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Xeno had made assumptions.
But, honestly, who could blame him?
Stanley Snyder had sauntered up to him at billionaire Ryusui Nanami’s absurdly lavish birthday party. He walked with the precision of a runway model. Xeno’s eyes caught on the black tuxedo that hugged his frame like armor.
This kind of event was exactly what Dr. Xeno Houston Wingfield avoided whenever possible. Too many people, too much small talk, way too much glitter and noise. But NASA insisted on appearances, and the Nanamis had been generous to the cause.
“Hello there,” Stanley greeted, his lips, stained a wine-dark purple, parting like a promise. His voice was dangerously soft, the kind that slipped under your skin before you realized it cut.
Xeno resisted the urge to stare. That would be rather inelegant.
He glanced sideways, checking who Stanley was speaking to. Seeing no one, he asked, “Me?”
Stanley chuckled.
What a beautiful sound, Xeno mused, his brain short-circuiting. Wait, what’s happening?
Stanley was treating him like a rare specimen, mesmerized by every word, every reaction.
There had to be a logical explanation. There always was.
Maybe Stanley was genuinely curious about rocket science, which Xeno was more than happy to discuss. But that wouldn’t explain why the blond kept closing the distance. Xeno said something about thrust-to-weight ratios, and then, Stanley leaned close enough for Xeno to smell his cologne. Woody, creamy sandalwood.
“Say, Doctor…” There was something about the way Stanley said that title that made it sound inappropriate. His smile was devastating. “What do you say we grab dinner some time, just the two of us?”
Xeno blinked, caught off guard.
No one had ever asked for his number before, let alone someone who looked like they had walked out of a fashion magazine and into a cologne ad.
Then it clicked. This was a world full of sharks disguised as socialites. He’d overheard whispered conversations earlier about needing to be careful, that sometimes pretty young things attended parties like these on the prowl for sugar daddies.
The puzzle pieces finally slid into place.
He was going to say no. Absolutely.
But his mouth betrayed him.
“I’d like that,” he said quietly.
Stanley’s grin widened. “Good. It’s a date.”
Xeno picked a Michelin-star restaurant. He’d had to reserve weeks in advance to get a spot.
The conversation was pleasant. The meal, exquisite. Stanley asked lots of questions about his interests and his work. He let Xeno go on about orbital perturbations for a solid twenty minutes before the waiter interrupted with the next course.
Xeno shut his mouth then, swallowing a gulp of wine. He wondered when the disappointment would set in. Surely Stanley would realize he’d aimed too low. That he’d meant to hook a billionaire and somehow caught a slightly burned-out NASA scientist with dubious social skills instead.
If Stanley didn’t like his presence, he certainly didn’t show it.
At the end of the meal, Stanley reached for the check.
This must be a test, Xeno thought.
“I’ll pay,” he said, voice flat. “I did pick the restaurant.”
Stanley didn’t argue. He just smiled that devastating smile.
Afterwards, they walked down dimly lit streets with no destination. Neither seemed eager to call it a night.
Tipsy on fine wine and adrenaline, Xeno leaned close. “If you want, you can repay me… in a non-monetary manner.”
The words felt too forward as soon as they left his mouth.
But any fear dissolved the moment Stanley grabbed his hand and led them straight to a hotel.
Stanley’s lips were so plump.
Xeno wanted to kiss them, so he did.
Stanley’s abs were so tempting.
Xeno wanted to lick them, so he did.
They didn’t go all the way that first time. Just humping and grinding like overexcited teenagers.
It was still, without question, the best sex of Xeno’s life.
Afterward, as they lay tangled in sheets, Xeno asked if Stanley would mind bringing STD test results next time, so they could take their bedroom experiments a little further.
Stanley nodded so hard it looked like he might injure his neck.
Xeno used Google to research what exactly was expected in this kind of arrangement.
Financial support in return for companionship and intimacy.
Simple. Straightforward. Efficient.
Xeno had never considered this kind of relationship before, but there was a certain brutal elegance to it. Quid pro quo.
No confusion. No lingering insecurities about what someone as young and magnetic as Stanley could possibly want with a washed-up thirty-something who'd had premature white hair since he was ten years old.
