Pairings: Dean/Paul, Paul/Stripper/Dean (in a lapdancey sort of way)
Word Count: 21,956
Universe: Brokeback Mothman
Summary: In his never-ending quest to epically mess with Paul’s head, Dean takes him out to a strip club and buys him a lap dance. There are at least three sides to this story: Paul's, Dean's, and the stripper's.
Warnings: Graphic sexual content between two men, lap dance/stripper culture (this is season one Dean; he has some sexual thoughts about the strippers that could be considered offensive by some), language
Beta Thanks: Beta'ed by alaniesanar. Thanks very much! You really helped me flesh out this story, even to the point that the strip club is a character as much as the people.
Author's Notes: Will be at the end of the story because they are lengthy. Remember, this universe is still lost in season one of SPN (when it was begun), post-series for "Miracles." Characters from later seasons of SPN are used in this universe in a basically AU way.
My life used to be pretty routine. At least, that's what I thought.
I was raised in a Catholic orphanage, studied to be a priest, investigated the authenticity of miracles for the church, quit everything when a little boy died to save me and no one believed the sacrifice he made, joined up with the only people who did believe it... and started seeing the dead.
Looking back, I guess none of it sounds routine. But it was my life. A person can get used to a lot of strange things when they're just trying to get by.
That was until I met Dean. Now there's a major life challenge.
He's been spending some time getting over a shoulder injury. The day after he stopped using the sling, Dean poked his head into the office where I work and said he was taking me out for a break. We've been working extra hours lately trying to figure out, well, everything. It's a long and complicated story. But there's a great deal to discuss. Dean seemed a little too happy-go-lucky for someone who'd been at death's door recently, grinning in that way that told me he was up to something.
I should have known.
I looked at my watch. "It's nearly 10 o'clock. Where are we going?"
Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "It's a surprise." Glancing over at Keel, he added, "Doesn't your boss ever let you go home?"
Keel looked at us, a small grin on his face. "Only if he's good," he said. Keel also checked his watch. "I guess we have worked enough for today. Feeling better, Dean?"
He gave a nod. "Shoulder's not 100% yet, but it's much better. I drove over here by myself and everything." Dean gestured for me to come on.
"Where's Sam?" I asked.
"I left him back at your place. He wouldn't stop making sarcastic comments about everything on TV. Got on my nerves." Again, Dean made that 'come on' motion. "Let's go get a beer."
I kind of knew Dean wanted more than just a beer, that he'd want to fool around too, and that didn't bother me at all. While he'd been recovering, we hadn't been able to share much more than a kiss, what with Sam hovering over him at all times of the day, and Keel wanting to get everything supernatural that we'd experienced down for the record. We still hadn't even figured out the Mothman thing yet. But people aren't made of stone.
I’m not made of stone.
I'm sure you're thinking right now that this guy is crazy to have ever thought his life is routine. Near-fatal shoulder injuries, supernatural goings-on, the Mothman, and he’s dating a guy? Yeah, I guess I am. But like I said, this is my life.
Sometimes I can't deal with it at all. Lately, Dean's been making it easier.
Maybe I need to admit it to myself and just get over it. I'm a Christian, I'm in love with another guy, and I’m struggling with it.
About two weeks ago, Dean was bitten by a supernatural creature called a shriker. That’s how his shoulder got injured. Shrikers carry a poison in their saliva, and it almost killed Dean. Luckily, Keel knew how to make the antidote. While ill with a high fever caused by the poison, Dean confessed that he was in love with me. I told him I love him too. He doesn’t remember it, any of it. We should talk about our feelings, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell him what we said.
Truth is, I was starting to feel like I was going to lose it if Dean and I didn't get some time alone. I nearly snapped when Keel tried to invite himself along. "A beer sounds good. Can I come with you?"
I barely contained myself. Dean could see it on my face. He saved the day, as usual. "You already finished transcribing that tape?"
"The one of our interview."
Keel and Dean exchanged glances. There was some kind of secret here, something that Dean didn't necessarily want me to know. That bothered me for a second, but then I realized that Keel had wanted to question Dean about his father and their shared supernatural experiences. It could be that there was no secret here at all, just me overreacting.
I really care about this guy, don't I? I'm imagining that he has secrets from me already.
"Oh." Keel smiled at me, awkwardly. Again, it struck me that maybe there was a secret they were keeping, or it could just be that he was embarrassed he hadn't gotten his work done. "No, I haven't fully transcribed that one yet." He straightened up, looking at me. "You're right, I should stay here and get on it."
What a relief. As much as I could appreciate that Keel needed a break too, having him tag along would spoil my time alone with Dean. I stood up and turned off the desk lamp. "See you in the morning, Keel. Don't burn too much of the midnight oil."
"I won't." His hands in his pockets, Keel headed up the stairs, watching us as we went out the main door.
