Chapter Text
There was a regular.
For all intents and purposes, he seemed like a normal enough man. Certainly not as strange or abrasive as some of the others who frequented the club.
Felix liked to think that he knew better, though.
The man was clearly wealthy, the constant cycle of new designer clothing had drawn the attention of more than a few baby strippers who’d assumed that he would be a big spender. Celine is a brand he seems to prefer if the constant dark label is any indication. He never spent much more than the general club fee (in cash, of course, Felix had long since asked the bouncer what the name on the man’s card was, only to receive a shrug in reply), and the allure of potential wealth had faded after the first few times the man showed up.
The man was quiet, rarely talking more than was necessary to make his way into the club. Felix could count the number of times he’d heard him speak on one hand and have extra fingers to spare.
(Quiet men are always interesting in this line of work. Felix used to think they were mysterious and important and now knows that they’re just a more subtle sort of pervert.)
And, the strangest part about it all, was the way the man always wore a dark face mask, even going out of his way to pull it far up, over his nose, covering the largest amount of space possible.
Didn’t cover his beauty mark, though, and if it were any other man, Felix would coo over it and fawn over how sweet it made him look.
If Felix had to guess, he’d say the man was a pimp.
If Felix had to make a second, more charitable, guess, he’d say the man was shy.
Curiosity ate at him and he was genuinely proud of himself for holding off for this long, but when the man walked into the club and sat himself down on a Wednesday night when the floor was more or less dead, the last bit of his tenuous self control snapped. “I’m talking to him,” he said, thinking out loud to himself, one of the other dancers giving a disinterested little ’hmm?’ as he slipped from the stage and started towards where the man had settled himself for the night.
The dancers had been content to ignore him after a few weeks of not tipping, and Felix could see the confusion that played in the man’s eyes when he walked up. A smile toying at the corners of his lips.
He already knew tips and private dances were out of the question, so he took it as an opportunity to be more direct than he necessarily would’ve been otherwise. It was deader today than it’d been in a long while, and he figured that if money wasn’t going to be spent on him, he may as well spend his own time on the man.
“Hi,” he said, having to speak louder as music thrummed through the surround-sound system. The club owner had replaced it and Felix had yet to grow used to the way the bass seemed to vibrate through his chest now. “You got any plans for tonight? It’s a little slow,” he said, a more genuine grin spreading across his face as the man’s eyes widened at the sound of his voice.
That party trick was never going to get old.
The man blinked, his fingers idly toying with the edges of his coat, fidgeting, and that was all it took for Felix to learn that his second guess had been the more accurate one.
He could hear, over the sound of the music, the leather of the seat creaking as the man tried to readjust himself, and if the sudden stiffness of his shoulders was anything to go by, the man had heard it as well. Embarrassed at how the seat had made a noise when he moved? Felix was almost charmed.
“I didn’t have any plans in particular,” was what the man finally settled on, and Felix hummed. His voice was smooth, nice to listen to, and he felt that it suited him.
“Me neither,” Felix shrugged, moving to sit on the arm of the chair, letting his extensions slip over the line of his shoulders, the man’s eyes darting to follow the motion. “I know I’m the entertainer of the two of us, but d’you think you could entertain me with a little conversation?” Another grin crossed his face, his eyes crinkling at the edges with it, and he could see the instant the man had made his choice.
“Sure,” he said it fast, like the word had tried to escape him and Felix couldn’t hide the way he giggled at that. “I’m not sure if I’d be the best to talk to but, sure.”
If this guy was a pimp, he was scarily good at playing a shier role, and scarily dedicated at scouting out a location for new people.
Felix hummed, steadily ignoring the way some of the other dancers had paused to look at the two of them. 12am on a Wednesday and it hadn’t gotten busier? He could imagine that a handful of them would start filtering out soon and try their luck another day.
“Tell me about your day,” he said, the request simple enough, unable to think of anything else and hoping that a generic conversation starter would help. “Mine started a bit late because I work night shift,” he grinned, “nothing too interesting on my end, though. I’d love to hear about yours.”
