NSFW DJCom Fics

Bunny

"Dammit. There goes another."

DJ looked up from his drink with a cocked brow. "What do you mean by that?" His friend sighed.

"We've been losing a lot of our dancers this past week. I just saw another leave. See?" He pointed to a frustrated woman in a skimpy outfit stomping out of the club's doors. "She was one of our best dancers, too." Disappointment tinged his voice.

DJ knew that they were starting to run low on workers. He too had seen a large number of angry ladies packing up and quitting. He usually just ignored it, it wasn't any of his business anyway. But now the waning numbers were beginning to get worrying.

"Ah, that sucks. Do you think we can hire some more soon? You know we're on our last few dancers," DJ said. His friend shrugged and brought a hand up to his face in a thinking manner. It seemed like a good idea came to him because DJ could practically see the little lightbulb go off above his head.

"I got it! You got a boyfriend right?" He smiled. The booming music in his headphones made it difficult to hear his co-worker but DJ could still make out the word "boyfriend".

"Oh god." DJ lowered the volume in his headphones just to make sure he was hearing the other man right.

"I was thinking that maybe you can get him here for a little bit!" His friend shook DJ by the shoulders. "It would probably help a lot. He's a pretty good looking guy." DJ's mouth almost dropped open.

DJ nearly dropped his drink. "Th-This isn't a gay bar!?" DJ yelped.

"C'mon!! It can't be that bad," he said. DJ squinted.

"Dude, Commander's gonna murder me. You know he doesn't like that stuff."

"Well, yeah, I know that...but please? Just consider?" He made a pleading look, accompanied by some crocodile tears.

DJ sighed and glanced away. It really can't hurt to try, DJ supposed. He took another sip of his whiskey. "Fine. I'll ask him when I get home. If he kills me, I'm blaming you." His friend's face brightened in joy.

"Atta boy!" He playfully punched DJ's shoulder. "Good luck. Thank you so much."

The whole rest of the night went by too fast. Nothing too abnormal happened except for the occasional woman drunkenly hitting on him. He just brushed them off and continued his night DJing.

His watch went off which made him realize that he had to go home. He took his jacket, waved goodbye to his friend and co-workers, and stepped outside into the warm summer air. The idea of asking Commander lingered in his mind as he started Commander's car (he wasn't allowed to ride his motorcycle late at night as per Commander's request). It didn't take long for DJ to finally pull into the driveway. He had no idea how to bring it up to Commander.

He unlocked the front door and stepped in, wiping his sneakers on the doormat. "Babe, I'm home!" He called out. DJ could smell dinner cooking in the kitchen. He closed the door behind him and made his way to where Commander was.

"Hello, dear," Commander welcomed DJ as he stirred something in a pot. "How was work?"

DJ hummed and embraced Commander from the back. "Fine. What's for dinner?" He peeked over Commander's shoulder.

"Spaghetti."

"Again? I thought we had that three days ago," DJ mumbled into Commander's nape.

"Yeah. But I had no idea what to cook, and it's already 9 PM. Also, you stink."

He remembered that he had to ask Commander about his job and if he was dunking on Commander's dinner, there was an even less chance of getting him to agree. "I-I mean... It's fine. Don't worry. And I'll shower after dinner." He wanted to stall as much as he possibly could. Admittedly, he was very nervous to ask Commander. Then, the microwave's timer went off. Dinner was ready.