When we got down to Dean's car, it was instant heat, him pressing me up against the door and kissing my lips, arms around me. I held him too, running a hand through his hair and down his back. He put his hands inside my coat so he could feel my body as closely as possible; I loved the way that felt. I suppose if I hadn’t tucked my shirt in that Dean's hands would’ve been inside there as well. At this point, it was a secret relationship, with kisses stolen in the dark against his car and love-making in my bedroom with the door closed. If our relationship wasn't a secret I currently wanted to keep too, I'd probably be offended.
Lord. Would I ever be able to tell Keel and Evie?
Dean pressed into me. My legs spread open a little, he pressed in so close. I liked it that way. I could feel his breath on my lips. We were both breathing a little hard with pent up desire for each other. "I've missed this," he said quietly.
I slipped my hands inside his jacket, trying to find the garment closest to his skin under all those layers of shirt. "Me too." We kissed again. He let out a small moan. "You wanna park somewhere? Have a quickie?"
Dean laughed. "Actually, I don't. Not yet." He grinned at me that way again, that devilish way he had when he was going to do something that would make me nervous. "I've got a surprise for you," he sing-songed.
"What?" I asked with trepidation.
"You'll just have to wait and see." With a wicked laugh, Dean backed up, letting me go. How I hated to not feel his body pressed on mine any more.
"This had better be worth it," I warned.
"Oh..." He reached around me and pulled on the door handle. "...it will be." Dean yanked the door open, smacking me in the ass.
When I saw the neon sign flashing PISTOL PETE'S, LIVE NUDE GIRLS, I could have killed him. "You're taking me to a strip club?" I said in disbelief.
"There's more to this than meets the eye, Metro."
So my cute little nickname had been shortened. "Dean, I am really not in the mood for this."
He was enjoying watching me squirm, I could tell. "Have you ever been in a strip club in your life, Paul?"
I continued, ignoring his joke. "Wouldn't you rather be alone?"
Parking the car, Dean switched the ignition off and looked at me. "We will be alone, eventually." His hand snaked over my knee and up my inner thigh. "But first, there's something I want you to do for me." That hand caressed up and down, up and down. It felt good, made it hard to think about anything else.
Swallowing hard, I asked, "What?"
He leaned over, lips against my ear, warm breath on my neck. "Relax," Dean whispered. "Let me take the lead. I promise you'll like it."
Heaven help me, was I a glutton for punishment, or was he just that good at seducing me? I turned my head and our lips brushed softly against each other. "Okay," I heard myself say, and then I might've moaned as he gently kissed me.
The club was noisy, with loud rock music and flashing lights everywhere. Exactly what I was not in the mood for. At least it was clean. It better be, with a two drink minimum and a $20 cover charge. I thought about that ridiculous sign outside again. "At least there won't be any dead nude girls. 'Cause you know, as Keel says, I’m a medium, and - "
"Don't jinx us." Dean sat at the bar, which was furthest from the main stage. That was fine with me. I had no idea at the time that he put us here on purpose, so he could survey the floor and find us just the right girl for his little surprise. "Two beers, please."
The club had a western motif. Pistol Pete's, blam blam, yarhoo. Cattle skulls on the walls, cowhide-look fabric on all the chairs, all that stuff. Dean seemed to like it. He kept pointing things out as we unwound and drank our beers. On the main stage, a bottle blonde with augmented breasts peeled her clothes off layer by layer. There were two smaller stages to the right and left and they were occupied too. Dean's eyes darted from one stage to another, sometimes surveying the girls walking the floor, sometimes turning to me with a laugh and a clap on the back.
"You enjoying yourself, Metrosexual?"
He hadn't called me that in a while. I smiled. "It's fun watching you. This place is making you get all animated and full of energy." That was the truth. Dean bounced in his seat, turning back and forth to watch every corner of the club at once, a giant grin on his face the whole time. He was like a kid in a candy store.
"You watching the girls at all?"
With a shrug, I replied, "I like 'em a little more natural."
"You do, huh?"
Oh, that tone... "Dean, what are you up to?"
What an impish grin that got in reply. Before I could say anything else, a blonde in a skimpy cowgirl outfit came up with a tray full of Jell-O shots. "You want a shot? For a dollar you can take it this way." She mimed putting the shot glass between her breasts. I could see it getting lost in there, what with the cleavage she was sporting.
Dean chuckled darkly. "Sounds like fun, sweetheart." He dug out a dollar. The waitress buried the shot glass between her breasts and smiled the whole time as Dean lowered his face to the rim, sucked hard, and threw his head back. It looked like he mashed the Jell-O between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. "Woo!" he cried, grinning and chewing.
The waitress turned to me. "Now you, cutie?"
Dean slipped a dollar that was folded in half lengthwise onto her tray. Then he looked at me, a dare in his eyes. I picked up a shot and threw my head back to suck it down. Dean eyed me as I put the glass back upside down, a half smile on my lips.
She leaned in a little, a hand bracing on the bar next to my arm. "The shots are free unless you want to take one the fun way." The waitress mimicked my half smile. "Are you sure you don't want to have some fun?"
