Strip Night!, Let's get the boys together

[Eremir]

Merging threads "First New Arrivals", "Mutation Fixation", and "Checking In At The Front Desk".

[Eremir]

Logan stood nervously at the bar, looking over his shoulder, expecting to see a raging Will coming at him. He felt uneasy with this whole situation. It appeared he was stuck in this freaky bar, in this freaky town, on this freaky island, surrounded by freaks. Everywhere he looked were guys making out, guys dancing with each other, kissing, holding hands or sneaking off to the backrooms. This whole place was all about the sex. Yes, he had enjoyed his time with Nick, but he felt like an ass for doing so. Will trusted him. Didn’t he?

It didn’t take him long to notice the huge beast in the corner. Perfect. He could go over and talk to their new friends. That would give him something to do while waiting for the impending Will-explosion. There was no way Nick would be able to keep his mouth shut, so it was just as well he prepared himself for the inevitable clash. Fuck.

He strolled over to the table where Beau and Beast were sitting, but it appeared they already had company. Two other men were occupying the chairs in front. Disappointed, he was about to turn and leave again, but Beau saw him and shouted his name, waving for him to join them. So Logan did. He pulled up a chair from a close by table and seated himself next to Beast, gaining a clear view of two newcomers.

“Is pretty boy back stage?” Beau asked with a smirk.

“Yep. He’s hard at work, I’m sure.”

“Don’t look so sad,” Beast said, and placed a huge paw on Logan’s back. “He won’t be in there forever.”

“Oh yeah?” Logan said incredulously. “Somehow I’m not so sure.”

Beau was embarrassed by the sudden silence at their table, and took it upon himself to introduce the strangers to each other. Logan learned that their names were Thranduil and Éomer, which were probably the strangest names he had heard all day. He expected them to have freaky accents, but they didn’t. Which was even freakier.

“I am an elf,” Thranduil answered to Logan’s customary ‘What the hell are you?’-question. “I come from Mirkwood, in the heart of Middle Earth.”

“Good for you,” Logan said and took a swig of his drink. “I’m a mutant myself.”

“What does that mean?” Éomer asked. “Are you a mountain bushman?”

Logan snickered. “You could say that. No, I’m just an animal really. An animal with claws. Or so I’m told.”

Thranduil regarded the strange man across the table. There was something about him that seemed familiar. He shortly realized that the man had that certain air of immortality that Beau lacked. His eyes were ancient, and in a way it reminded him of Aragorn. His body was nowhere near as old as his soul. Perhaps this ‘Wolverine’ was a descendant of the Dúnedain. But he came from a different world, so it should be impossible. The king smiled to himself. If their worlds crossed here, merged on this godless island, perhaps it was not so impossible after all.

[buttonbright]

Eomer felt strangely exposed and vulnerable.

On the surface this made no sense. His tablemates were chatting sociably amongst themselves, paying little or no attention to him. But he knew what his problem was. He and Thranduil had been alone for hours, just the two of them and their sudden love. Now, for the first time, that love was being exposed to public scrutiny. And Eomer didn't like it.

Beau and Beast seemed benign enough. Indeed, they were far too wrapped up in each other to pose any threat, though Beau did ask too many questions. But this newcomer, this Logan, with his bushy sideburns and his smouldering eyes -- he was another matter entirely.

Thranduil seemed to agree. His steady, thoughtful gaze was bent on Logan. What was the elf thinking?

"So who's the pretty boy?" Eomer asked Logan. They all looked at him. Had he spoken too loud?

"That would be my supposed boyfriend," Logan said morosely.

Beau shot Beast a look. "Supposed?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know." Logan threw up his hands. "The little fucker is all I've got, and maybe I haven't even got HIM."

"Maybe you're just going through a bad patch," Eomer said helpfully.

"Right," rumbled Beast. "From what we saw at dinner, the kid is so crazy about you he doesn't know his ass from his elbow."

"There, you see!" Eomer felt obscurely vindicated, as if he'd won a small battle. "Ah, here's the waiter. Could we have a pitcher of ale, please?" And with that, he downed the rest of his drink in one gulp.

[Eremir]

Logan was starting to feel comfortable again, and worried less about Will’s possible appearance. Their party of five had downed two pitchers of beer and ordered in the next. Logan wasn’t reacting much to the alcohol, as always, but Beast proved to be quite the wimp in that department. The large ball of hair started giggling at everything they said, and Beau was having a ball about it.

