Chapter Text
The tragic tale of how Kagami Taiga ended up slouched low in a chair pouting at a male strip club was not a long story.
The extremely simplified version could be summarized in two words: Kuroko Tetsuya. The long version really isn’t much longer, going a little something like this:
“Kagami-kun, I would greatly appreciate your company this evening. If it's not too much trouble.”
“Uh, sorry but I can't. I have to get up early again for work tomorrow and—“
And then Kuroko proceeded to bring up a very embarrassing memory of college-age Kagami, one involving streaking naked in the public park on a dare and getting caught and subsequently ogled by a bunch of old ladies. This friendly reminder was followed by a cool, "Oh, by the way, have I told you that my blog traffic has increased to one million visitors per week? Truly remarkable."
Even Kagami, dense as he was, was able to see blackmail when it was being rubbed in his face. He quickly agreed before running off to work, not even thinking to ask where they were going. That had been a mistake.
Thus, now both of them were sitting at a table, Kagami’s arms crossed across his chest, the spitting image of a petulant child, as across from him Kuroko happily sips a fruity drink from a glass with an umbrella.
“You don’t even like alcohol,” Kagami grumbles, frowning deeply as he stares at the dirty laces of his shoes. He tries to look as irritate as possible, lest anyone thinks he's here of his own free will.
“This kind tastes good. Stop scowling, Kagami-kun. I assure you, you will enjoy yourself.” Kuroko says, takes a contented slurp of his drink.
Kagami groans, covers his face with his hands, wishes he could be home already. He's feeling very out of place. Privately, he's sort of impressed by how classy the place is. While it's dark and murky, the background thump of electronic music beating into his ears, the tables are also covered by crisp white tablecloths, little flower vases and candles in the center. There are a multitude of potted plants covered in white fairy lights around the vast room, and the staff are all dressed cleanly. He's pleased that the air doesn't reek of cigarettes or sweat like he expected, instead smelling of what he thinks is Pine Sol mixed with the floral quality of perfume. People are dressed nicely, dresses and button-up shirts, and he feels self-conscious of his jeans and t-shirt, smelling like a greasy frying pan. Kagami never thought he'd see the day when he felt too shabby to be in a strip club, yet here he was.
He narrows his eyes, watches Kuroko's cheeks hollow as he sucks on the swirly straw. “It’s not like I have anything against places like this, but it’s just not my thing at all. And honestly, it’s not yours either. Why are we even here?” He subtly tries to bang his head on the table and fails, pretends that no one turns to scope out the source of the hollow thud.
Kuroko gives an acknowledging hum, pops his mouth of the straw, begins twirling it around the glass with his fingers. “A close friend of mine from high school recently got in contact with me. We've met for coffee several times, and he wanted to show me where he worked. Apparently, he’s been working very hard on his newest set.” He shrugs nonchalantly.
Kagami glances up, realization dawning followed by a sour scowl.
“'Set'? You mean he's an actual dancer here? God, what kind of people did you hang out with in high school?"
Kuroko doesn't say anything, and as Kagami watches him, looking for any giveaways, he makes the next connection. He leans his chin on his hand, raises his eyebrows condescendingly. "Oh. And let me guess. You’re interested.”
Kuroko gives another noncommittal shrug, his fingers drawing shapes into the condensation of his glass, Kagami noting the very faint pink tinting to his cheeks. “I find it quite harmless coming to see where he works. I wanted to show him that I’m a friend who's willing to support his career.”
“Uh-huh, 'support his career'." Kagami makes exaggerated air quotes, lays the sarcasm on thick. "You're just after his ass. Not that I care, but do tell how I fit into this master plan.”
Kuroko looks over at him sadly.
“I’m wounded. You really want your best friend to sit at a table in a strip club all by himself?”
"You—" Kagami pauses, grinds his teeth together, works to control the volume of his voice. “Let me get this straight,” he growls. “You dragged me here because you wanna bang your hot boy toy from high school, and you didn't wanna go alone.”
“How crude.” Kuroko says, his face completely neutral, not even pretending to be offended.
Kagami snorts. “I have no choice. I can’t sugar coat shit with you or else you try to weasel your way out. Like now,” he mutters bitterly.