Whenever the man spoke it was muffled the slightest bit by his mask, and Felix had to strain to hear over the deep percussive thud of the club mix.
“Today was… busy.” Felix hummed, attentive, giving him a chance to keep going. He looked at the man, idly taking in his dark hair, long enough to be pulled up into a half-ponytail, the other half of it just barely reaching his shoulders. “My job’s just a lot, there was a lot of reviewing today.” The man sighed, his hand moving up to adjust the fabric of his mask, and Felix resisted the urge to fawn over him. “It was tiring.”
A businessman, then? Some type of ritzy office job? Felix tried to imagine the man as some sort of office manager, or important personal assistant, but it still felt a bit off.
Who knows, maybe cute-mole was some sort of mob boss. That’d be funny.
“That’s hard,” he said, gentle, conversation always having come easy to him even before he’d started in this line of work. “You can tell me more about it, if you want. I’ve seen you around a lot and I’d hate to see a regular so down.” Felix shifted the hand he’d braced against the arm of the chair, wriggling his fingers, catching the man’s attention and offering his hand up.
Cute-mole didn’t take it, but Felix could see the way he swallowed, his adams apple bobbing with the motion. He did press his own hand against Felix’s, though, skittish, unable to commit to holding his hand but still wanting to touch regardless.
His fingers were cold but his skin baby-soft and something about the idea of this man having his own skincare routine had him struggling to hold down a laugh.
It took a small while before the man spoke, his voice a lower rasp than it had been before. “It’s embarrassing to admit, but I come here after work is rough.” Cute, Felix could see how being in such a different place would be enough to get your mind off of a rough shift. The nightlife district offered a lot of options though, and the fact that cute-mole liked the club enough to pick it out from the other choices was sweet.
At this point it was second nature to say anything in order to keep potential spenders coming back, but Felix found that when he spoke, he actually meant it this time. “You can tell me about it whenever you come in,” he said, pitching his voice lower, not quite wanting the other dancers to hear. Something about the offer felt far more personal than asking someone if they wanted a lap dance, or wanted to do body shots off his stomach. “I probably won’t be able to do it outside of a private room on other nights, considering how slow it is right now, but I’d always be down to lend an ear if you want to talk.”
It would’ve been stranger offering if cute-mole were far older than he was, but Felix could fathom a guess that they were near the same age. Something about the familiarity made him feel better about offering.
“I’d like that,” he said, and Felix grinned, pleased at the way he could see spots of color appear high on the man’s cheekbones, clear even in the vivid neon lighting of the club floor. Felix was more than content to let the air settle further between them, but the man kept going, as if nervous when their conversation lapsed. “I know I show up a lot but I never really know what to do.”
Ah, first club jitters then? It made sense, the guy didn’t really give off the same confident energy that other regulars did and he’d floundered when Felix had walked up to him.
“That’s alright,” he laughed, letting his fingers run soothingly against the side of cute-mole’s hand, pleased when he could feel him relax. “When you show up just ask for ‘Felix,’ alright? I’ve got your back.”
The answering “okay” was small, but if Felix read him correctly, he sounded happy enough.
The sound of the main doors opening were loud from the club entrance, but Felix ignored it. He’d be able to recoup his losses by working the next day, he could afford to ignore a few potential customers. “Can I ask what your name is?” He prodded, gentle, cute-mole’s hand stiffening, the man almost immediately unnerved.
Felix could figure that someone who looked to be a professional (or at least that he had a lot to lose) would be wary about sharing his name, and he was quick to soothe any ruffled feathers. “Fake names work too, I’ve just been calling you “cute-mole” in my head and I figured that’s not quite a good enough name.”
It earned him a startled laugh, the man going all flustered for a second before answering. “If fake names are alright, then you could always call me, uh-” a pause, Felix pursing his lips, more amused than he’d felt in a long while as he watched him try to wrack his mind for anything useful. “Ferret?” It sounded like a question, and Felix couldn’t have hid his laugh if he tried, shifting to lightly swat at the man (Ferret’s) arm.
