Title: Full House of Leather
Author: Reikah
Pairing: Kurogane/Fai/Yuui (threesome)
Category: AU
Warnings: Porn.

Notes: Inspired by a prompt on livejournal's clampkink meme. Dedicated to Bottan, who drew ridiculously beautiful fanart from a later scene that can be found here: konnichipuu . livejournal . com / 5737 . html

In retrospect he should probably have seen it coming. Fuuma's nineteenth birthday had been a mess; half the group had ended up spending the night in police custody for underage drunkenness, Kurogane amongst them, and he really ought to have learned from that. But Fuuma had been a friend for a long time, and Kurogane apparently had no short-term memory (probably because of all the booze), so when he got the text message 20th birthday bash tonite! i'll pick u up xxx he hadn't thought about it for too long before replying sure.

He really should've considered it. At the time he'd felt nothing but a spot of amusement at how gay Fuuma sounded in his text messages, which was his first warning.

Fuuma turned up on his doorstep at twenty past seven, wearing a clean shirt and jeans and twirling his car keys around one finger. He had a pretty vicious black eye, and when Kurogane asked if he'd gotten it in a fight just laughed and said, "Yeah, you could say that alright."

"Huh?" Kurogane said, confused.

"Kamui's still a little pissed," Fuuma said, leering. "He shows it in the sack."

"Tch, alright, I get it," Kurogane said hastily, hoping to interrupt another burst of too much information. "Whatever. We going to another bar?"

"You're the worst fuckin' monk ever," Fuuma said cheerfully. "We're going someplace better."

"As long as it's not the place we went last year," Kurogane said, scowling. "I think half of us are still banned from there."

"We're twenty now! We have to move on from seedy bars that don't card us as much as they should."

"Hnn," Kurogane replied, narrowing his eyes, and Fuuma just grinned at him brightly and blankly.

"Come on," he said. "You'll enjoy it. You need to relax. Let's go, Kentaro and Takashi are in the car. The others are gonna meet us there."

Kurogane privately didn't think there was anything wrong with him or that he needed to relax, but Fuuma was an idiot and it was best not to remark on his stupid schemes. He grabbed his wallet, keys and cellphone, shoving them into the back pocket of his jeans, and checked his reflection critically in the mirror. He looked presentable enough - clean, shaved, with a red button-up shirt and black jeans. The biker boots didn't match the rest, but he liked them and they were comfortable. "I pass the dress code?" he asked, checking.

"Oh yeah," Fuuma said. "Hurry up."

Kentaro and Takashi were bickering when Fuuma opened the driver's side and slipped behind the wheel; Kurogane cracked open the passenger door, seized Kentaro and hauled him out of the car, ignoring his protests, and tossed him in the back seat next to his boyfriend.

"Manly," said Fuuma, amused, as the two of them continued their squabble as if the interruption had never happened. "It's hard to see why you're still a virgin."

"Shut up," Kurogane said, coloring. He hated Fuuma's car; he was far too tall for it and he shifted awkwardly trying to fit his legs into the footwell.

"Well, it's not like monks can't tap ass. And you're not even a real monk yet."

"And you're a real pain in my ass," Kurogane groused, deliberately turning away to look out the window. Fuuma sighed, like he was real put-upon, and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.

"All this rage isn't good for you," he said. "Remind me to buy you some time when we get there."

"What? Get where?"

"You'll see! I promise you, it'll be awesome," Fuuma said smugly as they turned off the road, and Kurogane hunched down in his seat. Doing things Fuuma thought were 'gonna be awesome' was probably why Kamui had punched him in the face.

The bar Fuuma eventually pulled up to was no different than many clubs Kurogane had been to since turning twenty. The bass had been cranked up and was audible from the street, and two bouncers loitered outside, dressed in black and wearing sunglasses at quarter to eight in the evening like the dicks they undoubtedly were. The parking lot was full of cars, some very expensive and some rather not; Kurogane recognized several of them as belonging to members of their group. Fuuma nosed his rather unremarkable vehicle in next to a shiny gray Mercedes.

"Hey," he said happily. "Yuuko-sensei's here."

