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The Manor

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The Manor is a pretentious male strip club that caters to an upper class clientele. Women and men toss around fifties like they’re dollar bills. There’s a blackmail ring operating out of the club, but there hasn’t been enough information to pinpoint the ringleader. That’s why Stiles has been working undercover as a new dancer for the last month, while his team traces the money and tries to get the witnesses to actually talk. Five nights a week, he’s on stage shaking his ass and doing his best to make connections with the other dancers so that he can eventually get pulled into their racket. He has a few suspects so far, but dancers are a competitive and distrustful lot, so it’s been a month already, and he’s only now starting to feel like he’s making some headway with them.

The only positive to the entire case is that Stiles is good at the stripping thing. He performed at a couple of different clubs during college to help pay the bills, and he’s familiar with the lingo and the way everything runs, so his cover is solid. While the places he performed before were definitely geared towards a much lower class of citizens (he was lucky to get a $5 stuck in his G-string back then), the rest of it is about the same. Well, The Manor is a lot more cut throat than the other clubs he’s worked because there definitely isn’t a friendly comradery with the dancers here, but there are a couple of exceptions.

This isn’t Magic Mike, that’s for sure, and there are multiple people already out for his blood because he’s good at this. Despite being somewhat clumsy in his everyday life, when he gets on stage, he’s a different person. He’s got moves that get him big tips, he knows how to move his hips in the best ways to get the audience’s attention, and he’s pretty good with the choreography needed to display his athleticism in the best way possible. At his primary club in the past, he’d been known for being inventive and having a creative streak, and there had been more than a few times that he’d helped other dancers with their routines.

Besides that, he might have already celebrated his twenty-seventh birthday, but he still looks young and has that innocent boy next door with a wicked streak thing that a lot of the clients really love. He’s also in better shape now than he was in college, the rigors of the academy giving him a workout routine that he’s kept up even after joining the Bureau, and the muscles he’s developed are nicely defined even if he’s not extremely well-built. Of course, he’s not stupid. He knows what really matters to the audience is the fact that he’s got a big dick, something he can’t really hide when wearing a G-string, and he’s shameless enough to use that to his full advantage.

The assignment has already resulted in a lot of ribbing from his colleagues, complete with tassels left on his desk by Greg, and a bottle of edible glitter left for him by Daphne, which he actually incorporated into one of his routines. It’s all in good fun, though, because he teases the hell out of them when they’re forced undercover into some of the less glamorous roles required to get the job done. This one is a little bit out of their usual range, though, so it’s got everyone a little bit silly. The whole male stripper angle has resulted in several volunteers for the case, in fact, but Rafe has rejected most of them.

Really, Rafe’s to blame for Stiles getting assigned to this stripper role in the first place because Scott had told his dad about Stiles’ part time college job, so it had been a logical choice when their unit got assigned the case. If it hadn’t been for the fact that several of the blackmail victims have lived out of state, and, most importantly, one happens to be involved in politics in DC, then the FBI wouldn’t have even got involved. As it is, his unit was called in so that the matter could be handled with the utmost discretion, because they have garnered a reputation for themselves throughout the bureau over the last five years. Obviously, the upper echelon has no idea that three members of the team are supernatural, but Stiles knows that definitely helps their success rate.

The Manor already has a good crowd when he arrives on Friday night. Weekends are their busiest days, of course, but Tuesday nights are also an extremely good tip night for some reason. Since Stiles is undercover, he gets to keep his tips, even if he’s got to report them, and it’s become a running bet around the department on how much he’s going to report every night. Right now, his colleagues are realizing he’s good at this, so they’re raising their expectations accordingly. Rafe actually told him that he’ll get an extra day of R&R when the case is closed if he pulls in at least two grand tonight, which makes Stiles suspect that’s his wager for the day, so Stiles actually has a goal. He’s managed that the last two Fridays, though, so he’s not feeling too much pressure.

The only thing that has him a little tense today is the text Rafe sent him earlier telling him a new transfer to their team is going under tonight as the rich businessman they’re setting up as the new target for the blackmail gang. The ‘in’ for Stiles to seduce into the scheme and all. Since Stiles has no idea who this guy is, doesn’t even have a name, he’s anxious. It takes time for him to trust people, and his work team is almost as trust worthy as his pack back in Beacon Hills. In fact, Scott refers to them as his San Francisco pack, and they’ve all earned his approval to watch Stiles’ back while he’s working. This transfer is a stranger, and that has him slightly on edge.

Stiles nods a greeting to Bryce, who is working the bar tonight. “How’s the crowd?”

