Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Yeosang!” Wooyoung sing-songs the man’s name as he slips out of his bedroom, having been waiting all morning for the blond to emerge to the kitchen for breakfast. “I have a question for you.”

His voice is soft and sweet, turning up the cuteness on his best friend to soften the weight of the question he’s going to ask. 

“You already know my answer,” Yeosang says, mouth muffled by a spoon full of cereal. “Groceries.” 

“Uh-What?” Wooyoung asks, voice falling as a look of confusion flashes across his face. “How–Uh–How did you know?”

Yeosang takes his time, chewing his food before he drops his spoon back in the half-eaten bowl, splashing a bit of milk onto his old t-shirt he uses as sleepwear. Wooyoung waits patiently with a bashful pout. Yeosang doesn’t look amused to have been bothered so early on a Saturday morning with this recurring question. 

“Every month you ask me the same question,” Yeosang tells him. “Rent or groceries. It’s the same story–you make enough to cover one or the other, and every time I tell you the same thing. I’ll cover your rent if you get groceries. Your cooking is way better than mine.” 

“I don’t ask you every month,” Wooyoung murmurs. “Things have just been dragging at work. Tips haven’t been that great. No one wants to go to Enigma on a Friday night when the manager refuses to play any music made after 2013.” 

Yeosang snorts. “Don’t blame ‘em.”

Wooyoung sends him a dark glare that has the older boy following up that comment with a quick apology. 

“Thanks, I guess,” Wooyoung says, sighing heavily. 

The bar has lost its touch; the excitement that drew Wooyoung in when he was a student himself. The bar he works at has been losing customers steadily for a while. Even some of his loyal customers have been talking about this new place that just opened up. Fever.  

It’s new enough to still have its kinks to iron out, but from what he’s heard, it’s the happenin’ place to be. Not that he would know. Not that he’d ever know. He’s a slave to his current bar. All he does is eat, drink, and sleep Enigma. And get progressively shittier tips. 

It hadn’t always been this bad. He had gotten the job as a bartender at Enigma while he was in college. That’s where he met Yeosang, a fellow student who was juggling university life, an internship, and a part time job. The night he met him was the night Yeosang got fired from his part-time position, and he had come to the bar to drink his sorrows away–which was very entertaining for Wooyoung. 

But Yeosang kept coming back, claiming Wooyoung made the best Sazerac he’s ever had, and maybe Yeosang liked his company. And maybe Wooyoung liked his company too. Eventually Yeosang became such a common face at Enigma that Wooyoung stopped charging him–although if his boss asks, he has no idea what you’re talking about. And eventually the pair got so close that when Wooyoung offhandedly complained his roommate was absolute ass to live with, Yeosang suggested moving in with him, citing his current roommate graduating and moving out within the coming months.

Wooyoung jumped at the opportunity and they’d been inseparable ever since. The two got along well and made ends meet. Until more clubs and bars started opening up nearby, hoping to make bank off the university students that frequented the area, looking for a fun night out after a long week of classes to blow off steam. 

The owner just didn’t know how to respond to the competition. The new clubs were marketing to the younger crowd of students, while his boss was, well, stuck in 2013. There’s a clear reason why things have slowed down and yet no one can convince management to make the necessary changes to bring back the customers. 

And Wooyoung has spent over 4 years there, he feels awful even thinking about needing a second job, leaving altogether, or worse, working for another club. But his bank account is suffering and so is Yeosang, even if he says he’s got it. 

Yeosang graduated and got a decent job, enough to not need Wooyoung as a roommate, but they’d already gotten attached by then. The older male always brushes Wooyoung off when he says he’ll pay him back. He claims it’s to make things even, considering Wooyoung would spot him free drinks all through his final two years of university. But Yeosang had definitely repaid his debt. Now it’s just a lousy excuse they both can’t keep believing. 

“I’ve got work tonight,” Wooyoung reminds Yeosang, who is still munching on his breakfast. “Are you planning to drop by?”

“Not tonight,” Yeosang replies. “Got a date, and I’d be stupid to bring them anywhere near you.” 

“Oh!” Wooyoung says excitedly, and the regret of letting Wooyoung know his evening plans is evident on his roommate’s face. “Who is he? You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone!” 

“I’m not,” the other male replies, rolling his eyes. “It’s a first date. He’s taking me out for dinner.” 

“Respectable,” Wooyoung comments, pursing his lips together. “Tell me about it tomorrow, yeah? Unless you’re still up when I get back.” 

Wooyoung’s tone is suggestive and Yeosang’s nose twitches in disgust. “I don’t put out on a first date,” Yeosang reminds him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Wooyoung teases. “I’m going to go take a nap before I have to get up and get ready. Tonight’s going to be a long night.” 

“Perfect,” Yeosang says with a mischievous smile and Wooyoung’s eyes widen, head snapping back in the other male’s direction. Yeosang bursts into laughter, almost dropping his bowl in the process. “It’s a joke! Go the fuck back to sleep.” 

Wooyoung squints his eyes at his roommate before reaching out for his doorknob. As much as he’d love to sit and dig information out of Yeosang he does need to get a few extra hours of sleep. He’ll get back at him some other time. 

-

It’s getting late. The night has been painfully slow. The bar closes in 45 minutes. And some dude in a suit just walked in. 

Wooyoung tries not to let his annoyance shine through as he musters a fake smile, but he’s fucking exhausted. When the bar is busier, time flies much faster. He doesn’t have time to even think about how exhausted he is or how much his feet hurt, he’s much too busy chatting up customers and making drinks for them. 

But it’s a Saturday night and the place has been basically dead all night, at least by his standards. Yeah, they had a decent crowd of people who have come and gone by now, moving on to the clubs to end their night dancing until 4am. But it’s nearing 2 and he’s been counting down the minutes. 

Until this dude showed up, dark hair brushed back, all black suit, patent leather shoes on, and as much as Wooyoung would love to flirt with him in hopes of getting a decent tip, he’d much rather just go the fuck home. 

“What can I get for you?” Wooyoung says smoothly, cracking a flirty smile, and up close he gets a better look at the man’s features. 

His dark hair is only dark on the top. Underneath is a layer of blond that falls down the back of his neck, and although mullets have a bit of a stigma, the man absolutely rocks it. The hairstyle is similar to Wooyoung’s own. Minus the mullet. His own dark bangs frame his face, mixing with the blond he’s dyed underneath. 

Yeosang says he looks a bit like an oreo, and Wooyoung replied thanks, I know I look like a snack just to get under his roommate’s skin. 

But this man doesn’t look like just a snack. He’s the whole damn meal. Broad shoulders, beautiful tapered waist. His legs are long, and he has sharp eyes and an angular jaw. Even if it’s nearing 2am, he still looks completely put together and strikingly handsome. 

Maybe Wooyoung will flirt with him after all. 

“Negroni,” the man says, not even sparing Wooyoung a glance. 

Wooyoung is a little put off by the lack of interest, but he guesses it could be worse. He could be belligerently drunk from bar hopping all night and vomit all over the floor, or make pass after failed, inappropriate pass at Wooyoung. 

It could definitely be worse. 

He makes the drink without pestering the man who is staring at his phone with any unwanted small talk. The room is near empty by now, a few more people having left for the night. The music has been turned down, alerting Wooyoung that it’s time to wind down this evening.

“Here you go,” he says, passing the glass over. 

The man says a quick thank-you, but is cut off by the man’s cell phone ringing loudly. The suit-clad man sets the drink on the bar before picking up the call, and Wooyoung decides to busy himself with tidying things up. If he can get a few quick tasks done he can be home before 3. 

“Please tell me you have good news.”

Wooyoung is wiping down an area of the bar, ears attuned to the only voice speaking within an audible distance. It’s one thing he loves about the job, hearing the gossip and people watching. It’s part of his job, to keep people safe, make sure no one gets too drunk or does something that could end up with someone getting hurt, but he also enjoys hearing some juicy gossip from an astute looking man in a suit. They always have the most scandalous stories. 

“For fuck’s sake,” the man says, placing his head in his hands. “It’s Saturday–scratch that, Sunday. We need to have another bartender by tomorrow. Hongjoong can’t do it all by himself again.” 

Wooyoung’s ears perked up the second he mentioned a bartender, and on short notice. That’s an interesting tidbit of information. A bar owner coming to another bar on a Saturday night. A bit unusual in his opinion. 

“I don’t know where the fuck we’re going to find one,” the man says, pressing his fingers to his temples. “I’ll pay triple–Yunho, we need more reliable hands around the club.”

Now Wooyoung is really interested. As much as he shouldn’t be, as much as the little voice in his head tells him he shouldn’t be interested in another bartending job, that he shouldn’t be entertaining this idea, especially while on the goddamn clock for his current employer, the idea of getting paid triple for one night of work is too good to pass up. 

He could afford to make rent this month–all of it. He could pay Yeosang back for some of the rent he’s covered for him in the past. He could return all the small favors Yeosang does, like buying him takeout, or that time he paid to have his phone screen fixed because he couldn’t afford it and he could hardly use it. 

Plus, it was a Monday. Wooyoung doesn’t work Mondays. He tends to work Wednesdays to Sundays, which means he could potentially get away with picking up a gig on Monday and no one would know anything of it. 

“I’ll talk to Hongjoong about it,” the man says with a sullen sigh. “I’ll get back to you later.” 

Wooyoung straightens up when the man hangs up, placing his phone face down on the bar. He finally picks up the drink, taking a swig of it before he stares down at it, lost in what Wooyoung can only assume is thought about the phone call he has just had. 

The bartender makes his way over to him, putting on another pleasant smile. 

“Everything good?” Wooyoung asks as he would with any customer. “The drink up to your liking?” 

“Yeah,” the man says, glancing at Wooyoung. “I’m good, thanks.” 

Wooyoung wipes his hands on his apron, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he builds the courage. He has to be direct, but fast–and quiet. If his boss comes out while he’s chatting about possibly taking on another job he’ll get chewed out. 

“I–Ah–I couldn’t help overhearing,” Wooyoung begins, trying not to sound like a nosey bitch. “But you sound like you’re in need of a bartender on short notice–for Monday night?”

The man looks at him–really looks at him. His eyes carefully look the bartender up and down, scrutinizing every aspect of Wooyoung under the intense, cat-like eyes. Wooyoung suddenly feels a bit self conscious, and he slightly straightens, trying to appear more confident than he feels as those dark eyes rake over his form. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know one?” the man asks, quirking a brow, and Wooyoung swallows as the man toys with him. 

“I-I was j-just–”

The man chuckles, a deep and low chuckle from his chest. Wooyoung forces a smile, feeling extremely out of his comfort zone and he totally regrets approaching the man. 

