It's his motherfuckin' birthday, so of course they had to do the most. Gifts, dinner, bottle service-------- nothing but the best, and while his family had taken up much of his day, the night was made exactly for sinning. Miggy takes just a single moment to update his IG and let everyone know how the club's poppin' off, a few friends in the background yelling and throwing shit up, and then another moment maybe goes to cussing out some clown in his comments talking reckless, saying that he's not gonna win his next fight against Kyrone Davis. Man, fuck that. Miggy respects the competition, but there's such a thing as hyping up fights, so he's willing to talk his shit--------- up until he sees Bennet sliding past him looking absolutely fine tonight. And, just like that, Miguel's putting his phone away, head snapping up and hand eagerly wrapping around Bennet's wrist. "Where the fuck you think you're goin', pretty boy? Birthday boy's gotta get his lap dance." He's teasing, kinda sorta, even though he really wants it, the devil practically gleaming in his eyes. But then------ then Bennet swings a leg over him, easing right into Miguel's lap as if he belongs there, prompting Miggy to just, lean back with a lazy, thoroughly satisfied smirk. Firm hands shoot out to capture Bennet's hips that start in a slowly enticing roll, a damn good feeling that Miguel thinks is about to build up to something more... until the boy pulls back like he didn't do a damn thing. In return, the boxer just huffs out a laugh, "Keep teasin' me. See how that shit ends."
