Desire (ATEEZ Boy x Boy Oneshots Book II)

M/F | Brat | ATEEZ x Wooyoung

Requested by wufouxeuk
CW // some degrading.

A young male strutted down a runway with tall, skinny black heels as music burst through the speakers, though many would argue the music was barely audible over all the bass.

The man paused as his hand wrapped around the polished stripper pole. His shiny heel kicked around so his calf could hug the metal. He grinned flirtatiously at the spectators below him in velvet loveseats with money in their wrinkled hands. It was a weekday, meaning the old ones came in.

Wooyoung tossed his head back as he pulled his tight red corset up and over his exposing chest. No peeking. Not yet. Surely the men were turned on now.

Wooyoung swung himself with ease in a front hook movement. It was a simple movement, but that still wooed his viewers.

Wooyoung sighed as he made eye contact with multiple masked men. It was the mandate of the club: to be mysterious and preserve both the workers' and customers' identities.

His audience was never left hungry. They enjoyed this enigmatic character Wooyoung played. A beautiful, coquettish diva who danced smoothly and powerfully. There were even instances where regulars paid for lap dances and attempted to ask Wooyoung for his name or phone number. Anything to get to know him.

"Mm, well, my boyfriends call me princess," Wooyoung softly says.

"Boyfriends?"

"That's only when I'm good. When I'm a brat..." he shrugs nonchalantly. "I can be called many things when I'm a brat," the dancer giggles.

His client would fall silent from then on.

Wooyoung wrapped his legs around the pole, letting go and teasingly biting his lip at the men. He watched as one specifically placed a hand over his crotch. Poor thing. It must be a new customer.

The dancer extended an arm to help himself down, but as he set one leg down, his world shook. Wooyoung held onto the pole for stability.

Then the music crossfaded to another track—time for another dancer.

Wooyoung saw how their eyes shifted to the incoming dancer on the runway. He inhaled and started back. His coworker touched his shoulder reassuringly, and he was now backstage.

"Wooyoung! Are you alright?" a familiar voice called.

"I'm fine, Yeosang! Who changed the music?" Wooyoung gritted through his teeth. "I could've kept going."

"I did."

"Why?!"

"You stumbled and look sick! Look at you! Your face is flushed!" Yeosang wrapped his strong hands around Wooyoung's wrists to hold him. "Let's go home. You need to rest."

"I'm alright."

"You're not."

"You need to be bartending-"

"Wooyoung!"

The dancer fell quiet at his boyfriend's assertive tone. He rarely heard him like this.

"I'm sorry, baby... I just want you to get rest. You overwork yourself a lot." Yeosang pulled the younger into a hug. "I don't want to see you fall when I'm ten feet away and could've done something to prevent it."

"S-Sorry, Yeosang."

"It's okay. Why don't we go home? I'll treat you to a snack on our way."

"Thank you."