Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Honestly, Chan still doesn’t know how he got himself into this mess. 

It had been the very definition of a ‘my friend’s cousin’s neighbor’s dog’ situation that he’d only half been listening to. Apparently, Changbin was currently messing around with a dude who had an ex who’d had a friend, and that friend was rich as fuck. Like stupid rich. Like trust fund baby, dad is a billionaire, would never have to work a day in his life kind of rich. And this guy Changbin only knew through several degrees of separation, was gay.

“And single,” Changbin had insisted, waving his fork in Chan’s direction. “And on the market.”

“And that has to do with me, why?” Chan had asked, like any self-respecting normal person would.

Changbin had just slid his phone in Chan’s direction, a screenshot of an Instagram post sent via text message waiting for him. “Because apparently, he’s looking for a hot older man.”

That, as far as he knows, is where the calamity had begun. But that still doesn’t explain the sheer magnitude of the nonsense Chan is currently dealing with.

Let’s make a few things clear. Chan, by all accounts, is an ordinary guy. He’s forty-three this year, single after his relationship with Minho went down in mutually assured flames, and about as boring as people come. The most interesting thing about him is his chronic insomnia, and he’s taking pills for that, actually, so he doesn’t think it counts.

Chan’s always been relatively by the books. He went to college a couple years late. He graduated with a communications degree, and has managed to find himself a job that doesn’t make him actively suicidal. He has a dog, a couple friends, and a social life that consists of generally not saying no to any invitations out he gets. It’s functional! He’s fine.

But he’s not necessarily happy.

Despite his best efforts, money is always tight. City living is expensive, and the rent for his apartment has climbed to the point where he’s started tiredly looking for a new place. Things with Minho were good, for a while, but it had gotten messy, and that mess had only spread when the man had unashamedly started pursuing one of Chan’s friends. He’d given Jisung his blessing, but it had been with a heavy heart, and the knowledge there was no good answer to the problem. Technically, he’s got free time, but it’s never enough to do anything he’s passionate about.

Plus, Chan’s critically aware that he’s getting older. Changbin, at least, is close to his age; thirty-seven now, but Jisung’s only thirty-three. He feels out of the loop at the best of times, and at the worst he wonders if he’s actively being excluded. If only because trying to explain certain things to him isn’t worth the effort.

It’s a life, and he’s certainly living it. To the best of his ability, he would argue, but some days, he has to wonder if there’s something he should be doing differently.

At the time of Changbin showing him that screenshot of a screenshot, Chan had possessed enough sense to take one look at that gummy smile and designer ballcap and say no. No, he doesn’t care about this individual he knows nothing about. And why is Changbin trying to set him up with someone who is probably young enough to be his son? Does he even know this man personally?

The answer he gets to that is a dismissive, “What does that have to do with anything?” that makes him feel vaguely like Changbin wasn’t paying attention in the first place.

But it’s fine, right? Chan has said no, and surely this subject won’t come up ever again. Because it’s insane, and everyone should know that.

Two weeks later, Chan’s talking to Changbin’s not-boyfriend-yet Felix, and the topic pops out of the man’s mouth like a perfectly cultivated jump-scare designed to make Chan choke on his drink.

“I don’t think it’s that weird,” Felix pouts, like Chan isn’t currently hacking up a lung. “I mean, usually it’s the other way around with the older guy looking for a companion, but who says you can’t chase your dreams at a young age?”

“We’re calling this a dream?” Chan wheezes, as he paws for his napkin and tries to get the worst of the fruit tea out of his shirt.

Sipping thoughtfully at his own boba drink, Felix hums low in his throat before deciding, “Anything can be a dream if it’s a goal you choose to actively pursue!”

“He’s looking for a sugar daddy,” Chan says bluntly, before his face contorts and he amends. “No, he’s looking for a daddy to sugar.”

Felix giggles, then giggles again when Chan gives him a weary look. “You said it, not me,” he defends, grinning mischievously. “But can you really blame him? All that money just burning a hole in his pocket- why not spend it on things that make you happy.”

“Surely-” Chan mentally summons up the one picture he’s seen; soft brown hair with a streak of pink through the front, big pretty eyes, a slim waist. “Surely someone like him can just go out and find someone. Hell, go to a club, I’m sure there are plenty of guys who’d give anything for even a chance.”

Humming again, Felix gives a tiny shrug. “I’m sure he’s got his reasons. Maybe this is his way of being selective. And maybe he wants to make sure they don’t just leave.”

Grimacing, Chan looks to the distant bathroom door, where Changbin disappeared what feels like forever ago. Not that he’d be much help… “Yeah, but… this isn’t- buying someone’s time doesn’t lead to long term happiness. It’s shallow.”

“Chan.” Leaning forward, Felix puts a hand on top of his, small and dainty. “Have you considered he’s doing this because he wants to have fun?” When Chan just stares at the man, lost, Felix continues, “He’s probably not looking for an actual romantic partner, he just wants his back blown out by a dilf. I promise it’s not that deep.”

If he’d had any tea in his mouth, he would have choked again. As it is, Chan ducks his head and weakly says, “I guess I just don’t get it.”

“That’s fine.” Felix’s toothy smile returns and he pulls back his hand. “You’re only kind of the person who’s being marketed to.” 

Chan tries to ignore that comment, really he does. But when Felix and Changbin start discussing the subject at greater length, he maybe, perhaps, digs through Felix’s follow list and finds the account in question. Just to see. Just to find out if the marketing works.

It does. Fuzzy sweaters and off the shoulder tops and skinny jeans that show off miles of leg. He sees loose shorts that reveal flawless, soft thighs and cropped shirts that highlight a nice stomach and a criminally small waist. And that’s not even mentioning the smiles. The glittering eyes. The braces if he scrolls back through just six months worth of photos. All of it feels deliberately targeted at him specifically.

Frivolous expenditures of wealth usually sit bad on Chan’s tongue, but this man makes it look good. Effortless, even. At first glance, most of it isn’t flashy, but he’s always surrounded by the very best. Whether it be what he’s dressed in or the vehicles he’s riding in or the places he’s going or the food he’s eating or the other people he’s with. Chan only recognizes a couple faces but the fact he recognizes any at all feels weird.

How the hell do Changbin and Felix have someone this fabulously wealthy and connected sitting so close to their actual friend circle?

And amid it all, like a strange presence looming over his shoulder, is the knowledge this man is trying to pay someone to be his boyfriend. Or if not boyfriend, then weekend play-thing. Like an ancient purse dog. It sounds like a downright unbelievable thing to go out and actively advertise you’re looking for.

But… that’s none of his business, so he puts it out of his mind. He resolves to move on. To focus on more concrete parts of his life. The parts that don’t have to do with rich and spoiled children.

Chan intends to stick by that resolution. Right up until his work decides to go from five day work weeks to four.

It’s part of a new program, something about maximizing productivity. Instead of working eight hours five days a week, everyone now will be working something closer to ten hours a day, and getting Fridays off, save for a skeleton crew that gets Wednesdays off instead. Chan doesn’t know if it’ll last, or if it’ll actually help anything, but much like everyone else in the office, he doesn’t complain.

Usually, when HR loses its mind, the changes that get made to everyone’s lives are bad. At least this one involves longer weekends. He’s not necessarily looking forward to getting home around seven every day, instead of six, but these are the trade offs you make. And even if Chan wanted to, he can’t exactly tell his company no.

Because of this surprise happening, he ends up with an extra day every week to do… Well, in theory, something. In practice, Chan doesn’t have much he likes to do. He used to like music production, but the constant grind of life has beaten that out of him. He used to play video games, but he’s so far behind on consoles and popular titles, and he hasn’t owned a computer capable of handling anything past Microsoft Word since DOOM was released.

Instead, Chan resolves to take Berry for longer walks, and let Jisung and Changbin drag him to the gym more often than usual. Sure, that means he has to face down Minho, but they’ve mostly worked everything out. They’re on speaking terms again. It’s not physically painful to see the man fawning over Jisung anymore.

The extra day off isn’t even part of the problem. But it is ancillary to the problem. It serves to remind Chan that he hasn’t had a life he’s really living in the past couple decades, and that maybe he hates his job a lot more than he thought he did. But with bills always hovering on the verge of unpayable, it’s not like he can do anything about it.

At the very least, he’ll have time to himself.

As he expects, on that first Friday he has off he’s immediately dragged out to a bar by Changbin and Jisung, who also want to celebrate their newfound freedom. Chan staunchly argues that they’re all too old for things like this, and is relegated to designated driver because of it. Just because he doesn’t want to have fun, Jisung announces, round cheeks pushed up in barely controlled glee, doesn’t mean the rest of them are going to be boring too.

Which is how he ends up at a bar far more expensive than he’d normally bother with, feeling very out of place with his glass of water when everyone else is at least two drinks in. He’s trying to have fun, really Chan is, but at a certain point he’s sent off to try and order food for everyone, and the inevitable wait time between placing the request and being served has him talking to the bartender. Because what else is he going to do at this point.

Hyunjin is pretty, in a way that falls somewhere outside the gender binary. The kind of pretty Chan might have at least tried to hit on, if he were a few years younger. As it is, the man is working, and with no less than three people relying on him for a ride home, he knows better. Besides, actually talking to the guy is much more enjoyable, and it’s helping him relax for the first time all evening.

