literature

Like A Polaroid Picture- Vio (1)

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“I really do not think this is necessary,” Vio grumbled, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his oversized peacoat. The sunglasses he was wearing slipped down his nose, and he shoved them back up in irritation. “Why do we have to be incognito for this?”

“Come on, Vio,” Blue scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Do you really think the competition will just let us waltz in there like nothing?”

“Yes, I do, because we are paying customers.”

“C’mon guys, chill out,” Green said from Vio’s other side, making a calming gesture with one hand (the other still slung across Vio’s shoulders).

“I cannot believe I am paying to visit a nightclub just to watch a rival entertainer’s routine,” Vio mused, watching the condensation from his breath wafting away on the cold autumn breeze. “What would my mother say?”

“Probably ‘why did you become a stripper, where did I raise my darling boy wrong’,” said Blue with a  chuckle. “I know that’s what my mom said.”

“We still don’t tell her where we work,” said Green ruefully. “Blue has his construction work, but I just say that I’m interning with a very profitable business and leave it at that.”

“Clever,” said Vio. “And technically true.”

The three of them fell silent as they approached their destination: the newly opened nightclub, Dark World, that had been getting raving reviews from every source possible and siphoning away their customer base. The line for the door stretched halfway around the block; there were at least five or six bouncers checking IDs at the vast double doors.

Vio could hear the music from where he stood, and as they drew closer he began to feel the bass rumbling through the soles of his boots. “I would hate to live around here,” he muttered under his breath. “Imagine trying to sleep through this.”

“Shoddy soundproofing,” Green agreed. “I’d like to get ahold of their contractors and have a word with them.”

“So, are we going to wait in line?” Vio asked, motioning towards the steadily-growing mass of people. “I for one do not fancy standing in the cold for half the night.”

“Nah.” Blue pulled a bundle of paper out of one pocket, separating three strips and handing one each to Green and Vio. “I got a couple of VIP passes from a friend who visited on opening night. Just hand ‘em to the bouncer and he’ll send you through. We’ll have to separate, though—meet up by the bathrooms around 1:30, okay?”

“Wait,” said Vio, nerves starting to coil in the pit of his stomach. “We are separating? I thought—“

“We’re very recognizable,” said Green, sounding apologetic. “Even with the sunglasses and the slouchy hats. Just relax, take in the sights, maybe get a lapdance from a hot girl, or a hot guy, whatever floats your boat. Here—“ He handed Vio a thick wad of one-rupee bills.

“I don’t know about this,” Vio protested, but Blue put a hand on the small of his back and shoved him forward just far enough to catch the bouncer’s attention. “I—ah.”

“ID and pass,” grunted the bouncer, holding out a thick, meaty hand.

Vio handed them over without a word.

The bouncer scanned them over with a beady eye, handed them back to Vio, and motioned him in with a jerk of his thumb. “VIP section’s over the stage. Follow the purple lights up the stairs. Someone’ll come by with drinks.”

“Thank you,” said Vio, shoving the sunglasses further up his nose as if they were armor, and entered.

The moment he stepped past the threshold the music hit him like a physical wave, thrumming in his bones, his teeth. The dance floor was packed, neon lights flickering across the walls and the floor, lighting up the air with firefly glimmers in every color imaginable.

There was indeed a walkway bordered by tiny purple lights. Vio followed it between two separate dance floors, past a bar (he paused for a moment to admire the bartender’s handiwork; the man was a master at flipping bottles and showboating) and up a small staircase to a raised dais set across from the main stage.

There was a coat rack next to a circular table with five or six chairs; Vio stripped off the peacoat and tucked the sunglasses into one pocket, as it was far too dark inside to wear them. He kept the hat on, no matter how ridiculous it made him feel, and sat at the table, propping his elbow there and dropping his head into his hands.

What was he doing here? This whole ridiculous scheme had been Green and Blue’s idea from the start, and the only reason that Red hadn’t tagged along was because he had to watch his niece and nephew for the evening. Vio was so new to the night club, he hadn’t wanted to say no and risk offending his senior coworkers, but this?

This was madness. His life was madness. He was a newly-minted stripper, come to spy on another newly-minted stripper to find out anything he could. Stripper espionage, he thought mournfully. My life is absurd.

