself. This seemed to knock Lance back into reality.
“I mean you certainly left me speechless but I’d rather you have my tongue than a cat,”
Lance shot back in reply, throwing on his best flirting face and skills. But the dark haired man wasn’t fazed, his longer locks blowing in the wind. He looks over to the shore, where a sailboat is docked, with a party of drag queens boarding it.
“How about we sail out to that island and get to know each other?” So straightforward. SO Sexy. The stranger’s head cocked again and Lance felt his heart stutter. He likes to think he is a confident man, but this dark beauty had rattled him. “Oh so you're hanging out with drag queens now, aren't they such lovely ladies, real quality names too I also have an inner drag queen I mean who doesn’t..” and Lance started to ramble, while the other watched him with amusement.
“I have an inner drag queen too wanna know her name?” the stranger interjects, throwing Lance off of his rant. “It’s Dolly Tits what’s yours?”
Lance relaxes a little at that, laughing. “Mine? Oh her name is just you know, Clitoria Labia.”
The other man, who was taking a drink at the time, proceeded to snort vodka out of his nose, leaving Lance in the sand cackling.
After recovering, “Dolly” goes, “So this island or no?”
Shit. Lance had forgotten about that. He was torn; very intrigued by this man, but the island held too many sour memories.
“I can’t,” he said, “but if you're free this Saturday, you can come up to Myrtle Beach for a pretty sweet convention”, Lance invited, giving his most provocative eyebrow raise. The other’s eyes widen a little as realization dawns on him.
“Ohhh you’re a stripper. That makes so much sense.” He started to laugh over Lance’s offended protests, and he turned his back to start making his way to the shore. His hair blew in the breeze and his ass looked amazing. Lance was a gonner.
“Maybe I’ll see you there then”, he called from the boat that was pushing off. Lance was incapable of doing anything but waving. He made his way back to the campfire, curling up in the van and hoping for dreams of gorgeous strangers.
Chapter 3: Molly
The gang takes molly
Yet another morning dawned on the beach as the group began to stir. Lance’s signature eye cover still on his face, headphones in his ears, still sleeping deeply in the truck. Shiro and Hunk were curled up in the sand around the remains of the campfire, Hunk drooling. Pidge seemed to be the only one who rose early, and was meditating facing the ocean. Lance was the next to stir, his mouthing taking the shape of a big o as he yawned and stretched, the mask and headphones removed. Climbing out of the back of the truck, he saw pidge rising from a cross legged position and walking back towards him.
“My meditation was really clear this morning. I really got a lot of that anger out.” Pidge seemed to be in a better mood, smiling softly at Lance. “You know I was so mad that you left because I was jealous. I wanted to get out too and I’ve been trying but it’s just not working for me. I was angry that you left us behind to do bigger and better things. And I’m sorry for that.”
“Whoa buddy there isn’t anything to be jealous of,” Lance assured her,” But thanks. Can we go back to being buds?” he sounded so hopeful, and Pidge gave him a rib crushing hug.
“Only if you don’t skip out on us again man. Keep in fucking touch ok?” Lance grinned
“I’ll do my best you smol-” he started to say but at the mention of smol Pidge had launched herself, wailing on him with all her smol fury and strength. Things are going to be ok, Lance thinks while taking repeated heavy punched from the 5’2” stripper in front of him.
Pidge’s attack had roused the others, who were shaking the sand out of their hair and making their way over.
“Ayeeee did you bangee?” Lance asked Shiro, giving him a seductive eyebrow raise.
“No. I didn’t. I haven’t had actual sex in 5 months,” Shiro says while covering his face, “They see it and then they go ‘oh how about a blowie or a handie’. I am so THIRSTY OVER HERE!” but all sympathy was lost as the others were dying in fits of laughter.
“Oh man that’s rough,” Lance tells him, patting him on the shoulder, ”You just gotta find the glass slipper you know? The perfect fit is out there.” They tidy up their campground, and, since they are all stripper divas, do their daily primping before loading up the truck and getting on the road again.
Chat had been idle, small talk and commentary on the passing scenery. An hour or two into the day’s drive, Pidge pulls out a little mint container and eats one. Lance is very sure they are not mints. She hold the container out to Shiro, who takes one, and then Lance.
“Is this Molly?” Lance doesn’t really need to ask as he looks in the little container, but wants to make sure nonetheless.
“Yeah now are you gonna take one or naw?” Pidge has raised a single eyebrow, judging him hard.