That is, until somehow, the name of a by now familiar person creeps into their conversation.

The moment Hyunjin realizes Chan knows about the weird, reverse sugar-daddy situation, he swoops in on it like a hawk. Apparently, he knows the guy personally! Apparently, the guy comes to this very bar with shocking frequency. Apparently, he’s got a private booth. One that stays reserved even if he’s not around.

“I feel like he’s haunting me, and I don’t even know who he is,” Chan admits, running a hand through curly hair that he’d only tacitly attempted to style before coming out. “This is the third time someone has brought him up unprompted.”

“Maybe it’s fate?” Hyunjin suggests it like it’s a joke, before something terrible alights in his eyes. “Maybe you should meet him.”

Chan laughs, then stops laughing when he realizes Hyunjin isn’t joking. Staring at the man for a long second, he gives a cough and a little jiggle of his leg. “Ah- no. I don’t-” Clearing his throat properly, Chan makes a point of straightening his shoulders. “I’m not in the market for a sugar baby. Even if he’s the one paying me.”

“Wait, you’re straight?” Hyunjin’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. When Chan gives an awkward shake of his head, the bartender reacts with almost comical relief. “Okay, so taken then. Come on, if they’re as old as you look, he may be willing to pay both of you.”

Face instinctively going red at the sheer number of things that implies, Chan quickly says, “I’m single, I just don’t think that’s a good use of his money.” Or my dignity, he almost adds, before considering some of the stupid shit Changbin and Jisung have convinced him to do and holding his tongue.

“Oh come on.” When Hyunjin whines, he does so with his whole body, sagging against the counter and contorting his face exaggeratedly. “You’ve got to at least try. You don’t understand, you’d be like- like catnip to him.”

Picturing himself being quite literally dangled like a piece of meat before a predator, Chan grimaces. “I don’t think you mean that.”

“Oh I absolutely do.” Hyunjin’s eyes go wide and serious. When someone further down the bar calls out to him for more drinks, he flatly ignores them for a moment so he can say, “I’m not saying he’s not mysterious in a lot of ways, but his ideal taste in men is not hard to figure out.” 

Opening his mouth to respond, all Chan gets is a chirped, “Tell me in a second!” before he’s being abandoned to his own thoughts. And that is not somewhere he wants to be.

He should be going back to his friends. He should be ignoring Hyunjin’s chosen topic of conversation and not letting this nonsense continue any longer. He’s stronger than this! He’s better than this. He means it when he says he doesn’t want to end up as some weird lapdog that’s only kept around to look old and for sex. That sounds horrifically demeaning.

Chan doesn’t get up. Instead, he waits for Hyunjin to come back before plainly saying, “I’m not anyone’s ideal.”

“Oh please.” Hyunjin scoffs loudly. “Look at you. You’ve got a nice face, a good voice, a great nose, you’re really selling those eye bags. I can see your arms. If the rest of you has muscle like that, I bet you could bench me. And you gotta be, what, forty? Fifty?”

Chan winces at that, thankfully distracted from the onslaught of compliments. “You were closer the first time, I’m forty-three.” 

“Okay and that’s precisely what he’s looking for.” Leaning closer once more, Hyunjin folds his hands on the bar-top, in what can only be described as a supplicating gesture. “I don’t think you understand how good this could be for you. Do you have any idea how much money he has?”

“I’ve been given a ballpark,” Chan admits.

“You know he owns this bar,” Hyunjin states flatly, eyes sharp. “Decided he wanted it one night, called up the the owner on the spot. Walked out two hours later with signed paperwork. Just because he thought it would be funny. Because he could. It was pocket change to him.”

It’s the kind of wealth Chan can’t even fully fathom. He knows he’s not doing poorly for himself. Seventy-five thousand a year is nothing to sneeze at, he’s proud he’s made it that far, but it’s not rich. It’s just barely middle-class. He could hardly handle dropping enough money to fix his laptop when it broke, much less buying out an entire business, just to say he did.

Chan’s mind fills with the images from the man’s instagram. Big, sparkling grins, gums visible, eyes curled up into mischievous little crescents. In most respects, he looks expensive, too expensive for most people to afford, but there’s something about that smile that makes Chan feel like in some small way…

No, no that’s crazy. You’re crazy.  

“I’ll be honest,” Hyunjin says, cutting through Chan’s thoughts. “I’m friends with him. So maybe I’m a little biased about this whole thing. Personally, I want to see him find someone he’s happy with. And if I’m also interested in seeing how many zeros he’s willing to fork over just to get you to consider it, that’s my business.”

Amazingly, Hyunjin seems sincere. He’s seemed sincere through this entire conversation. Chan feels vaguely like he’s been dropped unceremoniously onto another planet, but Hyunjin isn’t bullshitting him. Or at least, the man doesn’t think he is. Which has to count for something, right?

Oh come on, you’re insane, none of this counts for anything. You haven’t even met the guy, you can’t honestly be listening to someone talk about sleeping with him for money.

“How-” Wetting his lips, a little nervous, Chan asks, “How old is he?”

“Twenty-one this year,” Hyunjin answers innocently. “He’s definitely legal.”

It feels like he’s running out of excuses.

“Hyunjin…” Running a hand through his hair again, Chan tiredly says, “I have a job. I have a life. I’m not desperate for money, or for a boyfriend.” Despite what Changbin might argue to the contrary. “I’ll admit, he’s gorgeous, and he’s probably a great time, but I don’t think-”

“He’s going to be here next Tuesday.” Hyunjin blurts it out before Chan can finish his sentence, let alone his entire thought. “That booth in the back, the one that’s mostly enclosed, that’s his. He’ll probably get here around nine pm, and he’ll stick around until two. He might have company, but if it were anything serious, I’d already know about it.”

Presented to him in a moment of weakness like this, the knowledge is dangerous to Chan. He’s a strong man, but he’s far from a perfect one. And it’s genuinely starting to feel like the universe is trying to tell him something. Between credit-card debt looming over his head and work having completely consumed his life, and even the whole Minho-Jisung situation, he’s tired. The idea that he might be able to rest a bit, even if it comes at the cost of another chunk of his peace of mind, is tempting.

Like he knows he’s winning, Hyunjin leans a little closer, full bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “Please? If you don’t like him, you don’t have to stay. You don’t have to say yes to anything you don’t want, but I just want to see. For the sake of my curiosity if nothing else.”

Logically, he has no reason to care about what Hyunjin does or doesn’t want, but… Ah hell, he’s looking for a final straw at this point. This serves that purpose just fine.

“Maybe.” It’s all he says, but by the way Hyunjin’s face lights up, Chan might as well have offered the man the world. “I can’t make any promises.”

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin assures him, with a little pat on the hand as he withdraws. “I won’t say anything unless it happens. But… if it does-” His eyes dance. “You have to tell me all about it.”

“Okay,” Chan answers, before he can think about it. “If anything happens.”

If. 

Lord willing, he’ll come to his senses before Tuesday.

⊸⏣⟜

Chan does not come to his senses before Tuesday.

If anything, he thinks he loses his mind further. In those handful of days between Friday and the fated day, Chan finds himself obsessing. Running his mind in stupid little loops, just like the class gerbil back in fifth grade.

He ends up on the guy’s instagram page no less than thirteen times, even though all he gets for his troubles is a single set of new pictures. He stresses about telling Changbin and Jisung, and then subsequently stresses about not telling them. He tries to figure out what he’s supposed to wear, only to realize he hasn’t actively tried to dress himself for a first date in years. Then, naturally, he ends up berating himself because it’s not a first date. It’s just a thing.

A terrible, terrible thing.

Though normally he can’t summon the motivation, Chan finds himself walking Berry every day during that short window of time, just to get out and do something. She loves it, doing happy scampering dances and giving excited licks to his hands and ankles every time he pulls out the leash, which at least makes one of them. Meanwhile, Chan’s just wondering if he can talk himself into bailing.

As of Monday, he still hasn’t managed. Instead, he spends all of work thinking about it. Imagining going to bed early on Tuesday and waking up on Wednesday satisfied he didn’t cave to his worst impulses, and allowing his life to return to normal. Without the intrusion of a sugar… whatever you want to call him into it.

It’s ridiculous. He’s ridiculous. Chan doesn’t want this, and even if he did, Hyunjin can’t have been telling the truth. There’s no way someone like that would be even remotely interested in someone like Chan. Someone who makes in a year what this man could probably spend on a slow evening, and doesn’t have anything outstanding going for him in any other department either. The idea Chan would be desirable to a man like this is crazy.

Monday comes and goes. Like a personal sword of Damocles, Tuesday hangs over his head. He tries to convince himself that he’s stronger than this, and today is a day like any other, but Chan can practically feel each minute ticking by, drawing him closer to when he will have to make a decision. One way or another.

He says he’s going to make the right choice, but he pushes to get home early, and he’s showered and groomed before he can even consider the implications of those actions. If he were smarter, he’d sit down and eat some dinner and maybe even throw on a show off of Netflix. It doesn’t even have to be good, just something to keep and hold his attention for a little while.

Instead, he gets dressed. He puts on something nice but not too nice, picking his accessories with a little more care than usual, before standing in the mirror and looking at himself. Minho always said these black jeans made his ass look nice, and he supposes they do. Most of what he’s wearing is dark, but to be fair he doesn’t keep much color in his closet. Chan doesn’t stand out like some people would, but he looks better than normal.

