prima stripperina

Laine cast a useless arm out to help Daithi on his way, but it served little purpose in the long run. Instead he lolled unhelpfully to the side, grabbing for his boba while Daithi got comfortable next to him. He took a few long sips from the cup, sighing contentedly at the soothing cold and the texture of the pearls. He was a genius for ordering them - and everything else he’d gotten delivered.

“What kind y'got?” The dancer asked, putting his cup down and tilting his head at Daithi. “Lemme taste.” His hand moved as if he really intended on taking the other man’s drink, but at the last minute, he leaned in and stole the taste directly from Daithi’s lips, like it was the most normal thing in the world. And maybe, for Laine, it was.

Laine could only snort with laughter when Daithi practically exploded with it, seemingly out of nowhere. He was cute when he was completely baked out of his mind. Not that he wasn’t cute when he wasn’t baked. Just. Extra extra adorable when he was in fits of laughter on the floor.

“Y'need,” Laine coughed, “to eat somethin’. You’re a mess.” Like he had any room to talk! He could barely see the other man he had so much concern for suddenly. “C'mere. Like. Up here. Why are y'still on the floor anyway?” When asked what they had been talking about, he shrugged ineffectively. “No fuckin’ idea, man.”

-

Damn. Laine had nearly had him convinced about the facial tattoo, until the other man really stopped to consider it. A little disappointed, Laine moved on to his next topic of interest - the fact that this kid was Romans boyfriend.

As if.

“Oh, I know,” Laine answered in response to the specific tastes comment. “Apparently he likes dancers as much as he likes Aurelios,” he commented idly, as if he meant nothing by it. He seriously doubted this kid was dating Roman, seriously doubted that Roman was dating anyone, but just in case, he was going to plant the seed and watch it bloom in Aurelio’s head. It might take him a while, so Laine just… Waited, much like a scorned lover waited for their husband’s side piece to find out they were married.

Dancers? It didn’t click. Aurelio could only guess the other had just come out of a bad relationship and was now doubting all men. “Perhaps.” If the implication had bothered him it didn’t show. What Roman did with other men was really none of his business just as long as he was his favorite –a hope that he was still holding onto even now. “My boyfriend is absolutely insatiable. Poor baby has no choice but to find others when I don’t put out for him. Can’t be too jealous of those cheap knock off AliExpress boys when I’m still the best,” he explained with his pride still somehow intact.

“What kind of punishment? And what kind of rules?” Laine leaned in, hands on his knees while he listened intently. He knew enough about this sort of thing to know when to shut up and listen, and now was one of those times. Still, it appealed to him, the entire idea. Depending on what those rules were - and the resulting punishments - he would be making a decision. Maybe not now, or today, but as soon as possible.

“I want you,” he admitted, his hands busying themselves with the buttons on his shirt sleeves, as if he was nervous.

Speaking of...

"Y'know I'm a stripper... Right?" Laine quirked a brow at Roman questioningly. "And that I escort? So, y'know, I sleep with people. For money." He paused. "How would that work? Because it's not a no, it's just a... conditional no." He was too independent to willingly give up his means of survival, even if Roman was offering him the world. He needed to earn it, in his opinion.

-

What an eventful day this had turned out to be. All Laine had wanted was a cup of coffee and an energy boost before he had to work later on that night, and somehow he had ended up with delicious drama that was almost too good to be true. Aurelio made it far too easy for him to goad him on, and though Laine wasn’t entirely a Mean Girl type, he could’ve fooled anyone in that moment.

He couldn’t deny that Aury was pretty, like he’d said. And as much as he knew about Roman, he could see the appeal, beyond that. The kid was pliant and willing, obviously. What more could you ask for, realistically?

“You’re not wrong,” the dancer smirked again. “I know just th'artist. They’d even give ya a matchin’ one, nice and big, maybe even across your face so you see it every time y'look in the mirror.”

It was not every day an absolute stranger was interested in listening to the intimate details of his life and so he felt it wouldn’t be right to waste such a good opportunity. “A tattoo on my face?” he paused, taking his time to seriously consider the advice before continuing: “¡A que no! We are not getting matching tattoos. I’m not his property. It’s him that needs to show his devotion.” Implying that Roman getting the younger man’s name tattooed to his chest made him belong to Aurelio. It was a good thing Laine was a complete stranger otherwise this conversation would certainly come back to bite him in the ass.

As if.

You know, Laine was just thinking it’d been a long time since he’d been covered in someone else’s beverage. And why not today, a day that has been perpetually annoying since he woke up this morning, to break the cycle? It’s only fitting, of course. And he was already scowling about how long it took to get this damn chai in the first place, so might as well continue to have a reason to frown.

He almost snaps at the poor grovelling person who even searches for paper towels or something to clean them up with. As if there are just… street paper towels in jolly old England. But the apology tears him out of his grumpiness, and he sighs instead.

“No, it’s fine. I was just goin’ home anyway. I can just throw this in the wash.” It’s an abysmally tiny washing machine and dryer set, which makes him grouchy all over again, but even in his bad mood he knows that isn’t this guy’s fault.

“Are you okay though?”

His nose feels tender to the touch, but not broken, thankfully. Gingerly, Sonny moves it, testing.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just-” He bends to scoop up his books, putting them back into the bag. “Just embarrassed, mostly. Can I get you a new drink, at least? Since yours is… sort of all over our shirts?”

His shirt is some expensive looking button up, far too large for him, billowy in a tasteful sort of way, sleeves rolled and edges hanging loose.

-

It was a shame his coffee had been blended instead of hot. The thought was bitter and fleeting; it wasn’t as if he would actually throw hot coffee on someone… But still, it was a catty inner thought and Laine thought it spitefully and with jealousy.

“His favorite,” Laine repeated, rolling his eyes without a single attempt to hide it. He would have been more annoyed with that, had he not just received $500 in his bank account from Roman a day before meeting his supposed favorite. And so what if he was? He was the newest, the prettiest, if he had to be honest.

“Oh, he’s yours,” Laine smirked, slowly starting to catch on.

The only thing Aurelio had going for him was his ignorance, such was the story of his life. And so he prattled on without noticing the roll of Laine’s eyes or the smirk he’d taken when talking to him. “Yeah. He thinks I’m pretty!” he beamed, and the universe wept for the idiot it had created. “Though he gets a little frustrated when I don’t let him kiss me.” That particular bit wasn’t a complete lie, though it was difficult to take anything that came out of his mouth all too seriously.

He couldn't deny that Aury was pretty, like he'd said. And as much as he knew about Roman, he could see the appeal, beyond that. The kid was pliant and willing, obviously. What more could you ask for, realistically?