Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“That’s it, baby…yeah…fuck me, fuck me, keep fucking hyungie, baby, just like that.”

Changbin moaned, high and desperate like he’d been instructed, and slid his hands up Kitten’s thighs to his knees, pushing until they were pressed against his shoulders, folding the slighter man nearly in half as he drove into him feverishly.

“Hyung…hyungie, please.” Sliding Kitten’s legs over his shoulders, Changbin leaned down and planted his hands on either side of Kitten’s head, panting. “Please come, wanna feel you come, hyung.”

Kitten tightened around him, eyes rolling back for a moment, mouth hanging open. “Oh, fuck. Baby. Baby, please, hyung is so close. You’re fucking hyung so good, gonna make me come.”

Moaning again, Changbin picked up his pace, bottoming out every time with enough power to start driving Kitten up the bed, forcing him to brace both hands against the bedframe.

“Fuck! Fuck! God, like that, just like that, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fu-”

Kitten’s back arched up off the sheets so hard it kind of made Changbin’s spine ache, groaning so deeply it sounded like it was being dragged out of his soul as he covered himself in his own cum from chin to navel. He clenched down hard on Changbin’s cock, hard enough that it made it difficult for Changbin to fuck him through his orgasm, but it had been part of the request, and so he put his glutes into it and did exactly as he’d been asked.

As soon as he felt Kitten start to tense, right on the edge of overstimulation, he whimpered, moved down onto his elbows, buried his face in Kitten’s neck, buried his cock in Kitten’s ass, and came, biting down as hard on his client’s shoulder as he could without breaking skin. He shivered and whined, grinding against Kitten, and didn’t let up on his shoulder until Kitten started petting his hair gently. His cue.

“Thank you, hyung,” he breathed against the vicious red mark, and Kitten shuddered a little bit, his abused hole fluttering around Changbin’s softening cock.

“Mmm. Welcome, baby. Now get off me, you brat.”

Huffing, Changbin rolled away, lounging back against the sheets and stretching tentatively. Kitten’s scenes weren’t his most physically demanding, but his requests always had Changbin doing most of the work. A pillow prince – or a pillow pet, more often – Kitten loved scenarios where his partner just snapped after being teased for too long, a lot of clinging and frantic rutting. It was hot, make no mistake, but it was also a bit of a workout.

“Need me to do a check?” he asked as Kitten stood carefully, flexing his toes and testing his legs. He’d been practically origami’d more than once during his scenes, and Changbin knew how flexible he was, so that didn’t concern him, and he’d never gone with little enough prep for any tears or bleeding. It wasn’t even protocol to offer, technically, but Changbin liked to be accommodating, even with the clients he knew didn’t need or want it. It never hurt to ask, after all, so long as his clients hadn’t outright requested that he not ask, and if nothing else, this bite was a bit more savage than any of the others had been.

“No,” Kitten replied shortly, but not coldly or even rudely. Just matter-of-fact, which was how Kitten said everything when he spoke to Changbin, unless they were in-scene. “I’m fine.”

There was a brief moment of comfortable silence as Kitten stepped into the adjoining bathroom to clean up a little and Changbin pulled off the condom and tied it off. He grabbed his robe on his way back from throwing it away, lounging back on the bed and humming to himself, relishing in the afterglow a little bit.

Changbin – or Bunny, as his clients knew him – wasn’t the most popular Fantasy in God’s Menu (that was Mochi, a pretty, tiny little sprite of a man who couldn’t have time to eat or sleep with how often he was requested, Changbin thought), but he was popular enough that it paid his bills and then some. He was strong and confident, something that showed through in his profile, and most of his one-time requests came from people looking for a buff man to throw them around a little, rock their world for an hour or so, and then clean them up and send them on their way a little more bowlegged than they’d come in. And he enjoyed that, obviously – he could refuse any request he wanted, after all – but they weren’t his favorites.

His favorite clients were the ones who wanted something elaborate. A performance, if you will. He was a Leo at heart, and it showed, because he was born for the stage, even if the stage in question was a top-of-the-line mattress swathed in Egyptian cotton sheets set on a reinforced bedframe. Or a leather armchair. Or in the middle of a hardwood floor. A few times in a shower. The point was, Changbin loved to perform for his clients, loved to become whatever they asked him to be in order to satisfy their deepest desires, and Kitten was one of those clients.

Changbin wasn’t usually all that invested in his clients’ personal lives, but he had a few that he was desperately curious about, even if his professionalism would never let him actually ask the questions. Kitten was definitely one of those – he was always ‘hyung’ in his scenes, and Changbin was always ‘baby’, and it was just…it was the way he said it that let Changbin know he had a specific ‘baby’ in mind, one who called him ‘hyung’ out there in the real world beyond Changbin’s door.

It didn’t bother Changbin. It actually kind of felt good, knowing he was giving his clients something to satisfy that one, small, hungry part of themselves. It had never bothered him, the fact that he knew, somehow, that all of his most loyal regulars spent their scenes pretending he was someone else.

Well, except for one. Probably. He thought. It was hard to tell with that one.

Kitten wasn’t even the most obvious one. That was probably Honey, who liked to wrestle and slap and tell Changbin he hated him while he rode him and sometimes teared up a little afterwards like he’d gotten something painful and a little frightening out of his system. He talked to Changbin like he’d wronged him in a way that felt incredibly personal, something real he was dragging into Changbin’s room with him. And Sunny, he was kind of obvious, too, the way he’d leave great welts down Changbin’s ass and thighs with the switch and then fuck into him gently, cooing about punishments for misbehaviors Changbin hadn’t committed, but which sounded a lot like someone had.

