Mommy Doesn't Know Daddy's Gettin' Hot, at the Body Shop

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Tobio is the luckiest man in the world. He married right out of college to a beautiful woman, Akemi, who gifted him two wonderful, inquisitive children. She works as a philanthropist with a considerable inheritance behind her; she and Tobio never had a lick of money troubles. He smiles wide in every picture and she always tells him his smiles are as adorable as he is.

He is told, every single day, that he lives the best life possible, that he must be overjoyed, overwhelmed with pure happiness every moment. Well, if only it were that simple.

See, Tobio used to be compared to a king when he was younger. Many often attributed this to his regal, commanding demeanor or his respectful, diplomatic cadence. While these weren't wrong, persay, they never went one step further, never scratched a little deeper. And, to make it just a bit harder, Tobio learned to hide his true kingly nature from everyone–this is the way to get what you want, he remembers learning at a young age.

When Akemi, his beautiful, sweet, perfect wife goes to her work everyday, Tobio drops their children off at their schools; both of their little hands waving good bye to him with big, dopey smiles on their faces. Tobio waves back, noting perfectly well all of the admiring eyes. None of them are the eyes he wants, though, so he doesn't acknowledge beyond a simple smile to them. Let them grovel.

He drives and drives, his tie loose on his chest, his heart pounding and ready, until he's far out of Tokyo, far away from anyone that could recognize him. He parks behind the club, his favorite spot open just for him. The Body Shop is pretty innocuous, for what it is, and this is one of the reasons Tobio loves it. The other can be found inside, swinging wildly on his favorite pole.

Tobio turns off his phone, that way no one can track him, and he takes his jacket off–no sense making it more difficult for him. He takes a quick scan of the area and when it appears empty, he strolls in.

The club takes shape around him, the low purple accent lights, the smell of Victoria's Secret perfume, the sticky carpet underneath his dress shoes. He walks straight into the room he bought and waits. It shouldn't be long now–his favorite dancer knows he doesn't like to be kept waiting. His plush, richly upholstered chair sits empty as Tobio removes his pants and shirt. Typically, this is against the rules, but he pays extra for this treatment.

Besides,

"Back again so soon, Kageyama-Kun?" Shouyou growls.

He's worth every penny.

Tobio doesn't turn around, let him stare a little, right? "Yeah, I missed my favorite show," he teases, gesturing to the floor-to-ceiling pole on the miniature stage in front of the chair. "Speaking of which, what can I do today?"

"I saw the stack of cash at the front, for that? Hmm... I'll let you touch," Shouyou hums, his voice low and sultry.

Tobio's mouth dries and he holds himself back–barely–from diving into the chair. He stumbles into it, trying to recover his footing as all the blood in his body funnels into his dick. Shouyou Hinata would be the death of him one day, he knew this for certain.

Tobio sits comfortably, trying not the show the half-chub that prematurely formed in anticipation. Shouyou, clad in nothing but dark red booty shorts, riding high on his hips and showing off every centimeter of those luscious thighs, watches him with a pitying grin on his lips. His gaze dips at Tobio's little excited dick and a snicker escapes his lips.

Tobio doesn't care. Shouyou is the only person on earth who can get away with laughing at him. Besides, he'd pay anything for him at this point, even if's the barest of glances. He readjusts himself in the chair as Shouyou hops onto the stage. The orange-haired man stands against the pole and lets his head hang back, exposing his lovely neck to the accent lights. "Is this good?" He asks, his sharp incisors on full display, making Tobio feel a bit like prey.