Okay, I am made of flesh and blood. She did smell good and everything on her seemed real. I was even close enough to see that her cleavage was covered in glitter. But, the whole cowgirl thing was corny, with the pigtails and the hat, a plaid shirt tied tightly underneath her breasts, incredibly short-shorts, and cowboy boots... Dean definitely liked it. It just wasn't my thing. "I'm sure. I'm sorry, but I don't know you, so it would be disrespectful."
The waitress and Dean both started to laugh, but good-naturedly. "Disrespectful? Honey, do you know where you are?" she asked.
"He brought me in here." I hooked a thumb at Dean. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you kept the dollar, though."
"Thanks." She ran her fingers under my shirt collar, flirting. Even gave my neck a little squeeze. I admit, it felt nice. "Let me know if you change your mind."
The waitress started to leave, but Dean said, “Hold up,” and took another shot off her tray. He held it out to me, smirking. “Two drink minimum.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
Well, well, an immediate confession. “You know that’s not necessary, right?”
Dean grinned; he got it immediately. He didn’t need to get me drunk to get me into bed. “I just think it’d be fun,” Dean explained.
“Ah.” Seemed to me that he wanted me drunk so I’d react better to whatever surprise he had planned. After downing the second shot, I said, “But you have to take it easy. You’re driving, remember?”
“Oh please, it takes more than a couple beers to affect me. Besides...” Dean looked me up and down. “...you don’t think we’ll work it off?”
The waitress was still standing right there. I smiled shyly and ducked my head, a little embarrassed. Dean snickered.
She looked from him to me. “Okay, so, let me know if you need anything.” When she passed Dean, the waitress lightly traced his knee with her fingertips, then moved on to other patrons at the bar.
He looked at me, mischief in his eyes. "She likes us."
I couldn't help but shake my head. "She likes money."
Leaning closer to me, Dean said, "You know, it's kinda sexy that you wouldn't take the shot from her tits. You got principles, and I like that."
Would he like the fact that the word "tits" coming from his mouth turned me on? He was sin on legs; dirty talk comes with the package, and I was hopelessly addicted to the package.
Dean put an arm around my neck. "You know, though, the fact that you got principles also makes you delectably corruptible." His breath felt hot on my face and smelled of liquor. "Will you indulge me if I mess with you a little? It would really get me going."
He was oh-so-happy with himself. "Mess with me?"
"It's my surprise."
"It sounds embarrassing."
Patting my chest with his other hand, Dean said, "It might be at first, but I promise, soon you'll be enjoying yourself too much to care."
"What is it?"
"Will you trust me and follow my lead?"
The way he said it, without a hint of defensiveness... instead, his tone was sincere, and almost innocent, like he was truly asking me and not trying to weasel me into anything. I knew this was another one of Dean's romantic challenges, but looking into those guileless green eyes, I would follow him down whatever road he took. "Okay."
"Okay," he repeated, and sucked briefly at his bottom lip. "Do you like that girl?"
"Who, the waitress?"
I shrugged. "The cowgirl getup is kind of silly."
"If she didn't have that on, what would you think?"
This conversation was going in a direction I couldn't have anticipated. As usual, it made me nervous. "I don't know, she's pretty, I guess. One of the more natural girls in here. Why?"
I nodded my head toward the main stage. "Most of them are so made up, so... enhanced." We both looked at our waitress, who was delivering a shot to a guy in ratty sweat pants. "Everything about her at least looks real."
"Yeah... her color is natural, and I'm pretty sure the tits are too."
With two fingers on his chin, I swiveled his head back around to look at me and repeated, "Why?"
At first, he just smiled. Then, he said, "I'll be right back."
All I could do was watch as Dean slid off his stool and sauntered over to the waitress. My mind went to some extreme places. Was he going to try to get her to come with us? Would this turn into the threesome he’d been talking about? I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I could see Dean gesturing toward me and the girl flashing a big, amused grin before nodding her head. I nervously downed three-quarters of my beer way too fast while watching this conversation. When Dean took out a few bills and handed them over to her, my eyes must've grown as big as saucers. What had he just paid this girl, a stranger, to do to me?
Dean walked back over. "Come with me," he commanded.
I started to panic. "How much did you give her? It looked like a lot!"
"Enough," Dean said.
I curled a fist into the front of his shirt and yanked him closer. "Did you just pay that girl to have sex with us?"
He began to chuckle, looking down at my hand. "Are you kidding? This isn't a brothel." As my fingers relaxed, Dean added, "I imagine you'll be getting off, though."
"And why would you say that?" When he didn't answer, only grinned, I said, "Dean? What did you do?"
The grin only widened, but not at my expense. It looked like a grin of fondness, for me. "Are you really that innocent?"
Blinking a few times in bemusement, I finally figured it out. Sort of. "What, is she a stripper too?"
"Looks that way."
"So she's going to dance for us privately?"
Dean grabbed both our beers by the neck. Truth be told, it was my second, and almost finished. "You're getting warmer." He gently took me by the hand, which sent shockwaves of pleasure up my spine. Here we were in a packed strip club, one of the most macho places on earth, and he dared to hold my hand, not even caring if anyone saw... as long as it wasn’t Sam. "Come on."
