Chapter Text
Stiles bites his thumbnail, whispering a prayer under his breath—well, not a prayer more like a plea to his stupid fucking bank to give him a break, just this once. He hears the familiar low double beep.
“It’s declined,” the bored teenager says, snapping her gum.
Stiles’ stomach sinks. It’s not like the teen is judging him. Showing a complete lack of concern, she returns to scrolling through her phone, pointedly ignoring him once more.
“Can you try again?” he asks.
The teen huffs, pushing a few buttons, and then turns the card reader back to Stiles. He taps, holding his breath, and it makes the same sound.
“Declined.” She rolls her eyes. Stiles puts back the toilet paper even though he needs it. He’ll stop by the campus gym and steal a roll from the bathroom. It’s easy to rig the lock to open the casing. He’s done it before when he’s been in a pinch. What he needs is the bread and the noodles. It’s his dinner for the week.
“How about now?”
She points to the sign on the register. Minimum Transaction $5.
“Come on, please?” It’s not like he can go to the bank because he doesn’t meet their ATM minimum withdrawal fee, either, and there was no way he would waste his time or dignity standing in front of a teller asking for his balance of $7.26 on a Friday afternoon.
Looking around the bodega, he wonders what else he needs that will put him over five but under seven dollars. He grabs another pack of noodles. He’ll always need noodles.
The teen looks ready to murder him, but she does her job, and the transaction finally goes through.
On the way to the gym, he steps in a puddle and almost gets run over by a bicycle commuter, one of those asshole types who think they’re racing in the Tour de France every time they ride to and from their finance jobs.
“Fuck you!” He holds up his middle finger, but as usual, the guy doesn’t know he exists. Stiles stands in the middle of the sidewalk, one shoe soaked, his bag of bread and noodles in one hand and the other hand clenched tightly in a fist.
“Is this all you got!?” He screams at the sky. “Is this it?”
“Shut the fuck up!” A voice from a window above shouts back.
Gotta love the city. Stiles takes a deep breath and then crosses the park. He sees Isaac out of the corner of his eye. It’s been weeks since he heard from his friend, longer since he saw him. He thought he dropped out of school with the way he ignored his texts, but there he was, wearing a huge smile, rosy cheeks and a backpack full of books.
“Stiles!” He jogs to catch up, slapping his shoulder when he does. “Hey! Was that you screaming?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Stiles keeps walking, staring at his dry sneaker—the one with the hole near the toe. “Just livin’ the dream.”
“Everything all right?” Isaac asks.
“Nope. It’s not.” He doesn’t elaborate, and Isaac doesn’t ask him to. That’s not the relationship they have. They’re more like friends who politely ignore each other’s burdens. It’s not like talking will change their circumstances—both of them are so broke they don’t remind each other about it or talk about things like being MIA for weeks or why screaming at nobody, in particular, is cause for alarm. A shared need for appeasement, not pity, motivates their interwoven lives.
“Where you headed?”
“The gym,” Stiles says, letting him think he’s going to work out. Unlike at home, at least he can enjoy a hot shower there while he steals toilet paper. “My tuition is good for something, right?”
“I guess.” Isaac laughs. “I’m headed there, too. Mind if I join you?”
Stiles wants to tell him that, yes, he minds because Isaac’s cheerful smile clashes with Stiles’ desire for solitary misery. Normally, Isaac shares in his suffering, but the way he’s wearing a brightly patterned scarf around his neck with a new leather jacket that probably costs more than Stiles’ rent means Isaac has come into some good fortune. It’s hard not to be jealous, and maybe if he didn’t have the day he’s had, he would be happy for Isaac. The thought of Isaac abandoning him to grapple with misfortune on his own burns Stiles up inside.
“Where you been, man?” Stiles breaks their rule by asking, but he can’t help it. It’s too tempting. “Been sick?”
“No,” Isaac chuckles, opening the gym door for Stiles. “Not sick. Never felt better.”
Oh, good for you. Stiles mocks in his head. “I thought you dropped out or something. Haven’t seen you in classes.”
“I got permission to do some classes online. Been away for a bit.”
“Didn’t know you could do that.” They reach the locker room, and Stiles second-guesses the whole gym-shower thing. Considering he is wearing one wet sneaker, he does not possess the energy or the motivation to exercise or shower, contrary to Isaac’s assumption. He’ll just grab his toilet paper and be on his way.
