-I am extremely excited about this fic, I cannot even explain. This is a sequel to my old story The Boy Next Door, because come on. Stripper!Minho needs to be written about more. Also, this will be rated M later for certain reasons, so yeah... ;)
I hope you like it! This is part one :)-
-DANCE FOR ME-
It had taken Newt a ridiculous amount of time to work himself up to do this and he was still nervous as hell. It was one thing for a shy librarian to venture out of the house for a couple of dates with his neighbor. It was quite another for that shy librarian to venture to that neighbor's place of work, which happened to be a strip club.
Newt was at a strip club.
He couldn't remember why he'd thought this was a good idea.
"Holy shit, Newt, look at that guy," Teresa hissed from behind him, trailing along with a dumbstruck expression glued to her face. Oh yeah, and Newt had brought along one of his close friends for moral support. He wasn't sure why he'd thought THAT would be a good idea either. "Oh my god, his abs... I think I'm dying."
"Just—be quiet, Teresa," Newt muttered. "I gotta find Minho and I can't concentrate with you gushing about guys all night."
"Okay, you're the one that took me, a single dance teacher, to a STRIP CLUB," she pointed out, giving him that this-is-all-YOUR-fault look through her blue eyes. "What did you expect me to do, sit in the corner?"
He rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. "No, of course not," he answered. "But you gotta be quiet so I can think."
"Good luck," she scoffed, crossing her arms and surveying the club again. "I know I'm not gonna be doing much thinking with these guys around."
It would've been nice if Teresa would sit in the corner, actually. Maybe then he wouldn't be blushing like a moron from all her suggestive comments about the people around them. Not that he blamed her.
The club was dim, lit by multicolored lights piercing the darkness and illuminating tables, customers, and...erm...dancers. Newt shoved his hands into the pockets of his pale blue jacket and fought the urge to keep his eyes trained firmly on the floor. He couldn't help but be unbearably chaste in this situation; the guys in here were absolutely sinful. He glanced to his right and glimpsed a gorgeous redhead, hair swept back and rumpled as he straddled another boy in his chair. The other boy was just as stunning too, with dark curls falling across his forehead and eyes like liquid gold. A smirk danced across his lips, as the redhead circled his arms loosely about his shoulders and proceeded to roll his body from chest to hips in a way that had Newt's heart flopping over. Shit, everyone in here was so shucking hot and God, what he was must look like right now...
"I gotta tell ya, Newt," Teresa piped up again, "if your boyfriend really works here, you're gonna become the luckiest son of a bitch I know."
"He does work here," Newt replied.
"How do you know?"
"Um, he told me."
"Maybe he was lying so you'd fall for that bad boy stripper idea or whatever." She shrugged, fingers fiddling with the tiny golden heart pendant around her neck. "You never know. Guys tend to be stupid liars."
Newt sighed. "Teresa, he's—"
"I'd like to think I'm not stupid or a liar." The voice came from so close to them, that Teresa jerked and Newt actually squeaked. Heart pounding, he realized that it was just another dancer. Then he did a double-take. He was unfairly beautiful, this guy, with short black hair spiked at the front and wearing a tank top that was much too tight. Newt could see the places where the stars-and-galaxies style tattoos slithered up his arms and crept over his chest under the white fabric. They were incredible, and distracting, and he should definitely not be looking at this person like this because he was not Minho.
Newt, ever-eloquent, thought of something to say. "Um."
"Oh, hey!" Teresa waved at the dancer with too much enthusiasm and slung her arm across Newt's shoulders. "My buddy, Newt here and I were just looking for a friend of yours. Thank god you showed up, because we're having a hard time finding him, let me tell you. Also, sorry about the stupid lying men thing earlier and may I just say that you are the hottest thing in here?" That girl didn't even blush.
The guy grinned, teeth white with adorable dimples. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself, sweetheart."
"Ohmygod," Teresa muttered under her breath to Newt and he mentally shot himself. Great, now he was about to lose Teresa to some stripper. He was never going to find Minho at this rate.
