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It was always like this; touches in the dark, emphasized by grunts, pants, and the slapping of skin. Shouto knew it all too well, since it’s what he did for up to 20 hours a week, depending on his demand for the month.
In need of supplemental income, Todoroki Shouto took to sex work about 2 years ago. He started solo with faceless shots posted to a personal account. The money was fine, but the market was saturated and he found the lack of physical connection a bit lonesome. Also, setting up elaborate shots to continue pleasing his plateauing audience became entirely too burdensome. About 1 year in, one of his regular subscribers messaged him about a new business venture that he wanted to recruit Shouto for—faceless, nameless escorting in the dark.
Shouto initially thought he was being offered a professional glory hole position and nearly blocked the man. But a quick explanation cleared the air; private rooms cloaked in darkness, fake names, NDAs, and all the makings for purely anonymous intimacy. Truthfully, none of the details mattered to Shouto until he heard how much he would be making as an escort. The number nearly made him drop his phone and faint.
Needless to say, it was a persuasive amount. Work was slow at first, as to be expected of such a niche affair. His first customer chose the pseudonym Daddy and it took everything in Shouto to play the part and call him that for the paycheck. The cover of total darkness meant the man never saw Shouto’s grimace every time he was forced to utter the name while riding his cock. The next one didn’t tell him a name, but wanted Shouto to play the role of a brat, goading him with high-pitched whines and light insults until he finished in a slumped pile on top of Shouto. He also cried afterwards and demanded Shouto tell him how good it was, so it was an interesting experience.
Of course, Shouto only took customers he could handle. Each worker could create pseudonyms of their own to protect their identities and had a list of do’s and dont’s to protect their boundaries. Customers were made aware of these prior to booking an appointment, so he’s yet to hook up with anyone that desired to cross any of his explicit boundaries. Shouto never opted for a permanent pseudonym—just labeled as Number One for booking purposes—and preferred to let the customers call him whatever worked at the time. Living a double life with a fake name seemed like too much work, and he’d rather spend his mental energy elsewhere.
Some men got insistent about hearing a name, though, so he eventually added ‘No asking for my name. You can give me one.’ to his list of boundaries. It surprisingly boosted his business; a larger swath of men just enjoyed the extra control, Shouto concluded.
So here he is now, 2 years later, much more experienced, and getting pounded from behind by a man that wanted to be called My Lord . Shouto almost laughed when he heard the name, but kept his composure. It definitely wasn’t the weirdest request, but he never thought medieval-esque sex would enter his repertoire.
After a few more pumps and a couple more Ah, yes, please bury your seed in me, My Lord from Shouto, he’s done and out the door before Shouto can even turn over onto his back. They usually leave pretty fast, collecting their clothes from the adjoining room and leaving a tip if they’re generous. Mr. My Lord didn’t seem like the generous type, so Shouto won’t hold his breath and expect anything to be left behind.
With a sigh, he cleans himself up and heads into the adjoining room once he’s sure the customer has exited. It’s Shouto’s “living room” but really just operates as a place to relax outside of the darkness of the designated bedroom. More of a waiting room with a mini kitchen and bathroom, really. Grabbing his silk robe from the closet and a tea bag from the cabinet, he boils some water in the electric kettle. He also takes note of the lack of a tip left anywhere. Figures.
Not long after preparing his tea and settling onto the couch to check his phone, Shouto hears the cleaning crew make their way in, offering polite waves and hellos before heading into the bedroom to tidy up.
“Oh, by the way, sir,” One of the cleaners pokes their head out of the doorframe, “Your next customer will be here within the next two-ish hours, so we’ll get this done quick, just in case you need to rest!” she finishes with a tiny salute before ducking back into the room.
It’s a considerate gesture, really. Shouto’s heard that some workers prefer to sleep in the bedroom between scheduled customers, so they no doubt assumed him to be the same. However, he likes to keep a clear delineation between where he sleeps, shits, and fucks for money, so Shouto often opts to rest on the couch. Sometimes he’ll bring a pillow or two from his own home to rest on—they’re much more preferable to the ones he drools and cums on while getting plowed.
