The thing Dean really noticed was the wings. They were huge and dark, inked onto pale skin, the feathers so intricate that if he were to put a hand out and brush his fingers along their shafts, he was convinced that they would be soft as the down from a pillow. Dean's eyes followed the movement of muscle under the blackened skin as the man arched his back to get a better position on the smooth metal pole that he was currently wound around.

Okay, so Dean was checking out a stripper, and a male one at that, but he didn't care. He was already so drunk that he wouldn't even bat an eye if a flying elephant suddenly landed in the room. Although a part of him did wonder why there was a male stripper at Sam's bachelor party. Well, technically there were two strippers, the wing guy and some brunette who was currently on Ash's lap.

Dean had been the one to convince Sam to get strippers.

"Come on, Sammy. It's your fucking bachelor party. A few strippers are necessary."

"For you, maybe. But you know I'm not into that kinda thing."

"Oh can the good boy attitude. If you won't find some, I will, and I'll have them all give you private dances right in front of Jess."

Eventually Sam had given in and he and Dean had perused the internet until they found some club called Heaven and Hell. It boasted that it "had both the naughty and the nice" and Dean was quite satisfied with the pictures that accompanied the site

Apparently there were two types of stripper that you could hire. People called "Angels" and "Demons." Dean thought it was a little cheesy, but the rates were cheaper than other joints, and the women were hot, so he called in and requested one of each. The man with the accent that had picked up his call sounded all too pleased with the fact that he "wanted a little of both the devil and the saints." Dean had rolled his eyes and told the man the address.

Of course Dean hadn't expected Wing Tats to show up. The woman, whose name appeared to be Meg, had entered shortly after Bobby had left, claiming that he didn't want to be around when the whores showed up. She was drop dead gorgeous and the smile that she gave Sam as she walked in spelled out danger. Dean had been about to make a move on her when the man had showed up.

He was tall and handsome as hell with a long nose and a jaw that had the lightest dusting of stubble on it. Dean wasn't normally into guys, but damn this guy was something else. And his eyes, they were so blue that Dean swore they were going to be burned permanently onto his retinas. Unlike Meg, the man was dressed, for now, and Dean eyes had drifted hungrily over the small bit of skin that was exposed by the undone first button of the guy's Oxford. The clothes hadn't stayed on long though.

The party had moved to the lobby of the hotel they were in and Dean noticed the thin, silver pole that had been set up in the middle of the bar area. Sam and the rest of the guys had gone to get drinks from the bored looking bar tender, Meg following close at their heels, whispering things into their ears and swinging her scantily clad hips. The male stripper was standing near the pole, glancing up at it, and Dean's heart skipped a beat as he realized that Meg and Wing Tats were probably going to dance on it.

He'd been right of course. Meg was the first to go, sliding up and down the pole in smooth movements, elegant and fucking gorgeous. Ash, Garth, Christian and the rest of the boys watched with wide eyes, wolf whistling occasionally. Dean's eyes remained fixed on the man however as he began to shrug off the heavy trench coat he was dressed in.

The loose tie around his neck came next, the silk slipping slightly, pounding against Dean's ears despite the loud music that Adam had started up. The man's blue eyes were fixed on Dean as he tugged the tie loose and started unbuttoning his Oxford. Dean's breath hitched in his throat as the Oxford slid off the man's shoulders, revealing perfectly toned pale skin underneath. Some of the others in the room had turned from watching Meg to stare at Wing Tats, who had slipped off his shoes and was working at rolling up the ends of his tight jeans.

It wasn't really a striptease, but damn was it arousing to watch the way the defined muscles of his arms moved as bunched up the fabric around his ankles. He straightened up and Dean's mouth went dry as the man started stretching. It was almost hypnotizing to watch the way the lean muscles moved under the thin skin. The man finished the exercise with a roll of his neck on his shoulders and then he headed for the pole. Meg was on the floor again now, walking toward Christian who watched her with lidded eyes.