“Raucous,” Bryce says. “Bachelorette party at upper stage left, and another one upper stage right. The ones on the right are handsy, but they tip well. There’s also a bachelor party mid-stage left that pays very well.”

“Got it.” Stiles slides a twenty across the bar. “Thank you kindly, sir.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Josh,” Bryce says, taking the twenty and putting it in his pocket.

It’s still a little jarring to be called Josh, but Stiles is getting used to it. Usually, his undercover adventures are brief and don’t even warrant maintaining a cover this long. This time, it’s something he has to get his mind into: becoming Josh Morgan, new hotshot dancer at The Manor. When he gets backstage, he goes to his dressing room to change. There are two performances on Friday nights, and he’ll close out the evening doing private dances that cost $100 for five minutes. It’s ridiculous how much someone is willing to pay for a brief lap dance, but he supposes it’s a rich person thing.

For tonight, he decides to start with an old favorite. He changes into the tear-away clothes needed for the number and heads to the stage when Sam tells him it’s almost time. The beginning of ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’ starts as soon as he hits the stage, and he loses himself to the music. His prop for this number is the edible glitter, and he shakes it at the bachelorette part as he gyrates and moves, earning a lot of cash thrown onto the stage. He gets the glitter all over himself, too, and rolls his hips towards the bachelor party, beckoning the future groom forward to lick the glitter off his belly, which earns him two hundred dollar bills stuck into the strap of his G-string. Bryce had been right about that table banking.

By the time he gets off stage, he’s got wads of money and glitter all over everything. It would have been smarter to do that number last, but it’s a good one to get the audience into him, and he can skirt the lines of audience participation with the edible glitter. He’s trying to show this gang, whoever they are, that he’s broke and willing to do anything for money so they’ll bring him into their scheme thinking he’ll be easily controlled. Nick is lingering backstage waiting for his turn, and his eyes move over Stiles in a rather obvious way.

“I’d hate to be Drew having to follow you every night, Josh,” Nick says, reaching over to wipe his fingers across his chest before sucking the glittered coated tips into his mouth. “You’re delicious.”

“It’s a good crowd tonight,” Stiles says. “I’m glad. I need the money. My transmission is going out, and my roommate moved without notice, leaving me stuck playing catch up.”

Nick leans in, a sly smile crossing his lips. “You know, you could always earn a lot more if you’d give personal attention to some of the clients. Not here, of course. Lance has his rules. But you can arrange to meet them elsewhere, and they’ll pay top dollar if you’re willing to do what they want.”

“I don’t know, man,” Stiles tells him, feeling pretty skeeved out right now. Nick’s just a kid, barely twenty-one, and he’s whoring himself out for cash. That type of shit happened at the other places he worked, it happens everywhere, but it always frustrates him that people get caught in that trap because there isn’t any protection for them. Sex work is totally legit and fills a need, but he thinks there should be some laws in place to help keep people in the trade safe. “I might just try to pick up an extra shift. I’m not sure I could perform on cue, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, if you change your mind.” Nick grins as he heads to the stage.

The thing is, this blackmail ring is about fucking wealthy clients and using recordings of the sex for payments. This could be his in for the whole thing. Except he doesn’t think Nick is involved. The kid’s gullible and a little foolish, but he genuinely seems to like their client base, and he enjoys sex. Stiles has heard all about the kid’s exploits, so he honestly thinks he’s just earning cash on the side doing something he loves. He really hopes he’s not wrong because Nick and Bryce are the only two people at the club he likes.

There’s time for a quick shower, so Stiles hops in, trying to get most of the glitter off his sweaty body. When he steps out of the shower, Luka’s sitting in a chair by the door, which had been firmly closed when Stiles stepped in. Luka is one that makes several suspicious bells go off every time he’s around, but he hasn’t managed to get anything on him yet. Stiles grabs his towel and starts drying off, unashamed of his nudity. If anything, he kind of gets off being watched, hence the reason stripping was a great college career choice.

“You should have gone into porn,” Luka drawls, dark eyes following the movement of Stiles’ hands. “Cock like that is wasted on stage.”

“I prefer to do my fucking privately,” Stiles says, changing his entire attitude with Luka versus Nick. “Less rules when I get paid directly, you know?”

Luka licks his lips as he stares at Stiles’ dick. “It can earn you more than tips, Josh.”

“Keep talking,” he tells him, deliberately not putting on his underwear because Luka’s distracted enough to possibly say something incriminating. “I’m all ears.”

“We could use a guy like you. Hungry, big cock, knows how to use it. Plenty of men desperate to take it up the ass, willing to do anything so their wives never find out.” Luka stands up and steps closer. He reaches out to touch, but Stiles slaps his wrist and steps back.