He might worry sometimes that it wasn’t healthy for them , for his clients, that he was enabling them to cling to something they couldn’t have, or that he was somehow preventing them from moving on from whatever or whoever was driving them to him, but in the end, it wasn’t his job to counsel them. They paid him to have sex with them in the specific scenes they wanted, and he did his job. Changbin was to sex what bartenders were to booze. It wasn’t a bartender’s job to tell his patrons that they drank in his bar too often, and so long as they weren’t at immediate risk of hurting themselves or someone else, it wasn’t his job to tell them they had to stop. That’s what therapists were for.

He would bet a pretty penny that none of his clients were in therapy.

Kitten came out of the bathroom, smelling like Pink Peony – not one of Changbin’s favorite scents out of the toiletries the brothel sold, but a lot of his clients preferred the soft, delicate scent, so he kept some on hand in body wash and shampoo form – and fully dressed. His hair was damp and his expression was blank, but he offered Changbin a little nod. “You did a good job.”

Changbin grinned back. “I always do a good job.”

Rolling his eyes, Kitten moved to the door, slipping on his shoes and shouldering his duffel. “You’re insufferable.”

“Aww, whatever you say, Kitten .”

With a quiet ‘tsk’, Kitten was out the door, slinking back to whatever life he had beyond the threshold of God’s Menu. Huffing a long, satisfied sigh, Changbin eventually peeled himself off the bed and pressed the button to let an attendant know the room was ready to be cleaned.

The man who walked in wore the usual matte black half-mask of the staff who kept the place running, but it wasn’t exactly a secret-agent-level disguise, being that it only really covered his forehead and the bridge of his nose, and he recognized the guy immediately. Changbin’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline. “What are you doing working attendance, Mochi-sunbae?”

His fellow Fantasy shrugged, tossing his bangs out of his eyes. “They were short-staffed today – I think, like, ten people called in sick? I have the rest of the day off, so I figured I’d pitch in, keep the place from crumbling around our ears.”

“Oof.” Changbin unlocked his drawer and pulled out his phone, checking his schedule. “I don’t have anything else today, so unless I get a last-minute request, I can help out if they need people.”

“Ugh, thank you . There are six other rooms that need stripping and decon after yours.”

Changbin rolled his eyes. “It’s all the salarymen coming by after their shifts, they all come and go at the same time.”

Mochi hummed, grabbing the pillow to strip off the pillowcase. “Probably. I think it’s also a holiday, though, isn’t it?”

“No idea, I’m awful at keeping track. Not one of the big ones, anyway.” Stretching one more time, he made his way to the en suite. “Let me shower and I’ll be right out to help you.”

“Thanks, Bunny!”

Glancing around the bathroom, he noted the neat way Kitten had left the rows of bodywashes and shampoos in the shower, and the fact that he’d actually put his towel in the hamper where it belonged. If he’d used one of the toothbrushes, he’d put it in the rubbish like he ought to have, and didn’t leave toothpaste all over the sink. That right there, that was the kind of thing that made Changbin like him as a client. Consideration towards anyone in the service industry – any service industry – always rated someone higher in Changbin’s book.

He shook each bottle once he’d stepped into the shower, noting which ones he’d have to requisition refills for, and made another mental note that he would need a refill on condoms, as well, and probably dental dams. He wasn’t asked to use the dams as often, so he was never as good about keeping track of them. Casting that thought aside for later consideration, he picked out his favorite scents – no need to specialize for a request or go scent-free, since he was done for the day – and set about scrubbing himself down.

Dried off, teeth brushed, moisturized, and dressed, Changbin checked himself over in the mirror. Kitten never left marks – he preferred to be the one being marked – and his earlier client, Mousie, was the same way, but he’d also had a scene with Honey the night before that had left a neat red handprint across his face for a while afterwards. It had been a hard enough slap that it had almost startled Changbin clear out of the scene, but he was a professional, always, and simply incorporated it into his act, letting his eyes fill with tears, playing the part of the cowed and conquered. It was obvious that something had happened with whoever it was he so desperately wanted to hatefuck in his real life, but Changbin graciously hadn’t commented on it. Luckily, it hadn’t bruised – he wasn’t hugely fond of having to do a cover-up beat over a tender bruise – but Honey had taken one look at it when they were done and had fallen over himself to apologize.

“Slapping was part of the request,” Changbin had reminded him.

“It was too much,” Honey had groaned, head in his hands. “I always do too much.”

“You do exactly as much as you need to in order to be satisfied with your experience, Honey,” Changbin had reassured him, sitting beside him naked and sore, rubbing his back soothingly. “This is what you pay me for. If I wasn’t okay with it, I wouldn’t accept your requests. If it had bothered me just now, I would have safeworded.”

Honey had seemed moderately mollified by the time he’d left, but he had still seemed a little off-kilter.

His clients seriously needed to consider therapy, but he wasn’t paid to tell them that.

Satisfied that his face bore no lasting marks from Honey’s resoundingly thunderous slap, Changbin gathered up the trash and the laundry bag and met Mochi out in the room where he was just finishing up making the bed.

“Want me to do decon, or should I run these down to the Pit?”

“Go ahead and run those down,” Mochi offered, “and let Magdalene know you want to help out so she can get you clocked in as staff and kitted out.”

Nodding, Changbin tugged his shoes on and left his room.

It was a nondescript door in a long hallway of doors, the number 325 attached to it on a brass plaque, and a keycode lock above the handle. It had been his room since he’d started working for God’s Menu, its interior design tailored to his tastes and the needs of his clients, and he was rather fond of it, but he was glad he didn’t have to decontaminate it – the leather armchair alone would have been a nightmare, and while his en suite was made to offer a luxurious bathing experience, it was also full of fixtures that were fiddly and difficult to wipe down.