Dean watched with baited breath as Wing Tats fingered the metal pole. He ran his fingers along it slowly and then gripped it tightly with both hands. He swung up, looping one leg around the pole, fitting it in the crook of his knee and then using his thigh muscles to raise himself up higher so he could bend backward, hanging on by just the powerful muscles in his leg.

It was now that Dean noticed the wings, tattooed onto the man's back, the ends of the feathers reaching far below the waistband of his jeans, which were pulled tight across his ass. The man moved up and down the pole effortlessly, muscles bunching under the pale skin, the movements timed perfectly with the music that was blaring from Adam's boom box.

Dean was nearly going out of his mind. Each movement was torture. The way the man's hands gripped the pole, his knuckles white as he gracefully raised his legs above his head. If this wasn't the most arousing thing he had ever watched, Dean was lying through his teeth.

He looked around at the others, trying to judge their reactions. Ash and Christian were too busy with Meg, who was giving Ash a lap dance that involved Christian running his hands down her back. Garth and Adam were trying to avert their eyes from either of the strippers, but Dean could see Adam's eyes dart up to stare at Wing Tats occasionally. Dean sighed, at least he wasn't the only one completely transfixed by this man.

The slick sound of skin sliding over metal drew Dean's attention back to the pole. The man was hanging with one arm crooked around the pole, his legs swept outward. Dean's eyes followed the drops of sweat that slid down the man's spine, moving over the dark ink. The man's eyes were closed and it was obvious that he was concentrating hard on his task.

There was a hand on his shoulder and Dean jumped. Sam was next to him now. He nudged Dean in the side and cocked his head in the direction of Wing Tats, an eyebrow raised. Fuck. Sam knew Dean better than anybody and Dean knew that he could see he was aroused as hell by this guy.

Dean tried to stutter out a sentence but Sam just shook his head and passed Dean two twenty dollar bills. Dean's eyes went wide and his heart did a weird sort of flip flop in his chest. He was damn broke so any thoughts of something like a lap dance from this guy hadn't even entered his mind. Sam gave Dean a look and then went over to sit down at the bar.

Dean gulped and then slowly, ever so slowly, inched his way toward the pole. The man was in the middle of an interesting pose that made his spine bow so far that it looked painful. He straightened out again and threw a leg over the pole. Dean watched him breathe and then he was taken aback as the man's intense eyes opened. Dean was stuck staring at that impossible blue and he couldn't breathe.

The man cracked a small smile and it urged Dean on. He'd been to quite a few strip clubs, he knew the process, he'd just never been interested in a dude like this before. He took a deep breath, put on his best seductive smile and then pulled one of the twenties out of his pocket. He twined the bill through his fingers, and the man paused in his dance. He braced his legs against the pole, hooking his knees around it so that he was suspended by his legs and yeah Dean's eyes were sweeping over every clenched muscle as the man reached a hand out and took the bill from Dean. He tucked it into his pocket and then he was sliding down the pole and standing in front of Dean, looking at him like a cat would a mouse.

Dean watched with wide eyes as the man put a finger out and traced Dean's jaw. Dean forgot how to think as his head went fuzzy and then the man was pushing at him slightly, hard enough to signify that Dean should back up. Dean did and nearly fell into the chair that had somehow appeared behind him. He looked frantically over at the rest of his group, but they were preoccupied with Meg who was heading toward the pole.

Dean looked back up at Wing Tats who was sliding slowly off the platform that the pole had been set up on. He had an interesting expression on his face, something between boredom and interest, but there was no denying the feral spark in his azure eyes.

He walked slowly up to Dean and Dean's heart began thrumming in his chest. The man surveyed him through lidded eyes and then he smoothed his hands down himself, palms spreading over the muscles of his torso, fingers stopping as he reached the waistband of his jeans. His fingers tapped the belt a few times, as though he were deciding whether or not to keep his pants on. He must have decided against it though as he simply stepped forward and slid into Dean's lap, clenching his legs around Dean's and Dean was definitely hard now.

