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Authors: Anya Byrne
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pushed back the treacherous thoughts and
focused on his costume once again. Really, for something he was meant to take
off after only a few minutes, the damn outfit was ridiculously elaborate.
Still, he was used to it by now, so by the time V called out to him again, he
was ready.
He touched up on his make up and rushed out of the dressing
room. The previous dancer—a big man in a cowboy costume whom Owen only knew as
Loneheart—was just leaving the stage. Loneheart greeted him with a grin,
tipping his hat at him. "Hey, Ink. Quite a crowd out there tonight. Good
tips. What do you say? Will you do better than me?"
Owen smiled back. He liked most of the dancers here. Even if
they all hid behind masks, they were nice enough, more so than any people Owen had
met in his "real life". The supposed competition between them was all
in good fun, and no one really resented Owen for being among the most popular
dancers.
"I suppose we'll just have to see what happens, won't
we?" he teased.
Loneheart chuckled, and at a different time, Owen would have
loved to stick around and chat more. But duty called, and V's familiar voice
was already announcing his stage name. "Good luck, Ink," Loneheart
said, winking.
Owen braced himself and with one last nod of acknowledgment, he
stepped out into the light. The crowd exploded into enthusiastic applause, and
Owen became someone entirely different—the Incubus.
When he swayed his hips, following the beat of the music, he
didn't think about anything else but the motion. He let go, losing himself in
the seductive tones of the melody. His body remembered the choreography, each
movement coming to him as naturally as breathing. He took one step forward,
then several steps back, extending his arms in invitation. He curled his leg
over the pole in the center of the stage and rubbed against the metal before
performing a flip that even a gymnast would have envied. He slid his corset
off, tossing his hair and letting it fall back in a dark curtain. And all the
while, he managed to ignore the crowd watching him, even if technically
speaking, he was dancing for them.
Only... He wasn't, not really. At one time, he had completely
tuned everything out except the song, pretending he was in his room practicing
instead of stripping for people who paid to see the show. But Owen barely
remembered that now. Had that only been months ago? Owen couldn't answer that.
He just knew everything had changed when the stranger had stepped into his
life. Since then, whenever the man was present, it was Owen who faced the
crowd. His Incubus mask was there for everyone else, but not for him .
Even as he moved, Owen let his body speak for him. It wasn't
the music that had his attention, but the fierce presence of the stranger who
haunted his dreams. He dropped to his knees and crawled to the center of the
stage like a panther, all the while looking solely at the man. He was thankful
for the mask hiding his eyes, because he didn't think he could have kept the
truth from the rest of the crowd if not for it.
The tight leather pants did very little to hide Owen's body,
and in fact, served more to emphasize his best assets. As such, there was no
way to conceal the reaction the stranger had on Owen's dick. When he got up, he
had men crawling over each other to reach for him, shouting things Owen
studiously ignored. The bills they waved were more important, and with the
skill of long practice, Owen managed to grab them even if the bouncers kept the
patrons back.
Still, Owen's focus remained completely on the stranger. He
sat at the same table as always, one located in the VIP section that directly
faced the stage. They weren't exactly eye to eye, and the lights kept Owen from
distinguishing the man's features. Nonetheless, Owen could practically feel
that dark gaze burning into his skin. In fact, maybe he felt a little like the
incubus he'd been named after, because he found himself humping the steel pole
and caressing his own
focused on his costume once again. Really, for something he was meant to take
off after only a few minutes, the damn outfit was ridiculously elaborate.
Still, he was used to it by now, so by the time V called out to him again, he
was ready.
He touched up on his make up and rushed out of the dressing
room. The previous dancer—a big man in a cowboy costume whom Owen only knew as
Loneheart—was just leaving the stage. Loneheart greeted him with a grin,
tipping his hat at him. "Hey, Ink. Quite a crowd out there tonight. Good
tips. What do you say? Will you do better than me?"
Owen smiled back. He liked most of the dancers here. Even if
they all hid behind masks, they were nice enough, more so than any people Owen had
met in his "real life". The supposed competition between them was all
in good fun, and no one really resented Owen for being among the most popular
dancers.
"I suppose we'll just have to see what happens, won't
we?" he teased.
Loneheart chuckled, and at a different time, Owen would have
loved to stick around and chat more. But duty called, and V's familiar voice
was already announcing his stage name. "Good luck, Ink," Loneheart
said, winking.
Owen braced himself and with one last nod of acknowledgment, he
stepped out into the light. The crowd exploded into enthusiastic applause, and
Owen became someone entirely different—the Incubus.
When he swayed his hips, following the beat of the music, he
didn't think about anything else but the motion. He let go, losing himself in
the seductive tones of the melody. His body remembered the choreography, each
movement coming to him as naturally as breathing. He took one step forward,
then several steps back, extending his arms in invitation. He curled his leg
over the pole in the center of the stage and rubbed against the metal before
performing a flip that even a gymnast would have envied. He slid his corset
off, tossing his hair and letting it fall back in a dark curtain. And all the
while, he managed to ignore the crowd watching him, even if technically
speaking, he was dancing for them.
Only... He wasn't, not really. At one time, he had completely
tuned everything out except the song, pretending he was in his room practicing
instead of stripping for people who paid to see the show. But Owen barely
remembered that now. Had that only been months ago? Owen couldn't answer that.
He just knew everything had changed when the stranger had stepped into his
life. Since then, whenever the man was present, it was Owen who faced the
crowd. His Incubus mask was there for everyone else, but not for him .
Even as he moved, Owen let his body speak for him. It wasn't
the music that had his attention, but the fierce presence of the stranger who
haunted his dreams. He dropped to his knees and crawled to the center of the
stage like a panther, all the while looking solely at the man. He was thankful
for the mask hiding his eyes, because he didn't think he could have kept the
truth from the rest of the crowd if not for it.
The tight leather pants did very little to hide Owen's body,
and in fact, served more to emphasize his best assets. As such, there was no
way to conceal the reaction the stranger had on Owen's dick. When he got up, he
had men crawling over each other to reach for him, shouting things Owen
studiously ignored. The bills they waved were more important, and with the
skill of long practice, Owen managed to grab them even if the bouncers kept the
patrons back.
Still, Owen's focus remained completely on the stranger. He
sat at the same table as always, one located in the VIP section that directly
faced the stage. They weren't exactly eye to eye, and the lights kept Owen from
distinguishing the man's features. Nonetheless, Owen could practically feel
that dark gaze burning into his skin. In fact, maybe he felt a little like the
incubus he'd been named after, because he found himself humping the steel pole
and caressing his own
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