“I really shouldn’t let him drink,” Beau snickered, “but he’s so funny when he’s drunk.”

Logan tried to hold the beast in an upright position, since he was nearly falling over the mutant, giggling like a child.

“Maybe we should just order coffee instead,” Logan suggested with a grin.

All the while Thranduil’s eyes never left the mutant. He was trying to figure out this strange man, but easily sensed Éomer’s discomfort with the elf’s newfound interest. The king leaned in close to his lover and spoke softly in his ear.

“This man intrigues me, I cannot deny that, but I have no interest in him. You do realize the difference, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Éomer smiled. “Do not worry yourself, my lord. I am not jealous.”

“My lord?!” Beau exclaimed. “Fancy title, eh?”

Thranduil felt a blush coming on, as all eyes turned to him, and he felt like a yearling colt being evaluated for sale. He did not wish to mention his regal inheritance, not here, not now. It was different when talking to waiters and servants -- they needed to know their place -- but these people were possible friends, and he suddenly felt quite ashamed should he flaunt his royalty. He smiled awkwardly.

“It’s just an endearment,” he assured them, but carefully avoided eye contact. Gods, he was a terrible liar!

“Riiiight....” Beau said, raising his eyebrow at Logan, who snickered.

The elf felt like total idiot.

[buttonbright]

Nick beamed.

"You know him? Well, that's an amazing coincidence, because I'm definitely hoping to book him for an encore performance. Maybe you can help me out. What's his name?"

"Logan," said Will. He was trying to sound dangerous, but his voice wobbled treacherously. "And he happens to be my boyfriend!"

Nick shrugged. "Boyfriend, schmoyfriend. Everybody's got somebody around here, but that doesn't stop them from playing the field. Take your two friends here, for example. Always together, always the perfect couple, kissing and making out where the whole world can see them. But I've had them both, and not just once, either."

"Yes, and we always had the good sense to come right home and take a shower afterward," said Joaquin. "Cut the crap, Nicky. This is no time to be stirring up trouble."

"Who's stirring up trouble?" Nick asked innocently. "Judging from the smell in here, there's been plenty of trouble already. Trouble of the horizontal variety. Say, new kid, what do you suppose your 'boyfriend' would say if he knew you'd been fooling around behind his back?"

Will blushed. He'd been asking himself that exact question and he didn't know the answer. He got up, seething, and went to the back of the racks. When he came back he brought an angel costume complete with wings, harp and halo.

"Here!" he said, and thrust them at Nick.

"Awww," said Nick. "Aren't you going to help me put it on? After all, new kid -- that's your job."

[Eremir]

Logan was beginning to worry again. Every minute that passed brought them closer to Strip Night, and for some reason the mutant sensed that it would bring disaster. There was just too many things that could go wrong. Nick was the first factor. No doubt he would have told Will everything by now, regardless if Logan had begged him not to. What was going on backstage?

The third pitcher of beer was gone, and Beast was all but falling out of his seat with laughter. Apparently it was Éomer's hair that had him going this time. There wasn't really anything funny about the man's hair, but to the drunken beast it must look incredibly hilarious. The poor guy didn't know what to think, and the elf tried to hide his amused smile from his companion.

But Logan wasn't amused. A knotted feeling in his stomach told him that there was trouble ahead, and that he should leave this place before it got him. But he couldn't leave Will. He had promised not to. Unless....

"Excuse me guys, but I'm gonna take a walk, all right?" he told the others. They gave him a nod in acknowledgement, but barely noticed him leave.

The front of the bar was busy with new people constantly flowing through the doors. It was too crowded. Logan wanted out. Looking to the back of the bar he wondered if there was another exit somewhere. In a second of luck he managed to catch Felix carrying some dishes to the kitchen. Grabbing the boy's arm, he asked for his attention.

"Hey, cat-boy?" Felix looked up at him questioningly. "Look, I would kill for a cigar right now." He stared sharply at the bartender, and to his surprise Felix winked at him.

"Follow me." The boy took him through the kitchen to a backdoor, and pulled out a hidden box from behind a cupboard. "You did not get this from me," he said, and handed Logan a long, fine brand cigar.

