A/N – I'll explain this later. This is my first time with this sort of thing so no promises on how good it is.
The Knotty Club
"Sam. Sam, wake up." Dean took his ice cold beer bottle and placed it against his brother's exposed neck. Sam spluttered and cursed and jerked upright, almost spilling off the couch he had been sleeping on.
"What the hell, Dean?' He smacked the bottle away, and Dean backed up, grinning.
"Get up; you're not going to believe what I heard about in town." Still smirking, Dean took a drink of the beer and set the bottle down on the table.
"What?" Sam asked. He stifled a yawn and rubbed at his neck; it was still sore from sleeping on the couch and tingling form Dean's stupid trick.
"I overheard a couple of guys talking about something called the Naughty Club." He paused for a reaction, but Sam just raised an eyebrow. Dean watched a moment longer, waiting, but it just got awkward. "Fine, don't get excited. Anyway, it's supposed to be a hot new strip club just outside of town."
"A strip club?" Sam asked slowly.
Dean nodded eagerly and gestured towards the door. "Yeah, come on. Let's go."
"I'm not going to a strip club with you, Dean."
"Come on, man. It'll be fun," Dean insisted, motioning for Sam to get his ass off the couch and out the door.
"No, I'm not going to the strip club with you," Sam repeated. He leaned his back against the cushions and kicked his legs up onto the coffee table, crossing his arms.
"I can't go to a strip club alone! That's just weird!"
"Then get Cas or someone to go with you, because I won't!"
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to. Because I'm tired. And seriously, Dean? The Naughty Club?"
Dean shrugged. "Sounds pretty cool to me."
"You think any strip club sounds cool," Sam pointed out.
The air pressure in the room dropped suddenly, and with a sharp rustling noise, Cas appeared between them. "Dean," he said urgently, his voice gravelly. "I have to tell you something."
Dean seized the opportunity. "Great, tell me in the car."
He spun around and walked quickly towards the door out of the bunker, trusting that Cas would follow him. The angel looked curiously at Sam who shrugged as innocently as he could, struggling not to grin. Best to let Cas figure this one out for himself.
In the dark garage, Cas finally caught up with Dean as he was unlocking the Impala, the large door opening itself with a mechanical groan. "Dean, it's important," Cas said, standing well within the bubble of Dean's personal space.
"Yeah, sure. Get in, and we'll talk."
Cas sighed and walked around the front of the car as Dean slid into the driver's seat. He gunned it as soon as the garage doors were open enough for the car to fit, the late evening spilling into the room. Cas barely had time to shut his door.
They roared out into the open air and bounced jarringly down the pitted drive until they hit the slightly smoother road. Dean slowly pushed down on the accelerator until the needle hovered around ninety mph.
"Should you be going this fast?" Cas asked, eyeing the speedometer.
Dean shrugged. "There's no one out here to catch me."
That wasn't exactly what the angel had meant.
"So what did you want to talk to me about?" Dean asked as he turned the wheel and led the car through a gradual turn. The scenery whipped past the windows.
"Oh," Cas said, struggling to remember. He had just noticed that Dean had forgotten to wear a jacket and that the t-shirt he was wearing showed off his arms very nicely. "I think I know where Crowley is."
"Really?" They had been looking for the demon for the past three months but with no cigar. "Where?"
"California. Apparently, he's at the beach."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Crowley? At the beach? Really?"
Cas made an affirmative noise at the back of his throat. He didn't know why Crowley would be there and he didn't really care.
"Well, we'll worry about that later," Dean decided. "We've got more important things to think about right now."
"Where are we going, anyways?" Cas asked.
The smile that crossed Dean's face worried the angel a little. "To a strip club."
Just over an hour later, the Impala roared into the sleepy, dusty town. Dean glanced briefly over the directions he'd gotten from the man who had told him about the club. Sam would never let him live it down if he knew, but Dean used directions a lot. It was a lot easier than figuring the way out by himself. And if he didn't, they would spend more time lost than saving lives. Luckily, Cas didn't know that men didn't use directions, so he said nothing.
They left the town limits and drove slowly along the dim road for maybe ten minutes until a hazy, neon red sign appeared in the windshield. That must be it, Dean thought. He turned onto the poorly maintained dirt road that led to the parking lot and found a spot, wincing at every butt-bruising jolt; this sort of thing wasn't good for his baby.