“Isn’t it a bit unprofessional to be approaching another bar owner about working while on the job,” the man says, smirking as he awaits Wooyoung’s reply. 

“W-Well, yes,” Wooyoung stutters. “But I work Wednesday’s to Sundays and I’m tight on cash and you’re tight on bartenders, so I thought maybe throwing it out there wouldn’t hurt.” 

He studies him hard one last time, as if really considering what Wooyoung says. The bartender hopes that he either agrees or never steps foot in this establishment again, because he doesn’t think he can bear another tedious stare from the handsome man before him. He looks at Wooyoung as if he’s looking straight through him, and it has Wooyoung feeling overwhelmingly vulnerable. 

“I’m not sure you fit the bill,” the man replies, lifting the drink to take another sip. “But you do make a good drink, I must say.” 

Wooyoung furrows his brows. What the fuck does he mean? What bill is there to fit? He’s the help–the bartender. He just wears a neutral suit and makes whatever the people ask for. Keeps them from drinking too much and causing a scene. He’s done it for 4 fucking years. He even complimented his drink! 

“I’ve been doing this for years,” Wooyoung blurts, and he doesn’t even know why. He doesn’t understand why he feels the need to prove himself to this man, but he does. “I have 4 years of experience. I’m available. And you need me.” 

“I don’t think you understand,” the man replies, and Wooyoung’s tired of him giving vague excuses. 

“Then explain it to me,” Wooyoung replies, shifting on his feet to a more comfortable position with his hands on his hips. 

“Monday night is a closed party,” the man explains, and Wooyoung’s no stranger to those. “But not just any party. A swingers club, on the VIP floor. Starts around 7, ends around 10-11, whenever they finish up.” 

“Piece of cake,” Wooyoung replies. He has no idea what a swingers club is but a 3-4 hour VIP party is child’s play. He assumes it’s swing dancing, which might explain why it only lasts 3-4 hours. It does look like a tiring dance. Add alcohol and things could get a little crazy, but nothing Wooyoung can’t handle. 

The man lifts his brows in surprise. Wooyoung remains neutral. He doesn’t want the man to know just how determined he is. He has to make it seem effortless–for his dignity's sake. 

“Well,” the man says, reaching into his blazer pocket. “If you think you’re up for the gig, you do have the experience, so I guess it’s worth a shot.”

He takes out a small business card. He hands it over to Wooyoung, who takes it and looks down at it, reading the curved letters that spell out Fever and have the contact information for a Choi San. The owner. This man is the owner. 

“Monday night, be there by 6. Hongjoong will let you in and get you situated, show you the ropes and tell you how the night will go,” the man says, smiling at him.

“Sounds like a plan, uh–Mr. Choi, is it?” Wooyoung says, looking between the card in his hand at the man in front of him.

“Call me San,” he–San–replies. “I’ll be seeing you…”

“Wooyoung,” he replies, smiling brightly. “Jung Wooyoung.”

“I’ll see you then, Jung Wooyoung. Wear your best suit,” San says. “And don’t be late.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Wooyoung replies, smiling confidently. 

San stands, taking one last sip of his drink quickly before he sets the glass back on the hardwood bar top. Wooyoung takes it in his hand, quickly looking at his watch to check the time. It’s now very close to 2am. The man is thankfully taking his leave early instead of making Wooyoung shoo him out. At least he’s punctual. 

“Night, Wooyoung,” San throws one last goodbye before he’s grabbing his phone and heading out the door into the night. 

The bartender glances around the place, making sure everyone is out before he goes to the door and locks it. A few hours and triple the pay? For a close VIP party for a bunch of dancers? Easy fucking money. 

And if all goes well, maybe Wooyoung can make it a regular side gig for himself. 

-

“Why are you getting all dressed up?” 

Wooyoung looks into his mirror, seeing Yeosang standing at his door, peeking into his room where the younger of the two men is getting dressed for his new gig. He had forgotten to tell Yeosang, too engrossed in hearing all about Yeosang’s date Saturday night that it completely slipped his mind. 

“I have a job tonight,” Wooyoung says, folding down the collar of his shirt. “You know that new club? Fever? The owner came into the bar the other night and was talking about needing help for a VIP party. Some swingers club or something gathers there on Monday nights.” 

“S-Swingers?” 

Wooyoung’s forehead wrinkles slightly as he looks at Yeosang, confused as to why his roommate reacted so strangely to a group of dancers. 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung replies, holding eye contact with Yeosang in the mirror. 

“Y-You do know what th-they are, right?” his roommate asks and Wooyoung rolls his eyes. 

“They dance,” Wooyoung says matter of factly, and Yeosang doesn’t look so convinced. 

“Are you sure?” Yeosang asks. “Did you get confirmation on exactly what group of swingers you would be bartending for.” 

“Why would I have to?” Wooyoung questions, tilting his head. “What else would they be?”

“Oh, Wooyoung,” Yeosang says, his voice exasperated and Wooyoung feels like he’s being spoken to like an inexperienced child when he’s 25. He is neither a child nor inexperienced.  

Yeosang comes into his room and takes a seat on the edge of Wooyoung’s bed. The bartender turns around, looking down at Yeosang who gives him a sorrowful look. 

“There’s another kind of swinger,” Yeosang says, choosing his words carefully. “It’s not…they’re not exactly… How do I say this?”

“Just spit it out,” Wooyoung demands, because Yeosang is wasting his time. He has to be there in less than an hour, and he still has to style his hair! 

“It’s a sex party,” Yeosang says, and that was the last thing he thought would come out of the older man’s mouth. 

“San invited me to a sex party!” 

“You’re working, not engaging in it,” Yeosang replies, rolling his eyes. “I mean–I guess you’re not going to be engaging in anything. I hope.” 

He freezes, completely in shock. His eyes stare down at Yeosang, but he isn’t really focused on him. All he can do is internally scream because the owner, San, had probably been right when he said I’m not sure you fit the bill. Because he most certainly doesn’t fit the sex party bill. 

And he had been so confident, agreeing to the damn job without getting further information on what swinger San was talking about. He’s not a noob when it comes to sex, but a room full of strangers, all having sex, in front of him, as he’s supposed to work a job, and just be cool with it? That’s a lot. And he has to be there in an hour. He doesn’t have the time to emotionally prepare. 

And San will be there. He’s technically his boss, which means San won’t be working it, per se. Does that mean he’s partaking? Is he going to see his boss’ dick? Wooyoung’s mind races with all the possibilities of how the night will unfold and suddenly he’s met with a lot of images of what his new boss’ dick looks like. 

San was so right when he said Wooyoung doesn’t fit the bill. But now it’s too late to call out and San knows where he works and he’s so fucked. He just hopes no ones tries to fuck him tonight–oh no. How is he supposed to interact with customers flirting and naked? 

“What do they do at these sex parties?” Wooyoung finds himself asking. If it’s going to be a sex party he wants to know what he’s getting into, so that when he arrives he can at least pretend he was aware of what was about to go down. 

“Have sex, I guess?” Yeosang says, shrugging. “I’m not a swinger–I don’t have any experience.” 

“But you at least know something,” Wooyoung pleads, raising his hands to his face because he’s so fucked he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Google it,” Yeosang replies.

“You Google it and give me the cliff notes,” Wooyoung says, turning back to his appearance in the mirror. “I still have to get ready. 

“You’re going to go?” Yeosang asks, shocked Wooyoung’s even entertaining the night further. 

“Y-Yeah,” the bartender replies, picking up the styling products from his dresser to go to town on his hair. “I don’t have confirmation on which swingers it is, so there’s still a chance it’s not a sex party.”

“You’re more optimistic than me,” Yeosang says, pulling out his phone to Google as much information as he can to prepare his roommate for what’s to come. 

And as Yeosang spews random tidbits of information, searching forums for anecdotal stories, Wooyoung finds himself silently praying it would be a bunch of drunk dancers and not a group of middle-aged married couples taking their clothes off. 

-

“Ah, so you’re Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung stands on the street, the sun finally starting to set for the evening. He managed to make it on time, and not have a mental breakdown while Yeosang told him of all the possibilities he might encounter at his new job. 

San had been right, this man, around Wooyoung’s height, blond and handsome, had been waiting for him, and was now holding the door open for him to enter the club. He’s wearing a suit, but he lacks the shirt or vest underneath and has replaced it with a golden body chain that Wooyoung tries not to stare at too openly. 

“I’m Hongjoong,” the blond says, locking the door back behind him. “Come on, we don’t have much time, and you need some work.” 

Hongjoong ushers him through the club that’s empty, taking him to a winding staircase that leads to the second floor, the VIP level, Wooyoung presumes. And he is correct in that assumption. 

When they enter the second floor the atmosphere is immediately darker. The first floor had been a more open space, a bar lining one way with a large, open dance floor and to the farthest back corner there were a few tables scattered about. The walls were painted a mid-toned blue, which would give the space a packed, cozy feel when the lights were turned off and the room packed with people. 

But upstairs is much different. The theme is red and black, and the dance floor is much smaller. The space is filled with leather booths and leather chairs. The bar is in the same area it was downstairs, tucked away against a wall, and lined with black leather barstools. 

The accents in the room are all gold. Gold lamps, gold rimmed glassware, gold silverware and gold tools. Wooyoung is getting the feeling that he definitely isn’t going to be serving dancers tonight. The dance floor is much to small on the VIP floor and the whole vibe screams sex party. In his humble opinion–not that he’d know the vibes of a sex party well. 

“How are those booths going, babe?” Hongjoong calls, and Wooyoung almost jumps when a body stands up from behind one of the black leather booths from where it was originally hidden. 

It’s a surprisingly bare body. The man lacks a shirt and is only wearing a pair of tight dress pants that do amazing things for his ass and Wooyoung needs to ask where he got them so he can buy a pair too. If it's the only thing he gets out of tonight, he hopes it's the brand of dress pants this man’s wearing. 

He’s taller than Wooyoung and Hongjoong when he straightens. His hair is a pretty silver gray that reflects beautifully under the ambiance of the red ceiling lights that dot between the normal ones, giving the room a sultry feel. The man is taking off a pair of gloves, and his eyes take in Wooyoung’s form that only feels more and more out of place as the night goes on. 

“They're all clean,” the man replies. “Is this who San hired?”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong answers as the silver haired male comes to his side, the two now looking at him with equally hard gazes. 

Wooyoung feels small, and his hands grow a bit clammy. Fuck, he shouldn't have come. He’ll stick out like a sore thumb and probably ruin the night for everyone the second someone pops their fly open. 

“Lose the shirt,” Hongjoong suddenly says, and Wooyoung can only blink. “Keep the vest and jacket. Do you have any jewelry you can lend him, love?”

“All I have is silver, but it's the best we have for tonight,” the other says, stepping away to the bar to bend behind it and take out a small duffel bag. 

