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The crowd is awesome tonight. There are four bachelorette parties, two bachelor parties, and a group from a real estate convention that’s meeting in the hotel down the street. Drinks are flowing, everyone’s getting into the performances, the screaming is louder than the music, and there’s so much money being tossed around that the stage is covered with dollar bills.

Not just dollars, though. Stiles pulled several fives, tens, and even three twenties out of his G-string following his first performance. He’s got two more to go, and that means he’ll make even more because that’s how it always trends. By his third performance, everyone’s well past sober or so caught up in the performers that money is always abundant. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to do the fourth late show tonight, which is almost always dead.

As expected, the crowd is going crazy as soon as he steps onto the stage. Round two is always the cop uniform because this time of night is when he always seems to make the most money, no matter how good the third round can be. People into men seem to have a thing for a guy in uniform, and he knows he looks good in one, probably even better than he does when it’s taken off, though some might disagree. Stiles thrusts and spins and plays it up for the crowd, slowly stripping and doing borderline obscene things with his nightsticks. They eat it up.

While he’s performing, he notices Derek behind the bar watching and can’t help putting a little extra roll in his hips and thrust in his gyrations because, damn, Derek’s looking hot tonight. Not that he doesn’t look hot every night, but still. Stiles might be a stammering idiot around Derek when he’s not on stage, but, up here, he’s a God for the length of his song; confident and sexy in a way that never seems to follow him off-stage. He totally fellates his nightstick while giving Derek his best ‘I want to fuck you’ eyes before focusing back on the paying crowd.

They’re why he’s here, after all. He’s got to buy books for his summer classes, so any extra money is always welcome.

It’s probably ironic, in an Alanis Morissette way, that he’s stripping off a cop uniform to make money to finish college so he can actually become a cop. But such is life. Stripping is something he’s surprisingly good at, no matter how clumsy and awkward he is when he’s not on stage, and he doesn’t have to be experienced to know how to move his body in ways that make the screaming crowd think about fucking him or being fucked by him.

Despite any insecurities he might have when it comes to dating and relationships, he’s got a confidence in his body and ability to perform that makes this a great job for him. He definitely makes more in one night than he’d make in two weeks working as a waiter or in retail, so that’s another positive to it. It’s just a job, one that requires a lot more skin showing than others, but he doesn’t get caught up in the adoration or offers for sex. There are some lines he’d never cross, no matter how tight money might get some weeks.

The song’s tempo starts to rise, so he begins moving more frantically, pulling off his pants before moving into the final part of the act. He pulls one of the future brides onto the stage with him and gives her a lap dance that he’s definitely proud of, hearing the crowd roar its appreciation as the bride-to-be blushes and stares at his dick openly.

That’s probably the main reason he’s so popular on stage, since his G-string doesn’t do much to conceal the fact that he’s got a huge dick and dancing around really draws attention to it. Like Penny said in the uber classic Dirty Dancing, God wouldn’t have given him a big dick if he didn’t want Stiles to shake it.

Stiles winks at the bride-to-be before turning around and shaking his ass at her, laughing when she gets the nerve to slap it. He does step away, though, so she doesn’t get in trouble for touching the dancers. One of the reasons he feels safe performing at Allure is their strict safety policy for performers. Laura Hale takes care of her staff, and Stiles knows he’s never going to be expected to do anything illegal.

She doesn’t allow drugs or prostitution in her club, either, which means the performers are less likely to get pulled into shit they shouldn’t. He’s a huge fan of Laura, though, and not simply because she recruited him after watching him dance at The Jungle during his freshman year at college. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and strong-willed in a way that would totally turn him on if he wasn’t completely infatuated with her gorgeous brother, Derek.

Glancing at the bar, Stiles sees that Derek’s still watching. It’s this game they’ve been playing for the entire three years that Stiles has been dancing at Allure. Off-stage, they’ve become friends, oddly enough, after Stiles stopped the awkward flirting that he’d done the first few months after they met.

Now, his flirting is more casual, the way he tends to flirt with everyone, and it isn’t so awkward because he’s not really trying to get into Derek’s pants. Oh, he’d definitely accept if Derek ever lowered his standards and decided to actually date one of the dancers, but he respects Derek’s personal rules and isn’t going to push when he’s not wanted.