"What?" Kurogane stared at him in shock and then leaned forward, following his friend's gaze. He wasn't wrong; there their professor stood, in a black dress that revealed more skin than Kurogane was comfortable with. She was smoking one of her ridiculously elaborate pipes and standing with Lantis, who was talking in a low voice to a group of Kurogane and Fuuma's fellow students. "You invited her?"

"Yup," Fuuma said, grinning. "She's gonna get the cover charge."

"That woman is evil," Kurogane reminded him, but Fuuma just laughed. "No, I'm serious. If I believed in hell, she would rule it."

"You're just angry about the photos she took -"

"She's supposed to be an adult! She's way too old -"

"Yup! Here's hoping the bouncers think so too," Fuuma interrupted. He popped his door open and swung out, snapping it shut behind him, and Kurogane followed.

"We have ID, we can get in ourselves," he said. "What do we need her for?"

"'Cos this isn't an ordinary club, Kurogane," Fuuma replied. "It's a strip club!"

"I - what?" Kurogane let his protests tail off, staring at the building. He'd always been taught strip clubs were seedy dens of iniquity. This one looked like a perfectly ordinary night club, albeit with a shorter entrance queue. Still, that explained the shortage of women outside. "Why're we going to a strip club?" he asked, puzzled. "You're gay."

Fuuma just shot him a smug, knowing look. "You're so naive, Kurogane," he said, in that tone of voice that always made Kurogane want to punch him in the face, childhood best friend or not.

The answer to that question became apparent pretty much as soon as they entered. Kurogane had never been in a strip club before and wasn't sure what to expect; what he got was a well-lit room with a bar running along one side, tables placed around it at neat intervals, music thudding against his ears and drunk men heckling a raised stage that ran along one wall -

- a stage on which a man wearing nothing more than a thong was seducing a pole.

"Fuuma," he said tightly, while Yuuko stuck two fingers in her mouth and wolf-whistled.

"You can swap your cash for smaller denominations at the bar," Fuuma replied helpfully.

"Fuuma. I'm not gay -"

"And I'm not a man, but I'm planning on enjoying myself anyway," Yuuko interrupted cheerfully. "Go get me a seat at the front, I need to change up some money."

"Get it yourself!" Kurogane spat, his hackles up, and Yuuko looked at him and then sighed long-sufferingly, shaking her head as though he had disappointed her.

"Hear that?" she said to nobody in particular. "Two years I've been teaching him. Such poor morals from the young nowadays."

"Kurogane," Fuuma said, slinging an arm across his shoulders. "I get that you're repressed -"

"Fuck you!"

"- and a virgin as well as being in the closet -"

"I'm -"

"- and incapable of having fun without bitching about it. But it's my birthday. Don't let me down, man!"

The group as a whole split then, some heading to the bar, others up to the stage. The dancer on the stage was a stocky figure rippling with muscle; Kurogane eyed him dubiously, the dark curls on his bare chest and thighs. The thong was alarming.

He wasn't gay. Just because he didn't care about girls didn't mean he liked men; he'd seen more of Fuuma than anyone except maybe Kamui would ever want to, and he'd never lusted after Fuuma. He didn't look at male models or anything like that and jerk off to them, and the guy on the stage wasn't doing a whole lot for him. With a sigh he headed to the bar; it would no doubt be a long night.

The bartender was a guy around Kurogane's age, dark haired and bored-looking. He pulled Kurogane his beer and said nothing when Kurogane chose to start drinking it at the counter; maybe this was a popular hiding spot for straight men who accidentally found themselves here. "How'd you want your change?" he said.

"However," Kurogane said. The beer wasn't particularly good considering how much it cost, but he gulped it down anyway. "And I'll have another one."

"Generally it's good policy to tip the bartender," said the guy, deadpan as he laid Kurogane's change across the polished wooden counter top, and Kurogane glared at him and then pushed the money back.

"Touya, don't bully the customers," said a new voice, and a slim, short man with pale hair and glasses in a waiter's uniform came up beside Kurogane. He had a tray tucked under one arm.

"It's not bullying, Yukito." The bartender - Touya - reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of vodka with one hand even as the other pulled shot glasses out of a shelf above his health; he mixed shots with practiced hands. "If I mentioned my poor, sick little sister in an effort to get more cash, that would be bullying. Drop this one off at the dancer's table, Fai was making parched faces at me earlier."