Shouto’s a bit surprised to hear that he has another customer, though. He typically memorizes his schedule for each day to mentally prepare, so he thought My Lord was the last for today. Quickly opening his mobile schedule, Shouto scanned over the screen to see that he indeed did have a customer scheduled a couple hours from now. It looks like the appointment was made while he was…busy, so no wonder he was unaware of it until now. This will affect his dinner plans, but he’s sure Mochi won’t mind if she gets fed a bit later than usual on Thursdays.
The hours pass in the blink of an eye. Shouto showers, re-preps himself, and tidies up the living room in the meantime. About 20 minutes before the customer is set to arrive, Shouto replaces his robe in the closet and heads into the bedroom to wait. He used to go in and wait for up to an hour due to initial nerves, but sitting in the silence of darkness for longer than 20 minutes was miserable, as he came to find out.
The remaining minutes also pass quickly. Shouto hears the familiar click of the door in the next room as someone shuffles around, no doubt removing their clothing. It’s winter, so maybe they have a few layers to take off. Shouto likes to keep the living room fairly warm, so he hopes the customer isn’t too uncomfortable with the temperature.
After a few more minutes, a light knock at the bedroom door startles Shouto slightly. Nobody ever knocks.
“Oi, you ready in there?” a strong voice calls from the other side. Shouto stares blankly in the general direction of the door. Nobody ever knocks and asks if he’s ready.
“Yeah.” is all he breathes out. It’s just loud enough for the customer to hear and he opens the door with no further hesitation. Shouto averts his eyes to ensure he doesn’t catch any glimpses of the man as light from the living room illuminates him ever so slightly. In turn, the bed is far enough away and angled to ensure the light never reaches Shouto’s frame, no matter how wide the door opens. He watches the ground, the light dissipating and taking the stranger’s shadow with it as the door closes with a soft click.
“Hello.” Shouto keeps his greeting short and neutral. Most customers start by telling him the scenario they want to play out in the dark before even making it to the bed.
“Really is dark as fuck in here.” Shouto hears the stranger grumble as bare feet softly slap across the wooden floor and make their way to him.
“You can follow my voice to find the bed. I’m right here waiting.” Shouto offers, putting on the slightest seduction, just in the case the customer is nervous about the pitch black of the room. Of course, he can’t see the way Shouto’s eyes flutter and his legs spread to invite him over; it’s just a part of the performance that makes it easier to execute.
That seems to be enough, as the stranger feels his way to the bed and plops down next to him. He can make out the faint smells of caramel and cinnamon filling his nostrils. It’s not abrasive like a cologne—maybe residuals from baking? This level of inquiry would be nearly breaking his contract if he were to outwardly ask the stranger his profession, but thoughts are perfectly fine.
“Look, I’ve never done shit like this before, so I’ll let you take the lead ‘til I get more comfortable, ‘kay?” Now that they’re right next to each other, Shouto can hear just how deep and gruff the stranger’s voice is. It’s a stark contrast to the earnest request he just made.
“Can you start by telling me your name, handsome?” Shouto takes the lead easily, having pleasured his fair share of virgins and people new to the sex work scene. Feeling around softly, he finds the stranger’s bicep and gives it a squeeze. It’s meant to be encouragement, but Shouto can’t help but marvel at how thick and strong his muscles feel. He doesn’t feel overly strong, but his muscles are definitely more defined than Shouto’s own. His hand trails to softly fondle his customer’s chest, squeezing an impressively strong pec. God, this man must be built immaculately.
Shouto feels the shudder that escapes from his well-muscled customer. “You can call me whatever you like, Princess. You don’t care too much about names anyway, right?” He grabs Shouto’s wrist to extract the fingers kneading his pec, using the grip to pull their chests flush against one another. “Do whatever you want to me, and I’ll tell you when it’s my turn.”
It was Shouto’s turn to shudder. He can almost feel the smirk the stranger is sporting. He’s had a few submissive customers, but none that didn’t demand a specific kink or dom scenario from him. The idea of doing what he wants when he’s at work is novel, and a bit intoxicating now that he’s allowed to taste it. Without further hesitation, he pushes his customer to shuffle and lean against the wall behind him before climbing on top in a classic straddle. Shouto reaches an experimental hand out—first running it upwards from the bottom of his many and toned abs back to caress his chest. Soft kneading earns him soft whines.
