Theory of Attachment [18+] [mxm]

09. Magic Mike Arc (IDK I've Never Seen The Movie)

Micah wore the combat boots the following two days in a meager attempt to break them in. He arrived at the party with a surplus of bandaged blisters, but at least he knew he looked good under the jacket and sweatpants he'd worn to cover his modesty in the streets.

Kennedy was waiting for them at the entrance in spite of the cold. They'd been instructed to arrive at ten—nearly two hours after the party began. She was swallowed whole by a massive fur coat that fell down past her knees, the rest of her covered by the gogo boots.

As she pranced over him, Micah spent too much brainpower processing how long Kennedy's eyes lingered on Erika versus the rest of them. How had I not noticed...?!

Kennedy fluffed Erika's coat before turning to the rest of them. "I think we all look great. Shall we?"

You literally just dressed Benny and I up in whatever to cover for the fact that you made Velma and Daphne-inspired matching stripper costumes for you and the girl you like. Get real, Micah wanted to say.

Instead, Benny spoke for all of them. "Let's get it!"

"That's the spirit!"

Kennedy towed Benny inside, arms linked. Micah lingered a moment back with Erika to glare at her, knowingly. Erika glared back, just as knowingly. "What," she bit out through clenched teeth.

"Nothing," he said, and stepped ahead. "Nothing at all."

"I know what you're thinking and it's not like that," she insisted. The door had shut behind Kennedy and Benny, which made her comment unheard by then.

He put his back to the door and pushed it open. "Whatever you say..."

"Why you little—"

The party was in full swing—no pun intended. Micah hadn't thought actual swings were involved in the swinger lifestyle, but there they were, hanging from a new beam installation across the entire living room. Micah convinced himself that it looked structurally sound.

"Holy mother of God," Erika breathed beside him, coat slipping from her shoulders.

They were still in the threshold under a blacklight that made Erika's orange costume glow. The walls were covered in neon decals and, the hall to the bathroom, was dressed in white, spiral stripes. Micah came back from staring at it dizzier than before. He nearly tripped stepping out of his sweatpants.

"I need a drink," he said, though the very thought of both drinking and going down that hall made in fear for the state of the swingers' bathtub again.

"Take me with you," Erika said, and trailed after him on their quest for liquor.

There was a raised, padded dance pad in what appeared to be a repurposed dining room. Two stripper poles were mounted to the floor and ceiling, and Benny was already testing his weight on it. It was the pole that spun on its own, so he twirled, ever-so-slowly, around in a circle with his feet off the ground.

"Dude, check it!" Benny cried the moment he saw Micah. He stuck a leg straight out. He looked nothing like a proper stripper.

Micah pretended to be impressed, nodded, and said, "Nice."

"Found it!" Erika declared, and dragged Micah by the arm to the next room, which was barred by the inflatable mouth of a clown. They ducked under its rubber red nose and arrived at a fully stocked bar.

Erika leant into him. "What're we thinking? Cocktail, or a shot?"

The bartender turned to them. Micah had been staring at his g-string and the little kiss tattoo on his ass. The bartender rose an eyebrow at him, and Micah gave his answer to Erika with a simple. "Shots. Several. Please."