House of Boys

"Just take it off, Darling!"

Sterling lets his head fall back on his shoulders as he laughs, throwing up a middle finger at Mike as the stripper grins at him while the men around the bar whistle. He lifts his shirt one more time to wipe at the sweat on his brow, which earns him louder encouragements, but legally he can't give them more than that.

It's a Saturday night, which means the club is in full swing. The lights are dousing the room in purple currently, following up the act on stage. Most of the dancers have already drifted away, but the few that hoped down for more private affairs are what's keeping the music going.

And it's loud. Sterling can hear his blood thumping in his ears it's so loud. He doesn't even know what time it is, probably a little after one given that the crowd is still going, but the body heat in the room is already starting to get to him.

Contrary to what he'd said before, he does unbutton his shirt, making eyes and the blonde across from him when he shoves it off his shoulders...just to reveal a tank top. He laughs at the disappointed look he gets, turns his back to fill another drink.

It's a good night, which means they're busy, and that makes sense as to why he hasn't seen Nic yet. Not that he's, like, actively waiting for the boy to show up at his bar or anything. Course not.

Finally the music faded away, the lights brightened just a bit, and Sterling could feel himself think again. He leaned across the bar to talk to Jessie for awhile -- one of his favorites, a college kid who liked to come in with a group of friends. Apparently one of his pals was getting married, wondered if they did bachelor parties.

Sterling laughed and found a card for him, tossed it his way before wiping down the bar and following the line of more money to mix drinks for. He was in the middle of fishing out beer bottles when he heard his name.

No, more like heard someone whine his name.

Nicoli was off then.

Sterling arched an eyebrow as he lifted up from the fridge space, popping beer tops off and sliding the bottles down the counter to their respective owners. His lips curl into a smile at the request, his hands already grabbing ingredients. "I dunno Nic, what's in it for me?"

Sterling blew Nicoli a kiss as he turned his back on the kid, pulling a glass off one of the shelves to fill. The Rainbow Cocktail took awhile to mix, but it was beautiful when it was done, three different colors, topped off with an umbrella and a pineapple wedge.

He turns around and goes back to his friend, leaning against the bar to hand it over. But right at the last moment he passes it above Nic's head to the guy behind him, who looks a little surprised before Sterling winks, making it obvious the drinks on the house. The guy blushes, looks like he might say something, then scurries off.

Then Sterling turns his unimpressed face on Nicoli. "Be nice to the guy giving you illegal drinks, babe. Or you'll end up sober tonight."

"Dirty little liar, no you won't," Sterling shoots back,, but he pushes himself off the bar anyway and mixes up another drink. A strawberry Margaretta this time, blended to perfection and topped off with salt and limes.

He was probably the only one who would even think about telling a fucking prostitute they wouldn't do anything, but it was true. Even Nicoli had his rules, few and far between as they were, and Sterling was sure he couldn't even break a few.

Still, when he brings the drink back he leans over the counter a little, presses a kiss against Nic's cheek then goes back to work, swiping money out of out reached hands and tossing drinks across the bar with practiced ease. Somehow, though, when things quiet down he always ends up back by Nic, watching the club around him.

Sterling only pulled himself away from Nic long enough to wrap up orders and pull over a security guard to deal with the people too drunk to drive home. Rule of thumb was that if they couldn't climb the stairs, they needed a cab, simple fact.

Eventually the club clears out after another half hour or so, and Sterling finally rips his tank top off, sighing in relief when the air cools him down. He bunches the cloth up and lays it around his neck before he wipes down the bar, but the rest of clean up is in charge of the janitorial staff, which Sterling thanks the heavens they have because he's tired.

So is Nic, he can tell. The kid probably has a long night, so Sterling fishes a beer out of fridge, pops the top off and slides over the counter before dropping an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Bed?"

"Yeah, well, at least it's not sweat," Sterling replies as he gets comfortable, then sighs dramatically when Nic plasters himself ontop of his body. Despite how much he pretends like it annoys him though, the truth is that at this point it's actually kind of hard for him to sleep without it.

He chuckles at the nip to his collarbone, runs a hand through Nicoli's hair, and sighs softly as he lets himself fall back down into the blankets. Sunday is off day, so there's no alarm set, and he's ready to sleep the day away. "Goodnight, Nic."

Sterling was sleeping so good, so good, that the rest of the world didn't even matter. He had thick shades drawn over the only window in his room, a plush bed he was buried in, a warm body next to him...this was, very likely, paradise.

He wasn't even dreaming he was sleeping so well, just enjoying the bliss of it all, until he heard his name. His brow drew together slightly, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from, but the extra weight on his body was a perfect indicator.

"Go away, Nic," he mumbles, throwing an arm over his eyes and moaning slightly at the sensation of what he knows are hips rolling into his. "I'm sleeping. It's fucking peaceful. Leave me alone."

"I have not," Sterling grumbles. "I bet it's not even noon yet. It doesn't feel like noon." He really should have known better though, because a bored Nicoli was a dangerous Nicoli, and the kid always got what he wanted, regardless of how he had to make it happen.

Still, for one foolish moment, Nic's weight is gone and Sterling let's himself sigh, fall back into the comforts of sleep. It's not until there are slow, wet kisses being pressed against his stomach that he realizes the disastrous mistake he made.

"Nic," he says it a little harshly, but he already knows he's screwed, because parts of him are very on board with this idea. "Don't be a dick."

"I hate you," Sterling complains.

And he does. God does he hate Nicoli so much. For waking him up. For getting him worked up. Because now there's an issue that very clearly isn't going to go away on it's own, and a way too smug teenager in his bed.

He throws a glare at his friend but sighs, wiggles slightly to get more comfortable, then folds one hand under his head and lets the other travel under the blanket. The breathy moan he lets out when he finally gets a hand around himself is much more for Nic than himself, but it's not like he's going to say that.

"Don't worry, I'll try to be quiet."

If there's anything Sterling knows how to do, it's jerk off. Half of his videos on the HalesBoys website were his solo's, because he was a fucking expert masturbator. He could do it without making a noise, he could do it moaning the whole damn time, he could do it for half an hour, he could do it in three damn minutes. He could let go in his fist or shoot all the way to his fucking mouth.

He was good at this.

He was good at the show.

He lets his eyes fall shut, tips his head back against his pillow, kicks his blankets down off of his thighs. The air is cold, which shocks him for a minute, but the friction is warm so it doesn't even matter.

It doesn't even take long, because all he can think about is Nic, and that mouth, and those hands, and then a sigh is spilling out of his mouth, and he's having to roll out of bed, kicking the bathroom door shut behind himself to clean up.