Work Text:
Work lingers. This truth is etched into each and every muscle that lines Mingi’s tired form as he walks into his apartment and slides off his suit jacket. It’s a deep ache, something quiet but throbbing that makes Mingi want to lie down right on the floor of his entryway and go to sleep for the rest of the night.
He knows he can’t do that, but he wants to do it so badly.
His work isn’t easy. It’s mundane, sure, and by this point, he understands just about every part of his company’s workflow like it’s part of his autonomic nervous system, but that doesn’t make it any less emotionally or physically taxing.
Mingi needs a break. He knows he does. It’s almost impossible to take one, though. His undying work ethic is carved into his bones like a curse placed there by ancient sorcerers. It would take a miracle to break the spell his work has on him. It would take a whole hell of a lot to keep him home on the days of the week that necessitate his existence in the office building.
The desire to rest is practically dripping from him. A long, sharp icicle hanging above his head drip, drip, dripping its frosty isolation along his neck and shoulders, making it hard for him to think about anything except food and sleep.
Food is easy. He pops a calorie-friendly dinner into the microwave and stands to watch it spin. It feels like it takes a lifetime. He’s so tired. He’s so hungry.
He needs to rest. He’s so tired.
He’s so tired.
His doorbell rings before the microwave finishes its exhausting revolutions. Hungry and exhausted, Mingi drags himself to the door, loosening his tight, black tie as he goes.
No one ever visits him, so the doorbell is a truly jarring event. His pulse ticks behind the skin of his wrists as he glances through the peephole.
The only thing he sees is powder blue. It looks fluffy and soft, but it’s all Mingi sees, so he takes a step back and shakes his head before opening the door with a sigh.
Behind his door is a man. He’s a tall man, but for some reason, he feels small. He’s taller than Mingi by just a hair, but there’s something about his demeanor that makes him seem minuscule. Mingi must be going insane from his exhaustion because his first thought, when he sees the man, is: I could bridal carry this guy and not break a sweat.
“Uh,” Mingi’s voice feels way too low all of a sudden. He scratches the back of his neck and leans against the doorframe before continuing, “Hello?”
“Good to see you, Mingi,” the stranger replies. His voice has a hint of playfulness to it that Mingi enjoys but is also confused by.
He frowns. “You too, I guess.”
They stand awkwardly for a long moment. The man in pretty blue blinks at Mingi with big eyes and nods past Mingi toward the apartment. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
This only confuses Mingi more. He cocks a hip and crosses his arms before asking, “I’m sorry, but should I know you or something?”
Realization and the slightest touch of embarrassment blooms across the other man’s face. He laughs under his breath and shakes his head before grabbing his phone from his pocket and pushing it almost directly under Mingi’s nose.
While Mingi reads, the man explains, “I’m with the Chillmate group. We spoke at length over the weekend about your wants and needs then set up this meeting tonight.”
Mingi’s eyes can’t really seem to focus on much other than the little image of this man on his profile and his name. Yunho. Jeong Yunho. Twenty-three years old, has two ferrets, and loves to eat buttery popcorn while watching shitty American action movies. “Chill…Mate?”
His visitor’s smile grows, as does the red flush on his ears. It’s endearing, Mingi has to admit. “Chillmate is a service for people looking for a friend. Or, um…more. Well,” he lowers his voice and leans closer to Mingi to whisper, “An escort service.”
Suddenly, the space between them feels way too small. Mingi’s stomach swirls with a funny cocktail of shame, arousal, and anticipation. What the hell had he done? Had he really had that much to drink on Saturday?
“An escort service…”
It’s mumbled more to himself than Yunho, but Yunho nods back all the same. “I take it you don’t recall.”
“I don’t.”
“Well, you did pay in full and tell me that you’d die without me.”
Mingi’s knees feel weak. He can’t seem to meet Yunho’s eyes anymore. All he can do is stare at the soft outline of Yunho’s warm curves through his fluffy sweater. The bend of his waist, slightly padded with thicker flesh. The heat of his chest, not at all muscled under a flimsy flap of sky-blue cashmere.
He grabs the phone that Yunho is still holding and reviews the terms of the agreement. It isn’t a small amount of money, and the terms are pretty solid. No refunds. None at all.