“Kagami-kun, let’s stop playing the blame game. I believe the show is about to begin." And as he speaks, the lights dim and the people around them give shrieks of excitement, everyone who had been standing about socializing bouncing back to their tables. A blinding spotlight illuminates center stage, on either side of it dark velvet curtains.
Exasperated, Kagami sighs, and he turns to better face the stage. Soon enough, a beautiful woman with pastel pink hair sashays her way into view, her sequin-coated dress glittering under the harsh lights. She stands in the spotlight like she was born there, her sultry eyes half-lidded as she scans the crowd with a smile, hands on her hips, a microphone headset arranged near her mouth.
Kuroko makes a noise low in his throat.
Kagami leans across the table, waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “What? You wanna bang her too? Damn Kuroko, someone’s gettin’ greedy,” he whispers smugly. Kuroko shoots him an irritated glance.
“Coincidentally, I also know Momoi-san from high school. I am simply surprised.”
Kagami's curious, wants Kuroko to elaborate, but he decides to drop it and ask later because the woman begins to speak, and her voice is so alluring and pleasant that he can't stop himself from quickly becoming captivated.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Are we ready for a fun show tonight?” The woman, Momoi, all but sighs into the microphone. The answering cheers are wildly enthusiastic, whistles coming from the very back of the room and she smiles. He's under the distinct impression that she's completely aware that the audience is putty in her hands.
“That’s what I like to hear! We have the best of the best with us here tonight, including our club favorite, the Black Panther!” She smiles slyly, holds her hand to her ear as if to encourage the audience. She doesn't need to. The reaction is instantaneous—the clapping is a dull roar underneath the crazed screams; he looks around to see women already fanning themselves, giggling to one another. He tries to block out the background noise and focus on Momoi's voice.
"Now, I hate to be a party pooper, but before we begin there are a few rules we'd like everybody to follow." There's a collective sigh as Momoi holds up her index finger. "Number one: no pictures." There are several groans and she titters in reply. "Now, now. Don't be like that. You'll get an eyeful, I promise." She's walking herself in figure-eights across the stage, her steps exaggerated and slow, high heels clicking across the blacktop. "In fact, it would be great if you could keep your phones away completely. If you need to make a call, please go outside."
"Number two!" She holds up two fingers, brings them to her lips and in a movement so quick Kagami thinks he might have imagined it she gives them a quick swipe with her tongue. Her following grin is mischievous, reminding him of the Cheshire cat.
"We ask that you mind your language. I know our boys are tempting, and the boys know it, too. But we don't need Horny McGee shouting from the back that he wants to fuck so-and-so senseless. It's very distracting, and very distasteful."
"And finally, rule number three! No. Touching." She sing-songs, waggles three fingers and as the crowd begins to protest she holds up her other hand to silence them.
"However," she purrs, a devious smile curving up her mouth, "if a dancer decides to touch you, then I'm sure they'd have no problem with it if you decide not to keep your hands to yourself.'' And she emphasizes her words by sliding her own hands sensually down her waist, bottom lip between her teeth and Kagami swears he sees someone wipe drool off their chin.
"Now that the boring part's taken care of, let me introduce our show-stopping opener of the evening. Sinfully sexy and up to no good, may I introduce the Hawk Eye!” She says, gesturing to a figure slipping out from the left side of the stage as she exits from the other. The people at the tables all around them shout out their approval, letting out wolf whistles and stomping their feet. Kuroko claps politely and Kagami stares incredulously.
“What kind of name is that?” He shoots at Kuroko, not finding the power within him to even laugh. Kuroko glances at him, then back to the stage.
“I don’t know, Kagami-kun. I personally feel that it suits him rather well.”
Kagami follows his stare to a man now standing where Momoi once was; his legs are clad in knee-high boots and fishnet stockings, a black corset wrapped tight around his chest. Kuroko's right. While his face has a soft, pretty quality to it, his narrow steely eyes are bright, scanning the crowd with the sharp cunning of a predator. His sweet smile contrasts with the gyrating of his hips that start when the music begins.
Try as he might to be attentive, Kagami can't help but quickly tune out, watching the dancing but not truly there. There’s a pole that Hawk Eye twirls around for a while, lifting himself clear off the ground with just his legs, and Kagami is able to admire the strength that it requires, but beyond that he’s unable to muster a care.
