[Fic] The Debt - 1/2

[coley_merrin]

Title: The Debt
Pairing: Kangin/Sungmin, minor Zhou Mi/Kyuhyun
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU, smut, fluff
Warnings: prostitution, sexual situations, power imbalance, abuse, issues of consent

Summary: When Sungmin returned home after high school, he expected to have a future - what he got was exploitation and a debt he couldn't repay.



***

Youngwoon was different.

“Do you want to come?”

“Do you want me to?” Sungmin asked, voice soft as Youngwoon slid into him. The movements were deliberate, slow, so Sungmin could feel the solid width of him. It was promise, almost, that in that way there was pleasure.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Sungmin’s hands tightened on the bed. It wasn’t all pain, this place. Some days he came, and came hard, and it was good. His body liked it. Most of the time, though, it was rote, a series of sounds and the opening of his body to facilitate someone else’s pleasure. Some people wanted him wanton so they could believe in their prowess. Most didn’t care if he got off at all.

He was their fantasy, and no one asked him if it was what he wanted.

“Please.”

Youngwoon’s hand was perfect, tight and slick. Tighter, faster, as Sungmin gasped out another plea, and came against the side of the bed.

Youngwoon helped him to his feet minutes later, nudging him into the bed. The thin blanket covered him, Youngwoon’s body against his, and he fell into a well-earned stupor.

A discreet speaker at the edge of the room let out a chime, some time after that.

“Ten minutes until the time is up,” Sungmin said.

And he did what Sungmin so rarely expected, flicking at the lights and curling his arm over Sungmin’s side.

“I’ll take the whole night.”

***

The dance floor of the nightclub was always packed. Bodies swarming, some dancing for the fun of it, some dancing to pick someone up. Above them men danced to the music, getting cheers and jeers, tossed coinage and bills, slowly baring more of themselves to get the crowd involved and paying. Sungmin had tried it. He’d done well. But the money wasn’t enough. Since he’d figured that out, he’d almost never made it to the higher stages where thighs gleamed, bodies undulating. He was on the bar floor, in the seated area where men came to watch, to steal a touch and see who was there working that night, who they wanted enough to slip bills across the counter and take into a room for a little release. And people paid a whole lot more.

He was on display. Sometimes with his midriff bare, dressed as a woman going clubbing. Men liked the wig, liked the way the stuffing filled out the cropped top, and how his hips filled the skirt. He got the most customers those nights. For the bondage room, they paid more, and Sungmin had only been there twice. The rest of the rooms were mostly filled by a bed, some with chairs as well, copious condoms and packets of lube. No condom, no pleasure. His time was bought in fifteen minute increments, a discount for an hour, a flat rate for the whole night. Fifteen minute customers were mostly wanting to get blown, but some tried to fit everything in. Granted, it didn’t take some of them all that long to get off. But a four hour shift, always with the possibility of stretching the night long, sometimes could have too many fifteen minute encounters. Some nights, he didn’t see the floor at all, just cleaning himself and the room between clients, hoping to not leave to sleep with more bruises than he’d arrived with.

Youngwoon was like a storm, sitting at the bar, watching him. Of course, Sungmin didn’t know who he was then, only that he turned away with a feeling a bit like fear. What he could see was solid, the kind of rough hands and rough lips that left more marks, the kind that took more pleasure from sounds of pain.

But Youngwoon defied his expectations. The glass of beer in his hand was steady as he leaned up against the bed’s headboard. He’d only paid for fifteen minutes, and Sungmin did not want that beer over the mattress. It’d be on him to clean it, and the room would stink of it. But before he could even get close, he was stopped. For more than a minute, he was stared at, his skin crawling as he tried not to visibly look uncomfortable. Some men got off looking. He really didn’t know how they worked.

But there was only so much time to be had.

So he tried, again, running his hands down his hips and deliberately stepping closer.

“What's your name?”

Sungmin paused, surprised. “Sungmin.”

“Sungmin,” Youngwoon repeated, and Sungmin’s nails dug into his palms. “My name is Youngwoon.”

Good. No shaking hands required. They were burning time and he didn’t want to get blamed for it.

“You catch a lot of eyes.”

Yeah, he‘d heard that before.

“I caught yours?” Sungmin asked, and finally made it to his knees, insinuating himself between Youngwoon’s thighs little by little.

“Yeah. Yeah. You did.”

Sungmin took the drink and put it on the side table. No more interruptions. He had Youngwoon’s pants opened in thirty seconds, and he was half hard, and that made Sungmin’s job easier, getting the condom on. He wasn’t there to provide romance in fifteen minutes, just a thorough orgasm.

He took Youngwoon as deep as he could. His sounds were half for Youngwoon’s benefit, half for his own motivation. He liked dick in his mouth, sometimes even started to get hard because of it if the guy was talking just right, if the cock was right. It was just too bad he didn’t get to choose who he got on his knees for. It seemed like the rough guys, the one who threw off his wigs and pulled him into their crotches until he gagged and left marks on his shoulders were the ones who kept coming back. Having a mouth and ass that men wanted to fuck hadn’t been one of his life goals.

