Title: Black Honey

Summary: "And as for tonight's last show, we present to you the one and only Black Honey!" the man shouted. The curtain parted and from the back stage, appeared a pale-skinned man in black attires which would be soon taken off. And Aster's breath hitched.

Pairing: Rotten Egg

Rate: T for a bit suggestive theme and a bit description of pole dancing, rating may go up.

Disclaimer: Not mine. There, you happy? *cries in the corner*

Pointless Rambling: Now, have I told you how much I'm dying to see Pitch as a stripper?

Many things inspired me to make stripper!Pitch. Two of them are tediz-leader's 'Bad Moon', and somehow the film 'Rage'. I made it in Indonesian, and then I promised tediz-leader that I would translate this. So, here it is.

I hope you like this, darling~!

Enjoy~! :D


Colorful lights illuminated the place, though not so well that the place was still dim. The heavy sound of bass filling his ears and it thumped against his chest. A young woman threw him a seductive smile, lowering her body to show her full breast behind the meager clothes she put on. There were hands trying to drag him to the dance floor. Another young woman leaned on him and dragged her palm along his chest while attempting to undo the buttons of his loose shirt. He held her wrist and smiled awkwardly and kept on walking through the mass of people scattering choking smell of cologne and perfume.

On the corner of the room, on a round table surrounded by plush, comfortable looking seats, was his brunette friend who called him to come here.

"D'ya have any explanation fer this, Jack?" he asked gruffly, mostly because Jack had just ruined his chance to meet up with the reporter he had set his eyes on since sometimes ago. Well, it wouldn't be too hard to get another chance, considering the similarities of their profession. But, hey, what did this little shrimp know about hooking up a fine, young lady, anyway?

"Last night, I got a wet dream and I want to be surrounded by beautiful women or maybe men?" Jack answered, face was as innocent as he could manage, a lazy smile splayed across his lips. Both of his hands propped his chin on the table, next to his elbow was a glass of 'Sex on the Beach'.

He rolled his eyes. "Very funny, mate."

The blue eyed brunette's smile only grew wider. "Of course, don't you remember that I am the agency's number one ice breaker?" Jack replied while patting the sat next to his. "Just keep me company tonight, Asty. You're grieving too much on your and Rosie Hudson's crash and burn relationship."

"I ain't grieving on nothing."

"But you are at least grieving on the fact that people, and Rosie too, just threw it all on you in the gossip show yesterday, aren'tcha?"

He only sighed, long and heavy, and eventually gave up. Jack wouldn't let him live his peaceful life. Not now, not ever. He flopped down on the seat, sulking.

Honestly, he didn't even like this place. He didn't like the upbeat song played to accompany the brunette woman's dance on the stage. He didn't like the dim light that just hurt his eyes the longer he was there. He didn't like the smell of sweat and the content sighs filling that room.

He wanted to go home. Now.

But it seemed that Jack just enjoyed torturing him too much. The brunette kept on ordering drink by drink so he could have a reason to stay. Drinks with low content of alcohol, maybe so he wouldn't get drunk and do anything stupid like getting on the table, standing on it, and letting the whole world know that he was Jack Frost pretending to be an ordinary brunette man by dying his hair brown with a temporary hair dye. Or maybe, it was because Jack just wanted to stay here longer and preserve his torture. Anyway, he was fed up.

"You're not going to drink, Asty?"

"Stop callin' me 'Asty', Frosty."

"Hmm… 'Asty', 'Frosty'… it rhymes, huh?"

He wanted to just sink into the earth's core right now. The too loud music was starting to do its damage and the singing of the redhead on the stage was starting to rub on him. There were at least three off notes by the first verse of the song, and it just became one off note to many that he stopped counting.

Really. When would Jack stop ordering the drinks or at least yawn and take him out from this place? Or if it was too much to ask, at least someone should tell him on what time this place was closed because there was no sign of it going to be closed soon. He was tired of sitting on his seat and the crowd only increased as time went by.

Good thing there was no paparazzi tailing on him. It wouldn't do any good on his name.

It was enough that one irritating woman named Rosie Hudson made him took all the blame. He didn't need any more bad-mouthing just because some smart guy just had to spread an exclusive shot with the words 'E. Aster Baskerville Pays a Visit to a Strip Club' printed on it just because Jack had to take him here.

Oh, come on! Why did the crowd only grow larger?