Hawk Eyes’ set ends to an explosion of applause, and even though Kagami found the dance itself to be very feminine, especially with his costume, Hawk Eye exits the stage leaving flushed faces and doe-eyes in his wake.
Kagami claps slowly, bored and wishing he was home eating excessive amounts of popcorn while watching a movie, curled up in a blanket on his couch. It's a complete outrage—he finally has an evening off and he's forced against his will to spend it watching half-naked guys pelvic-thrust for tips. He considers ditching out early, because how bad would it actually be having a story about his college days posted online? It's not like any of the blog readers knew him personally.
Except...didn't Kuroko have a camera on him the night of his great shame? What if he had photographic evidence? No, the risks were far too great. He'll have to stay put, for the time being.
As Kagami stews in self-pity, the hostess appears again onstage, and immediately Kuroko straightens more in his chair, his face clearly eager, his hands balled into fists on his lap. Kagami vaguely wonders if his best friend has some weird spidey sense when it comes to bangable guys. He tries to refocus his drifting gaze, if only to get a good look at the man they came all this way to see.
Momoi smiles and waves the noise down with her hand.
“Next up, we have someone who is quite new here, yet has already skyrocketed to become the most requested for private parties! Get ready and saddle up, 'cause here comes The Sheriff!”
What’s with the names at this place?
Kuroko’s eyes are sparkling as the next dancer steps on the stage. Decked out in old Western clothes, complete with a ridiculous ten-gallon hat and spurs on his cowboy boots, The Sheriff is indeed looking like he runs the joint. The crowd is hysterical, the women of the group overpowering the sounds of everyone else. And Kagami can see the allure. Kuroko’s boy toy is really good looking. A pretty face fit for model, with shiny blond hair and a tall and lean frame, Kagami’s attention is definitely more focused this time around. He swears he can see the man’s long eyelashes from his seat.
A remixed old-country song begins to play, and then The Sheriff is in action. His set is distinctly different than Hawk Eyes’. He only touches the pole once, and that is to hump against it, imitating the riding of a horse. He interacts with the crowd, pretends to shoot his gun at women who swoon, jumps down from the stage to handcuff random audience members and grind against them in their chairs, steadily removing articles of clothing.
Kuroko is rapt, something like a wry smile on his face as he watches on. Kagami finds that he enjoys watching Kuroko’s reactions more than the actual show. After The Sheriff finishes tying his lasso around a nearly hysterical woman, he finally glances over and notices their table. His practiced grin becomes downright carnivorous, and he slinks over to settle on Kuroko’s lap, his hands braced on his shoulders. Immediately, Kuroko's hands are jumping up to run down The Sheriff's bare chest, across his abs to grip his waist.
“Having a good time, Kurokocchi?” Kagami hears the man purr, slowly circling his hips in Kuroko’s lap. Kuroko's face gives almost nothing away, but a longtime friend like Kagami is able to notice the small changes that give him away—he’s both amused and turned on.
Kagami watches, only slightly uncomfortable watching the full-on grinding going on across from him. The two exchange a few more heated words blocked out by the music, and then The Sheriff returns to the stage for the ending of his set. The crowd screams for him to stay, but he winks and then is gone behind the curtain. Kagami glances at Kuroko, whose eyes are glazed, looking totally blissed-out.
“Ok, I admit he's pretty...uh. Photogenic." Kagami concedes, the after-image of Kuroko and The Sheriff's moment of public passion forever burned into his retinas. He leans closer, raps his knuckles on the table once to make sure he has Kuroko's attention. "After all this trouble you’ve put me through, you better be serious about this.” He says, voice low with an unsaid threat.
Kuroko blinks dazedly, turns his waned awareness to the man across from him. “I'm glad I’ve received your approval, Kagami-kun. I assure you, I have every intention of pursuing him."
Kagami nods, then turns to pay attention as Momoi introduces the next dancer. However, almost as soon as they begin, Kagami truly spaces out. He's barely able to process the next few dancers, his mind at home watching cartoons and raiding his pantry. After what feels like hours, Kagami glances pleadingly at his captor.
“Kuroko, haven’t we stayed long enough? I wanna go home,” He whines, attempting to make his infamous puppy face knowing full well Kuroko’s cold steel heart. Like he expects, he barely gets a glance.
