Chapter Text
Blitzø slid down the pole slowly, the blue lights of the club casting him in shades of purple. The thump of the bass was heavy, the music loud as hell. The stage was already littered in bills, and Blitzø was determined to see if he could beat his earnings from last night.
There was a rowdy party in the back that he'd been avoiding because they looked like assholes, and a bachelorette party near the front of the stage. Both were terrible choices, but at least the bachelorette party was so drunk that they would be sloppy and easy enough to deal with if they asked for a private dance.
Deciding to focus on them, he wrapped his tail around the pole and used it to pull himself back up into spin, this time flipping himself upside down and tossing a wink and a wicked tongue flick at the group. They went wild, and he was gratified to see the scattering of bills on the stage.
Just across the stage was a digital clock, out of the way of customers, but perfect for the dancers. He had 60 seconds before his song ended and he had to hit the floor again. Better make it count.
Curling up smoothly from his dip, he landed softly back on his feet. Keeping his eyes on the party, he hooked his leg behind him and did a smooth spin, one arm holding him upright. He took his free hand and caressed down his chest as he spun down the pole, ending with a slow sensual rub down the front of his skimpy panties.
As the final chorus of the song hit the high point, he dropped down from the pole and easily dropped to his knees, stalking like an oversized cat towards the drunk bachelorette. His tail lashed behind him, and he made sure to arch his back. He could feel the panties moving as he crawled, and he knew the patrons behind him were getting a view.
Arriving on the edge of the stage, he slid down, opening his legs. The bride to be was an Envy demon, her watery eyes large and glowing. He wasn’t sure if she wanted to fuck or eat him, but as long as she tipped he was down for either.
Lashing out his tail, he wrapped it around his wrist and tugged her into the V of his legs, grinning as she reached a hand out to rest on his pecs. Ladies loved his tits. It was a phenomenon he'd accepted shortly after he started making enough money to live off this stripping thing.
As his song entered the final seconds, he winked at the bride again as he ground his hips up, using her as a counter weight for him to finish on his back, arched up.
The bride stuffed a hundred dollar bill down his panties. He fucking rocked at his job.
Hopping off the stage as the lights dimmed he slipped a copy of the price sheet to the bachelorette party. They kept a stack on the edge of the stage for exactly this. The party huddled around it, excitedly discussing what they wanted, and he went to have a smoke. Checking the clock on the wall, he grabbed his robe from the back of his chair, wrapping himself snuggly in it as he slipped outside.
When he got back on the floor, he was immediately snatched up for a dance by one of his regulars. He knew this interaction like the back of his hand, and he let his mind wander as he ground his hips against his client, tail lashed around the back of the chair to provide support and the suggestion of bondage. He was doing pretty good on tips tonight, but it'd be better if he could get some private room dances. He'd have to turn up the charm and see what he could hustle up.
Finishing his dance, he blew a kiss at his client and let him tuck a crisp bill down the front of his panties. He didn't even smack him when his hand lingered a beat too long on his clothed cock. Fucking pervert.
At the bar, the scantily clad Fizz-bot slid a double bourbon across to him, giving a rusty laugh. The fact that he had ended up as a stripper and his childhood best friend's likeness was the top selling sex robot in Hell was… kinda weird, if he thought about it too long. The Fizz-Bot nodded across the room at the patron who had bought the drink for him, a sinner who was so pale he was almost transparent with deep circles under his eyes. Creepy, but not the worst.
Also, he didn't even like bourbon. He picked up the drink and turned away from the bar, raising the glass to his lips while making his best “I can come over if it looks like you're gonna pony up some more cash” eyes at the sinner.
The sinner pulled out his wallet and made a show of counting from a thick stack of bills, before he sat back and opened his legs, a silent invitation which Blitzø accepted.
After the creepy client, who definitely played with his nipples a little too much to be cool, Blitzø took a moment to relax behind the curtain, grabbing a bottle of water from the staff cooler.
