FOOLS IN THE NIGHT.

DYING FOR A GOOD TIME,

I'M A WHOLE LOT WORSE FOR WEAR AND I'M DETERMINED TO SLIP THIS SKIN I KNOW YOU'RE DYING FOR A GOOD TIME AND I'M DYING TO BREATHE AGAIN WE COULD RUN ALL NIGHT AND DANCE UPON THE ARCHITECTURE COME AND TAKE MY HAND I'LL GIVE THE VERY BEST I CAN BUT BOY I STILL WANNA BE YOUR MAN - - - - - - TAG | CYRUS SAMUEL PAISLEY WORDS | 942 NOTES | OHAI CYMINIC

Dom had always had more female friends than male ones. He wasn’t sure why… Ha, no actually, he was pretty sure why. Other men tended to perceive his flamboyance and generally flirtatious nature as some kind of threat to their masculinity, whereas women just thought he was funny and / or adorable. To groups of women, he was a novelty. A strange pint-sized camp little man-child who could gossip like one of the girls and certainly wasn’t shy about sharing his opinion on any hot guy in the vicinity. The “gay best friend”. There was a time Dom would have taken offense to this stereotype because a) he was not even all gay, and b) what a condescending view to take on homosexuality, but he’d started to not care so much anymore. Being treated as some sort of token minority pet was marginally better than being treated with violence, and society in general seemed determined to classify him as gay whatever he himself identified as, so… what was the point in fighting it? He supposed he was learning to pick his battles. He supposed that was a part of growing up, which he felt he’d done quite a lot of as of late. But anyway, that was a whole other issue. Right now, Dom was fulfilling his duties as the pet gay to his group of recently acquired gal pals. Since moving to Pearl River, he’d somehow managed to fall in with a gossipy little clique. He wasn’t complaining. Small towns were full of cliques, and his seemed quite harmless. They were fun. A group of pretty chilled out girls a little older than him, most of them college grads and young professionals who commuted into the city, just doing their thing. He liked them a lot, and he was thankful to his neighbour for bringing him along to her book club meeting and setting the whole friend group thing in motion. Book clubs, small towns, hyper-feminine cliques… what a strange life Dom lead since leaving the army, but again… he was not complaining. They were sweet, and it was much better than not knowing anyone or never leaving the house. And tonight they were celebrating, which was always fun. One of the girls who admittedly he didn’t know that well – he thought her name was Kim? Or maybe Keira, Kelly, Kara, something? It started with a ‘kuh’ sound – was getting married… at some point. He thought it was this coming weekend. He wouldn’t know. He wasn’t invited to the actual wedding (fair, considering he didn’t even know the bride’s name), but he had been invited to the bachelorette party. Of course he had. Dom was, after all, just one of the girls. It had been a pretty standard bachelorette party – this was not Dom’s first rodeo, so it wasn’t as though he had nothing to compare it too. They’d rented a suite in a hotel in the city. There’d been strippers, an open bar, and Dom had personally witnessed two drunk girls drawing lipstick dicks on their passed out friend. He’d spent the first half of the evening dancing with his neighbour and some of the book club girls. Then he’d gotten a bit too drunk to be dancing or even trying to dance and he’d had to stop and take to wandering around the room and making overly loud conversation with people instead. This was how he ended up on the outskirts of a bitchy little cluster who were currently gossiping about someone called Jenny. Dom didn’t know Jenny, but it quickly emerged that she was a hot mess right now because she’d just got dumped and who wants to be the maid of honour at a wedding when you’ve just been dumped and someone should go and stop her making a fool of herself. After listening for a while and then nodding very intently as if he knew what was going on whenever someone looked his way, he surmised that Jenny was the lopsided overemotional-looking girl who’d managed to back one of the strippers into a corner and was currently hanging all over him. Dom grimaced in sympathy, but for poor Jenny or the poor stripper, he wasn’t entirely sure. After listening to the Jenny gossip a little longer and finding out even more grisly details about her recent break up, he decided to go and liberate her. She should not be hitting on anyone right now. Poor baby. He split off from the bitchy cluster, stopped by the open bar to grab a bottle of water and then sidled his way over to the poor girl and her prey. She was even more of a mess close up, make up smeared across her cheek and hair sticking up in weird directions. She seemed to have lost one of her shoes. It was tragic. “Jenny, honey.” He looped his arm through her elbow to get her attention, then pressed the bottle of water into her hand. “I think you need to hydrate. Maybe get some air, okay?” She looked at him uncomprehendingly, before nodding vaguely, murmuring something incomprehensible and slipping away again. Dom watched her stumble away with a vaguely concerned frown pulling at his brow, then turned his attention briefly to the stripper who… upon closer inspection was actually pretty cute. Huh. Maybe he should pay him a little more attention. “I have it on good authority she’s a hot mess right now. You’re better off not going there.” He informed him, leaning in and shouting over the music to be heard. “I’m Dom, the token gay. You’re a stripper?” Hm, okay. Not his smoothest opening line, but he was quite drunk and the guy was probably straight anyway, so what did it matter?