“It’ll do for tonight,” the blond says, giving Wooyoung one last glance. “We’ll have to spruce up the hair a bit, don't you think?”

“I’ll take care of it,” the shirtless man says, approaching with two chains in his hands, raising them expectantly to Wooyoung’s neck. “Aren't you going to change?”

The bartender blinks at him, clammy hands rising to unbutton his blazer and vest, but his fingers are shaking and he swallows uncomfortably with the stranger so close to him as he undresses. 

“Oh, pardon my manners,” the silver haired man says, finally giving Wooyoung a smile instead of a once over. “I’m Seonghwa. I take care of the guests' needs and cleaning. I apologize for not introducing myself sooner.”

“Th-That's okay,” Wooyoung replies. “I’m Wooyoung…but you already knew that– fuck.”

Seonghwa chuckles and it lightens the mood just a smidge. Wooyoung carefully removes his dress shirt, trying not to be self conscious of his body because, fuck if Seonghwa wasn't hand crafted by the fucking gods. Wooyoung’s body pales in comparison, but Seonghwa doesn't draw attention to it, just waits patiently with a smile and Hongjoong has already moved over to the bar. 

“There we go!” Seonghwa says once the vest and jacket are back on. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Turn around and I’ll put this on.”

He does as he’s told, spinning on his heels to let the taller male place the silver chains around his neck. He glances over to Hongjoong, who is wiping down the bar in preparation for the night. 

“Jongho will be here with the food any minute,” Hongjoong reminds them. “Fix him up quickly, we haven't got all night.” 

“You can't rush these things,” Seonghwa says, turning Wooyoung back around with a tug on the arm. “Now what to do with your hair.”

The shirtless man runs his fingers through it, shaking it out and giving it a bit more volume for a messy look. Once he's satisfied with the hair he takes a step back, giving Wooyoung a confident smile as he admires his work. 

“Perfect, the guests are going to love you,” Seonghwa says, moving back to the bar.

He accepts a blazer Hongjoong passes over to him and puts it on, leaving the front undone and his beautiful body on display. He leans over the bar, Hongjoong meeting him in the middle as the pair engage in a soft kiss, and Wooyoung feels uncomfortable as he stands to the side watching. But he realizes this simple kiss is probably the least of his worries, and the thought terrifies him, shaking him to his very core.

“I’ll be downstairs. See you later, love,” Seonghwa says, pulling away from Hongjoong. He walks past Wooyoung, giving him one more word of encouragement. “You’ll do well, just follow Hongjoong’s lead. Let us know if you're uncomfortable, ‘kay?” 

Wooyoung nods, and with that, Seonghwa is headed back down the stairs and Wooyoung finds himself alone with Hongjoong, only a half hour out from the start of the event. 

He goes to the bar, trying to familiarize himself with the area he’s going to be working in. Hongjoong leads the way, pointing out as much as he can and helping Wooyoung get his bearings in the new location. 

“Have you ever worked at a party like this?” Hongjoong asks, stocking the garnishes while Wooyoung restocks the ice bin with fresh ice for the night. 

Wooyoung stills, hands unmoving as his mind wonders how he’s supposed to answer that. Is he supposed to be honest? Is he supposed to lie? Should he be honest and say he’s scared shitless? Should he even try to pretend he can make it through the night without popping a boner or having a mental breakdown? 

A short laugh pulls him out of his thoughts. “I think I have my answer,” Hongjoong says and Wooyoung just wants to melt into the floor and be mopped away at the end of the night. 

“I-Is it that obvious?” Wooyoung questions, nervous eyes seeking out Hongjoong’s. 

“Pretty much,” the blond teases and Wooyoung finds himself pouting. “But it’ll be fine. Just focus on the drinks. I’ll keep my eyes on the guests so you don’t have to.” 

“Focus on the drinks,” Wooyoung repeats quietly to himself. “Just focus on the drinks.”

“Unless you want to take a look,” Hongjoong adds, voice suggestive and Wooyoung’s wide eyes look up at his, meeting his teasing gaze. He blushes, wanting nothing more than to be that puddle of goo again. 

“I-I–”

“Food’s here!” 

Wooyoung is thankfully saved from his unintelligible stuttering by a man entering holding large platters of finger foods. He quickly rounds the bar to help, taking the platters from the man as he sets them down. He and Hongjoong unwrap them, and Hongjoong guides him through strategically placing them around certain tables in the room for the guests to snack on. 

“I’m Jongho,” the man says, tossing the plastic bag that once held the platters in the trash. “I work security detail. You must be the new bartender.” 

“Wooyoung,” he says, sending him a small smile as he tries to situate the finger foods that had gotten a little crazy on the way over to the club. 

“Nice to meet you,” Jongho replies, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m glad Hongjoong has some help around here. He’s been bending over backwards for the past few weeks to keep the guests happy.” 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Hongjoong reminds him. “But you made it right on time. Seonghwa just buzzed me–the first couple has arrived.” 

Wooyoung hurriedly wipes his hands and Jongho quickly moves to his position near the top of the stairs, soothing his clothes to appear professional. Hongjoong walks over holding various golden baskets that appear to be small centerpieces of tables. 

“Here, help me set these out,” the blond says, and Wooyoung takes a few into his hand before he releases a startled noise when he sees their contents. 

They’re filled with various brands of condoms and lubes, more than Wooyoung has ever seen in one place. Hongjoong sets one basket on a low table centered between a leather couch and matching chairs before he shoots Wooyoung a disapproving look. 

“I said help me,” Hongjoong repeats, moving to another area to strategically place a basket. “We don’t have all night, Seonghwa will send them up in a few minutes.” 

Wooyoung snaps out of his stupor, opting to get rid of the x-rated contents in his hands so he isn’t walked in on by clients blubbering in confusion as he stares at all the various lubes and condom materials in his hands. Now that would be embarrassing. 

“D-Do we always have to have so many kinds?” Wooyoung asks and he begins placing the baskets down. 

“Some people have preferences and allergies,” Hongjoong explains, hurriedly moving about the room. “Some bring their own, but we try to be as inclusive as possible.” 

Once the baskets are placed out, Wooyoung can hear the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs. The three men in the room exchange a quick glance before they straighten up at their stations, ready to start the night. 

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Kim,” Hongjoong says in greeting as the pair approach the bar. “What can I start you off with tonight?” 

It’s easy enough.

At least for the first hour or so. 

Couples trickle in, they approach the bar, most knowing each other and know Hongjoong well enough to make small talk. They chat quietly with each other, enjoying the finger foods and the alcohol, and with time they begin to move further into the club, plopping down in booths or in the chairs littered around the room. 

It feels like any other night. They vary in age from older couples to pretty young ones–couples Wooyoung can only assume are a few years older than himself. Some linger near the bar, ordering more drinks and Wooyoung is happy that there’s people who keep him busy, so he doesn’t have to focus on anything obscene happening. 

Until about the hour and a half mark, and things start to get a bit…X-rated. 

He has been spending the night with his head down, focused on whatever drink he’s been asked to make and in the moments where things lull he focuses on cleaning his tools or glassware, wiping down the bar, checking on the amounts of liquors, wines, and mixers they have left–anything to keep him preoccupied. It’s worked surprisingly well. Hongjoong does most of the talking and easily takes over conversation when Wooyoung begins stuttering, and soft music is playing, muffling any inappropriate conversation from reaching his ears and keeps any wet kissing noises to a minimum. 

But keeping busy and soft music can’t hide everything. 

It starts with a loud gasp, deep breathing, maybe a subtle moan every now and then. Wooyoung can ignore that. He can keep his mind busy enough to shut that shit out. But when they turn into moaning, slapping of skin, and wet squelching sounds it becomes just a bit more difficult to keep his eyes from darting up every now and then. 

And every time he regrets it. 

He’s not physically attracted to any of these people, most of them are older, and for lack of a better word, have more mature bodies, and he is most certainly gay. Very gay. A flaming homosexual. And the only homosexual thing happening is maybe a few women making out or placing their mouths on other parts of each other’s bodies. Each time he accidentally glances up a cold shiver runs down his spine and he’s quickly averting his gaze and trying to control his grimacing facial expressions. 

The first time it happens Hongjoong chuckles quietly beside him, and whispers a quick reminder that they’re here for each other, not him, and that as long as he can keep it together everything will be fine. It helps. Most of the party goers are too preoccupied with each other to notice him, and even if they aren’t getting busy themselves, the ones not engaging are watching intently or chatting up with other couples who are all here for the same thing. 

It’s not nearly as bad as he thought it would be. It’s considerably more x-rated than he could’ve ever prepared for–that’s for sure–but dealing with it isn’t as hard as he thought. Hongjoong had been right, just keep busy, let him manage the crowd, and remember these people don’t give two shits about him. He’s the help, he isn’t a guest and he is not up for grabs. 

“So how’s the newbie doing?” 

Wooyoung recognizes the voice and looks up, seeing San wearing in a familiar suit, but this time with nothing underneath, except what looks like a harness, and Wooyoung tries his hardest not to look down at the exposed skin wrapped in leather. 

He’s sitting at the bar, perched on a leather stool a few seats away from the nearest patron with the most sinful smirk on his face as he looks at Wooyoung’s appearance. The bartender tries to remain focused on keeping eye contact with his boss, but it’s difficult when out of the corner of his eye he can see a woman mounting a man in a leather seat behind him. 

San seems to see the discomfort written on Wooyoung’s face and turns around, taking in the sight of a woman, spread eagle on top of another man, one she didn’t come with, while she moans wantonly, bouncing heavily on the man’s lap. When he turns back around, San looks completely unfazed, and instead, humored by the fact that Wooyoung is the exact opposite.

“He cleans up nice, doesn’t he?” Hongjoong says, and Wooyoung can hear the smirk in his voice. 

“He does,” San replies, looking down at the exposed skin of Wooyoung’s chest. 

He feels the self-consciousness coming through again, and he swallows, trying to fake his confidence again. “Thank you,” is all he says before going back to cleaning a few gold rimmed glasses. 

“Sorry I’m late,” San apologizes. “Got caught up with work and then got lost in conversation with Seonghwa. He’ll be up soon. I doubt any more stragglers will come in considering the state the party is already in.” 

“No worries,” Hongjoong says, already pulling out a glass. “You want your usual?” 

“You know what I like,” San replies and Hongjoong is already whipping him up a drink. 

Once it’s done it’s passed over to the owner, who takes a sip before he stands from his seat, glass in hand, and begins mingling with the guests. 

As much as Wooyoung doesn’t want to look about the room, he’s curious on how San interacts with them, especially during their current predicaments. But San is a natural. He doesn’t impose on anyone lost too deeply in their partner, but some pause the act to smile up at the man and exchange a few short words, a laugh or two, and he’s off to the next, letting them get back to business. 