“Chest’s sensitive.” His customer grumbles after another particularly pathetic whimper. Shouto can’t tell if he’s shy or angry about it, but the gruffness of his voice continues to stir Shouto’s loins. As he continues to knead with one hand, the other rolls a perky nipple between his fingers. The noise it elicits is so good that Shouto thinks he could get addicted to it. He’s not one to take such a fascination with his customers, but Shouto starts to understand why having a higher level of control than usual arouses so many men.
“I like how sensitive you are.” Shouto whispers before leaning down to assault the hard nipple with his tongue. Licking small circles directly on the nub while he continues to knead with his other hand earns the exact reaction he was looking for. The man squirms underneath him, hips bucking slightly as he chases pleasure. A soft string of curses leave his mouth and Shouto isn’t sure he’s ever heard this much profanity before either of them have even stuck it in yet. Sensitive indeed.
Ceasing his torture once he’s satisfied, Shouto trails wet, slow kisses up his chest and over his collarbone before settling at the side of his neck. He gives an experimental nuzzle. “How sensitive is your neck, I wonder?”
Another shudder and buck of his hips. “Is this all you wanna do to me, fucker? Tease me ‘til I’m practically exploding?” There’s little bite to his words, despite the insulting name. It feels more like a challenge to Shouto, if the hard cock underneath him is anything to go by.
Before relishing in the sweet skin at his throat, Shouto decides to rise to his customer’s challenge. That seems to be what he wants, anyway. He roughly fists the man’s hair, forcing what would be eye contact if not for the darkness surrounding them. Leaning until their noses touch, Shouto almost kisses him. He refrains, as it’s not a boundary the customer has communicated to him, and it can be crossing a line for those newer to the scene. He won’t kiss him unless he asks.
“I like to build anticipation.” Another tug of his hair. “I saw you paid for two hours, so I can take my time during my turn. If you don’t like it, use your words.” Shouto’s taken the dominant role at work, but without prior instruction, he’s defaulted to habits that he likes to do in his bedroom. He likes to tease, but hates to be rushed—exploring nearly every sensitive inch of his partners’ bodies and watching them squirm as they beg for more just sparks every carnal sense in him.
His customer answers with a single grunt. Satisfied, Shouto returns to the expanse of his neck, opting to suck and nip at the flesh. Never biting hard enough to leave a mark—at least to his knowledge, since no one’s complained before—Shouto can nearly taste the lingering sugar and sweetness on his skin. He has to be some sort of baker or confectioner with skin this sweet. He’ll never ask, though.
While continuing the assault on his neck, Shouto trails a hand down the customer’s body, finally settling on his cock. He could feel that it was above average while straddling him, but wrapping a single hand around the shaft lets Shouto know that he’s big . Like, really big . It’s times like these that Shouto is thankful for a pitch black profession, lest his customer see the way his eyes widen and his mouth falls open. He does, however, hear the way Shouto’s breath hitches and has the audacity to chuckle.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” The cocky drawl is still so apparent around his whines and whimpers.
“You sound proud. Does that mean you know how to use it?” Shouto teases. He truly is not sure why he feels the need to banter like this. The customer hasn’t verbally communicated that he wants it, and it’s something else he usually saves for his bedroom. He has a type—strong, endearing assholes with a soft streak, but just enough bite to keep him riled up in the bedroom. From what he can tell of his new customer, he seems to have the strong part down. He can call Shouto a fucker while nearly leaking from his touch, so that’s definitely a good amount of bite. Maybe if he’s a baker, that means he’s also endearing in some way.
Shouto quickly shakes the thoughts from his mind, once again thanking the darkness for hiding his expression. The point of this whole affair is for him to play a role, fulfill a fantasy in the dark. His customers don’t know him, his name, or what he likes, and that’s supposed to be the whole deal. With no specific fantasy to fulfill and a man that’s dangerously close to his type, Shouto may need to tread a bit more carefully when it comes to doing what he usually does. He’s never had problems getting attached to customers, but caution is never a bad thing.
Thankfully, the customer takes Shouto’s teasing in stride. In the blink of an eye, he found Shouto’s hips and clumsily flipped their positions. Shouto can feel the arms caging him in against the wall, the slight heat emanating from the other body, and the nose now lightly brushing his own.