lost in the cracks,

of a landslide. you saw me slipping on my blindside. i'm feeling lost, feeling tongue-tied and now i'm frozen in your headlights-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drinking on the job was never a smart idea. In fact, Cryus was pretty sure there was some sort of rule in his contract that strictly stated that there was to be no drinking at all, but oh well. He tended to break this rule almost every time he was invited to work at private parties because he had no managers around to supervise him and potentially fire him because of his rule breaking. None of these women really seemed to mind too much though. With the way they were acting, Cyrus felt like it was safe to conclude that a good handful of them actually wanted to get him a little tipsy in hopes of taking advantage of him. Which, truth be told, has been known to happen every once in a while once he had one too many jello shots in his system... but it was all in good fun. He wasn't the kind of person who ever really felt any regret the morning after because the night before was just a good time and he and his lady friend for the night usually left things on good terms. Tonight he'd gone into this party with every intention of being good. He told himself that he wasn't going to drink or get too involved with the party shenanigans, but that dream quickly went out the window when the first round of jello shots came out and four or five of the women demanded he have one with her. Then, before he knew it, the room around him started spinning a little bit and he felt like he was capable of anything.  For a while, everything was going well. He, the other strippers, and all the participants at the party were just living on cloud nine. The music was thumping and drinks still flowing. Everyone was having a good time until suddenly an extremely drunk young woman found her way over to his lap. He'd only been seated a moment. Allowing himself a second to catch his breath and drink a water bottle so that he could hydrate himself and sober up a little bit. Then, before he knew it, there she was. She slurred something at him, maybe a name, but he couldn't quite catch it. Regardless, Cryus flashed her a toothy smile and loosely wrapped his arm around her waist so his hand was pressed gently against the small of her back. This was more so she didn't slide off his lap and fall to the floor than it was an excuse for him to touch her. He was always a little more concerned for a woman's safety than he was with what was between her legs. "Hello, lovely. You having a good time?" Had Cyrus known all the ramblings that this one question would lead up to, he probably would have kept quiet and just let her sit on his lap until she got bored or fell asleep. But he hadn't known and he had asked the question and suddenly she was telling him her entire life story. Not that he could fully understand what she was even saying, but still. He wasn't exactly interested in the tale, but he feigned it for the sake of her feelings, smiling and nodded and patting her back whenever she looked like she might be on the verge of tears. For a long while it felt like he wouldn't ever find an escape from this situation, but some fine young fellow eventually came to his rescue. Once the woman was pulled from his lap and he had room to stand again, Cyrus managed to pull himself back to his feet. Though sitting was definitely more comfortable, he didn't want to risk having another damsel in distress taking a leap for his lap. However, the man in front of him seemed to have decided to stick around for a little while to make conversation. "I wasn't trying to go anywhere. She just had a very interesting story that she needed to share with someone. I was the lucky listener." His own speech was a little slurred, but the water had helped to clear his head. He smiled charmingly at his new company, deciding offhandedly that he had nice hair and a pretty smile. When he leaned in, Cyrus reached around his waist to put his hand on the small of his back out of habit. He wasn't sure if this would offend Dom or not, but he hadn't really put much thought into the action before he did it. "Great to meet you, Dom the Token Gay. I'm Cyrus, the tattooed stripper." Still grinning, he let his hand fall away and leaned back a little so he could see Dom's face more completely. "Did ya want a drink? Or a dance?" Usually his clients were of the female variety, but the thought of giving one to a guy wasn't all that jarring to him.