Some of the still clothed members of the party shake his hand, and a few give him a light hug. Wooyoung wonders how long this has been going on, and if San has ever engaged in any x-rated acts with the couples. 

He isn’t sure what he expects when San finishes making his rounds, but he watches carefully, stealing a glance now and then until San takes a seat in a leather chair, placing his glass on the table beside it, and crosses his legs to get comfortable. He watches as San’s eyes wander around the party, and he sips his glass slowly, as if he’s enjoying the show himself. 

And Wooyoung finds it sensual. A little too sensual. And he should not be having any of these thoughts about his boss. Even if he’s just a one-off boss, he’s still his boss and he’s not used to having a boss possibly fuck someone in front of him. Especially when San is young, handsome, and totally Wooyoung’s type. 

He can’t say management at Enigma compares in the slightest to Fever. 

And as a woman approaches San, dropping down comfortably onto his lap, he finally pulls his eyes away. He most certainly doesn’t want to witness whatever that is. Thankfully the couple who has been watching from the bar asks for another drink, and he finally has something to distract himself with. 

But he feels eyes on him. The overwhelming, uncomfortable feeling when you think you’re being watched. It hadn’t happened all night, but now it’s nagging at him relentlessly. Ignoring it isn’t easy, especially with the events happening around him. His mind races with thoughts, wanting to narrow down exactly who could be checking him out. It’s innocent curiosity. 

His eyes scan up, glancing around the club, looking between couples, unable to find the source of the gaze, until he lands on San again.

The man is watching him. 

The woman is still in his lap, although his hands are politely sitting on the arms of the chair, not even bothering to touch her. She isn’t ugly, by any means, and she has her mouth against his ear, lips moving, whispering things to him–probably to get him out of his pants. 

His eyes crinkle a bit at what she’s saying, and they dart up to her face, a small smile tugging at his lips before he whispers something back. The woman then replies with a small kiss against his temple, and then she’s standing up and stepping away, off to find another person to flirt with. 

San’s eyes find their way back to Wooyoung’s, and he simply lifts his glass, maintaining the contact as he takes a quick sip of the drink Hongjoong made him. Wooyoung feels like a deer caught in headlights. 

He doesn’t know why San is looking at him or what to do about it. He doesn't know if San is just watching him because he’s a new employee. He doesn’t know if he should be trying to busy himself and make it look like he’s hard working for the man. He doesn’t know if San’s just checking in on him, making sure he’s alright as his newest employee for a VIP swinger’s party. 

All Wooyoung knows is that he is very hard to look away from when he’s sitting there all dark, mysterious, and tempting. 

He can’t blame the girl for shooting her shot. 

He looks at his watch, checking the time. Only an hour or so left. Some people have already left–having… finished for the night. Others are still engaging in unspeakable acts, and there are a few couples continuing to watch for the hell of it. 

And yet eyes still watch him. San’s eyes. They have him shaking anxiously the next time someone asks for a drink. They have him questioning his every move. They have him stealing glances he hopes San won’t notice, but San always does, catching his eyes for a few seconds before Wooyoung is turning them away quickly. 

Eventually the night comes to an end when the final group of couples leaves. It’s around 10:15, just as San said it would be, and Wooyoung goes into autopilot. He begins tasks he would at his own bar, getting everything straight for the following shift the next day. 

He’s about to take out the trash when Hongjoong stops him, and instead hands him a drink. 

“Come have a seat,” Hongjoong says, leading him to the area where San is still sitting, nursing his drink in his hand. “Seonghwa is counting up the tips. It might be a few minutes, so relax a little.” 

Wooyoung follows without protest, and slumps into a chair across from San, and then downs most of the drink in one go. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that. He should’ve thought about taking a shot or two before work to loosen himself up, but he made it without it, so he’ll take that as a win. 

“Wasn’t too bad, was it?” San asks and Wooyoung shakes his head. 

“Not as bad as I thought,” the bartender replies, setting the glass aside. “Thank god.” 

The two other men laugh, because it had been pretty obvious, at least to them, that Wooyoung was nervous the entire night. He is thankful the guests were too preoccupied with each other to give a damn about him, but it’s still embarrassing to be the new guy, watched like a hawk, at a sex party. 

He’s just glad he didn’t get a boner or have a mental breakdown. The night could’ve gone so much worse. 

“So what do you think?” San asks, uncrossing his legs as he leans over a bit, staring Wooyoung down. “Would you consider coming back? We tend to do these twice a month for a client.” 

“I–uh–I’m not so sure–”

“Maybe this will have you reconsidering.”

Seonghwa comes into view, and seats himself in Hongjoong’s lap before he hands over a wad of cash and a check stacked on top of a document Wooyoung recognizes. It’s a tax form. They need his information–as any establishment would–but he’s much too distracted by the wad of cash placed on top. 

He hadn’t been paying attention to tips. He’d been too busy focusing on his hands that he hadn’t even noticed anyone slipping them bills into the tip jar on the bar. But Seonghwa is right, this does have him reconsidering. 

He can easily spot large bills out of the stack. Way more than he would ever get at Enigma. This one evening is more bills than he’s gotten in the past week. And when he looks at the check–triple does look really fucking tempting. 

“So what do you say?” San asks as Wooyoung is filling out the information necessary on the form. 

“I guess I could come back,” Wooyoung says, timidly under the three men’s gazes. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with my other job.”

“We do these every other Monday,” San explains. “A client pays upfront for the party and the open bar for the guests, and they tip cash only so you guys get to walk away with a good amount of money for having to go through this.”  

Oh that’s…that’s wonderful. Spectacular. Basically two extra paychecks a month, plus tips? Wooyoung can suffer if it means he can afford to pay his fucking rent and stop mooching off of Yeosang. 

“I think I can do it,” Wooyoung says, and the other three cheer excitedly, having a new member to the swingers team. 

“I’ll contact you with your information here,” Seonghwa replies with a smile. “We’ll add you to the group chat to keep you up to date.” 

“Sounds good,” Wooyoung agrees, feeling a bit overwhelmed at all the attention. 

San seems to take notice and decides to cut him loose. “We’ll finish up around here. You can go for the night. Jongho and Yunho are downstairs. They’ll let you out.”

Wooyoung doesn’t need to be told twice. He gets up and goes to the bar to gather his things–like his discarded shirt–and heads for the stairs. It’s there he realizes he’s still wearing Seonghwa’s necklace, and he looks over, wanting to return them, but Seonghwa has his tongue down Hongjoong’s throat already and Wooyoung feels nervous about interfering with their intense liplock. 

His hands feel up to the necklaces, and he goes to remove them, hoping to just leave them on the bar or something instead, but the owner calls out to him. 

“Just wear them next time,” San says, having read Wooyoung’s mind.

With a shaky nod Wooyoung is taking off down the stairs, ready to get out of the club and back to the safe haven that is his apartment. 

Except he isn’t safe when he gets home.

It’s early enough that Yeosang is still awake and when Wooyoung barges through the door around 11, hair much more disheveled than a few hours ago and missing the shirt he had been wearing when he left, it takes a solid 15 minutes to convince Yeosang he hadn’t participated in an orgy. 

“Wow,” Yeosang says in disbelief. “I can’t believe you got paid to watch people have sex.”

“I didn’t get paid to do that,” Wooyoung corrects. “And it’s not all you think it is. I was so uncomfortable the entire time.” 

“Yeah, I imagine it’s hard to concentrate on work with a boner.”

Wooyoung is too exhausted to yell, so he throws the older male the most disgusted look he can manage. 

“I don’t have time for your pestering,” Wooyoung sighs, leaning back onto their couch. “But I might’ve agreed to keep bartending for these parties.”

“So you did get a boner!” Yeosang accuses, and Wooyoung closes his eyes, muttering a silent prayer to whatever god is out there to put him out of his fucking misery. 

“No. I didn’t get a boner. I didn’t get paid to watch people have sex. I’m not staying because of the sex. I’m staying because of this.”

Wooyoung fishes his pay out of his pocket and sets it on the coffee table for Yeosang to see. His roommate’s eyes widen as he looks through the bills and at the numbers printed on his check. Wooyoung nods, now that Yeosang finally understands what he’s really staying for.

“Yeah,” Yeosang says. “Fuck the boners, they’re just a bonus.” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Wooyoung groans. “I’m going to go shower and go to bed.” 

“Sounds like a good idea,” Yeosang says in agreement. “Just don’t be too loud in the shower. I’m trying to go to bed.” 

Wooyoung throws his dress shirt at him before he slips into his bedroom, wanting to unwind from the eventful evening he’s had. And not like that. 

-

He works at another party. And then another. Soon a fourth. And he thinks he’s finally getting the hang of it. 

Once he joins the group chat he gets quite a few pointers from the others, and some much appreciated heads up. He learns these parties are invite only, but they have a few guests they have on their shit list. 

There’s a few guests that Wooyoung learns tend to make the nights long and absurdly loud. There’s a couple that they have blacklisted from anything containing tequila. There’s a woman who isn’t allowed to have more than 4 shots or she will turn into an aggressive drunk and Jongho would like to avoid another run-in with her if at all possible. 

He picks up another suit with his extra income. He finds something a little more fun, still black, but this one has a black and white embroidered vest he can wear by itself, with his blazer, or any other combination he chooses. 

He maintains his job at Enigma without his business at Fever interfering. He’s been able to make rent two months in a row, and afford to get he and Yeosang decent groceries. Everything is going swimmingly. 

Wooyoung slowly learns how to tune everything out when he works these events. It almost becomes mundane to him after a few nights at the club. The sounds of slippery lube and bodies pounding together no longer faze him. The moaning doesn’t even draw his attention, he’s so indifferent to it now. 

But there is one thing that’s hard to deal with. 

The constant staring. Not from the guests. From his employer, Choi San. 

He usually strolls up to the bar not too long after the party has started. Hongjoong makes him his favorite drink, a drink Wooyoung hasn’t bothered paying enough attention to to learn what it is, and then he asks how things are going before making his rounds with the guests. 

Wooyoung doesn’t know how he does it. How he can just walk up to a bunch of people having full on sex in front of him and engage in small talk before moving onto the next couple in a compromising position. 

He doesn’t know how San can just drop down in a chair, a chair the other guests seem to almost avoid like the plague when he’s not around, and watch over them without a single hint of interest. 

And yet somehow, San’s eyes always wander over to Wooyoung. 

It isn’t long after the owner makes it to his designated spot, cold drink in hand, that Wooyoung suddenly starts feeling eyes wash over him, and he always finds the culprit to be none other than the two toned mullet man who signs his check every other week. And two toned mullet man doesn’t sound hot on paper, but in real life he’s so fucking gorgeous, Wooyoung doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

San always dresses the part, like everyone who works the events. One night he came in wearing just a vest, strong biceps and arm veins on display and Wooyoung found himself eyeing the arms out of the corner of his eye any chance he got. 