Taking the stairs down to the Pit at a decent clip, he threw the laundry bag into the rolling bin by the laundry room, giving Chae (his favorite of the Pit Crew) a little wave, before making his way through the winding halls towards the waste room. It was everyone’s least favorite room, and Changbin especially hated it because he was pretty sure something they used to keep the smell down triggered his allergies. Everyone who worked at God’s Menu had done shifts in the waste room. It wasn’t required, but it was something of a tradition, a way to remind the Fantasies that they needed to respect and appreciate the work the staff (especially the Pit Crew) put in to keep the place running smoothly. Rotating their way through all of the staff areas – attending, laundry, waste removal, admin, even the (ugh) data entry pool – was a point of pride for all of the Fantasies, and anyone who felt they were too good to do any of the “scut work” didn’t find themselves many allies or opportunities with the company.

Skipping back up the stairs after dropping off his trash, he burst through the ground floor door.

“Hey, Bunny,” Magdalene said from her place behind the reception desk, not even bothering to look up.

“Mags,” he replied. “I hear we’re short-staffed today?”

“Three call-outs in Pit, four on the floors, two admin, and two Fantasies, and Jongdae over at TMI says about half the department has called out, so any IT tickets we put in are going to take forever. I’ve had to cancel on four clients today, probably more tomorrow, if Bluebell and Tarot are still out sick.” She sighed, rubbing her temples and staring at her computer like it might save her from the mess that was flu season. “I keep sending out reminders for everyone to get their jabs on time, and this is why.”

“Well, I don’t know much about computers,” Changbin admitted, “but I know the Pit like the back of my hand and I’ve got plenty of attending experience, too. I can help Mochi with the rooms he’s got right now, then head down to see who in the Pit needs the extra hands the most.”

Hopefully not waste disposal, he thought privately, but he’d help where he was needed.

“See, this is why I love you, Bun,” Magdalene sighed, sending him a pitifully grateful look. “It’s the workers like you that make me regret opening this place a little less.”

“Hey, service is kind of my thing,” he replied with a cheeky wink.

“Ha ha.” Clicking around a bit, she confirmed he was clocked in as staff and handed him a clean black mask. “Stop by housekeeping to pick up your clean cart and you’re good to go.”

“I know the routine.” He slipped on the mask and shot her a grin. “Try not to drown while I’m busy, Mags.”

“ Ugh .”

“Order anything you like from God’s Menu – we offer a full-course meal designed to satisfy your every craving.”

The way God’s Menu worked meant that even with supply expenses, Changbin got paid more than fairly. He made enough to pay off his student loans for a theater degree he was sure his professors would say he was misusing, enough to pay for a car far nicer than he’d ever dreamed of, enough to rent a spacious two-bedroom apartment with a loft, a city view, and good hardwood floors. He made enough that he could splurge on takeout and a personal trainer, enough that he owned a couple pairs of designer shoes, even if it took a little saving up. He made enough to tuck a good amount away every month in a retirement account.

Sex work in all its forms, if one carefully cultivated their career, could be lucrative these days, what with it being legal and well-regulated for the last fifty years or so, and a reputable brothel like God’s Menu could afford to pay its staff a handsome wage and its sex workers a hefty percentage of both one-time guest fees and membership fees, and everyone from the top down got good benefits and six weeks paid leave every year. No one who worked full-time at any of the higher-end brothels ever had to worry about money so much that they felt they couldn’t turn down clients.

Granted, there were definitely plenty of places that were less than reputable, and indie sex workers of all kinds had a much harder time making ends meet sometimes, but Changbin had gotten very lucky that he had what God’s Menu had been looking for and that they’d scouted him when they had.

He hadn’t started off there – he’d started off as a cam boy, actually, and had worked as an indie call boy for a decent chunk of change when he could get the jobs, but his big break had been acing the audition at a place called The Back Door, one of parent company JYP’s seedier “strip-n-sucks”, as they were derogatorily named. He’d started off dancing in the cage along the wall called the Bunny Hutch with a group of other newbies before eventually working his way up to the main stage. It was where he’d gotten the first iteration of his professional name – Big Bunny, to distinguish him from the other Back Door Bunnies – and where he’d developed his reputation as a versatile, accommodating, and professionally thorough fuck in the private showrooms. When he’d been scouted by Magdalene to be one of her new Fantasies when she’d gotten successful enough to start hiring more for God’s Menu, he’d happily taken the offer and never looked back.

The Back Door hadn’t been an awful place to work, per se – he didn’t feel any sort of glee when financial issues eventually forced it to close its doors, both back and front – and it had taught him a lot, but it had been gruelling work with strict rules, and the pay and benefits weren’t quite good enough to outweigh the grind (literal and figurative). There wasn’t the same kind of vetting of clients that a brothel of God’s Menu’s caliber had, and there were far fewer allowances made for turning down clients so long as they weren’t outright unsafe to work with. It was hardly the worst sex club out there, but it wasn’t good enough for Changbin to stick around. He knew what he was worth.

All of this to say, Changbin had the rare privilege of being financially secure, more than secure, even. He was working his way up to being well-off, and he knew very well that he’d never need to work any other job to keep the life he’d grown accustomed to.

Which was probably why Jeongguk – Brat Bunny, as he’d known him when the older man was his senior at The Back Door, before they’d become friends of a sort – was listening to him talk about looking for a second job with a dramatically incredulous expression on his boyish face.

“Why would you get another job?” He gestured around the apartment vaguely, eyes tracking Changbin as he attempted to successfully crack an egg from his seat at the breakfast bar. “You don’t need one.”

“What I need,” Changbin countered, shoulders slumping as the egg just sort of imploded in his hand, “is some kind of human interaction that doesn’t involve bodily fluids and bruise paste.”

“So join a club? Do a sport? Go to a music festival? Get a life, maybe?” Jeongguk folded his arms on the countertop, his tattoos standing out starkly against the clean white quartz countertop. “You’re one of the highest-earning Fantasies in the building, Binnie, why on earth would you bother with a second job?”

He paused in the process of picking the tiny bits of shell out of the bowl and cocked his head. “I just feel…disconnected? It’s hard, you know? When everyone around you doesn’t even tell you their full name. You can’t really make connections, even with the other employees. I don’t know. I just feel like I’m missing something.”

