“Shutting up now.” Russel pretended to zip his mouth closed.
Michael glared at Mac, who pressed his lips together tightly. Michael chuckled under his breath. Hanging out with Mac and Russel was never boring, which was probably why he came back week after week despite their teasing and flirting. Friends like them were hard to find, and he was glad he had them in his life.
8Jag
The dancers were allowed to go to the club early to use the practise poles in the changing room, so they could work on new moves or routines. Jag had found out pretty quickly that hardly anyone ever did, so most evenings he had the room to himself for at least an hour if he wanted it.
He was working on holding his inverted poses for longer. Breathing in, he bent over and gripped the pole with his outside arm at knee height and his other arm at chest height. Taking all his weight through his arms, he lifted his legs, extending them into box splits as he rocked forwards and then back, giving himself the momentum to push up so he was upside down, gripping the pole between his bent knees. He let go with his hands, splaying his arms out and arching his back. He stayed where he was, dealing with the pounding in his skull as the blood rushed to his head.
He glanced up as he heard the door open. Michael walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. The club owner said nothing as he leant against the wall and folded his arms, watching intently. Jag gripped the pole with his hands again and kicked his legs down to the ground as though coming out of a handstand. He kept hold of the pole with his near arm, leaning back slightly as he returned Michael’s stare.
“You don’t have to stop on my account,” Michael said.
“Enjoying the private show?”
Michael scratched the side of his nose. “Yes.”
Jag walked round the pole, grasping it with both hands above his head and twisting, so he was walking backward. He pulled his legs up until he was in an inverted straddle, his left arm pressed against his thigh, to apply pressure to the pole so he didn’t slide down it. He pulled his right hand away from the pole, stretching it out for a count of three before reaching up to grab the pole again. He didn’t release the pressure on his left thigh until he’d brought his legs together, crossed at the ankles. Only then did he dare move his left hand and twist his body so he could grip the pole beneath him. He slipped a little, he always did, but he quickly regained his balance, uncrossing his ankles and extending his left arm into aSupermanpose.
Michael let out a soft whistle. “Impressive. Can we talk?”
Jag set his feet back on the ground and pushed his hair back. “About?”
Michael lifted his chin. “Saturday night.”
Jag puffed out a breath. “It was fun.”
“Yes.”
“What more is there to say?”
Michael pushed away from the wall and strode over to him. He wrapped one arm around Jag’s waist and touched his fingertips to Jag’s cheek and jaw. “Whether we should do it again.”
Jag stared up into Michael’s blue eyes. He’d asked himself that question several times over the last couple of days and hadn’t managed to come to a conclusion. His body wanted to, but his head advised caution. He wasn’t sure Michael was definitely the no-strings type.
“Do you want to?” Michael asked, dipping his face almost close enough to kiss Jag’s lips.
“Depends.”
“On?”
“If we want the same thing.”
Michael pursed his lips. “Sex?”
“Just sex,” Jag clarified. His pulse had increased, and his breathing was becoming shallow, thanks to his close proximity to Michael, but he wasn’t going to let his arousal make him forget rule number five. “I’m not looking for anything permanent.”
Michael brushed his lips over Jag’s. “Nor am I.”
Jag’s eyelids fluttered shut. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Michael’s lips made contact with his again, this time pressing into a firm kiss. “Stay after closing,” Michael whispered, nuzzling Jag’s neck. “I’ll help you wash off the body paint.”
Jag shivered. Michael’s hand pushed beneath his waistband, brushing against his skin. He kissed Jag’s neck and collarbone, moving his hands from Jag’s face to his chest. He brushed the flat of his hand over Jag’s nipple, a firm motion that made Jag suck in a shaky breath. This was a different side to Michael. On Saturday, he’d seemed hesitant and almost uncertain, happy for Jag to take the lead and call all the shots. Now, he was most definitely trying to take control. As much as Jag wanted to press himself against Michael’s body and enjoy his touch and kisses, he couldn’t give that up to him. So he took it back.
He pressed his hand against Michael’s chest, manoeuvring him to the worn-out sofa in the corner of the room. He pushed Michael onto it and straddled his lap, grasping Michael’s shirt in his fist. He pulled the older man into an intense kiss, not letting up until Michael had relaxed completely.
Michael chuckled. He put his hands on Jag’s hips, pulling him closer. “I’m not going to play the submissive,” he said, nipping at Jag’s jaw.
