Dean Kunlatorn

“My most trusted advisor,” Zayn replied with a cheeky grin. “I want you to take me home with you and fuck me until I can’t remember who I am.” Dean had taken him apart in the most delicious way last time they were together. He had a feeling the Dominant had even more to offer, more pleasure to pull out of the time spent with him. 

“Oh no,” he said, teasing as he continued to sway his hips, writhing in Dean’s lap.. “You’re to sit right there and enjoy. I’ll do all the touching.” He reached back over his shoulder to let a hand gently grip the back of Dean’s head, craning his own neck to face the Dominant as if to kiss him, but lingering just out of reach. 

He was going to have a lot of fun with Dean tonight. 

Dean let out a small grunt of approval. He could certainly take Zayn home and fuck him straight into the ground for as long as he wanted. “Oh? You know, I should charge for that,” he teased, smirking as the sub continued to writhe in his lap.

God, how could a lap dance feel so good?

Dean leaned into Zayn’s touch, ready to kiss the submissive, but he stayed just out of reach. “You know bad subs don’t get orgasms, right?” he said lowly, irritated by the tease. He wanted to taste the other man, wanted to kiss him until his lips were sore and bruised and all he could think about was the dominant he was grinding on.

Sunny sits at a bench at the park with a freshly opened set of pencils perched on his knees. Occasionally his fingers dart over each one, slide across the length of lacquered soft wood and slip away. It’s funny that this seems luxurious and not the expensive watch that is strapped to his wrist. 

The watch he’ll sell later, but the pencils are the first thing he bought for himself in a long, long while. He picks one, and turns to the person next to him on the bench: “Can I draw you?”

There was something wrong with Dean and he knew it. But how could he possibly deny the opportunity to sit down with the familiar twink? The last time he’d seen him, it’d been too hot to think about flirting or God forbid, sex. But things were different now. The power was back on. Life was looking up.

“Only if you draw me like one of your French girls,” Dean replied, stretching his long longs out in front of himself in an attempt to pose.

No power, heat, storms , rain, I think we’re good for now don’t you think?  Can we just have a small break, or something?  I for one would like to have my sleep schedule back to somewhat normal.  How is everyone else doing?

Dean furrowed his brows, more than a little confused by the question. “Yo, firecrotch - you wind up popping too many pills? Who are you talking to here?” he asked. 

Zayn let himself climb into Dean’s lap, hips already swaying slightly to the music playing. “I’ve been told I’m not to lose anymore panties. It’s bad business when you’re a stripper. But I can offer a trade. The panties I’m wearing now are pretty, aren’t they?” 

Maybe he let the boundaries of the private dance blur a little bit when he ground his hips down against Dean’s. He turned so that his back was to Dean, staying in the Dominant’s lap as he rolled his hips. 

“Oh? Who told you that?” Dean asked, dutifully keeping his hands to his sides as Zayn danced. “But if I have to, I’ll take a trade. Tell me what you want, baby, and I’ll give it to you.”

The sad part was he wasn’t lying. Dean hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d found his white whale - this beautiful submissive that he wanted to pin to his bed and utterly ruin. Every move that Zayn made was hypnotizing and it was so damn distracting.

“Mm... so - since you’re playing dirty,” Dean started, groaning as Zayn turned his back to him. “I’m assuming it’s okay to touch now?”

It wasn’t the most fun, stripping for a mostly empty club, but Zayn needed the money, needed the routine of doing his job. He crumbled without it, filling the extra time with more bad choices. So he got on stage, worked the pole, stripped, smiled as the customers slide their tips into his panties.

When he saw Dean walked up to the stage, Zayn flashed him a big grin, thinking back to the last time he saw the Dominant. He’d thought about stealing Dean’s number from Mali, going for another round, as out of character that was for him. Seeing that hundred dollar bill now, Zayn laughed and tucked it into his shorts. 

“Sure is, Big Spender,” he replied with a wink. He reached for Dean’s hand and hopped off of the stage. Still gripping the man’s hand, he led Dean to one of the private rooms in the back, pushing him down into one of the comfortable chairs there. “Lucky you. You caught me right at the end of my shift. Almost missed me.” 

Dean grinned and followed Zayn back the private room, more than happy to let himself be pushed back into the chair. His eyes raked across the submissive’s body.

“Fuck - well, I guess I’m lucky,” he shrugged, biting his bottom lip as he met Zayn’s eyes again. “I still have your panties. You should come back by and leave another pair for me sometime.”

Tonight, the bar looked dismal - few people were taking the chance to get stuck out past curfew. The only good thing Dean could see was the blond currently dancing onstage. Though he’d changed his hair and gotten himself a new piercing, there was no denying his white whale was up there on the stage.

Dean made his way straight to the stage, looking up at the other man with a small little smile. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill - an unthinkable amount for him - and reached up to put it straight in Zayn’s hand.

“That enough for a private dance?” he asked, brows raised.

“Is that so?” Sunny cocked his head. What a glowing self review. “How much does five minutes of grunting and rolling around to fall asleep go for these days?” 