On-stage, however, Stiles is constantly aware of Derek watching him dance. There’s always a hungry look on that handsome face, an intensity in those pretty eyes that makes Stiles feel like his skin is on fire, and he wonders every single dance if this might be the time when he leaves the stage and finds Derek waiting there to give him what those looks promise. It never happens that way, though, and he’s resigned himself to pining for someone who only really seems to find him attractive when he’s performing and not when he’s just Stiles.

There is a difference, after all.

Stiles actually uses the stage name Luke because he doesn’t really want patrons here knowing his real name, even if there’s a good chance he’ll eventually run into some people who recognize him when he’s working for the sheriff’s department after finishing college. Luke’s a sexy seductive dancer who has grace and charm. Stiles, on the other hand, is hyperactive, talks too much about the most random things, is brutally honest sometimes, and is generally kind of an asshole.

A sarcastic smartass with a loyal streak is how Scott always describes him, and he can’t really argue with that. He has tact, but he just doesn’t choose to use it that often. Despite the fact that Stiles is playing in Little League while Derek is a top player in the majors, he seems to find Stiles physically attractive. He just doesn’t seem to have any interest in dating Stiles or even pursuing a strictly sexual type of thing because he can’t stand Stiles’ personality.

Derek’s not the first person to feel that way, and he’s not going to be the last. Still, it hurts to think that’s the actual reason Derek’s never made a move. And, really, it’s the fear of having that confirmed that keeps Stiles from asking Derek out despite the attraction between them. Maybe in the beginning, if Derek had showed any interest, Stiles could have done the casual thing without getting too involved. Now, though, he’s kinda crazy about the surly ass behind the bar, so he’d just end up with a broken heart if he indulged the attraction without insisting on the whole shebang.

The song is reaching the end, so Stiles struts around the stage, dropping to his knees and crawling, showing off his ass and arms as he prowls towards the patrons. There’s money getting thrown on stage, some getting stuck in the elastic of his G-string, fingers gliding across his oiled skin and touching in a way that’s innocent, just part of the performance. If a touch becomes less accidental, that’s when Boyd and Kira step in, bouncing the offender out of the club.

His performance ends with him at the front of the stage, kneeling with his finger hooked in the waist of his G-string, tugging it down just enough to show off the top of his pubes, his eyes half-closed and his sexiest smirk on his lips as he looks over the cheering crowd. When he meets Derek’s intense gaze, Stiles winks and impulsively blows him a kiss before he gracefully stands up, an action that can only happen so fluidly when he’s on stage. He’s tried at the gym before and just fallen on his face, so he knows it’s a stage slash Being Luke thing.

After playing it up for the crowd another minute or two, he grabs his discarded uniform and leaves the stage. Liam and Corey go out to collect the money and wipe down the stage before the next act goes on. Stiles takes the towel that Isaac offers him once he’s off stage, wiping his face and chest before slinging it around his neck. “Good crowd tonight. They’ll eat your fallen angel thing up like candy,” he says, motioning at Isaac’s feathered wings and barely there costume.

Isaac is A Dancer, ballet and contemporary, and he works at Allure because the money’s good enough to let him follow his true passion of having a dance company with his girlfriend, Allison. Stiles doesn’t compete with any of the other performers because he saves his competitive streak for more worthwhile things, but Isaac’s one he’d be jealous of talent-wise if he gave a shit about stuff like that.

“Glad to hear it. Ali’s in the dressing room, so don’t go bouncing that,” Isaac points at Stiles’ dick, “around all willy-nilly.”

“Willy-nilly?” Stiles snorts. “You sound like a scandalized old biddy instead of a half-naked stripper. Besides, Allison likes that.” He gyrates in Isaac’s direction, making Isaac laugh even as he pushes him away.

“You’re sweaty and gross and still riding the whole ‘pining for Derek’ high you get after stripping. Go take a cold shower and keep your personal bits away from my fiancé,” Isaac warns, wagging a finger before placing a sloppy wet kiss on Stiles’ cheek before going up the stairs to step on stage.

Stiles flips Isaac off, but he doesn’t see it because he’s past the curtain now. It still gives him a sense of satisfaction, regardless. Instead of going to take a shower, Stiles grabs one of the skimpy robes that are for the dancers—not just strippers, Isaac—and heads out the side door into the main club. Everyone’s focused on Isaac, who is magical on-stage in a way less overtly sexy way than Stiles, so he manages to make it to the bar without anyone stopping him.