There’s no helping the bags under his eyes, or the handful of gray hairs scattered through his curls, but maybe those will be points in his favor. Remember what he’s in the market for, Chan tells himself, as he slips phone, wallet, and keys into his pockets. You’re giving yourself the best shot you have.

The drive to the bar is a bit of a blur. He doesn’t remember most of it, save for a select few moments. A particular spray painted street sign that catches his eye. The fact his watch is on the wrong way. The sixth red light he hits when crawling through downtown. It takes Chan a solid twenty minutes to get there, but it passes in the blink of an eye, and before he knows it, he’s there. Standing in front of the bar, feeling a strange mix of nerves, shame, and dire curiosity all bubbling in his gut.

Compared to Friday, the bar is much quieter. There are still a fair number of people around, but Chan feels far less suffocated by the noise. Much like last time, he gets the distinct sense he’s not rich enough for a place like this, but he doesn’t let it deter him. He’s here for a purpose.

It occurs to him, as he weaves his way through groups of drinking, chattering people, that he doesn’t actually know what he’s supposed to be doing. Hyunjin told him when and where, but the how of the situation had been practically undiscussed. Now that he’s here, floundering without anyone to fall back on, he’s starting to think he should have pressed that issue a little harder.

Those fears dissipate, however, when he spots a vaguely familiar head of long brown hair behind the bar. Doing his best to edge his way closer, Chan lifts a hand in greeting, and almost at once, Hyunjin notices him. Instantly, he’s getting a delighted smile, and a wave of the hand, one he gratefully obeys.

“Oh he’s going to love you,” Hyunjin announces the moment Chan’s in ear-shot, blatantly giving him a once-over as he does. “I’m so glad you decided to come back.”

“I… thought I might as well,” Chan settles on. It sounds better than saying I couldn’t talk myself out of it, or any of the other potential ways he could have answered that comment. “Where-”

“Is he?” Hyunjin finishes, cocking an eyebrow. “Not here yet. You’re early. But that’s fine, it’ll be more convenient that way. Hang on, let me get the key. Want anything to drink while you wait?”

Though usually Chan doesn’t drink, he feels like this is an occasion that requires it. So he gives a little bob of his head and suggests, “Surprise me.” To which Hyunjin laughs like it’s the funniest suggestion ever before disappearing into the kitchens.

The other bartender there gives Chan a curious look, and he waves her off, hoping not to cause any more trouble than he feels like he already is. In response, he gets a look cast behind him, before the woman’s mouth curls into an amused smile. Briefly, he considers fleeing entirely, while Hyunjin is away and can’t stop him.

But before he summons the courage, Hyunjin is waltzing back out, one hand holding a drink and the other dangling a sparse keyring that seems to catch every light in the room. Swallowing, Chan forces himself to stand straighter, in an effort to not look nearly as nervous as he is.

“It’s sweet,” is all Hyunjin says, as he presses the bright, scarlet drink into Chan’s hand. “You seem like someone who likes sweet things.”

“Ah, yeah. Usually,” Chan agrees, watching as the man dances his way out from behind the bar. Ice clinks cheerfully in his glass as Hyunjin loops their arms together and starts tugging him across the room. “Are you- are you sure this is a good idea. I don’t want to intrude or make things weird or-”

“Chan.” Hyunjin’s tone is frank. “He’s going to be hooked from the moment he sees you. If you don’t want to do this, then by all means you’re free to go, but the problem isn’t going to be on his end.”

“Right,” Chan murmurs, clearing his throat and tightening his fingers around his drink. “No it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Thankfully, Hyunjin doesn’t grill him about it further. He just pulls Chan up a small flight of stairs to the private booth tucked into the corner. It’s far enough away from the music and general chatter that it’s nearly quiet. It’s close enough that you can see most everything. It’s enclosed enough that unless you’re right up next to it, you won’t have any idea what’s going on inside.

Feeling very much like he’s been led like a lamb to the slaughter, Chan watches Hyunjin produce the correct key and unlock the small door. It’s more decorative than anything- an enterprising individual could probably climb into the booth- but that defeats the purpose. This is a symbol. Another sign of exclusivity and wealth. One more little thing that makes it clear Chan is hilariously out of his element.

“Just wait in here,” Hyunjin promises, gesturing towards the dark, plush bench and sparklingly clean table. “He’ll be here before you know it.”

Sitting tentatively towards the back, where he’s least likely to be seen by the other patrons below, Chan wraps his other hand around his glass and fights not to hunch his shoulders. “Do I owe you anything for the drink.”

Hyunjin’s eyes dance with mirth. “Oh don’t worry, I’ll be putting it on his tab either way.”

Completely ignoring the sound of distress that escapes Chan’s nose, the bartender twiddles his fingers before gently closing the door once more and disappearing. Left alone to his fate, suddenly cripplingly aware of all the choices he’s made to get him to this point, Chan stares at his drink for several long seconds before lifting it up and taking a sip. 

Cherry and pineapple coats his taste-buds, almost entirely hiding the bitter tang underneath. Shivering, he takes a second sip, and then a third. He’s going to be fine, he tells himself, attempting to summon up some of the boundless confidence he’d had in his youth. As insane as all of this is, he’s supposed to be here, and if something goes horribly wrong, he can walk away. The worst that happens is he gets tossed out of the bar, and Hyunjin gets a scolding about who or who not to allow into private booths.

All he has to do is talk to the guy.

Minutes slip by, faster than Chan knows what to do with. He fixes his watch, he drinks most of his drink, and every now and then he’ll spend a few moments staring at the other people below him. It feels strange, sitting here so deliberately segregated from the more ordinary bar-goers. It feels wrong. A display of money he doesn’t actually have.

But if this all goes well… he might. If this goes really well, he may never have to worry about money again. Chan’s aware of just how shallow that sounds, but what had Felix said? This isn’t for anything deep. This is just because a pretty young heir to an unimaginable amount of money wants an older guy to fuck him. Maybe that absolves Chan of his side of the situation entirely.

Either way, he spends too long thinking about it. Right up until his watch lets him know it’s nine pm, and he’s startled out of his reverie by the sound of a door opening. Softly someone clears their throat. Caught off guard, Chan quickly turns and, inevitably, he freezes.

Kim Seungmin is even more breathtakingly beautiful in the flesh than he is posed perfectly for his Instagram feed. There’s the soft brown hair with the streak of pink. The big eyes, the full lips. The delicate collar-bones his half-buttoned shirt deliberately show off. He’s tall, with several inches on Chan, and legs that look even longer than they do in pictures. And of course his outfit is impeccable, from what’re obviously tailored pants, to the ear-cuff that’s studded with diamonds, to the body chain that disappears teasingly beneath his silk shirt, all of it suggesting so much, without ever stating it outright.

In that moment, captivated by the unnervingly intense stare he’s being given, Chan feels his mouth go dry.

Honestly, Chan expects to be thrown out. He shouldn’t be here. This was a terrible idea and he was stupid to even think about getting close to someone as evidently expensive as this man. Seungmin is about to none-too-politely tell him to ‘get out’ and he will! Because he already feels bad enough and he doesn’t want to make it worse.

But Seungmin doesn’t throw him out. Instead, his lips part, and he gives Chan another blatant once-over before his cheeks split into a big, gummy smile.

“If you tell me what you were drinking,” the man says, in the prettiest voice Chan thinks he’s ever heard. “I’ll get you another one.”

“It was pineapple and cherry,” Chan says dumbly. “Hyunjin didn’t tell me.”

Smile only widening, showing off every one of his perfect teeth, Seungmin closes the door behind him before sliding onto the booth beside Chan. Without hesitation, he reaches for the drink in question. Putting his mouth to the rim, he smoothly tips the glass back, draining it down to the ice. Watching, absolutely transfixed as the man swallows, Chan’s heart thumps weakly as Seungmin’s tongue darts out, catching the alcohol lingering on his lips.

“Rum,” Seungmin says, eyelashes fluttering as he looks back to Chan. “Top shelf.”

“I didn’t ask him for anything fancy,” Chan promises on a breath, unable to so much as glance away from the man’s face.

Chuckling, Seungmin sets Chan’s empty glass back down before scooting closer, easily pressing their thighs together. “Oh, I don’t care. I’d hate to think Hyunjinnie was making me look like a cheapskate.” His intonation suggests it’s a private joke Chan isn’t in on. “Incidentally, how do you know him?”

Chan thinks he’s going to start sweating. “We met last week.” Pausing, he admits, “I don’t know him. Just his name really.”

“And that he knows me,” Seungmin finishes, leaning on one of his elbows languidly. The shift shows off more pretty, flawless skin, inevitably drawing Chan’s attention. “And here I was worried he was holding out on me.”

“He wasn’t,” Chan assures Seungmin, because he genuinely has no idea what else to say. God, his brain feels fried and the other man has only been sitting here for a couple minutes at most. How is he going to survive? “It’s… nice to meet you.”

That earns him a giggle, one that sounds entirely genuine. “It’s nice to meet you too.” Seungmin’s cheeks bunch up cutely; he looks young enough in that moment that Chan is brutally reminded of what the man’s alleged age is. “I didn’t expect to have company tonight.”

