Twenty Minutes

A Word: Modern AU with strippers because why not?

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Cullen doesn't know who found out when his birthday is, but when he finds out who had decided to share that information he's going to have to figure out how to pay them back. He's not sure what he'll do just yet, but he'll figure out something before the night is over. Something to really get back at his co-workers and friends deciding to celebrate by dragging him to a strip club.

The Hanged Man is not the kind of name one expects from a strip club, but it's become very clear the place isn't the average club within two minutes of stepping -or being dragged in Cullen's case- inside to realize that. It has all the markers of a cheap and trashy joint. Sticky floors, ear splitting techno beat, not enough light to really identify anything that gets passed over the bar to them.

Beyond that there's nothing else in line with the cheap image. There's a hat box for one thing. Situated right next to the door and manned by woman who'd smirked when they walked in and been far too handsy when selecting and forcing various hats and hat type things onto them. Cullen's left cheek still hurts from her pinching fingers as she gave him a headband with fluffy, orange cat ears. Both left cheeks.

The staff is overly friendly though. Too friendly to be paid minimum wage, and also far too good looking. Even the bouncer who looks ready to escort each and every single person inside out with or without their cooperation. A waitress glides through the crowded tables with ease while dancers take the prominent stage. Men and women with no pattern that Cullen's been able to figure out.

The music is loud and s physical force he can feel pounding at the base of his skull. Louder with each beer he can't refuse and each failed attempt by his friends to get him to go up to the stage.

"Could you look a little less like a virgin sacrifice?" Dorian says after readjusting his purple leather cowboy hat. The thing is too large for his head and the weight of the peacock feathers continue to drag it forward, but the man likes something about it because he hasn't tried taking it off yet. "You're tantalizing the natives, and as adorable as it is to see you flail under a deluge of flirtations this is your party. I have some investment in making sure you actually have a little fun tonight."

"And your first thought was strip club for that?" Cullen eyes the nearby tables warily and Dorian is right. All eyes aren't on him, but they do stray towards him often enough for him to know being hit on by a large number of people is a distinct possibility tonight. Evelyn says there's something about his panicked look that brings out the predator in people, and Cullen probably can't look more panicked now if he tried. "I'm beginning to think you really don't know me all that well, Dorian."

"My original plan was to take over someone's back yard. Barbeque, bonfire, pool, too many smelly dogs. But that was vetoed as too boring by everyone else," Dorian lifts his bottle in a wry toast when Cullen gives him a stricken look because that sounded like the perfect party. "The beach plan was also out because of too much sand and the possibility of sunburn. The park made Sera cackle in that way she does before we all get thrown in jail. There isn't a restaurant in fifty miles that will accept all of us under one ticket, and I was told to stop projecting my own desires when I suggested we all go to the library to read quietly. This is the tamest plan out of what was left. Believe me."

Cullen does, because when his friends and co-workers really put their minds to it they can come up with some truly outrageous plans. "I'm not even going to get a cake out of this am I?"

"Well, if you tough it out and try to at least look like you're not going to bolt out the back door I might be able to look into getting you some fine cheesecake," Dorian says with the sly smile that lets Cullen know he's not talking about the kind that he can eat with a fork. "You're here now. Might as well enjoy yourself to the full extent allowable by the club."

"Please don't," Cullen says and feels the certainty that it will happen settle over him the same way his headache has. Slowly and with an inescapable force that lets him know nothing he does will stop it.

Dorian gives him a guileless smile as he melts out of the seat and turns toward the stage where the majority of their friends are crowded around the stage. Catcalling and waving money at a slim elven woman with long black hair, and more clothing than should be possible for how debauched she looks. Cullen looks away from the stage as the chair beside him scrapes out loud enough to make him wince.

"Commander," Krem says the title with the same inflection as always. Flat fact with just enough amusement to let everyone know he's well aware of how irritating Cullen finds it. He pushes one of the fours open bottles he has towards him, and Cullen accepts it. "You look ready to pop smoke."

"Not my idea of a good time, Krem," Cullen mutters even though the man already knows that. When he was enlisted Krem and Bull had tried their damndest to get Cullen to go out drinking with the guys often enough to know that. Often enough to know it hadn't been a rank difference or the fact they were still technically mercenaries that kept Cullen away.

"Ah, come on. Good drink," Krem lifts one of the other bottles for a healthy swig that Cullen knows burns. The beer is cheap and tastes even cheaper here. Krem doesn't flinch though as he waves the bottle around in a half arc. "Pretty things to look at for all tastes. There's something here you have to be able to enjoy at least a little."

"I'm going to enjoy giving this headband back and walking outside where it's quiet," Cullen answers honestly. The plastic band is tight and isn't doing much to help his growing headache. He reaches up to push it back into the one spot he knows hurts the least. Taking it off, he's found, only gets him a lapful of the pinching woman who will take her time putting it back on him. All while cheerfully telling him what she'd like to do to him in her bed for being so difficult.