Ah, another red flag. A man in the shitty side of Port Cado who happened to carry around a wrench in the trunk of his car. It wasn’t a hard deduction to make. He finished the warm soda in his glass, after another brief debate with himself, Sunny wiped the sweat off his palms and stood up. Outside the bright sun had him glaring, with a hand over his hands.

“Which one is yours?” 

“Jesus - what kind of doms have you been with? Remind me when it’s not so fucking hot to blow your back out,” Dean retorted, smirking as he started off toward his car. 

It wasn’t far - he’d parked it on the side of the road once the fuel got too low to risk driving around. “This one,” Dean pointed. “The one that looks like it’s older than us.” Whatever - it got him around and that’s all that he needed. 

He unlocked it and reached inside to pop the trunk, groaning from how much hotter the inside of the car was. As if that was possible. “Grab the bolt cutters from the back, I’ll get the wrench,” Dean growled, wiping fresh sweat off his forehead as he moved toward the trunk. 

There were all kinds of tools back there - large pliers, an assortment of screwdrivers, hammers, and anything else he might need to get deliveries done. Without comment, he grabbed the wrench and helpfully pointed to the cutters for the sub.

Kit: of course you went and found a twink

Kit: we're all too fucking hot to fuck. i'm sure you'll find a way

Kit: jfc you dominants are really something. this dude just whipped his shirt off for my bloody nose. fucking weirdos out right now.

Dean: i didn't find him okay. he appeared

Dean: i can't help it i was so good in my past life that i keep getting so many blessings in this one

Kit: got 5K up front and his fucking information. i'll buy you ten PS5s and a new apartment with what i charge this fucker.

Kit: did you get into midtown harbor or what?

Dean: lol your damn right you will

Dean: fuck no. i'm about to pop a fire hydrant with some cute twink tho

Sunny frowned, nose twitching at the blasé comment. He knew men like him, knew not to take them too seriously. “You don’t have that kind of money, trust me.” 

A fire hydrant? He could see the logic - get the people some relief from the heat and give the kids something to do to keep them from complaining to their irritated parents. The heat was mind numbing, even now he could barely breathe without feeling it cling to his skin. He wasn’t one to get involve in anything that could mean trouble, but trouble was already here, this seemed to at least  make it more manageable. Sunny nipped his lip, making his choice: “Do you have bolt cutters?”

“Who said I was going to pay for it?” Dean replied, amusement replacing his overwhelming need to break something. “You’ll be wanting to pay me afterward.”

Despite how miserable he was, how gross he felt, and how hard it was to breath from the oppressive heat - he couldn’t deny it was a nice thought to picture the submissive in his lap. Another time, he thought to himself. He didn’t want to die of a heat stroke with his dick out.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I also have a big ass wrench for the hydrant.” It wasn’t the first time Dean had ever popped one; he was all too obliging to do it for the neighborhood kids even when they had power. Plus, the tools he carried were useful for breaking open the cans the Syndicate distributed across the city. “They’re in the trunk of my car. I don’t think I have the strength right now to pop it alone - that’s why I need your help.”

Frankie: Ahh, yes, bug her when she's probably busy to bring an entire boat to save me and my car.

Frankie: Seems reasonable.

Frankie: Or I could just suck it up for a while and slip through when the cops are distracted somewhere else.

Dean: lol i have a feeling it's gonna be a long while

Dean: they would've cut it back on if they were gonna actually roll it

Outside of the coffee shop Sunny’s hidden, when the power went out more than some hours ago, people are starting to gather. The tension is building along with the heat and he’s not faring any better, the shirt’s sticking to his back, beads of sweat trailing down his throat and there’s no reprieve from it. Still, it’s the crowd he has his eye on, something like fear festering in his belly, and Sunny chews on his lip, twitching when someone approaches his table.

“God, I’m sorry,” He breathes out, startled. “Are you looking for a seat?”

Dean closed his eyes, sighing as he felt sweat roll down his body. He was very much over this extended power outage and wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it without snapping. The crowd was getting agitated as well. 

“Fuck it,” he said aloud to no one in particular. He began to scan the area, his eyes settling on a twitchy little sub that looked strong enough for what he needed. Dean made his way over, raising his brow at the other man’s question. Despite how miserable he felt, he smirked.

“No. But you can take a seat on my dick later if you’d like,” Dean replied, smirk widening. “First, though, I need your help. You look sturdy. Think you manage a pair of bolt cutters? I’m about to crack open that fucking fire hydrant.”

Frankie: Yeah well, he likes the action.

Frankie: Fair.

Frankie: For now I'm just staying in my car and blasting the ac every now and then.

Frankie: I haven't decided what I'll do when I get low on gas.

Dean: your in with the big boss right?

Dean: get her to bring a fuckin boat to pick u up or something

Kit: hope they haven't put road blocks up yet then. you know they will.

Dean: fuck.

Dean: now you can finally buy me a PS5

Frankie: He's in Portugal as we speak, trying to find an earlier flight back here.

Frankie: You're not out causing chaos? I'm shocked.

Dean: that's a dumb move

Dean: no it's too hot to do anything but exist