He bit his bottom lip hard as Wing Tats put his hands on the back of the chair, trapping Dean's head between his arms. He let his eyes move over Dean's face and the blood pooled in Dean's gut at the gaze from those cerulean orbs. The man moved one hand to Dean's face, cupping his jaw and running a finger over the stubble that lined Dean's cheek. Dean gasped aloud as the man's thumb moved to drag across his bottom lip. Unintentionally Dean bucked his hips into the man's, instantly regretting it as the man drew back slightly, but then he was grinding against Dean, rubbing his jeans against Dean's clothed erection.

Dean hissed and threw his head back, arms flailing as he tried to find something, anything, to hold onto other than the man. Wing Tats pressed harder into Dean's crotch, keeping Dean's legs pinned under him. Dean let out a whine at the contact and then his mind went white momentarily as the man's fingers slipped down to the buckle of Dean's belt. He yanked at it hard, nearly pulling Dean's ass off the chair and then he was unbuckling it, making Dean moan and clench his fists as he unzipped Dean's fly slowly.

The man leaned forward and brushed his lips against Dean's ear. He licked the shell of it and Dean bit his lip so hard he felt blood in his mouth. Then the man's fingers were trailing down his dick, which was straining so hard against his boxers that it was painful. Dean's head went light and he rocked his hips up a bit, nails digging into his palms as he tried to keep from running his hands over the man who was pleasuring him.

The man's breath beat against Dean's ear and he said in a husky voice, "Another twenty and I'll let you touch me."

Dean's mouth fell open. This guy's voice was definitely the sexiest thing he'd ever heard, gravely and low and fucking gorgeous. He couldn't get the money out fast enough, but once he did, he stuck it into Wing Tats's belt and then surged upward to latch onto the man's neck, lips eager against the alabaster flesh.

The man hissed into his ear and angled his neck away from Dean with a, "Now, now. I said touch, not mark." He ran a finger down Dean's cheek and ordered, "Hands only."

Dean nodded dumbly and then he gripped the man's hips tightly as Wing Tats ran a finger down Dean's cock again. He flicked at the front of Dean's boxers, which were already damp and then he was moving so that he could slip a hand into Dean's boxers. Dean inhaled sharply as the man's fingers slid over the heated skin around his twitching cock. The man gripped Dean in his hand and Dean threw his head back, hitting the edge of the back of the chair, but not caring in the least because fuck, just fuck this guy was so good.

Dean thrust his hips into the man's hand as Wing Tats pumped him a few times. He swiped a finger over the head of Dean's dick and Dean growled. He could feel that fire beginning to burn in his veins and then the man was moving his hand rhythmically and his lips were on Dean's neck, lapping at the sweat that was pooling in the dip of Dean's collar bone. That was all it took to put Dean over the edge. He arched up and his body burned white hot, fire rushing through his veins. He came back down with a gasp, leaning his forehead against the shoulder of the man as he panted. That was the quickest anyone had ever gotten him to come and damn was it good.

"Fucking Christ man," Dean breathed, his voice shaky.

He could feel the man smile against his neck and then he was being tucked back into his jeans. The man zipped him up with an the air of a person who'd just finished eating a sandwich instead of making Dean orgasm so good that his head was still spinning.

Dean watched through lidded eyes as the man stood up again. He pulled the twenty out of his belt, tucked it into his pocket, and then proceeded to wipe his cum covered hand on his jeans. He winked at Dean and then he walked over to where Meg was lip locked with Ash. Dean's eyes followed the man as he bent down to whisper something into Meg's ear. Meg pulled away from Ash and then got up. She and Wing Tats headed in the direction of the discarded pile of clothing by the pole. Meg waited for Wing Tats to pull on his shirt and his tie and then he offered her his trench coat. She pulled it around herself and they both headed in the direction of the lobby. Wing Tats held the door open for her, and Dean's breath hitched as the man held his gaze for a full minute before leaving, the hotel door swinging shut behind him.