“If you scroll down a little, you’ll see the activities we discussed. I just have to run to my car to get everything; if you’d still like to proceed…”
Mingi can only nod. He barely notices Yunho hurrying back toward the elevator while he reads the list of things he himself had apparently requested of this escort while he was blackout drunk over the weekend.
1.Cuddles
2.Dinner
3.Snuggles
4.Nose Kisses
5.Snacks
6.Cheeks. Pretty cheeks.
7.Kiss
8.Hold hands
9.Cuddle
10.Sleep
The price tag is steep for such a humiliating list of requests. Really. Mingi can’t believe this is what his life’s become. Behind him, the microwave finally beeps, and it scares the ever-loving hell out of him. He nearly drops Yunho’s phone in shock.
He waits for Yunho to return and invites him in. Suddenly, the food in the microwave looks like the most disgusting thing he’s ever seen. He can’t stomach the thought of touching it, so he dumps it in the trash and turns back to his guest for the night.
Jeong Yunho. Long, thick limbs wrapped in blue cashmere and creamy sweatpants. He looks so comfortable. He looks so at ease in Mingi’s home. Shouldn’t he be a little scared? Mingi’s some weird guy. Some weird guy that requested the weirdest things a person could request on a paid sex site.
Seriously, the website Yunho had shown him was all black, red, and XXX-plastered. Yunho looked like a sultry siren strapped in drenched leather in his profile picture. He looks so soft, clean, and gentle right here in Mingi’s cramped living room, but those pictures on the Chillmate site paint a completely different picture.
“Why don’t you take a seat? You seem like you’ve had a long day. I’'ll get dinner started, okay?”
Mingi nods as if in a trance and stumbles to the closest stool at the bar that overlooks the kitchen.
Yunho pulls a multitude of ingredients, a few bottles of wine, and an apron from a reusable grocery bag. When Yunho ties the cute, beige apron around his waist, Mingi feels faint.
“Red or white?” Yunho nods over at the bottles of wine on the counter.
He shrugs and shakes his head. “Your choice.”
The escort grins and pops open the bottle of Riesling.
Good choice. Mingi thinks to himself.
He watches Yunho’s strong hands while they delicately pop open the bottle and pour a perfect glass. Those fingers are so long. Those palms are so big.
He lightly bows and thanks Yunho when the glass of wine is pushed before him. He takes a long sip and relishes the flavor on his tongue. His eyes slide shut for a few seconds. Despite his earlier exhaustion, he’s very much awake now. The man in his kitchen is efficient and dexterous, switching between boiling rice, cooking steak, pouring wine, and measuring out ingredients like he was a head chef in a past life.
It’s a calming show to watch. Mingi sinks into the bar in front of him and takes another sip of wine.
“I like your suit today. That color suits you.”
Mingi had already stripped off his jacket, but his tie was still barely dangling around his neck and his slacks were still on despite their state of wrinkles. He smiles and nods but doesn’t say anything.
“But the workday’s over, Mingi. Go change into something more comfy, okay?” Yunho turns to smile at him, and the look in his eye is positively hypnotizing. It’s a practiced look, Mingi’s sure, but the domesticity of it sends blood rushing to his heart and under his belt in equal measure.
He swallows hard and returns the wine to the counter before hurrying to his bedroom to change.
Most of his clothes are dirty, but there is a pair of loose mesh shorts and a baggy TWICE shirt that doesn’t look too bad. He throws them on in a hurry and looks in the mirror to ensure he looks remotely presentable before rushing back out to the kitchen.
He approaches quietly and finds Yunho humming a familiar tune while sprinkling some red pepper flakes on a bowl of perfectly seared steak. It looks delicious. Mingi’s eyes water at the sight of another person in his personal space doing something nice for him.
Yes…Mingi paid him. And, yes, Mingi doesn’t even recall paying him, but…
It all worked out well, he thinks.
“So, an escort, huh? That must be a wild ride.”
He slides back into his seat and takes another sip of wine, his eyes never leaving Yunho, who never stops smiling while he works.
The question doesn’t make that smile budge a bit. If anything, it brightens further. “I love my clients. I’m practically retired now, but there are a few old favorites that I like to keep around. You were lucky to find me when you did.”
“Yeah?”
