The Problem Client Read online

  But then Kaz also doesn’t seem to take himself very seriously. Case in point, Kaz has hinted several times that Damien’s welcome to join him and Jake for sessions with clients or otherwise. It’s no small temptation to be offered another opportunity with those two. Damien’s not sure how serious the offer is, but he’s declined it all the same. There’s still some small part of him that’s glad to be only seeing his one client now.

  It feels almost like dating, and nothing like dating. And Damien knows it has to end soon, but he just can’t help himself.

  “You should ask him his name,” Kaz says, and Damien makes a frustrated noise.

  “Don’t you think I already have?” he asks, rolling his eyes as he presses too-hard on the button for the elevator. Kaz gives him a steady look.

  “Well ask him again, man. I’m sure you can be persuasive,” he waggles his eyebrows at this, and Damien can’t help but laugh a little bit. Kaz has a tendency to be overly expressive with his facial gestures. Kaz elbows him, smiling. The elevator arrives at their floor with a beep, and the doors glide open.

  Perhaps Kaz is right. Damien doesn’t reply to the other man as they step into the elevator together. He’s plotting.

  He thinks he’ll push his luck tonight and try again after all. He has nothing to lose, right? Perhaps, once this last battle has been won – the question of the client’s name – he will be able to finally give the client up. Relinquish him to the clutches of one of the other hosts, and move on with his life. To what, he hasn’t decided yet, but that’s beside the point.

  Chapter Six

  Damien is lounging on the plush, king-sized bed in his favorite hosting room again. There’s this delicious sense of anticipation while he’s waiting for his client. Partially because of his plans for the night, and partially because he just really enjoys seeing the man.

  He watches the blank wall where the door usually shows up, and when it finally appears, it’s just there, fully formed in between the blink of his eyes. Magic. One moment there’s nothing, and the next there it is. The handle turns almost immediately, and Damien can feel his excitement rising.

  The client is here. His client is here.

  You would think this would get old, Damien thinks to himself, but it really doesn’t. Sometimes, when it’s been a particularly good night, which is nearly every night with this client, Damien thinks that maybe he’d like to keep doing this forever. He shakes his head, laughing a bit at himself as the door opens. Time to put his game face on, so to speak. In the end, this is just a job. He’s getting paid for a service. And it is a performance.

  Time to perform.

  The client looks less intense than he did last week. He pauses when he enters the room, and this time he’s actually wearing dress slacks, grey-toned and probably tailored. He still has the sleeves on his button-up pushed up again, though, and Damien finds it oddly endearing. He chides himself for being hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.

  Not for the first time, Damien wonders what this client does outside of their time together. In general, in this sort of business, the clients have to either be wealthy or have something worthwhile to trade. This client seems competent, professional, like the sort of guy who probably has a lot of people working underneath him.

  Damien definitely likes to be underneath him.

  “You,” the client breathes, eyes landing on Damien like he’s a particularly nice cut of steak, and it’s just what Damien had intended. It’s the reaction he likes to go for. Like he’s a particularly well-wrapped present waiting for the client. Or perhaps occasionally unwrapped, as it were.

  Damien smiles brightly, relaxing a bit further on the bed. “It’s been such a long day,” he says, and he pats a spot next to himself on the bed. “Won’t you come join me?”

  They’ve seen each other for so long now that they always get right into the game immediately. There’s no discussion of what the client wants to have happen that night or what the client’s preferences are like there can be with others.

  Damien knows this client, or at least knows him in this sense. He can read the mood of the room instantly, as soon as the client walks in. And he knows how to give the client exactly what he wants.

  But tonight, Damien wants a little something in return.

  And Damien likes a challenge.

  The client nods, kicking off his shoes, and starting to unbutton a few more buttons of his shirt, starting at the top. Damien remembers how aggressive the client was last week and enjoys the change in him today. Still completely focused on Damien but much calmer. Damien feels like a lover, waiting in bed for his husband who returned from a long day at work, and the image gives him a shiver of pleasure.