Practically feeling his face grow warmer by the second, Chan offers, “I can leave, if you want me to.”

“No no, that was a comment, not me trying to scare you off.” One of Seungmin’s hands lands on his thigh, while the other reaches over and much more innocently catches his hand. “Besides, you haven’t even told me your name yet.”

“Chan.” Torn between staring at his lap and staring at the way Seungmin’s fingers delicately interlace with his, Chan has to force himself to breathe normally. “Bang Chan.”

Another giggle. “Well, Chan,” Seungmin hums, in that voice that’s doing terrible things to Chan’s head. “I think you should stay and drink with me. Because I’m alone, and you wouldn’t want me to feel lonely, now would you?”

And Chan, weak weak man that he is, quietly agrees, “No, I don’t.”

“Good.” Seungmin grins, wide and dazzling. “Now, let me call Hyunjin.”

There ends up being a button that lets whoever’s working the bar know they want service, and Chan is endlessly grateful that Hyunjin doesn’t comment on the fact he’s still there. All he gets is a soft, shockingly empty smile, and the man asking if he wants another drink. Seungmin smoothly answers for them both, rattling off Chan’s drink order like it’s second nature before giving his own. Then the man is gone again, leaving them alone.

“I’ve had such a long day,” Seungmin tells him passively, as he lounges out beside Chan, lazily looking out at the other patrons like he’s used to being above people. “Really, I’m glad you’re here. I was worried I was going to have to find my own entertainment.”

“I don’t know if I’m entertaining,” Chan says, as he watches the other man. Seungmin practically oozes confident elegance, so much so that even a nicer place like this feels run-down by comparison. “Sorry in advance.”

“Oh I’m sure we can find something to talk about.” Tipping his head back in Chan’s direction, Seungmin flashes his teeth. “What brought you here in the first place?”

“Coincidence,” Chan admits, trying very hard to ignore the way Seungmin’s hand has crept back into his lap.

“Do you like it here?” Seungmin’s lashes lower; he unsurreptitiously edges further into Chan’s personal space. “They did some renovations after I took ownership.” He says it so casually, like most people would talk about buying a particularly inexpensive piece of furniture.

“Ah, it’s a little…” Chan’s forced to clear his throat, as Seungmin gets a little too close to his face for comfort. He’s wearing some kind of gloss, leaving his lips shiny and inviting. Like they’d taste sweet. “I’m not used to places this nice.”

Seungmin’s eyes crinkle up. Laughing, he backs up, giving Chan some room to breathe. “This is nothing,” the man assures him, with a dismissive twitch of his head. “You should see some of the places I go. The parties, the venues… It might give someone like you a heart attack.”

“My health isn’t that bad,” Chan mutters, his brows furrowing self-consciously.

“Oh I wasn’t saying that.” Seungmin’s eyes wander lower over his body, one of his hands lifting to absently trace down Chan’s arm. “You look like you take very good care of yourself.”

“I try to.” Seungmin’s hands are warm; soft. They’re the hands of someone who’s never done hard labor in his life, and who’s never even considered the possibility. Chan can’t help but fixate on them, as the man’s fingers shift from his arm to the buttons of his shirt. Nervous- but not for any of the right reasons- he quickly blurts out, “What brings you here?”

When Seungmin looks up at him in momentary confusion, Chan quickly clarifies, embarrassment prickling at his throat. “No offense but you seem too… good for somewhere like this, I guess.” As Seungmin’s eyebrows creep up his forehead, he continues, “Not because it’s not nice it’s just-”

Finishing that with ‘you’re nicer’ sounds stupid so Chan bites his tongue. It’s too late though, Seungmin’s already laughing delightedly, adjusting so he can properly swing both legs over Chan’s lap. As was no doubt intentional, the position makes it incredibly easy to put an arm around the man’s shoulders. At least for the moment, Chan manages to resist.

“I wanted something to do,” Seungmin hums, once he’s brought himself back under control. His fingers daintily trail around the rim of his glass. Chan tries very hard not to notice the way Seungmin is pressed up against him. “Running this place keeps me occupied, if I want to be occupied.” Looking up through his lashes, the man smiles sweetly. “God forbid a man have hobbies.”

Almost grabbing one of Seungmin’s legs- to keep him from squirming so much, you understand- Chan attempts a nod. “It seems you’re doing a good job of it.”

That puts a new glimmer in Seungmin’s eyes, one that pacifies the danger behind that smile for a heartbeat. “You know most people don’t believe me when I say I’m in charge of this place.”

“Should I not?” Chan can’t help but ask.

Reaching up, completely ignoring the way he instinctively startles, Seungmin pokes at the crease in Chan’s forehead. “You should,” he hums, big brown eyes catching Chan’s. “I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a liar.”

Though he has absolutely no reason to, Chan believes Seungmin. Because why would someone like this, who could have anything and anyone he wants, ever feel the need to be anything but one-hundred percent honest. 

“Okay,” he says out loud, gaze fixed on Seungmin’s wrist.

Seungmin’s finger digs a little more firmly into Chan’s forehead, pinning him where he is effortlessly. As if the man sitting in his lap wasn’t enough. As if he weren’t completely at Seungmin’s mercy from even before he arrived. “Look at us,” the man breathes through parted lips, as his eyes rove Chan’s face. “Talking about such uninteresting things. You must be bored.”

Catching Seungmin’s wrist, Chan pulls the man’s hand down- back into his lap, not that he does it intentionally. “I don’t think you could bore me if you tried,” Chan admits, with maybe a bit too much honesty.

Eyes creasing, Seungmin curls his fingers around Chan’s. “You’re cute.”

Fighting the urge to cough, Chan dips his head; looks at their intertwined hands and wonders once again why he’s making such a horrible mistake. One that’s slow and avoidable enough that he could still leave and never look back.

Chan slips his arm around Seungmin’s waist. “I think you’re the cute one.”

“Then what does that make you?” Seungmin wonders, leaning back into Chan’s hold with evident relish.

Chuckling, Chan tips his head to the side, as a certain important piece of him starts to accept his chosen fate. “Like you said, I’m the entertainment.”

The sharp, deadly edge flickers to life behind Seungmin’s expression once more. “Well, I won’t say no to being entertained.”

In all honesty, Chan doesn’t know if he actually is entertaining, but after Seungmin’s second drink, the man certainly seems captivated. Their conversation isn’t inspired, but it does meander pleasantly, between little touches and meaningful looks. Something about the atmosphere of the club makes nothing that’s happening in this booth feel like it’ll have consequences, and after a while, even Chan ends up falling into the trap of it.

Besides, Seungmin makes it easy. Even when Chan’s wandering through admittedly dull anecdotes about his life, about his dog and his younger sister and her three precious children, the other man is fascinated. He prods deeper and asks genuine questions, and in fits and starts shares glimpses of himself.

Inevitably, Seungmin leads a far more eccentric lifestyle than Chan does. The stories he tells, or rather hints at, are of things Chan has no frame of reference for. Time and time again, Chan’s reminded of the fact that Changbin and Felix and Hyunjin weren’t kidding. Seungmin is wealthy, in the sorts of ways that all but the thin upper crust of society can only dare to dream about. But he treats it as normal, so Chan tries his best to do the same.

It’s odd, but Seungmin talks about his impossible lifestyle like it’s every bit as routine as Chan’s nine-to-five job. There’s a similar inherent dismissiveness he treats it with, the same borderline contempt. Yes, there’s a lot less of that soul crushing exhaustion, but Chan can recognize boredom in a second, no matter who it’s coming from.

Which, maybe, has something to do with why Seungmin’s currently draped in Chan’s lap and leaning against one of his shoulders while taking dainty sips from his cocktail glass. This, to him, is probably fun. And isn’t everyone entitled to a little fun every once in a while?

No doubt Chan’s going to wake up tomorrow absolutely horrified with how he’s acting now, but in the moment he plays into Seungmin’s little game. Because that’s clearly what this is. It’s not a horrifically bad decision with staggering moral consequences. It’s just Seungmin’s breath tickling the shell of his ear, and Chan’s hand ending up on one of the man’s thighs, palming lightly at lean muscle through those well tailored dress slacks. 

It’s fine.

Chan finds the bottom of his glass, and this time when Hyunjin comes to bring him a new drink, he immediately notes that it’s weaker than the last two. He’s nowhere close to drunk, but judging by the shine in Seungmin’s grin, he wants to keep it that way. Like so many other little details about the evening, Chan just lets it slide, instead taking a second to meet Hyunjin’s eyes before the man disappears once more.

There’s a knowing spark in that expression. He saw every bit of this coming and is beyond pleased to have been right. If Chan had a chance to, he would have tried to argue with whatever is going through Hyunjin’s mind. 

But the bartender is already disappearing, and Seungmin’s somehow managed to get one of the buttons of Chan’s shirt undone, so maybe Hyunjin has a point.

Seungmin’s skin is soft and oh-so-warm wherever he touches Chan. From the way his nose keeps brushing against Chan’s jaw to how his hands keep wandering wherever he can reasonably find a place to put them, he’s practically demanding to be touched back. Chan wants to say he’s keeping his hands to himself, but he’s not, not really.

Like Persephone, tempted by one pomegranate seed at a time.

“So,” Seungmin hums, as he swirls his third drink around in his glass. The conversation’s petered out at this point, become nothing but disjointed commentary whispered from lips to hair. “Chan.”