Yunho levels him with a funny look. “To be honest…I only responded to your request because you were so funny in your messages, and your pictures were so cute.”
That throws Mingi for another loop. “Pictures?”
His guest moves some pots and pans around to simmer before pulling his phone out again to show Mingi. He stands so close to Mingi while he shows him that Mingi can feel his breath on his cheek. It smells like wine and berries. A glance over at the counter explains the berry smell. There’s a wide variety of fruits and cheeses beautifully displayed on a cutting board. Mingi’s mouth starts to water at the prospect. He’s been cutting calories lately. He could really pound some cheese.
“Oh, just a sec.” Yunho moves around the counter to grab the fruit and cheese board and grabs a slice of something white and thick between his long fingers before placing it against Mingi’s lips. “It’s just gouda.”
Mingi parts his lips and takes the cheese onto his tongue. It’s soft and rich and Mingi can barely contain the moan that rumbles in his chest at the taste. Yunho cocks a brow but doesn’t say anything before opening his phone again to show Mingi their earlier conversation.
It’s…so unlike Mingi. So unlike the man he’s been trying to be in front of his colleagues and acquaintances. No suit in sight. No hard set of his eyes and jaw. Just a warm, puffy jacket, flushed cheeks, and shiny eyes.
He looks so at ease, so full of joy. Yunho starts scrolling through their conversation to fill in the blanks in Mingi’s memory, but Mingi’s mind has long since drifted from the scene in front of him. Seeing himself in such a state of unwound ease crafts a technicolor lump in his throat. The blood in his veins seems to rush like rivers at the thought of a Mingi without worries.
With just one glance at a picture of himself , Mingi feels truly and entirely incapacitated.
Ringing in his ears, pulse pounding in his throat and wrists, teeth clenched together hard.
The room trembles around him.
He could…be that man in the picture if he wanted to be. It isn’t all that hard. Take a few extra hours out of the week to do the things he wanted. Have a glass of wine, cook a nice meal, and spend time with a friend. Mingi could do that.
Mingi could do anything.
“Can I hold you for a moment, Mingi?” Yunho’s voice is like marshmallows melted over a fire in Mingi’s ear, and Mingi’s body gives in entirely.
He consents verbally, but it’s hard to remember what he’s even said when Yunho wraps two long arms around him middle. It’s not a tight hug, but it’s not a loose one either. Mingi’s still on the barstool, and Yunho’s standing beside him, so their heights are a little off, but somehow, it’s like a perfect fit.
It’s one of those hugs that feels like a big breath in after hiding in a cramped space during hide and seek as a kid. Relief and pride in yourself flood your system as your friends cheer you on for staying hidden the longest.
Yunho’s fingers are warm and firm when they brush down Mingi’s clothed back as he hugs him. His breath is hot against Mingi’s throat. It’s such a nice hug. Mingi would expect an escort to be good at many things with his body, but not necessarily hugs.
This a good fucking hug.
He squeezes the escort closer to him, a shiver wracking his body that feels like an expression of years of yearning being released out into his small kitchen with just one short embrace.
Too soon, Yunho pulls away to smile at Mingi. “Cheek kiss?”
There are tears clinging to Mingi’s lashes that drop to his lap when he nods one more time.
Yunho’s smile grows. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are so goddamn big.
He lets his chapped lips linger on the harsh edge of Mingi’s cheekbone a little longer than Mingi expects, then pulls away with a spin to return to cooking their meal.
Whatever it is, it smells like heaven sprinkled with parmesan and oregano.
The wine glass in front of Mingi is quickly emptied and refilled by the time the food is ready and plated in front of him. Yunho sits beside him at the bar, their knees touching every time they wiggle around a little too much.
It’s one of the best meals Mingi’s had in a long time, and he feels like he’s floating on a cloud as Yunho asks him about his day.
Mingi’s days are monotonous, but they’re not harmless. He has one of those jobs that cause people’s arteries to harden before they’re sixty. It’s boring, but it’s high-stress. These kinds of jobs are the hardest to describe to others.
“Oh, so you sit in a comfy chair all day and send the occasional email while poring over paperwork and filing things? Sounds so hard.”
They really have no idea.
Some of these kinds of jobs are nothing jobs, but some of them are everything jobs. Jobs that make or break a person’s livelihood. Jobs that change the course of people’s lives with just the push of a button.