“Can I get a water?” he asks, leaning over the bar and fluttering his eyelashes at Derek.

“There’s water in the back,” Derek points out, narrowing his eyes as he sees that Stiles is just wearing his G-string under the robe. “You shouldn’t be out here dressed like that.”

“Why not? Everyone else does,” Stiles says, straightening up and motioning down at himself. “Besides, I look good.”

“If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you?” Derek mutters, keeping his eyes on Stiles’ face instead of accepting the invitation to look him over.

“God, you sound like my dad.” Stiles rolls his eyes before he turns to look at the stage. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”

“I don’t pay attention,” Derek admits, sliding a glass of ice water across the bar. Stiles is tempted to call him a liar but doesn’t. “People seem to like him.”

“He’s going to be like Channing Tatum,” Stiles decides. “Get all famous and have a hot wife and be totally open about his days working as a stripper because there’s nothing to be ashamed of for dancing naked.” He reaches for the glass and freezes when he catches Derek staring. “I saw that, you just checked me out."

“Keep dreaming.” Derek gives him an unimpressed look before moving towards the other end of the bar to fill an order for Erica. Stiles stares at Derek’s ass for longer than he should before he picks up his glass of water and takes a drink.

“Hey, I know you,” a guy says, moving beside him.

“Do you?” Stiles arches a brow and flashes his professional smile as he looks at the guy. Middle-forties, maybe older, slight paunch around the gut, tan lines where his wedding ring should be, gray streaks in his brown hair, and a leer on his face that gives Stiles the creeps.

“I saw you on stage, stripping and begging for it.” The guy leans in, moving his hand over Stiles’ arm. “How much would it cost to fuck that pretty mouth of yours?”

“More than you’ve got,” Stiles says flatly. He removes the guy’s hand from his arm and sighs. “Dude, I’m not for sale. Also, touching people without permission is a surefire way to get your ass kicked, so you’d better watch it.”

“Of course you are. Guys like you are always for sale.” The guy’s breath smells like whiskey, and Stiles wrinkles his nose as he straightens up and pushes away from the bar. “Name your price.”

“I’m priceless.” Stiles smirks before he grabs his glass of water and glances down the bar, noticing Derek keeping an eye on him, hand poised over the call button for security. He shakes his head once because he can handle this bozo then turns to walk back to the dressing rooms. He’s almost at the door when he feels a hand on his arm. Without hesitation, he grabs the hand, twists his body, and punches with the hand holding his glass.

It’s only after he’s punched that he realizes it isn’t creepy guy grabbing him. Instead, Derek’s holding his nose and giving Stiles a dirty look like he…well, like he just punched him in the nose, which he did, so alright. Derek’s earned that dirty look.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I thought you were that creep from the bar,” Stiles says, putting his glass on the nearest table and grabbing a napkin off of it. The ladies sitting there are openly admiring his ass, so he figures stealing a napkin from them isn’t bad.

“I had Boyd escort that guy out,” Derek tells him, looking angry and annoyed as Stiles wipes the blood off his nose.

“You didn’t have to do that. I handled it.” Stiles makes Derek tilt his head back because it was a damn good punch, if he says so himself, and there’s blood dripping.

“I did have to do that because I wasn’t going to sit there and listen to him talk like that about you.” Derek’s eyebrows are even angry, moving up and down and glaring.

“Right. I get it. You don’t want people thinking Laura supports sex for pay,” Stiles realizes, feeling kinda bad for not telling the guy to get out instead of just walking away. “We should go to the back and clean this up, dude.”

“That’s not…I didn’t…” Derek growls and storms past Stiles, knocking into him as he walks through the door to the back rooms.

“Honey, you’d better go fix that,” the older woman at the table says. “You don’t want that boy to get away, do you?”

“Sadly, he’s not mine to lose and never will be.” Stiles smiles wryly before taking his glass off their table and following after Derek. He finds him in the dressing room washing his face, Isaac and Allison ignoring him because they’re too busy canoodling in the corner. Stiles picks his phone up and sends a quick text to Scott. ‘Ten points. Used canoodling in a sentence! I’m beating your ass, bro!’ before he walks over to Derek.

“Damn it, Stiles. Just go put some clothes on and leave me alone.” Derek glares at him, his nose a little puffy, and it takes Stiles a minute to realize he’s got a cotton ball in one nostril.