"Yeah, it's not really your scene," Krem shrugs off the honesty with a slight smile. Unoffended by it, and that's the main reason why Cullen had insisted on Bull's group being brought into the newly formed Inquisition last year. They had enough former military to not need to worry about security despite the Inquisition's main focus being on uncovering and bringing to light corruption among the highest ranks in all of Thedas. No, what the Inquisition had needed was people with the kind of level headedness that Krem needs to work under Bull. "But everyone else seems to be having a good time. Haven't seen smiles like that going around enough lately."

Cullen can hear Sera's laughter ringing out. Loud and clear without the edge of desperation she had denied even as they could all see it eating at her devil may care attitude. Evelyn's laugh rings out right along with Sera's. A sound that has been all too rare since Coryphe Venatori terrorists had been solidly linked to far too many governments. Leliana and Josephine appear to be a few drinks closer to climbing up on stage for their own show, and Bull looks ready to pour the rest of those drinks himself. He'd lost sight of both Cassandra and Blackwall within the first half hour.

"Heads up," Krem tugs the half empty bottle from his hand and replaces it with a full one. He's grinning slightly as he nods behind Cullen. "They've been pooling money for something special for you all night."

Maker, no. Cullen turns and Dorian is looking far too pleased as he walks back up to the table. "Dorian no."

"Dorian yes. Get up, you're getting a lap dance," Krem's snickering into his beer as Cullen gets hauled to his feet. "We had two choices but I'm feeling greedy so you only get one."

"That's not what a choice means," the beer does not go down easy, but he's grateful for that as it helps him with the automatic flush and flinch reaction. "Who are you inflicting me on?"

"Mr. Kitty," Dorian's lips curl up with spiteful glee as Cullen winces. Hand half raised to the irritating band on his head. "Your other choice was the Leather God, but he has spikes on him and I think you're going to hurt yourself enough with Mr. Kitty. No need to actually take out one of your eyes."

"Move it, move it!" Hands shove into his lower back from behind and Cullen jumps forward more out of instinct than any force. Evelyn steers him towards a dark and not very discreet hallway that ends in a red door. "Come on, Commander, just relax and let the man do his job. You'll have fun!"

The words are prosaic and Cullen wonders how many his boss has had since they got there. Bull was supposed to be keeping an eye on her, but he'd been rather more interested in the stage now that he thinks about it. "I want you to know that my letter of resignation will be on your desk tomorrow."

"Oh, good!" Evelyn leans around to open the door for him. The room is dim and small. With couches pushed up against three of the walls, and a single padded chair somewhat in the middle. "I haven't had one in a while. I'll put them with the rest."

There's no other way out Cullen finds after pacing the room once. Which seems like a fire hazard to him. He groans and rubs at the tight muscles at the back of his neck before sitting down. The chair is padded but it's by no means comfortable, and Cullen's very grateful for that when the door swings open again only seconds after he sits.

Mr. Kitty is attractive. That's been true for all of the dancers Cullen's seen so far. He walks with an unselfconscious grace that Cullen's not sure he could manage if his only clothing were a pair of boots, some scandalously tight briefs with a fake tail, a thin collar with a bell, and -Cullen looks, yes, they're there- black cat ears sticking out prominently from his long blonde hair. The man grins at him as the door clicks shut behind him. He walks forward to stand in front of Cullen, forcing him to look up the lean lines of his mostly naked body in a way that makes him very aware there's only one door.

"Nice ears," the man purrs and Cullen wants to go back out there and strangle his friends. Long fingers run through his hair before he can think about getting up and set the irritating band to rights. "You're friends have reserved twenty minutes of my time for you back here. The Hanged Man has a no touching rule, so you just keep those hands right where they are and we'll be fine. You got any special requests, handsome?

"Show me the emergency exit?" Cullen asks hopefully.

"Sorry, I was specifically instructed not to do that," Mr. Kitty says with a laugh as he fiddles with a small rectangular box Cullen had not noticed him holding. Music begins to play from speakers in the room. Just loud enough to cover the sounds leaking in through the closed door, but not nearly loud enough to make his head start to ache again. "Blame your friends, not me."

Mr. Kitty tosses the box at one of the couches and it bounces twice before sliding off the faux leather to clatter on the ground. Cullen jumps a little at the noise and then again as Mr. Kitty pours into his lap. Knees pressing against the outside of Cullen's thighs and feet hooking around his knees. Applying pressure to spread his legs enough to give the man a steady seat to settle on.

"Um," Cullen curls his hands around the arms of his chair. There's padding all the way around it and no hard edges to dig uncomfortably into his hands.

"Relax. Having a good looking guy sitting on you is supposed to be fun," Mr. Kitty says with a wry smile that offsets the cockiness of his statement. "Hey, I'll even promise not to bite! No matter how very biteable these arms are."