TAG: DOMINIC CALEB WILDER OUTFIT: CLICK WORDS: WORDS NOTES: BBS!

DYING FOR A GOOD TIME,

I'M A WHOLE LOT WORSE FOR WEAR AND I'M DETERMINED TO SLIP THIS SKIN I KNOW YOU'RE DYING FOR A GOOD TIME AND I'M DYING TO BREATHE AGAIN WE COULD RUN ALL NIGHT AND DANCE UPON THE ARCHITECTURE COME AND TAKE MY HAND I'LL GIVE THE VERY BEST I CAN BUT BOY I STILL WANNA BE YOUR MAN - - - - - - TAG | CYRUS SAMUEL PAISLEY WORDS | 903 NOTES | this is actually awful omg

Dom watched the drunk girl totter off, wringing the water bottle bemusedly between her hands. She was enveloped in a small cluster of girls shortly thereafter, and he breathed an internal sigh of relief. He felt pretty protective of these girls, although he wasn’t sure why. Possibly because he was one of the few guys here aside from the strippers, so it was his masculine duty to make sure they were okay. Or maybe it was because he’d had enough experience dealing with shitty boyfriends and the kind of drunk assholes that like to take advantage of people at parties, so he empathised. He didn’t know. He just knew that he didn’t like the idea of poor distraught Jenny over there trying to consent to something she was way too drunk to know if she wanted or not. There was nothing wrong with attempting to solicit casual sex from strippers, as long as everyone involved was sober enough to know what the fuck they were doing. Which she was clearly not. “I wasn’t trying to go anywhere. She just had a very interesting story that she needed to share with someone. I was the lucky listener.” The stripper slurred, and Dom raised his eyebrows with vague amusement and also… vague suspicion, maybe. He didn’t know this guy from Adam, so he could well be one of those aforementioned drunk assholes who saw drunk idiots like that girl with a target on their backs. He didn’t know. He also didn’t know when he’d started to doubt the intentions of people around him. What was that about? When did he get so cynical? God. Wasn’t he supposed to be the perpetual optimist, the crusader for the belief that there was good in everyone? His brain felt like an entirely different brain sometimes since he’d got out of the army and everything he’d seen and done had begun to catch up with him. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore. He attempted to shrug off his cynicism and forget about the bitter taste in the back of his mouth, and instead replied cheerfully, “I bet she did. Truly, you’re blessed.” Tattooed dude of questionable intentions took the opportunity of Dom leaning in to snake his arm around him, placing a hand at the small of his back. Oh, okay then. Dom promptly forgot all traces of his admittedly shaky suspicions and decided to quite like this guy. He was up for random vaguely homoerotic touching. That was his favourite kind of random touching. He briefly placed his own hand on the guy’s upper arm, a steadying kind of gesture while they were leaning in and exchanging names and all, and Jesus he had a nice arm. That was a quality arm right there. Yep, he could be into this. “Great to meet you, Dom the Token Gay. I’m Cyrus, the tattooed stripper.” He replied and, regrettably, let his hand fall away while he leant back a little. Damnit. Dom dropped his hand too, though he could have gone on feeling that arm for a little while longer if he’d had the opportunity. “Cyrus the Tattooed Stripper. Okay.” He repeated, to cement it in his head. He was drunk and it was hard to remember names when you were drunk. He thought Cyrus was a good one, though. He liked it. It was vaguely exotic sounding, like he was some Persian king of grand proportions, or a Greek warrior or something. There was nothing about him that really looked Persian or Greek or anything, but the name was pretty epic and bought about all these fun connotations. God, Dom was drunk. What was his brain even doing right now? “I like it. It suits you.” The name, the tattoos, the stripping. All of the above. “Did ya want a drink? Or a dance?” He offered, and Dom made a noncommittal ‘hm’ noise while he pretended to think about it. He glanced down at the drink in his hand to see how far he’d gotten into it and then discovered, to his mild surprise, that he no longer had a drink in his hand. He could have sworn he’d had one a little while ago. And he definitely couldn’t remember putting it down or finishing it. Huh. Must have been magic. “Well, I seem to be without a drink right now, so I could go for one of those.” He paused briefly, grinned in a mildly flirtatious manner, and added, “Ask me again about the dance later.” He didn’t know if he’d drunk so much that he’d made himself defective, but Dom was having trouble with his gaydar right at this moment. He could usually tell almost right away. Especially with guys. Girls could be trickier though not necessarily impossible, but guys… he could spot the homo in them a mile away. Usually. Cyrus the Tattooed Stripper was eluding him. It was hard to tell if he was being professional and charming, drunk and overly friendly or a little bit not-straight. What a dilemma. Dom was struck by the blunt desire to just be upfront about it and ask, but decided against it. Maybe he didn’t want to know either way. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe it didn’t matter. Whatever. Labels were arbitrary. The guy was hot and touchy-feely and offering him drinks and dances, so that was quite queer enough for Dom to be getting on with.