  The shirt’s tossed to the side carelessly as usual, and the client removes his undershirt as well, revealing his gorgeous broad chest, more muscular than Damien would expect for a businessman, that’s for sure. The client starts to unbuckle his pants, but Damien holds up a hand and shakes his head.

  “What are you playing at tonight, brat?” The client asks, finally, the first words he’s spoken tonight, but they are still playful. Damien gets up on his knees on the bed, grinning sunnily at the other man.

  “Oh, nothing,” he teases, and he pats the bed again. “Come sit here.”

  The client gives him a skeptical look, but does as he’s told, sitting on the edge of the bed and grumbling only a little bit. He can be compliant when he’s in a good mood. He looks back over his shoulder at Damien.

  “You going to do something?” he asks, and Damien laughs.

  “Of course I am,” he purrs. He begins by running his fingers across the man’s scalp. The client keeps his dark hair trimmed really close to his skull, and Damien loves the feel of it. Damien lets his fingers trail down the back of the man’s neck, pressing into tense spots as he goes, until he reaches the man’s shoulders. He presses his lower body against the man as he rubs his shoulders. Letting the man feel how hard he is for him already. It’s surely obvious through the silk shorts he’s wearing. The man groans in pleasure.

  “Ah, this,” he says, and he sighs on the word. “This is good.” The man tilts his head from side-to-side, cracking his neck.

  “You’re going to put me to sleep like that, brat,” he says after a while.

  Damien chuckles lowly and bends down to whisper in the man’s ear. “Well we wouldn’t want that.”

  The man tries to shake his hands off then, tries take control back over the situation. He stands up, turning around to finish unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants. Damien can see how hard he is already, his thick cock straining at the fabric of the dress pants, and Damien nearly groans at seeing it.

  “I guess you’ll have to find some other way to keep me awake,” the man says, grinning at him, and Damien likes this playful side of him. He feels the corner of his mouth tilt up in reply.

  His client is so handsome, he thinks. He reaches up to touch the man’s face, and the man grabs his wrist. He tugs at Damien so he’s off balance and falls forward. The man catches him, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him in for a searing kiss.

  Damien bites at the man’s lips, earning him a laugh.

  “You’re really in a mood tonight, aren’t you?” the man asks, and Damien smiles against the man’s mouth. He is in a good mood. He has a plan. He can’t ask just yet, but he’s going to do it. He needs to try again, to see if he can find out the man’s name, just like Kaz suggested.

  Damien pulls back. “I’m sure you could make my day even better,” he says, and he loves these sort of cheesy lines. The sort of thing that would usually make him roll his eyes, but they make his client’s eyes flash with interest.

  “Yeah, you like what you see?” the client asks, and Damien nods in return. He really does. The client pulls him close again, breathing in deeply at Damien’s neck, and Damien laughs. This particular client’s always doing stuff like this, but Damien doesn’t mind. He kind of likes it, if he’s honest. There’s something weird and f
eral about him, something that borders on… something else that Damien really likes. Damien’s never been able to pinpoint it, but it doesn’t really matter.

  The client’s slacks are undone but still hanging on his hips. Damien unzips then all the way and pushes them down the client’s thick, muscular thighs. When they fall, Damien runs his fingers along the inside of the elastic on the man’s boxer briefs.

  “Let me,” Damien says, and he bends down to press wet kisses onto the man’s abs.

  “Sure, go ahead,” the man says, and Damien grins against his skin.

  This is where Damien plans on having some fun. Because Kaz is right. Damien is going to ask for the man’s name again, but this time he’s not above using some dirty tricks.

  He carefully peels the man’s boxer briefs off of him, admiring the thick cock that springs forth. He nuzzles along the edge of the man’s thighs, still smiling, trying to control his excitement. The man’s fingers tangle in his hair already.