He wasn’t the only one. He got approached by several guests that night, women and men, who seemed to invite themselves into his space to try to lure him into spending some time with them, but San didn’t entertain it. Every time Wooyoung glanced back at him San was whispering something back to them, and they’d eventually stroll back toward the other guests to find their fun. 

Another night San came in with just a blazer on, full abdomen on display and Wooyoung doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more perfect set of abs in his life. Seonghwa is nice, almost dainty with soft lines and long panes of muscle, but San is different. He’s solid, thin waist but protruding abdominal muscles that Wooyoung just wants to reach out and touch. 

But sadly he had to watch other people do it. 

An older woman settled in his lap that night, hands teasingly running up and down the exposed skin. San indulged her for a bit, not responding to the suggestive touch until she began unbuttoning his slacks. 

Wooyoung widened his eyes at the pair, and San, who had been eyeing him all night, caught him in his state of shock. The man smirked as he let her get his slacks open and unzipped before he stopped her, arm wrapping tightly around her wrist before he murmured something into her ear and she quietly got up and left him. 

And the worst part of it–he didn’t even bother to zip them back up! He remained there the rest of the night, hard abs exposed with his pants undone and hanging low on his hips. His eyes burned holes into Wooyoung as he tried to concentrate on work. It was difficult to keep focused. 

It was that night that he could no longer make excuses as to why San kept staring him down. 

He had worked multiple gigs. He had started making simple conversations with the guests. He had become completely desensitized to the group sex happening in the room. He didn’t need his boss breathing down his neck. Hongjoong wasn’t doing it anymore. Hongjoong had even complimented him on how well he adjusted. 

There has to be another reason why San won’t take his eyes off him, and it’s when he begins considering the possibilities that Wooyoung gets a little flustered. 

Perhaps he had done something wrong that he and Hongjoong hadn’t noticed. Maybe Wooyoung had something on his face–maybe San didn’t like his hair color. Maybe he thought there was only room for one two toned hairdo in the club. 

But then there’s the possibility that it’s the opposite. Maybe San is drawn to him because of their similar hair choices. Or maybe San likes the way he looks. Maybe San is into him–don’t people tend to look at people they’re into? 

That’s part of the reason why Wooyoung can’t help but look back at him. His watchful gaze isn’t the only thing that’s entrancing about him. He’s pure fucking sin. A masterpiece of nature. A thing of wet dreams, if you will. 

Wooyoung finds it unfair how beautiful he is, but he also finds it unfair how everyone else in the room gets to go up and touch him and he doesn’t. Not that he ever would. That’s his boss, after all. And he’s much too shy to approach a man that far out of his league. 

If he did, he’d probably just make a fool of himself. Find out he was reading way too deep into those stares. Then he’d have to quit his job. And the money is way too good for that. 

So he settles for suffering in silence. 

Each night that passes goes the same way–with Wooyoung feeling eyes on his form, and each time it’s San who is the one looking at him. Every night, after the guests leave, they all sit around and have a drink after they clean up for the most part, shooting the shit to unwind, and Wooyoung feels a heavy tension between he and San that he can’t place and wouldn’t dare bring up to the man. 

It’s getting quite annoying to not have any answers, but what can he do? The risks are too great for a man in as much financial need as him. 

-

“You look pretty tonight,” Seonghwa comments, hand tracing over the shoulder of the vest Wooyoung’s wearing. 

It’s his new one, the black and white embroidered one. He decided it’s the only thing he’s weaning tonight–well, trousers of course–so his arms are very much exposed. He works out, and he decided it’s about time he showed off the fruits of his labor. 

“Thanks,” he replies. 

“San won’t be able to take his eyes off you,” Hongjoong comments. “Not that he ever does.”

The blond laughs, and Wooyoung looks at him curiously. This is the first anyone else has made note of San’s constant ogling of Wooyoung. He didn’t know if he was just overreacting or if San was really good at hiding it when the others looked over, but the cat’s out of the bag. Apparently everyone’s caught on. 

“I didn’t know you noticed,” Wooyoung says. 

“How could we not,” Hongjoong jokes, looking at Wooyoung with amusement. “He isn’t exactly subtle.” 

“It makes me so nervous,” Wooyoung says, lowering his gaze. “I don’t know why he keeps staring. I’m always afraid I’ve done something wrong.” 

Seonghwa is laughing this time. “Trust me, honey,” the silver haired male says. “You haven’t done anything wrong to warrant his attention. It’s the exact opposite, really.” 

“So I’m not fucking things up?” Wooyoung questions, voice raising as he asks hopefully. 

“No,” Hongjoong assures him. “Maybe you should have a chat with him, hmm? Ask what’s on his mind.”

“O-Oh I could never,” Wooyoung says, because he’s too afraid to ask. That’s a loaded question, and Wooyoung doesn’t know if he can handle the answer to it. 

“Guess you’ll have to wait until he makes the first move, then,” Seonghwa says quietly before approaching Hongjoong. 

Wooyoung groans loudly as the two kiss. It’s their routine. They’re so insufferably clingy that every time one of them leaves the room they need to part with a kiss, and Wooyoung’s always the one around witnessing the tooth-rotting sweetness. 

Seonghwa pulls away and takes his position downstairs as usual, and he and Hongjoong return to the prepped bar, ready for the night to begin. 

Wooyoung has most certainly gotten the swing of things. 

He’s friendly with the guests he’s come to see a lot of, and he and Hongjoong run the bar like a well oiled machine, moving past each other to quickly whip out drinks for the partygoers they’ve become accustomed to. It’s actually pretty fun. He had become so bored with Enigma, but nights working the swingers parties are never dull in the slightest. 

It’s nearly an hour and a half in, and San is running late again, but Wooyoung doesn’t mind. It gives him more time to prepare himself for the owner’s devilish stares he knows will be sent his way. 

What he isn’t ready for is for San to come late–so late that it’s almost 10pm when he shows up. Some of the patrons have already found their release and gone home, while a few stragglers are still working on it. What’s even weirder is that San doesn’t approach the bar at all. 

He comes in on his phone, brows furrowed as he engages in hushed conversation with whoever is on the other end, and Wooyoung is confused how he can try to have any conversation with the loud moaning filling the room, but he assumes San and whoever he contacts during a swingers party is used to it. Hopefully. 

San is dressed in a full suit, not missing any article of clothing, just like the night he met him. He’s just as attractive as he is with less clothing on, and he all but falls into his usual place. Hongjoong hasn’t even bothered making him a drink, and when Wooyoung looks over to him he’s watching San with concerned eyes. 

He can’t question it. At least not now, not when there are customers present. He doesn’t know if he should bother at all. He’s the newest person here, it isn’t his place. It doesn’t feel right. 

So he minds his own business with busywork and drinks when asked. He doesn’t feel eyes on him for a while, but his own find San periodically, and the man is still on the phone. But all things must come to an end. 

When there are only 3 couples left he suddenly feels the telltale feeling of a certain someone’s stare, and he sheepishly looks up, meeting San’s eyes. This time the club owner beckons him over with a subtle motion of his hands. His eyes widen a bit, darting around the room to check on everyone’s status before he does as he’s instructed, and slips around the bar to San’s side. 

“Good evening,” Wooyoung says as he approaches. “Glad you finally made it.”

“Sorry for being late,” San replies, smiling up at him. “Had a call with an investor that ran late and he wouldn’t stop talking.” 

“You take calls with investors at sex parties?” Wooyoung questions teasingly, and San only smiles sweetly at him.

“He’s privy to the parties,” he replies. “These parties are our biggest money makers. He can sit through a lewd phone call every now and then if it fills his pockets.” 

Wooyoung fights back a giggle because he feels the exact same way. He never knew how a swingers club would be such a lucrative business. 

“Could you make me a drink? I need one after that headache of a phone call,” San says, loosening his tie. 

“What would you like?”

“Black Russian, please.”

“As you wish,” Wooyoung says, turning on his heels back to the bar. 

He’s made this drink a million times, and he does so almost on autopilot. Hongjoong is cleaning up the bar, the club becoming quiet as the guests are finishing up and dressing themselves after their escapades. 

Hongjoong seems to be in a hurry, diligently cleaning up the area regardless of if the customers are still in the club, but it's not like any of them care. They're off in their own world, still coming down from their post-nut bliss, as downstairs security guard Yunho would say. He always tells the best stories of them stumbling down the stairs and out the door, drunk off their asses and blissed the fuck out. 

He carries the drink over to San, who has since removed his blazer and tie, and has rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt just a tad, exposing those veiny forearms Wooyoung has had a few too many thoughts about. 

“Your drink, Sir,” Wooyoung says in an accent he essentially butchers, but it does get San to crack a smile. 

“Thank you,” the man replies, lowering the drink to his mouth to take a swig of it. 

Wooyoung waits by his side, a coy smile on his face with his hands tucked behind him, awaiting feedback from his boss. San takes another sip, maintaining eye contact as if he's needing a second try to gather his thoughts. Wooyoung knows the man is pulling his leg, but he keeps the cuteness going, hoping it works in his favor. 

“Ah,” San finally says, placing the drink aside. “You do make a good drink. No wonder the guests like you.” 

“They like me?” he asks, voice raising a bit in surprise. He usually keeps to himself, he's surprised to find out the guests he serves have taken a liking to him. 

“Of course,” San replies. “And it's not just the drinks. You’re quite pretty to look at, too.”

“You say that like you agree.”

Wooyoung didn’t mean to say that out loud. It slipped out, completely unfiltered, and hot embarrassment washes over him. Luckily his hands are still clamped together behind his back, and he squeezes them there, keeping himself from clamping an obvious hand over his mouth or slapping himself in the face for having absolutely no chill. 

This is his boss for fuck’s sake, and what he said sounds a lot more flirtatious than he had meant it. He is surprised–that’s all. It’s not like it matters to him if his boss agrees with the customers that he’s pretty. It wouldn’t change anything. 

“I have eyes, don’t I?” 

Wooyoung snorts. “They hardly look away from me–fuck– fuck, why do I keep talking–” he straightens up, giving an awkward smile before he bows his head apologetically. “Uh–Sorry, but I should go help Hongjoong clean up–”

“No worries,” Hongjoong says from Wooyoung’s side, and he almost jumps out of his skin, not realizing when the blond had even gotten there. “I’ve got it all taken care of, but I came to say bye. Seonghwa and I have a party to go to tonight for a friend’s birthday.”

“I’ll have your tips ready for you tomorrow,” San says in understanding. 

“Thanks,” Hongjoong replies, passing him the tip jar he’s taken off the bar. “See y’all later!” 

