Thank you for reading and thank you again to impish_dragon for the prompt. Check out the LJ community dyson-kenzi if it interests you and write! There needs to be more Dyson/Kenzi fanfiction out there. Warning—descriptions of nudity, no sex.

It's been weeks since Dyson saw Kenzi at the Dahl, and he still can't get the smell out of his mind. Honeyed wine maybe, like nothing else. Kenzi looked at him like he was nuts when he asked her about it. Said she doesn't know any strange Fae (well no stranger than the rest of them) aside from Vex, and Dyson knows the scent can't be coming from the Mesmer.

The scent still surrounds Kenzi, fits around her like a glove, so Dyson stays with her. The smell confuses him, but there's something familiar about it, which has him worried. Kenzi's the smallest, the most vulnerable of the group, and a soft target. She's brash and thinks she can handle herself, but there are Fae out there that would eat her alive. If that scent belongs to a threat, she could be in serious trouble.

He stays around Kenzi, just to make sure. Even agrees to help them on this very human mission—a missing stripper at a local club. Bo is undercover at the bar, and Kenzi is somewhere around here. Bo had called him and said that they needed someone to pose as a customer. He smiled at the cocktail waitress, a cute red head with a red fringe dress, but the gesture is hollow. Dyson hasn't slept around since Ciara died.

Lauren has stopped in at the club, looking completely out of place in her beige cardigan and brown pants—almost suburban mom-ish and Dyson shakes his head. Bo has just been feeding off of Lauren and it's only a matter of time before that comes back to haunt her. Succubae aren't meant to be monogamous and they can starve if they don't feed, but Bo desperately wants to prove her loyalty to the human doctor.

Dyson's attention is caught by something at the edge of the stage, a slight flash of skin, milky white in the darkness. He's always been good for details, but it's gone before he can see anything more. Soft, white skin.

There is a screech of microphone and the music stills.

"Please welcome to our stage, the newest act at LA Nights, Dawson!" The announcer calls, and the lights come up on the stage. Her skin is smooth and her body small, but she walks like she knows what she's doing. Just the sight of her is enough to get Dyson's blood pumping in ways he hadn't realized he still could. Her head is obscured by a bright blue wig before she turns to the light, large doe eyes looking up.

It's Kenzi.

Dyson wants to look away. This is the girl who is his friend, practically a sister, but he can't think like that when she takes off the first layer of fabric, a beaded wrap from her hip. She's meant to look like some old-fashioned burlesque dancer from the 20's, an era he remembers, but with blue hair. She's wearing a pair of boots he recognizes, tall four or five inch heels with large buckles, and he tries to focus on that when she stalks across the stage to the pole.

A man across the room cat-calls, and Dyson looks back to Kenzi. The way the light is on the stage, it's almost as though she's dancing just for him. He can smell and hear everyone else in the room, but the sight of her is so riveting it's impossible for him to look anywhere else. Kenzi's lips quirk into a smile as she slides her back down the pole, her knees firmly together and her chest still covered by a bedazzled bra. She's playing at chaste, even when she opens her legs for a quick peak at her underwear.

She's having fun, and he memorizes the curve of her smile, the dip of skin along her hip bone. She's wearing a pair of long blue gloves, their silkiness a perfect pair for her skin. He's infatuated with the site of her.

She loses the bra with a flourish, but her gloved hands still hide her breasts from view. She shakes her head coquettishly and he groans. How had he not seen before how beautiful she was? So enticing. She takes away her hands and it's all he can do to not run onstage and take her then. She's just wearing those gloves, the boots, and a skimpy pair of underwear before she grabs the pole and swings around.

She's so lithe, and he remembers that from the time Kenzi had him teach her how to punch, how her body had felt against his, so small but so tough. The music stops an Kenzi rushes over to the edge of the stage to collect the dollar bills that have been thrown her way. She smiles really quickly at Dyson before rushing backstage.

He has no idea what he's going to do now.

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