“You realize we will be useless the rest of the day.”
“What’s your fucking point? Grow a vagina and just take one.” Lance pulls out a tiny white pill and swallows it, sighing.
“Hello yes 911 I’m being subjected to peer pressure i’d-” Pidge decked him in the arm and Lance quickly shut up. Hunk, who is driving, doesn’t take one.
The molly is starting to kick in about an hour later when Lance asks what routines they’re doing.
“Same old fireman routine, there’s no way in hell I’d do anything else” Shiro states, going off about how it’s a perfect song and the thong is great and the ladies love it.
“Ok hear me out guys. I know I came in last minute, but since this is THE last ride, why don’t we make it special? Own it. Fucking Rolo made all these routines, and aren’t you terrified of fire Shiro?”
Shiro did look a little perplexed at that. “I mean yeah I am but what does that have to do with it.”
“Let’s make routines that we’re passionate about, not just do the same old routines that fucking dickwad made us do!”
Pidge was not going for it. “Dude we only have two fucking days and you want us to make totally new routines? I don't want to look like fucking fools at our last performance.”
“And not all of us are dancers like you,” Shiro points out, “I can’t just make up a good routine!”
By this time they were pulling into a gas station and everyone got out.
However, Lance is not backing down, “Look Shiro you have the body of a greek god you could go out on stage and just stand there while music played and the chicks would go wild! Look at that fucking girl at the register, I bet you could make her smile!” The group all turns around and looks at her. She looks like the unhappiest person Lance has ever seen.
“That woman has never smiled in her life!” Shiro yells at him.
“OK I’ll make a deal with you,” Lance counters, “If you go in there and make that lady smile, we’re going to do all new routines that WE are passionate about.”
Shiro looks kind of dazed but I mean they are all on Molly. Everyone else nods their heads, the deal seeming fair to them.
“Fine.” is all he says and Shiro turns and walks into the store. All the others press their face into the glass outside to watch.
Shiro walks in slowly, throwing his best smile in the direction of the checkout girl, adn bending over to allow a nice check out of his ass. She doesn’t even look at him. Then he hears a new song start to play over the speakers. The first chords of “I Want it That Way” play through the store and Shiro is feeling inspired. He struts towards the back, shaking his ass, but the girl still doesn’t look. When he hears “You are, my fire” he grabs a bag of cheetos off the shelf and tears it open, dumping the bag down his chest. He has got the girl’s attention now, but her look remains emotionless. The other’s mouths are all dropped into an O. He continues to strut to the fridge and pulls out a water bottle, dumping half of it down his chest while he rolls his body. Still nothing from this girl. Shiro dumps the rest of it over his head, running his hands down his body and moving his hips. He dances back up to the counter and gets down on the floor, thrusting and rolling his body. As the song is nearing the end he rips off his shirt, and asks, panting, “How much for the cheetos and water?” There is still no response from the girl. Shiro is moving to turn away when she cracks a smile. He has won the day.
He strolls out of the store, high on life (and molly), to the other guys, who are doing a victory dance in the parking lot, their faces smeared on the outside of the store’s glass.
“I guess you win this one.” Shiro says to a grinning Lance.
“ALRIGHT GANG we got new routines to write let’s get back on the road and let’s get drafting!”
They all get back in the van and get back on the road, with some newly acquired snacks.
After some more discussion they decide that new costumes are needed as well. And of course the natural thing to do with the old costumes, to high people at least, is to throw them out the window. Which they did.
‘Oh wow have I missed you guys,” Lance tells the group, leaning back against the seat.
Shiro bolts up and starts shaking his shoulders, “There was a giant hole inside of me that was created when you left, and now I feel like it’s full again.” And then he straight up started sobbing. Lance held his massive manly shoulders as he cried, shushing him gently. “It’s ok now, I’m here again right?”
“I think we need to combine our energies right now and become one with the universe” Pidge goes, bringing everyone into a circle. “Hunk get your hand back here we’re having a bonding moment.” He sticks his hand back from the driver’s seat and they hold it in their circle.
Pidge starts saying some spiritual mumbo jumbo and tells them to close their eyes. Little did they know, Hunk has also closed his eyes. They continue in their little circle, until they hit something with a huge crash. Everyone begins to panic and Hunk tries to regain control of the truck but the damage has been done. And then they crash right into a tree, the crumpled front of the vehicle smoking.