“That’s too cute,” he said, meaning it for once, genuine in his complement, giddiness bubbling inside him at finally finding a patron who could be described as cute. “Ferret is great, I love that.”
Ferret was absolutely close in age to him, if the way his voice pitched upwards when he gave an answering laugh was any indication. “I’m glad you like it,” and oh, he sounded so pleased with himself for making Felix laugh. It was charming.
Charming customers were always disarming. Something about being half-dressed in front of guys who acted sweet or women who were gentle with the dancers was far, far more difficult than being around the ones that snapped their fingers and demanded bottle service to be rendered instantly.
“Glad you chose this place as your haunt, Ferret.” Felix said, grinning, adjusting himself on the arm of the chair, unable to ignore the way Ferret’s eyes darted down to his thighs for a brief second before slipping back up to his face. “I don’t think the other places in this district deserve you.” It was a weird comment to make about a regular that was so notoriously stingy that most dancers ignored him on their rounds of asking if anyone was interested in a lap dance or a private session, but Felix couldn’t help but mean it.
“Well,” Ferret said, voice stuttering the smallest bit, halting and uncertain, before continuing. “The strippers here are a lot better than the ones anywhere else in the district.”
The bluntness of the word “stripper” always bothered him (even if that was what he was) but Felix cooed all the same, some part of him thrilled at the complement, flattered despite it all.
Normally he would brush complements off, taking them with a grain of salt considering being desirable enough to complement was his job, but he kept pressing, just to satisfy his own curiosity.
It was a slow night, after all.
“Really? Better how?” He asked, teasing, savoring the way he could see color spread across Ferret’s face. “Are we sexier? Funnier, maybe?”
He didn’t expect Ferret to avert his eyes and give a small “prettier, actually.”
He hid his surprise under a fake gasp, faux-shocked, leaning back and pressing his hand against his chest. “I can’t believe the flirt you’ve been hiding from us all this whole time! You’re so unfair, Ferret, how was I meant to prepare myself for that?” He whined, pitching his voice higher, earning him another genuine laugh.
The gentle poking and prodding seemed to work, and Felix was endlessly grateful. Managing to make Ferret feel comfortable enough to talk felt like a massive accomplishment.
Time dragged between them, the glittering mosaics of the stage floor burned in his peripheral, refracting off the clear-plastic pleasers some of the dancers wore, having managed to cajole the newcomers into a few dances. The owner of the club liked glitter, liked pretty things, seemed to almost map out the floor plan based on what would result in the most eye-bleedingly vibrant kaleidoscope of colors.
Felix didn’t even want to look at the glass rows of liquors and liqueurs that lined the wall behind the bar, knowing already that looking would burn after-reflections of it into the backs of his eyelids.
Ferret seemed comfortable enough in the neon of the club. Awkward, a little unsteady on his feet, but not uncomfortable.
Who knows, maybe Ferret was some sort of entertainer too.
He snorted at the thought, earning himself an amused look from Ferret, the man feeling familiar enough with him to tease back.
A moment passed between them, relaxed, Ferret’s gaze refusing to stray away from Felix, entirely disinterested in the other dancers. “Is it…” his voice trailed off, going a bit lower in his shyness, and Felix dragged the backs of his knuckles against his forearm, feeling daring enough to offer comfort to a man he hardly knew. “Is it alright if I ask you about the next day you’ll be in?”
And Felix could only grin, his legs swinging from where they hung over the edge of the seat, needing to get at least a little of his excitement out of his system. “That’s more than alright,” he said, pausing to think. They were able to show up on basically any day, so long as they paid the door fee to dance. His schedule was more than a little irregular but- “I should be in on Friday, and I’m here pretty much every Saturday.”
“Friday, then,” Ferret said, oddly final, Felix snorting again, terribly amused.