Turning to offer Isaac an apology, Stiles is surprised to find Isaac already in the process of removing his clothing. With a gasp, Stiles’ eyes fly wide open, his mouth falling agape in shock at what he sees in front of him. Stiles isn’t a stranger to Isaac’s body. Neither have body issues. They’ve seen each other naked, even fooled around a few times before deciding they weren’t each other’s type. With both of them bottoms, they weren’t willing to give that up for casual sex, no matter how good the release felt. Stiles knows his body. He does not remember seeing what he’s seeing on Isaac’s body.
“What the fuck, man?” Stiles says. “What happened to you?”
Isaac’s cheeks flush red, and it travels down his throat, past a thick black cable chain around his neck, and down to his chest, where two black things poke out of his nipples.
“You got pierced?”
Isaac bites his bottom lip, smiling. “Oh, these?” He flicks the two black rings piercing each nipple. They twinkle as they catch the light. “You like them? Titanium and black diamonds.” He shrugs.
The last time Stiles saw Isaac, he was as broke as Stiles was. Both were always scrounging for spare subway change, and now the guy is wearing titanium piercings and a matching titanium chain around his neck. To top that image off, Stiles missed the giant red mark just above his collarbone.
“Is that a bite mark?”
Isaac laughs and shrugs. “My alpha gets a little rough.”
Stiles snorts, rolling his eyes. “Alpha? As in alpha dog? Alpha male?”
“Something like that.” Isaac opens the button on his jeans and strips down. His boxer briefs are tight, leaving nothing to the imagination, and unless Isaac had some recent surgery, there’s a significant bulge where there never was before. Isaac catches him looking at his cock.
He winks. “It’s a cage.”
Stiles’ eyes widen. “ A what?”
“A cock cage.” He lowers the band of his underwear so Stiles can see what he means. Trussed up in a metal contraption, Isaac’s cock is caged in titanium, just like everything else on his body. Stiles blushes, glancing away.
“My alpha likes to cage me when I’m not with him.”
“Oh, my god! What have you gotten yourself into?” Stiles holds his hands up to his ears. “No. Forget it. Stop. I don’t want to hear about it.”
Isaac faces him, hands on his hips. He’s wearing nothing but his underwear, his bruises, and his metal. “I think you do,” he says, his voice low and teasing. “I think you’re curious.”
“Nope. No.” Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t care what kind of kinky sex you’re having or who you’re selling your body to for money. Whoever he is must be a control freak to deny you access to your own cock.”
“He denies me nothing,” Isaac says, almost purring. “He gives me everything I want. And believe me, I want it.” His hand travels up to the red mark on his neck, and when Stiles follows his fingers, Isaac meets his gaze, his eyes hooded and hungry. “He provides for me, Stiles.”
“Provides? As in…”
“Yeah.” Isaac bites his lip. “Anything I want. He gets it for me. Clothes, food, jewelry…” He flicks his nipple piercing. “I just have to ask.”
He spies the new shoes at the bottom of Isaac’s locker, the designer underwear label, and the titanium ring on his ring finger.
“Did you get married?”
Isaac blushes again, smiling as he fiddles with the ring. “Something like that. I wanted my own token of commitment.”
“Congrats?” Stiles shakes his head, tuning out as Isaac sings the praises of his new man. It’s been about a month since the last time he saw Isaac, and now the guy is married and in some kind of BDSM relationship. Damn, the kid fell hard. Stiles hopes it’s consensual and that he wasn’t coerced into something because he needed to get out of his pitiful financial situation. If Isaac was as broke as Stiles, then the promise of money could lead to all kinds of temptations.
“You should come with me,” Isaac says.
“What?” Stiles thinks he heard wrong.
“I said," Isaac smiles, “you should come with me.”
“Oh, hell no! No, thank you. I am not getting roped into a perverted threesome with you and some guy who has control issues.”
“It’s not like that. My alpha doesn’t share,” Isaac says. “I meant The Club. You should come to The Club with me. It’s where I met him. If you’re short on cash, find yourself an alpha. He’ll take care of you.”
“The Club?” Stiles snorts. “That’s not ominous at all. The Club? Just The Club? Like… we’re all up in da Club?” It’s more awkward out loud than in his head. He regrets it immediately.
“Don’t be weird.”
“Yeah. You’re right. It’s just—Isaac, look at you! I mean. What the fuck, dude? You have a cage on your fucking cock! You’re going to a sex club and getting banged for money. I don’t—”
“It’s not like that,” Isaac snaps. “I love my alpha. He loves me. The Club is exclusive.”