A man with odd make up hopped on the stage with a microphone on his hand. "And that is one sweet show from our own Fiery Poppy! Oh, isn't her voice just beautiful?"

Not for him, no.

The crowd cheered on the man's next sentence.

"And as for tonight's last show, we present to you the one and only Black Honey!" the man shouted. The curtain parted and from the back stage, appeared a pale-skinned man in black attires which would be soon taken off. And Aster's breath hitched.

A man? The closing show was a man? And what unnerved him the most was the thought of possibility of the crowd only grew larger just to see this man dancing.

Okay, the man was so thin. Granted, there was a light muscle definitions on his limbs, but he was still too skinny. He swore he could see the man's collar bones under his pale skin. He was also not as pretty—though if he was, it would be very odd—as the women entertaining the crowd earlier. He was too pale that he gave away an impression that his skin was grey; he didn't look healthy at all that way. His nose was a bit too long, his eyes were too cold—but he had to admit that it was perfectly half-lidded—and it was obvious to him (well, because he was used to make ups) that the a-little-too-thick make up was to cover the eye bags—from lack of sleep, maybe?—under his eyes, his lips were too thin and pale, and there were slight wrinkles on his forehead, maybe from too much scowling before the show. His neatly slicked-back black hair also didn't match with anything he was going to later that involved throwing off his clothing and dancing with the metal pole on the stage. It actually fitted him and his black crisp shirt, if only he didn't wear a pair of black boots and a pair of black hot-pants.

Overall, he couldn't say anything the man wore fitted him. A black shirt, a pair of black, abstract patterned, maybe elbows length, lace gloves, a golden-accented black garter belt with metal clasps, and a pair of black fishnet stockings. Somehow, they only made the man appeared… darker.

His thought was interrupted by the man-with-odd-make-ups' voice.

"Now, give applause for Black Honey!" he shouted before hopping down from the stage. Triumphant applause filled the room for a good moment and started to fade when the man raised an arm above his head, hooked it to the pole and brought his index finger on his free hand pressed it to his lips, gesturing the crowd to go silent.

Somehow, his eyes looked as if they were filled with liquid fire. Burning gold with flickers of silver.

His narrow hips swayed with the sensual music. His gloved hand started to undo the buttons on his shirt and he sensuously slipped it down and let it rest on his elbows, revealing his bony shoulder.

He thought he would see another patch of pale skin, but he was wrong. A small corset with red lace crisscrossing it cover a part of the flat stomach a little of the erotic dancer's chest

Cheering was heard as the black garment fell in a shapeless heap on the floor.

The man leaned on the pole, facing the crowd, and moved down oh-so-slowly as if he counted every single move. He squatted with widely opened legs, a sneaky hand belonged to a blonde man caressed his inner thigh and he snapped his legs closed with a smirk on his face, effectively trapping the hand between his thighs. He wiggled his finger, 'No, no, you naughty boy' it said, and he let the hand go—much to the blonde's dismay—while slowly standing up. Then he started to touch his body.

First, the thin hand caressed along the neck, and it was joined by the other hand when it reached the chest, and they went south further, to the narrow waist, hips, and he rolled his hips a bit, turning around to let the crowd enjoy the backside of his body, and he turned around again, a hand holding the pole while the other one moved across his thigh, then a little bit too close to his crotch.

A full turn of the body, a sway of hips, sensual lolling of his head, a view of his elegant neck, and waves of his hands hypnotized the crowd.

When the man's dance was finally over, Aster still felt that the man was too scrawny, his skin was too pale, his nose was too long, his lips were too thin and pale, also his eyes were too cold and his makeup was too thick.

And what bothered him the most was the fact that he didn't find those bothered him anymore.


End of Chapter 1


Like I said, I was inspired by tediz-leader's 'Bad Moon' and the film 'Rage'. Have you watched that film?

Well, you should. Just browse youtube with the keywords 'Jude Law' and 'Rage (2009)'. Jude Law is one sexy dame. Now, watch it and tell me he wasn't.

Tell. Me. I dare you.

And you should also see Graham Norton's show about the 'Sherlock Holmes' casts. You should see how Robert Downey just wanted to walk away when they compared him as Sherlock wearing woman's dress with Jude Law as Minx in 'Rage'.

Oh. That. Face.

Ahem. Well, I'm kinda getting out of topic.

Anyone cares to leave me review? :D

Love and honey~
Shirasaka Konoe