“My turn, Princess.” His warm breath on Shouto’s lips almost makes him lean forward to capture the stranger’s in a passionate embrace. Almost, but he hasn’t asked yet. The customer doesn't straddle him for long, slightly lifting his hips and grabbing Shouto’s shoulders, lightly pushing him down in a silent request to slide down further onto the bed. Shouto complies, wiggling lower and lower and oh fuck yes he’s going to fuck Shouto’s mouth.
He knows once he’s face to face with the customer’s thick, hard, throbbing cock because it grazes his lips. Shouto can’t help the desperately slutty moan that escapes him. His exact type is more like strong, endearing assholes that like to banter and also have more cock than he knows what to do with.
“Bet your mouth is gonna feel so fucking good.” It’s all the man gets a chance to say before Shouto grips his ass and swallows him damn near whole. The surprised yelp that leaves the stranger would make Shouto giggle if he wasn’t already focused on sucking cock like his life depended on it. The initial shock wears off quickly as the customer grabs Shouto’s hair and thrusts shallowly.
“Fuck, just like that, Princess,” it’s almost like a growl. “So fucking good with that tight mouth. ” The tip of his cock slams into Shouto’s throat with every thrust and Shouto thanks every god he knows for his lack of a gag reflex. If he had one, he’d never know the joy of choking on a shaft that can’t fully fit into his mouth.
“Wish I could see that pretty, pretty mouth of yours wrapped around me. Bet you look like a real fucking princess down- ah ,” the moan in the back of Shouto’s throat vibrates against the stranger’s cock and cuts him short. For once in 2 years, Shouto also wishes he could see the man currently fucking his mouth. He can’t not be gorgeous with his strong muscles, deep voice, and astounding ability to know exactly how to get Shouto worked up.
With a wet pop, the customer extracts his cock from Shouto’s hungry mouth. “God, I could fuck your mouth all night.”
“So why don’t you?” Shouto offers, not bothering to hide his desperation for more. He feels the stranger shift to once again straddle him, and it’s Shouto’s turn to yelp in surprise when the customer rubs perfectly plump cheeks against his aching cock.
“Can’t fuck your mouth while I’m riding you, can I?” He says it so matter-of-factly, like Shouto should have known that the stranger with the huge dick would want to ride him in the dark. Now that the proposition has been made, though, Shouto will of course comply. Because it’s his job, of course.
He instructs the stranger on where to find the lube and condoms in the nightstand beside the bed. The brief lack of contact when the stranger leaves Shouto’s lap almost has him fisting his cock in anticipation; but the moment is indeed brief, and the customer is back in his lap, presumably with a condom and lube in hand.
“I’m gonna prep myself, Princess. Don’t know if I’d last with your fingers up my ass.” The point is emphasized by a low hiss that escapes the stranger’s lips and dies in the darkness. Shouto doesn't even have time to process the customer fingering himself in his lap because his thoughts are interrupted by the most erotic moans that have ever graced his ears.
“Mm, fuck, your cock is gonna feel so fucking good.” Another loud, broken moan. “Wanna know how many fingers I’m taking right now?” Shouto nods before remembering it’s dark and giving a single, strained whine instead. It’s just about all he can manage with his cock aching the way it is. Truthfully, it’s taking the strength of gods to keep Shouto from jerking himself to the filthy noises leaving his customer.
“You think two is enough? Or should I add another so I’m nice and ready for your cock?” The stranger breathes out. Shouto somehow manages to answer without skipping a beat this time.
”Another.”
“Figures.” Is the only response he gets. In the next second, Shouto can hear the moment a third finger breaches his hole—the way the stranger’s voice breaks may be permanently etched into his mind. They continue like this until the customer finally takes mercy on him and grabs Shouto’s dick to roll the condom on.
There’s a part of Shouto that once again wishes the darkness wasn’t the point. God, he’d really love to see the way his customer slides down, hole fully devouring his cock in one go. Three fingers was definitely a good idea.
Without much preamble, the stranger is bouncing on Shouto’s cock like he needs it to live. The slap of skin every time he slams to the hilt, the grip Shouto places on his waist—his slender waist—and the grunts that fill the air make for an erotic scene shrouded in dark secrecy.
