Chapter Text
Look, John wasn’t cruising ok? He wasn’t looking for a hookup. In fact he’d just gotten back from an awful blind date, in some little Thai place on the other side of town, and he just wanted to go home. If he was looking for anything, it was directions back to 5th avenue.
At the same time, though, he’s a closeted gay man in New York. It’s not as if he’d never heard of such a concept. Everyone needs stress relief, and he needs stress relief he can guarantee won’t go running to his father. Paid stress relief, with a vested interest in discretion. It’s not a common thing, but every few months he’ll browse an adult site and text a number he finds there.
It’s safe. It’s fun. And, most importantly, it’s discreet. His father never has to know. It may have been several months since he’s last done something like that, but there are only so many dates he can go on with women before something in him has to give.
This is what happens tonight:
He turns the corner off a shady street, onto an even shadier one. (This isn’t the nice part of New York - it’s gentleman’s clubs and run down bars and corner stores that locked up as soon as it gets dark). He sees a flash of dark eyes on the street corner and turns to look. Huge doe eyes, tan skin, and inky black hair that falls artfully in his face. He looks, at most, 20. The boy is just standing there, leaning against the streetlight like he belongs there.
Which, John supposes, he does.
He slows the car, opens the window to get a better look at the boy.
God, he’s pretty. Not conventionally attractive - his nose is a little too large, all his features are a little out of proportion to his face, and there’s a little bit of extra weight around his middle - but between the large, expressive eyes and the dark hair he kept pushing away from his face John is hooked.
The boy ambles over, clearly interested, and John asks the traditional question.
“Are you working?”
He gets a snort. “If I weren’t working would I be wearing these pants?” They are sinfully tight, black denim that clings to every curve. “Yes.”
“How much?” He’ll have to go to the bank, he doesn’t keep that much money in his wallet - a few hundred, sure, for emergencies, but-
“Depends what you want.” The boy says, pursing his lips. It’s absurdly attractive. “Starts at thirty.”
“Per hour?” Surely not.
“Per ‘act’.” The boy actually does air quotes around it. “Generally, I don’t go by the hour.”
Ok. This is new, but he can roll with this. The boy in front of him is incredibly attractive, even (especially) in his long-suffering sarcasm. “How much for the night then?”
The boy hesitates, rocking back on his heels before saying, “A thousand. Cash.”
That’s still far less than John is expecting. “Get in. I’ll get a hotel? And I need to stop by an ATM.”
“There’s a motel 6 two blocks over.” the boy says casually as he scrambles in the car.
John winces. “I can take us somewhere nicer, if you’d prefer.”
“Sure.” He yawns, pushing his hair back yet again. “You’re paying, mister. What do I call you?”
“John,” He says, unable to think of anything better on the fly. “What can I call you?”
“Alex.” The boy says simply.
John realizes too late that he should have said call me J. Close enough to his real name and still anonymous. Too late now. He gets 1200 out of the machine, cash, and takes them to the Hyatt. That he pays for by card.
Alex’s eyes are wide as he takes in the Hyatt - the chandeliers, the fountain, the crazy print of the carpet. Then his face settles: first into something hard, and then into an easy smile. “Should have known you were a high roller.”
“Used to paying more, I guess.” John shrugs as he heads towards the elevator. The clerk behind the counter was too polite to say anything, but he can feel the stares. Its as if there’s a giant neon sign above his head saying I JUST PAID FOR SEX. I AM TWENTY THREE AND UNABLE TO GET LAID ANY OTHER WAY.
Well. He hasn’t paid Alex yet.
Alex, who isn’t wearing very much at all. Black jeans that might have been painted on. (John’s not sure, actually, how he plans to get them off.) A tissue-thin white shirt that’s tight enough to leave nothing to the imagination. As they’re walking he shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it around Alex’s shoulders.
Alex grins, sharp and somehow hungry. “And here I thought you were a first timer. You didn’t try and grope me in the car, that’s usually a good indication,” he shrugs, then looks up at John through his eyelashes.
The sight makes John’s mouth go dry. “How- How does this work?” He asks, as the doors open onto their floor and they make their way to room 1412.
Alex just shrugs again. “However you want? You have me till dawn.”
“Do you have any rules?” John asks, because he’s never met a sex worker who didn’t have rules. Usually long lists of them. John’s never minded - he prefers things to be clear from the beginning.
“Not really.” They arrive at 1412. Alex plucks the room card from John’s fingers, giving him a cheeky grin. “Just warn me before you do anything freaky, so I can charge you extra.” He opens the door, breathing in sharply. “This is…”
“I like the Hyatt.” John agrees, taking in the wide bed fluffed up with pillows, the soft carpeting, the gorgeous view. It’s definitely a great place to spend an evening. Especially with such pleasant company.
“There’s a jet tub!” Alex exclaimed, darting into the bathroom. “Definitely big enough to have sex in.”