"Your sister's sick?" Kurogane asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Sakura-chan isn't sick," the waiter assured him, loading the shot glasses onto the tray and taking the glass Touya had indicated belonged to this 'Fai' in his free hand; the drink therein was pink and had a paper umbrella sticking out of it.

"Yet," Touya said darkly, and Yukito laughed at him. Kurogane took another long mouthful of his beer; behind him the music changed, a new beat pulsing and quick.

"It's busy here tonight. Usually we don't have anywhere near this many on a weekday."

"We don't usually have the twins dancing on a weekday either," Touya said.

As if to illustrate his words, another group of laughing men came through the door. They gathered for a moment just inside, like Fuuma's gang had done, and then made a beeline for the bar; Kurogane took his beer and slipped away before they arrived.

He scanned the room for someplace to sit; all the tables seemed at least partially full of loud, shouting men, many of whom seemed unable to sit upright. His friends were in the seats in front of the stage, where the stocky dancer of earlier had been joined by an androgynous man with a tattoo that covered half his chest and a short slim kid with dyed red hair, all of them twitching their hips back and forth to the thudding of the bass. As he watched Kentaro darted toward and slipped a folded note into the redhead's thong, to the general amusement of the group; the redhead acted like he didn't even notice.

Kurogane turned his head away, shaking his head, and as he did so he spotted one table wedged against the far wall next to the stage, near the door he assumed led to the restrooms; there was only one person there, a man with light blond hair who sat with his back to Kurogane. He wandered over. It was a little too close to the speakers, but he didn't want to be standing around in the middle of the room for however many hours it took for Fuuma to get bored and give him a lift home.

"Hey," he said, approaching. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the music. "Can I sit here?"

The man twisted to look at him, surprised; he was clearly a foreigner, with blue eyes to match his pale hair. Kurogane hoped he spoke Japanese, but doubted it. Carefully, dredging up forgotten and barely used English, he tried in that tongue. "Hello. I sit here?"

"Oh. I don't mind if you sit down, but I'm afraid my boss will," said the blond in almost completely unaccented Japanese, grinning. He reached forward, pulling something off the table that Kurogane hadn't seen, and handed it to Kurogane over his shoulder; it was a piece of paper upon which someone had printed the words employees only. "Why not sit down over there and watch the dancing?"

Kurogane felt himself flushing and hated it. "It's not my thing," he said.

The blond raised an eyebrow. "You're at a gay strip club, and watching gay strippers isn't your thing."

Well, when put like that, it did sound ridiculous. "I was... it's my friend's birthday. He kind of tricked me here."

The blond cushioned his chin on the palm of one hand and twisted in his seat, to face Kurogane entirely. He wore a pair of faded jeans over sneakers that had seen better years, and a t-shirt that loudly proclaimed to the world that he was a fan of AC/DC. His hair was longer than Kurogane's own and was twisted into a miniature ponytail behind his neck, and he was nursing the pink drink with the umbrella. "Oho! I've seen lots of birthday parties in here before, but nobody who was tricked into coming," he said, amused. "What's your name, Mr tall, dark and handsome?"

"Kurogane," he replied, a little off guard. Was the man flirting with him?

"That's way too long to remember. And definitely too long to scream in bed. There's nothing for it -"

Wait, what? "Did you just -"

"- I'll have to call you something else. Kuro-tan? Kuro-rin? Or," and here the blond's mouth curved in a positively wicked smile, "if you hit the right spot, it might be Kuro-sama, eh?"

Kurogane stared at him, aware that he was gaping and that it didn't suit him. How could this man say these things with so little shame? "My name is Kurogane," he managed, when he had gathered his wits.

"And I'm Fai! However, I answer to kitty, stud or baby during sex."

"Stop saying things like that!" Kurogane hissed. "It's - inappropriate!"

"Gay strip club," Fai reminded him airily, as though Kurogane were an idiot. "It's not like I'm asking you to marry me. I bet you have a nice dick, that's all!"