With that, Hongjoong is heading toward the stairs, and Wooyoung finds himself with nothing to do while he waits for his pay, alone with the man who has just complimented him. San doesn’t pay him any mind. He pulls out the wads of cash that had been stuffed in the jar and begins counting them out and distributing them evenly. 

Wooyoung takes a seat across from him, knees pressed together with his hands clasped over them. He feels out of place watching San do his job, but the other keeps things casual. 

“So how do you like working here?” San asks, slipping bills through his fingers. “You don’t find it uncomfortable do you?”

The man raises one eyebrow and smirks at him, and Wooyoung feels like he’s back at home, being questioned by Yeosang about his first night at the club. What is with these people and dick jokes? San of all people should know–he just works here. 

“I’m fine, thank you for asking,” Wooyoung says, keeping it short and simple. 

“Good,” the other man replies. “No one’s gotten too bold? No one’s come onto you, have they?”

“Like they do you?”

Wooyoung doesn’t know where this unfiltered boldness comes from around San, but he always feels the need to prove himself. At the bar he felt the need to prove he could do whatever task San needed to be filled. At each party he reminds himself to not crack under San’s smoldering gaze. And now, he feels the insatiable need to poke back when San makes subtle jabs. 

He peers up at San between his lashes, wanting to gauge the man’s reaction, but San only smirks at him. 

“They don't get very far, do they?” San asks.

“N-No,” Wooyoung answers quietly.

“You ever wonder why that is?”

Wooyoung hadn’t expected the follow up question. He wonders if this is that moment Seonghwa and Hongjoong had talked about–to find out what’s on his mind. Or maybe wait for him to tell him. 

“Yes,” Wooyoung replies, because he does wonder. It plagues his mind every night, and when he returns from work after each party he falls into bed, replaying the evening in his mind, wondering what he had done to draw all of San’s attention to him when there’s a willing body in his lap. 

“I’m too busy thinking about you.”

“Me?”

It comes out like a squeak. He would be embarrassed about it, blushing scarlet at the crack in his voice, but right now he can’t. His mind is blank. His boss ignores the people on his lap, wanting to engage in horizontal tango with him because his head is full of him? Of Jung Wooyoung? The person that didn’t even know what a swinger was before taking this job? 

“That night we met,” San continues, ignoring the almost childish way Wooyoung had responded. “I was hesitant to hire you not because I didn’t think you could handle it. I actually didn’t want to hire you for my own selfish reasons.” 

“Wh-What reasons?” Wooyoung asks, looking over to the man who has long been ignoring the money he’s supposed to be counting. 

“Most would find a boss with the desire to sleep with their employees unprofessional.”

Wooyoung blinks at him. He obviously hadn’t heard that right. Maybe he was thinking too deeply into it. Choi San–his boss–did not just nonchalantly mention wanting to sleep with him. He must’ve blacked out there; pieced a few things together to hear what he wanted to. Not that he wanted to sleep with San. He didn’t. Off limits. His boss. 

“I…I don’t think I heard that right.”

San laughs, loud and clear, amused by Wooyoung’s confusion. The shorter male tries to smile along, but he’s caught in a whirlwind of confusion with a hint of lust thrown in there that he had been trying to ignore. 

“You can’t convince me you haven’t noticed,” San says, bewildered by Wooyoung’s innocence. “Everyone in this room has looked at you like they’ve wanted to trade their partner for a pass at you–except Hongjoong. He’s so helplessly in love with Seonghwa, he wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“I haven’t,” Wooyoung replies. “All I could focus on was…”

There it is again. Those eyes darkening as San’s caught him in his trap. Wooyoung hadn’t noticed a single other person making eyes at him. How could he, when the only person he found even remotely attractive in the room took up all his attention with those intense eyes following his every movement. 

Wooyoung feels a certain heat pooling in his stomach. They’re the only ones here. The room still smells heavily of alcohol and sex. They’re engaged in a sensual exchange of words that has Wooyoung’s head spinning. 

“Have you thought about it?” San keeps going. “Have you thought about joining?”

“No,” Wooyoung replies honestly. He hasn’t. It isn’t his thing. 

“Don’t like sharing?” San asks. 

Wooyoung shakes his head.

“I agree,” San replies. “I couldn’t fathom sharing you.” 

His heart races at the confession. San is becoming bolder and bolder with each passing moment, and Wooyoung’s getting so hung up on it. He hangs on each word, loving the way San’s voice deepens. He loves the possessiveness that shines through. He loves the thought of his boss lusting after him–and only him–when so many have tried to have their way with him. 

A rush of excitement fills him. He shifts in his seat, feeling slight discomfort budding–but who could blame him. This attractive man has been sitting in front of him, telling him how much he’d like to have his way with him. Wooyoung can’t help but feel the heat licking up his insides. 

San has just told him he wants him. Fuck, if that doesn’t ignite so much curiosity within him. The way San’s looking at him, so alluring and focused, ready to devour him; Wooyoung believes he could. 

And maybe he wants him to. The last few weeks of beating around the bush, of stolen–and obvious–glances toward one another culminating to his moment, to them finally addressing the tension between them head on. 

And even if this is just a one off thing, maybe it will be what they need to break the tension. To get San to stop pining after him, and for Wooyoung to really come out of his shell. 

Wooyoung’s just a kid he hired on a whim to work sex parties. They interact twice a month at most. He’s technically off the clock anyway. It might not be the worst thing to indulge the man’s fantasies. Wooyoung’s pretty sure he’ll get something satisfying out of it too. 

“You want me,” Wooyoung says, and it isn’t a question this time. The words roll off his tongue confidently, and he studies San’s face, noting the way the man’s brow lifts again at the sudden statement. 

“I do,” San replies, all inhibitions completely thrown out the tinted club windows. 

“Then come and get me,” Wooyoung challenges, hoping the confidence doesn’t run out soon, because that took way too much effort to not cringe after it left his mouth.

“I don’t chase,” San replies, sitting back in his chair, legs spread wide and invitingly. 

“Then what have you been doing for the past two months?” Wooyoung asks, rolling his eyes at the man’s unashamed confidence. 

“Luring.”

The way he says it sends a shiver down Wooyoung’s spine. Heat curls low in his stomach, and he swallows. As much as he’d like to continue the banter he has going with San, he’s starting to feel a growing problem between his legs, and he’d like to do something about it–like San to do something about it. 

He slowly picks himself up, watching the other carefully as he slips around the low table separating them. He settles in front of San, his legs between San’s spread ones, and he looks down at him, contemplating his next move. 

He’s not super experienced in things like this. He isn’t a virgin, but he doesn’t have the most exciting dating record, and he’s never really had a hookup or one night stand, so this is all completely new territory for him. 

Luckily, now that San has apparently lured him in, San takes the lead. 

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you,” San sighs as he leans forward, his voice almost taunting as he slides his hands up to Wooyoung’s waist. 

The taller man toys at the waistband of the slacks as his eyes dart over him, taking in as much as he can of Wooyoung so close. The bartender feels the other’s fingers flutter up, two fingers tugging at the embroidered vest he’s wearing. 

“May I?” San asks, looking up to his face for an answer, and Wooyoung nods. 

San takes his time, undoing each of the 6 buttons agonizingly slow. He works from the top down, each button exposing more and more soft skin until it’s finally open. Wooyoung sucks in a short breath as San’s fingers enter beneath the article of clothing. The pads of his fingers dance across the skin teasingly and it sends heat quickly rushing south before his hands find purchase on his hips. 

Wooyoung is looking down at him through his lashes, eyes hooded and filled with want at the simplest of actions. He sees San look up, a smile on his face, mouth parting to say something to him but Wooyoung acts faster. 

He leans over, stopping San from asking another ridiculous question of whether Wooyoung wants him to do something or not and slots their mouths together. He can feel San’s smug smile against the kiss, but he’s too far gone to give a damn about it. 

The kiss is messy, but San seems to take whatever Wooyoung gives. His hands squeeze at his waist, spurring him on as Wooyoung licks into his mouth, desperately pressing his tongue into San’s mouth that easily becomes addictive. 

The hot mouth against his isn’t enough, so Wooyoung quickly moves, dropping down to settle a knee on either side of San’s waist without parting their lips. He moans and takes San’s face into his hands, tongues sliding together as he cups San’s jaw in his hands, thumbs soothing over the smooth skin of his cheeks. 

He can taste the alcohol on his tongue and he whines with every press of San’s tongue against his own. He grinds his hips down, taking advantage of his ass perched on San’s lap and he smiles triumphantly against the plump lips molding against his own when he hears San moan against him. 

San doesn’t hesitate to grind up against his ass, and Wooyoung breaks away from the kiss, cursing under his breath as he feels the swell of San’s clothed cock pressing between his cheeks. The taller man makes quick use of his mouth, lips trailing open mouthed kisses down Wooyoung’s neck as the bartender pants against his ear. 

His hips circle over San’s cock once more, and he moans loudly when he feels San suck the sensitive skin at the side of his neck, leaving a purpling hickey in his wake before he continues the assault down the untainted skin. He presses a flurry of wet kisses down his neck before he lifts his hands from Wooyoung’s waist to push the vest over his shoulders, exposing even more of his body to the cool air of the empty club as the vest falls to the floor. 

It’s then that San finally pulls away, just as breathless as Wooyoung, and his eyes flutter over the newly exposed torso. His hands slide up and down Wooyoung’s side, causing goosebumps to form on the soft skin. His thumbs slide over his nipples, causing his hips to automatically buckle ever-so-slightly. 

San heaves a deep breath through his nose at the movement, and he places a firm grip on Wooyoung’s hips once more, pulling them chest to chest, Wooyoung’s face slightly above San’s in his position on his lap. 

“You’re so sensitive,” San comments, and Wooyoung feels his bare chest flush pink in embarrassment. 

San doesn’t settle on it for too long, and lowers his hands to Wooyoung’s ass before he gives the clothed globes a strong grip, jerking their bodies together. Wooyoung’s head falls back as he feels the friction of San’s cock against his bottom, and oh does he crave some friction of his own on his cock. 

His arms fall to San’s neck, fingers curling in the blond mullet to tug. San’s tongue and his teasing hips already have him so hard he can’t stand it. He drops his head against San’s shoulder, looking down between their bodies in hopes the other gets the memo. 

He does, thankfully San reads him so well, and the other pulls one hand from his ass after a final squeeze, and he slides it against the front of Wooyoung’s pants, pressing his palm against the bulge that has formed there. Wooyoung whimpers at the feeling, hips jerking up, wanting to feel more, and he whines loudly when San’s other hand squeezes the swell of his ass as he repeats the action against his cock. 

“Should we get these off?” San questions and Wooyoung nods against his neck, burying his face in the other’s neck because he’s so needy and it’s so embarrassing. 