"I'm Aris," the guy went on, thumbs hanging from his front pockets. "Who're you guys looking for?"
Newt brightened. "Oh, he's—"
"Hi, I'm Teresa," Teresa cut in, sticking out her hand for a handshake. "This is my friend Newt. Nice to meet you."
Amused, Aris accepted her hand, but instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips. Teresa's lips parted as he lightly kissed her knuckles. "Nice to meet you, Teresa," he replied, voice lower and brown eyes much too seductive for a first meeting.
Giving a shaky laugh, Teresa tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, feet shifting. Dear lord.
Newt cleared his throat. "Um, I'm looking for Minho? He said he'd be here...?"
To his surprise, Aris' eyebrows rose in recognition. "Minho? So that must mean you're the librarian."
Newt found that the English language escaped him for the moment. "...he...he talks about me?" he stammered.
"All the time," Aris answered, his smile genuine and even more heartbreaking than the first. He bobbed his head back toward an area farther in the club. "He's back there, probably with Brenda. She likes to visit a lot. You can't miss him."
"No, you can't," Newt agreed under his breath. Out loud, he said, "thanks. I'm gonna head over, then. Teresa?" He turned to his friend, who looked as though she might faint from ogling Aris. "Are you okay over here?"
Before she could answer, Aris spoke up. "I'll take care of her." Teresa blinked at him and he gave a wink that could probably stop hearts.
"I think I'm good over here," she told Newt, unable to hide her coy smile. "Have fun."
"Yeah, okay." Newt shook his head at her. "You make sure you don't have TOO much fun, all right?"
"Oh, please." Cheeks turning pink, she playfully shoved him away. She was going to get herself into some trouble tonight, if she got in too deep with Aris. But she could handle herself and besides, this was a strip club. She was supposed to have fun.
Newt headed off alone, his stomach alive with butterflies at the prospect of finding Minho. He just hoped he didn't make a fool of himself.
-X-X-X-
"Have you ever been to a strip club before?"
"No." Teresa walked along behind Aris, her stomach fluttering and her heart in chaos. She'd never seen anything like him, with the outline of black wings tattooed on his back and a voice that made her toes curl. She could've walked beside him, she supposed, and had his arm around her waist. But she appreciated the view from back here and kept sneaking glances at his ass in those tight jeans.
He looked at her over his shoulder. "Might be a good thing, actually," he said, surprising her.
"Why?"
"Guys in here would be all over a girl like you."
Sheepish under the praise, she smoothed down her red pleated skirt. She'd wanted to look nice tonight, because of where Newt had said they'd be going, and the skirt was paired with a black V-necked shirt. She was definitely glad she'd worn it. "Thanks." Gazing around them once more, she caught sight of a fiery-haired boy rolling his hips atop another guy. She stopped walking for a second, making Aris pause beside her. "Do you get guys in here too?" she asked.
"Only once in a while," Aris answered. "When we do, we make sure they get Minho or Gally; they're okay with performing for guys." He pointed at the pair she was watching. "Those two work here, actually. Max and Brian. They've been dating for a month now and when they don't have a client to entertain, they entertain each other."
Teresa now noticed the goofy way the brunette smiled when the redhead whispered something in his ear. She fought the urge to give a little "aw." Two strippers in love. How romantic. She gave Aris a sideways glance. "What about you then?" she asked teasingly. "You just dance for the girls?"
His eyes twinkled under the lights. "Maybe." Then he moved closer to her, a hand settling at the small of her back and his lips grazing her ear. "But tonight I just dance for you."
She fought the shiver that ran down the length of her spine. "Don't I have to pay you for this?"
"Do you mind paying?" he asked, husky and while he traced his nose along the curve of her ear. Dammit, he was not playing fair.
She knew she sounded breathless, but it was hard not to. "I don't mind."