The rest of the night was a blur in Dean's mind. He vaguely remembered Ash dancing on top of one of the tables to "Can't Touch This" and then everything was sorta fuzzy. He woke with his face pressed into Sam's ass while Sam was sprawled out over the floor, snoring like a damn chainsaw. It had taken quite a while for all of them to make their way back to their respective houses, and Dean had crashed on his couch the moment he stumbled through his door. He was out as soon as his face hit the cushion.

Dean turned up to work an hour late. He hadn't really slept. Every time he'd closed his eyes, he'd seen the blue of Wing Tats's eyes and he lost count of how many dreams involved warm hands and pale skin. He didn't even want to think about the dream that had had him waking up covered in his own jizz. Damn he was losing it. But he'd be damned if that guy didn't live up to his title of Demon or Angel, whichever one he was. Dean had a feeling he was probably the Angel side of the club, seeing as Meg seemed the type to flaunt the devilish smile and the spiky tail. There was something about Wing Tats that seemed different, and Dean was dying to call up the agency and request a private session with him. He didn't normally go for dudes, but this guy was something else.

Bobby didn't gripe as much as Dean thought he would. Just slapped him upside the head and told him that he better be on time for the next five thousand shifts. Dean gave him a lopsided smile and then slid under the car that he was tuning up for the day. The hours passed quickly, but his mind wandered more than once to Wing Tats and the feel of him pressed up against him, all muscle and chapped pink lips and gravelly voice and perfection. Dean had to take a quick wank in the bathroom before he left, muttering curses as he clocked out. He just couldn't get this guy out of his head, which is why he called Heaven and Hell as soon as he got home.

The sleazy man with the accent answered, "Heaven and Hell. This is Balthazar speaking, how may I help you?"

Dean took a deep breath and said, "Yeah, I was wondering if you could hook me up with one of your guys."

"Angel or Demon?" Balthazar asked in a drawl and Dean could hear some papers rustling in the background.

"Er," Dean answered, racking his brain to remember if he ever got Wing Tats name, or stage name, which he hadn't. He cleared his throat, "Actually I was looking for a specific guy. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, full wings tattoo on his back."

Balthazar chucked on the other end of the line and then he said, "You must be talking about Emmanuel. He's my best stripper. Doesn't matter if you're straight, queer, or somewhere in between, he will get you off regardless."

"Yeah," Dean breathed, "Had a bit of that first hand the other night."

There was a snort from Balthazar and then the man said, "Let me guess, you want a private session do you?" Dean started to stutter out a reply, but Balthazar cut him off with a quick, "Hate to burst your bubble, but Emmanuel doesn't do private sessions. Only bars or groups. So unless you've got a party planned in the near future, I'd find something else to get you off."

Dean's face fell and he mumbled, "Great." He sighed. "Well thanks anyway."

"Mmmhmm," Balthazar mumbled before there was a click and he hung up.

Dean sat back on his couch, letting the phone fall onto the cushions. So much for trying to get a private session with this guy, who apparently went by Emmanuel. Dean had a thought and he got up to grab his laptop. He went to the website for Heaven and Hell and then went to the link for the available strippers. Sure enough, under the Angels section, was the name Emmanuel. Dean opened the tab and his breath hitched in his throat. Displayed on the screen was a picture of the man stretched out over the hood of a car, dressed only in dark jeans, which had the button undone, showing a bit of skin. Dean's eyes traveled hungrily over the pale skin that contrasted sharply with the black hood of the car. He definitely had a hard on for this guy.

There was a address in small print at the bottom of the page and Dean clicked it. It took him to the home site for a local bar called "Crowley's" Dean grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down the address, glancing at the time. The bar opened in two hours and he was definitely going if there was a possibility that Emmanuel was going to be there.

Dean was just about to hop in the shower to wash off the work day, when his cell went off, AC/DC blaring through his apartment. He fished it out from the couch cushions that it had fallen between and answered with a quick, "Yeah?"

Sam's voice answered him, "Did you take home one of my shoes by accident last night?"