I willingly followed.
There was a separate room off the main one with an electric blue neon sign over the curtained doorway. Big Spendin’ Buckaroos, it said. The cursive letters ended in a loop, like a cowboy’s lasso. Just as we were reaching this doorway, a woman in a beaded 1920s flapper dress, cut to be more revealing than your usual flapper dress, grabbed hold of my arm.
"Excuse me," she said. "Have you got a token for the tram?" Her accent sounded Irish, and she’d spoken in a friendly tone.
"Huh? No, I'm sorry, I haven't got any tokens."
Dean tugged gently on my hand. "Paul? What'd you say?"
I looked at him. "Does the trolley take tokens now?"
"How would I know?"
When I turned back to her, she was gone. I didn’t have time to give her a second thought at that point, as Dean pulled me through the curtains.
The cowgirl was already there, waiting for us. She pointed me toward a booth-style seat with that cowhide-look fabric on it. It was a pretty wide seat, which made me think that Dean would be sitting next to me, but instead, he went for a smaller chair that he pulled over next to the booth and sat down. I took a seat by myself.
The room was pretty dark. Our area was lit by a couple of recessed lights in the ceiling, but I couldn’t see the entire room right off. The electric blue neon lighting continued into the room as some sort of theme, with looped lassos running along the wall near the ceiling. I followed some of them with my eyes until I realized that the room was nearly round, and fairly big. It wasn’t as loud in here; the music from the main room was just a muffled booming bass sound, and a couple of individual songs played nearby, although not as intrusively. A rather large tattooed gentleman stood just inside the doorway, his bulging forearms crossed over his chest. I assumed he was a bouncer.
"So honey..." She took a little velvet bag off her wrist and set it down on a nearby table. There was a wad of money peeking out of the top. "...is this your first rodeo?"
My eyes had adjusted to the dark. That was when I noticed a couple of identical booths across the room were occupied. Two more strippers gyrated on top of other customers. It was all bucking and swaying hips.
This was a lap dance room.
I was going to kill him.
The “him” in question had turned his chair around before sitting in it backwards and folding his arms over the back, resting his chin on the backrest. Now, he peered at me over his forearms and grinned, looking like a mischievous little boy.
I was more embarrassed than angry. "Dean, did you really - "
Dean put a finger to his lips to shush me. "I don't think he's ever had one before," he said to the stripper.
"Really?" Clearly, she didn't meet many men my age who hadn't. "Then here's your rules, handsome. I can touch you, but you can't touch me. As you're a man with principles, I think I can trust you to stick to the rules."
Dean chuckled behind his arm.
I was feeling the alcohol by then; it was like a lovely warmth in my gut. "Technically, that was only one rule," I said, and glanced at Dean. He grinned with that mischief still twinkling in his eyes. If he was going to mess with me, I could do it right back. "I didn't feel right about taking the shot from between her breasts, and you think this is going to be okay?"
Hands on her hips, she looked and Dean and waited for a response.
Shrugging, Dean said, "So leave."
He knew I wouldn't. At first, the idea of the lap dance freaked me out, but then Dean looked at me that way and the alcohol began to loosen me up, and all I could think about was making love to him in the back of his car. It got me going again. My pants grew a little tighter in the front. The girl was another one of his sexual challenges, something Dean really wanted to see. I understood that it wasn't about her.
It was about watching me writhe underneath her.
Raising an eyebrow, I replied, "No, I think I'll stay. I don't want your money to go to waste." Whatever challenge Dean put me to, I could handle it, because I knew he'd never take me too far. Okay, I may have worried about what he was up to, and made some drastic assumptions, but I always knew in the end that he would look out for me. I wanted to turn him on with this little show he'd arranged. "I didn't realize you were such a voyeur."
Dean slowly got to his feet, stretching a little like a sleek cat, and made his way closer to the booth. Damn, that movement was seductive. His T-shirt rode up a little, and I could see abdominal muscles flexing and rippling sinuously... it just made me want to touch him all over. He spoke to the stripper. "Now, if he gets at all handsy with you, here's a good way to put him in his place." Dean turned to me and suddenly grabbed my wrists, lifting them up over my head and pinning me to the back of the booth. The motion was so quick and hard that the booth bounced against the wall with a loud thump. I gasped and let out this surprised noise that was almost a moan. Heaven help me, I wanted him so bad at that moment. It turned him on to dominate me, and I liked giving him that control. A sweat broke out across my forehead and the back of my neck.
Dean moved his hands over mine and briefly held them, squeezing lightly. Our eyes locked. Because he deserved it, I squirmed a little under his hold, giving Dean a preview of the show to come. My movements made it easier to see the lump forming my pants. Dean eyed my body up and down. "Just like that," he said, before finally letting go and standing up straight again.
When he turned to the stripper, she had a surprised, searching look on her face. A wave of panic swept over me for a second. We hadn't done much up until now to signal the nature of our relationship, except for that little exchange about “working it off” at the bar. For all she knew, we were just a couple of buds who had stopped in for a good time. How would she react now that she had an idea that we were involved? Erotically pinning your friend down by the wrists wasn't exactly something straight guys did to each other.