His lips curved upward and he pulled lightly at the back of her shirt. "Come with me, then," he murmured. "I think you'd like it better if we weren't in front of people."
Her skin tingled at the idea of having him all to herself, alone. She didn't pull away when he guided her toward a discreet door tucked into the wall. "A private show?" she joked. "My my, I'm honored."
"You should be." His grin hinted at everything that could happen behind a closed door and then more. "Normally we charge extra for this, but I'm thinking of making an exception." He opened the door for her first, revealing a room dim like the rest of the club and furnished with black furniture.
Teresa stepped inside, suddenly unsure. She had no clue what one did while a stripper gave a private show. Like, did she sit down? What did she do with her hands? Was she supposed to say something? COULD she do things with her hands? And now she was imagining putting her hands on Aris, damn.
"Uh." She turned to face him, the door already closed and sounds of music filtering in from outside. "I don't know what I..."
He chuckled at her as though expecting this. Gentler than she'd thought he'd be, he took her shoulders in his hands and guided her back toward a couch at one wall. "It's easy, sweetheart. Just sit and let me do all the work."
"Oh," she managed, as she perched at the edge of the couch. Then there was a much weaker "oh" as he rested a knee on the cushion, next to her leg and stood in front of her in all his glory. He ran a hand over his hair, a half-grin playing on his mouth.
"You might wanna sit back," he murmured, pushing her softly against the back of the couch. Then in a smooth motion, he straddled her lap.
"Okay," she stammered. Her face was heating up, now that he was actually here and actually playing with a strand of her hair, twirling it around his index finger. She watched him run the strand between finger and thumb until it slipped out of his grasp. She'd never wanted so badly to experience what that piece of hair just experienced. "What do I do?" she asked suddenly.
"Anything you want." He braced a forearm against the back of the couch and bent over her, close enough to touch, to taste. "Except for one thing: you can only touch me when I let you."
She was going to hyperventilate in the next thirty seconds. "No touching unless you let me. Got it." Swallowing nervously, she gave a little wave of her hand. "Carry on then."
He laughed at that and it was a glorious dark sound. "We'll go slow," he said, skimming a fingertip down her arm. "Just until you're comfortable."
"Can we..." She almost didn't finish her sentence, as his fingers stopped tracing her arm and moved to splay across her side. "Can we still talk or something? So I don't feel weird?"
He replied with a brilliant smile. The beat of the music changed as a new song started and he gave an almost-experimental roll of his body over her, ending in his hips shifting atop hers to the sound of the music. It was the best three seconds of Teresa's life. "You've really never done anything like this?" he asked, hand falling from her side to rest behind him on her knee. The skin on skin contact sent sparks up her legs.
"Never," she admitted. Then she bit her lip when he moved again, liquid as water and tantalizingly close. "But I dance."
His eyes flickered. "Oh, really?"
"I teach at a studio in town," she told him.
"You'll have to show me."
"I thought you were supposed to be showing me." He raised his eyebrows at her and she just flashed him a smirk of her own. Her blood rushed in her veins when his gaze lingered on her mouth.
"You know, you're cute when you're nervous, but you're sexy when you're like this." That was when he left her with, before he took her wrists in his hands. She started unexpectedly. Then her mind short-circuited as he placed her hands on his chest. His skin was warm, even through his tank top, and her fingers barely brushed the lines of his collarbone. She gasped a little when his body undulated again to the beat of the song, and as it did, he ran her hands down the length of his torso. She felt every ripple beneath his clothing as he rolled his abs up into her palms and ended with her hands at his hips. She wasn't breathing now.
"Quiet all of a sudden?" he asked cheekily, still moving his hips, letting her fingers hook in his waistband and feel him move.
"I'm judging your dance skills," she returned. "And so far, I'm disappointed by what you've shown me."
