The inside of the club was cast in a red glow, black leather couches reflecting the light as if they were covered in blood. Sami thought that if he were allowed to, he’d cover them for real (with the blood of the man that touched his flower boy). The stage was front and centre, sliver pole gleaming brightly under a spotlight. Sami’s flower boy was twisting around it smoothly, hips rolling and head thrown back. Concealer covered the boy’s flower necklace, but the crucifix was still there. It sat in the hollow of the boy’s collarbone shining as bright as the pole. Clad solely in black lingerie (fishnet’s included) and bold red lipstick, the psycho found him pretty. Almost as pretty as he would be covered in blood.
From the stage, Kai saw his pretty little psycho sitting at the bar, a glass of brandy swirling in his right hand. The dancer found him pretty- the red lighting of the club was reflecting off his pale skin, his raven hair gleaming. He was staring directly at the dancer, head cocked like a crow inspecting a shining piece of silver, and the boy on stage felt his breathing pick up slightly. But he continued to move, rolling hips hips just right for the crowd. As the last two notes of his song ended, the boy detached himself from the pole and collected his tips, sashaying down the runway and backstage as the next act started. He changed quickly, keeping the makeup on. It made him feel pretty.
The cotton candy dancer made his way over to the boy at the bar smoothly. Before he could properly say hello, lips were on lips and hands were on his waist and he smell of cigarettes and juicy fruit was everywhere. Their tongues danced together and Kai thought that it was downright possessive, as if the psycho was claiming him just to let other people see. And god, he loved it.
When their lips broke apart their foreheads stayed touching. “You were so damn pretty up there dolly, but you’re mine, understand?” the psycho whispered. “Mine.”
“Yours.” It was a pledge, a prayer almost. Whispered with revenance and complete belief. Kai moved upwards on his tiptoes, slotting his lips against the elder’s ear. “He’s against the back wall, by the door. He’s wearing a suit with a purple tie- he has a glass of whiskey,” he whispers. “I’ll get him to follow me out the back into the alley.”
“Lead the way darlin'.”
YOU ARE READING
SUGAR AND STEEL
Teen FictionIn which a boy as sweet and sickly as cough syrup and cotton candy meets a boy that tastes like Juicy Fruit and cigarettes (and is best friends with a butterfly knife)