I know I shouldn't have, but I used my empathy to dip into her mind, for just a short time. She looked from Dean to me. Confusion. The confusion deepened and she looked at me again, sharply. Then a knowing smile came to her face. I felt her emotions spike as they turned to something resembling amusement. A warmth spread through her emotional center; that meant positive feelings. I wasn't sure why at that moment. I surmised later that it was because she knew exactly how to play us once she realized we were together.
"I'll keep that in mind, honey," the stripper said, responding to Dean’s “advice.” He went back over to his chair, turned it around the right way, and took a seat as close to the booth as possible. "You ready?"
This was really about to happen. Those feelings of embarrassment came back, along with the question of whether or not I'd be disrespecting this woman by letting her service me for money. But I wasn't turning back now. I gave her a nod to go ahead.
Thinking back about it, I feel kind of guilty at how I allowed this woman to objectify herself for my and Dean's pleasure. Heck, I've counseled exotic dancers at the church. In my experience, they're not all damaged women who strip to work out their childhood issues with Daddy. I know this. But when I think of how far I let this go... I need to remember that I've got a moral side and a fallible, human side. When you're worked up sexually, you allow a lot of things that may seem uncharacteristic of you otherwise. I just hope she didn't think Dean and I were pigs.
"Great, I'll just put on some music." She went over to a stereo console with an iPod port, chose a song on the iPod, and turned back to where we were sitting. A song I've never heard before started up. It had a soothing, smooth rhythm with a hypnotic beat. She almost immediately began to sway to it, making her way across the floor.
Maybe it was a strange thing to do, but I couldn't help but talk to her. After all, I just met the woman and she was about to rub her crotch against mine. "What's your name?" I asked.
"Dixie." She put a hand on the back of her head and waved her hips back and forth to the music. I have to admit, it was sexy. She knew how to move in that sinuous manner that spoke of nothing less than instant seduction.
Still, I just couldn't shut up. "Is that your real name?"
"Are those your real eyelashes?" Dixie retorted.
Dean snickered. "They are rather lush for a man."
I smacked his knee with the back of my hand. "Pot calling the kettle black."
Dixie took off her cowboy hat. "Sorry baby, but Dixie's all you need to know." As she drew closer to us, she put the hat on Dean's head. Then she put both hands behind her neck and danced in front of me in a provocative pose, breasts presented nicely, hips rolling like waves.
"I'm sorry. It's just I hardly know you, and... uhhh..." I reached out with my empathy again, but realized it wasn't going to tell me what I wanted to know. Dixie looked at me with furrowed brow, almost halting in her movements, until I pulled it back. Oh God, she could feel me pawing through her mind. I've found that sometimes, people can feel it, and sometimes, they can't. We were lucky she had no idea what it was. Still, I reached out again and sent her the suggestion that she felt calm, that there was nothing to freak out about. It seemed to work. God, I’ve got to stop doing that. It’s not right. I kept talking to shift the attention away from what I had just done. "Why do you strip? Does it have anything to do with some traumatic life experience? Because I have friends at the church who do free counseling. I could - "
I stopped when I heard Dean laughing. "Oh, Paul," he said. "You are too much."
Dixie chuckled a bit too and rolled her eyes. "No, no trauma here. I do it because I like it. And I'm good at it." She winked at me. "Money's pretty good too." Leaning over the booth, Dixie ran her fingers through the hair on the side of my head. "It's sweet that you're concerned about me, really it is. But you don't have to be worried. I'm not a broken little girl." As if to demonstrate one of the perks of the job, Dixie knelt in front of me, ever-swaying her hips as she went down, and caressed both my knees - it seemed like a position of subservience, but she had every bit of the control and dominance. Her hands moved up and down my thighs slowly, sometimes on top and sometimes in between them. It reminded me of Dean stroking my thigh in the car, and I started to get pretty excited, erection ever growing. "You're both really hot," she said, eyes full of mischief and delight. "This will be my pleasure."
"Woo!" Dean suddenly cried. He pushed the cowboy hat back on his head, watching her hands move.
Prolonging the fun, Dixie stood up and swayed her body to the music again. She danced like she felt every note of the song, that mesmerizing, smooth beat.
As if he read my mind, Dean remarked, "This is some serious porn music right here. What is it?"
"'Sparks' by Royksopp," she replied, like we'd know it. "It's got an excellent beat, huh?"
"It's like fucking set to music," he said.
"I know. It's got the perfect rhythm for a lap dance." Dixie demonstrated by undulating her hips in a series of slow waves, like she might do if she was straddling a man’s hips, eyes closed. Dean and I both couldn't take our eyes off her when she did it. As he was to my left, he slid his right hand up my thigh and began stroking it again without even looking. My breathing quickened. The sweater was getting way too hot to wear anymore. I wished Dean could strip it off me.
When she opened her eyes, Dixie watched Dean's hand make lazy circles on my inner thigh, getting dangerously close to my crotch, and grinned. She began untying her top.
