~1.

[NYX]

“How much for a kiss, little minx?”

Neon lights swept across the dimly lit room, slow, sensual music curling through the air like smoke.

“How much do you think my mouth is worth?”

A slender finger traced the sharp edge of his customer’s jaw.

The man—mid-fifties, maybe—snorted, then slid a $400 bill into the heart-shaped cutout of Rabbit’s costume.

A wide smile spread across the young stripper’s face. He pushed the bill deeper into his top before giving a sharp whistle.

“A BB!”

The waiter nodded, hurrying off, and returned moments later with a uniquely shaped bottle.

“That’s more like it.”

The man chuckled, slouching back, legs spread wide in invitation.

Nyx set the bottle between the man’s thighs, dragging his tongue slowly along its curve. At the same time, the man’s hand moved over his lap, impatient, greedy.

Nyx snickered softly and took the bottle into his mouth, lips closing around it as his masked gaze stayed locked on the man. One eye—a swirl of pink and red. The other—a pale, striking blue. A minx through and through.

He took his time.

Licking.

Sucking.

Teasing.

Then, with a soft pop, he pulled the cap free and swallowed the contents in one smooth motion.

Without breaking eye contact, he shifted forward, straddling the man, and crashed their lips together—pouring the drink into his mouth.

The man responded instantly, like something starved. He chased Nyx’s lips, devouring, shuddering as he finished while swallowing every drop.

Nyx pulled back just enough to breathe, then gently stroked the man’s head, as if to praise him for a job well done.

What a disgusting old man. He thought to himself.

Rabbit retched for the fifth time that night, gripping the edge of the toilet as his body convulsed. The muffled bass of the club throbbed through the walls, each pulse pounding against his skull.

His stomach twisted again. There was barely anything left in his belly, but he forced it out anyway.

“You know you could have said no.”

Someone crouched beside him, holding out a bottle of water.

“I wish I could.”

“I know.”

A hand rubbed slow circles over his back in a comforting manner.

He rinsed his mouth, wiped his face, breathing hard.

“Thanks… you’re the best, Sky.”

Skyler had been the second best thing to happen in his life.

The first had fallen apart.

His mother left and remarried. His father didn’t take it well—spiraled into alcohol, then drugs. Money bled out fast. What was left of their life in Alaska disappeared, and Rabbit found himself dragged all the way to the States, struggling to make ends meet.

“How’s your dad’s rehab going?”

Right.

He had managed that much, at least. Got him into a program. Now he worked—anything and everything—to keep it going. Tuition. Bills. Survival. And out of all the jobs he had taken up, this job… this one paid the most.

“It's going great…”

“He still won’t contact you?”

“….”

“He’ll come around. Soon enough.”

“Yeah.”

“You better get going. You’ve got early lectures tomorrow, don’t ya?”

“I do. I’ll leave soon.”

“Alright. Get some sleep, yeah?”

Sky squeezed his shoulder before bouncing out of the bathroom, leaving the door swinging slightly behind him.

Silence settled in.

Rabbit stared at his reflection for a moment before reaching up, wiping the last traces of makeup from his face. The person staring back looked… smaller.

Sighing, he plucked the contact from his other eye and quickly slipped on his thick lensed glasses

He tucked the silver masquerade mask carefully into his bag that Skylar had brought for him

“Seriously… what would I do without him?”