Dean and Castiel stepped out of the car, looking around. The lot held over twenty cars, crammed together in the small space. Dean saw battered pick-up trucks parked next to gleaming Porches and Priuses. There was even one of those tiny Smart Cars. At the far end of the lot was the club itself. It was a squat, wood and cement building that looked cheaply made and even more cheaply maintained, but typical club music and light blasted out of the smudged windows. It wasn't what Dean had expected, but then Dean didn't know what exactly he'd been expecting in the first place.
Then his eyes got past the glaring red lights and made out what the sign actually said.
The Knotty Club.
What?
He blinked and looked again in case he had misread it the first time, but no; it still said the Knotty Club.
What the hell did that mean?
On closer inspection, he saw that the letters were supposed to look like they were made out of string and the prongs of the K looked like pointy sticks.
"Uh, Dean?" Castiel asked.
Dean wrenched his eyes away from the letters. "What?"
"Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, sorry. Everything's fine. I just thought it was the Naughty Club not the…Knotty Club." He gestured vaguely at the sign.
"I don't get it," Cas said.
"There's two different spellings of the word," Dean explained. "Naughty, like, you know," he wiggled his eyebrows a couple of times and made a dirty face, expecting the angel to understand, "naughty."
Castiel stared at him blankly.
Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. "Doing bad stuff."
"Oh." Cas blinked a couple of times. Dean tried to read his face but got nothing.
"Well, and then there's 'knotty' as in tied up in knots," he finished, shifting on his feet a little awkwardly. "Come on, let's go."
He wasn't entirely sure if he still wanted to go in, but they were already there and he had nothing better to do. Besides, Sam would give him endless crap if he backed before he even left the parking lot.
Dean strode forward before he could think about it too much, forcing Cas to follow. The dry dust puffed up under his feet and coated his boots. "Dean?" Cas asked, sounding as nervous as Dean had ever heard him. He remembered the last time he had taken Cas to a strip club and how well that had turned out. "I'm not sure about this."
Neither am I, Dean thought, but he said, "Come on, man. It'll be fun."
Castiel didn't exactly look reassured, but he followed as Dean opened the heavy wooden door. A 'K' made out of needles like the neon sign was burned into the wood. Hard-core country music – something about driving tractors – poured out of the building, making Dean wince violently. He was sure his ears were going to start bleeding any second.
He took a deep breath to steel himself and stepped inside.
A pretty receptionist in black greeted them with a smile. She stood behind a small wooden desk beside a closed door. "Ten dollars each," she told them brightly.
Dean pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and shoved a twenty dollar bill at her. The receptionist took it smoothly, and the money disappeared behind the counter. Then she gestured at the door. "Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen."
Dean looked over his shoulder at Cas, who was wearing the same deer-in-the-headlights expression as the last time they'd gone somewhere like this, and opened the door.
They were hit with a wave of music, body heat, and arousal. The club looked just like any other. Circular tables covered the floor, filled with hooting, laughing men who threw fistfuls of money at the scantily clad women who stood before them or above them on raised pole platforms. Dean began to relax – it was just a normal club after all – until a stripper sauntered up to them to show them to their seats, and Dean saw what she was wearing.
Yarn. She was wearing yarn.
She wore a skimpy bikini that had been knitted out of rainbow yarn. Long, loose threads dangled from the top and fluttered around her flat stomach. The knitting needles K glittered in her navel, and a curling tattoo – some symbol Dean didn't recognize – poked out of her bikini bottom.
Dean stared. How did that work?
She smiled, sparkly lipstick catching the light. "May I show you to your seats?" She pitched her voice low, so Dean had to lean forward to listen.
"Uh." His usual suaveness disappeared as he tried to figure out how the hell the whole knitting thing worked.
The woman reached out and curled her fingers around Dean's shirt, bunching the fabric in her fist. She turned and walked away, leading him along behind, her hips swaying gently. Cas trailed at Dean's shoulder, invading his personal space.
By the time they reached a table ringed with low stools, Dean had regained his composure. He smiled at her as he sat down, positioning himself so he could lean back against the table. Cas perched stiffly on a second stool, looking awkward and ready to flee at any moment.
The woman smiled back and let go of his shirt to run her hand up his chest and across his cheek. Her skin was warm and smooth. A second stripper glided over, wearing a large, floppy, knitted sweater and no pants. The sleeves hung down her hands and loose threads dangled from all the seams. She ran one hand through Cas's hair – the angel sat rock still with wide eyes – and smirked at Dean.
