I'm useless when it comes to describing dance moves v_v so please deal with me...
"Impatient aren't we? But be assured everything will be worth your wait Mr. Brandt so get comfy and just enjoy yourself."
With measuring steps Pietro closed the distance to the older one, sitting down briefly on the arm of the chair and gently placed the whiskey tumbler into his clients hand. "Any wishes for tonight sir?" he smiled coyly, looking at the other through lowered lashes so he wouldn't feel threatened in his dominance through his raised position, "for the music I mean - it's your show so I'm in charge to make sure it's fitting your every wish."
William took a sip from the glass, savouring the taste of the beverage with a calculating look before he decided to not give into the teasing, "Well I think some classic rock will do.". The Sokovian considered his options for a moment - most clients didn't bother to really choose a song for the performance leaving it to the dancer to select a suitable one. The rest went straight for club music - heavy basses, changing rhythms, minimum vocals. But classical rock? Well he could work with it - he had to - and being honest to himself the unsual choice in music really didn't surprise him that much, his visitor seemed to be a unsual man as well.
"No problem at all, just give me a second," he rose from his seat, "accidently" brushing finger tips over the expensive suit fabric infront of him and went to the wall on the other side where the console for the music could be found. Pietro cocked his head slightly to the side while he flipped through the different menus, searching for the perfect track. It had to be sexy, a special nag to the whole thing but the rhythm shouldn't be too fast or too slow, something fitting to let the older man know he might be in charge of the moment but after all he ruled the stage. The show was completely on him, in his hands lay if this would be the best night of Brandt's life or well... he did sabotage a dance of his once but that guy (Strucker something?) had it coming being a major pain in the ass. A little lost in his thoughts the dancer suddenly stopped and his eyes flew over a title that brought a seductive smile to his lips, "I think I got one that you're gonna like Mr. Brandt!".
If the brunet said something it was lost in the first heavy riffs of the guitar of Joan Jett's "I love Rock'n'Roll". Yeah this was feeling good - he made his way to the pole, his hips rolling with the beat, the bass sending hot prickly energy through his body, urging him to move, bend, flex. Pietro took one last calming breath, reminding himself to stay in control of the special power hidden inside his body and grabbed for the metal bar, using it to pull himself up on the pedestal. Gracefully landing on his feet he surrounded it once before stopping right in front to face his visitor, arms up high over his head, his whole posture and visual screamed sin and sex. "Well we better get this party started, sir!" he disclaimed smiling mischievously and began moving to the beat. Feeling the small vibrations deep inside his muscles his hips barely grazed the metal behind him while he shifted in tune, all fluid seductive movements letting his body sway.
It was hilarious giving into this urge inside of him to never stop moving (go faster, longer, always wanting more) for a second time this night, adrenaline pushing his senses to a new high that the platinum blonde welcomed and simply let it take over, not caring for the time that flew by. Every fibre in his being was working now, helping him bend in ways only few others could, flexing his muscles during the movements under his tight clothing and thus making sweet promises of what could be. His arms were just as strong as his long legs, levering his body from the ground effortlessly, his tighs wrapped around the rod holding himself in place before artfully lowering him back down. His hands never ceased in their movements, enhancing his restless chase of getting a grip of the sexual tension in the room, fueling it even more by sliding over expanse of pale skin, over hard trained muscles, dipping under hems of clothing and caressing what lay underneath. His pulse hammered inside his blood, pushing him further and further, as he turned his head to his customer, flipping his white locks back in a wild movement and was rewarded - though the older man hadn't moved much he was grazed with a gaze you could simply describe as "eye fucking", dangerously sharp like the first time he saw him, as if he was ready to eat him alive - a hawk setting his eyes on a victim, playing with it for hours before ripping it apart. This shouldn't be sexy - Pietro was sure about this - but fuck he couldn't bring himself to care right now.
He twirled on the ball of his feet, then grabbing onto the hard metal again and circling it one, two, three times before landing in a perfect split on the cool ground of his stage. The song would soon be over he noticed - time for a "final touch".
Letting go of the pole and rising to his feet as the song slowly came to its end he flawlessy left the stage, a playful smile in place as he approached his client straight on, never breaking eye contact and put the barely touched whiskey glass aside before lowering down to his lap. The warmth of the other body seeping trough his clothes sent a pleasurable shiver over his body and well - he could tell that either Mr. Brandt hid a weapon in his pants or he was indeed happy to see him.
The last tunes rolled over them and he found himself face to face with the other man, looking into the grey (weren't they blue before?) eyes with warm breath tickling over his lips and soft stubble. His dominant hand lay gently on the attractively formed jaw and a broad grin fought his way to his face as he noticed the pretty strong hands on his behind. "Was this to your liking Mr. Brandt?"
He chuckled over the rough confirmation that left the others lips and slowly moved to stand up, the whole procedure somehow harder than it probably should be. They both stood and composed their outfits, so speedster noticed for the first time that he was a little taller than the other man. Somehow this created a satisfied feeling in his gut even if he couldn't point out why.
Like a spell being broken thee atmosphere had so suddenly changed from stimulating to... regretful to leave? Unwillingness maybe? But Brandt cleared his throat drawing his attention to him like a magnet. "Well kid at least they're right... you really know how to work that pole. You earned your share tonight."