“Okay,” Stiles whispers, running his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. About the nose and, uh, everything. I’ll just leave you alone from now on, alright? I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

Without waiting for Derek to celebrate Stiles finally giving up on him, he turns and grabs his shower bag before heading to the bathroom. He’s got a third performance to prepare for, even if it’s half an hour until his show time, and he has to get his head into the game because his books aren’t cheap. Luke has to be ready to earn money, which means Stiles has to stop thinking about things he’ll never have.

It doesn’t take long to shower, and Stiles feels refreshed when he steps out of the stall. He dries off before pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants. He doesn’t bother putting on any other clothes since he’s going to have to get changed into his costume soon anyway. Walking barefoot down the hall, he steps back into the dressing room, relieved to see that Isaac and Allison have relocated their love fest. While they have invited him to join them, there’s just some stuff he doesn’t want to see when he’s feeling sorry for himself. Now that he’s giving up on Derek, maybe he’ll accept their offer as a rebound.

When he hears the door open, he stops playing on his phone long enough to ask, “How’s the crowd?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Derek says, his voice startling Stiles and making him drop his phone on his lap.

“Sorry. Thought you were Ethan or Jordan.” Stiles looks at Derek, frowning when he sees that he’s holding a brown paper brown with grease spots. “Did you seriously leave to go get food?”

“Burger and curly fries from Mabel’s,” Derek mutters, practically throwing the bag at Stiles. “And a chocolate shake.”

“Wait. You got food for me?” Stiles stares at Derek before he opens the bag and inhales. It’s like his death row going to die last meal in this bag, and he can’t help grabbing a handful of fries and putting them in his mouth all at once. “Why’d you buy me food?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s gross.” Derek glares at him but doesn’t leave. Instead, he sits in Danny’s chair and taps his fingers against his thigh. His jeans are pulled tight, and Stiles gets distracted mid-chew by those gorgeous thighs before he snaps out of it.

“That’s not an answer, big guy.” Stiles puts the straw in the milkshake and sucks on it, tasting the yummy chocolate and moaning appreciatively. Derek looks up sharply, his ears turning red, and Stiles almost chokes on the swallow of milkshake because that? Is totally checking him out. No mistake. No dreaming. No wishful thinking. “I saw that, Derek. You just checked me out. For real.”

Derek opens his mouth then closes it. He hunches his shoulders over and groans. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Stiles huffs. “What are you doing? You told me to leave you alone, so I promised I would, but now you’re here with food and looking at my mouth and all ‘maybe’ instead of sassy snark like usual and I don’t know what’s going on.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that in three years,” Derek mutters. “You always know everything, or like to pretend you do. I’d think this was rather obvious, though.”

“It’s not.” Stiles studies Derek closely. “If it were anyone else, I’d think you were interested in me. Bringing me food, ogling me, trying to be nice. But you don’t date dancers here, and this isn’t the eye sex we have when I’m on stage, so, yeah. I’m at a loss.”

“We don’t have eye sex,” Derek denies, ears reddening again. “And I’ve never said I don’t date dancers here. I haven’t before, but it’s not like there’s some rule.”

“You aren’t into me the way I’m into you,” Stiles reminds him. “You ignored all of my attempts at getting a date, and you’re only into me when I’m Luke, so don’t get all offended because I’m blunt enough to call bullshit when I hear it. If you’re doing this because you’re worried I might quit, you can forget it. I’m not some melodramatic whiny brat. Laura isn’t going to lose one of her best draws because you don’t return to my feelings.”

“Do you ever shut up and listen?” Derek stares at him. “I didn’t want that guy at my bar because he was talking about you like that. Not one of Laura’s dancers. You. I almost punched him myself but I called Boyd because I knew I might not stop once I hit him.”

“Oh.” Stiles puts another handful of fries in his mouth to keep himself from interrupting because Derek’s not a huge talker. Or, well, maybe he is but Stiles is always so nervous around him that he goes into hyperactive rambling mode a lot.

“I don’t want you to leave me alone, Stiles,” Derek whispers, looking into his eyes. “I, uh, I like having your attention focused on me. Yours. Not Luke’s. But, you are Luke, you know? So that makes it sound like I don’t like you performing when I do. I can’t not watch you dance. It’s impossible to look away.”