She climbed onto the table slowly, revealing a flash of knitted panties. Dean turned in his seat to face her, wondering if the yarn was actually comfortable or it was itchy against her skin. The first stripper leaned against his back and distracted him with fingers in his hair and down his face.
The woman on the table reached up and grabbed on of the strings trailing from her collar. She gave it a tug and the tight weave began to come apart. A pale shoulder appeared as Dean watched, fascinated. The woman smiled and moved in closer, ignoring Cas since he was staring fixedly at a light on the ceiling.
She sat on Dean's lap, head tilted to the side, and pulled on a different string. The other shoulder began to unravel. Then she tugged gently on two of the bottom strands, hips moving gently against him. Her glittering belly button ring appeared as the sweater slowly become smaller and smaller, and a pool of yarn appeared in their combined laps.
The sweater was more than half gone, and Dean could see the lip of her knitted bikini. She took one of his hands and wrapped it around a set of three strings, just below her left breast. Dean pulled on them slowly, and the sweater came apart in his hand. He licked his lips and began to pull harder, faster. The rhythm of her swaying hips changed to match his unraveling, and Dean felt something hot ignite in his groin.
The woman leaned forward and draped her body across his chest, forcing him to let go of the strings and find another set on the back of the sweater. He ran one hand down the smooth skin of her back as the other pulled on the yarn. She bucked against him, and he would have fallen off the stool but for the second woman leaning against his back.
"We should get a room," the stripper in his lap whispered in his ear, nipping at it lightly with her teeth.
Dean closed his eyes and slid his hands under the remains of the sweater, massaging her skin. "How much?"
"200 dollars." Her hand found his crotch and squeezed, and he felt himself go hard.
Dean was tempted, badly. "Sorry, I don't have any cash," he answered, barely managing not to moan as the sweater crumbled completely away in his hands.
"Fifty dollars more and we could have a threesome."
The stripper behind him ran her yarn clad breasts temptingly across his back.
"Sorry," he breathed. "As much as I want to…" He trailed off as they bucked against him at the same time.
"But we would be so great together," she whispered. "Think of all the fun things we could do. We've got all this extra yarn…" She picked a wad of the multi-colored string up and began to drag it slowly across his face and through his hair. "We could tie you up, if you like, or you could tie us up…"
Dean didn't do bondage, but they made it sound so tempting and it was hard to think with one body pressing against his front and another moving against his back.
"I really can't," he managed. "I don't have any money, and there's my friend to think about."
"Who, him?" The stripper spared Cas a look over her shoulder; he had taken to examining his nails. "He can come too."
"No, he wouldn't like that. I'm sorry to let you down."
"Oh well." The stripper grabbed his face and looked into his eyes. "We'll let you go then. But, since we like you, we'll give you a taste of what you could have had."
She pulled his head into her chest and began to move her hips again, grinding against him in a powerful rhythm. The woman behind him dug her fingers into his shoulders and leaned down to bite at his neck and pull at his ears, hands still dancing through his hair. A hand slid under his shirt and rubbed up and down his front, pinching and tugging at his skin. It moved towards his pants, slipping under them for a moment before pulling away playfully.
Dean gasped and shuddered as the strippers gave one last, simultaneous thrust against him and then pulled away. The woman climbed off of him and gave him a pat on the cheek. "Your loss."
Then she and her friend sauntered off to find new clientele, leaving Dean with a pile of yarn and a raging erection.
Cas finally looked up from his lap and sighed in relief. "Can we go now, Dean?"
Dean stared at the angel, not entirely sure what he was seeing differently this time than he had before. All he knew was that Cas was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and that he wanted him.
Dean stood up from the chair and walked around the table towards Cas, trailing one hand across its wooden surface. Cas stood up, ready to go.
"Hold on a second," Dean said in a low voice, passing through Cas's nonexistent personal space button. He pressed himself against the other man and ran one hand down the other man's back. He placed his mouth against Castiel's ear. "How about you and I get a room?"
A/N – Let me explain where this came from. Two of my friends and I were doing group work in English, and one of them was knitting. Literally. The two of them both liked knitting and were talking about it. I was like…what? Somehow, the conversation got around to strip clubs, the two topics merged, and the Knotty Club was born. Yeah, I…I don't know. Reviews are welcome! Please remember, though, that this is my first time with this type of thing so I don't know much about it or about strip clubs.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll do a second chapter with Dean and Cas in their room. If you want. If not, this will just be a oneshot. I won't do the second chapter until I get a confirmation that someone wants it.
Peace out, bitches.