“Hey, bride to be wants private dances and some body shots from you” came the voice of Trish, the manager on shift, as Blitzø drank his bottle of water in deep gulps to wash the taste of bourbon away. He fucking hated that shit, but no one ever asked the dancers if they wanted a fruity cocktail or what the fuck ever. And pale and creepy had insisted on buying him a second drink during his dance, too. It was always shots, probably hoping that enough of them would result in some unpaid extras at the end of the night. As if.
“Kay” he said, adjusting the lace panel on his panties. “What room? Any extras?”
“Nah, but they seemed interested in you doing some stage work. Standard stuff, I think. They've been drinking Bee Bowls all night, so get them to order a few more and we'll get you on 10% bar tip out tonight to make up for it”
“Fuck, yeah, okay. Send them up to the green parlour or whatever the hell it's being called this week,” he said, crushing the empty water bottle and tossing it into the trash.
“We changed the name one time. You can fucking let it rest.”
“I’ll let it rest when you let me rest,” he said, knowing that that would never happen. “Send ‘em up. They better not play my fucking song when I'm not on stage though, I swear to Satan.”
A few hours later, he was pocketing the extra 10% tip from the bar staff. He had glitter in places he could only feel, and aches in places that only pole dancing had ever made ache. He'd managed to keep the watery bride-to-be from taking her chunk of flesh from him, literally or figuratively, but just barely.
As he left the club, he could see the purple sky starting to lighten to a pale lavender as what passed for a sun in Hell struggled into the sky.
He was exhausted, but for a moment he considered hitting up his friends Moxxie and Millie for breakfast. He’d been with people all night, but he always felt kind of scrubbed out when he got off shift. Sometimes Imp City felt like it would swallow him up, and he wasn't sure if it would spit him back out again. He tapped his fingers on his phone for a moment, before deciding to skip the call, if only because the last time he'd called this early in the morning even Millie hadn't been happy for the wakeup call. Instead, he grabbed a giant ice coffee and bagels from his favourite 24 hour deli. He stuffed two of them into his mouth and collapsed into his bed as soon as he got home.
He wasn't lonely. He was… fine. Everything was fine. He had a job where he got laid as much as he wanted and a handful of friends who he stalked but who liked him regardless. He was doing great. Making money. Everything was fine.
He laid his head back on his pillow and stared up at the slightly water stained ceiling of his bedroom. Maybe if he got a bigger place he could adopt a kid. That might be nice. Not right now though. He was way too fucking young.
Whatever. It was fine. He was doing great.
With a sigh he forced himself to close his eyes, and slipped into a dreamless sleep.
Stolas' ideal bachelor party would have been a nice dinner out, maybe a poetry reading with friends, not that he had many of those. He would have loved to end the night by going to a club and dancing. He'd never been dancing before. It looked like fun in his TV shows. And that would have been his bachelor party.
No, scratch that. Stolas' ideal bachelor party didn't exist, because he didn't want to get married.
Alas, he didn't have much of a choice. No choice. No hope. He was to be married to Stella in two months, and there was no way out.
But his dream bachelor party might have at least been a consolation prize. Even if he had to spend it with the Goetia elites who seemed to dislike him, it would have been nice to do something he enjoyed.
Instead he was subjected to a fancy dinner, and was now being dragged to a strip club in Lust, called Dancing Bare. At least the name was clever! The play on the Earth phenomenon of dancing bears was not appreciated by any of his fellow Goetia, however.
“No one cares about Earth creatures, Stolas,” Andrealphus, his soon to be brother-in-law, said. The peacock demon had spent the whole evening complaining about having to go to the strip club in the first place. But Stolas' father had insisted, as it was a Goetia tradition to visit a commoners strip club as one last hurrah before marriage. Stolas had a feeling Andrealphus was just grumpy because Vassago had needed to bow out. Stolas wished he could have come. He liked Vassago quite a bit. Though, he suspected, not as much as Andrealphus did.