“And you think waiting tables or selling books is going to help you find it?” Jeongguk shook his head, amused. “I know you like to be of service, Bin, but damn.”

“Shut up and crack these eggs, you layabout,” Changbin grumbled, pushing the bowl and carton towards his friend.

“Besides,” Jeongguk said, absently cracking eggs like a pro, “if you want a real human connection, you could just ‘connect’ with that hot guy across the hall you keep simping for.”

Changbin flushed hotly. “You’re the worst, hyung. Why do I put up with you?”

“I have a big dick.”

Changbin levelled him with a withering look. “That only works on people who haven’t seen it.”

“Do you want these eggs cracked or not?”

Changbin sat on the edge of the bed in his room at God’s Menu, staring at the inside of the mask strapped to his face. It was a familiar feeling now, after the long months of wearing it once a week. Made of papier-mache with a soft, sweat-wicking fabric lining on the inside, it was designed to look like a full-face Venetian Carnivale mask, save for its plain white surface and the fact that no eye holes had been left, giving it the appearance of the face of someone in repose, eyes closed. It was a very particular mask, one most Fantasies had probably never needed to have made, molded specially to fit his face without making the details of his own features apparent on the outer surface. It was one of his favorite things to wear at work, simply because of the reason behind it.

Or rather, because of the person who requested it.

Changbin’s fingers tapped a syncopated rhythm on the sheets and his leg bounced rapidly in counterpoint. He wasn’t nervous, though from his tense posture and fidgeting, he supposed he probably looked somewhat anxious. But no, he was excited.

Tonight he had a request to fulfill from Tenerezza.

Tenerezza was…well. He was a little different.

He’d first started making requests with Changbin about ten months prior, once every week since his first time there, and Changbin wasn’t entirely sure why, because what Tenerezza wanted was a sort of boyfriend experience with a bit of soft domination, and boyfriending wasn’t exactly Changbin’s specialty. Not that it really mattered, since there wasn’t anything outside of his hard limits that Changbin wasn’t willing to get very good at, very quickly, but when Tenerezza was looking through profiles, he would have had the option to filter for that, which would have pulled up several profiles of Fantasies who did specialize in that kind of thing. Marshmallow came to mind, or Little Lamb, both of whom were very well-rated by their clients and were especially adept at the very thing Tenerezza wanted. He wasn’t sure what it had been about his own profile that had captured this particular client’s attention, but whatever it was, he was thankful for it.

The only thing Changbin was sure of was that it hadn’t been about his looks. Tenerezza was very strict about what God’s Menu referred to as “Blind Spot” protocol. When a client requested BliS, they got complete anonymity on both sides. Neither ever saw the other’s face or heard their voice – hence, the sightless mask. Selecting that during his sign-in, whether it was as a guest or as a member, Tenerezza would have been given access to the profiles without the usual pictures, videos, or voice memos that accompanied them to help the client pick the Fantasy that appealed to them the most. Changbin wasn’t sure if it was the listed experience, the ratings he’d gotten over the years, or the long list of things he’s willing to do in a scene and the relatively shorter list of limits, but whatever it was, Tenerezza had been submitting requests to Changbin like clockwork for almost a year. He blocked off several hours every Friday night, making sure there was no rushing what he wanted to do.

Changbin had never anticipated a client’s scenes like he did Tenerezza’s.

There was a familiar chime – one specific to this client, to let Changbin know the right person was outside. The door clicked open, and footsteps moved inside, the latch catching and the lock whirring when it shut behind him. A breath of time passed, and then the person slipped off what sounded like heavy boots. It was a familiar sound that had Changbin nearly vibrating in his skin.

Socked feet slipped almost soundlessly across the hardwood floor to the bed, and the mattress dipped as Tenerezza sat down, a line of heat along Changbin’s side as he leaned in close, wrapping his arms around Changbin’s shoulders and holding him for a moment, forehead pressed to Changbin’s temple. He breathed out what sounded like a long-suffering sigh, and relaxed against Changbin by increments as they sat there in silence.

After what felt like far too short a time, Tenerezza sat back, cupping Changbin’s masked cheek and turned his face towards himself. Changbin felt the slight pressure on the forehead of the mask, a lingering kiss that transferred just enough warmth and gentleness to leave him aching. Another kiss was pressed just below one shuttered eye, and a final kiss on the mask’s mouth, firm and long enough that Changbin could almost imagine he felt it penetrate to his skin.

Tenerezza pulled away, and Changbin felt the mattress shift as he crawled into the bed, back to the wall, and Changbin let himself be tugged down, facing him. He curled into his client’s body, letting himself be made small, his mind hazily drifting a bit as he felt Tenerezza’s hand smooth over his shoulder, his back, down to his hip, feeling the materials of his carefully-selected outfit.

‘Clothed comfortably like you’re relaxing at home,’ this request, like all the requests before it, said. ‘No accessories, bare face underneath.’

Tenerezza was very obviously a tactile client, one who lingered on soft things, touching and nuzzling and rubbing material between his fingers or against his face. With that in mind, Changbin always wore his softest clothes – today he’d chosen a pretty, pastel green cashmere sweater that hung loose even on his bulky frame, the cuffs of the sleeves hanging down over his fingers, and he’d contrasted that texture with a pair of satiny, pale gray sleep shorts. He’d chosen his fuzzy socks with extra care to make sure they were cute without being too obviously so – gray like the shorts with pale yellow daisies embroidered on them – and had left off any jewelry or make-up, even though his face couldn’t even be seen. Tenerezza knew that Changbin had left his face bare underneath the mask, and that was the important part.

Tenerezza had rucked up the hem of Changbin’s sweater, resting his warm palm against his hip and stroking his thumb against his skin just above the waistband of the pajama shorts, another satisfied sigh escaping him, ruffling Changbin’s hair. He pressed another kiss to the top of Changbin’s head, tugging him closer, and then let his hand drift further up to stroke up and down Changbin’s side, petting him slowly.