All Xeno had to do was provide.
Xeno found he liked it.
He took Stanley shopping at high-end boutiques. He invited him to absurdly fancy restaurants and smiled as he watched Stanley lick his lips. When Stanley mentioned shooting as a hobby, Xeno bought him a handcrafted rifle that cost a miniature fortune.
He’d saved plenty. Prior to this, he hardly went out, buried in his work.
Now? He was being sent wildly indecent selfies mid-meeting. And he didn’t mind one bit.
Stanley offered to pay for their outings a few times, but Xeno always waved him off.
“I like taking care of you,” he said, trying to sound sexy and not like a sleezy old man.
Stanley’s smile was more than worth it.
Stanley was truly a consummate professional.
He always answered Xeno’s texts within five minutes. He never rescheduled. He showed up, on time, every time, looking like he’d stepped off a movie set. He swore he wasn’t a model or actor. Honestly, Xeno thought, the world’s loss.
Stanley was attentive. Witty. Devastatingly good in bed.
He pleasured Xeno with his lips with the kind of focus usually reserved for bomb defusal teams. It shouldn’t be physically possible for a mouth to be that warm, that precise, and that merciless all at once.
Stanley was flexible, in every sense.
Just as happy to turn Xeno into a breathless, overstimulated wreck as he was to be fucked against a full-length mirror until he was moaning Xeno’s name and painting the glass with his cum.
There was only one minor drawback.
Stanley would not quit smoking his poison sticks.
Xeno had warned him once, “If you keep doing that, I’m going to have to punish you.”
Stanley had looked at him like he couldn’t wait.
Needless to say, the smoking never stopped.
But they both got a lot of enjoyment out of Xeno following through.
Xeno realized he was probably in too deep when he invited Stanley to spend the night at his apartment instead of a hotel.
He’d done his best to make the place presentable. Cleared the coffee table that was usually stacked with research papers, wiped down the counters, and stocked up on more normal food than meal replacement bars.
He hadn’t expected this.
After a night of debauchery, Xeno woke up to the glorious scent of sizzling bacon.
His stomach growled. So did some part of his soul.
He padded out, bleary-eyed to find Stanley in the kitchen, shirtless save for an apron, putting the finishing touches on breakfast.
He was plating what looked like Eggs Benedict on toast, the bacon crisp and artfully arranged.
“Morning, love,” he said, leaning in. Stanley kissed him like Xeno was on the menu. He tasted like something dangerously close to affection.
Xeno was the one who was supposed to do the spoiling, but too often he ended up feeling spoiled instead.
It was the little things that got to him.
How Stanley took every chance to kiss him, or hug him, or said “I love you” like he meant it.
If Stanley went into the acting profession, he’d surely earn an Oscar.
Xeno could almost believe their relationship was more than transactional.
When Xeno went over to Stanley’s place, he expected a modest apartment. Some place where he could casually offer to cover the rent, “because I like doing nice things for you”.
What he did not expect was a penthouse suite at a five-star hotel.
There was an on-site pool. Gourmet dining. Valet.
Several sports cars were parked out front, each worth more than his yearly NASA salary. Maybe more than the whole lab budget combined.
“This place is… impressive,” Xeno commented, his brain rapidly running calculations.
The conclusion was that he couldn’t afford it. He suddenly wondered if Stanley had been sorely disappointed by his place.
Worse, he recalled how Stanley had always been grateful when Xeno bought him gifts but never looked surprised or impressed.
Stanley knew luxury. Lived in it.
Xeno had been an idiot to think they were exclusive. Hell, he might be one of the stingier sponsors in Stanley’s rotation.
His heart dropped at that thought.
“Sorry I didn’t invite you over earlier,” Stanley said, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t want you thinking I was showing off or anything.”
His next words broke Xeno’s heart.
“As you can probably guess, this isn’t where I usually live. I’m uh… between places right now. My friend’s helping me out.”
“Your… friend?”
A rich “friend”. That had to be a euphemism.
Xeno could practically hear the gears in his brain grinding as they turned: Stanley probably realized a while ago that Xeno wasn’t nearly as well-off as the others at that party where they first met. Maybe he’d already upgraded.