The music was overwhelmingly loud, the bass pounding through his body in rhythmic thuds. It was a large club, and crowded. The lights were dim, with strobes and bright colors illuminating demons in various states of undress all around the club. On the main stage, there was an imp with large horns spinning around one of the poles, and Stolas' found his eyes were absolutely glued to him. He was one of the most attractive demons Stolas had ever seen, made even more so by the fact that he was wearing only a leather vest and a pair of black panties that barely covered him.
art by @kiaxian2 on twitter & bluesky
Stolas' mouth felt dry.
The chatter of his fellow Goetia no longer mattered. He let it wash away with the music that the imp was dancing to. The imp was flexible, and moved with an ease in his body that made him feel almost dangerous. Stolas focused in on him, watching the ripple of muscle as he slid down the pole, almost able to ignore the snap of Aamon's fingers trying to get his attention.
“Stolas! What do you want to drink?” Aamon said, with the tone of someone who was repeating themselves, nodding at the spider demon who was tapping her toes impatiently. Ah, yes. Picking up the garishly coloured menu, he pointed at the first thing that caught his eye “I'll have a…oh, my! A long hard fuck?” He squeaked, face warming as the Goetia around him laughed. The spider demon just blinked her glossy eyes and skittered away, returning a few minutes later with three trays of drinks.
Stolas took his violently purple concoction, and gulped it down as fast as he could, hoping that being drunk would help the evening pass as quickly as possible.
“Choose one of the strippers,” Aamon encouraged him. “Get a lap dance. Your father would be disappointed if you didn't. It's your last chance before you're stuck with Stella forever, after all.”
“Shall I pretend I didn't hear you speak about my sister like that?” Andrealphus asked.
“Pretend whatever pleases you most Andrealphus,” Aamon said, his beak twisted into a sharp smile.
Stolas tuned out the bickering. He knew exactly who he wanted, but he felt strange asking for a dance with him. He didn't know his name or what he was like, and Stolas felt overdressed. And it was probably weird to want him. Plus, why would the handsome imp even want to dance for him in the first place?
Just then the imp looked up and caught Stolas' eye. He gave him a wink, and ran his hands down his body, snapping the hem of his underwear.
“Him,” Stolas said before he could think better of it.
The Goetia around him looked to where Stolas was pointing and Aamon laughed. “Interesting choice,” he said. Stolas felt a pang of fear, but Aamon simply waved at the handsome imp, indicating that he should come over once he'd finished his dance.
Stolas spent the next few seconds agonizing over what to do. He couldn't leave, though he thought desperately of running like a coward. He was going to be alone with the most attractive demon he'd ever seen in his life. What was he supposed to do? Was he going to be allowed to touch him? The thought made his knees feel weak.
He felt as though he was made of stone as the imp made his way over.
“You looking for a dance for all of you?” he asked. Oh Hell, even his voice was sexy.
“Just for him,” Andrealphus said, nodding to Stolas, a sneer on his beak. Aamon handed him some cash, and the imp counted it, not seeming very impressed.
“Great. Come on, pretty bird,” the imp said, making Stolas’ feathers fluff at the nickname. He thought he was pretty?
“Thank fuck it's just you,” the imp said when they had gotten far enough away from the other Goetia. “That ice queen seemed like a bitch, and the rest of your pals weren't much better.”
“Oh, they aren't my pals,” Stolas said.
The imp laughed. “Okay, damn. You're a bit of an ice queen too,” he said.
“My apologies! It’s just that they've never liked me. I've never fit in with them, and I don't really want to,” Stolas explained. “Maybe I am a bit of an ice queen.”
“Nah, hating the bastards who hate you is normal,” the imp said. They moved through a curtain into a room with many booths that were separated from each other by dividers. Stolas could see a few other demons getting lap dances. If they were anything to go by, this was going to be a lot to deal with. Stolas felt his face heating at just the thought of this imp doing the things he was seeing to him.
