Once in a Lifetime ➳ Larry

chapter one

[Warnings: drug usage, smut (top!Louis & bottom!Harry), profanity, gory scenes, BDSM elements, homophobia, and prostitution.]

Chapter One

Through fluttering eyelashes, Harry sees an ocean of gold. Golden thongs cling to fit, muscly bodies as they twirl around golden poles. In such a dirty, grungy place, the glitter and glam distract customers from the club's flaws. The dim lighting does a nice job of hiding the peeling wallpaper and cracked floors. The air smells like sweat and smoke, but Harry doesn't mind. He's used to it by now.

His mind feels numb. As he grabs his crotch and grinds against the nearest pole, he feels no emotions. Not arousal, not guilt, not disgust, not anything. He stopped caring years ago. His brain seems to go on autopilot as he continues his routine, the spotlight burning his eyes.

A large hand reaches out to grope Harry's arse before slipping some money into his waistband. Harry forces out a smirk and wraps one leg around the pole, sinking down slowly, teeth biting into his bottom lip. The greasy pole sticks to his palms.

Harry flips his hair as he cranes his neck, oiled torso rolling against the pole. Across the room, complete strangers gawk at him, eyeing him like some sort of zoo animal. His wild green eyes scan the crowd, licking his lips slowly.

The golden light feels hot against his skin. The glitter that coats his body glimmers as he spins around the pole. He extends one arm as he slides across the stage, dipping his head down, his long hair falling in loose curls. He feels a few more hands slap his bum as the song ends. He lets out a sigh of relief.

He smiles weakly and drops down to snatch up a few notes that lay on the stage's edge. He tucks them messily in his thong, crinkling the bills in the process. The spotlight dims and he walks down the steps, eyes squinting through the sudden darkness.

"Good work," his boss, Liam, says and gives him a slap on the back.

"Thanks," Harry murmurs. "I'm gonna go freshen up, if that's okay."

Liam nods, brown eyes flickering towards the dressing room. "Sure. You've earned a break."

Harry bites his lip as he stammers towards the dressing room that's hidden behind a red curtain. He pushes it aside with an annoyed grunt. The air reeks of marijuana, causing him to wrinkle his nose. A lot of the dancers prefer to get high before performing. It takes the edge off.

He sits down in front of a large vanity. A circle of light bulbs around the mirror provide the only source of luminescence in the room. He grimaces at his messy reflection, distorted by several cracks and smudges.

Abruptly, the curtain rips open. Harry spins around in his chair.

"Styles," one of the strippers greets with a short nod.

The oil on his olive skin draws attention to his marvelous tattoos. He's been given the nickname "Angel" thanks to the angel wings tattooed on his chest, right below his collarbones. Wrinkles fill his golden thong as he plops down on the nearby sofa. Harry thinks it's a size too big, but he doesn't say anything.

"Hello, Angel," Harry smiles back.

The stripper scoffs. He reaches over to the overflowing ashtray and grabs a discarded blunt. He lights the end with a translucent blue lighter before sticking it between his lips.  He inhales sharply.

"Don't call me that," he drawls and breathes out the smoke. His dark eyes look hazy, rimmed with red. "How'd you feel if I called you Rose? That's your strip name, yeah?"