“So,” Chan echoes, as some of the nerves he felt when he first got here come trickling back in. Though at this point, he’s not sure what he’s scared of.

Making eye-contact with him, Seungmin’s expression freezes. Just for a second, caught in a perfectly innocent look that could have hidden anything. Then it animates once more, and he dips his chin.

“Are you not going to ask?”

Admittedly, it takes Chan a moment to make heads or tails of the question, let alone know what Seungmin’s referring to.

“Ask about what?”

Lips twitching, Seungmin tilts his head to the side. “About the money.” His words are tainted with condescension, even if he keeps his expression largely neutral. “About being my sugar daddy. Or… I suppose about me sugaring you?”

Oh, right. That. The entire reason Chan came here in the first place.

Looking down at Seungmin, lankly stretched out over his lap, that delicate little body chain catching the lights just right, Chan finds a question of his own popping out of his mouth.

“Are you going to ask how old I am.”

Seungmin snorts. “I don’t need to.”

I think I should be hurt by that. Ignoring the slight dent to his pride, Chan makes a gesture with his head, in lieu of having a free hand to use instead. “Exactly my point.”

That gets him a giggle, as well as Seungmin’s fingers sliding none-too-subtly down his chest. “I appreciate the bluster, but… you have no idea what you’re doing right now, do you Chan?”

He wonders if the correct answer is to lie, to keep pretending he’s on top of this situation until he actually is. But Seungmin’s slowly popping another button of Chan’s shirt, and he can’t quite find the wherewithal to lie. Much less the ability to do it convincingly.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Chan admits. “Like- in general.”

For the first time tonight since Seungmin sat down, Chan’s words actually give the man pause. Noticeably hesitating on the button he’s still got delicately pinched between thumb and middle finger, Seungmin looks up at Chan’s face through his lashes, careful consideration in every line of his face.

“Hyunjinnie told you about what I’m looking for.” It’s phrased like a question, but Seungmin delivers it like a statement.

“He did,” Chan confirms. As did everyone else in this terrible little step by step process that’s led him to Seungmin’s private booth in his personally owned bar.

“And you showed up,” Seungmin continues, like the answer is not evidently obvious.

“I did,” Chan says softly, hoping that the prickling at the base of his spine is shame and not something worse.

“So where’s the problem?”

Seungmin’s tone is surprisingly frank for the position they’re in. His hand hasn’t moved from Chan’s shirt, but the look on his face is no longer carefree and flirtatious. Instead it’s deliberate and calculating and knowing. Like he already can see what Chan’s going to say before he’s even formulated the thought, much less opened his mouth.

For a brief but terrible moment, Chan feels like he’s the twenty-year-old here. The child facing down something vastly more complex and grown up than he’s ready for. Like walking into a lion’s den, naive and unprepared. Which is crazy because he’s got two decades on this man, and even if he didn’t, he’s an adult. He should know what he’s doing.

The problem, Chan’s realizing, is he does know what he’s doing.

“I like you Seungmin,” he says, coloring at how juvenile the words sound. “Obviously. I’m here. But I’m not- it’s not because you might pay me.”

Almost at once, Seungmin’s expression relaxes. Deftly, his fingers pop the button of Chan’s shirt he’s been lingering on. “Oh Chan.” There’s something playfully admonishing in those two words. “You’re worrying too much.”

“I think I’m worrying an appropriate amount,” Chan manages, as one of Seungmin’s hands slides fully past his shirt. That soft palm against his chest is nearly enough to short-circuit his thoughts again. “I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

“You’re here because you think I’m pretty,” Seungmin hums, with the sort of confidence so innate, the option to be insecure never existed. “You’re here because you like me.”

The statement is accompanied by Seungmin’s fingertips digging into one of Chan’s pecs, with enough force it pulls a soft groan from him. Letting out a pleased murmur, Seungmin adjusts his position, until he can properly straddle Chan’s lap. It’s a motion so fluid, it’s clear he’s done it many times before.

As he’s brought face to face with the other man, Chan’s heart-rate kicks up. Like it wasn’t already hammering in his chest. “Seungmin-”

“I’m here because I think you’re hot,” Seungmin continues, entirely undaunted. His knees pinch Chan’s hips, a free hand comes to cup the side of his face. “And because you’re probably old enough to be my father, and I like that.”

There’s no hesitation to his words. Chan doesn’t know if he’d feel better if there had been, or worse.

“I’m here because you’ve managed to entertain me for several hours now, and that’s far better than the last one managed. Or the man before that. Or the one before him.” With each statement, he gets closer. Until they’re nose to nose, Seungmin’s breath fanning over Chan’s face, Seungmin’s lips brushing his with every word.

“You’re here because you want to fuck me.”

Even without seeing it, Chan can feel Seungmin’s smile.

“I do,” he admits, voice a croak.

“Good.”

He doesn’t want to admit it, but Chan moves first. Seungmin tastes like whatever fruity drinks he’s been sipping on. He tastes like the cherry gloss he was wearing when he first stepped into the private booth. He tastes like pineapple and strawberry and lime and the burn of alcohol and he doesn’t taste nearly enough like a bad decision. He doesn’t taste like something Chan’s going to be capable of regretting.

But oh, he’s going to. He knows that when Seungmin’s nails dig into the back of his neck and the man surges forward to meet the kiss. Every bit the dangerous predator he’s been the rest of the evening.

Instantly, Chan’s overwhelmed. Seungmin’s hands are on his shoulders and chest and in his hair. Any kind of decorum he’d been clinging to is stripped away from him, as effortlessly as Seungmin does away with the last two of his shirt buttons. It’s his imagination, but he swears they pop audibly, one after the other.

Teeth catch and scrape at Chan’s bottom lip before Seungmin is deepening their kissing once more. His body chain is shockingly warm where it brushes bare skin. All of this sitting here and worrying and hesitating seems pointless now. Not when he can reach his hands up and run them over the man’s thighs, his hips, his ass, his waist.

God, he has such a pretty waist, narrow enough Chan thinks he can wrap his hands around it. Letting Seungmin do what he wants with his mouth, Chan’s focus narrows on touching as much of the other as he can. Over his ribs and down his spine. Dipping below the man’s waistband before returning to those narrow hips. Hips that fit so well in his grip, like this is precisely what he’s supposed to do.

Groaning delightedly, Seungmin pulls back for long enough to rake his fingers through that immaculately styled hair. His gloss is smeared, a faint streak of red against his otherwise flawless skin. Without thinking Chan surges up to put his mouth to it, tasting more of that cherry flavor before he’s getting lost in Seungmin’s lips again. How soft they are. How unflinchingly greedy.

Seungmin takes from Chan like he’s never been told no in his life. With kiss after kiss, and hands squeezing and grabbing at whatever they can reach. He seems fixated on Chan’s more well defined muscles. His biceps, his shoulders, his pecs. Carelessly, Seungmin digs his fingers in until he’s almost certainly leaving marks behind. Fingerprints and the crescents of his nails, claiming Chan in a way he wants to reciprocate, maybe more than he should.

He probably shouldn’t mark Seungmin up; it feels like damaging a priceless piece of art. Chan can’t afford that sort of thing. No matter that he’s the one who’s got the offer of payment dangling a little too close to him for comfort, he’s not going to accept, right? So he needs to be careful. 

Even as those thoughts pass through his head, Seungmin is fisting a hand in his hair and dragging Chan towards the crook of his neck. “Like you mean it, Chan,” the man commands, his voice shockingly strong for how delicate he looks; for what they’ve been doing. “For me? Because I asked?”

There’s no need for further encouragement. Instinctively, Chan gets his teeth in Seungmin’s neck and sucks a harsh mark into the soft skin. He smells sweet; the same scent Chan’s been catching whiffs of all night is suddenly filling his head. Seungmin’s body chain brushes against his cheek. His shaky laugh echoes in Chan’s ears.

“You’re so straightforward, aren’t you?” Seungmin asks, tangling both hands in Chan’s hair as he trails his mouth lower. Down Seungmin’s collar bone, over his chest, as far down as his shirt will allow. “So predictable. I like that.”

I like that… Seungmin’s soft, teasing words circle Chan’s head. He wants that, he wants Seungmin to like him. He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, but he does. Enough that even that much breathless praise has his dick twitching in his pants, coming to life far quicker than he’d like to admit.

So he doesn’t. Instead he runs his hands along Seungmin’s spine and keeps leaving marks on the man’s skin, one after another. They aren’t particularly large ones, nothing that’s going to bruise up for more than a day or two at most, but he knows Seungmin’s enjoying it. If his pleased vocalizations weren’t enough, the way he’s wriggling in Chan’s lap would be plenty.

Cursing internally at the way Seungmin’s hips roll down against his crotch, Chan pulls the man down for another kiss. Messier this time, more heated. Seungmin’s tongue ends up in his mouth and Chan gets a hand tangled in that perfect hair. He feels like there’s simultaneously not enough room between them and entirely too much. Without the strength to make a decision either way, all he can do is let Seungmin take the lead, and follow where he goes.

Grinding down on Chan once more, Seungmin’s lips quirk against his mouth. “You want me that much?”

Breath catching, Chan struggles and fails to find words as Seungmin rubs up against his swelling erection. The answer is yes but when he tries to get that out, all that escapes him is a telling groan. One that Seungmin eagerly eats off his tongue.