"Your shoe?"

"Yeah, I can't find it. Woke up this morning and it was gone."

Dean snorted. "Nope. haven't seen it. It's probably back at the hotel."

"Figured as much," Sam sighed. There was a pause and then Sam asked, "Whatcha up to?"

Dean chewed his lip. There was no way he was going to tell Sam that he was counting down the hours until he could go see the stripper, the male stripper, that had been at the party last night. Instead he just said, "I'm watching... uh, tv."

"Don't tell me you're watching that Dr. Sexy show again," Sam said.

"Hey," Dean replied, "It's a good show."

"Whatever," Sam sneered, "Just don't tell me how many times you jerk off to that dude in the cowboy boots."

"Bitch," Dean hissed into the phone.

Sam's standard reply of "Jerk" came with a small laugh and then Dean hung up the phone.

It turned out that Dr. Sexy M.D. was on, so Dean decided to watch a couple of episodes until the bar would open. He didn't really pay attention to much of the plot, constantly checking the time to see how much longer until he could head down to Crowley's. Eventually he just gave up, switched off the television, grabbed the keys to his Impala and headed out the door.

He drove around for a bit, counting down the minutes and then he pulled his phone and switched it to GPS, following the directions to the bar. He pulled up, leaning over the steering wheel to see the place. It was small, but there was one hell of a party going on inside. Dean could see people silhouetted against the drawn blinds and there was a neon sign advertising the entertainment that Dean was here for. He parked the Impala and slipped inside, nervously fingering his wallet, where he had stashed a couple of twenties and fifties. He was definitely gonna be broke forever.

The interior of the bar was smoky and Dean squinted through it to scan the room. It was large, and he could see a narrow hallway that led to several backrooms which, judging by the strippers that were currently dancing on top of a stage in the middle of the bar, were used for private sessions. Dean's eyes flicked over the women dancing, slightly disappointed that Emmanuel's dark head of hair wasn't bobbing somewhere between them.

He headed for the bar, nodding at the bartender to hit him up with a beer. The woman did, giving him a sultry wink as she passed him the bubbling beverage. He ignored her and grabbed the glass, turning around to watch the proceedings of the club as he sipped at his drink.

A couple of the woman were dancing together, rubbing against each other and earning wolf whistles from the men watching them. Dean took another sip of his beer. Part of him wished he were here for that. Hell he swore he'd been straight yesterday, well he liked to think that, but there was Aaron back in high school, although that had been a one nighter, the one nighter that he'd never told anyone about, aside from Sammy of course. His dad would have beaten the hell out of him, if he'd known that his son had fucked the boy from math class. Dean had tried to stay away from dick, but he couldn't deny the fact that he was often more attracted to men. He'd steal side glances at the dudes that would come in to tune up their cars, and he was a sucker for a man in a suit and tie.

Sam knew that Dean was attracted to men, and he was good enough not to rub it in his face and to give Dean a couple of twenties when he noticed that his brother was nearly drooling over the male stripper at his bachelor party.

Dean took another long sip of his beer and checked the time on his watch. He could ask someone if Emmanuel was going to be here, but he didn't exactly like the idea of going up to some random stranger and asking whether or not he was going to get some action with the stripper that gave him the best orgasm he'd had in a while.

He sighed and finished off his drink, staring out the bottom of the glass as he drained it. He nearly choked on the last sip as he spied a familiar dark head of hair through the warped glass. He lowered it quickly, and yeah, that was definitely Wing Tats (or Emmanuel or whatever he was called) dancing with a blonde.

Dean set the glass on the bar and watched as Emmanuel ran his hands up and down the woman's side. She was dressed in a skimpy bra and undies that had lace hanging off of them. She moved slightly and Dean's mouth dropped open, because Emmanuel was dressed in very tight black briefs, a bowtie, and black Converse sneakers. Dean's eyes followed the sharp curve of his hips, slipping down to the V of his hips and then over the front of the briefs. Fuck. Just fuck.