It’s been way too damn long since anyone has touched him, and he doesn’t believe anyone has ever touched him like this. He’s so fucking turned on right now, he doesn’t believe he’s ever been this hard in his damn life. 

San leans back a bit, both hands moving between them to fumble with the front of Wooyoung’s pants until they’re open and the zipper is pulled down, exposing the waistband of tight briefs. San’s hand slides into them, cooler against the hot skin of his neglected cock and he sighs heavily against his neck as San’s hand wraps around it, giving it a few tugs. 

The position is uncomfortable, their dress clothes not giving them enough room to move around in, and Wooyoung most certainly wants to take his pants and underwear off. He does not want to make the trek home with cum-stained boxers and slacks. But San’s got them covered. 

“Up,” San instructs, removing his hands from Wooyoung’s cock to do a quick slap against his thighs. 

Wooyoung doesn’t need to be told twice. He backs off, feet finding the floor and he wobbles a bit before standing upright. San sits up, moving to the edge of the chair before he sinks to the floor, both knees on either side of Wooyoung’s feet and the bartender becomes even more turned on at the sight.

“‘Gonna suck you off, yeah?” San says, reaching for the bartender’s slacks and Wooyoung nods dumbly. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, watching intently as San smirks up at him. 

He bites his lip as the man pulls his slacks and briefs down, exposing his hard cock that’s flushed pink and leaking pre-cum. San doesn’t give him a single moment to adjust to the cool air hitting his warm cock before he wraps one hand around his length and wordlessly takes it into his mouth. 

Wooyoung closes his eyes at the sensation. San’s mouth is impossibly wet and his tongue is so fucking sinful. He feels the man curl his tongue around his shaft, sucking him off expertly, fully in control and not being fazed in the slightest when Wooyoung’s hips rut forward, bucking into his mouth. 

He whines when San pulls off a bit, paying more attention to the head as he laps at Wooyoung’s leaking slit and presses a long stripe of his tongue up the underside of his cock just to tease him. He uses his hand to pump his cock as he laps at the head. He uses his own spit as lube, gathering it on his hand as he speeds his hand up, each twist of his wrist dragging needy whines from Wooyoung’s bruised lips. 

San looks so fucking good like this. His eyes are downcast, beautiful lashes fluttering over his cheeks as he sucks him off. Wooyoung can see the way his cheeks hollow, and loves the way his lips look wrapped around his cock. 

With San’s spit-slicked hand he moves it between Wooyoung’s leg, the movement startling him, but not unwanted. He adjusts slightly, allowing his legs to knock against San as he spreads them slightly wider to accommodate the hand between them. San continues to suck him off, mouth releasing lewd, wet noises that drive Wooyoung insane as he feels a finger sliding against his hole, rubbing San’s spit against it as lube as he presses against his entrance, massaging it lightly. 

“S-San,” Wooyoung says breathlessly, peering down at the man between his legs. San looks up at him, not removing his lips from Wooyoung’s cock as he does so, and Wooyoung almost doesn’t want to continue with his suggestion. This could be enough. Releasing down San’s throat isn’t a bad idea, but as the finger slips in him he whimpers, missing the familiar feeling of fullness, and he continues. 

“Lube,” he rushes out. “There’s lube everywhere–”

“Get it for us,” San says, finally pulling off Wooyoung’s cock. A string of spit connects San’s lips to the tip of Wooyoung’s cock and his dick throbs when San licks his lips to remove it. “You want me in you, Wooyoung?” 

He nods, loving the way San says his name so darkly, voice rough and hoarse from having sucked him off; his lips wet with spit and Wooyoung’s pre-cum. He kicks off his shoes, and lets his pants drop down his body, finally completely naked when he steps out of them. He moves across the room, eyes searching for the nearest basket to grab a bottle of lube and a condom. 

He is unaware that San had followed him until he feels the man’s hand cupping his ass, giving it a tight squeeze before he slaps it, admiring the way the flesh jiggles. Wooyoung yelps, but San only laughs deeply, curling his arms around Wooyoung’s waist as he presses his front to Wooyoung’s back. 

The bartender arches his back, pressing his bare ass against San’s front, feeling the man’s cock still trapped in his pants slide against him. He bites his lip as San moans against his neck, his face nuzzling against the skin as he trails soft pecks of his lips down his neck and shoulder. 

“You’re so pretty,” San whispers against his ear, his warm breath billowing over his skin, sending another shiver down his spine. Wooyoung keens, high pitched and breathy at the praise and the feeling of San’s fingers massaging his waist. 

He’s so riled up, his cock standing pretty between his legs and he lowers his hand, wrapping his own fist around it, seeking pleasure. San chuckles against his neck, knowing what he’s doing, and he moves them forward, glued to Wooyoung’s backside as they stumble back toward the previous area. 

“Lay down,” San instructs, sliding some of the bills out of the way on the low table he had been counting them on. Wooyoung is too horny to protest against the hard surface, but an armchair wouldn’t properly support them. It’s the cleanest area by far, so he rolls with it, sliding his bare ass across the table before he rolls back, lying lazily on his elbows. 

San drops to his knees again, and Wooyoung folds his legs to accommodate the club owner between them. His heels rest on the edge, and he waits patiently for San as he pours lube over his fingers and rubs them together, getting them nice and slick for him while warming the lube between the long digits.

San moves closer, settling between the man’s heels. His free hand reaches out, lifting one of Wooyoung’s legs over his shoulder to make the man more comfortable before his free hand finds purchase on the edge of the table. They share a short look, both exchanging unsaid words before San presses forward, a finger circling over Wooyoung’s hole. 

Wooyoung lets out a quiet gasp as a finger presses inside of him. He forgets how much he craves being filled up, and it isn’t long before San is adding another, and he easily accommodates it, relaxed and pliant under San’s hands. 

San turns his head, planting soft kisses along the inside of Wooyoung’s thigh that’s hooked over his shoulder, and Wooyoung squirms, whining softly as San’s breath tickles the sensitive skin between his full thighs. He screws his eyes shut as San’s tongue laps at whatever skin he can reach, while his fingers press into him, sliding smoothly against his walls as he relaxes around them. 

He arches his hips when San pulls the two fingers all the way out, desperately wanting them back in. He pushes his hips down a bit, and whines when the man chuckles, taking his sweet time before pressing three against his entrance. San doesn’t give him what he wants so easily. He massages the area with the three fingers, playfully intruding just a hair before pulling back out, leaving Wooyoung’s hole empty and fluttering, begging to be filled.

“So desperate,” San coos as he watches Wooyoung waggle his hips, a soft pout forming on his face. San’s just toying with him, and it’s so fucking annoying. 

He curls his leg around San’s shoulder, his heel digging into the larger man’s back as a warning, and it only pulls him closer. He finally gets his reward when San presses the three fingers in, burying them as deep as he can inside Wooyoung before curling them ever-so-slightly. 

The feeling is dizzying, and he whines at the stretch he hasn’t felt in a while. He feels San’s free hand slide to his waist, clean fingers holding his hip lightly as his thumb draws relaxing circles over his hip bone. His mouth is back on his inner thigh, plush, pink lips ghosting over the skin as he trails kisses and breathy praises that Wooyoung’s doing so well, and that he’s so pretty. 

“You want to touch yourself, hmm?” San questions and Wooyoung shakes his head, looking down at him, and that was a fucking mistake. 

Wooyoung’s eyes scan down his body, seeing how bare he is–how spread he is for San. San’s looking at him curiously, head tilted against his inner thigh as his fingers move between his legs, wanting to know if Wooyoung feels discomfort–if a hand on his cock will dull any flare of pain he may feel. 

All it does is make him feel hotter. His cock is neglected, an angry red and leaking between his legs and he knows if he touches himself, if he tried to jack himself off, he’d release too early. He doesn’t know how he’s going to take it when San replaces his fingers with his cock. 

Fuck. He hasn’t even seen his cock. Wooyoung’s pretty sure he might bust the minute it comes into view. 

“N-No,” Wooyoung whimpers. “C-Can’t–might–”

San’s fingers twist inside him and pleasure shoots through him. His head falls back against the table as his lips part in the loud, guttural moan. He just knows San is smirking, and he doesn’t have time to even think about how embarrassingly turned on he is and how he could cum on just San’s fingers alone before San is doing it again, brushing that same spot deep inside of him. 

He jerks his head up, brows knitted together, lips parted as he looks down at San through hazy eyes. He desperately bucks his hips off the table, using his heel that’s pressed against the edge to chase after San’s fingers. 

All he wants is more. More, more more. Deeper. Faster. Harder– fuck. 

San picks up the pace, eyes unable to choose what view he likes better between Wooyoung’s entrance, swallowing his fingers in his tight heat, or his face, so beautifully contorted in pleasure, breathy whines and moans falling from his lips like a sweet symphony for San’s ears only. 

He knows what he wants. He’s fucking ready. He needs something more, something bigger, something that will reach deeper. Fingers aren’t enough, he needs San. 

“Please,” Wooyoung beds, hips thrusting up, grinding against San’s fingers. “Please, San. ‘M ready.” 

San gives his thigh one last kiss, just for fun, before he’s pulling his fingers out of Wooyoung’s lube slicked hole. It’s way too quick for Wooyoung’s liking, and he gasps at the loss, but it’s worth it. He knows he’s going to get more.

San gets to his feet, leaving Wooyoung sprawled out on the table before him, hooded eyes watching as he makes quick work of his clothes. 

And it’s quick. 

Wooyoung hears the way the seams stretch as San roughly yanks open the small buttons that trail down his shirt. He quickly wrenches his shirt off his body, and Wooyoung bites his lip as San reaches for his pants. 

“Fuck,” San groans, eyeing him darkly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Wooyoung releases a soft giggle, proud that he has San just as fucked up as San has him. The larger male rustles his pants open before he kicks off his patent leather shoes and sends them and his boxers to the floor. 

Once San has ditched his clothes Wooyoung can really get a good look at him. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, long and thick and Wooyoung can’t wait to have it up his ass. He pushes himself up off the table, ignoring how sore he is from laying on it as San moves closer. 

His hips are at Wooyoung’s chest from where he’s sitting on the edge of the table, and he licks his lips, wanting nothing more than to wrap his mouth around the other man’s cock and suck him off, showing San how pretty he can really be for him. San comes close, cock just before Wooyoung and he reaches up, wrapping a hand around it as he lets it slide against his mouth, rubbing the pre-cum that’s gathered there against his swollen lips. 

Wooyoung’s tongue darts out, running along his lips to wet them once more, and teasingly licking at the head of San’s length. He looks up at him innocently, all sparkling, round eyes and San runs his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, gathering around the dark dyed ends as he tugs the man back, away from his cock. 