Chan’s head spins. Partially because all his blood is rushing south, and partially because Seungmin is biting at his bottom lip. It’s been a long time since he’s wanted anyone this much, and he’s struggling to remember who or when it was, with this man demanding his attention so thoroughly. 

Does it matter? It can’t matter that much, not right now.

One of Seungmin’s hands worms between them and strokes over Chan’s dick. His fingers kneed into it firmly, purposefully. Grunting, Chan bucks up into the touch, and swears something fundamentally changes in his brain chemistry when Seungmin’s only answer is to laugh.

“You’re big,” Seungmin says, whispering the words in Chan’s ear like they’re a delightful secret.

“Thank you?” Chan guesses, inhaling sharply as Seungmin returns to rutting up against him. He thinks he can feel the man’s erection against his hip and it’s making his brain go to places it probably shouldn’t. Especially not in a crowded club.

Pressing their foreheads together, Seungmin heatedly says, “I want you.” He accents the words with a sharp roll of his hips. “I want to taste you. Will you let me, Chan?”

“I-” Chan’s not sure how he can say no to anything right now. Not with the way Seungmin is rubbing against him, fingers tugging at his hair just hard enough to make his scalp sting.

“It’s a simple question.” Seungmin says it so casually, lips dragging over Chan’s jaw. “I want to suck you off, do you want that too?”

Chan’s dick throbs in his pants. “Yes, but-”

“Good.”

Almost at once, Seungmin is pulling back, almost giving Chan vertigo with how quickly he moves. In the next second, he’s disentangling them, freeing his hands before inching backwards towards the table. Too stunned to argue, Chan lets go of Seungmin’s waist and watches enthralled as the man flashes him a wink before sinking down between Chan’s knees.

“Fuck,” Chan groans, as Seungmin settles fully on the floor, his mussed hair and messy smile visible from under the lip of the table. “You- you don’t have to-”

“It’s cute you still think you need to look out for me.” Shifting, entirely uncaring that he’s kneeling on what must be a dirty, sticky floor, Seungmin fists one hand in Chan’s jeans before cupping his dick with the other hand. Even that much is enough to have Chan shivering, grabbing for the edge of the table to steady himself. 

I should be the one on my knees, he almost says, as he watches Seungmin press a cheek to his thigh, and drag a thumb up Chan’s clothed erection. His eyes are closed, a deeply satisfied parted lip smile curls his kiss swollen mouth. You’re unfathomably rich and I’m some guy who came here because I couldn’t talk myself out of it.

“I- I still don’t know if-”

Seungmin’s eyes pop open, and words fail Chan as every other coherent thought leaves his head. Everything but the hand tracing purposeful patterns over his dick, and those sparkling, dark eyes.

“Stop second guessing yourself,” Seungmin commands, as his fingers climb to Chan’s belt, making frighteningly quick work of removing it. “You want it, right? You want me.”

“Yes,” Chan breathes. There’s so much he should be saying, but Seungmin is unbuttoning his jeans, and it’s got him tongue-tied. How could he not want someone this perfect? 

Smiling, gums showing, Seungmin inches closer before biting Chan’s zipper and effortlessly dragging it down. Huffing out a breath as his erection is given a little more room to breathe, he forces himself to unclench his fingers from the table before asking, “Are you sure you want to do this here?”

“Are you embarrassed?” Seungmin purrs, without a hint of shame in his own gaze.

“I- we’re in public?” Chan manages, through the sensation of Seungmin nosing up against his erection through his boxers. This man is going to kill him, destroy him without even realizing it. “Someone might-”

“Might see?” Eyes sliding closed, Seungmin nuzzles closer. “Maybe, but no one’s going to bother me. Or…” His tongue flicks out, dampening the material of Chan’s underwear, making his dick pulse. “Anyone I’m with.”

It must be normal for him, Chan thinks hazily, as Seungmin flattens his tongue deliberately over the tip of his erection. Not caring what people think, what they’ll say. Chan won’t pretend he’s the most self-conscious person in the world, but there are certain barriers he’s never even thought of crossing, let alone been given the opportunity to do so.

And yet here he is, in the middle of a crowded bar, with Seungmin between his knees, mouthing at his cock through his boxers with single-minded focus. 

Maybe he shouldn’t care about anything else either.

“Let me suck you off, Chan,” Seungmin hums, low enough the words are almost lost to the noise around them. 

Fuck. “Yeah,” Chan says on an exhale. “I- yes, Seungmin, please-”

Without letting him finish his sentence, Seungmin tugs Chan’s underwear out of the way with a finger. He can’t quite hold back the breath of relief as his dick springs free of its confines. Much like Seungmin can’t entirely hide the way his eyes widen as he sizes him up before eagerly wrapping his hand around Chan’s erection.

“Oh, I have to keep you.” With the way the man is stroking him, nails just barely scraping sensitive skin, Chan almost misses the reverence in Seungmin’s voice. The dry friction feels far more important. “Look at you.”

All Chan’s looking at is how close Seungmin is to his dick; at those pretty lips and that streak of pink hair that’s hanging in his eyes. He feels like he’s exercising every ounce of self control he has not to yank the man closer. Even in a situation like this, Seungmin looks angelic.

Maybe he needs to find a different way to describe him though, because there’s absolutely nothing holy about the way Seungmin meets his eyes before deliberately drooling onto the head of Chan’s cock.

“I think you could ruin me with this dick,” he hums, as he resumes his even, pointed stroking. It’s just enough stimulation to have Chan wanting more, but it’s nowhere near enough to get him anywhere. “You’re old, so you might not have the refractory period I do, but that’s fine. You wouldn’t leave me unsatisfied.”

As the lines between his thoughts blur, Chan stares down at Seungmin’s hand, at the almost hypnotizing way the man drags his fist up and over the tip of his dick before slowly stroking down once more. Already, the spit is drying, leaving chafing skin and a very particular need building up in Chan’s muscles, in his gut. It’s too slow and it’s not enough but he doesn’t dare ask for more and it’s leaving him simultaneously frustrated and unable to do anything about it.

“You could fuck me right here,” Seungmin muses, his breath hot against Chan’s erection. “On the bench- on the table.” Leaning forward once more, he spits on where his fingers meet Chan before resuming his stroking. “I’d have to keep my voice down so no one noticed, not that anyone here is going to tell me no.”

“I- hold on.” Am I really ready to go that far? I can’t take him home or something? Blinking, as a little awareness of what they’re doing and what Seungmin’s suggesting trickles in, Chan fights to put together a coherent sentence. “Maybe we should- should slow down.”

“Hmm.” Lowering his lashes, Seungmin’s eyes flick up briefly to Chan’s face before looking down at his dick once more. “Fine, maybe not on the table tonight. But you’ll definitely have to let me have you later then. Again. And again. And again.”

With each word, Seungmin’s grip on Chan’s dick tightens, strokes become more purposeful, until they drag a groan from deep in his chest. It’s not enough, but Seungmin looks so pretty on his knees, and Chan wants what he’s suggesting. He probably shouldn’t, but in this position, it’s impossible not to at least think. To imagine having someone this beautiful and eager stretched out underneath him. Like he’s twenty-five again, instead of forty-three.

But…

“Seungmin.” Chan’s voice comes out rougher than he wants it to. His eyes are still fixed to the way Seungmin’s touching him. “It’s not- you’re not keeping me. I told you-”

Teasingly, Seungmin drags his tongue up the underside of Chan’s dick, quick and promising so much more. “Name your price.” His tone is both giddy and impatient. “Anything.”

“I don’t-” Head spinning, Chan tries to insist, “There isn’t a price.”

“Ten thousand a month.” Dark eyes lighting with hunger, Seungmin tightens his grip in Chan’s bunched up pants. “No, twenty-thousand.”

Chan wants to balk at how insane Seungmin sounds right now, but before he can, the man’s lips are wrapping around the head of his dick properly, and that’s far more important. After so much teasing, even this much has him bucking his hips up sharply. He half expects Seungmin to retreat, but all the man does is let out a happy sounding moan and slip down a little further. 

Seungmin’s mouth is hot, his lips stretching prettily to accommodate Chan. Though it’s clear he’s still intent on taking his time, he’s too impatient to fully wait. Judiciously deciding to ignore their earlier conversation in favor of this, Chan weaves his fingers into Seungmin’s hair and does his best not to grip too tightly.

Looking up through his lashes once more, Seungmin gives another pleased sound before pulling his head back slowly. He makes it a show, the way he lets Chan slip from between his lips. Holding Chan’s cock on his tongue for a handful of seconds, he giggles breathlessly before returning to stroking him. Still teasing, even now.

“Fine,” Seungmin breathes, rearranging himself on the floor so he can crawl a little bit further into Chan’s lap. “I’m low-balling you. Thirty-five thousand a month. And I’ll pay for any housing expenses you have.”

“I-” Chan can’t quite connect his brain to his tongue. It doesn’t help that Seungmin’s pressing his face against Chan’s dick, so he can mouth at the base of it. Unconsciously, his hand tightens in the man’s hair. “I don’t want your money, Seungmin. I just- fuck.”