This relationship was supposed to be easy. Transactional. Clear cut.
But somewhere along the way, Xeno had lost sight of that.
Now, he was paying the price.
“Oh yeah, you might know him. It’s Ryusui. We met at his birthday party, remember?”
That was the final nail.
Ryusui Nanami: the sugar daddy of sugar daddies.
Xeno couldn’t compete. Not even if he signed up for highly illegal research side gigs.
He tried to enjoy the evening anyway. Memorized every detail.
The curve of Stanley’s smirk. The sound of his laughter echoing off high ceilings. The warmth of his body under the sheets.
Because it might be the last time.
Later, tangled up in bed, their limbs sticky and skin humming, Stanley played with Xeno’s hair—mussed from sex, soft under his fingers.
Stanley was quite the sight, his sculpted body covered with bite marks and scratch trails.
“Feeling possessive, huh?” Stanley teased, voice light but eyes searching.
Xeno said nothing.
Reading the shadow crossing his face, Stanley’s tone shifted, sharper. “What’s wrong? Is work getting to you again?”
Xeno shook his head. “No.”
He untangled himself from the sheets and began dressing, careful not to look at Stanley’s face.
“I just… think it’s better if we don’t see each other anymore.”
He could hold on, fight for Stanley’s affection, but the battle was already lost before it had even begun.
If he stayed any longer, he’d only fall harder. Make things messier.
Maybe Stanley already wanted him gone and just hadn’t told him yet out of pity.
He braced for a casual dismissal. A shrug. Maybe a “pleasure doing business with you”.
Instead, he got tackled.
A very naked, very distressed Stanley wrapped around him like an emergency blanket made of muscle and heartbreak.
“What’s going on?” Stanley demanded, voice raw. “Just tell me what I did wrong. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”
Xeno stood frozen, arms pinned, heart pounding.
Stanley's distress was real.
Xeno swallowed hard.
Then, unsure what else to do, he explained his logic.
Stanley laughed at him, shaking with relief the moment the truth came out.
“You thought I was—and you were—?”
“There were certainly some pieces of evidence,” Xeno said, with a slightly indignant pout. He listed said evidence, as though pleading before a court.
“You approached someone older and less attractive at a billionaire’s birthday party to ask them out. You always really enjoyed my gifts, and… you like calling me ‘daddy’ in bed.”
“Oh my god, Xeno! That’s just a kink! Not…” Stanley slapped his forehead dramatically. “Look, I already said this and I’ll say it again. I’m definitely not a sugar baby, okay? I told you I’m self-employed!”
“And that you own several businesses. Right…” Xeno trailed off with a raised eyebrow.
In hindsight, Stanley supposed that did sound a little suspicious. “But it’s true! And yeah, I did find it odd how you always insisted on paying. But I thought that was some kind of kink for you! That whole ‘I’ll make you pay me with your body’ thing? It was kind of hot.”
He locked eyes with Xeno, completely serious now. “To be clear: I was never after your money. What I wanted ever since I laid eyes on you, was you and you alone.”
Stanley captured Xeno’s lips with fierce tenderness, determined to prove himself through actions and not words.
It turns out that Xeno had assumed a lot about Stanley that wasn’t true.
And missed a whole lot that was.
For instance, they were actually the same age.
Stanley and Ryusui were just friends. Specifically, childhood friends, because their parents were business partners. Stanley had butted heads with his family over refusing to inherit the empire, which was how he’d ended up crashing at Ryusui’s family’s hotel temporarily.
So, all those fancy dinners and flashy nights out?
Stanley hadn’t so much as flinched because he was perfectly used to that world.
He never mentioned his own wealth because he had been raised not to flaunt it.
But once Xeno knew? Something switched inside Stanley.
Suddenly, he was the one overwhelmed with gifts. Expensive watches, silk ties, and a surprisingly generous donation earmarked for Xeno’s research funding.
With a wicked grin, Stanley would whisper against the shell of Xeno’s ear, “I look forward to your repayment tonight.”
He pressed a kiss to the valley of Xeno’s knuckles, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Darling, don’t you think it’s about time we join the mile-high club?”