“Hey there, handsome,” said a voice next to his ear, breaking him out of his reverie. He gasped before he could help it, jerking upwards. “Woah there, babe,” said whoever it was, holding out their hands in the universal gesture for “I come in peace”. “You’re looking pretty somber for someone surrounded by all this.”

Vio took a moment to look him over. The stranger was tall, about as tall as Green and Blue from what he could estimate. They were slim, wiry almost, with shaggy chin-length hair that Vio could not tell the color of. Their nose was sharp, pointed, their eyes dark. They wore a simple t-shirt and skinny jeans that showed off the graceful lines of their legs.

“I suppose I am,” said Vio warily. “This is not… I do not usually do this.”

“First time?” The person (male, Vio could tell after a moment) said, sounding sympathetic. “A little overwhelming?”

“Yes,” Vio nodded. “That is exactly it. There’s just… so much.”

“I feel ya,” said the man. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Please, feel free.” Vio waved a hand at the seat beside him, and the man took it with a smile that showed almost too-many teeth.

(His canines were ever-so-slightly pointed. Vio wondered if it was just a trick of the light.)

“So,” said the man, leaning a little too close into Vio’s personal space. “Friends ditch you?”

“You could say that, yes.” Vio shrugged, a little helpless. “I could not even begin to guess where they would be in this crowd.”

“Amazing, isn’t it?” The stranger looked across the sea of heads with what Vio thought might be an almost-fond expression. “They’re all here to be entertained, and we have to do our best to entertain them.”

“So you work here?” asked Vio before he could stop himself. “Just on your break, or haven’t clocked in yet?”

“Slacking off, actually,” said the man with a wolfish grin. “I’ve got to be back at my post in about five minutes or so. You gonna be here for a while? I’ll send someone over with drinks, on the house.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—“ Vio tried to protest, but the man held up one slim, calloused finger, pressing it to Vio’s lips.

Vio had never thought he was the type of person who would want to have an anonymous hookup in a nightclub, but for a brief moment he fantasized about what would happen if he leaned forward, wrapped his lips around that finger, maybe nipped it, watched those dark eyes widen, get even darker, and then—

“I insist,” said the man with a smirk. “I think you’ll need it before the night is done.” He stood up, hand on the back of Vio’s chair. “Can I get your name before I go, hot stuff?”

“It’s Vio,” he said before he could help himself.

“Vio,” the man all but purred. “I’ll remember that. I’ll remember you. Sit tight, sweet thing, your drinks will be right over.”

As he walked away, Vio indulged himself by blatantly oogling his ass.

It was a fine ass.

True to his word, Vio was sipping on a mojito within two minutes, watching the lights on the main stage pulse and sway. Around him the crowd was cheering, bouncing up and down to the latest music, before it cut off, lights dimming until the main stage was swathed in darkness. Instead of calming, the people grew even louder, wilder.

“And now,” said a deep voice from the loudspeakers. “What you’ve all been waiting for—Dark World’s very own Shadowed Hero!”

Every light in the nightclub switched to blacklight, every white article of clothing suddenly standing out in sharp relief. Someone screamed a cheer, someone else snapped a glowstick into life, and within moments the crowd was a sea of neon light, glowsticks flying every which way, glowstick jewelry being donned everywhere he looked.

The table under Vio’s arms moved.

He jerked backwards; it slid away from him, tucking itself down into the floor, and he barely managed to rescue his mojito before it disappeared. His glass was almost empty. He drained it in a few swallows and set it on the seat beside him.

When he looked back up the man from before was there.

“Hello again, Vio,” he purred, his hand reaching over to grab onto a pole rising from the floor where the table once was. “Call me Shadow.”

Shadow. Dark World’s headlining dancer.

Vio’s stomach plummeted.

He’d ditched the shirt, Vio noted in the back of his mind as the music flared to life again and Shadow started curving himself around the pole. The lights shone off his bare torso, outlining every little ridge of muscle, the curve of his biceps, the ripple of his abdomen as he reached upwards, grabbed the pole, and pulled himself off the ground as if he weighed nothing.

The crowd went wild. Vio could see Shadow’s wolfish grin as he spun, pulled himself up until he could wrap the back of his knee around the pole, twirling until he was upside down, then releasing it with his hands and gesturing to the crowd, a little “gimme” motion.

Dollar bills flooded the stage, and over the music Vio heard Shadow laugh.