But there was no time to back out. His imp dancer placed a hand on the chest fluff that was peeking out of Stolas' shirt, and shoved him down into his seat.
His hips were mesmerizing. His ass was hypnotizing. His whole body was perfection. He was all rippling muscle and raw sex appeal, and Stolas knew he was in trouble from the first swing of the imp’s hips.
He watched breathlessly as the imp turned around and bent over to show off his ass. He rolled his body back up so smoothly that Stolas was strangely envious for a moment.
He bent back in half again, and moved his hips in a half circle, and Stolas followed the motion with his eyes hungrily.
art by @hellamews on twitter & bluesky
`
When the imp turned around he moved in closer and ran a hand down Stolas' chest. Then he sat himself fully in Stolas' lap. Stolas made a sound of some sort, but the imp didn't seem to mind. He leaned forward, rocking so that instead of his ass pressing against Stolas' legs his groin was pressed to Stolas' groin. Then he started to grind and Stolas just about lost his mind.
Stolas' eyes were drawn to the chest in front of him, and the imp's pecs practically made him drool. And it seemed the other demon noticed because he gave a wicked grin.
“Go ahead, you can touch. Just above the waist though, you freaking pervert,” the imp said. Stolas had a moment of panic. Was he a pervert?
His hands twitched in his lap, and the imp rolled his eyes. He took Stolas' hands in his and placed them both on his pecs. “Come on. Feel me up.”
Whether he was a pervert or not no longer mattered, because the imp's body was hot and his nipples were hard and Stolas wanted him. He'd never wanted someone like this before. Even his crush on Alejandro from his favourite TV show HellaNovella didn't hold a candle to how this felt.
He squeezed the flesh in his hands and the imp grinned, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. “There you go, have some fun.”
Stolas wanted to tell him that he was. He was having more fun than he'd had, maybe ever. But he couldn't speak, not with his brain melting out of his ears.
Then the imp was grinding down again, his hips moving in the most mesmerizing way. But despite his movements, the other demon frowned. Stolas didn't know why, but the frown was unacceptable. He was being a bad client, somehow. Bolstered by his desire to please the imp, Stolas squeezed his pecs in encouragement, and the imp locked eyes with him. Stolas nearly lost his breath. He'd never seen someone so beautiful before.
Then a look of understanding dawned on his imp dancer’s face. “Oh damn, I forgot that you birds don't have dicks,” the imp said, then laughed to himself. “I thought I was doing a shit job at turning you on for a minute there.”
“No, I assure you, you are doing a fantastic job at that,” Stolas said. He did his level best not to squirm, especially when the imp’s gaze sharpened along with his grin.
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice dipping low and going sort of growly. “You getting wet for me?”
Stolas was broken. His brain simply shut down, all focus abruptly rerouting to his cloaca, which was throbbing with want.
He must have made a sound, because the imp was laughing again. The sound was so sensual it made Stolas shiver.
“That good, huh?” the imp asked.
“Yes,” Stolas breathed.
The imp looked smug about it. Stolas couldn't blame him.
The imp grabbed one of his hands, holding it against his body and guiding it down his perfectly sculpted abs to just above the line of his panties. Stolas nearly choked on his own tongue.
“That’s time,” the imp said. “I mean technically your shitty not-pals only paid for one song, and I gave you three, but any more than that and I'm gonna get in shit.”
Stolas' hand was released and in an instant he was digging through his pockets, handing the imp a handful of bills without even counting them. “For your time,” Stolas said.
The imp's eyes went wide, and he snatched the money as though he thought Stolas might withdraw it.
“Satan. You're my new favorite customer,” the imp said.
“My name is Stolas,” Stolas offered up. The imp’s brow furrowed, but after a moment he shrugged.
“Name’s Blitzø. The O is silent,” he said. Stolas took a moment to spell out the name Blitz in his head, not sure where an O might fit. But it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that Blitzø was climbing off of his lap, leaving him feeling chilled and strangely empty.