“The show's almost over, Kagami-kun. Just bear with it. Now shush. I believe the next set is about to be performed.” And Kuroko drains the last of his fruity concoction before setting it on the table and giving his undivided attention to the stage. Kagami rolls his eyes and begrudgingly turns to watch as well, given no choice now that his only distraction was also distracted.
Momoi skips on the stage, her smile wide and excited. It’s as if the crowd can sense something big is coming, because the air buzzes with hormones and enthusiasm, and Kagami’s eyes feel a little less droopy.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our headliner this evening. Please put your hands together, for our one and only….” She pauses for dramatic effect, a small, teasing smile on her lips, knowing they're hanging onto her every word. “The Black Panther!” she announces gleefully, then runs offstage like she had just flung a live grenade among the tables.
The noise from the crowd is astronomical. If Kagami thought they were hysterical when The Sheriff was onstage, it's nothing compared to the absolute chaos this Black Panther brings. When the dark shape emerges from the curtains, Kagami can barely hear his own thoughts anymore. The air is alive with pure elation, and he can't help the way his blood buzzes with anticipation. Hopefully this guy will live up to the hype.
When the lights glow on, the man is standing up at the top of the stage, his thumbs hooked into the waistline of his sweatpants, his stance relaxed. Kagami's surprised by his casual outfit, not a gaudy costume piece in sight. It is, however, incredibly douchey. Thin white wife-beater, snap back pulled low over his eyes, bright white sneakers below his baggy black sweats.
For reasons he doesn't understand, Kagami’s heart starts to pound the second the music starts up, the thumping of the bass and his pulse in his ears. He feels enraptured, his eyes glued to the figure as it starts to move.
Cocky. That's the first word Kagami comes up with to describe his exaggerated lazy movements, the arrogant tip of his chin. He saunters across the polished black stage, his mouth curved in a ruthless grin, bright white teeth contrasting sharply with his browned skin. Kagami feels his thumping heart leap into his throat.
Oh my god.
The man wastes no time in starting to dance, his hips rolling effortlessly to the lethargic beat of the music. Kagami knows without listening too closely that the lyrics were at least as filthy as the grimy beat. He’s no performer, but even he can tell that the moves only look easy to pull off because of the dancer’s skill. He alternates between quick movements and slow, teasing rolls of his body. He thrusts his pelvis tantalizingly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth for show, that smirk never leaving his face as Kagami’s mouth goes dry.
He's probably the hottest person I've ever seen.
As the song progresses and Kagami’s sanity evaporates from his brain by the second, the Panther’s dance becomes even more aggressive. He drops to his knees, sliding his hands across his chest and the front of his pants, only to brace himself against ground to give a few quick, sensual thrusts of his hips to an imaginary lover. The women’s screams are nearly deafening and Kagami desperately tries to bring moisture back to his mouth.
Completely without his consent, his mind runs on without him. On his bed, underneath that rolling body. His fingers clenching onto slick hips as he buries his face in a sweaty neck, inhaling the musk and listening to the groans of the man on top of him.
Trying to control his overactive imagination, aware of his scarlet face, he chances a glance at Kuroko, afraid that his inappropriate fantasies are written across his face. His best friend has a way of knowing the exact contents of Kagami’s mind at any given time, no matter how good he thinks his poker face is. But Kuroko is blessedly still watching the dancer, a polite amount of interest on his face, only showing a small fraction of his earlier delight.
The Panther maneuvers himself back to his feet in a graceful half-flip, points his finger at women in the crowd and winks. He tugs the shirt over his head, keeping on his ridiculously douchey hat as he flings the wife-beater into the crowd. Kagami takes a sharp breath upon seeing the defined muscles of his abdomen, rippling as he moves.
The man continues on to the catwalk that runs into the tables, making suggestive eyes at the enraptured audience. He pops his body constantly, giving a generous amount of hip thrusts and flipping his body around with practiced ease. The Panther is almost directly in front of their table and Kagami just can’t look away, from the tan skin temptingly glistening with sweat, the lithe but muscular figure—it's like he's staring at the sun but he just can't get his eyes to avert. Frankly, at this point Kagami feels like the dancer's just showing off. As if reading his mind, the Panther showily backflips off the catwalk into the crowd, the people at the surrounding tables shrieking with glee.
He prowls from table to table like The Sheriff did, giving teasing grinds of his hips against various audience members, turning them into flustered messes. Kagami feels a momentary surge of uncharacteristic jealousy.