Every movement she made was slow, prolonged for maximum tease. Dean let out a little moan and a, "Mmm, yeah baby," when she rubbed at her chest through the shirt before shedding it, revealing a pink lacy bra. Dixie moaned too, feeling herself up. It was a brief sound, but it was enough.
What she did next should have been lewd, but Dean and I were already worked up enough that anything sexual Dixie did simply turned up the heat. However, I won't describe it; that goes too far into the realm of disrespect. I'm sure that sounds totally stupid since she was there to give me a lap dance, but what can I say? It makes sense to me.
The shorts came off, revealing a pink G-string with shiny sequins. Dixie kicked the shorts aside. When she unsnapped the bra, I had already been taken so far that I wasn't so embarrassed anymore. She was beautiful and sexy and completely seducing both of us. The fact that right as she reached for the bra hooks, Dean palmed me through my jeans and began to knead at my crotch didn't help either.
"Dean," I moaned, feeling the heat of my flushed face. He leaned over and kissed me. I couldn’t have cared less if anyone else saw that. By now, Dean was breathing hard too.
Dean told me later that some peeper standing over by the door just stared at us while Dean was groping me, and when we kissed. The bouncer took him out. I didn’t notice. I was a little, uh, preoccupied.
Dixie laid down on the floor and did that thing again that I don't want to describe. Maybe I'm a hypocrite not to describe it considering that I responded favorably to it, but whatever.
When she got up and crawled toward me, I knew it was time for the main event. Or maybe I just hoped it was. At that point, I wanted release. Dixie ran her hands up my legs and over my thighs again. She intertwined her fingers with Dean's, stealthily extracting his hand from my crotch so she could put her mouth there instead. I cried out so loud I embarrassed myself. My jeans never came off, Dixie just pressed her face into my crotch, mouthing at the outline of my hardening member and making aroused moaning sounds. At this point, I was panting so hard I'm sure I could be heard all over the room. She climbed up into my lap, straddling me.
Then she mimicked what Dean had done, taking my wrists and pinning my arms above my head, just not as forcefully as he had. Dean hissed through his teeth. Dixie's breasts hovered right in my face until she settled herself back down again and began to buck in my lap slowly and methodically, to the rhythm of the song. It felt like making love. I responded so quickly that I was almost instantly as hard as I could get.
The empathy got a little out of control here. My arousal started to rebound to Dean and his back to me, and I think somewhere in there that I might have sent some of what both of us were feeling to Dixie. How embarrassing. I couldn’t help it.
Lord, I wanted so much not to draw attention to myself, but I couldn't keep quiet. It felt so good and I was so worked up. Dean squirmed in his seat. He wanted to get involved very much, but had no idea how. Dean wound up resting his arms and head on the curved armrest of the booth to watch. "Oooooh," he mouthed at me. I reached over and stroked his cheek. When I took my hand back, Dixie mimicked what I had done, and then ran her fingers through his hair. Oh, she knew exactly how to work both of us. I had no reason to feel like I was taking advantage of her. The woman could take care of herself.
At that point, I was practically helpless against her. Dixie kept up the rhythm while running her hands over my chest and sides. "Mmmm, baby," she moaned, like it was just as good for her too. I knew that wasn't true, that it was part of the act, but it still turned me on to listen to her.
I was almost there. I knew Dean could hear it in my voice, how the moans were becoming more desperate, my breathing even quicker. He couldn't touch Dixie, but he could touch me, so Dean took hold of my nearest hand, squeezing it lightly. That turned me on more than anything that was happening in my lap. Here I had this girl gyrating against me and he was simply holding my hand again, the most innocent expression of love that exists.
Dixie held my face in her hands and bucked against me harder and faster; it only took a few more strokes and I was having an orgasm. Dean sat up straight when I hissed and cried out, drinking in every visual and auditory bit of stimulation I was giving him. It felt like I held my breath for several minutes before I finished and I could let it out with a huff and a sound that was almost a whine. Dixie slowed her movements, working me through it. She kissed my cheek.
"That was nice, honey," she told me. I could hardly move as she got up; my legs were like wobbly newborn foal legs.
Dean leaned forward to stroke my knee. He whispered, "That was super, super hot. Mmmm." Kissing the side of my mouth, Dean nuzzled me before going in his pocket for his wallet.
Dixie came back over, her clothes in her hand. She leaned over and kissed Dean's cheek too. "Come back soon, cuties. Okay?"
Dean handed her another twenty. She tucked it in her little wrist bag. "Thanks, that was great," he said.
The feeling started to come back into my legs, but they were still wobbly. I realized that the song she'd put on was still playing; how long was it anyway? I also realized that the flapper girl I'd seen earlier was now sitting in a booth near the door, staring at me. How humiliating.
"Did you have a good time, then?" she asked, and giggled behind her hand.
I tried to find my voice. "Does your friend not understand the etiquette around here?" I said to Dixie, attempting to keep my voice low.
She looked around. "Which friend?"
"The girl dressed as a flapper."