Perhaps the mojito gave him courage; perhaps he just found it on his own, but Vio pulled the wad of bills from his pocket, teased one out, crumpled it for maximum aerodynamics, and the next time Shadow flipped his way he tossed it so it landed smack on the bridge of his nose.

Shadow’s eyes locked on his. With the lights bright on them, Vio saw they were a deep wine-red.

As if it was choreographed (who knew, perhaps it was), Shadow eeled down from the pole, graceful as a cat, his pants loose around his hips. He made a motion—a little wiggle, some sort of shimmy—spun back around, hooked himself around the pole once more, a quick motion, a full-body ripple, and his pants were flying off into the crowd, landing on one lucky person’s face.

He turned his attention back to Vio.

Vio couldn’t stop staring.

Every inch of him was toned, muscular, and Vio could see it all, dressed as Shadow was in nothing more than skin-tight silver-toned briefs. The music pulsed and Shadow wriggled, pale and muscled and perfect, red eyes flashing with humor and exhilaration at the cheers from the crowd.

Vio lost himself briefly in the music, in the mood, watched Shadow swing and flip and contort himself into what looked like impossible positions, one hand casually grabbing his abandoned mojito glass and holding it in front of himself.

Then Shadow slid down again, both feet on the floor, turning to face Vio with a predatory expression.

Vio swallowed.

He approached, slowly, hips swinging, nudging chairs aside until he had a clear ring around Vio. The crowd cheered all the louder, as if in anticipation of what was about to happen.

“I promised you a good time,” said Shadow, leaning over Vio’s chair from behind, his breath tickling the tip of Vio’s pointed ear. Vio couldn’t stop his full-body shudder.

“This is not precisely what I had in mind,” he said, hoarse.

Shadow only chuckled. “Just you wait, hot stuff.”

Then the music started again and he spun around, dropped to his knees in front of Vio. The blacklight set every single tooth gleaming as he ran his hands up Vio’s thighs, his chest, curled them into Vio’s hair and tugged his head down as he undulated his hips.

Vio took a quiet moment to admire Shadow’s complete control of his body, and also to try and quell the erection threatening to break the zipper of his pants. When Shadow let go he took a deep breath in relief, thinking he was going to head back to the pole, back towards the crowded masses cheering his name.

Instead Shadow grabbed a second fistful of his hair and dragged him into what could only loosely be called a kiss.

It was openmouthed, hot and filthy, Shadow practically fucked his mouth with his tongue (which proved to be just as dexterous as the rest of his body) and when he pulled away Vio couldn’t breathe.

“Meet me by the back as soon as I’m done,” Shadow whispered into his ear, taking the tip into his mouth and running his tongue along the shell. “Head straight past the main stage and just to the side of the bar.”

Vio could only nod. Shadow rewarded him with a nip to the ear, making him shiver again. He could barely concentrate through the rest of Shadow’s routine, only looking up when the music lowered and the crowd noise grew.

The regular lights returned, the DJs starting the music once more. Vio sat until he could be sure his legs would not give out under him, then grabbed his peacoat, folding it and holding it in front of himself as he slipped through the crowd. He followed Shadow’s directions exactly; the bouncer at the “NO ENTRY ALLOWED” door looked him over and then motioned him through with a nod of his head.

The back rooms were dimly lit; Vio emerged into a hallway filled with costumes. He followed it until it met with another hall, doors along each side. One opened—Shadow grinned at him from around the doorframe and beckoned him forth. In the normal fluorescent lights, his hair was a deep purple.

What are you doing, Vio asked himself helplessly. You came here to observe, to map out exits, to calculate numbers, not to fuck the headliner in the back of his dressing room. What are you doing?

He received nothing but a mental shrug in return, and with his heart in his throat he stepped inside.

Shadow closed the door after him, took his coat and draped it on a nearby desk. He’d put pants back on, Vio was happy to see (or was he? He couldn’t decide), but his shirt hung unbuttoned from his shoulders, exposing a creamy pale swath of skin from neck to hips. Vio tried his hardest not to look, to keep his eyes up towards Shadow’s face.