He takes these feelings back, however, within half a second as his eyes lock with the Panther's and his heart just about stops. In a strange sense of future intuition, Kagami knows that with this one look he has sealed his fate.
A merciless smirk. Feral, cat-like eyes glinting hungrily at him, Kagami is suddenly struck with dread at the realization that he feels like a rack of lamb laying down at the feet of a lion. He vaguely wonders if his face gives away quite how terrified he is. He’s sure it does.
Feeling cornered, Kagami has no choice but to sit, petrified, as the Panther saunters his way, achingly slowly, until he’s standing right in front of him. Kagami has the chance to breathe deeply, once, before without so much as a warning, he’s bear-hugged, the Panther’s arms wrapped tightly around his middle and lifting him up without so much as a hitch in his breath. Kagami yelps, instinctively wrapping his arms and legs around the dancer like a koala. He knows he is anything but a small man, yet the Panther carries him like he can barely feel the weight in his arms. As he turns around to walk back to the stage, he hoists Kagami up into a more stable position, resulting in his body hanging practically half-way over the man's shoulder. Kagami shoots a panicked glance at his best friend still at the table. Kuroko shows no change in expression from this development except for a very slight widening of his eyes to show his interest and surprise, but otherwise makes no move to help him.
Some friend.
Kagami resigns to his situation and lets himself be manhandled like a sack of potatoes to the stage. Surprisingly gently, the Panther lays him out on his back on the catwalk. His warm fingers linger on Kagami’s sides as he leans down close to his face.
“Lay still and be a good boy,” He breathes, hot and wet into Kagami’s ear. He tries not to shudder, he really does, but he is evidently beyond control of his body right now. His heart is pounding erratically, adrenaline making his limbs tremble.
With a low rumbling chuckle in his chest (no, Kagami's stomach does not flip, thank you very much) the dancer leans away as he jumps back onto the stage. He saunters a bit further up the walk, his back to the audience. He gives no further warning other than a conspiratorial grin over his shoulder before his thumbs are at the waistband of his sweats, easing them down to his ankles.
Jesus Christ.
A hot pink thong.
There are no words in Kagami’s mind other than expletives. The garment’s string is enticingly between the cheeks of the most deliciously muscled ass Kagami has ever seen. He bites his lip, has to remind himself that he is vulnerable in front of many people and getting riled up is a bad idea.
As the dancer turns around again, his eyes only on Kagami, he has to wonder what his role in all this is. What could he possibly be doing laying on this stage that requires the revealing of the Panther’s fluorescent undergarments?
His answer comes all too soon, as the Panther quite literally prowls towards him, slips to his knees and hitches a leg to the other side of Kagami's head. Which leaves Kagami's face stuffed directly into his crotch. Vaguely, Kagami hears the delighted squeals of the women in the crowd, but it's like listening to something underwater, out of focus.
Mouth hanging open, he can only stare and endure, arms at his sides stiff as a board, as the Panther begins slowly rolling his hips, thrusting his crotch further into Kagami’s face. He lets out a very manly squeak as the bulge in front of him comes very close to brushing his nose, and he swears he hears the Panther chuckle. He doesn't know if it's physically possible to be any more flushed. After what seems to be an eternity, the man finally stops his thrusting, removes his leg from the side of Kagami's head, allowing him to sit back up.
“You can go back to your seat now.” He says, giving a soothing pat to Kagami's shoulder, but is anything but as his voice is trembling with laughter.
Nodding numbly, Kagami doesn't bother standing on his feet, instead scooting on his butt to the end of the stage and sliding off, stumbling with his trembling knees. In a daze, he toddles back to their table and falls into his chair. Remembering Kuroko, he spares a glance over to his so-called best friend, who is turned away from him, his slight shoulders shaking in a rare bout of actual laughter.
“Screw you,” Kagami hisses across the table, his cheeks hot.
“I apologize, Kagami-kun,” says Kuroko, turning back and wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “But your face was quite unforgettable.”
He lets out another uncharacteristic snort and covers his mouth with his hand. Scowling, Kagami turns back to the stage just in time for the Panther to give one last roll of his body before bowing to the screaming crowd and turning to leave the stage. He thinks that he catches the man sneaking a wink in his direction before leaving, and the spotlight dims back to black.