Dixie looked where I indicated the friend should be. Of course, I should have known. The flapper wasn't there anymore.
Instead of treating me like I was nuts, Dixie looked at Dean and I and giggled. "Oh, you saw our ghost."
"Yeah. There's some ghost stripper from the '20s who hangs around here all the time. I saw her once. Red hair, set in waves?"
I nodded. Apparently, the club did have a dead girl. I’m just glad she wasn’t nude.
"Aren't you lucky," Dixie declared.
Dean took hold of my arm, trying to pull me up. "Lucky?" I asked.
Giggling again, Dixie said, "The legend goes that when you see the flapper, it means you're going to get laid that night." She looked from me to Dean.
I also looked at Dean. Such heat in his eyes... the legend was right.
There was no point in trying to clean myself up yet; we barely made it to the car before Dean was pressing me up against it again, kissing and groping.
"Let's get in. Someone might see," I said. Most of the guys around strip clubs weren't exactly going to be kind to two men making out if they saw us. "We should find another place to stash the car while we..."
Eyes wide, Dean realized at that moment that I had every intention of getting it on with him in the car. Apparently, he hadn't been sure I would be comfortable with it. "I don't know if I can wait. You should have seen yourself in there with that girl, getting you off... Damn, you are just full of surprises."
"But you'd like a little more anticipation..." I opened the driver's side door. "...wouldn't you?"
Dean continued to breathe hard from thinking about it. There was a sizable lump in the front of his jeans. "There's a park two blocks from here. No one'll be there this time of night." He scurried into the car. "Are you coming?"
It wasn't a long drive, but I made good use of it by teasing Dean like he'd teased me. I stroked his thigh the whole way. He just panted and made a humming-moaning sound until we pulled up under a tree and he killed the engine. Then, he was all over me.
"Back seat, back seat," he said, and we climbed over.
Dean quickly stripped off his jacket, plaid over-shirt, and T-shirt, throwing them every which way in the car. There was more kissing, and then I took off my coat. Yanking at my clothes, Dean managed to get my shirt untucked and pulled off my sweater. I grabbed his wrists and wrestled them up over his head like he had done to me, pinning them to the car seat. Dean nipped at my mouth as I went in for another kiss. It became a deep, sensuous tongue kiss that lasted more than a minute. We explored each other’s mouths, Dean sitting with me straddling his lap.
"You wanna lap dance, mister? Huh?" I rubbed my crotch against his. He moaned, all needy and full of heat. "I cannot believe you did that."
"I’d pay to see it again. You, so innocent and helpless against the big bad stripper's feminine wiles. That was all real. You've really never had a lap dance before." Dean paused as we shared a few kisses. "I bet you've never even stepped foot in a strip club before tonight."
"Only when I took a wrong turn." We shared a laugh, but I was lying. Some friends in college dragged me to a strip club one night, and I did stay for an hour or so. However, Dean wouldn't have been at all surprised to know that I left early. You're exposed to a lot of bad in the adult entertainment industry when you do counseling for the church. So many people who can’t reconcile what they do for a living with their religious beliefs... at least on Sundays.
"You have no idea how hot and sexy you looked squirming in ecstasy in that chair. I could've watched that all day," Dean said breathlessly.
I let go of his wrists and made a show of looking him up and down. "I can imagine how hot and sexy it looked."
With a growl, Dean grabbed my ass, pulling my hips against his. I tried to get a hold of his wrists again, playing with him, and while I chuckled, he kept growling. We wrestled for control briefly, but he's stronger than me, and I always intended to give him the upper hand anyway. Dean pushed me over onto my back on the seat and pinned me for a few seconds; when he was sure I wasn't going to resist, he slid my shirt up my chest and kissed his way down to the waist band of my jeans. I panted, lying there as he undid my jeans and yanked everything down and off, although they got stuck at my ankles since my shoes were still on. This gave me the chance to have another good chuckle while Dean worked at my clothes; soon one shoe thumped to the floor and the other got lost somewhere in the tangle of jeans and underwear.
I hadn't had a chance to clean up after the lap dance. Dean just leaned down and immediately took my erection in his mouth, licking off any ejaculate that was left. This made me cry out, as although I had been getting turned on again, it was still a sudden bit of stimulation. Once he felt that was done, Dean fumbled in his discarded jacket and brought out a small bottle. I barely got a glimpse of it, but I recognized the color of the label - it was one of our favorite warming lubricants. The stuff felt incredible.
Dean took the time to squirt some in his hand and rub my hardness down with it. It responded instantly, getting harder, making me moan headily. He then undid his jeans and pushed them down off his hips, underwear too. Breathing even harder, Dean stroked himself with his lubed hand. The cap went on the bottle, the bottle was tossed on the floor, and Dean wiped his hand on his jeans before diving on top of me, wedging his body between my legs. I angled my lower half just right and he slid up inside me. We both moaned at how deep he went, hitting just the right spot; my spine lit up with explosions of pleasure.
“Is it okay? Does it hurt?” he asked.
“No pain; it’s great,” I moaned out. And it was. That warm, wet heat surrounding his manhood inside me, filling me...