“It was lovely to meet you, Blitzø,” Stolas said. “Thank you very much for the dance.”
Blitzø laughed. “You’re polite as fuck. That's cute,” he said. “Sure beats dancing for some of the assholes in here, let me tell ya.”
Stolas frowned at the thought of anyone being rude or worse, cruel to Blitzø. “I’m sorry to hear you've had unpleasant customers,” he offered.
“Kinda comes with the territory, but thanks,” Blitzø said. “Do you want to come up to the VIP room? The dance can get dirtier if you want it to.”
Stolas desperately wanted to. But he knew the other Goetia would never wait for that.
“Unfortunately the pricks I came here with wouldn't like that,” he said, feeling very bold for calling them pricks to someone else. He said it a lot to himself, but never to another person.
“Fuck those guys. If you're okay leaving here without them you should come. Live a little before you get married,” Blitzø encouraged him.
Unfortunately the mention of his marriage reminded him of his duties and the fact that he wasn't allowed to just leave his Goetia group for the night.
“I can't. But, I suppose I'll come back, if that's okay?”
“Come back whenever, Birdie. I work every day except Wednesday and Thursday.”
Stolas nodded, feeling a little spark of hope. It was Saturday now, and the beginning of the month, which meant he could come back for almost two months before he married Stella. He planned on coming every day that he could.
Blitzø led Stolas out of the back room, back into the blinding strobe lights and booming music.
Stolas felt as though time was moving too quickly and yet in slow motion all at once. He could see the other Goetia waiting for him across the room. Could see Blitzø actively losing interest in him as he looked around the club, likely searching for his next lap dance partner.
“Thank you,” Stolas said, a tad desperately. “That was… likely the only moment of happiness I'll have these next two months.”
Blitzø's attention was suddenly back on him. “Aren't you getting married?” he half shouted, trying to be heard over the music.
“In two months, yes,” Stolas replied, sounding sad to his own ears. “But I wish I wasn't.”
Blitzø's brow furrowed. “So don't,” he said.
He wished that that was an option. Wished he could simply leave, live his life as he wanted. But he couldn't.
“I- it's not that simple,” Stolas said.
Blitzø shrugged. “Fine. I don't know your life. I just think if you're not excited about it, what's the point? Marriage is stupid anyway. Relationships are a trap. No one needs that shit, you just need a good lay every once in a while.”
Stolas frowned. Relationships in his dramas always seemed wonderful. Messy, certainly, and complicated too. But wonderful all the same.
“Stolas!” someone called his name from the group of Goetia. He looked over and waved at them to give him a second.
“It was very nice meeting you Blitzø,” he said, for lack of anything better to say.
“Sure. You too,” Blitzø responded. He was looking at Stolas like he was some problem to be solved. “See ya around.”
Stolas watched him turn and make his way across the room. Already someone was motioning him over. Stolas figured he must be pretty popular with the clientele of this place, given the fact that Blitzø was the most attractive demon he'd ever seen in his life.
“Stolas! Come on, now that you've finished up with the commoner we can finally leave,” Andrealphus said.
Stolas felt his heart sinking down down down. He didn't want to leave. He was so sick of doing what he didn't want to do.
“Coming,” he called back, causing some of the other Goetia to giggle.
“Was the dance that good?” Aamon asked him.
Stolas wasn't sure if he should roll his eyes or blush. He settled on both.
“It was fine,” he lied. Fine didn't even begin to cover the experience he'd just had, but his fellow Goetia didn't need to know that.
“Can we leave now,” Andrealphus asked, looking down his nose at a half naked female imp who stopped halfway in her journey towards him and seemingly decided that someone else would be a better target for a lap dance. Smart.
“Yes, I think I am ready to leave now,” Stolas said, wishing he could stay.
Their group stood and moved as a flock towards the door. Stolas looked back once more before he left, catching sight of Blitzø one last time before the door closed behind him.