Logan thanked him and exited the door. Outside among the garbage bins he lit the cigar and drew in the calming smoke. He didn't know why it calmed him, because it had just as little effect on him as the alcohol did, but somehow it help ease his nerves. Besides, it gave him something to do with himself. It was then that a noise caught his attention. Distant voices. Following his acute hearing he pinpointed the sound to an air-vent in the wall. But whose were the voices? It didn't take him long to make out Nick.

"Awww. Aren't you going to help me put it on? After all, new kid -- that's your job."

[buttonbright]

"Nick, don't play this game," Vincenzo said seriously.

Nick gave him a wide-eyed stare. "What game?" he inquired. "I just want to get ready for the show. Is that so wrong?"

"Yes, it's wrong!" Vincenzo replied. "If people get hurt along the way."

"Oh, now you're worried about hurting people!" laughed Nick. "After you diddled little Will behind his boyfriend's back!"

"That's enough, Nicky," interrupted Joaquin. "Tell you what -- I'll get you into your costume. Then you can go on first, like you always want to."

"No!" Will roused himself with a shake of his head. They all looked at him. "I mean, thanks, Joaquin. But Nick's right. It's my job and I'm damn well going to do it. Even if it kills me."

"Good for you!" grinned Nick. And he immediately began to strip.

"Will," said Joaquin. "You don't have to do this. It's not some kind of test you have to pass. Anyway, Nick's perfectly capably of dressing himself. He's not even a guest! Besides, we all know he's just trying to get you riled up."

"I can see that," said Will, removing the wing harness from the hanger. "But I said I'm going to do my job and I meant it. That's all I care about right now."

Of course this wasn't true. But Logan was nowhere in sight, and the thought of what the mutant had done with Nick -- and what Will himself had done with Joaquin and Vincenzo -- was a torment to the boy. He could only put it out of his mind one way, and that was by doing his job.

[Eremir]

Logan wasn't sure what to make of it all, since he had no idea what they had been talking about before he got there, but one thing was clear. Those two guys in there had fucked Will. Now, that's a nice touch. First, the little slut has a hissy-fit when Logan tries to touch him, and then ignores him the whole evening. But he was quite happy to fuck someone else apparently. Logan wouldn't never even have gone near Nick if Will had been available. Fuck!

Wolverine leaned back against the wall, angrily puffing away at his cigar. He had very much heard Will's last words. The job is all he cares about. Brilliant. Just brilliant. Logan felt a boiling anger rise inside him, and before he could stop himself a large hole appeared in the brick wall. Razor sharp claws made dust out of stone, until the act no longer numbed the anger. Growling to himself, the mutant stomped off down the alley.

He could not believe this. They were just getting back together, they were both horny as hell, and Will pushed him away only to leap into the arms of someone else. Yes, Logan had told him he could fuck other people, but not like this. Logan at least wanted to be part of the relationship, otherwise they might as well call it quits right now. Will obviously didn't care about him. All he cared about was the job.

Logan walked around town for a few minutes, clearing his head and calming his nerves. Everywhere guys were walking hand in hand, or standing arms around each other, smiling. Suddenly Logan felt like going home. At least back at the mansion he knew everyone disliked him. They didn't tell him they loved him and then ignore him for the rest of the time. Fuck this. He never should have gotten back together with Will. That much was clear.

Idle fingers searched for something to do, and that's when he realized he had dropped his cigar.

"Shit."

But he didn't want to go back, so he kept walking.

[buttonbright]

What a relief when that guy with the whiskers left, with his smouldering eyes and his air of brooding menace! He reminded Eomer of an orc -- if orcs could be devastatingly sexy.

Eomer didn't trust him. And he knew how unreasonable this was. The man had shown no interest whatsoever in his tablemates, up to and including Thranduil himself. Indeed, if his behavior could be faulted at all, it was because he so obviously didn't care about any of them. No, it was Thranduil who seemed fixated on him, to the point of watching his receding figure as it made its way out of the room.

Eomer had one thing to be grateful for: he held his liquor better than Beast did. Between the two of them they had polished off most of the ale (Beau and Thranduil both lagged far behind), and Beast was a different creature -- giggling, making silly jokes, and now toying tipsily with Eomer's hair. But Eomer felt exceptionally clear-headed, more so even than usual. And this was good, because he wanted to get to the bottom of the elf's strange fascination.

He also needed to go to the bathroom.

"I think I should excuzhe myself," he said. His voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.

"I'm not surprised," said Thranduil, smiling as he slipped up out of his seat. "Here, let me help you."