Mingi has to make many hard choices during his day, and it’s starting to show in the wear and tear that he feels in his bones and muscles.
Yunho seems to sense this by the time Mingi finishes talking about his day. The plates in front of them are empty, so he takes the plates and puts them in the sink before leading Mingi over to the couch and instructing him to sit on the floor in front of the piece of furniture.
In just a few seconds, he has a blanket thrown over his crossed legs, and Yunho is perched behind him on the couch with his fingers digging deep into Mingi’s tense shoulder muscles.
The television plays some old Bruce Willis movie while Yunho plucks and prods to his heart’s content. His fingers are masterful, yet another skill that Mingi is sure translates well to the more lurid parts of his job, but this is so innocent. Although he can’t deny that the sleepiness of a massage and a full belly always leaves him feeling a little turned on, this moment right here is anything but horny.
It’s the epitome of content. Yunho occasionally comments on the movie playing in front of them, but otherwise, he just hums under his breath while he works a hard elbow into the knot that always seems to be present in Mingi’s broad shoulders.
Sometimes, Mingi feels Yunho’s lips run along his neck or his cheek. Soft words are spoken along the kisses that are almost impossible for Mingi to comprehend past the thick cloud of sleepiness that is soaking into his bones.
Before he knows it, he’s being pulled from the soft carpet and directed back to his bedroom. He doesn’t wonder how Yunho knows where his bedroom is. His condo is the kind of place you’ve seen in a thousand Hollywood movies. Boring, clean, structured like a rat’s maze. It’s a home, but it’s sharp and too empty for comfort. Somehow, it’s too small and too large, depending on Mingi’s mood that day.
The entire apartment is dark. Mingi feels like Yunho is leading him in a waltz to the bedroom. Their muscles and limbs are loose and fluid while they make their slow, measured traversal across his apartment. They both giggle when they topple over onto Mingi’s poorly-made bed. The whole house smells like the dinner they ate, and Yunho’s looking down at him with soft eyes that seem to shine with something secret. For some reason, it feels like Yunho’s vibrating out of his skin as he stares down at Mingi and pushes some hair from his eyes.
“Do you mind if I kiss you?” He asks. So gentlemanly, given his occupation. Mingi supposes he doesn’t know if sex workers are very polite. He’s never been with one. The thought had never even crossed his mind. He still can’t believe he set this up for himself.
Skin buzzing with the slightest bit of residual Riesling in his veins, Mingi leans up to connect their lips in answer. Everything about Yunho is soft, Mingi soon learns. It doesn’t take long before he allows himself to be flipped onto his back so Mingi can take the lead. The body in his arms seems to melt at the slightest touch, eyelids fluttering and lips parting easily to accept Mingi’s tongue like a communion wafer.
Their bodies move like waves as the kiss deepens. It’s so natural. For Yunho, it’s what he does for a living, so that doesn’t surprise Mingi. But, for Mingi, it’s far from instinctual. He doesn’t go out often, and if he does hook up with someone, it’s fast and hard. He rarely gets someone’s number, and he rarely feels like it’s filled any kind of void in him.
Right now, the void no longer exists. It’s just Yunho’s soft cheeks, and Yunho’s slick tongue, and Yunho’s hard cock making its presence not just known but impossible to ignore as it throbs and kicks against the inside of his pants while they grind.
Mingi feels at ease. Is this why people do this? Had he completely misunderstood why people did these kinds of things? Maybe for some people, it wasn’t just sex. It was companionship. It was the warmth. It was the joy of having another body in your arms and begging you for more.
Too soon, Yunho pulls away from the kiss, but it doesn’t last for long. He rolls them until he’s on top of Mingi between his spread thighs, their clothed cocks rubbing together just right and making them both moan.
He runs his nose along Mingi’s jaw until he reaches the far corner, then nibbles at his earlobe as he continues rolling his hips forward. Mingi moans. He can’t stop moaning. Can’t remember the last time he had felt something so good, even if it’s just a little kissing and dry humping.
Yunho’s tongue runs up the shell of Mingi’s ear, his body pressing even harder against the long line of Mingi’s writhing form. Mingi nearly jumps out of his skin when Yunho starts whispering to him urgently, “I need you to trust me for the next minute or so, okay?”
