Warnings: It's super short and based on a song.

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This was not the first time he was here. He supposed that this was not going to be the last time either. This club is horrible, crowded and just as shitty as usual. It made him feel awkward every time he came to this awful place.

Why did he put himself through this pretentious torture? He knew his answer before he even thought the damn question. He knew it was that man. A man lighting fire to his world as he walked across the stage. Every Sunday night he would be here to see his performance. Like a routine sin you can't help commit. And fucking damn how he wanted to just ripped this man off the stage every time he watched yet he was too captivated in this performance to be as possessive as he'd like. Stuck there,no more like paralyzed by every hypnotizing movement. His hands held onto his drink as a safety line. Be calm Ivan. He told himself, shaking in nervousness and excitement as he downed burning drinks. He sat there heated to his very core and He wasn't sure what to blame…the music…the vodka…or those damn scorching eyes.

He could ignore this shitty club in all it's glory. He didn't pay any head to this dumb crowd. For the world stopped around him when that naturally tanned beauty walked to the center. Music changed, lights shifted, it was as if everything tethered with need to match him. Ivan watched as his blonde twisted around perfectly curved hips, bending that thin toned stomach. Hands waving forward beckoning him to come. To dare. Those thick thighs begging to be wrapped around Ivan's waist. He wanted desperately to just…..but he fucking couldn't

for this dancer always moved right through him. Past him. Like Ivan didn't exist to the other man.

Yet that didn't stop his mind from doing it for him. He could picture it clear as day. See hands grabbing his back pulling him closer while begging bedroom eyes and lustful lips fell in agreement, pleading for more. Ivan could feel teeth leaving ownership over flawless skin in his fantasy. A dark alley, A dance floor, a restroom stall. He couldn't care less where. Somewhere, Anywhere he wanted to take the man and watch as he melts in his arms into a puddle of satisfaction.

Before he knew it everything was over with a new dancer taking on the stage. Ivan hastily payed his for his drinks leaving to through the back entrance as usual. Every week on repeat. To catch one last pathetic look at his longing desire, who sits on a back wall in wait, dressed in normal everyday clothes. Who smiles at his friend or brother who picks him up to take home. and Ivan hates it watching them leave. Hates how much he needs this.

The same routine week after week.

Every Sunday…

A day Ivan hated and loved.

And it's a sin he repeats like clockwork.