The floor tilted alarmingly under Eomer's feet. The elf caught him as he reeled.

"Don't you feel well?" Eomer asked, looking up at Thranduil's calm, beautiful face.

"Perhaps not," Thranduil replied diplomatically. "Come to think of it, I also should excuse myself. We'll go together, shall we? Arm in arm." Carefully propping up the wobbly horseman, he steered toward the bathroom.

[Eremir]

Thranduil was having fun. The mortal was a lot more inebriated than he probably thought. The elf couldn't help laughing as he tried to steer them through the crowd. Halfway to the bathroom he had to stop and prop Éomer into an upright position, since he had nearly slid out of his grip.

"You are quite drunk, I think," Thranduil laughed.

"Am not! I only had...." The mortal counted on his fingers, in no order whatsoever. "...this many pints of ale. I can handle more than....this many!"

"And how many is that?" the king smiled patiently.

"Ehm..." Éomer looked at his fingers. "I don't know."

"I think the ale on this island is a different kind from the one you're used to back home, my friend."

"It was good ale."

"Yes it was."

Thranduil grinned affectionately at the man. Èomer had drunk far more than he should, but the elf suspected there was a reason. The mortal was still insecure in his presence it would seem. The king laid an arm around the horseman's head, petting his ruffled hair. The deep brown eyes were slightly unfocused, like a child that had just awoken from a good dream, and it struck a nerve in the elf's heart. He pulled him in for a kiss, even though the confused mortal could not respond very well. It was a short, soft kiss, but as far as Thranduil was concerned, it was the best he had had all day.

"Come along. Let's find the bathroom."

The man clung to him as they continued through the bar, and the king kept one arm steadily wrapped around the broad shoulders. When they got to the back of the room, Thranduil was surprised to find not one door, but three. A sign with one man, a sign with two men, and a sign with a rooster. What did that mean?

"Well," he said out loud. "There are two of us. Does that mean we should go through this door?"

[buttonbright]

"Two of ush," said Eomer. "Two. To pee. Two to pee." He giggled at his own foolishness and leaned toward the second door -- the one marked with two male figures. Not knowing what else to do, Thranduil walked him through it.

On the other side was an elegant hallway lined with doors. Toilet stalls, perhaps? If so, they were awfully large ones. This was Mandalay Island, though, and things were done differently here. Red lights winked over some of the doors, green ones over the others. This meant nothing to the elf and the horseman.

"Red," said Eomer. "Emergenshy?"

"That's as good a guess as any," laughed Thranduil. "Let's try this one."

He opened one of the red-lit doors. Peering inside, they caught a brief glimpse of bare, oiled bodies glistening as they writhed in the dim light. Not a toilet in sight. Eomer surged forward, but Thranduil heaved him back.

"I think not," said the elf. "Sorry, gentlemen." Apologies weren't really necessary, for the room's occupants had been too busy to observe the intrusion. Thranduil closed the door, then rolled his eyes. "Silly of me," he said. "I forgot to notice where the toilet was. Well, we'll try one of the green lights."

"Those men looked nice," said Eomer as he sloshed alongside his king. "We should have shtayed to talk."

"Another time," said Thranduil. "Here we go." He opened a green-lit door and stuck his head in. "Nobody home," he reported, looking back at his heavy-lidded friend. Then he took a second look. "No toilet, either," he added. "Unless there's one through that second door. Come on, now. Just a few more shteps. I mean steps."

Success! A moment later, Thranduil was holding Eomer's right hand steady as he unleashed the longest pee of his life.

[Eremir]

Thranduil was quite happy to help Éomer do his business, for it was obvious he couldn't do it himself. The elf stood behind him, steadying the swaying man. There seemed to be an endless supply of ale inside the mortal, for it ran through him like nothing the elf had ever seen. The horseman must indeed have the bladder of a horse.

"This is a pretty room," Éomer said, leaning back against the elf.

"Hey! Aim for the bowl. See that round white thing there? Aim for that."

"Mmmm."

The man was as easy to move as a pile of potatoes. He all but collapsed in the king's arms as soon as he was done. Thranduil tried to get him to sit on the floor, and propped him up against a wall.

"Éomer? Éomer?" Thranduil shook him gently to get his attention, but the man just groaned.

"I don't feel so good...."

"I can see that."