  Damien turns his head to the side to press kisses along the thick shaft of the man’s cock, just teasing for now. He licks up the length of it, running his hands along the man’s thighs as he does. The client’s hands in his hair are still gentle, so Damien sits up a bit more to lick at the head of his cock, tongue pressing against the smooth skin, lips hovering just above it. He finally takes the whole thing into his mouth, wrapping his hand around the base and stroking. The man groans loudly now as Damien takes as much as he can, feeling it hit the back of his throat.

  He starts a slow, easy rhythm of sucking, licking, pulling off and taking it back in again, and the man’s breathing is heavy now. He starts tugging at Damien’s hair.

  “Too good at that,” the man says, and his grip tightens in Damien’s hair, trying to pull him back. Damien knows it means he’s supposed to stop, but he goes a bit further, taking the client’s cock deep into his mouth again. The man grunts in frustration, and Damien finally relents, letting the man’s cock slip from his lips regretfully. The man’s grip in his hair gentles, and he strokes through it like Damien’s a particularly pleasing cat.

  Damien pushes himself up onto his knees again, and the client’s hands trail down his back, kneading his ass in a way that already makes Damien want it, but he has another goal in sight tonight. Eyes on the prize and all.

  He adjusts his grip on the man’s cock, wrapping his fingers around the thick length and stroking up firmly. The man’s eyes are closed but they open with surprise when Damien quickens the pace.

  Damien leans in to whisper in the client’s ear. “Tell me your name.”

  He can feel the surprise run down the client’s body, and Damien smiles viciously against the man’s neck. He increases the speed of the strokes, firmer, faster. The man groans again, pushing him away with firm hands on Damien’s hips, but Damien uses his other hand to wrap around the man’s shoulders.

  “Tell me your name, or I’ll make you come right now, and then we’ll both be unsatisfied,” he says in a firmer tone, and the man throws his head back in half of a laugh.

  “You’re terrible,” he gasps, and he grabs Damien’s wrist then, intent on moving it, overpowering Damien in the way that Damien knows he can.

  Damien bends down again with his mouth though, before the man can make much progress. He runs his tongue along the head of the man’s cock, licking at the slit and lapping up all of the precum at the tip. It’s so wet already from all of the attention. Damien’s hand is still moving rapidly, and the man’s grip on his wrist is too light. Damien’s other hand trails down further to stroke the man’s balls.

  “Damien,” the man says, frantic, and Damien can feel how close he is. His heavy ball sacs are already starting to contract. “Don’t.” He’s grabbing at Damien’s wrist again, pulling his hand away, but Damien takes his whole cock into his mouth then, swallowing him down hungrily. The man’s hands are scrabbling in his hair, trying to pull him off.

  “Fuck,” he says, his hips thrusting up, cock hitting the back of Damien’s throat abruptly, nearly making him gag.

  Damien pulls back slightly, and then goes down again, his tongue pressed flat against the underside of the man’s shaft.

  The client growls, pulling at Damien’s hair harder now, enough to make Damien’s eyes water, but he doesn’t mind. “Fine,” the client says. “The name’s Ty.” He can barely gasp out the words, and Damien pulls back fully to look up at him. Ty – his client – is glaring at him, but Damien’s all lit up now with the thrill of getting what he wanted.

  He wipes the back of his mouth in a sloppy way, trying to hide his grin. “Ty, what?” he says, pressing his luck, and his hand’s back on Ty’s cock, and Ty laughs darkly.

  “God, I hate you sometimes,” Ty says, grabbing Damien’s wrist and yanking with way too much force to pull it away, grip firm and painful, but Damien likes this sort of thing, getting a little roughed up with this client, so he doesn’t mind in the least.

  “Tyler Balducci, okay? You can fucking google it,” Ty says, tugging at Damien again, manhandling him in a way that Damien really likes. “Now get over here, and let me fuck you.”

  Damien nods, so pleased. He could just purr he’s so happy. He doesn’t know why his client’s been so secretive with his name. Tyler, he thinks.

  But instead of this feeling like a victory, some last hurrah before the end of their little game, there’s something about it that feels more like a beginning. And then Ty’s taking his revenge out on Damien, and Damien loves it. Ty really shouldn’t reward him like this. It’s just encouraging his behavior, he thinks, grinning. But he doesn’t think about much more after that.