“Right.” John says, a bit alarmed. He doesn’t want to have sex in a bathtub. “You still haven’t told me your rules.”
“Rules.” Alex darts up onto the bed, collapsing dramatically onto the pillows and then peaking out at John. He pouts. “You seem awful hung up on rules.”
“They’re-” Alex pulls that tight little shirt off and John’s brain nearly short circuits at the miles of tawny skin exposed. God, he wants to kiss and lick and bite- “They’re important.”
“Only if I say they are.” Alex leans back on the bed. “Want to help me out of these jeans?”
“I-” He had been going to say something. He really had. Instead John just walks slowly towards Alex and places his hands on the man’s jean-clad knees. Alex lets his legs fall open, beckoning with a single raised eyebrow.
No. This is wrong. “No more,” John says firmly, “Until I hear rules. What you like and don’t like.”
Alex lets out a sound of frustration. “You are the weirdest client I’ve ever had.”
Fair. You’re the weirdest sex worker I’ve ever had.
“A grand gets me whatever I want, right?” John checks.
“Yep.”
“I want to have an honest conversation with you about your likes and dislikes before we have sex.”
“Fine. Mr Bigshot, all used to escorts.” Alex huffs. It should be insulting, John thinks, but really it’s only endearing him more. There’s a sense of realness about Alex, a raw honesty that runs through the man. “I like most kinds of sex. Giving or receiving. Condoms if it’s penetrative, I have my own. And lube. I like to talk during, but I can be quiet if that’s not your thing?” he glances sideways.
“That’s definitely my thing.” John reassures him. It’s really, really his thing.
“Cool.” Alex flips the hair out of his eyes. “I’m good with whatever weird requests you come up with - I’ve been doing this long enough that I’ve probably seen weirder. When it comes to kink I’ll top but not bottom - I don’t like clients tying me up, hitting me, whatever. They make for lousy aftercare.”
“Right.” Part of him wants to ask for some clarification, there, because Alex didn’t say I didn’t like it just clients tend to be bad at it. But he can’t figure out a way to do it and not sound like an idiot. It’s not as if he wants anything other than vanilla sex and some cuddling anyways. “Do you kiss?”
“This isn’t Pretty Woman. I’ll do whatever you pay me to do.”
“Except get tied up.” John shoots back.
He’s a little shocked to see Alex shrug again. “You gave me a thousand dollars. If you really wanted to - yeah, I probably would.”
“Right. Well, we won’t do that.”
“Such a gentleman.” Alex wiggles his hips on the bed. “Now, are you going to help me out of these jeans? I actually can’t take them off without help.”
It works. John laughs and complies. He strips Alex bare, tentatively kissing the skin that gets exposed and getting bolder as he goes. Alex tastes like sweat and smoke and something heady John can’t help but identify as male. It’s addictive. It’s why he does this, keeps looking for something - any part of this that he can have, if only for a night.
The sex is simple, uncomplicated. John finds out Alex is telling the truth when he says he likes most things. He lets John suck him off and then spends an hour kissing every damn freckle until John’s straining and desperate. Alex is talking the whole time, telling John how gorgeous he is, how well he’s doing, how much Alex is enjoying this. And then there’s just a hint of pressure on John’s wrists to hold him to the bed and John ends up coming all over himself.
If you ask, John will still call it great sex. The way Alex had laughed, the way he’d whispered you look so beautiful like this, John, I love having you like this, that I’m the one who gets to see you looking like this. Maybe it’s not porn-worthy, but he’s never liked that anyway.
Alex is even nice enough to get up and get a cloth. He wipes them both down, flops down onto the bed and pulls a battered-looking phone out. “Let me know when you need me again I guess.”
“You’re not sleepy?” John can barely keep his eyes open. He reaches out, plaintively, but Alex has his back turned.
“Night shift. And this place has free wifi, I’m not wasting that.” The brush of John’s wanting fingertips reaches his waist, just brushing the skin there. It makes Alex jump. John jerks his hand back like it’s been burned. “Oh. Did you want me to-”
“-You don’t have to, enjoy the wifi, I’ll sleep.”
“It’s ok, hey,” Alex reaches out, pulls John towards him until his head is in the man’s lap. Very carefully, Alex’s hand starts to work its way through John’s curls. “How about like this? You can sleep, I can catch up on twitter.”
“Sure.” John yawns again. This is nice. Having his hair petted, sated, laying in the lap of a cute boy that in some other world could have been his boyfriend.
“Poke me when you want round two,” Alex reminds him. “Like I said, you paid for all night.”
John huffs. “Sleep now.” Round two sounded appealing… in the distant future. In the morning, maybe.
“I feel bad taking all your money.” Alex says softly as John drifts off. “That was like, $100 worth of sex. Tops. I feel like you should be asking me for a refund or something.”
“Shh.” John hushes him. “Worth it for this.” For having someone there. Someone who, even briefly, sees him for what he was and doesn’t disapprove. With one last smile, he drifts off to sleep.