He ran a hand through his hair and tried to focus. Emmanuel was now running his lips up the side of the woman's neck. He began moving his hips into her ass in slow movements that made Dean nearly go out of his mind. He needed to get a grip. He should probably just go, get back into his Impala and just go home, but the blood was pumping in his ears and he couldn't tear his eyes away as Emmanuel rocked his hips against the woman.

Dean slid off the barstool and made his way over to the stage that Emmanuel and the blonde were dancing on. He slipped between two guys that reeked of alcohol and stared up at Emmanuel. His eyes drifted over every displayed muscle, followed every movement. The blonde turned around in Emmanuel's grasp and ground their hips together. His hands came to cup her ass and Dean watched as his large palms squeezed her slightly. They moved together a few times and Dean tried to keep his breathing steady as Emmanuel jerked his hips into hers. The blonde trailed her fingers down Emmanuel's sides and then she was backing away to go wind around one of the poles that were attached to the table.

Dean's eyes remained fixed on Emmanuel. He nearly had a heart attack when the blue eyes locked onto his and then a small smile was spreading across the stripper's face and he was stepping closer to Dean. Dean tried to keep his heart from beating out of his chest as Emmanuel kneeled on the stage so that he was eye to eye with Dean.

He ran one finger down Dean's cheek and asked in his fucking heavenly voice, "Back for more?"

Dean nodded stupidly and then he was pulling out his wallet, fumbling for the fifty and handing it to Emmanuel with a hungry look in his eyes. Emmanuel eyed the bill and then he let his eyes travel over Dean's face. He tapped a finger against his knee in thought and then he yanked the bill out of Dean's fingers and slipped it into his sneaker. He stood up and walked over to the where the stage lowered a bit and hopped off it with unnatural grace. He crooked a finger at Dean and then headed in the direction of the back rooms. Dean nearly tripped over his own feet as he ran after him.

Emmanuel slipped inside the first room and Dean followed eagerly, hardly believing that this was happening. The room was small with a single bed that sat in the middle. Dean's breath hitched as Emmanuel went over to it. He didn't lie down however, just stared at it while tapping his chin in thought. Dean's eyes roamed over the feathers that stained the man's back. He was never going to get over how fucking sexy this guy was.

He turned around and faced Dean, crossing his arms and he said, "We can do this many ways, but it all depends on how much you wanna fork over. Another fifty and I'll blow you."

Dean made a small noise in the back of his throat and he stuttered out, "Really?"

Emmanuel shrugged. "Unless you'd rather just get another lap dance."

"No," Dean said quickly pulling out another fifty and practically thrusting it at Emmanuel.

Emmanuel grinned wolfishly and then he pointed to the bed. "Lie down."

Dean obeyed, sprawling backward on the red bed sheet, his eyes fixed on Emmanuel who had hooked his thumbs into the briefs. Dean licked his lips as he let his eyes travel over the expanse of skin and muscle that was before him. His gaze drifted back up to Emmanuel's face and he was surprised to see that the stripper was grinning.

Emmanuel stepped closer to him and put his palms on Dean's chest, pushing him back against the bed. Dean's hands scrambled at the sheets as Emmanuel straddled him. Emmanuel rubbed against Dean's hips slightly and Dean threw his head back, hands clenching the fabric.

Leaning down, Emmanuel whispered into his ear, "Would you like to touch me?"Dean nodded emphatically and Emmanuel chuckled.

He moved so that he could tug at the buttons of Dean's jacket, slipping it off him and then working at pulling his shirt over his head. Dean gasped as the stripper put his warm hands on his chest. He traced a pattern over Dean's stomach and then followed it with his tongue, wet and slick against Dean's skin. Dean cried out and grabbed onto Emmanuel's shoulders

He was promptly slapped across the face and he looked up with wide eyes at Emmanuel who hissed, "I didn't say you could touch me yet." He ran a finger down the stinging flesh of Dean's cheek and whispered, "Hands above your head until I say you can move them, understand?"