‘I just want a warm, comforting armful for a little while to start,’ the request for today was. ‘Just let me feel you.’

So Changbin lay lax and content in his arms, letting himself go limp and enjoy the feeling for a while. Depending on the week, this part of the encounter might be the longest, gentle touching and cuddling, sweet and a bit sensual, but not exactly sexual or with any real intent behind it. Those weeks, it could take almost the entire allotted time slot for Tenerezza to touch his cock or slowly finger him open, and he usually didn’t even bother with penetration, content to just get Changbin off with his hands and a litany of contented hums and sighs against his skin. Some weeks were a little more playful, Tenerezza teasing him with more intent, suckling the faintest marks into his thighs and smearing kisses over his stomach. Those weeks, Tenerezza liked to put his mouth on Changbin more than anything, sucking him off, crooking those long fingers into his prostate, making him whine and squirm, huffing little breathless laughs against the inner crease of his hip.

This week was neither of those weeks. This week had been, if Changbin was prone to making guesses about his client’s personal lives, a bad week. Bad weeks didn’t worry Changbin especially – not for himself, anyway – because Tenerezza was never anything but sweet to him. In fact, sometimes, bad weeks were Changbin’s favorites.

He could tell it had been a bad week, even if the request itself hadn’t pinged all of his alarm bells, by the way Tenerezza had been so tense against him from the beginning, how long it had taken him to relax his body into Changbin’s. He could tell by the way he held him a little tighter than he otherwise would, seeking comfort, almost needy.

He could tell it was a bad week, because Tenerezza had only been petting and holding him for half an hour or so before he was pushing Changbin onto his back – still gentle, always gentle – and covering him with his body, already beginning to bite dark bruises into his collarbone where the neckline of the sweater dipped low. His hands were already pushing the sweater up under Changbin’s armpits so that he could lavish Changbin’s chest and stomach with kisses and nips and touches so reverent it made Changbin want to cry. His cock was already half-hard against Changbin’s leg as he slid himself down to set his teeth into Changbin’s waist, just above his hip, and suckled languidly.

Bad weeks, for whatever reason, meant he intended to worship Changbin.

Tenerezza’s hands carefully guided Changbin to sit up, slid up under the sweater to pull it off, careful as always of the mask. Clever fingers threaded through his hair to neaten it a little, and one of those little breathless huffs of laughter puffed against his ear when the static from the cashmere made it stand up a little. A nose pressed just under his ear, right at the edge of his mask, and a heated kiss pressed to his pulse point before he was being moved back down onto his back.

Tenerezza always took his time, no matter what kind of week it was, and this week was no different. He set about taking Changbin apart with his mouth and his hands like it was his sworn duty, soft moans and little gasps escaping him like it was the first time, like he was discovering Changbin’s body all over again. Changbin could feel him against his hip now, already fully hard, so hard it had to be painful, but he didn’t even move to rut against Changbin, not even in an absent-minded way, like he hadn’t even noticed his own erection. He just took his time pressing his tongue into the dip between Changbin’s collarbones, pressing his thumbs against his nipples in slow, firm circles, moving low to wiggle both arms underneath Changbin, bracing both palms against the small of his back and lifting him until the spot just below his bellybutton met Tenerezza’s teeth.

Changbin could do nothing but gasp, writhing under the attention, revelling in the way his client was treating their scene like a religious experience. He let himself be rolled over carefully, Tenerezza blanketing him, one hand running through his hair soothingly as his teeth worried at the back of Changbin’s neck, sunk into his shoulders, his plush lips dragging down his spine while his hands slipped down his sides to dip his fingertips into the waistband of Changbin’s sleep shorts. He couldn’t help but mirror Tenerezza’s gasp when they were slowly pulled down over his ass, tucked just underneath like they were underlining the plush curve of his backside.

Tenerezza sighed like he’d been given the greatest pleasure of all, just seeing Changbin’s bare ass. It would have been funny if Changbin wasn’t so dizzy from the onslaught of body worship. Strong hands gripped his cheeks, thumbs dipping in to spread him open, and if Changbin had any thoughts about his client’s enthusiasm being amusing, they instantly fled when he felt warm breath against his exposed hole.

‘Clean thoroughly, but no need for prep prior,’ the request had said. ‘I plan to eat well tonight.’

The first press of Tenerezza’s tongue to his opening had Changbin melting into the mattress, little high-pitched whimpers escaping him, and Tenerezza answered them with a sweet little moan. He pressed his face between Changbin’s cheeks and ate him out like he was savoring a decadent dessert – slowly, but enthusiastically. It was downright hedonistic, the way he dug his fingers into the meat of Changbin’s ass and dragged his tongue flatly over his taint, up over his hole, hot and wet and almost rough by Tenerezza’s usual standards. It was followed up by the softest, sweetest probing, barely breaching the clenching ring of muscle with the tip of his tongue, and Changbin knew he was going to be face-down-ass-up for a while.

Once he was whining, shuddering under Tenerezza’s tongue, his shorts were tugged down further, and that clever mouth left him as they were pulled completely off. Those strong hands were on his hips, on his leaking cock, readjusting so that it was tucked up against his belly, and then one palm flattened against the small of his back and pushed down once, twice. A signal that he wanted Changbin to move, to grind against the bed. He did, tentative, not really wanting to get off just yet because he knew they had hours to go, but the pressure was firm and insistent, guiding him to move languidly, but steadily, and he knew it was going to be an overstimulation kind of night. He panted against the mask, sweat already gathering along his spine, as the pleasure built, his hands clenching into fists against the sheets as he rocked to the rhythm Tenerezza set. He could feel the tingling in his limbs starting already, and his voice came out in a little ‘ah’ with every thrust.