“Why haven’t you said anything before now?” Stiles asks quietly, putting the bag on his dressing table. “I tried when I first started working here, Derek, and you acted like I was contagious.”

“Because most employees who work here try hitting on me,” Derek points out. “I thought you were some brash college kid looking to score with the bartender, so I shut you down just like I do all the rest. I didn’t know you’d stick around, that you’d keep trying, that you really meant it. Hell, I didn’t realize until tonight just how serious you were. Allison had to hit me upside the head, literally, to make me realize I was about to lose you. Isaac even threatened me, which was more terrifying than you’d realize.”

“They’re a scary couple,” Stiles agrees, wishing he’d been able to see his friends set Derek straight. Or not so straight considering. His lips quirk at his private joke before he focuses back on Derek. “You’d have to have me to lose me.”

“Do I, Stiles?” Derek stands up suddenly and steps closer. “Do I have you?”

“You always have, Derek,” Stiles breathes out as Derek leans in and kisses him. It’s just a gentle brush of lips against his mouth, a hand tenderly touching his face, and then it’s Derek’s firm chest against his as they move closer, the kiss becoming less hesitant and more certain. Stiles licks at Derek’s lips, Derek’s teeth nibbling on his bottom lip, and then there’s wet warmth as the kiss deepens and becomes more passionate.

When they pull apart, Derek’s hands are down the back of Stiles’ sweats, squeezing his bare ass, and his hands are under Derek’s shirt, tracing muscles with his fingers that he wants to trace with his tongue. Stiles’ lips feel a bit swollen from the kissing, his damp hair mussed, and he has to go on stage again soon, which isn’t going to be easy to do when his dick’s this hard just from kissing Derek. Well, and a tiny bit of making out.

“Let me help you with that,” Derek murmurs, and it takes Stiles’ brain a moment to catch up. He watches as Derek drops to his knees before tugging down his sweats and nuzzling Stiles’ dick like he’s wanted to do so for years. God, he probably has, Stiles realizes, a fact that makes his hips jerk forward unconsciously.

“Have you thought about this, Derek? Thought about sucking my dick? Bet you’ve wanted to climb onto stage and do it right there, with everyone watching.” Stiles is a talker, both inside and outside the bedroom, but Derek doesn’t seem to mind. His eyebrows glare for a moment but then he’s distracted by Stiles’ big dick, and he starts licking and sucking while Stiles keeps talking. He keeps his voice low, moving his fingers into Derek’s thick hair and gripping it tight as he lets Derek guide the pace.

Eventually, Derek’s swallowing around him, sloppy and wet, drool running down his chest, face flushed, eyes glistening, pupils dilated. Stiles isn’t talking now, words failing him as he rolls his hips, eyes rolling back as he feels Derek’s tongue and the suction and it’s just too much. He tries to pull out, but Derek holds him steady as he comes, spurting into Derek’s mouth. Derek swallows, sucking until Stiles is completely spent, then finally letting him slip out of his mouth.

“You should get ready,” Derek says, voice low and hoarse because Stiles has been fucking his throat. “You’re on in five minutes.”

“Fuck.” Stiles drops to his knees and licks Derek’s chin before he kisses him, reaching down to squeeze Derek’s dick. Instead of an erection, he feels a wet spot and a bulge. “That’s so fucking hot, Derek. You came in your pants, untouched, just from having my dick in my mouth. Wonder if you’ll come that way when I’m buried in that tight ass.”

“Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Derek nips at his mouth. “But you’re not getting my ass until the third date. I didn’t plan on blowing you tonight, not before we’ve even gone out, but I couldn’t resist.”

“I’m glad you didn’t resist. Would have probably earned me extra tips going out with an erection, but Laura might not approve.” Stiles stands up and pushes his sweats off before he gets a clean G-string out of his bag. Third act tonight is going to be the baseball uniform, complete with bat that he uses in very suggestive ways. Fortunately, it’s an easy costume to put on, and it’s even easier with Derek helping dress him.

“I’d better get back to the bar before Laura sends out a search party.” Derek smiles at him, a flash of teeth and a hint of a dimple before he leans in for another kiss. “Let’s get breakfast after work.”

“Sounds like a great first date.” Stiles watches Derek leave before he puts his baseball cap on and wiggles around for a minute before he straightens his shoulders. “Alright, Luke. Let’s go make some money.”