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“Are you sure you guys won’t be uncomfortable?” Sean asked, fidgeting with his cocktail glass.
“Sean, how many strip clubs did we drag you to in college?” Stammo asked, swinging his arm around John’s.
“Far too many,” Sean responded.
“Exactly. It’s our turn to pretend to be interested and enjoy the artistry of pole dancing,” Stammo said back.
“Honestly, think of it more as reparations at this point.” John shrugged. “We owe you a night of watching male strippers.”
John and Stammo have known Sean since the first week of college. He was Stammo’s randomly selected roommate. John didn’t get so lucky and was living with a contender for world’s biggest douche, so he spent a lot of time at Stammo and Sean’s. John even had a designated beanbag. Sean was very friendly and owned a Wii. The three bonded over getting drunk and playing Wii bowling.
Stammo went through a rough breakup that led to their bigger friend group going to strip clubs... A lot. Sean always seemed uninterested and more focused on the ladies’ outfits, when John and Stammo were just cheering for them to come off. The lads were too deep into their heteronormativity to put the clues together. Not until John and Stammo came back to the dorm to find Sean snogging their male TA.
Sean and Stammo stayed very close long after university, and John reconnected with them both when he moved to London. Shortly after Stammo and Nadia’s wedding, John got the “save the date,” for Sean’s. A few months later the Bachelor Party invite came.
The night had started with pre-gaming at the Best Man’s flat while taking turns playing Mario Kart. John got to meet the groomsmen and the others snubbed of the title like himself and Stammo. At the flat was Sean’s brother, his four best friends, his fiancé’s two sisters, and two of Sean’s coworkers.
After Mario Kart, the group headed to a male strip club called Bottom’s Up. The venue was filled with blue, purple, and pink lights. Around the raised center stage were pink leather couches that only VIP guests got to sit in. Sean’s best man got the whole party VIP passes.
John and Stammo sat on a couch together to the right of the middle couch for Sean, his best man, and his best friend.
While the party was settling into their seats a young man wearing a bright pink c-strap with matching nipple piercings was performing to the song “Rich Girl” by Gwen Stefani. Stammo brought over drinks for him and John.
“Cheers mate,” John said, taking a sip of the very strong colorful sugary drink.
“Gonna need five of these to get through this,” Stammo said, drinking his own beer.
The song comes to an end and three people walk out. Two people designated to clean the pole and one wearing a fancy bedazzled blazer holding the microphone.
“How are we doing, gays?” The man yelled into the microphone. The audience cheered. “I am your MC for this evening, Nova. I see we have some new folks in our pink row so I wanted to remind y’all of the rules. Some of our dancers are gonna get up and personal. If you don’t want that, give a simple X with your arms.”
Nova gave a few more explanations about when and where to give tips before going back to his announcing booth.
The next three performances were breathtaking. One featuring many spins on the pole and impressive light work to "Joyride" by Kesha. Another with two strippers that roamed the floor of the club, grinding and dancing on the very excited audience while ‘Where Them Girls At” by David Guetta and Flo Rida. And the last one was certainly Sean’s favorite, “SexyBack” by Justin Timberlake danced to by a big hairy man only wearing a small cup over his groin. John and Stammo didn’t know if they’d ever seen their friend blush that much.
Nova got back up on the mic.
“Already ladies, the next one is bittersweet. The last three nights, we were fortunate enough to be graced by this brilliant goddess. But tonight is his last night. Please give a warm welcome and a heartbreaking goodbye to K-9!”
The audience cheered excitedly as a tall man stepped out from behind the curtain. His torso and crotch were covered up with an oversized worn out zip-up hoodie. His long legs were out bare. The man’s face was hidden by a black and brown leather dog mask. On his neck was a matching leather collar and on his feet were big black army boots.
The song “LoveGame" by Lady Gaga began and K-9 started matching around the pole. He leaned his back against the pole and slid down it, sitting on his heels. The dog man unzipped the hoodie and dropped the material to the ground, revealing a leather harness across his chest. He pulled himself up the pole and did a couple of spins where his body was fully off the ground.
“I hate that I can’t turn off my medical brain,” Stammo said leaning over to John.
“What do you mean?” John asked.
“Those scars on his lower chest, the stitches look like a rush job so it made it heal weird,” Stammo explained.
Between the harness and K-9’s flat stomach were three misshapen scars, John would assume from a stab wound.
“Maybe you can slip your business card in his pantie line,” John smirked and took a sip of his drink.
Once the spins were complete, the dancer lowered himself down to the crumpled up pile that was the hoodie. The line “hold me and love me” played, K-9 rubbed his bulge against the hoodie. The audience erupted in hoots and hollers.