lost in the cracks,

of a landslide. you saw me slipping on my blindside. i'm feeling lost, feeling tongue-tied and now i'm frozen in your headlights-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cyrus could understand Dom's initial suspicion of his intentions. Strippers were notorious for being no good. According to most people, they were most likely diseased and dimwitted with only bad intentions floating around inside their heads. Truthfully, he knew that could be the case in some instances, but it wasn't for all of them. Some people were genuinely good people, but taking their clothes off for a living was the only way they could get by. Cyrus was fairly certain that he could probably be doing more with his life if he really wanted to. He had a decent head on his shoulders and a likable enough personality that would allow him to get on with most employers. However, his high energy levels wouldn't really fit within the confines of some office cubicle. He tried his hand at it before and literally could not take it. Then he somehow ended up in the exotic dancing business and fit in almost perfectly. Of course he was a little more on the quiet side and it took him a little longer to warm up to the people around him, but he was still charming enough with a nice body and sweet personality that a good deal of women seemed to enjoy. People claimed that girls loved a bad boy, which was true, but when they were drunk, a lot of them wanted someone sweet and kind to cuddle them. He was the perfect candidate for drunk cuddles most of the time, but usually it didn't go any further than that. Only on occasion did he ever take it any further than that and on those occasions he happened to be incredibly drunk. "Indeed I am. I'm always up for a good story." He smiled charmingly at his new friend and nodded his head a little. Stories were always fun. Perhaps he would get the chance to hear one from this handsome stranger. As the seconds ticked by, the two of them seemed to be getting more comfortable with one another. Or... at least Dom's guards went down a little after Cyrus leaned in to place a hand on his back. Well, that was a good sign. Determining sexuality wasn't really his strong suit so sometimes he made the mistake of insulting heavily heterosexual males without meaning to because he was a very touchy person. Not in a jarring or offensive kind of way, but still. A lot of men didn't like to be touched by other men they weren't familiar with. Dom reacted enthusiastically though, and even went so far as to grab a light hold on his arm. He wasn't bothered by it. In fact, maybe he even enjoyed the strong warmth of the stranger's hand on his bicep. It was nice. Being touched was nice. "Does it? I'm glad you approve of it. I thought it was a pretty decent name too." His smile brightened some just as he pulled away.  "Sure! Let's go find you a drink." Cyrus' hand soon found its spot on the small of his back again as he attempted to guide his new company towards the general direction of the bar. Honestly, he still hadn't memorized the entire layout of this hotel room, but he imagined that they would find the drinks sooner or later. It couldn't take them that long. "I'll ask again later, but if you want it sooner, just let me know." Grinning, Cyrus gave a playful tap to Dom's bum. He wasn't sure if this would be crossing some kind of line, but it was too late to take it back now. He was drunk and energetic and handsy. Apparently to the point where he disregarded the gender of the person he was flirting with. Hopefully Dom didn't mind too much. He didn't want to upset anyone. He just wanted to have a good time. "Ah! Here we are!" Finally they reached the bar and Cyrus quickly slid behind it. He threw a rag over his shoulder and pressed his hands against the counter top, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Dom. "And what can I get for you, sir?" Preparing drinks wasn't his specialty, but he was pretty sure he could do well enough. Maybe. So long as Dom didn't want some crazy fruity cocktail he'd never heard of before.

TAG: DOMINIC CALEB WILDER OUTFIT: CLICK WORDS: WORDS NOTES: lol this was worse