The words are strange, but Mingi’s heard stranger things in the heat of the moment, so he just keeps rolling his hips and listens as Yunho continues, “I need you to moan for me, okay? Pretty loud. I’m not going to touch you or anything. We can just keep doing what we’ve been doing, but you need to be loud for me. Understand?”
Now, this is a little strange. Mingi nods again, but he’s a little more self-conscious this time. Regardless, Yunho is looking at him with the most tender eyes, and he doesn’t feel like a threat. He’s given Mingi no reason to panic quite yet, so he obliges. He starts low and slow, deep moans that come naturally to him. But as Yunho speeds up his own grinding thrusts, Mingi’s moans start to heighten. Almost against his will, Mingi gives in to Yunho’s request quickly. His eyes water with shame at how easily his body gives itself over to his guest for the evening.
Yunho leans back down to press a kiss against Mingi’s neck, then continues speaking, all while rolling his hips down against Mingi.
“Your apartment is bugged. No, don’t stop moaning. Good. Good job. Just like that. Now, this will be a little scary for a bit, but I need you to trust me, okay? Good. Good. You’re doing so well.”
Mingi’s heart thumps in his chest despite the nature of the situation. He keeps moaning, as requested.
“I know all about your job. Have for a while. I’m a member of the Bureau of Foreign Affairs, and we’ve had an eye on your employer for a while. You’re a patsy, Song. They have you doing a whole lot of dirty work that looks like nothing more than crunching numbers and pressing buttons from the outside, but you’re in deep. They’ve set you up for the fall.”
He wants to stop. Kind of. Not really. Despite the fear building walls of terror in the base of his throat, Mingi doesn’t want to stop. He believes Yunho easily. It’s like he’s known this for a while. His job is too good to be true. Too much pay for too little work. Too many locked doors, too many hushed conversations.
Mingi moans high and tight, wraps his arms around Yunho to pull them together close, and calls out, “Ah, yes, more…more…please—”
It’s loud and embarrassing, but Yunho nods against his throat approvingly, then continues right against his ear, “I know this is insane, but they have eyes on you everywhere. This was the only way I could get to you. We want to help you, Mingi, but you have to help us. You’ll have to keep working for them, but you’ll be eyes for us. We can keep having these sessions. They won’t question one of their employees jumping in bed with an escort, but they would question and surveil just about anyone else.”
“Yes…Yes…right there—Yunho, more—”
It’s absolutely shameful, but Mingi feels more alive than he’s felt in years. He can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel as Yunho rounds out his speech.
“I’ll come every Saturday. We’ll do it just like this, but we don’t have to actually kiss and touch and all that. Okay? We can just pretend. Can you do that? Do you want to help us?”
Mingi’s brain feels like it’s moments away from short-circuiting. He’s actually perilously close to cumming in his shorts, but he knows that now is not the time. He knows it, but his body’s got a mind of its own, so it’s as he cries out a few more Yes, Yes, Yes, Yunho’s that he shudders and shakes his way through a mind-altering orgasm like he hasn’t felt in years.
To his credit, Yunho just smiles at him politely and helps him clean up with some tissues by the bed. In an unexpected move, Yunho doesn’t leave immediately after everything. He stays. It’s an all-inclusive package, he tells Mingi as he wraps around him in bed, kisses the back of his neck, and whispers goodnight.
They wake up in the morning, and Yunho already has two coffees and breakfast sandwiches waiting for Mingi on his table. It doesn’t necessarily seem like something an escort would do, but Mingi doesn’t question it. He just eats the breakfast then walks Yunho to the door.
The back of Mingi’s brain itches with questions, but he knows it’s too soon to ask, so he holds them down while Yunho says his goodbyes. They very audibly agree to another date the next week, and Mingi thanks Yunho for his hard work and even tips him with cash. Once again, Mingi doesn’t know if people usually tip sex workers. It’s not exactly something he’s researched.
After Yunho leaves, Mingi showers for a long time. He’s glad his company can’t bug the inside of his brain because it’s a minefield of information that he knows will help Yunho and his cause.
He feels stupid for letting himself get caught up in something so obviously dangerous, but what could he have done? Rent was due. The job was easy. His life was empty.
But now, he feels hope. Now, for the first time in a long time, he feels free.