“Oh my fucking god, fuck fuck fuck,” the curses almost sound like a spell with how rhythmically they leave the customer’s mouth. “Feels so good taking your cock.”
Shouto, by profession, has had plenty of sex and had many men ride him in this exact same way. However, there’s just something about this customer’s perfectly tight hole and string of moans laced with profanity that nearly send him spilling into the condom in record time.
To prevent this from being the first time he finishes before his customer, Shouto finds the wherewithal to grip the stranger’s cock and try to jerk in time with his bouncing. It seems to be effective, as the man above him moans even louder and briefly interrupts his rhythm to buck into Shouto’s hand.
“Just like that, keep going. I’m so close, fuck, Princess.” The words struggle to leave the stranger’s throat, captured by deep groans and pants. With just one more squeeze of his cock, a slam on Shouto’s cock, and a cry, Shouto feels cum scatter across his abdomen. Some of it makes it to his face due to his customer’s massive shaft, so he licks it dutifully from his bottom lip. It’s salty, in contrast to his sweet skin.
The customer’s spent cock doesn’t prevent him from continuing to shallowly bounce on Shouto’s. In fact, he actually seems eager to also get Shouto off. It’s definitely a new experience, and something about the man on top of him practically begging him to finish has Shouto releasing everything into the condom in what feels like mere seconds. He’d be embarrassed if that wasn’t the best fuck of his life.
Their post-sex nap is broken by a phone alarm heard from the other room. Shouto doesn’t know when or how they briefly fell asleep after throwing the condom away. He’ll lay down with customers that need a moment to catch their breath, but he never falls asleep with them. So much for separating where he sleeps, shits, and fucks for money.
The stranger grunts as he untangles their limbs; Shouto feels the weight leave the bed and hears the stranger’s knees pop as he stands. “Cat alarm.” He mumbles.
Maybe it’s the delirium from sex and a sleep cut short, but the question falls out before Shouto can catch it.
“You have a cat?”
“Yeah, and it’s past her feeding time. I wasn’t really expecting to fall asleep in the dark ass sex room.” Shouto can almost feel the eyebrow raised at him over such a trivial inquiry. Especially after what filth just transpired in the darkness they’re still currently in.
“I also have a cat. And an alarm. But I keep my phone on silent at work.” It has to be some form of word vomit or delirium, Shouto concludes. Why did he feel the need to chat with the stranger about their shared pet experience? And why is he so damn awkward about it?
“Okay, do you want a fucking medal or something, Princess? Sorry I wasn’t aware of the etiquette around here. I’ll be sure to remember next time.” The stranger’s annoyed tone is softened by a slight chuckle.
Next time?
“Next time?” Shouto verbalizes and immediately regrets it. Why is he so stuck on speaking to this man? He should already be out the door and on the way to feed his cat by now. So should Shouto, as a matter of fact.
“Yeah…unless there’s some dumb ass ‘no repeats’ policy I didn’t read about on that stupid site. By the way, the UI for mobile scheduling sucks shit, you should fire the guy who did it. ” Shouto starts to think that the stranger is only capable of various grumbles, groans, and complaints when he’s not preoccupied with sex or his cat. Despite that, Shout can’t help the way his chest swells just a bit, knowing that he wants to come back.
“No, you can come back. I’ll uh, ask about the UI, I guess. It’s not really my forte, though.” Why is he being so awkward? He was just balls deep in this man not even ten minutes ago.
Another chuckle in the dark. It’s endearing.
“I think I know your forte pretty well now, Princess. I’ll look forward to seeing what else you can do, though.” Another smirk Shouto can just feel is there.
Without any more words between them, Shouto listens to the soft slaps of the customer’s feet make their way across the room and to the only obstacle standing between him and the light. With a swift motion, the door opens to illuminate a section of the room. Acting selfishly for not the first time tonight, Shouto chances a glance towards the door—just enough to see that the stranger is standing in the doorway, also chancing a look over his shoulder towards Shouto’s direction. Of course, the customer can’t see anything except the darkness encasing the room, but the look is enough to give Shouto something to remember.
Spiky blonde hair. Crimson eyes.
After the one-sided exchange of looks, the stranger is out the door, leaving Shouto in pitch black silence.
He really hopes that customer comes back, and really hopes he’ll get fucked in the ass instead of the heart.