Basically ages ago linddzz and I had a random exchange about Jack and Pitch ending up in the same lingerie at a party (and jvalentyne drew this AMAZING picture :D :D :D). I started to write something about how that might come about but decided that I should probably finish one of the gazillion things I have already started. So here’s what’s been written. Unfortunately it doesn’t even get to the Koz/Pitch in lingerie bit, but if anyone wants to write any more, have at it :)
Click below for Jack going into a fetish club for the first time, wearing lingerie under his jeans.
It doesn’t look like a sex club. Or a fetish club, or – or whatever. It doesn’t look like anything special or interesting. It just looks like an office, or-
A couple in skintight latex walk past and step through the door.
Well. Looks like Jack’s in the right place.
Now he just needs to go inside.
Taking in a deep breath, he slots a grin into place and pushes open the door.
The latex couple are at a desk, handing over their payment and joking with the cashier guy. He’s cute, Jack thinks – brown hair and green eyes and an adorable smattering of freckles. Maybe later-
Maybe Jack needs to get ahold of his hormones.
The latex couple receive a ticket each and then push through a curtain into who knows what, and Jack approaches the cashier, who looks him up and down.
“We’ve got a dress code,” he says, and Jack nods. He pushes up his hoodie and-
Come on, come on, you didn’t come all this way to freak out now, this is the whole reason you wanted to come here.
He tugs at the waistband of his jeans, just enough to show a peek of the lacey panties he wears beneath. The cashier grins and nods appreciatively.
“Looks good. There’s a place to change inside. You got ID?”
Jack hands over his fake ID and hopes to hell it passes muster. A second passes, then another, and Jack thinks fuck fuck fuck but then it’s handed back to him.
“Thanks. That’s $10.”
Jack hands over his crumpled ten and turns to the curtain.
On the other side is-
He doesn’t know, really. It’s somewhere he can wear lingerie and nothing else and that’s what brought him here. Running on hormones and nothing else, common sense a distant memory, he drove ten miles to this place and fuck, what’s he got himself into?
Fuck it, he thinks. He’s paid his money, he might as well see what’s on the other side.
He pushes through the curtain-
And sees a bar. People drinking, and talking, and laughing. Admittedly they’re wearing latex and lingerie, corsets, leather pouches, collars with leashes and outfits made from nothing but rope. But other than that, it could be any old bar.
“You looking for the dressing room?” A woman with brightly-coloured hair, wearing a corset to match and thigh-high boots. She smiles at him, and the man whose leash she’s holding – a man wearing bunny ears, with tribal tattoos on his arms and chest. He glares at Jack.
“It’s just over there,” she points. “I can’t wait to see what you’re wearing! My favourite part of this place is seeing what everyone’s wearing.”
“Sure,” he says, and dashes away to the dressing rooms, which turn out to be curtained cubicles with ceiling-to-floor mirrors. He strips quickly, figuring that if he’s mostly naked it’ll be harder for him to wimp out. Stuffing his clothes into a lockbox under the bench, he examines himself. Satiny panties with a lace trim, matching suspender belt and sheer stockings with lace tops. He-
He looks pretty fucking hot, actually, he thinks, and grins.
He can do this. He can rock this.
He pulls aside the curtain and steps back out into the bar area.