Tenerezza sat back, and Changbin knew he was simply watching him hump the bed for a moment. He would think the other man was stroking himself, maybe, if he were anyone else, but aside from the times he actually penetrated Changbin – which were few and far between – he couldn’t recall a single time his client had bothered touching his own cock. He knew that he was just sitting back, watching, taking his pleasure in Changbin’s pleasure.

Then his hands were back on Changbin’s ass, spreading him open carefully as he dove back in, plunging his tongue in as deeply as he could. Changbin sobbed, hips hitching up to meet him, but the hands moved back to his hips, pushing him to keep grinding, spreading his hole open on his tongue with slow, deep thrusts. Changbin shuddered, reaching one hand down to grip Tenerezza’s wrist, to warn him that he wasn’t going to last, but the other man simply twisted out of Changbin’s grasp to clasp his hand instead, laying his other arm flat across the small of Changbin’s back to pin him to the bed, lapping and sucking at his rim before he speared his tongue back in.

Changbin rocked against the mattress, gasping desperately for air, fully aware that he was tearing up underneath the mask. The tingling was spreading, his limbs almost buzzing with it, and he choked out another sob as he closed in on his orgasm. When he came suddenly with a broken little cry, it felt like sparklers lighting up under his skin, and his hips jerked helplessly, grinding his cock into the mattress with heady desperation, almost bucking the body off of him with the intensity of it.

Tenerezza licked him through it, leaving his hole warm and wet and loose, and it wasn’t until Changbin was shivering and whining pleadingly that he pulled away, reclaiming his hand from Changbin’s now-lax grip to smooth it down his sweat-slick spine as a comfort. A gentle kiss was pressed to the back of his head, and Tenerezza slid off to the slide and rolled Changbin to face away from him until he was spooning him properly.

His clothing was soft, too, like Changbin’s had been, and he wondered privately if it was because he enjoyed soft things, or if it was for Changbin’s comfort, knowing how sensitive Changbin’s skin could be. Either way, he appreciated it, pressing back against Tenerezza and sighing deeply. The other man was warm against him from where his face was pressed between Changbin’s shoulderblades to where his shins lined up against Changbin’s calves. He was wrapped up in his arms, one hand petting his sticky, cum-coated belly soothingly, the other hand brushing up and down his sternum, skating almost teasingly over the hickies he’d left there.

Tenerezza hummed, satisfied for the moment, his chest rumbling against Changbin’s back, and squeezed him a little bit tighter. Changbin leaned into it, almost purring, his heart rate slowly returning to…well, nearly normal. The other man was absently rubbing the tops of his feet against the soles of Changbin’s fuzzy socks, and he spared a moment to wonder if he should feel awkward that he was still wearing them before deciding that was far too advanced an emotional state for how drained he was.

Slowly, Tenerezza’s gentle petting grew firmer, the little kisses he was ghosting across Changbin’s back more purposeful. His cock was still hard, hot and twitching against the swell of Changbin’s ass, but as always, he seemed to ignore it entirely, choosing instead to focus on cupping and squeezing Changbin’s pecs and toying with his nipples, brushing his thumbs back and forth against them lightly. He nibbled along Changbin’s neck, carefully leading him back into that warm, tingling arousal.

Humming a voiceless little tune, Tenerezza let one hand drift down, tracing a finger around Changbin’s bellybutton before ringing his fingers loosely around the base of his valiantly twitching cock. He flinched a little, whining, but Tenerezza shushed him, placing big, smacking, wet kisses over his shoulder to placate him. He didn’t try to stroke him, just held him gently, other hand still drifting over one nipple, his whole body seeming to curl around Changbin like he wanted to envelope him entirely.

After a few minutes, he started to stroke his thumb along the side of Changbin’s shaft, minutely, licking and nibbling at his ear as he did so. Changbin could feel his cock beginning to fill again, slower than before, and Tenerezza cooed in his ear encouragingly, kissing the shell of his ear as he gradually lengthened his strokes, almost massaging the base of Changbin’s cock as it hardened.

He could feel Tenerezza pressing his face against his shoulderblade, mouthing at it like he wanted to say something, but as per the protocol, whatever it was, he kept it in his throat. Changbin couldn’t help but try to follow the shape his lips made against his skin, to no avail. He tucked it away in his brain, his heart beginning to pound again, trying to turn his focus back to what was currently happening.

Tenerezza paused, releasing his cock and leaning up and over Changbin to reach for the bedside table. The pop of a cap told him he’d grabbed the lube, and he relaxed further into the other man’s arms. The hand returned to his cock, slick with lube, and the other rested lightly against his throat, unthreatening yet possessive.

The wet sound of the fist that was now stroking him firmly and steadily from base to tip was the only sound in the room for a long while, Changbin letting himself float in the sensation as Tenerezza melted into him, content. It wasn’t until he was rocking up into the wet, tight grip that the other man released him again, moving his slicked-up hand between them to delve between his cheeks and prod at his still-sensitive hole.

Changbin moaned softly, reaching up to press the hand around his throat a little tighter, tipping his head back a little. He wondered if this was how a cello felt, caught between a loving grip on its neck and a skilled hand working its body, drawing out resonant, vibrating sounds that left a tight feeling in the gut. He huffed a laugh, smiling against the mask, and he felt Tenerezza smile against his shoulder.

Then he slipped one finger into Changbin, strong and deep, and Changbin wasn’t laughing anymore. He keened, rutting back against the finger, his messy cock twitching, the tip rubbing almost painfully against his belly. Tenerezza cooed again, his dry hand sliding down from his neck to brush his fingertips over the head of Changbin’s cock and feather-light down the underside, teasing. Changbin gasped, his body rocking between those too-clever hands, lost in oversensitive pleasure-pain.

A second finger joined the first, spreading him open, dripping lube down one asscheek, and Changbin was panting again like an animal, his hips moving mindlessly, trying to chase the fleeting pressure that danced along his cock, to take the fingers inside him as deeply as he could. Tenerezza hooked his fingers towards himself, then flexed them back, bumping them against Changbin’s prostate, and his cock jumped against Tenerezza’s palm and began to leak precome again.