There was nothing extraordinary about the way Youngwoon came, still with five minutes of time left. What was odd was when he cupped Sungmin’s neck and pulled him closer, half cuddling him up against his abdomen as Youngwoon breathed.

The two minute warning chime sounded, and Youngwoon let Sungmin go. He wiped Youngwoon down with a warmed disposable wipe, tossing away the condom and letting him to do up his own pants.

“Thank you,” Youngwoon said, and slipped a tip into his hand. And he took his drink, and left.

Sungmin took a minute to collect himself, tucking the money in a small hidden container in the room. When he was done for the night, he’d have to pay rent for the room he was using out of his tips. Anything left, he got to keep. None of the fee was his.

He’d been there too long to protest.

***

Sungmin went out nearly every hour, serving someone’s drink, letting himself be seen. And the rest of the time he spent on his back or on his knees. He disliked the kissing most, not because of an inherent distaste for it, but because it was too much, too intimate for what they were doing. But alcohol fumes in his mouth and sweaty hands palming his body did little to enhance his experience.

Sometimes he felt like a one-man circus. He sucked, he fucked, he stripped, he danced, he massaged, he dressed up, he role-played. He’d pretended to be a woman, a hooker, a doctor, someone’s son, boyfriend, best friend. Whatever got them off, got them gone. And the harder they came, sometimes the better they tipped.

Youngwoon was back for the fourth time. Maybe the fifth. A few more blow jobs, Youngwoon had fucked him the last time. It had been unremarkable. With a full hour on his tab, with any luck one of his last clients of the night, Sungmin expected more of the same. Sungmin was naked in bed with him, running his fingertips across Youngwoon’s chest and hoping Youngwoon would decide what it was he wanted besides holding Sungmin against him. It wasn’t a very interesting way to pass the time, though given the time, he’d have probably fallen asleep.

“Have you come tonight?” Youngwoon asked against the top of his head.

Sungmin shook his head. Two, maybe three nights a week average someone would want that at least once. His manager got to know the customers, tried not to schedule them back to back since his body was only capable of so much. But he couldn’t say he’d ever had the problem of coming too many times with too many customers. There’d been one guy who’d had him for hours, who had been interested in seeing how fast he could get Sungmin hard again, but that wasn’t exactly a memory he relished.

“How many men were in here?”

He should have lied. “Seven.”

Seven in three hours. Not a record, and the tips hadn’t been great even so.

“And not one of them wanted to see you hard?”

“For most people I’m here to facilitate their pleasure. Most times I never even get undressed. Just like with you last time. They sit, I kneel, they come, they leave. Or I bend over. The three or four minutes most of them spend hacking away wouldn’t get anyone off.”

Sungmin closed his eyes as Youngwoon laughed. He was going to hate himself in the morning for opening his mouth. Youngwoon wasn’t conventional but most guys didn’t get off on knowing seven other guys had gotten off with him already, and certainly wouldn’t relish Sungmin’s observations of the clientele.

“And yet, you’re gorgeous,” Youngwoon said, his hand stroking down Sungmin’s side. “You have a body that doesn’t quit. Every time you go out and dance I get hard watching your ass, the way you move. I bet you look amazing when you come.”

His dick heated up as Youngwoon talked, and he licked his lips. He’d heard every single variation of his looks, the full spectrum of masculine and feminine compliments. Something in the low cadence of Youngwoon’s voice got to him, some kind of dark promise that was gilded in lust.

“I’ve never watched myself,” Sungmin admitted, thumb catching Youngwoon’s nipple. Most men he wouldn’t have encouraged. Youngwoon hadn’t tried choking him with his cock, hadn’t hurt him during their fuck, seemed overly interested in talking and holding.

“I think I’d like to watch you.”

Youngwoon knew how to handle a cock. There were no gentle tickles or amateurish gropes like they were teenagers in the back of a parent’s car. The hollow between Youngwoon’s thumb and forefinger provided the perfect tug and friction as he grew, harder, filling with blood as Youngwoon hummed against his neck, licking, sucking against his skin.

“Even your cock is gorgeous,” Youngwoon complimented, his lips brushing Sungmin’s ear. Teeth worried his earlobe for a moment, and Sungmin nearly whimpered as Youngwoon moved, fearing the loss of contact. If Youngwoon left him hanging he would— He would deal with it. And he would teach himself against expectations. Again.

“Condom?” Youngwoon asked.

Sungmin reached and brought out two. If Youngwoon wanted Sungmin to come while being fucked, then Sungmin was all for it. And then they’d get a nice nap in, before Youngwoon left. It’d probably be his best experience of the week.

But Youngwoon rolled the condom onto Sungmin. Sungmin’s thighs strained under Youngwoon’s stroking hands.