“Nuh uh. You play, you pay,” he says, smirking as he takes his towel and wraps it around his waist. “And I don’t think you can afford me, baby.”

“We’ll see about that.” Luka leans in, trying to intimidate Stiles but totally failing. “If you don’t impress me during try outs, you don’t get invited to our private meeting.”

“I can try out with someone willing to pay,” he points out, thinking fast because no. Just no. There isn’t any way possible that he’s fucking Luka, even for the case. “I don’t fuck for free unless you’re my type, and you aren’t.”

“Lance wants you to join us for some reason,” Luka mutters before he shrugs. “Fine, choose someone tonight. Take them to a private room, I’ll keep number 12 open for you. Audition for me. If you get them off and I like your technique, you’re in. But mark my words, Josh. I’ll get a piece of that tight ass sooner or later.”

“Number 12. I got it.” Stiles hopes like hell that this new transfer to the team will be willing to go all the way to orgasms for the mission. If it’s some straight dude bro who’s homophobic, he’s going to have to figure out a different option, and he’d rather not do that. He needs this in to move forward, and the knowledge that the owner of the club is involved is important information. Rafe had considered the possibility, but Lance Murphy is squeaky clean. Probably because he has Luka do all the dirty work.

Stiles is closing out the show tonight. He always enjoys getting the last spot in rotation. Tonight, he chooses an old routine he used to do during college, and he goes out on stage as “Closer” begins playing. It’s obviously a good choice because the crowd goes nuts, and he brings a man and a woman on stage at different times to gyrate and play it up, thrusting his hips and shaking his ass as if he needs every dollar they’ll spare to survive. When the song ends, he’s breathing hard, and he’s already thinking ahead to how he’s supposed to find his new team mate.

After a quick stop in his dressing room to clean up and pull on a tiny pair of shorts that don’t cover much more than the G-string, he heads out to the floor to set up some private dances. He’s making the rounds when Bryce motions him over. Stiles leans against the bar to hear him. “What’s up?”

“Someone asked about you. Wants a private lap dance.” Bryce waggles his eyebrows, his English accent heavier as the night progresses. “He’s paid for thirty minutes.”

“Seriously?” Stiles blinks before he nods. “Alright. Where is he?”

“You’re one lucky bastard, Josh. It’s that gorgeous hunk in the Versace suit near the pillar.” Bryce ruffles Stiles’ hair. “Go get him, tiger.”

Stiles winks at him before prowling over to the guy. When he turns around, Stiles’ eyes widen slightly. What the fuck is Danny Mahealani doing at The Manor? Danny flashes his dimples and acts like he totally doesn’t recognize Stiles, which, hell, maybe he doesn’t? “Hello Josh,” Danny says, taking his hand and stroking the back of it. “I’m William, and I want to buy some of your time.”

“William?” Stiles blinks at him as he puts two and two together. Smiling seductively, he leans in. “Nice to meet you.”

“Do you have somewhere private we can go? I’d prefer that no one see me receive the dance,” Danny tells him, still stroking his hand.

“There are private rooms. Someone has room 12 reserved for me, actually.” Stiles realizes as he says it that he’s going to have to convince Danny to let him cross some very significant lines tonight in order to move forward with the case. He brushes his lips against Danny’s ear. “Why are you here?”

“Rafe sends his regards,” Danny murmurs, laughing softly and playing the part of besotted client well. “Is there something significant about this room reservation?”

“I was approached tonight by Luka. Tell Rafe to follow the trail. Luka leads to Lance, the owner,” Stiles whispers, biting on the lobe of Danny’s ear. He hears the sharp intake of breath as Danny tightens the grip on his bicep. “I have to audition with a client tonight to get invited to their little club, or else I have to have sex with Luka to get in. How far you willing to go to close the case, William?”

“Fuck,” Danny hisses, pulling back to look at him. “All the way, Josh.”

Stiles smiles wickedly, playing his part, too, in case Luka is watching. Hell, he knows someone’s watching. It’s going to be awkward to do this with a member of his team, but he’s grateful that it’s Danny. Sure, he hasn’t seen him since high school, but he’s gorgeous, and he’s not the type to be awkward if they have to get intimate tonight. He leans in to whisper against his ear as they walk. “Did you request a transfer?”

“Months ago when I realized I wanted to come back to the west coast, but there weren’t any openings. Agent McCall contacted me last week about this case, told me you were going deep and needed someone to count on, said he knew we’d been social back at school so maybe I’d be interested.” Danny licks at the shell of Stiles’ ear. “I told him I was very interested. I’ve been in DC since graduation.”