“I’m sure it is.” Grabbing his bag of beige food, Stiles slams his locker shut. He’s had enough of this. He’ll get the toilet paper tomorrow and conserve what he has, anything to end this conversation.
“It changed my life,” Isaac says. “He changed my life.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not selling myself for money. I’ll set up an OnlyFans before I go to some sex club. That’s prostitution, Isaac. Even if it’s the most honest and oldest profession in the world, and should be a valid form of income, it’s still illegal in this state. And my dad would kill me.”
“I’m not a whore, Stiles,” Isaac says with fire in his voice. “It’s consensual. I want him, and he wants me. We’re committed to each other.” He presses on his neck. “It’s a bond that goes both ways. He takes care of me, and I take care of him. That’s all it is.”
“I’m happy for you, Isaac. I am. But it’s not for me.”
“How do you know?” He puts a hand on Stiles’ arm, holding him in place. “One night. That’s all I’m asking. Don’t make snap judgments until you experience it for yourself. It’s an exclusive safe place and I promise you, I promise you, no one will touch you unless you want them to. The owners would never allow it.”
“What? So, it’s like some kind of BDSM club?” Stiles snorts.
“Yes, and no. Some engage in those activities, and some don’t. There are all kinds of alphas who want all kinds of things.”
“You keep saying 'alpha,' and it makes me cringe. I know the type.” He throws his arm out around the locker room. “This place is filled with dicks like that who try to assert their manhoods everywhere. I hate guys like that. I thought you did too.”
“They’re not that kind of alpha. It’s just the term that’s used in the club. Think of it like a dom—”
“Yeah, I’m not into that either.” He cuts off Isaac.
“That’s why they’re called alphas, because not everyone is in a dom/sub relationship there.”
“So, then, what are you?”
Isaac blushes again. “They call me an omega. It means treasured.”
“Huh.” Stiles’ mind and body scream, red flag! Red flag! It sounds more like a cult than a sex club, especially the way Isaac is already so brainwashed.
“Just come tonight. One night.”
“I’m not exactly the clientele for a place like that.” Stiles laughs.
“They’ll be lining up for you,” Isaac says under his breath. “One night, and you’ll eat like a king. We’ll have dinner, some drinks if you want, and then we can leave. I promise I won’t leave your side—not unless you want me to. You’ll be safe.”
He looks down at the hole in his sneaker, his stained jeans and his bag of bread and noodles. He’s not meant for a place like that. “Thanks, but I don’t have proper clothing, and I can’t afford dinner and drinks.” Not to mention the cover charge to get inside—those places always have steep membership fees.
“You won’t pay for a thing. You’re my guest, so everything is free. Courtesy of my alpha, of course.”
“Well, I’m definitely not going then. I don’t want to owe anyone, Isaac. You know how I feel about that.” As much as a full meal is tempting, this is how men like Isaac’s alpha get poor guys like Stiles ensnared in their traps. Lavish meals created an expectation of reciprocation, and given Stiles’ financial constraints, he might feel compelled to repay the hospitality with his mouth or his ass.
“Come on, Stiles. I know you’re going through a tough time. I know what it’s like to survive on noodles.” Isaac taps the plastic bag. “It’s just a meal. That’s all it has to be. Let me treat you.”
Stiles bites his lip, feeling a warmth make its way up his cheeks. Never feeling embarrassed in front of Isaac, this is a new sensation. Knowing Isaac recognizes his struggles, the ones they never talk about, leaves him feeling vulnerable. He is fucking starving. He is fucking exhausted. And for once, he’d love to have his belly full of nutritious food that isn’t processed with too many words he doesn’t know how to pronounce, let alone spell.
“What else are you going to do tonight?” Isaac asks. “Go home, eat bread and noodles and jack off to some porn?”
“That’s a nicely planned night, I’ll have you know.”
“Come to the club and eat a Michelin Star meal, drink top-shelf liquor, and then jack off.”
“Argh. God! Fine. Okay. One night and you promise no freaky sex triangle?”
“Only if you ask nicely.” Isaac winks.
“You’re terrible.” Stiles shoves him.
Isaac grabs his gym gear. “We still working out, or…” He wriggles his eyebrows. “We could go to The Club now?”
“Dressed like this?” He holds up his pathetic plastic bag and points to his soaked pant leg.
“Good point. Let’s head to yours. I’ll call a car for us and help you pick something to wear.”
Wow. Times have changed. Isaac has a car and a driver. Damn. Okay, maybe this whole alpha thing isn’t as horrible as Stiles thinks. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Isaac as happy and glowing as he is. Bite marks, body modifications and all.