He knew he was probably drooling, his mouth open against the inside of the mask, and he was definitely starting to actually cry, but the concept of caring about either of those things was so far from his mind it was laughable. He floated in a warm, hazy sea of arousal, content to let Tenerezza do whatever he wanted so long as he didn’t stop touching him. It was overwhelming, wave after wave of tingling, shuddering, limb-twitching pleasure, drowning him, and he drowned happily.

He couldn’t be sure when Tenerezza added a third finger, but he felt it, the other man contenting himself with stroking Changbin’s insides, wriggling his fingers teasingly, pressing soothing kisses to the back of his neck murmuring wordless encouragement. He let the man do as he liked, moving breathlessly against his touch as he floated. He had no idea how much time had passed before Tenerezza was carefully slipping his fingers out, but it had to have been hours. Maybe days.

The sound of clothing rustling brought back enough of Changbin’s awareness to understand that Tenerezza was pushing down his pants, lifting his shirt so that his taut, bare stomach pressed against Changbin’s back, his cock slotting between Changbin’s thighs like it belonged there. As usual, Tenerezza didn’t bother thrusting, barely twitched, and the only drag was when he leaned up to reach for the lube again. Changbin could tell by the sound as he pulled back to slick himself up with a strained little groan that he was using way more than he needed to, that it was going to be very wet and very messy, and he reached back to spread his ass eagerly.

With a little ‘tsk’, Tenerezza took his hand and pulled it away, holding it gently like he might break it as he used his other hand to guide his cock between Changbin’s cheeks to slip smoothly inside of him raw. The slide was slick, one continuous motion that seated him deeply, his pelvis tight against Changbin’s ass. Once he was buried to the hilt, he let go of Changbin’s hand and wrapped his arms around him again, pulling him back to rest against his chest.

He didn’t move his hips, content to simply warm his cock inside Changbin, nuzzling his nose into his hair and petting his cleaner hand along his ribs. The other moved down again after a while, encircling Changbin’s aching cock and stroking lazily, his grip loose and easy with lube. Gasping, Changbin started to rock again, fucking himself back on Tenerezza’s cock weakly, unable to still himself as the other man pleasured him. The sparkling feeling built steadily, slower than before, but stronger, somehow. He was whining again, weak little mewling sounds, and Tenerezza rewarded him with sweet little kisses on his shoulder, over and over again. He would pause sometimes, mouthing soundless, shapeless words against Changbin’s skin again, before going back to kissing him, and Changbin was definitely sobbing now, tears soaking into the fabric of the mask.

His orgasm was slow this time, rolling over him like an unstoppable tide, the arm around his waist holding tight to stop him grinding as he squeezed down on Tenerezza’s cock. It was as if, in that moment, his entire world had narrowed down to the feeling of the hard, hot length inside him and the shimmering firecrackers sparking wildly through his limbs, prickling his skin from the inside. He had a vague sensation of a hand on his cock, stroking him steadily through the peak, a knuckle pressing lightly against the underside of the head, letting his cum ooze out over gentle fingers.

The room faded back in around him, dim and warm and a little stuffy, the smell of skin and sweat and sex filtering through first, followed by the sounds of Tenerezza’s hand still slicking slowly along Changbin’s softening cock. He didn’t even have the strength to twitch away from the painful sensation of it, but his weak little whine had the other man easing his hand away, rubbing at Changbin’s belly apologetically. The thick cock in his ass was almost too much, stretching him wide as his hole fluttered against it a few more times. He could hear the man behind him breathing slowly, deliberately, warm and wet against the back of Changbin’s neck as he hugged him close. The cock inside of him twitched once, hard, and Changbin was pretty sure Tenerezza was leaking inside of him. Was sure he could feel it, as sensitive as he was at that moment.

A slow, sensuous kiss against the side of Changbin’s neck distracted him just enough from the feel of Tenerezza sliding out of him, leaving him gaping and clenching around nothing as the other man rustled around, readjusting his clothing to cover himself again. When he pressed back against Changbin, the hard line of his cock felt like a brand against Changbin’s ass.

He hadn’t come. He never did.

He spooned up against Changbin snugly, warm and soft and indulgent save for the throbbing length that pulsed against Changbin’s skin occasionally. He pet him, hummed happily, almost cutely, and stuck soft little kisses against Changbin’s hairline as he calmed.

He was dozing contentedly when the tone sounded to indicate they were nearing the end of Tenerezza’s allotted time for the night, and Changbin kind of hated that stupid alarm for the way it brought a depressing amount of that early tension back into Tenerezza’s grasp on him. The man sighed, pressed a quick kiss to Changbin’s curing hair, and peeled himself off of him, a hand to his chest in a silent instruction to stay put.

He heard him padding quietly to the bathroom, the sound of a cabinet being raided and a cloth being wet down a familiar sign of the end of their encounter. When Tenerezza returned to the bed, he knelt beside it like he always did, and began to tenderly wipe Changbin down from his ears to his toes, back and front. He peeled off the soft socks covered in daisies, dug his thumbs into the soles of his feet, massaged his legs and down his arms to his hands. He had chosen one of Changbin’s softest cloths so that it wasn’t too rough when he dragged it almost feather-light over his sensitive cock before carefully cleaning the lube from between his cheeks. He left achingly sweet kisses on the round of Changbin’s ankles, the insides of his knees, the curve of his waist, up the dip between his pecs to the hollow of his throat. Worshipping him in reverse.

Finally, as the final warning tone sounded, he pressed a kiss to the mouth of the mask, one underneath one of the sightless eyes, and a final, lingering, almost longing one against its forehead that left a soothing warmth behind.

Changbin laid there, listening to Tenerezza pull on his boots, lacing them almost mechanically. There was a moment that felt like a hesitation before the door was unlatching and then closing almost silently behind him.