The man was a bit pale, and the elf grew concerned. He hadn't realized how much the mortal had really drunk. He tried calculating it in his head, and from the three large pitchers they had ordered, Éomer and Beast had the largest share. Smart. Trying to out-drink a behemoth more than three times his size. What was he trying to prove? Perhaps nothing.

Thranduil looked into the room they had crossed to get here, and yes, there was indeed a bed in it. A strange one, but still a bed. Thranduil carefully lifted the mortal off the floor and carried him to it. He placed Éomer on his side in the soft mattress, and the man moaned heavily. The king propped himself on one elbow behind the man, soothingly stroking his long hair.

"Rest for a while," he said softly. "You will feel better soon."

[buttonbright]

Eomer wasn't feeling better. In fact, he was feeling worse and worse every minute.

"Shtay here," he said to Thranduil, and lurched up off the bed. A headlong rush got him into the bathroom just in time. After everything that had come out of him a moment ago, he wouldn't have thought he could barf so hugely or repeatedly. But huge and repeated it was.

When he was done and had flushed twice, he knelt for a minute or two with his arms around the cool porcelain bowl. His brain began to wake up a bit -- enough to realize that he'd embarassed himself in front of the one person whose opinion he cared about more than anyone else's. Why on earth had he drunk so much? What exactly had he hoped to accomplish? Then it came back to him. He'd wanted to relax. He'd wanted to get himself in a fuckable frame of mind so he'd have the courage, finally, to spread his legs and let the King . . .

But who would want to fuck him now, in this state?

Thranduil was standing behind him, silent and patient. Eomer could feel the concern that flowed toward him. He stood up unsteadily and opened the mirrored cabinet. Inside he found what he wanted: a little green bottle that promised fresh breath. Thank God these Island people knew how to stock their shelves!

At last, shamefaced, he turned around -- and immediately fell into Thranduil's arms, sobbing.

[Eremir]

Thranduil calmly held the mortal to his chest, stroking the long hair and crooning silently. There was a slight shiver in the man's form, as he clamped his arms tightly around the elf.

"Shhh..." Thranduil crooned. "It's all right. Don't you feel better now?"

"Yes..." said a muffled voice.

"See? I told you. Now, let's get you back on the bed."

The horseman followed him limply into the other room, and they laid down. Éomer instantly snuggled up to the king, refusing to make any sort of eye contact. It was clear he was ashamed. Thranduil felt bad for him. He knew Éomer had never meant for this to happen. The elf kissed the dishevelled head of hair in front of him and sighed.

"Why did you drink so much, my freind? You're not still nervous around me are you? I thought that we were closer than that now, after what we...what we did on the beach. Are we not?"

The mortal didn't answer, but muffled a sob against Thranduil's chest.

"I didn't mean to," Éomer finally whispered.

"It's all right, meldir. I'm not angry with you."

To make sure the man knew that he was serious, Thranduil brushed the hair from Éomer's face and kissed his brow. He was slightly cold to the touch, but the elf had some ideas for warming him up later. Inching down on the bed, the king tried to get them at eye level, so they could at least look at each other when they talked. Gently cupping the man's face, Thranduil looked at him intently.

"Is there anything you want to tell me, my love?"

[buttonbright]

Putting Nick into any of the costumes would have been an ordeal. Putting him into the angel costume beggared description.

In many of its details, the costume was less than angelic. There was the gold lame jockstrap, for starters. Nick's ass looked so stunning in it that Will couldn't help wondering what, if anything, Logan had done to those tender white cheeks. And the wing harness was a maze of leather straps that both concealed and revealed the pale flesh of Nick's torso. Nick and Will spent a long time adjusting it so that the nipples peeked through just so. The wings themselves were not terribly large, but their golden feathers dazzled. Over it all went a deceptively chaste white tunic tied with a golden belt.

"Give it up, Nicky," said Joaquin, watching with an expression of utter disgust. "No one's going to be fooled."

"By what?"

"The angel get-up. Believe me, we've all read those filthy messages on the bathroom walls."

"I should hope so," Nick told him calmly. "I wrote them myself. It took hours."

"Why am I not surprised?" growled Vincenzo. "For God's sake, Will, tell the little twit to take a hike. He can put on his own damned halo."

But Will was compelled to finish the job himself. When it was done and the halo's little battery-powered light had been tested, he felt himself released, temporarily, from the compulsive sense of duty that dogged him so relentlessly now.

"Excuse me," he said to the others. "I just want to see if I can find my boyfriend." And he darted out into the bar.