He gave a huff of laughter and took her hands in his again. "No one's around to see you, remember? You don't have to lie to me." Winking slyly, he slipped her fingertips under his tank top. Teresa's throat closed up as he pressed her palms flat to his stomach. When he danced, she could feel the hard muscle flexing, feel the power in him and the hot skin against hers. She was absurdly pleased when he did the same move he'd done earlier, only this time sliding her hands up to his chest and bringing his shirt up with them. He left her hands on his chest as he reached back, arms flexing deliciously, and caught the back of his shirt; her breath caught as he pulled it off and tossed it away onto the couch next to them.
The black night sky, studded with stars and twisting universes, was inked onto his skin, trailing off before reaching his stomach. Her fingers were touching it now and she traced a crescent moon in wonder. "Like them?" he asked, noticing her small touches.
"They're beautiful," she told him, not meaning to ruin the mood by becoming serious.
But Aris didn't seem to mind. His mouth quirked at the corners and those dimples of his surfaced under her words. More importantly, he didn't stop dancing, hips nearly grinding into hers, coaxing her hands back down his stomach. He guided them down to the sides of his hips, over the denim of his jeans and every motion was like a statement against her palms.
"How am I doing now?"
"Better." She'd admit that, at least. She wasn't sure if her heart was still beating or not. She was beginning to realize that she wanted him too much, this amazing amazing stranger. She had to bite her tongue over a whine when he shifted forward on her lap, so that if she leaned forward an inch she was tempted to run her tongue up his abs. Which she most certainly was.
"This whole no-touching-unless-you-let-me rule sucks," she said aloud, flat.
"You're lucky I'm letting you touch me at all," he replied. "Most of the time, I hate when I have girls throwing themselves at me."
"Yeah, right."
"No, seriously. Imagine constantly having a guy trying to put his hands on you while you work."
"It'd be awesome."
He snorted in a manner that suggested he hadn't expected her to make him laugh like this. It felt warm in her and like she was special, which she knew she wasn't. She couldn't be, not when tons of girls had had him in their laps or even in their beds. She didn't know if he was the kind of guy to take a girl home, but he was a stripper for God's sake. It was practically his job to show a girl a good time.
Teresa tried to focus on that, because she didn't want to have herself doing anything stupid, like thinking she wanted to seriously find this guy again and go on an actual date. It would never happen. But focusing was becoming hard, especially when he did things like nose at her hair. "You're a dancer, huh?" he asked and she nodded wordlessly. His words were tinged with play. "Then technically, you could've worked here."
"I don't think so," she laughed.
"You sure?" He rested one of her hands on his side and then slid the other around to his ass. Teresa's mouth went dry. He was rolling his hips again and every fluid motion of it felt like magic under her hands. She had the awful urge to feel that without his jeans in the way.
"Are clients not supposed to want to kiss strippers?" she asked breathily, head tipped up to see his face.
"Yeah, kissing isn't typically part of the show." He licked his lips, bumped his forehead against hers with his next body roll, and one of his hands abandoned hers to caress her cheek. His thumb dragged across her bottom lip and she sucked in a sharp breath. "You can kiss me," he murmured lowly. Mischief entered his gaze. "But it'll cost you extra."
"Bastard," she muttered. His thumb was still on her lip. Testing her boundaries, she took it between her teeth and let her tongue graze his skin.
The way his smirk was wiped right off his face made it worth it. "C'mere," he whispered, and he buried his fingers in her hair as he pulled her mouth onto his.
It was like her world lit up. All of her self-control was destroyed by his lips on hers, teasing hers apart. He tasted sweet and tempting, much too tempting. But she tilted her head up into it anyway and kissed him back with just as much eagerness. She hadn't thought he'd want her like this, but he was breathing heavily, both of his hands tangled deep in her hair now. When she parted her lips for him, he finally moaned as he tasted her tongue on his. She forgot about the can't-touch-until-he-let-her rule. She splayed both hands on his ass, tightened her grip, and listened to him gasp. He ground his hips down onto hers again, this time with every intention of making her whimper.
"Guess I'm allowed to touch you now?" she asked mischievously, breaking the kiss as he moved his lips down her jaw. Her head fell back as he kissed at her neck, sucking on her skin.