Reaching up, Changbin pulled off the mask and looked over at the bedside table, where a fresh cloth for his face was folded neatly. He grabbed it, shaking it out, and rubbed it too roughly over his skin, obliterating the sweat and saliva and tears. He laid for a long moment, willing himself to enjoy the afterglow like he usually did, refusing to sink into the stupidest melancholy a Fantasy could allow themselves to feel. A bereftness after a client leaves, like it was anything more than a job well done.

Fantasies didn’t connect with their clients on a normal, human level. It was somewhere between far deeper and far shallower than the way a person normally connected with another. It was a fine line between allowing themselves to fall into whatever character the client needed them to be and maintaining a professional distance. But with this client…

The problem was that Tenerezza was different . Different because he never asked for a character. Different because his scenes weren’t scenes at all. They weren’t a performance, they couldn’t be, because that’s not what the client asked for, what he needed. All he ever requested was that Changbin be there, let him hold on for a while, let him make Changbin feel good, to relax into the warmth and sweetness of offering pleasure to another and asking for nothing in return. Almost like he was the Fantasy, and Changbin was the client. It was always real, far too real, with Tenerezza.

He was different…and it was quickly becoming a problem.

Changbin was so drained when he returned home hours later, physically, mentally, and emotionally, that he just kind of leaned against the door, forehead pressed against the wood, pouting down at the keypad like it might magically open the door by itself so he wouldn’t have to figure out how to work his fingers again. He’d stripped and decontaminated his own room, foolishly unwilling to let anyone else in just yet, which hadn’t helped his exhaustion. That, and being fully and thoroughly scrubbed down himself left him ready to just sleep . Possibly for a week. It was past two in the morning. The soft clothing in his duffel felt heavier than it had any right to, and he was honestly contemplating just napping there in front of his apartment when the door across the hall clicked open.

“Are you planning to just sleep standing up, or were you going to go in?” a quiet, teasing voice asked.

Because of course, he needed more emotional damage tonight.

Gathering his energy, he thumped his head against the door and sighed theatrically. “If you’re just going to lurk there and make fun of me, hyung, I might.”

A little snort of laughter sent a frisson of giddiness up his tired spine, and he straightened up to face his neighbor across the way.

Chan had been living in the apartment across from him since before he’d moved in a year or so ago – he had, in fact, helped him carry up boxes when he spotted him struggling in the parking lot – and Changbin might have a sort of crush on him, which was unfortunate.

Chan was a hell of a man, in Changbin’s opinion. A poet with several published collections to his name, Chan was talented at most things he decided he was interested in. Sports, judging by the trophies Changbin has seen the few times he’d been over, and music, by his own admission – he composed pieces for piano in his spare time, apparently. He was kind, which was apparent to anyone who met him. He was a bit of a goof, painfully adorable, and he flirted unrepentantly like he had no idea he was doing it. He probably didn’t.

He was also disgustingly hot, with intense, dark eyes, waves of dark hair that had been getting long lately, a strong nose and an almost sinfully pretty cupid’s bow enhancing his already perfect mouth. His shoulders were broad, his body sleek but well-muscled and impressively defined, not at all what Changbin would have expected from an artsy type. The first time he’d seen him in a tank top, arms folded while he spoke to a neighbor by the mailboxes, Changbin had almost choked on his own tongue.

So yeah, he had a bit of a thing for Chan.

Unfortunately, Chan was straight. And also taken.

The only time Changbin had dared to ask if he had anyone back in Australia, Chan’s face had gone all soft and his dimples had dug deep with his wide smile, and he’d sighed longingly before launching into an ode to his “gorgeous girl” back home, who he missed desperately and visited as often as he could. When Changbin, a little broken-hearted, had asked why she didn’t come to stay here with Chan, the man had replied sadly that she felt comfortable and safe where she was, and he loved her too much to put her through a stressful move when Australia was her home.

It was a weird feeling, to start falling in love with someone at the same time they were actively crushing your heart into a pulp. Certainly unpleasant.

Chan was sort of staring at him now, concern beginning to overtake his amusement, the tilt of his head causing one of his silvery hoop earrings to swing a little. The shine of it felt like all Changbin could think about for a long moment, before Chan’s voice startled him a little more awake.

“You okay, Binnie?”

Binnie. Binnie. He was always Binnie to Chan, ever since the older man had asked him to call him ‘hyung’. It was like a little cocktail stick poking him in the heart every time, not really painful, but amusingly annoying.

“Binnie?”

A strong hand reached out to grasp his arm, and Changbin, startled, stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet, unwittingly yanking Chan with him as he fell back against his door with a bang. Chan smacked into him, chest to chest, with a grunt that was more startled than pained. He barely managed to avoid headbutting Changbin on accident, the hand that wasn’t clutching at Changbin’s sleeve coming up to smack against the door next to the younger man’s head. Changbin’s duffel hit the ground with a muffled thump.

They were pressed together from shoulder to hip, legs slotted together, and he could feel Chan’s breath against his cheek, harsh with surprise. He was way too close, and way too warm, and Changbin was not mentally present enough to deal with all of this normally, so he just sort of sagged, letting Chan’s weight press him into the door, and Chan just kind of stood there, leaning into Changbin, blinking at him like he’d never seen him before in his life.

His head tilted, and for a hot second Changbin thought he might actually kiss him, right there in the hallway at two-thirty in the morning, with his stupid pretty lips and a girlfriend in Australia, like a lunatic . But then he was pushing himself off the door, mouth parting slightly, letting go of Changbin’s sleeve like it had burned him, and Changbin finally had the wherewithal to jab his code into the keypad, snatch his duffel up off the carpet, and duck into his apartment.

“‘Night, hyung,” he mumbled, shutting the door in Chan’s bewildered face.

He was going to sleep for two weeks, just to be safe.