"Yes," Dean growled, raising his hands above his head and pressing them into the bedspread.

Emmanuel gave a short nod of satisfaction, and then, for good measure, he gripped Dean's wrists with one hand while the other went to tease at one of Dean's nipples. He tweaked it and Dean groaned, thrusting his hips up, trying to get friction against Emmanuel. Emmanuel raked his nails over Dean's skin and then moved his lips to Dean's neck, trailing soft kisses over the straining sinews as Dean arched up from the bed.

"Do you like that?" Emmanuel growled against his skin.

Dean whimpered in reply and Emmanuel grinned before nipping at Dean's collar bone and making Dean mewl loudly. Part of Dean wanted to be embarrassed for the way he was acting, he was normally the one to dish it out, but this guy, fuck, he was amazing and it took all of Dean's willpower not to wrench his hands from his grasp and run them over the lean muscles of the stripper.

Emmanuel dragged his tongue along Dean's skin and Dean bucked up from the bed again. He struggled against the iron grip of the man's hands on his wrists, but Emmanuel stilled him with a hand to his lower stomach.

"Wanna touch you," Dean gasped out as Emmanuel sucked at his neck.

"Not yet," Emmanuel commanded, and Dean wondered how this guy's voice was so fucking steady. He was nearly going out of his mind.

Emmanuel's hands skirted over Dean's sides and Dean leaned up obediently as the stripper worked his fingers under Dean's belt. He unbuckled it and pulled it off in a smooth motion, the metal clanging as he threw it over his shoulder. His quick fingers unzipped Dean's fly and then he was yanking Dean's jeans down over his erection.

Dean threw his head back against the bed as Emmanuel ground his own cock against Dean's and yeah, this stripper was definitely hard as well. Dean thrust his hips into Emmanuel's and Emmanuel hissed against Dean's ear. He raised himself up off of Dean, but Dean hooked his legs around Emmanuel's waist, bringing him back against him and grinding their hips together.

He stopped quickly as Emmanuel bit him hard behind the ear, so hard that it made Dean yelp out. "What the fuck?" Dean yelled, trying to deny the fact that the stripper's teeth against his skin was arousing as hell.

"You don't move unless I tell you too," Emmanuel ordered.

"Fine," Dean breathed.

He let himself go slack against the bed, despite the fact that he desperately wanted to run his lips down Emmanuel's chest that was heaving above him. The stripper gripped Dean's hips tightly and then he moved his lips down to Dean's chest, sucking slightly. Dean groaned and clenched his muscles trying not to move under Emmanuel's careful administrations.

The stripper mouthed at one of Dean's nipples and Dean growled loudly, trembling as he tried to keep still. Emmanuel flicked his tongue against Dean's skin and then he was moving his hot mouth down to Dean's stomach, further and further, until he reached the top of Dean's boxers.

He slid off Dean and onto the floor, commanding, "Sit up."

Dean did, spreading his legs automatically while Emmanuel kneeled in front of him. So much for not doing private sessions.

Emmanuel watched Dean through lidded eyes as he said, "Take them off."

Dean clenched his jaw and shimmied his boxers off, letting them pool at his ankles. This was so worth the hundred he was spending on Emmanuel. He braced himself against the bed as Emmanuel ran his hands over Dean's thighs. Dean's cock was completely hard now and he grunted as Emmanuel's breath beat against his heated skin.

The stripper looked up at him with those impossible eyes and then he said slowly, "You may touch me until I bring you to orgasm, then you have to stop, understood?"

Dean bit his lip and nodded and then Emmanuel's mouth was on his cock and his hands were wound in the dark hair. He threw his head back and let out a loud moan, because shit this guy was so good, so fucking good he that he might just come right now.

