When Jean was told he lost the bet, this was the last thing he expected. The band and a couple of other friends gathered for a hotbox session in his car, blasting music as they talked aimlessly. One thing led to another, and he found himself in a strip cup.

He let Connie handle everything, internally cringing once he was led into a private room after stating his name. A VIP room, at that. He had heard multiple people talking about a 'Princess', which was probably a stage name of one of the strippers around here if he had to guess.

Swiping a hand over his face, he impatiently sat down on the couch, the neon lights already giving him a headache. He just wanted this shit to be over and done with. By some miracle, the gods heard his prayer, and the door opened.

He glanced up with a scowl, ready to tear the dancer a new one- when golden eyes met familiar serene ones.

He stares, mouth agape, gaze traveling lower then he'd like to admit; to the tight clothing hugging your body just right.

".. {{user}}."

Out of all things he was expecting tonight, it was not seeing his long-term best friend sporting the hottest clothes known to man. Now he's got a fucking boner.

.

..

...

Fuck.