I wrapped one leg around his waist and he put a hand behind my head, cradling it. The other hand held my left wrist down over my head for just a few seconds before he slipped his hand into mine. Dean was holding my hand during our love making. We’d never done that before. I felt so close to him at that moment. Intertwining my fingers with his, I chased his panting mouth until we were kissing, needy but slow, gentle kisses as he slid in and out of me just as gently. The love I felt for him was so strong in me that I thought my heart might burst from the ache.
This definitely wasn’t casual sex. Maybe it had never been. It was true that even the first time we made love, Dean had been there because he wanted to take care of me.
The window above my head began to fog up. A deeply humid heat surrounded both our bodies, making us sweat. That electric fire inside me, shooting up my spine every time Dean thrust in, it remains the greatest pleasure I’ve ever felt.
Near climax, he panted hot into my neck, body shaking harder against me. "Ahhh... aaahhh... Paul..." right into my ear. I don't think there will ever come a day that I get tired of hearing that.
A street light towered over the car; as I was facing up, I saw the shadow pass over us as someone walked by. They stopped for a second, maybe looking, and then hurried off. I started to warn Dean - what if it was a police officer? But at that moment, his movements quickened and moaning intensified. Both of his hands moved to my hips, holding me steady so he could control the faster rhythm. The car seat squeaked underneath us with every hard thrust.
"Paul, Paaaaul, you're - " Dean froze, cried out my name louder, and came inside me. His hips bucked fast and hard, nursing the orgasm to its conclusion. I couldn't do anything but close my eyes and ride it out, the pleasure becoming so fierce that my ears rang for several seconds. These feelings only intensified when I came on his chest and mine. I was aware that I was moaning with his every stroke, but the sounds were far away. Slowly, sound seeped back in, and we laid there and panted.
I angled my head back so I could see a little of what was outside the car. The window above my head was fogged along the bottom edge, but I could still see that no one had their face pressed against the glass. Dean distracted me again by kissing and nipping at my exposed neck.
"Mmm, that was great, baby," he purred. "I can't believe you came too. I didn't even touch you."
"Your stomach was rubbing against me."
"And you were... you know how it feels..."
I could hear the wicked smile in his voice. "How it feels when I'm inside you."
Nodding, I said, "Yeah."
"It's cute that you don't want to say the words. I know there's a little minx in there somewhere, but he only comes out when he wants to," Dean chuckled.
I rolled my eyes. He's always talking about that minx thing.
We kissed a few more times, small, loving kisses. When Dean started to pull out, I held my leg around his bottom and kept him down a little longer. We both had a laugh. "Sometimes I wish you never had to pull out," I told him. "You, inside me... feels natural." God, what was I saying?
Dean shut up my conscience by planting the most intense, romantic kiss on my mouth that I think I've ever felt. At least, it was since the last time he kissed me like that. My heart fluttered in my chest. There had been many passionate kisses since we'd met. What were we doing here? Where was this going to lead? When he broke the kiss, we just lay there, brushing our lips together and trying to catch our breath while we both wanted so badly to say how we really felt.
At least, I wanted to say it. Why was I so afraid to talk about it?
Dean started to get up again and this time, I didn't pin him down. We had to go home sometime. He leaned over the seat and got some napkins out of the glove compartment so we could clean up. The weariness of two orgasms settled into my bones. I felt loose and relaxed in Dean’s afterglow. I would have loved to help him clean up in the most intimate way possible, but it might have just gotten us started again. We both sat up and started to gather our clothes.
As I was putting my pants back on, I remembered what I had seen. "Did you see that shadow?"
"I might've seen a quick flash of something move across you, blocking that light..." He pointed to the street lamp. "...but I was a little distracted at the time."
I couldn't help but grin.
Dean put his T-shirt on, then peered out the window. "I don't see anybody."
"Maybe it was just a bird."
"As long as it wasn't a cop," he said with a laugh.
It was like he read my mind.
"I really want to snuggle with you tonight," I said in a low voice. "How can we make this happen?"
"Hmm. Sam's not going to buy another empathy headache, I don't think." Dean thought it over. "The Jack in the Box restaurants around here have 24 hour drive-throughs, don't they?"
"Uhh, they're at least open late. Why?"
"We'll go by there and get some late night munchies. Sam loves their tacos. But, here's the kicker: they give him gas. So I'll say, ‘Oh no, I can't sleep in here with you tonight, Gassy McGaserton. I better bunk with Paul, who had the good sense to get something less fart-inducing.’" Dean nudged my arm.
I couldn't help but laugh. "You're a genius. I think."
He grinned from ear to ear, very satisfied with himself.
That's exactly what we did, and it worked like a charm. While I lay there with Dean in the dark, I couldn't stop thinking about what was going to happen next. Dean was used to life on the road. We had a case for him to work; in fact, it was so involved that it could keep him busy for months to come. Would he want to stay that long?
He said he loved me. But did he still feel that way now that he wasn’t at death’s door?
God help me, I'm in trouble.
On to Part II