The no touching rule doesn't extend to employees. Mr. Kitty is careful to keep a bit of distance between them. As much as possible considering he's in Cullen's lap, but his hands roam freely. Cullen holds still as the other man somehow manages to make feeling his biceps into something almost obscene. It's the appreciative light in his brown eyes that does it, and makes Cullen clear his throat. Shifting a little guiltily under him.

"And even if I did," Mr. Kitty says, his grin growing and losing all the wryness as he moves. A fluid move of his body that's vaguely in time with the music. It's more than a bit distracting to watch. "I'm medically trained to take proper care of it afterwards."

"Ah," the medical student. Cullen wonders more than a bit cynically how many men still buy that clichéd excuse, and knows the answer is probably every single one of them since it's still being used. It doesn't make the lap dance any easier to sit through, but the chance of awkward conversation should be distraction enough to get him through it with at least some of his dignity intact. "So you're working until your loans are paid off?"

"Oh, no," the man's cat-like grin is bright and edged with pure sin as he settles his hands against his chest and looks Cullen straight in the eyes. Cullen's stomach sinks in reaction to the promise there, but it's not dread he feels. "I don't strip for the money, I do it because it's fun. Keep your hands on the chair now."

Cullen's been gripping the chair arms tightly since the beginning and isn't likely to let go anytime soon. "What-?"

The man drops somehow and there's no space between them at all anymore as the beat of the music becomes something more rhythmic and in line with the club outside the door. He grinds down on Cullen leaving him helpless to think of anything but the fact that he feels every bit as firm as he looks. Too firm, and Cullen's reacting to the erection pressing into his stomach. Getting harder as the man runs his hands over Cullen's shoulders with an honestly appreciative look. He moans filthy and low. Dragging an answering sound involuntarily from Cullen.

"Isabella's been telling me I need to get you in a corner all night," Mr. Kitty leans forward and Cullen's pressed back and down in the chair. Unable to move or do anything but feel it as he all but fucks Cullen. His hair tickles as it brushes against Cullen's face and he swears he can taste the man from the air passing between them. "You are exactly my type."

He knows his face is red. The kind of red that his friends love to provoke out of him with the most embarrassing things they can manage. He can feel it settling in over him as Mr. Kitty sways and arches over him with the music. The room is open and chilly, but Cullen feels like he's burning up with the other man's weight over him and on him. Words and light compliments echoing in his ears as Cullen tries to remember why he has to keep his hands to himself. Why he can't reach out and guide the man to the exact pace he needs him go at.

Cullen only knows the music's stopped because Mr. Kitty stills above him, and in the sudden silence the rushing of his own blood is only drowned out by the creak of the chair under his hands. Mr. Kitty pushes himself up and away and Cullen can't help the disappointed noise that leaves him then.

"Oops," the man says far too cheerfully as he makes a production out of climbing off Cullen. With far more touching and rubbing than it had taken him to get into his lap in the first place. A completely unfair bit of teasing that Cullen has to bite down any further reaction for. "Sorry, time's up and there's rules you know? Can't break them now can we?"

Cullen swallows and tries to look away from the very obvious and very large bulge that's eyelevel for him right now. He fails rather miserably.

"And you need to stop that before I change my mind and get fired," the man's voice is amused but wavers just a bit before Cullen's right arm is pulled up. Mr. Kitty's pulled a marker from somewhere. The scent is strong enough to make his eyes water but he holds still until the stripper caps it and gives him a wink. "Good thing I'm not always at work."

He has a phone number and name angled across the bend of his elbow when he looks down. The sight of Anders walking away with a sway is incentive enough for Cullen to save the number in his phone before readjusting his flagging hard on. He's already going to be facing the leers and knowing looks of his friends as it is. No need to add too much fuel to that fire.

He takes a few moments to breathe though before going for the door. And almost immediately wishes he'd not left.

"We have to go," Evelyn latches onto him the moment he's in the main bar area. The liner around one eye is smudged and her words slur slightly but she's steady as she starts pulling him towards the exit. "Dorian pissed off the Leather God somehow. We have to go before he gets killed and I have to fight Bull for the honor of not planning that funeral."

There's shouting coming from the corner table that Cullen can barely hear over the music. It looks like Bull and Krem are holding two struggling figures, but he's being pulled too far away to make out which is which. He doesn't bother trying to figure it out either. He'd rather not get banned from the Hanged Man just as he's found a reason to actually like it.

"Is that a phone number?" Sera's on him the second he's outside in the parking lot. She giggles as she wrenches his arm out for all to see. 'All' being herself, Evelyn, Leliana, and Cole whom Cullen had forgotten had climbed into one of the cars with them earlier. "You dog! Who knew our Cully-Wully had it in him? You're finally starting to act like a proper soldier now!"

They laugh then because Cullen has horrible friends. Horrible friends with bad ideas that somehow turn out good in the end. Cullen waits for the rest of the group to get thrown out and wonders how soon he can get away with calling.

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