"U-Um... Stupid question, but..." Phoenix quietly stuttered as several passing men winked at him suggestively amidst the cool-night's refreshing breeze - which he reflexively shivered against
"W-What the heck did you just make me do?"
"Apart from drink a lot of wine?"
"Apart from drink a lot of wine." Kristoph smirked at his companion, radiating an impeccably undeniable aura of smugness, as he leant against the red-bricked outside wall of the, prettily illuminated, infamous 'Illicit' nightclub - or 'gay bar' as everyone else seemed to refer to it as -, lazily eyeing the other men passing by.
"Well I do believe that you may have sexually danced on a platform around a pole in front of everyone, but we might be quite drunk - and so might they, considering how they keep ogling your... 'Assets'... So it's quite alright." The shorter man flushed a bright pink, indignantly blurting out;
"So, let me get this straight..." Phoenix leant forwards slightly, away from the glassy section of the wall that he'd been using as a back support - actually, he'd needed quite a few of those lately (not that the stubborn man would admit to such a thing, of course) - and grimaced at the unfamiliar sensation of no longer having a, bright blue, neon 'Open 24 hours' sign imprinted in his spinal cord.
"You're telling me that I pole-danced in front of everyone but it's ok since we're drunk?" The spiky-haired man spluttered with hysterical, panicked, laughter which freakishly likened him to some sort of stereotypical villain in the award-winning series called 'The Steel Samurai' as he cautiously leant back again, the sign melding to his previously-embellished skin comfortably.
"You have to be joking. I know I'm a little wild, but I certainly wouldn't do something like that." Phoenix attempted to flash his most confident grin at the other man as he turned to face him, but felt his resolve crumble as he noticed that the dominant exterior had been reciprocated upon the other's slender face, the dizzying lights surrounding them adding an eerily green-coloured sheen to those snake-like eyes. It was weird, actually, how much the blonde-headed man resembled the reptile when closely inspected.

The shorter man eventually decided that that was a bit rude - especially since this man had been hitting on him since he laid eyes upon him - and hastily abandoned that train of thought.

"Have you already gotten so drunk that you've forgotten all of the details?"
"I don't know. How many did you stuff down my throat again?"
"How many what?"
"Drinks - I vaguely remember you gave me at least 5."
"Oh; drinks." The taller man smiled fondly - or perhaps the correct adjective was menacingly - as he slowly rocked backwards and forwards on his immaculately-polished heels, gazing up at the start-dotted sky dreamily for a brief moment.
"You don't really seem that drunk, to be honest." Kristoph turned to look at the flushed man shyly standing beside him;
"You seem just as stupid as before. Just a bit clumsier," As if to prove his point, Phoenix weakly stumbled as he was teasingly jostled by the taller man and, in some pathetic feat of defiance, attempted to shove the blonde-haired male back in retaliation, only to find that Kristoph had slyly caught his wrists and was currently holding him hostage, his hands frozen awkwardly in front of his broad chest.
"U-Unfair!" The shorter man pouted angrily as-best-as-he-could, stifling an embarrassed chuckle as the man who currently held him captive fondly smiled at him, cocking his own head in amusement at the way that the spiky-haired man's eyes followed his neatly-plaited hair's movements upon his lavishly clothing-embroidered shoulder-blades. In fact, the captive man seemed so entranced by those uninteresting movements that it caught him completely off-guard when his rosy lips were suddenly captured by Kristoph's thin, moist ones and he was enveloped in fast-paced, heated, flurry of affectionate display. 

"So he's taken?"
"How can his partner be happy about him being a poledancer?"
"Is he a slut?"
"Who cares, guys. If he's a prostitute, then that only means that we get a turn at some point, right?"

A few snide conversations and pointed comments about Phoenix drifted in and out of the crowds and hubbub of passing men whom were also exiting the bar, peering at the scene of the pole-dancer being pinned against a wall by a taller man with a talented mouth, however the pair ignored every single insult and compliment, as though they were no more than specks of dust - simple to eradicate; besides, it wasn't like the two could focus on anything else, anyway. They were too busy with their own thoughts buzzing in their minds. Kristoph couldn't help but feel that he wanted - no, needed - to turn this into more than a one-night stand, and Phoenix...

Well, Phoenix was happy. Phoenix was no fool. Phoenix could tell that this wasn't just a simple flight of fancy - he could sense by how the taller man was leading him on that this was something that Kristoph more of, and Phoenix was more than happy to provide whatever the other wanted... As long as it was a healthy, happy and truthful relationship. Phoenix's love-life up until this moment had been...

Bland.

Bland and upsetting.

He'd never really found anyone to confide in properly - not after that whole Dahlia Hawthorne fiasco. Ever since then, Phoenix hadn't been able to trust anyone to the full, boundless, extent that he had with that red-headed scoundrel - and that was why, when he dropped out of law school, he'd turned to less admirable tactics of earning the odd Den (the Japanifornian currency) here and there to keep him going; heading out to nightclubs to try and find someone who'd buy him a drink in return for his number had never been something he'd been proud of admitting but Phoenix had decided that, since his first lover had been so cruel, love was something unimportant - a weakness - and so he'd set upon trying to make a living out of the silly idealism that finding a hot companion at a night-time event was desirable. It didn't really matter anyway, right? As long as he never met those people again, he'd never have to answer as to why he'd never picked up their calls, and the likelihood of meeting the same person twice, by chance, was little to none among the millions who lived in Japanifornia's exquisitely-decorated cities.

'Trusting someone leads to downfall' was the motto that had been imprinted in Phoenix's mind for all these years, but something about Kristoph seemed different. Something was indistinct, under the water, and it was exciting, not being able to place his finger on an articulate aspect of the other man; it forced impulse to kick in and try and figure out if this was worthwhile or not. After all, what would a fancy government-official prosecutor want to do with a lowlife loser like hi-

"Put your hands in the air."