This is a strip fic that was requested and is for the Ginny to my JMo, my best friend. It is an AU setting and largely influenced by Magic Mike. Written and published on my tumblr way back at the end of 2013.
Warning: Contains suggestively sexual material.
Mary Margaret grabs at Emma's arm, "A strip club. I can't believe I let you talk me into this" The dark headed girl looks between Ruby and Emma. Her tone is serious but there is a certain intrigue and excitement behind her words.
Emma laughs, placing a reassuring hand on her best friends shoulder. It was Mary Margaret's hen's night and Ruby and Emma wanted to make sure the usually straight-laced girl got to live it up.
Mary Margaret had fought them on it at first, stating that she didn't have eyes for anyone but David. But her two bridesmaids talked her into it eventually.
Now they stood in line, the neon sign above their head and bouncers just ahead, ushering people in.
The wind stirs around them, causing Emma to wrap her arms around her bare shoulders as they approach the front of the line. With a quick pass over the bouncer lets them in.
A shirtless waiter comes over and upon seeing Mary Margaret's sash naming her 'bride-to-be', he escorts them to the table in front of the stage.
Emma starts for the seat on the far side of the table to the stage and the hardest to get too but Ruby's hand comes down first, a triumphant grin plastered on her face. Emma throws her a scowl and sits down heavily in the last remaining chair. Cocktails are brought over and the girls settle back as music starts up.
A man wearing only tight jean appears on stage, his arms open wide and a welcoming smile on his face.
"Are you ready, ladies? Let's welcome onto the stage the Uptown boys" With a small bow, he runs off stage.
A light flashes and the curtains at the rear of the stage open. Five men come out dressed in suits. They move in time perfectly, each layer coming off in one smooth motion. Their hips perform actions that make girls minds go straight to the bedroom.
Emma watches, her gaze flickering from male to male but always coming back to the same dark-haired man. He is stunning in a roguish way. His facial hair, more than scruff but not enough to classify as a beard, is dark. His skin has the tan of someone who works outside during the day. His chest still in a white blouse had the few top buttons undone, revealing a peek at a dark spraying of hair. His hair is thick, tousled in a way that females associated with sex.
But it is his eyes she finds herself meeting. They are a blue only found around tropical islands, clear and surreal in their colouring. Inviting yet cool. He moves with fluidity and passion, as if he is making love to the beat of the song.
His hands come up to the top of his shirt. Emma feels herself tense in anticipation. Her eyes fixed on the patch of dark hair. He yanks and in one movement his shirt open.
His skin stretches over the smooth lines of his muscles. The dark hair that covers his chest, trails down his stomach, disappearing at the edge of his pants. There, they hung loosely on his hips, revealing the prominent 'v' of his pelvis.
Emma shifts in her seat. This man was attractive in a way that it almost hurt to look at him.
Her eyes meet his again. Emma feels the flush of her cheeks reddening. A small sly smile crosses his lips and he winks at her. She hurriedly looks down at her lap.
The number finishes and Emma finds herself being able to breath normally again. Pull yourself together, she chastises herself. With a small shake of her head, she downs the rest of her drink and rises to get another round.
By the time she comes back to their table with new drinks the next act has started. It seemed it was solo time. The next few went smoothly. Emma can feel herself relaxing, as the night goes on, and the alcohol buzzing around her system made everything seem a hell of a lot better. She finds herself in a fit of laughter when a stripper grinds up on an unsuspecting Mary Margaret, and carries her onto the stage, fireman style. Emma and Ruby cheer on as their friend is seated on a chair in the middle of the stage. She couldn't remember ever seeing Mary Margaret that red before.
The announcer introduces the last act. His voice and the description sending a shiver of excitement, through Emma. "He is the ruthless, yet seductive Captain of the Jolly Roger".
The lights drop and a spotlight points at a screen on stage. Emma can only make out the outline of a man. He wears boots, large long coat with a high collar and a hook in place of a left hand.
The lights slowly come back on, revealing more and more of the mans appearance, bit by bit. The screen lifts. Emma can see dark messy hair and tight leather pants. Dark scruff over his chin, a red vest over a black top which has the first few buttons open gives a prime teasing of a defined chest dusted with hair.
She knows who it is before he lifts his head and his eyes meet hers.
His smile is in no way welcoming, but that just adds to his attractiveness. He looks menacing and dangerous and, god, was it a turn on. He strips his coat off slow. Tauntingly. Letting it drop to the ground before making his way to the edge of the stage. His hook raised, he approaches an audience member and runs it slowing over her collar bone, a deadly smirk on his face. Emma isn't sure if he wants to stab or make out with the girl. He does neither, instead he stands and rips off his vest. The black tunic he wears now is loose and hangs off his frame perfectly.
Emma is mesmerized by his movements which are so precise. He slowly drags his hook down the front of his shirt. The material is slashed easily. Emma takes a sharp breath in. He makes his way down the stage discarding his boots. The knot in her stomach grows more persistent as he gets rid of more clothes. She watches as he ran his hand over his hip bones to the front of the leather pants. With a cheeky smile he pulls at the buttons at steps out of them revealing a tight pair of underwear.
He steps off the stage right in front of Emma. He raises his hook, running his nose over the cool metal his eyes trailing over her body. He licks his lips. His face speaks volumes about what he could do to her, what he wants to do. He steps up right beside her. He runs the back of the hook down her cheek, she shivers at the contact, her breath catching in her throat. He hooks it on the back of the chair, straddling her. She can feel the warmth of his body in the small space of air that separates them. She can smell him. There is the saltiness of sweat, the linger of the leather, and what she thinks is whiskey. He moves on top of Emma, his body only just touching hers every now and then. Her head reels, the lack of contact driving her insane. He eases back away from her. She opens her mouth, the heat of his body immediately missed, but it is cut short when he wraps his arms around the chair and lifts it up, with her in it. Her legs rest on his shoulders. She can feel his breath on her upper thigh. Emma isn't sure whether she should be happy or upset that she was wearing jeans. He drops the chair catching her arse before she begins to fall. He lays her down on the stage. His body immediately covering hers. He slides his body across hers. He does almost a worm-like movement over her. The crowd cheers around her but she can hardly hear it. Her blood bangs in her ears, a deafening beat.
Emma lets out a yelp when he runs his hook down her cheek, across her collarbone, and then down the front of her shirt. He trails it over the small amount of skin that is showing between the hem of her shirt and jeans. The cool metal makes her gasp as he runs it across her hip. In one fluid motion, he sits up pulling her onto his lap.
"When I stab you with my sword, you'll feel it" he growls in her ear. Emma gasps, the desire in his voice almost seeming to resonate through her body as she shivers again. He stands, her legs wrapping around his waist, and he takes her back to her seat. Slowly, he moves away towards the back of the stage. There, her raises his hook, winks, and disappears as the music stops.
Emma is breathing heavily, her head spinning, and not from the alcohol. She stares at the place where he disappeared.
"Emma!" Ruby's amused voice breaks her out of her strange trance. Emma's head whips towards her friends whose faces are split by huge grins. "That was… well, I need to take a cold shower. That's pretty much the only way to describe that," Ruby says, fanning herself with a menu.
Mary Margaret laughs and nods in agreement. The two girls stand and Emma follows on auto pilot. She buries her hands into her back pockets. She stops and glances around, he leans against a wall by the stage. Their eyes meet and he smiles softly at her. Mary Margaret grabs Emma's arm pulling her into the crowd and out of the club.