The blond was a pervert and a moron, Kurogane decided. He was clearly deranged and therefore Kurogane shouldn't be encouraging him. He cast a longing look at the bar and was astonished at how busy it was.

"I've changed my mind," Fai said cheerfully. "You can sit down here after all, since it's just me!"

Reluctantly Kurogane sat down opposite the man, and Fai went back to gazing at him over the table assessingly. His blue eyes were very bright in the club lighting. Sitting, Kurogane realized the blond was taller than he had thought; nowhere near Kurogane's own height, but tall nonetheless. "The, uh, bartender said this place isn't usually this busy," he said.

"It's not. Tonight is a special occasion! Your friend picked a good day to celebrate his birthday here, Kuro-rin," Fai said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He brought one leg up and across his lap as he leaned back in his chair, his movements fluid and graceful, and Kurogane swallowed. There was something to his eyes, to the pale skin revealed where the t-shirt ended, the long throat. He seemed to fit in despite his scruffy clothing.

"What exactly do you do here?" Kurogane asked, narrowing his eyes, and the pervert grinned at him lazily.

"I'm a dancer," he said, confirming Kurogane's suspicions. "I know I'm not dressed for it, but don't worry, Kuro-chan: I'm not wearing any underwear under these jeans."

Kurogane fought to keep his face still. "That's gross," he said, and although there was a slight hint of tension in his voice he didn't think it was too obvious.

Fai just smiled and sipped at his drink, allowing his legs to fall apart. Kurogane could see his crotch, and couldn't help looking. "Eyes up here, Kuro-closeted," Fai said, and he jerked his gaze up to the dancer's amused blue eyes, cheeks burning pink. Fai just tipped his head back, slurping the very last of his drink from his glass, and swallowed very slowly. His Adam's apple bobbed pointedly.

Kurogane licked his lips and looked away. "I think I need another drink," he said.

"Keep that up and you won't be sober for my set," Fai replied, pouting. "It'd be such a shame if you missed it. Me and my -" here he hesitated - "partner worked on it for so long."

Kurogane drew in a shaky breath and glanced up at the stage; the music had switched to a thudding English song he didn't recognize, the lyrics lost to him but the beat sufficient for the man currently up there, who was toying with one of the poles set at either end of the stage, leaning against it and gripping it in large hands.

"I'm better than him," Fai said, as if following his thoughts. "It's not nice to say mean things about the other dancers, but it's not mean, just accurate. I can work it," and he sounded very close indeed with those last two words and Kurogane looked back at him to see Fai had moved forward over the table, his eyes intent on Kurogane's.

"That's. Um. That's good," Kurogane said. This close he could smell Fai's cologne. The pulsing music seemed to beat in time with his heart, or maybe it was setting the beat for his heart. Fai pushed himself to his feet, leaning across the table, and put his mouth to Kurogane's ear.

"We're extra nice to new people," he said lightly. "Just remember, Kuro-gay. No touching."

"It's Kuro-gane!" Kurogane snarled, taking refuge in anger as always, and Fai laughed, a huff of hot air against his ear.

"It'll be my set in a few," he said sweetly. "I need to go freshen up. Will you at least watch us?"

"I hope you fall off that damn stage," Kurogane growled.

"That's a yes then! How sweet, you're such a grumbly puppy. Behave and I might even take you home with me."

Kurogane flushed at the unmistakable innuendo in the blond's voice and looked away, and Fai slid out of his chair. "Like I'd want to," he said.

"You will," Fai told him, no teasing or flirting in his voice. "After you see me dance, you will. I'll be on in three quarters of an hour and you can't stay here, Kuro-tan. Go hang out at the bar - but remember, don't get too drunk!"

"I'm not gonna tip you," Kurogane said pointedly.

"That's fine, we'll take it in sex," Fai replied cheerfully, and burst out laughing at the look Kurogane leveled him. "Hyuu~! So angry you are! See you from the stage, Kuro-chii!"

"My name is fucking Kurogane!" Kurogane hollered at Fai as the blond pushed opened the door, and Fai winked at him before letting it swing closed.

He took Fai's empty glass with him to the bar, and when Touya raised an eyebrow at him just slapped down a bill and demanded the best beer he had, 'cos he was gonna make it last.