"You can do whatever you want to me, sweetheart," he breathed.
She almost groaned at the thought. Her hands traveled up his back, worshipping the lines of muscle there. She ached to see the tattoo of the wings and maybe trace the feathers with her tongue. Then she felt him drop his hands to her hips. "But first, I wanna see you dance," he teased. His grip on her was strong enough so that when he flipped over, he could heft her up onto his lap. Teresa yelped at the sudden change of position, grabbing onto his shoulders as he sat back on the couch. She glared down at him. So they were gonna play that way, huh?
"What makes you think I wanna dance for you?" She asked it casually, tugging down the hem of her skirt to make sure she was covered while straddling his hips. His eyes followed her motions as she then reached up to smooth her hair back.
"You would've left if you didn't," he replied. His thumbs rubbed circles into the place above her waistline, over her shirt. She bit back a plea for him to touch her skin on skin.
"Fair enough." Teresa set her hands at his shoulders and pretended to think. "Now, what was that move you did?" She smirked down at him and then circled her hips once. It was fluid, because she had of course danced before and the moves, though on someone's lap, were basically the same. Aris looked as though he wanted to ravish her right there. When she moved again, he huffed out, "Teresa," and slipped one of his hands toward her thigh. She caught it immediately and placed it back at her hip. "Remember?" she grinned. "No touching unless I let you."
"You—" He broke off as she ducked down and pressed their mouths together again. He didn't try to speak then. It was a desperate, hungry kiss and he sucked on her bottom lip when she tried to pull away. It was undoubtedly sexy and she mewled into his mouth. She ran her fingers through his hair, not caring if she messed it up, hoping she messed it up. She wanted him to look like he'd been made a mess by her.
Teresa ended the kiss and Aris made a rough noise of disappointment. But then she grabbed him by the wrists and placed them up on her shoulders. She did the same body roll motion he had, running his hands down her torso. But it was decidedly more intimate; she dropped her head back when his palms passed over the curves of her chest and then her stomach. Aris inhaled sharply, not expecting her to let him touch her in such a way but not complaining nevertheless.
"Aris?" she asked, caught by how edible he looked under her.
"Yeah?"
"Are clients not supposed to want their strippers like this?"
"That's kinda the point."
"Then are they not supposed to actually do something about it?"
"That isn't typical, no." Then he cracked a joking grin. "That's gonna cost you extra too."
He just couldn't resist. "You son of a bitch," she growled, and then their mouths were crushed together and she was really kissing him now, clutching his shoulders in an iron grip. He tugged her shirt out from where it'd been tucked into her skirt and ran his hands up her back. His touch on her bare skin was electrifying. She arched her back under his palms, let him feel the way her body moved. His fingers followed the bend of it, shaping to her spine and the dimples above her hips. She couldn't remember the last time she'd wanted someone to touch her so badly.
"So, you think I'd make a pretty good stripper," she whispered to him, daring to fiddle with the button of his jeans.
"Yeah," he breathed back. All of his attention was taken by her undoing the button at his waistband. But then she took her hands away, enjoying his disappointed growl.
"But don't strippers have to also be good at, you know, stripping?" Teresa let him think about that for a moment as she reached for the hem of her shirt. Aris' eyes widened the smallest bit, his hold tightening on her waist. She didn't miss the slow burn that appeared in his gaze when she stripped out of her shirt and left it piled on top of his. She was really fitting into the whole stripper feeling tonight, in a bra of crimson lace and with her diamond belly button piercing on display.
Aris looked like his lungs had ceased to work. "I didn't know you had a piercing," he said dumbly.
"Sweetheart," she mocked, "there's a lot of things you don't know about me." She liked this. She felt more confident, now that she knew that she could shake him up. With no warning, she bent to kiss his neck, sealing her lips across his skin and tasting the dark taste of him. He smelled gorgeous and she hummed appreciatively into his shoulder. His head tipped back on its own as she made her way down his chest, mouthing across his skin. Her hands rested on his thighs, teasing through the denim, and he whimpered when she licked down his abs. He was just as delicious as she'd thought he'd be.
