ice mechanic + pony by ginuwine!
I said the first person and you were the first person! Also this did not go the direction I intended but whatever on drunk drabble night there are no real rules.
Who ever heard of a stripper with a beard? That was Raven’s first thought when he came out, his shoulders straight and his chin tipped up. There was a thin line between arrogant and cocky and the King Roan walked it like a tightrope.
Ginuwine’s Pony kicked up and Raven snorted a little because dude, we’ve all seen Magic Mike at this point. Roan spun a tiara on his finger tip, striding back and forth across the stage. That was his thing, the girls had explained when they dragged her here— every night, he picked a queen.
It was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard until his eyes locked on hers. Then her chest felt tight, like all the oxygen was slowly leaking from the room. He walked— no, he swaggered— towards her, his icy blue eyes pinning her to her chair. Roan stopped a good five feet away and she thought maybe she’d escaped, but no, he was just tearing his shirt off, which was simultaneously terrible and wonderful.
Wonderful because he had a body chiseled by the Hand of God himself, and terrible because again, body, chiseled by the Hand of God, etc, and now everyone was staring at her so she couldn’t drool like she wanted to. He prowled the last two steps towards her and stopped. The spotlight found them both and Raven wanted to squirm, but instead she found herself almost…enjoying it. He tipped her chin up with one finger and then laid the tiara across her brow, his eyes never leaving her face. She met his gaze because Raven never backed down from a challenge, even if that challenge was a male stripper in a club called the Ice House, which…what?
The chorus hit and he started gyrating and a smile spread across her face despite her best efforts. Something like humor flashed in his eyes too, so she leaned back and let him dance. He was good, which probably shouldn’t have been a surprise to her but whatever, she didn’t go to strip clubs very often, and when Clarke slipped a bill into her hand Raven tucked it into his waistband with a quirk of her brow. He was a king, after all, and she was his queen.