“Yeah? You graduated a year early, I know, because none of us knew where you disappeared to until Lydia found out, but I didn’t know you’d joined the Bureau.” Stiles strokes his hand over the fancy suit, wondering how much on Earth the budget is for this undercover assignment. Danny gets Versace and Stiles gets an old rundown Ford. It isn’t really that fair.

“They recruited me when I got caught hacking. I just had to graduate, and, well, with everything happening back at Beacon Hills, it seemed smart to get out early.” Danny strokes Stiles’ back before squeezing his ass. “God, you got hot. I mean, you were always attractive in a cute sort of way, but now you’re smoking.”

“We’ll have to get dinner some time then, when this case is closed,” Stiles suggests, 15 year old Stiles flailing around in his head because Danny Mahealani thinks he’s hot and can’t stop touching him. While it could be playing up the attraction for their audience of bad guys, Stiles thinks maybe it’s not just that.

Danny dimples at him before leaning against his ear. “Did you seriously just ask me on a date in the middle of an undercover operation?”

“Yep.” Stiles smirks as he tugs Danny into room 12 and shuts the door behind them. Raising his voice, he starts rolling his hips. “You’ve got me for thirty minutes, William. What do you want from me?”

“A lap dance.” Danny licks his lips as he unbuttons his suit coat and sits down in the chair provided. “I want that tight ass on my lap, Josh. Does $600 buy me anything else?”

“It buys you my ass on your lap making sure you leave this room satisfied, but another grand would buy you my mouth,” Stiles says, leaning in to lick Danny’s neck. “Three more grand would buy you my dick in your ass. And five grand would buy my ass riding your dick.”

Danny’s eyes darken as he looks Stiles over. “If I buy your mouth, how do I know you won’t go to my fiancé and tell her about it?”

“Dude, I don’t know you. You can come back as often as you want and buy me whenever you want. Why would I risk messing that arrangement up?” Stiles arches a brow, leaning in to lick Danny’s neck. “It’s your choice, William. How much money do you have?”

“Sixteen hundred is enough for tonight,” Danny decides, gripping Stiles’ hair and pulling his head back. “Next time, I want that cock inside me, though.”

“You pay, and you’ve got it. We’ll keep it our little secret,” he promises as he clicks the remote to start the music. He gives Danny the best damn lap dance he’s ever given, rolling his hips and straddling him, getting him hard as he moves. He unbuttons that crisp white shirt, too, and pulls it open, licking Danny’s chest as he dances. Danny’s face is flushed, his pupils dilated, and Stiles breathes against his ear. “Remember, scream out Josh when I make you come so hard you’ll be obsessed with me.”

“Conceited ass,” Danny murmurs, gripping Stiles head and kissing him suddenly. Stiles tenses for a moment because he isn’t expecting kisses, not something so intimate when they’re basically having sex for an audience of creepy blackmailers for the case. Then there’s tongue, licking at his lips, sweeping into his mouth. Stiles whines softly before he kisses him back, sucking on his tongue, pulling Danny’s thick hair as he deepens the kiss.

As they kiss, Stiles keeps moving his hips, grinding down against Danny’s dick, giving him the lap dance he paid for and then some. When Danny’s hands grip his hips and hold him still, Stiles moans into the kiss because Danny starts thrusting up against his ass, rubbing against him, seemingly forgetting about the blow job as they kiss. Stiles drags his fingers down Danny’s chest, tracing his pecs and abdominal muscles with his fingers, rubbing his nipples as he rocks back and forth against Danny’s bulge.

“Oh,” Danny suddenly exhales, bucking up sharply as his face twists with pleasure. Fuck, he’s gorgeous, still so beautiful, maybe more so after a decade without seeing him. Stiles licks into his mouth as Danny comes in his expensive suit, wishing he could get off, too, but he can’t forget this is about the case. It’s not about his pleasure. Not yet. He’s not sure Luka will be impressed with this audition, but he managed to get a high roller off with just the lap dance, so that has to earn him some points. Stiles isn’t doing this with some stranger, though, so they’d better buy Danny as the closeted businessman with an obsession for Stiles for this to lead anywhere.

“You still want my mouth?” he asks, slowly stopping his gyrations as Danny catches his breath.

“Next time.” Danny blinks at him before a look of panic crosses his face. “Oh God. My fiancé can never find out. I shouldn’t…but I want more.”

“I’m here tomorrow night,” Stiles says, reaching between them to squeeze Danny’s crotch. He came so much the front of his fancy suit is getting damp, which makes Stiles smile. “Maybe jerk off first, so you’ll last longer.”