“As much as I’d love to see those lips wrapped around my cock,” San says sweetly, and Wooyoung frowns, because he also wants San’s cock in his mouth. “Turn around,” he instructs instead. “All fours.” 

He quickly turns around, and it’s then that he realizes just what position he’s in. The money on the table had not been properly discarded at all. It’s scattered all over the place, rumpled across the low table he’s on and down to the floor. There’s some underneath him, and he hadn’t even noticed the feeling of the bills against his back. He’d been too preoccupied with the man between his legs and the fingers up his ass. 

And it makes him feel even more turned on. It makes it feel taboo–dirty. It sends a thrill down his spine, hot want filling his mind, making the experience all the more passionate. 

He feels San’s hands reach out to him, roughly feeling the curve of his ass that’s on display for him. Wooyoung arches into the touch, head turning to the side to look back at San as he rolls his hips back, trying to seek out the man’s cock. 

He listens carefully, hearing the man tear a condom open before he rolls it on, and once he’s ready, he presses forward, the tip of his cock probing against Wooyoung’s fluttering hole. Wooyoung whines as the gentle pressure. He drops his head between his shoulders, rocking back, wanting San to press more purposefully against his entrance–wanting San to slip inside. 

Finally San is sliding inside after all the teasing. Wooyoung focuses on the stretch, breathing evenly as he whimpers until San is finally sheathed inside. He whines when he hears San groan, quietly cursing under his breath about how tight Wooyoung feels around him. 

Wooyoung arches his back, and San bottoms out. He widens his legs, chest dipping lower as he arches, making himself pretty for San as he adjusts. Hands reach up, sliding down his back, nails raking over him before coming back, and resting on his hips where they gently massage the area. 

The bartender drops his head into his hand as San remains still, giving him all the time in the world to become comfortable. But that isn’t all San’s doing. 

“Your ass,” San breathes behind him, giving his hips a gentle squeeze. “I could eat you out all day–make you cum on just my tongue. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Wooyoung’s cock twitches, hopelessly neglected, leaking onto the bills beneath him. His hole clenches around San, his body reacting to his words, turned on at the idea of San fucking him with his tongue, that San wants him again–wants to do more with him. 

“You’d be so good for me,” San says, hips swaying a bit, cock pulling out just the slightest bit with Wooyoung whimpering at the loss. “Just like you are now.” 

San pushes back in, the thrust shallow, yet precise. It causes Wooyoung to gasp, but it’s not even a moment later when San is pulling out again, further this time, and the emptiness that remains has Wooyoung closing his eyes, wanting to press back against his hips, but the snap of San’s hips has him filled back up again and his eyes rolling back at the pleasure that comes with it. 

Wooyoung’s overwhelmed by the pleasure, body arching on its own, hands clawing at the edge of the table in front of him, desperate for something to hold onto as San begins thrusting into him. Wooyoung’s moans are loud, shamelessly filling the space, louder than any of the other patrons that frequent the sex club. Each thrust is calculated, controlled, and oh so deep. 

Wooyoung doesn’t even realize he’s drooling until he’s choking out a moan, sputtering incoherent curses as San snaps his hips against his ass. He can hear San’s labored breathing behind him, he can feel the way his fingers hold onto his waist, the way his nails dig into his hips to ground himself. 

The bartender’s arms shake, hardly able to hold himself up, and he feels one of San’s hands leave his waist, reaching up his spine to lace through his hair and pull. He cries out, loud and frantic as San presses his hips against Wooyoung’s ass, burying himself deep as he tugs the other’s hair again. 

San grinds against his ass, rutting up, pressing their sweaty, hot bodies together and a familiar sensation washes over Wooyoung, San’s cock brushing that spot inside him that has white hot pleasure coursing through him. This only spurs San on. 

He relinquishes his hold on Wooyoung’s hair, the boy slumping forward onto his chest, legs spreading impossibly wider and San pulls him up by the hips, keeping him steady. 

“There, yeah?” San asks, and Wooyoung can only moan back to him, babbling unintelligible words that he hopes gets the memo across that yes, fuck yes, right fucking there–please. 

He’s so fucking close. He can feel it building. San is relentless, hips drilling into him, each time going impossibly deeper, hitting that spot that drives him fucking insane. San’s dick is perfect, it fills him up so nicely, stretches him so well, and the more he thinks about it the better it gets. 

His thoughts turn into a hodgepodge of San. Everything about him. How good he feels. How hot he is. How sexy he makes him feel. 

He’s breathing harshly, cheek pressed against the table, mind working itself up, bringing himself closer and closer to orgasm. He feels like mush, he can’t even bring himself to reach between his legs and grab his cock–but he doesn’t need to. Not when San is abusing that place inside him, vision blurring with each blissful thrust of his hips. 

He cries out, feeling pleasure shoot through him, overwhelmingly hot and he cums untouched. He whines as San doesn’t stop, doesn’t even bother pausing for a mere moment. He knows he’s coated the table–the money– with his release, but he can’t think straight. Not while San is still chasing his own orgasm behind him. 

It doesn’t take long. Wooyoung’s ass clenching around San, squeezing around his cock as he comes has him following behind quickly. He presses his hips flush against Wooyoung’s, a gruff swear falling from his lips as he fills the condom. Wooyoung whines as he thrusts shallowly, riding out his orgasm. 

Wooyoung’s thighs shake, unable to keep himself up. When San pulls out he folds, hips dropping to the table, trying to wobble onto his back to be more comfortable, but the money–dirty with his release–stops him. 

 He whines loudly, pouting to San who is removing the spent condom. The larger male chuckles, dropping it onto the table before he leans down, helping Wooyoung and his unstable legs off the table and into the armchair San normally uses. Wooyoung slumps against it, pulling his limbs into a ball as he watches San put on at least the bottom half of his clothes. 

He’s a bit dizzy and a bit breathless, but San seems easily put together–much more than Wooyoung is. San had him so worked up, giving and giving until Wooyoung came completely undone under his hand. 

“What are we going to do with the money?” Wooyoung asks, because that’s the most pressing issue. Those tips are supposed to be divvied up between them, and now a large portion of them have Wooyoung’s cum all over them. 

“You’ll get the dirty ones,” San says, chuckling when Wooyoung pouts. “It is your cum after all.” 

“It’s your fault,” Wooyoung says quietly, resting his head on his arms. 

San leans over, cupping a hand under Wooyoung’s chin to tug his face upward. Wooyoung closes his eyes as San slots their mouths together. His hand reaches up, threading in the soft blond hair at the nape of San’s neck, holding onto him as San kisses him tenderly. 

He pulls away far too quickly, but Wooyoung guesses it is warranted. He still has to count the money–recount it, actually–and make sure he gives all the gross bills to Wooyoung. 

He sits in a daze, tired eyes watching San as he sits on the floor, picking up bills before he’s counting them out again, making a sticky pile just for him. He admires the man’s features, ones he hasn’t been able to before. Like the arch of his nose, the curve of his spine, and the way his hair falls into his face, making him look so young for the business owner he is. 

He can’t believe this man just fucked him senseless. God, how is he supposed to function at another party when San comes and gives him that look. Oh, he is positively ruined. 

“Here you go, princess,” San says, handing him his tips for the night. “One stack of cum stained tips.” 

Wooyoung rolls his eyes but takes them, grimacing when a few do feel particularly wet. 

“Are you going to finish getting dressed, princess?” San asks, pulling on his shirt he’d discarded earlier in the evening. 

“Give me a minute,” Wooyoung grumbles, and San only chuckles in response. 

“You’ve had plenty,” he teases. “That good, huh?”

Wooyoung looks around, spotting San’s tie that had been thrown over the back of the chair. He launches it at him weakly, and San merely catches it and puts it around his neck, saying a cheeky thank you that has Wooyoung pouting further. 

Eventually he finds the will to get up and get dressed. It’s much later than he had expected, well after midnight when he and San finally leave. Luckily Yeosang is asleep by the time he gets home, and he doesn’t have to face his annoying questions until the following morning, where he’s forced to spill the beans about who left the hickeys all over his neck. 

And it again, takes a solid 15 minutes to convince him he didn’t take part in a fucking orgy. 

-

Things stay the same, and yet they also change. 

Wooyoung continues working at the club every other Monday. San is much faster to shoot down any wandering party goers who approach his seat when he’s there. 

They don’t make their newfound relationship known. Wooyoung just loiters a bit later, waiting for everyone else to go home first so he and San can have some alone time. 

But things can’t always remain a secret. 

It’s a few months before they’re confronted–or well, he’s confronted. He’s preparing the bar for another party. Yunho and Jongho have just brought up the food. Seonghwa is still making sure all the booths are clean and ready to go. And Hongjoong is chatting him up. 

“So you and San?” 

“I-I beg your pardon,” Wooyoung says, hands stilling on the fruit platter he’s cleaning up because the grapes have found their way into the strawberries and he can’t have his guests seeing the place in such disarray. 

He hears the others in the room snickering, and he looks around, eyes wide as his eyes dart between them. 

“Y-You all know?” he asks, and they each nod, holding back teasing smiles and failing miserably at it. 

“How?” he asks, because they hadn’t done a thing in front of them. They’d been so careful. It had been months and not one hiccup. 

“You do realize we work security,” Yunho says, laughing when Wooyoung’s eyes widen, the how dawning on him. 

“You’ve seen my ass,” he gasps. “Have you all seen my ass?” 

The room bursts into a fit of laughter at Wooyoung’s expense, and they all confirm, yes, they’ve seen his ass. Their security systems has 4K HD cameras, they’ve seen all of him–and San, if that makes him feel any better, Jongho added. 

It didn’t. 

“Don’t feel so bad,” Hongjoong says, slapping a hand on his bare shoulder. “Seonghwa and I have done it before. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s almost like a rite of passage,” Yunho says, and Wooyoung stops paying him attention, too busy trying to come up with a way to access their cameras and delete any footage of his bare fucking ass out, getting pounded by their boss. 

“You guys are okay with it? That it’s San?” Wooyoung asks, feeling a bit uneasy. He didn’t want any animosity between them. He needed to make sure they were all okay with it. 

“Yunho’s fucking the guy who sponsors the parties,” Seonghwa says, shrugging his shoulders. “Mingi’s technically our boss too.” 

Wooyoung releases a sigh of relief. At least that isn’t going to be an issue. Now he just has to convince San to stop fucking him in the monitored areas of the club after hours. 

He thinks it’ll go over easy, but he’s proven wrong when San’s lips open him up later that night, eating him out until he comes from just the man’s tongue like he promised, legs curled up to his chest in San’s designated spot. 

He guesses it doesn’t really matter, the damage is done, and if someone goes snooping through the camera recordings it’s on them, the employees have already been warned.