Emmanuel moved his tongue over Dean's dick, licking a stripe from shaft to tip and making Dean cry out. Dean's jaw went slack as Emmanuel took him in all the way, sucking and twirling his tongue. Dean thrust into the wet heat of the stripper's mouth and he was surprised as Emmanuel took him in further, the muscles of his throat clenching around Dean's cock and dammit this guy should be choking. But it was so good, so fucking good and then Dean was coming, hands braced against Emmanuel's shoulders. Everything was white and he was on fire. He barely registered Emmanuel swallowing and then there was an odd noise, a sort of groaning and Dean could have sworn he saw Emmanuel's eyes go wide as his body was wreaked with a forceful spasm.

Dean blinked once and fuck, that was definitely cum on the carpet next to the strippers knees. Dean caught Emmanuel tucking himself back into his skimpy briefs and then the stripper was standing up and brushing himself off, running his tongue over his lips once. Dean could just stare, because the stripper had come as well after blowing him. The thought made Dean's dick twitch, ready for a second round. Emmanuel merely shook his head as Dean started to reach for his wallet to pull out the rest of the cash.

The stripper pointed to Dean's discarded clothing. "Dress and then let yourself out."

He opened the door and left, leaving Dean sitting naked on the bed. Dean sighed and bent down to pull his boxers up. He sidestepped over the semen that was now seeping into the carpet. He wasn't sure on the policies of Heaven and Hell, but he had a feeling that the club's strippers weren't supposed to orgasm themselves while doing a private session. Dean didn't know whether or not to feel special. What he was sure of, was that his mind wasn't any further from Emmanuel now, in fact, he could tell that what had just happened was going to be in his dreams for quite a while.

He wasn't even surprised when he woke up the next morning to wet sheets and the memory of a very graphic dream that involved Emmanuel writing beneath him, blue eyes wide, hair mussed, pink lips mouthing his name in a silent plea. His phone went off shortly after he threw his sheets into the washer.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said when he answered, "I just wanted to make sure that you remember that you're going out for dinner on Friday with Jess and I."

"Shit, I totally forgot," Dean muttered, running over to the NASCAR calendar that was magnetized to his fridge. The slot for next Friday was empty and he grabbed a marker asking, "What time is it?"

"Seven pm," Sam told him, "And it's at the new steakhouse down the road."

"The one that's expensive as hell?" Dean griped as he marked the calendar.

"You only have to pay for your meal," Sam replied, "Unless you've got a date?"

"No," Dean said quickly, "Just me."

"Well then make sure that you don't blow your cash on stupid things," Sam chided, "Cause I sure as hell aint paying for you, and you are going to this dinner because you've already missed out on the other three that we had planned."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair and thinking of the money he'd spent last night.

"Just make sure you're on time," Sam told him before hanging up.

Dean chucked the phone onto the couch and then sat down beside it, putting his head in his hands. At this rate, he was going to definitely die broke, not to mention the fact that he didn't regret spending that cash on Emmanuel last night. It was the best blowjob he'd ever had and at least it would give him something to jerk off to for a while. He knew what he really needed to do, he needed to just forget about that stripper and get on with his life. His brother was getting married in less than a week and he was spending his free time lusting over some dude, and a stripper at that.

Sighing heavily he got up to go make himself a sandwich. Food always helped, and his stomach was rumbling loudly. Of course he was all out of bread and lunchmeat. Cursing, he grabbed his keys and left the apartment. He slipped into the Impala and headed down to the small grocery store that was a few blocks over.

He grabbed one of the small red baskets by the door as he went in, ignoring the wave from the young blonde cashier as he trumped past her. He headed straight for the bread isle, skirting past a couple of small children that were running after their mother. Tapping his boot in annoyance, he glanced over the array of sandwich bread, finally settling for the cheapest kind and throwing it in the basket.

He went over to the deli next and plopped several different kinds of lunchmeat and cheese into the basket. He was just about to head back up to the front when he noticed a man bending over one of the freezers. Dean's eyes flicked over the man's ass, which was damn fine, hugged nicely by the tight jeans he was wearing. Dean's heart nearly skipped a beat as the man stood up and turned around. It was Emmanuel. The stripper was standing across from him in the middle of a grocery store, dressed in a cardigan.