John feels heat rush to his cheeks at the sight. He needs to distract himself from his racing thoughts of wishing he were the poor hoodie.
“Oh but when Archie does it, we shame him,” John commented which got him an amused eye roll from Stammo.
K-9 climbed off the stage and approached Sean. Each of the dancers had all gravitated towards him since he was sitting in the middle and was wearing a cheesy “bachelorette” sash his soon to be sister-in-law got for him. A few of the performers wandered a bit, approaching the other couches. But John and Stammo had put their X’s up so they wouldn’t be touched on.
K-9 held himself at Sean’s feet in a prayer position, as if he were pleading to be used.. To be loved.
As John watched, his eyes trailed down the dancer's body. The dog mask he was wearing had eye holes that allowed his dark grey eyes to be seen. Under the mask, a little bit of black hair peaked out the back forming a curl. John tried not to think about how that curl would feel around his finger.
John’s eyes trailed down to the dancer’s thighs, where a.. tattoo laid.
A poorly done spiral tattoo covering scar tissue.
“Oh my god,” John said, his face pale.
“What?” Stammo asked, leaning close to John.
“That’s fucking Sherlock.” John said, running his hands through his hair.
“Is it?” Stammo, squinting his eyes and looking at K-9. “Oh shit yeah it definitely is. What the hell is he doing here?”
K-9 had crawled up on Sean’s lap, but he seemed to have noticed John and Stammo’s eyes on him and started to trail over to them.
The dancer stood in front of the pair.. no.. he was only paying attention to John. Waiting for the hand gesture denying him. But John’s arms didn’t form an X, they waited by his side. K-9’s hand reached out to John’s shoulder, essentially confirming permission. John simply nodded his head.
The other hand found John’s other shoulder as K-9 pulled himself closer, resting one knee on the outer side of John’s left thighs, and his other knee on the inner side.. right against his crotch. The dancer’s hand cups John’s face as the line “Let’s play a love game” rang in the back. He used his hand to pull John’s head closer.
“The hell are you doing here?” John spat out, leaning in so the rest of the bachelor party to the right couches couldn’t see him talking. Sean’s best man let out a loud whistle.
“A case,” the dancer simply said. Sherlock’s voice was muffled through the leather dog mask, but it was undeniably him. Except his voice had an out of breathy nature to it, almost a whine.
“A case? What bloody case would have you dancing at my mate’s bachelor party?” John asked through gritted teeth, trying to not get distracted from Sherlock’s subtle knee shifts toying with his zipper.
“A case where the owner has been selling footage from the dancers changing rooms.” Sherlock explained while making thrust motions. “Acting as a dancer was the only way to get me back there, so Langdale used his connections to get me here.”
The last four nights, Sherlock hadn’t been home. He told John and Mariana that he had a case that he wanted to work alone. They had asked him if it was dangerous and if it would make a good episode. Both answers were no.
“Well I would’ve liked a warning.” John said with a sigh.
Sherlock suddenly turned his body around so is sitting on John’s lap. He was so warm, Sherlock’s bare back and nearly bare butt on John’s front. John couldn’t remember the last time he was like this with anyone. Probably Carrie, but she didn’t really like being overly affectionate. John couldn’t think of a time she was sitting on his lap.
“You didn’t tell me your itinerary. Would you mind carrying me to the stage?” Sherlock asked quickly.
“Bridal style?” John asked, slightly hating how quick he went along with Sherlock’s whims. The doctor’s hands were already moving down to Sherlock’s knees, ready to be useful.
“Yes, Soldier,” Sherlock responded with that sultry whine.
John’s hand hooked underneath Sherlock’s knees and his other hand rested on his upper back. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s neck while John stood up with Sherlock in his arms. John’s brain drifted as he carried his friend. “Soldier.” Sherlock always called him Doctor, if not his name, never Soldier. It felt so commanding.
The audience erupted in applause and cheers.
“The audience is so excitable,” John comments while walking Sherlock to the stage. “When did you learn how to pole dance anyways?”
“Oh, Langdale’s old roommate had a pole in his bedroom,” Sherlock explained. “I would just spin on it all day, but eventually I started trying actual moves.”
John set Sherlock down on the stage where Sherlock kneeled again, looking John in the eyes.
“Thank you, Doctor.” Sherlock said in a whiney, placated tone. But.. no one else could hear them. Who was this voice for?
John took a step back to return back to the couch with Stammo, but Sherlock reached behind him and grabbed the hoodie he discarded. The one he was previously rubbing all over. He draped the hoodie over either side of John’s neck, but kept hold of the material. He yanked on it, pulling John closer. This left them a mere four inches apart and John’s heart beating. If Sherlock’s lips were visible, John would be staring.