“I’ll be a little busier on Friday,” he said, feeling the need to warn him and emphasize that tonight fucking sucked in terms of club activity. “I’ve got a handful of regulars that show up that day, and I’ve got two sets on stage with some of the other dancers.” Felix could see the small amount of hurt in Ferret’s face, and was quick to soothe him, shifting his hand to brush at the tips of his hair. A shudder ran through him, and Felix let his voice edge into a lower register. “I’ll make time for you though, don’t worry.”
He was treated, again, to seeing him blush. This time the color spread up to his ears.
The sound of the final call buzzer brought him back to reality, and he grinned. “We’re gonna be closing up here soon, fair warning.”
“Oh, yeah, okay,” Ferret said, scrambling a little, Felix having the common decency to glance away as the man figured himself out. There was a light bump against his thigh, the other man jostling him in his new stress, and Felix had to hide a laugh behind his hand. When Ferret stood from the seat, Felix slid off from where he’d been perched.
The other man was taller than him, not exactly a difficult task, but Felix couldn’t help but like it anyway.
“I’ll see you Friday,” Felix said, breaking the new silence between them, Ferret just giving him a quick nod, still flustered.
He left with the other small group of customers that filtered out, one of the other dancers turning on the main flood lights when the place was cleared out. Felix blinked past the sudden shock of light, resisting the urge to rub at his eyes as he made his way back to the dressing room.
The tinny music from two dancers phones warred against each other, both of them opting out of wearing earbuds, and Felix just rolled his eyes, making a beeline for his locker.
He dug around in his bag for makeup wipes, the thin plastic of the container crinkling as he grabbed it, the steady burn in the muscles of his thighs making itself aware when he stood back up. Fumbling with the top, he pulled out a few as he walked over to the large mirrors, one of the other dancers already lightly pulling off her false lashes.
She tutted at him when he walked up, clicking her tongue and pursing her lips. Felix grinned, able to suss out her amusement despite the front she put on. “You gotta pay closer attention, Lixie, that bill’s about to fall out of your garter.”
He barked out a laugh, drawing one of the wipes against his cheek, foundation and blush coming off with it. She tutted, again, plucking one of the wipes from where he’d set them down, swiping it across her eyelid, vibrant colors smearing off onto the wipe. “Not kidding, angel, I think your new guy left you a little surprise.” And Felix’s heart stuttered in his chest, doing something funny and unnameable.
He shifted, lifting his thigh, glancing down at the dark garter that sat against it, a flustered noise forcing its way from his throat at the sight of the brightly colored (high value(!!!)) won bill trapped beneath the elastic.
The small bump from earlier replayed in his mind and another noise left him, strangled, the woman next to him laughing as she cleaned her face up. “What a sneaky man, he’s lucky he’s handsome.”
“No one’s even seen his face,” Felix said, voice faint, a guttural snort of laughter leaving the other dancer.
“Oh, trust me angel, I can tell.”
୨♡୧
He’d been home for an hour, but his heart hadn’t stopped hammering in his chest.
Hyunjin knew he shouldn’t have stayed out that late, knew that each time he went to that club that he ran the risk of irreparably damaging his reputation if he were caught. He also knew that Chan, even with his gentle words and constant encouragement, would be a little firm in telling Hyunjin that he should, in no uncertain terms, absolutely not go to a strip club that primarily catered to gay clientele.
The thought of the media finding out about it made him feel lightheaded with stress. There was a lot that Chan and the other members could do, but mitigating the gossip and inevitable critique from all sides that would come from the reveal would be near-impossible.
He knew this, but he didn’t want to stop.
A sigh left him, heavy in his chest, and he drew his hands up to his face, rubbing the heel of his palms against his eyelids until he could see stars.
Hyunjin wasn’t stupid, he knew that strippers were supposed to be nice, supposed to give you attention and be sweet, but he still couldn’t get Felix out of his head.
He’d been pretty, he’d always been pretty, each time he’d visited the club. He looked like a fairy, it was almost unbelievable. He’d been attentive and kind and had accepted the fact that Hyunjin couldn’t give him his real name with a sort of ease that astonished him.
Hyunjin was fucked, to put it lightly.