“Why—“ he started, cringing a bit when his voice caught. “Why did you…”

“Kiss you?” Shadow asked, lounging against the door, his thumbs hooked into his pockets. Every inch of him looked boneless, and Vio would have thought him relaxed if it wasn’t for the intentness of his eyes. He shrugged. “You’re hot, you looked lonely, and I promised you a good time. Was it good for you, baby?” he leered.

“Do not call me baby,” Vio said flatly, and Shadow tipped his head back and laughed. Vio entertained a brief fantasy of licking his way up that neck, biting into the hollow behind his ear.

Shadow stepped forward, still chuckling, and cupped his hand around Vio’s jaw. “Alright,” he said, “I won’t call you baby. For now. You never answered me, though.”

“It…was good, yes,” said Vio after a long moment’s pause. He leaned into the hand, very slightly, and Shadow’s thumb stroked his cheek.

“Good,” said Shadow, and leaned forward to kiss him again. It was a much gentler kiss, with much less showboating—a simple brush of lips, Shadow’s breath warm against his skin. Vio leaned into him, his arms tentatively coming up to wrap around Shadow’s waist. Shadow hummed in approval, deepened the kiss, and Vio opened up to him.

They spent a pleasant few minutes, Shadow’s hand sneaking under Vio’s shirt, resting warm on his hips as he mouthed his way along Vio’s jaw, Vio’s hand cupping the back of his neck. He was tentatively reaching towards the bare skin of Shadow’s torso when a knock at the door made him jump.

Shadow sighed, rolled his eyes, and didn’t move. “What?” he called.

“Manager wants to see you,” said a voice from the other side, and Shadow groaned.

“Tell him I’ll be there in ten,” he said, leaning back down to give Vio one last kiss. “Duty calls,” he said, and Vio could see honest regret on his face. “Gimme your phone.”

“What,” said Vio, mind still catching up, but Shadow had a hand in his pocket before he could make a move. He dialed something. A phone rang on the other side of the room.

“Good. My number’s in your phone now. I’ll call you,” said Shadow. “If that’s alright, that is.”

Vio ran a hand through his mussed hair, trying to get it in some semblance of order. “Yes,” he said slowly, surprised. “Please do. On the other hand, if this is how you treat all your VIP customers, please do not.”

Shadow smiled, a softer look than the others Vio had seen tonight. “Nah,” he said. “Just the hot new spy from the strip club down the street.”

While Vio sputtered, he buttoned up his own shirt, running a hand through his hair, and kissed Vio square on the mouth. “See you around,” he said. “You can get out the way you came. Tell your hot coworkers I said hi.”

With that he left, and after a moment to compose himself Vio did the same, meeting up with Green and Blue at the bathrooms like they’d planned. He said nothing about what he’d been doing, merely listened to them talk about the shape of the rooms, the maximum capacity, the length of the bar and the types of alcohol, and how the glowsticks were a neat touch.

When they came to the subway he parted with a wave, riding the train back to his apartment, replaying the night back over again in his head.

Here now, away from the music and the alcohol and the allure of Shadow’s eyes, he could be objective. He’d been caught up in the moment, caught up in the almost electric attraction that he’d felt for Shadow, and that Shadow had very clearly returned. It was flattering, to say the least.

And yet.

He’d practically been dry-humping Vio on stage. Vio flushed at the memory; he couldn’t believe he’d just sat there and let it happen.

You were drunk, he tried to reconcile himself. You were drunk and distracted, and he really is very attractive.

And yet.

He didn’t know if he wanted Shadow to call him. He didn’t know anything about him, aside from his eyes and his body…and his kindness towards a lone, uncomfortable stranger.

Of course, making him more uncomfortable had been anything but kind. Vio shook his head to clear his mind, getting off at his stop, and walked the few blocks back to his apartment trying to think of nothing at all.

Tomorrow, at work, he’d discuss most of what he’d found out with the others. Nayru would be scandalized to hear of the disappearing table. Din would love the blacklight idea. Red would want to buy as many glowsticks as possible.

Farore would want him to demonstrate, Hylia help him.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Hours later, when he was in bed, he received a text message, containing a picture of his stupid slouchy hat resting atop messy purple hair.
so this is the first story in my new project, the four swords stripperverse 
someone needs to revoke my fanfic license

if you want behind the scenes content and quality blogging, come visit my tumblr at winged-obsessor.tumblr.com !
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Rikuta-Yue's avatar
*screams because this is absolutely perfect*