All back to the business then - no problem he could do this as well. In the end it was probably stupid to think that there was like a strange connection... something different from his usual dances and the Sokovian refused to admit that it touched him in any way. As he reached out with a short shrug to grab the handle of the messenger bag now belonging to him, he found his wrist in a sudden strong but gentle hold and to startle him even more William placed a soft kiss directly over his fluttering pulse on the inside. Calloused fingers rubbed soothingly over his soft skin while he was caught in the intense gaze of the American again. "I mean it Pietro. You're a piece of art... I see forward to our next encounter."
Damn you heart didn't you just skip a beat at those words! The younger one denied this furiously but not finding the right words for an answer he simply nodded. The hold disappeared just like the mystery man and Pietro caught himself starring dumbly at the closed door even minutes after the other one had left. He shook his head and gathered the bag close to his chest. Trusting other people besides Wanda and his manager had always proved to be a mistake - and the last thing he needed now was trouble. Thinking of Wanda he cursed under his breath - he was supposed to be home an hour ago! Hastily he left the room, forgetting of this strange encounter for a little while.
He was around 16 when he realized they couldn't live like this anymore. They needed a safe, warm place to stay - something to come back to. His sister had recently discovered that she was different as well - moving objects with the power of her mind or creating smaller illusions to trick people - but it made her insecure and changeable in her moods, resulting in blasting all the windows in one of their hideouts when the now everconstant ache in the back of her head grew too strong. Pietro had always known that this day would come: they needed a place to stay with no fear of getting caught. They needed a home.
That was easier said than done. Both their papers were long over due and legally getting new ones was impossible at least for them. Also they had no save frequent income and who would rent a flat to 2 minors? Nobody as he found out very quickly, getting turned down at all possible places to find a decent shelter and it aggravated him to no end. Just as hard proved to be getting a legal job with sufficient payment, with the black market flowering under the circumstances of the neverending fights - making prices twice to thrice as high for certain things - and nobody was in a mood to give away more than necessary to avoid being stabbed in the back. That's how they had survived as well but it didn't make it easier to change their current life at all. But he had to keep trying.
In one of the quiet nights Pietro resigned to the fact that there was simply no chance he would be accepted to one of the normal jobs. There still was the opportunity to go to the red light districts - the blonde knew that people checked him out quiet often but the thought of those brutes touching him sent a cold shiver down his back. If he was lucky someone might hire him as a bouncer or maybe a waiter in the clubs there. Presenting the idea to his sister probably wasn't his best idea - she refused the whole plan immediately and god he hated himself for making her cry - but in the end she hesistantly agreed under the condition that he wouldn't sell his body and he declined her offer to help him raise the money. The last thing he wanted was to drag Wanda into this - she was supposed to get a better life than this and he'd move a mountain to make this happen.
"You're late!"
The blunt statement greeted him as the older Maximoff entered their flat and he sighed quietly while toeing off his shoes and putting his jacket on the wrack.
"Well it was a busy night at the club and something-" he answered truthfully but came to a hold in his answer. He crossed the distance to the living room and leaned, arms crossed, at the door frame. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep by now? You're having school tomorrow!"
His sister made a small sound - something like a huff to acknowledge he said something - but didn't bother to reason with the other. Her gaze was glued to a bunch of cubes floating in front of her face, surrounded by the same red energy that lit up her eyes in a bloody hue. She was rapidly getting better at this - Pietro had noticed that for a while - but he couldn't do anything to help her. Their powers were completely different just like them. So he decided to raid their kitchen for food and found some leftovers from the other day, putting them into the micro wave. It was his turn to shop, maybe he could do this tomorrow-
"So who is he?"
He gasped (gasped he said, Wanda would later dare to imply he had squeeked. Pff!) and turned around facing the raven haired girl now standing directly behind him. Lying was futile he knew with the eyes of his sibling boring in his soul but he tried anyway. "I have no clue what you're talking about sestreza... it was just a busy night and I had to do some extra work since we're short on staff right now."
He didn't want to think about this encounter right now. The teasing, this strange energy between them, how good it had felt to touch this otherwise foreign man. This was the last thing he needed right now. But one look was enough to state that the teenage girl didn't believe a single word he just said.
"Oh really? Guess you robbed a bank on your way bank then because there's a bag full of money in the hallway and it's not even payday."
Even on payday he wouldn't receive his loan in cash. The dancers and waiters kept a certain amount of the tips they gained during their shifts but never that much. Damn it... this girl was too clever for her own good.
"You're thinking too loud you know? Of course you can't lie to me, I know you ever since I was born. And such a feeble attempt... what are you trying to hide?" there was a tense silence between as he refused it reveal his confusion. Normally the older sibling would never bring home any of his "work" and she knew that very well. In the end Wanda surrendered their sort of staring contest with a exhausted sigh, "very well keep it to yourself then I can't - or better won't I could if I wanted - force you to tell me. But remember bolschoi bratjez: even you can have some fun from time to time.". Stealing some food of the plate the other had retrieved she left the room, muttering something about being tired and foolish thickheaded men.
Pietro snorted, shoveling food into his mouth. He wasn't thickheaded in this matter at all, he just wasn't one for believing in miracles. There was just no use of exaggerating - he was a orphan, a dancer in a club not some rich educated boytoy that would fit on Brandt's arm. Thoughtlessly chewing on his reheated meal he caught himself thinking of particular strong arms and hands and hid his face in his hands with a groan.
This was so going to be a pain in his ass...
-End part 2-