Danny narrows his eyes at him, obviously hearing the challenge and accepting it. “Tomorrow, I will have your mouth on my cock, Josh.” Danny rubs Stiles’ bottom lip with his thumb. “Are you going to get in trouble for this? I know there are rules.”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” Stiles shrugs. “I can keep a secret, especially if you pay well enough.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Later than tonight. I have to drop Darcy, I mean my fiancé, off at her apartment first.” Danny looks nervous like he made a mistake saying his fiancé’s name as Stiles slides off his lap. Darcy is one of Daphne’s go to undercover names, so that lets Stiles know who’s playing the fiancé. That’s good. Daphne’s a werewolf, so she can hold her own if this escalates to violence at any point. Of course, he and Danny are both humans, which means Stiles is going to avoid the violence thing if at all possible. “Do I just reserve you?”

“I’ll keep myself open for you,” Stiles assures him, leering just a little at the innuendo. “Bring your cash, and I’ll make sure we have a private room.” He buttons up Danny’s shirt and fixes his tie. “Think about fucking my mouth when you’re out with your fiancé tomorrow.”

“I’m sure I will.” Danny takes his arm and leads him out of the bugged room. When they’re safe in the hallway, he whispers into Stiles’ ear, “Yes. I’ll go out with you.”

“Really?” Stiles grins at him, ducking his head and looking at the floor. “The fifteen year old inside is currently having fits at the knowledge the Danny Mahealani is going on a date with me, just so you know.”

“Yeah, well, fifteen year old me is reeling about the fact that I just came in my underwear because the Stiles Stilinski gave me an amazing lap dance,” Danny murmurs, giving him a sheepish smile. “I didn’t even come in my underwear when I was a teenager.”

“I’m just that good,” Stiles drawls, smirking up at him. “Tell Papa Bear the info I gave you, alright? I don’t trust Luka, and I’m not prepared to fuck him or some stranger for this case, so we need to move fast before it spirals out of our control. Hell, I’d rather not have our first time due to a case, if I’m being completely honest, so, yeah. Tell him to find something so I can get pulled sooner rather than later, alright?”

Danny slides something into the waist band of Stiles’ tiny shorts. “You’ve got my number now. Use it if anything happens, alright? I don’t like the fact that this Luka guy is getting off watching you fuck a client, and that worries me, more than the blackmail thing.”

“He’s kind of creepy,” Stiles admits. He whispers in Danny’s ear. “He was in my dressing room when I got out of the shower earlier, and he’s gagging for my dick. If I get worried, I’ll let you know. I can handle him, though. He’s sexual assault creepy, not murderer creepy.”

“If you get yourself hurt before we can go on that date, I’m not going to be happy,” Danny tells him, licking his neck lightly. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Take care of yourself, got it?”

“Got it.” Stiles tugs him further into the shadows of the hallway and kisses him. “I tend to stop by this twenty-four diner over on Magnolia called Rosie’s for breakfast when I get off work,” he whispers. “If you happen to get hungry and feel like sharing some waffles, well, look me up. I’d like to hear about the last ten years of your life.”

“Rosie’s, huh?” Danny dimples at him before kissing him thoroughly. “I might see you there.” He winks before he straightens his suit coat and leaves.

Stiles watches him walk away, admiring the way his suit pants fit that fine ass. He walks over to the bar, noticing Bryce giving him a look. “What?”

“Be careful, Josh.” Bryce wipes the bar in front of him. “You’re good people, and there are some not so good people out there. You giving heart eyes to some closeted rich guy isn’t smart, and you’re too clever to go down that path, no matter how much he’s willing to pay.”

“Aw, I knew I was your favorite already,” Stiles says, reaching over to squeeze Bryce’s shoulder. “I’ll be careful, but only if you take your own advice. There are a lot of places out there looking for a dashingly handsome bartender with that sexy accent, you know? Might be worth exploring some other options some time.”

Bryce arches a brow and looks around before focusing back on Stiles. “You’re right, mate. Maybe it’s time to move on. You should take your own advice, too. They money’s good here, but these people will use you up.”

“I won’t let them, Bryce.” Stiles winks as he starts looking for a new client. One who won’t be going to room 12 with him or receiving the special treatment Danny had received. When he sees a woman with vibrant red hair making grabby hands at him, he slowly smirks and makes his way over to her. Another hour of this, then he can head out and meet Danny for breakfast. Having that reward awaiting him helps him focus on the case as he starts dancing for her, letting her lick some of the linger edible glitter off his torso, which is something he never expected to have to do working for the FBI.