There’s something distinctly merciless about the way Seungmin swallows him down once more, until Chan can feel his dick bumping against the back of the man’s throat. It gives him very little room to think, to properly parse out what’s being said to him or what’s being offered. All he knows is that’s a lot of money, and it’s taking everything in him not to thrust into Seungmin’s mouth. Especially when he’s making such delighted sounds every time Chan almost does.

Thirty-five thousand? When was the last time Chan saw that kind of money all in one place at the same time? Not in his bank account, that’s for sure.

He forgets it’s an issue at all when Seungmin takes him all the way to the hilt, with little to no hesitation. Almost at once, the man is giving a pleased hum and closing his eyes, like he wants nothing more. It sends vibrations up Chan’s dick, and he can’t help the curse he bites out in response. Nor is he able to stop the way he grips Seungmin’s hair, holding him there without thinking. 

Around them, the noise of the bar swells in his ears. Sincerely, Chan hopes no one knows what they’re doing in here. More pressingly, he hopes Hyunjin doesn’t suddenly appear. Not when Seungmin is moaning around his dick and bobbing his head shallowly, sending sparks of pleasure up through his thighs and spine.

Suddenly, Seungmin’s pulling back off of him once more and Chan only has enough time to refocus on the man’s face before he’s speaking again.

“Everyone has a price, Chan.” His voice is rougher than it was before, his lips are glistening with spit. “It’s okay, you’re allowed to.”

“I don’t,” Chan tries to insist. “I- I’m flattered, but I’d rather just sleep with you because I want to and not-”

“And I want to fuck you more than just once.” Fisting Chan’s dick again, Seungmin returns to jerking him off, a hungry look in his eyes. “Forty-five thousand. I’ll take you anywhere in the world you want. I’ll buy you anything you ask for. Anything.”

Chan feels like he’s dreaming, but he can’t tell if it’s a good dream, or a nightmare. “If you just ask, I’ll be happy to-”

Before he can finish his thought, Seungmin’s mouth is on his dick again. He swirls his tongue around the tip before taking Chan down to the base once more. Constricting his throat, letting a reedy moan rise above the din of the bar, he looks up at Chan imploringly before bobbing his head. It feels heavenly, but it brings with it the distinct sensation that he’s being dragged to hell. With no hope of escape.

It’s enthralling to watch, how much Seungmin seems to be enjoying himself, just sucking Chan’s dick. His cheeks are flushed, he’s squirming where he sits. There’s something desperately eager to the way he’s moving, like somehow Chan is the one doing something for him right now.

Judging by the way Seungmin’s got a hand between his spread thighs, he really might be. 

More shakily than he wants to, Chan forces his grip on Seungmin’s hair to relax. Dragging his fingers through silky brown locks, he tries to get as much of an eyeful of the man beneath him as he can. At the obscene way Seungmin’s mouth stretches to fit him, the way his lashes flutter, and the way his free hand strangles Chan’s pants. He’s defiling something expensive right now, something untouchable, and yet if he was asked to, he thinks he’d beg for it.

Because God does it feel good. Already he can feel that particular tension building up in his limbs, as heat crawls up through his body and electricity sparks in his gut. Chan can only imagine the kind of practice required to get this good at sucking dick, but all he cares about is that for this brief moment, he has Seungmin. He has this beautiful, unreal man all to himself, and that’s all that matters.

No sooner has he had that thought, however, than Seungmin is pulling back once more. Chan just barely stops himself from whimpering the man’s name as those lips pop off of him with an audible sound. That, and an utterly breathless smile from Seungmin, one that’s only slightly marred by the mess of spit and leftover gloss around his mouth.

Something in Chan wants to demand the man keep going. To curse at yet another interruption. He swears he’s so hard right now that it hurts. Something that isn’t at all made better by the way Seungmin mouths sloppily at the side of his dick, moaning unabashedly as he does. But he can’t quite work his tongue, and Seungmin speaks before he figures it out.

“You don’t understand Chan, you’re exactly what I want.” Shifting the hand between his legs, drawing another faint, needy sound from himself, Seungmin stares up at him. “I have to have you.”

Just those words alone have Chan’s dick twitching and pre-cum beading at the tip. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he likes the thought of someone wanting him that much. Enough that they’re willing to do anything for it. Especially someone like Seungmin.

That being said-

“It doesn’t have to involve money,” Chan insists, not sounding particularly convincing when he’s this winded and this wound up. “We- we can just fuck.”

“Fifty-thousand.” Seungmin’s hand wraps around Chan’s dick. His tone is manic in a way that shouldn’t be half as hot as it is. “I’ll take you with me everywhere. I’ll introduce you to people and show you things you’ve only ever dreamed of.”

Shallowly jerking up into Seungmin’s palm, breath practically trembling in his lungs, Chan nearly chokes as the man licks at his tip, pulling the mess he’s leaking into his mouth. “Seungmin, I don’t want to- to be introduced to people or- fuck- can we please have this conversation later?”  

“I think it’s relevant right now,” Seungmin argues.

Chan wants to cry. “We’re busy.”

“We can still talk,” Seungmin insists, as he starts pumping Chan’s dick once more. “Your mouth isn’t busy.”

“I can’t focus like this.”

“Then don’t focus.” Seungmin crawls further into his lap, almost bumping his head on the table in his haste to get closer to Chan. “Just say yes.”

Chan’s dick pulses demandingly in Seungmin’s grip. His heart thumps wildly in his chest. “That isn’t-”

“Sixty-five thousand.” And like every offer before it, there isn’t a hint of a lie in Seungmin’s eyes. He means it. As insane as that amount of money sounds, he means it. “Just let me keep you Chan, I’ll treat you so well. You’ll get to fuck me every night. In my bed. In my cars. Every surface of my house. Hell, you can do it in my private jet too. Whenever you want. As many times as you want me.”

“Seungmin-”

But the man’s mouth is on his dick again, and Chan can’t even begin to try and form an argument past that.

He’s so fucking close. His thighs are practically trembling, like his entire body is a taught rubber band and Seungmin is the fingers plucking at it. Chan is a slave to that mouth, to each sound that leaves the man’s chest that sends vibrations through his lower half. He can hardly hear the club anymore, the voices he knows surround them. All of it is background static to this. To Seungmin. To those beautiful eyes.

Jerking his hips up without thinking, Chan curses aloud at the way Seungmin chokes, at the gorgeous, desperate look on his face. This is what he wants. He doesn’t want money, he doesn’t want things. He doesn’t want fancy promises or a life worthy of glossy magazines. All he wants is Seungmin. Under him, on top of him, in his hands. Whatever the man wants. Chan is here to give it to him.

Rolling his hips forward again, Chan watches Seungmin take him through bleary eyes. Even if he never gets this again, he’s going to remember it forever. Every time he closes his eyes, every time he jerks off, it’s going to be this right here that hovers in his thoughts. That unmeasurable willingness, and Seungmin touching himself frantically as he takes Chan’s dick.

Deep throating him once more, Seungmin swallows once and Chan swears he can feel his orgasm right there, just out of reach. His whole body is hot, the nerves in his thighs and stomach are misfiring. He can still taste the cherry of Seungmin’s lip gloss on the back of his tongue.

Like a bite of forbidden fruit, lingering long after the deed has been done.

And it’s in that second, where he’s hovering on the edge, that Seungmin pulls back once more and tightens his fingers around the base of Chan’s dick.

“Sh-shit.” Nearly doubling over as his climax climbs up his chest before fizzling out, Chan blinks down at Seungmin desperately, unable to see straight. “Seungmin please,” he begs, without a second’s hesitation. “I- I’m so close-”

“Seventy-thousand.” Seungmin’s voice is hoarse, his eyes are watery, but they still burn right through Chan. “Every month. Just let me keep you.”

“I- I’m not for sale,” Chan chokes out, looking from Seungmin’s face to his own dick, pulsing between those pretty, long fingers. It’s flushed so deeply it almost looks purple in this lighting. “You don’t need to buy me, just-”

“You’ll never have to work again.” Tortuously slow, Seungmin starts jerking him off, dragging fingers through his own saliva and Chan’s pre-cum. “I’ll set you up with a nice, comfortable job. You won’t have to do a thing. Just follow me around and fuck me. I can give you a life you can’t even imagine.”

The muscles in Chan’s thighs jump and twitch. Leaning more of his weight on them, Seungmin looks up at him, with something approaching adoration. It’s backwards, all of this is backwards, but Chan isn’t thinking about that. He’s just thinking about the hand on his dick, and the way Seungmin’s tongue swipes slowly over his lips.

“Seungmin.” Chan’s voice shakes. “Please. Please.”

“Seventy-five thousand.” Seungmin breathes the number over the tip of Chan’s dick. “Say yes and I’ll let you cum on my face.”

It’s as much money as Chan makes in an entire year. And Seungmin wants to give it to him. All for something Chan would have begged for regardless.

Chan’s resolve splinters to pieces.

“Yes- Fuck, yes fine Seungmin, just please-”

Instantly, Seungmin is deep throating him again, and Chan nearly sobs at the pleasure that rolls through him once more. Hot and overwhelming, all-consuming, and right from the hands of Seungmin. This terrible and beautiful creature that has stepped into his life and in one fell swoop entirely claimed it.

Considering how close he is, it doesn’t take Chan long. All Seungmin does is hollow his cheeks and bob his head over him a couple more times before pulling back, stroking him quickly as he does. After being denied what he wants for so long, Chan’s self control is entirely shot. He just lets the sensations sweep over him, lets the tension build and build in his gut and thighs until he aches with it.

