#yall fw this plslmk that too

[chosoclub]

Was thinking ab stripper au with choso here’s this :))))))) (bro fs needs a lap dance after the most recent chapter sheesh)

The gap between the door and the frame is two millimeters, just enough to fit your retina peeking through it and onto the mesh of blue and purple. You refuse to tell the other girls you’re crouching behind the shield of the door out of fear they’d smirk and brag about how they were right all along – yeah, we figured you liked him when he’s the only one you stare at all night, they’d taunt. And because they were right and because you refused to admit it, you’re alone in the changing room when everyone has gone out to the dancefloor, huddled and waiting. He usually came around this time but his schedule was so unpredictable. The only facet was the baseless hope that tugged at your ribs that he’d walk through the dancing lights at any minute.

You watch as the other girls take on the stage, flying from the top of the ceiling and gracefully landing on the floor. The bass of the music grows louder by the minute and the lights increase in their saturation and glow. People cheer when the girls swing around the poles in bass with the music. You’re so distracted by them dancing that you miss him wandering inside. When your pupils switch back to his walking shadows, you slam the door shut. 

You didn’t even catch a glimpse of his outfit this time. Last time, he had worn black ripped jeans, loose at his legs the frays brushing against the muscles, and a gray shirt that rode up his waist when your pelvis was grinding against it. You remember catching a glimpse of his pale skin when the hem of his shirt reached his lower abs. The time before that he didn’t get a dance at all, the first and only time he was accompanied by other people. 

You face the cubbies and lean your head against your palms. Your heartbeat thumps against your ribs in beat with the music so loud you don’t hear the door creak open and barely catch the sentence,

“Hey, babes, get up and out there – he’s requesting you.”

You can barely muffle it through the meat of your palms, “who?”

“You know who,” a scoff from the dancer, you can tell in between beats of silence she’s rolling her eyes, “Your man, he specifically requested you.” 

It feels like your heart is going to crack your ribcage or crawl up your throat and beat onto the floor; You can’t remember the last time you were this nervous, not over a man. Your ears have never grown hot over a man before, your shoulders have never tensed like this. The bench that initially felt cold against the thin, mesh fabric cover-up over your hips and thighs suddenly grows hot like a grill you have to jolt up from. 

“You don’t wanna keep him waiting, yeah?” You barely hear her when you open the door to the rest of the club and only catch her playful wink. 

You try to gather all the confidence into your shoulders as you’re walking over to him – the whole shoulders back, neck high, back straight routine. He’s sitting on the couch, body facing the stage but not particularly focused on anything. One of his arms is sprawled against the back of the couch, the other on his leg. It’s dark, and you can barely see the floor you’re walking on, but when you approach him you can see clearly the outline of his hair, down sitting against his neck this time. 

He’s staring right at you when you stand in front of him, face stern except for the small smirk that wedges a small wrinkle against his cheeks. You’ve given countless lap dances, but this one is already leaving you wordless. You quietly sigh to calm your nerves instead, listening to the beat of the song playing to match your moves to. 

Standing before him, stage lights gleaming against your back creating the perfect silhouette that you feel like you can sink back against, you begin like you always do. You bend at your hips, dragging your hands over your body as you come back up, rolling your body when you do; In the second the lights go dark, you’re on your knees, extending them further apart and bringing them together then one hand in front of the other and catching his eyes in the process, you’re between his knees. 

You rise from his legs and lower your hips on top of his, feeling his jet-black eyes on you the entire time, arm sliding from the back of the couch and onto your waist. A move that would make you uneasy, from him, feels almost like encouragement. The halo around your figure gleams. You swing your hips to the melody, each time grinding closer and closer to his pelvis. When you buck your hips down completely, grinding them against the hem of his jeans, his smirk dissipates, only leaving you to lean closer to brush your lips against his ears as you arch your back. 

Choso tips his head back, lips apart, inhaling your breath and smelling the perfume that emits from your neck. He’s still watching you, or your silhouette, you can see his half-lidded eyes, retinas tipped down to catch any glimpse of your face. 

You grind to the beat of the music against his waist, leaning close to his nose only to completely turn your hips to face the stage and lean forward, hands running up his thighs. A break from looking at his face and raven hair has you releasing a breathless sigh when you come back up and tilt your neck back, hips against the base of his groin. You draw your hips forward and back, hands at your scalp for extra sultry until you finally lean your back against his chest, almost grinding all of your body against him.  

Choso lets out a soft groan against the back of your head, which only has you lifting your pelvis to abrase against his once more. He gives up on keeping his hands to himself, placing them at your waist and guiding you against him – It’s something you’d never let anyone do, but it was true that you liked him more than just a familiar face around the club and the smile that takes your face only further proves so. He moves his hands to your thighs, lifting your weight in parallel with his until you’re both moving to the beat and his head has moved to the base of your neck. 

You turn back to face him, making sure that your hair brushes against his collarbone as you do. He sighs when you bring your arms on his shoulders and roll your hips in a circle. By the climax of the song, you both have your heads tilted back as your hips roll in confluence. You tip your chin forward, rolling over his abs and leaning close to his nose. He closes the distance to swallow your breaths in a kiss. His lips are warm and soft, immediately suckling at your bottom lip and softly prodding his tongue in between the valley. You match his pace, keeping your hips pressed against him in consistent movement. One of his hands leaves a space on your hip to trace your jaw as his kiss deepens – It feels like your lips are slowly morphing to become one how deep he runs his tongue through the inside of your mouth.

You pull away, your mouths separating in a wet and messy squelch. His eyelids are still dipped down, lashes touching his waterline, and a smirk sits on his lips. You mirror the grin, leaning against his ear,

“Same time next week?”