Chapter Text
Angel twirls his body around the unforgivingly cold metal of the pole as Warrant’s Cherry Pie plays somewhere off-stage. The music is loud and assaulting, but after a while, he’s gotten used to it.
He’s barely paying attention as he straddles the pole with one leg hiked up, his knee to his chest as he tips his head back and allows his hair to fall out of his face, cascading in soft waves down the nape of his neck.
In comparison to some of the veteran dancers at the club, Angel hadn’t been doing this long- but that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it. He’d watched the other dancers carefully when he’d turned up here. Paid attention to the ways they moved their bodies, how they twirled and contorted themselves into fantasies before men’s eyes. Angel figured he could do it, too. These days, there’s a market for everything.
Tastes so good, make a grown man cry
Who the hell put this on for him? He wonders idly, as he spins around the pole, his eyes wandering around the room, trying to pick out the faces of men who are actually paying attention. He catches a few, their eyes lingering on him as he turns to face the pole head on, the soft click of his heels on the stage audible to only him.
Angel swishes his hips as he turns, the tiny tassels on the bottom hem of his pleather miniskirt grazing his thighs as he does. Carefully, he places one hand on the pole and the other on his hip before he arches his back, leaning in and popping his hip out- shaking his ass to the music as he does.
He makes eye contact with a man seated at the bar who stares back at him with dilated pupils. He looks down quickly, embarrassed, when he sees Angel staring back- but not before Angel flashes him a sweet smile. He seems like someone who might pay for a dance, Angel thinks. A little lip service and he could surely make it happen.
Angel circles the pole again, running a hand through his hair as he does. He strokes his fingertips down the nape of his neck sensually, running his hand down his shoulder blade and then his chest- covered only by the thin fabric of a bedazzled black bralette.
His thumb catches on the string between the two cups covering him, pulling lightly at it as he pushes his chest out and rolls his body back in one graceful movement.
The song is almost over as he scans the club again, looking out across the smattering of faces for other potential customers. At some point, most of them blur together. But there’s one that catches his eye as he scans the room.
He makes the mistake of allowing himself to stare for a second longer, as the man’s eyes drift up from his drink, staring unwaveringly across the room as the music begins to fade out.
Angel’s body shimmies one last time against the cold metal of the pole, his hands pressing up against it as he sticks his ass out and strikes a sultry pose while the song ends. The smirk on the man’s face is unmistakable, even from a distance- even from beneath the dim club lighting.
Angel doesn’t have to wrack his brain to remember the man’s name as he leans down to collect the bills littering the stage. He feels the weight of the impression even as he slinks away- the only eyes still watching him are Valentino’s.
The soft click of Angel’s strappy black heels echo beneath the club music as he makes his way down the side-stage stairs, his eyes fixed on the steps beneath him. He wants to turn the corner when he gets down there, to retreat back to the dressing room- but he knows that his boss wouldn’t dream of letting him off that easily.
Something about needing to be more personable with the customers. You’re not just here to dance, you’re here to make connections, he’d said. Or some other bullshit like that. It didn’t really matter now, Angel figures, as his feet hit the final step. He doesn’t have to look up to know who’s waiting for him at the bottom.
“Angelito,” Valentino’s voice is unmistakable and alluring as ever, cutting through the noise of the club like a blade.
Angel has to decide quickly whether he’s going to play along or not. The fact that he’s at work is the deciding factor, he tells himself. It certainly isn’t the curiosity, the chemistry or the intoxicating mixture of danger and excitement he feels in Valentino’s presence that makes him choose to play nice.
Angel feels a bit like a furtive child- like he’s doing something he’s not supposed to, as he approaches Valentino. The man is dressed in a black suit coat and matching slacks, a white button up shirt with the top three buttons undone and the same gold chain as yesterday dangling from his neck. His hair is slicked back, a single curl sticking out and falling lightly over his forehead in true greaser-like fashion. He looks good enough to eat- and Angel figures, since he’s here- he just might try.
“Valentino,” Angel answers, greeting him with a soft, sultry smile as Valentino reaches his hand out for Angel to take.
Angel doesn’t hesitate. He reaches back, lightly gripping Valentino's hand and allowing him to help him down the final step of the annoyingly steep staircase. If he’d been paying more attention, or maybe if the club had proper lighting in the places that actually needed it- he would’ve descended more gracefully, but instead he trips.
The hairpin heel of his cute strappy shoes betray him as he attempts to steady himself, wobbling across the tile like a newborn deer. Angel is seconds away from ending up on the ground until Valentino’s other hand reflexively darts out- strong fingertips pressing into him as he grabs hold of Angel’s waist.
“Ay! ten cuidado,” Valentino hisses as he holds Angel’s body up, steadying him. “Careful,” he warns Angel, who looks up at him, dazed.
“Thanks,” he breathes, realizing his grip on Valentino's hand had tightened in the process of him attempting to stay upright. “That was a close one,” he laughs in relief, retracting his hand as a bout of nervous giggles begin bubbling up from his lips in little embarrassed bursts.
“Sorry, I just-” Angel laughs again. “You have a habit of running into me at the worst possible times,” he says- the words carrying more truth than he’d intended.
“Worst?” Valentino asks, raising an eyebrow at him in mock-offense. His hand is still on Angel’s waist, which he uses to pull him gently closer, guiding his body until they’re nearly pressed together.
Angel can smell the familiar scent of Valentino’s cologne as he leans in, mouthwateringly warm and spiced. Val cranes his neck down so his lips are at Angel’s ear once again.
“Didn’t you enjoy your time with me last night, cielito?” he asks, his voice a low purr in Angel’s eardrum. He feels a shiver run up his spine, every nerve ending in his body coming to life with Valentino's sudden closeness. “Una noche de magia, no?”
Angel reminds himself that he’s at work, not on the street, before he responds.
“Wanna see another trick, daddy?” Angel asks, his voice a low whisper beneath the club music- an inviting secret that only Valentino can hear.
“Always,” Valentino answers, his fingertips curling around Angel, pressing deeper into his waist with a possessiveness that makes Angel’s thighs tremble.
Angel pulls away slightly, leaving the barest amount of distance between them- just enough for him to measure the man's expression. His lips are pressed into a smirk, coated with a suggestive smugness.
“Buy a dance and I’ll show you,” Angel says, a daring grin peeling out across his lips.
Valentino eyes him for a moment, tilting his head slightly as Angel stares back at him- unwavering.
“Deal,” Val says finally, snaking his arm around Angel’s waist with ease. “Lead the way.”