"Resa," he gasped and she immediately loved the nickname.
"Hmm?" Innocently, she peered up at him from between his legs, fingertips playing with the zipper of his jeans.
"I'm not supposed to do this in here." There was a suggestion of worry that meant he could be in trouble if they were found out. But there was also the undeniable want that he wasn't bothering to hide.
Pushing herself up, Teresa glided back up his stomach and chest to meet him nose to nose. She grinned when his eyes roved over her instead of staying on her face. "You don't have to do anything," she reminded him, "if you don't want to."
His eyes darkened. "Teresa."
He had her by the hips before she could move. Lifting her up, messily kissing between gasps, and laying her out along the length of the couch. The fabric was smooth and soft beneath her back and Teresa squirmed against it in satisfaction, simultaneously pressing her hips up against his. The expression on his face, the flash of pleasure there, made her knees weak.
If she'd been standing, her knees would've given out entirely when he began trailing tongue and lips down her collarbone. She inhaled sharply, instinct making her thread her fingers into his hair. Her teeth clamped down on a moan when he kissed along the curves of her breasts above her bra. When he worked his way down her stomach, his hands replaced his mouth, cupping her breasts in a way that had her biting down on her bottom lip. "Aris," she exhaled, arching up into his touch.
"Already saying my name like that?" he asked, voice vibrating against her stomach. "I didn't even start yet."
Teresa thought about a witty comeback to say, but it died when he pulled her belly button piercing into his mouth and sucked. Holy hell, she'd never known how sexy that could look until he did it. And, dear lord, he glanced up at her, dark eyes sinful. "God, you're so damn—" she stopped before she could say anything that would embarrass her.
"Go on, don't let me distract you." Aris shot her a cocky grin. Then he slipped down even farther on the couch and she felt him reach into her skirt. His fingertips skimmed up her thighs, making her shudder all over. It only grew worse when he found the lace waistband of her underwear and hooked his thumbs into it.
"Ohh..." The sound slipped out of her on its own as he peeled the fabric down her legs, taking his time. He touched small kisses to her skin as he went, lips soft. She felt vulnerable as soon as he abandoned the clothing on the floor. But the desire she felt for him overpowered all other senses and she focused on that as he ran his hands along her legs. It was like he wanted to touch all of her, worship every inch of her, but he had to settle for this. Teresa wished that they were somewhere else, where he could give her all the attention he wanted to.
"I hope you're not loud," he joked, dropping a kiss on her knee. "Because these walls aren't exactly soundproof."
Propping herself up on her elbows, she arched a brow. "You're assuming you can make me get loud," she pointed out drily.
"I'm not assuming." The look he gave her went straight through her, turning her insides to jelly. Slow, he started pressing kisses to her thigh, moving toward the hem of her skirt. It was torturous and she nearly dropped her head back onto the couch again. But she had to watch, had to see it when he draped her legs over his shoulders and slid his fingers along her thighs. He wrinkled her skirt around her hips and made the softest sound against her inner thigh.
Teresa nearly buckled right then, as Aris ran his tongue from thigh to knee and then slanted a glance her way from autumn-colored eyes. Then he was kissing back down her other leg and dammit, it was too slow and her fingers were already clenching in the couch cushions. "Oh god," she managed, when his breath fanned across her inner thighs.
He made a noise then, close to a pained whine. There was sudden seriousness in his words when he spoke. "Listen, before I... Um, you just tell me if you wanna stop, okay?"
"Fineokay," she stuttered out.
"I'm serious, Resa, if you wanna—"
"Aris." She sent him a glower through sparking azure eyes. "If you don't do something right now, I'm going to leave and I'm not coming back."
Aris' lips tipped into a raunchy grin at that. "Point taken, sweetheart."