  Ty regrets giving the brat his name the second he steps out of the doorway. It’s like a spell’s broken when he leaves that room. He’s having a hard enough time keeping the other man at arm’s length, but hearing Damien whisper his name tonight, saying Ty’s name when he comes. Ty’s fist slams against the wall of his condo. He kicks off his shoes as he makes his way into the main room. The condo is a penthouse at the top of a newer high rise, floor to ceiling windows in the living room, sparsely decorated because he really doesn’t spend much time here, so the furniture looks like it came straight out of some catalog.

  After Melanie found out that he was Damien’s newest client all those months ago, she must have reconfigured the door somehow, because now the damn thing shows up on an inner wall in the hallway that leads to the outer door of the condo. Like some sort of fucking joke.

  This doesn’t help with his sanity in the whole situation. Some nights, even when he knows the door isn’t going to show up, he finds himself sitting on the floor, staring at that spot on the wall where the door appears like some sort of fool. Wishing the thing would pop into existence. Knowing what Damien is probably doing in that room.

  He hopes Damien doesn’t take other clients in that room.

  He tosses his keys into a bowl on an end table and thinks with grim satisfaction that at the very least, Damien won’t be taking any other clients tonight.

  After all, this is still just a business arrangement between them. Something on paper that Ty is paying a lot of money for.

  The money doesn’t matter in the end. Ty would keep paying it if he needed to. In fact, he’d pay more.

  But the arrangement part of it. That’s what sticks in his throat. There’s something deep inside of him that wants to tear every other man that’s ever touched Damien to shreds. Because he knows there are others. That’s the whole fucking point.

  And even worse, maybe this is all still just a paycheck to Damien. Ty really doesn’t like the sound of that at all.

  Ty presses his forehead against the wall. He’s going to go crazy if he keeps doing this to himself. He thinks of Damien’s smile, of his body, of his laugh. His scent. Ty can still smell Damien on his own skin.

  He thinks of the way Damien looked at him before he left. Damien has a persona that he wears, and Ty knows this, can see through it sometimes. Just glimmers of the real man under
neath. Cunning, vicious, strong. Especially on nights like tonight when Damien’s really pleased about something. Giving the brat his name seemed like some sort of personal victory for Damien. Ty had known the other man was up to no good the moment he stepped into the room, but he wanted to see how it would play out. Wanted to see if he could see past the mask a little bit more.

  Ty can see through Damien’s persona sometimes, but mostly he just wants to see it shatter.

  Chapter Seven

  Damien is endlessly pleased that he finally got the name of his client. Tyler.

  He really needs to thank Kaz.

  He showers first, spending maybe a little too much time in the full-sized bathroom that’s connected to the hosting room. The shower’s big enough to hold two or three people, with multiple showerheads. His body’s sore, so he enjoys the hot water for longer than strictly necessary. He’s going to have marks tomorrow, but he’s already stopped taking other clients, so there’s no need to worry about that anymore. And of course, Ty would probably like to see them if they’re still visible by the next session, anyways.

  Because there is definitely going to be a next session. And probably one after that, if he’s honest with himself.

  He knocks on Kaz’s door immediately after he’s done showering, hair still wet, careless of the hour. He hears a groan of protest, but it’s not a flat-out “no”, so Damien opens the door anyways.

  Light from the hallway splashes into the room, which is laid out much like Damien’s own. All of the personal rooms are near copies of one another and more like small studio apartments than true bedrooms. When Damien’s eyes adjust, he sees that Kaz’s doesn’t have much in the way of decoration, other than dirty laundry that’s been tossed in various places around the floor. Classy.

  “What?” Kaz says, voice muffled, and Damien notices for the first time that there are two bodies under the comforter, two heads on the pillows – Jake’s bleached hair barely visible in the dim light with all of the blankets piled on him, and Kaz’s dark hair spread out across the pillow wildly.