“See you after the show Big Boy.” Sherlock said before blowing a kiss and pushing John away from the stage. Embarrassingly, John fell right on his ass. Before he could process the “big boy” comment, the blowing a kiss motion, or the very tight sensation in his pants, Stammo was by his side helping him up and guiding him back to the pink couch.
“You are alright mate?” Stammo asked as they sat down. “I bet the bar might have some ice for your arse.”
John’s brain couldn’t register the words Stammo said, since as he looked down at the hoodie wrapped around him he realized something.
He unfolded the sweatshirt and examined it. Black hoodie, size 3xl, fraying around the hoodie cuffs from picking. This was John’s hoodie. He pressed the fabric down against his lap as his brain replayed K-9 grinding on it in those tiny underwear. Where did Sherlock even get those from?
When John was able to focus again, everyone was clapping and cheering. He looked around and saw K-9 leaving the stage. Stammo clapped him on the back.
“Oi, earth to John. There’s one more bar Sean wants us to stop at. You good?” Stammo asked. The bachelor party was getting up from the couches and approaching Nova with their tips.
John forced a nod.
“Let me just.. bathroom.” He said, feeling dazed from the lack of blood in his brain. Stammo nodded his head and joined the rest of the group to give John space to scurry off.
John wanted nothing more than to march back to the dressing rooms, grab Sherlock by that stupid harness and pull him to the bathroom. John wanted to make Sherlock finish what he started.
However, John was a coward. So he stood alone in the toilet stall taking deep breaths.
He knew people probably wank in these bathrooms all the time, but he still found it deeply embarrassing. The majority of the bachelor party were out gay men, and none of them are this desperate. But of course, “heterosexual John” can’t handle it.
He felt like he didn’t deserve to pull his cock out, so as he pathetically reached into his pants, his mind shifted to Sherlock.
Of all the nights Sherlock could be working uncover, bloody of course it was the same night as John’s mate’s bachelor party. That’s just how things worked out for John.
As he ran a rough finger over his tip, he questioned how long Sherlock owned all the gear? Did he buy the harness, puppy mask, and collar for this case specifically or did he already have it hidden in the house somewhere? Surely he wasn’t gonna just get rid of it... right? Would Sherlock wear it again if John asked?
John’s hand pumped over his shaft faster. He used his other hand to cover his mouth as he muffled out a curse. He could feel the pressure start to build up. He bundled up a wad of toilet paper and allowed himself to let go.
He was hoping he would feel better afterward. John just wanted to release all those feelings, but he only felt grosser. He adjusted himself and left the stall. John stood over the sink and splashed water on his face.
“I take it you enjoyed the show?”
“Jesus Christ!” John shouted, turning around to see who he expected. Sherlock.
The dog mask was off. Sherlock’s hair was matted down to his head with a thin layer of sweat. He had thrown on a black t-shirt and sweatpants. He stank of cigarettes. Must’ve immediately smoked after his performance.
“How fucking long have you been in here?” John asks between deep breaths, trying to calm his heart down.
“Mm, approximately three minutes or so. If you are wanting to know if I heard you masturbate? The answer is yes,” Sherlock answered simply before continuing. “Very unsanitary. However I understand the urgency.”
John takes a deep breath.
“Sherlock, I’m already mortified. You don’t need to make it worse.” John grabbed a paper towel and dried his hands off.
“What’s the plan for the rest of the night?” Sherlock asked, his eyes locked on John’s hands.
“I..” John tried to remember as he adjusted his hair in the mirror. “I think we are going to another bar someone’s friend works at. The details are fuzzy now.”
“Do you plan on coming home tonight?” Sherlock asked next, looking up to meet John’s eyes.
“Yeah, Stammo and I were planning on crashing at the Best Man’s flat, but it seems like that was everyone’s idea.” John explained. “So I think I will just Uber or Taxi back home. Why do you ask?”
Sherlock took a step forward. John normally hates when Sherlock stood this close to him, since it reminds the Doctor how short he is. But in this moment, it felt intimate having to look up at his friend.
“I just noticed you didn’t leave a tip. Rather stingy if you ask me.” Sherlock commented with a smug grin. “I gave you a rather potent reaction and I get nothing for it?”
John’s back was against the sink as Sherlock loomed over him.
“You made me carry you to the stage,” John defended himself. “I should be getting a bloody tip.”
“You did lend me your strength, soldier. Maybe a tip is exactly what you deserve.” Sherlock said, finally taking a step back. He turned on his heels and stepped towards the door. “Don’t get too drunk tonight, John. I need you to be coherent enough to accept my tip.”
Sherlock had left the bathroom by the time the word play caught up to John.