When he cums, it’s while staring into Seungmin’s eyes. The world swims in his vision with the force of his orgasm, but he fights it. Watches enthralled instead as his release splatters up and over Seungmin’s lips, his cheek, his nose, almost getting in his eye with the force of it. And all Seungmin does is smile and stick out his tongue, catching some of the mess and pulling it into his mouth like it’s a delicacy. 

Like Chan is a feast.

Cursing as his dick spits up another dribble of cum, Chan shakily struggles to move. To adjust himself on the bench and disentangle the way he’d been fisting Seungmin’s hair. Like a silent command for him to stay, Seungmin tightens the grip he’s still got in Chan’s pants before deliberately leaning forward and pulling Chan’s dick into his mouth once more.

He’s more gentle this time, but he still makes a point of cleaning Chan off. Carefully, thoroughly. Worshipfully. Chan can practically taste Seungmin’s unspoken words in the air as he does. This is him taking care of something that’s his. Because Chan caved. He agreed to the man’s terms, and now Seungmin is going to take full advantage of his victory.

Watching mesmerized as Seungmin lets his limp dick slip from between shiny lips once more, Chan struggles to find his voice. When that fails him, he reaches out and tries to wipe some of the cum off of the other man’s face. All he does is smear it, making a bigger mess. Grinning, all gums and pretty teeth, Seungmin catches Chan’s hand and wraps his mouth around the offending thumb, slowly pulling himself up off the floor as he does.

“You’re cute,” Seungmin mumbles around the digit, allowing Chan to drag him back upright and out from under the table. “And you’re mine.” He says it like he’s drunk off the knowledge, swaying closer as he spreads his thighs over Chan’s lap once more. “All mine.”

Chan doesn’t even try and argue at this point. Instead, he puts a hand to Seungmin’s back and presses him closer. Until the man is properly straddling him, and Chan can feel Seungmin’s erection pressing against his hip.

“Want help with that?” he asks, once he’s sure he’s got his vocal cords back under control.

Letting Chan’s thumb fall out of his mouth, Seungmin hums deep in his throat. “And then you’ll fuck me later?” he asks, as he rocks over Chan’s thigh and shudders. “Once I’ve gotten you home?”

“Of course,” Chan promises. Anything you want. He doesn’t say it out loud, because he’s pretty sure Seungmin already knows exactly what’s going through his head, but he thinks it. Thinks it as he spits in his palm and reaches down the man’s already undone pants. Tries to communicate it with actions and not words as he fists Seungmin’s dick and pulls a soft, sweet moan from the man’s mouth.

Seungmin fits nicely in his fingers, the curve of his dick rests perfectly in his palm. The man is already leaking, pre-cum making a mess of the inside of his boxers. Dragging a thumb through it, Chan revels in the little shiver he gets, one that passes past the hand he has flat on Seungmin’s back. Looking at the man’s face, at the mess still decorating the bridge of his nose and his upper lip, Chan makes eye-contact before stroking Seungmin. Firm and a little rougher than he might have been otherwise.

“A-ah- Just like that,” Seungmin breathes, eyelids fluttering closed, arching up into Chan’s touch so easily. “Chan-”

If Chan had been a much younger man, just the sound of Seungmin whining his name like that would have been enough to get him going again. As it is, he coaxes the man’s face into his shoulder and sets a steady pace with his hand. Fast enough to have Seungmin shuddering and jerking against him. Slow enough that he gets to enjoy the show, since he’s being allowed this chance to see it.

It truly is gorgeous, Seungmin steadily falling apart for him. His body shakes, his hands find Chan’s shirt and cling on. For how quick he’s been all night to take charge, he’s remarkably willing to let someone else take the lead. And Chan does, adjusting how he’s sitting until he’s got Seungmin straddling one of his thighs and the man’s neck within easy reach of his mouth.

Seungmin tastes, if possible, even better than before. With sweat beading on his skin and his pulse hammering hard enough for Chan to feel it on his tongue. As he works his hand over the man’s dick, he nibbles at everything he can reach, leaving little hickies that get more insistent as Seungmin gets louder. Until he knows there are going to be bruises visible for days after.

Part of Chan can’t help but worry someone is going to hear them, as Seungmin’s voice rises in his ears. The rest of him is struggling to care. Not when he has Seungmin groaning out his name so sweetly, entirely unconcerned with everyone knowing who is doing this to him. Every time he does, it feels like another reminder that Chan’s been claimed, by someone far more powerful than he is.

Well, if Seungmin thinks he’s worth that much money, then maybe he should act like it.

His hand slides over Seungmin’s erection with minimal friction. The man is close, judging by the way he keeps spitting up pre-cum and trembling with every pass of Chan’s hand. Apparently, blowing Chan was enough to work Seungmin up plenty. To the point where he can’t help but wonder if, given long enough, the man could have gotten off exactly like that. On the floor with a cock down his throat. 

“You sound pretty,” Chan hums, teeth scraping over the shell of Seungmin’s ear. He twists his wrist as he speaks, working over the man’s dick a little more quickly. “Love seeing you like this.”

Giving a staccato laugh, one that escapes between his uneven breaths, Seungmin flashes Chan a smile. One that’s cocky and knowing and entirely too hot. It dissolves a second later, but the message is clear, and it’s enough to tempt Chan into chasing the man’s mouth for a messy kiss.

Teeth clack against each other. Lips miss more than they connect. He can taste himself still lingering on Seungmin’s mouth. Chan also tastes the lust beneath it, the want, and the unmistakable intoxication of victory. 

He’s so proud of himself, so delighted to have finally gotten what he wanted. Nevermind that he had Chan since Changbin first showed him those pictures. From the very second he stepped into this booth with those gorgeous eyes and musical voice and big gummy smiles. No, Seungmin has still won something by getting Chan to give in, and he’s reveling in it. Unabashed.

Shameless.

“I knew as soon as I saw you,” Seungmin pants out against Chan’s mouth, rocking his hips forward in time with each stroke, practically fucking Chan’s fist as he does. “I knew I had to have you. I knew- f-fuck- I knew you were going to be mine. You’re everything I wanted.”

“You have me.” Chan’s voice is almost more unsteady than Seungmin’s is, as he stares into those dark, hungry eyes and lets himself be devoured. “I promise, you have me.”

“And I’m going to have you for forever,” Seungmin tells him, fingers sliding up until he can hold Chan’s face between them. Even as Chan jerks him off swiftly between their heated bodies, and his thighs tremble with the strain of moving his hips. “Whenever I want you, however I want you, you’re going to let me have you. Because I’ve decided you’re mine, Chan. Mine.”

As Seungmin’s fingers dig into Chan’s cheeks and jaw hard enough to hurt, he breathes out, “I’m yours, Seungmin.”

Yours.

Like that’s all he needed to push him over the edge, Seungmin’s body stiffens in Chan’s hands and he cums. Over Chan’s fingers, over both of their clothes, over his own exposed stomach. With absolutely no care for the mess he’s making, or what the consequences will be. Enthralled, by the way the man’s face contorts, by the way the intensity in his eyes lessens for just a second, as something briefly vulnerable takes its place.

Then it’s gone, and Seungmin is melting into Chan’s arms, taking a second to steady his breathing before letting out a purr of contentment. One that’s audible even over the continued noise of the bar around them.

Gently, Chan extricates his hand from where he’s still gripping Seungmin’s softening dick. Wiping his hand rather gracelessly on the seat beside him, he decidedly tightens his hold on Seungmin’s waist, giving them both a moment to drift. To allow reality to return to them in pieces, instead of forcing it all at once.

It’s nice.

Deceptively peaceful.

Murmuring out a tired laugh, Seungmin catches Chan’s unbuttoned shirt and takes a second to properly clean off his face. Giving the man a look, Chan is rewarded with a cheeky grin, and Seungmin chirping, “I’ll buy you a new shirt tomorrow.”

Chan coughs. “Uh, before. Were you-?”

“Serious?” Seungmin bats his eyelashes up at Chan. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.” When Chan’s expression doesn’t change, the man sticks his bottom lip out in a kiss-swollen pout. “You agreed, Chan. Don’t tell me you’re going to back out now.”

“That’s a lot of money,” Chan points out.

“It’s pocket change,” Seungmin dismisses.

Chan pulls a face. “Seventy-five thousand dollars a month is at least two pockets if not more.”

“But you will let me keep you, yes?” Seungmin’s stare is shockingly level, for what they were doing not but five minutes ago.

It’s insane. Chan’s been thinking it all night, but he can’t help but have it again as he stares into Seungmin’s eyes. He’s a lonely, tired forty-three year old who’s just barely middle class. The last serious relationship he had ended with Minho dating his best friend. Of all the people Seungmin could choose, Chan is at the bottom of the barrel.

But is it so bad, to want to be chosen? Even if at the end of the day, all it’s worth is a check, at least someone picked him.

Chan dips his head.

“Yeah, you can keep me.”

“Good.” Seungmin kisses his cheek. “You can sign the contract later tonight. Once I’ve gotten you home.”

Though he suspects he has no idea what he’s getting himself into, at least, Chan reasons, It’ll be something to remember.

⊸⏣⟜