Youngwoon looked up at him, waiting until Sungmin met his eyes. “If you rather I didn’t do this, I can just jerk you off.”

“Do I look stupid?” Sungmin retorted, making Youngwoon grin. And there went his mouth again. “I bet you do a good job.”

“You’re the first guy in about five years,” Youngwoon said. “Let’s see if I remember anything.”

Sungmin moaned, no artifice to the sound whatsoever, when Youngwoon’s lips slid around him. He watched with open mouth as a handsome man bobbed his head, his intent to get Sungmin off with his mouth. All Sungmin had to do was enjoy it, and try not to choke Youngwoon. Though Youngwoon took care of that, holding down Sungmin’s hips and getting a growl from him. Sometimes not being aroused when he blew guys made it easier, made him more able to focus. Not being aroused when he was fucked meant he could focus on making noises, enhancing the guy’s arousal so he came as fast as possible. His own tongue mimicked Youngwoon’s, half wishing he could suck Youngwoon at the same time, half glad he had to do nothing but focus on how good Youngwoon’s mouth felt. A fingertip brushed his ass and he hummed, rolling his hips under Youngwoon’s arm.

And he gasped, “Please,” when Youngwoon’s head lifted, his lips wet.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you hanging. You want my fingers in you?”

Sungmin all but scrabbled for a packet of lube, his hand unsteady as he handed it, open, to Youngwoon. Some guys liked fingering him before they fucked him, and most of them had the finesse of a harpoon. Most didn’t, though, just slicking the condom and going for it, which suited Sungmin just fine. By the time his shift started, at least one of the managers had been by to sample the wares anyway. He didn’t dare turn them away or complain that they never tipped him, since if he did, they’d funnel him the oldest clients, the meanest ones, the ones he’d requested never to service again. Or, as they had one time, let five guys have him at the end of his shift for almost two hours. The only tip he’d gotten then was whatever change they’d had in their pockets. Another time, the tips he’d been collecting for almost five months had disappeared, all because he’d smacked away the hand of a manager’s friend. They hadn’t admitted it, but he’d known at their smirks and admonitions for him to be more careful.

Youngwoon’s fingers slid in him, and he thought no more on it, breath catching in his throat as his cock throbbed in Youngwoon’s mouth, the friction of Youngwoon’s fingers inside of him causing the heat to build. The press of Youngwoon’s arm, the pull of his mouth, the slide of his fingers—

His back arched, and the cry from his throat was ripped from him, coming as Youngwoon hummed around him. He squirmed against the pleasure, panting and gripping the sheets, and Youngwoon let him go. They fumbled together with the condom, and Sungmin’s fingers barely conformed to his bidding as he tossed it into the trash.

Youngwoon was half hard, and Sungmin’s every instinct made him reach. But he only managed to touch, before Youngwoon soothed his arm away, tugging him back against Youngwoon’s chest so that they were fit together. His heart still beat hard as Youngwoon kissed his neck, stroking his stomach and slowly relaxing behind him. He was being held. It felt both foreign and oddly right.

“Tonight was for you,” Youngwoon murmured, and held him as he drifted. The buzzer that their time was nearly up had them both jerking, and Youngwoon stood, leaning over Sungmin and tipping up his face for a kiss. Leisurely, a tongue stroking his, making him reach for Youngwoon’s hand at his face, holding it as he lost himself to Youngwoon’s mouth.

Youngwoon smiled at him when the buzzer sounded the minute warning, impersonal and loud. Youngwoon dressed, kissing him again and leaving money on the counter before slipping out.

Sungmin walked naked, thumbing through the money, a bit more generous than his typical hour calls. He tried not to read into the fact that Youngwoon had given him a kiss, but left the money to the building as it were. A touch to the screen by the door told him who his next customer was, what he wanted.

So all he had to do was straighten up, freshen the air, and pull on a silk robe that had a tendency to fall off his shoulders. And then, on his knees, he waited.

***

Friendships were frowned upon though generally ignored as long as they did not interfere with the work. Sungmin had kept to himself for almost a year, before a new man had arrived. Sungmin spoke a little Mandarin, and Zhou Mi spoke a little Korean, and they had hit it off from there. He thought they saw a little of themselves in each other. Zhou Mi had come from China hoping for opportunity, and Sungmin had returned from China expecting the same. Instead, they serviced men and tried to survive. Zhou Mi had been slender when he’d arrived, gotten skinnier with stress, but had really started to recover. When Sungmin saw him without his shirt, he didn’t wince in concern any longer. There was a pinkish-white oblong on Zhou Mi’s shoulder, proof of a client biting him so hard he broke skin. That had required antibiotics, and Sungmin had paid his board while Zhou Mi recovered. That night, too, Zhou Mi was smoothing cream on fresh bruises on his forearms.

“You’d think they’d figure out that being rough isn’t going to endear them to us,” Sungmin joked.

“Something to leave behind besides a condom,” Zhou Mi said, smiling a bit.

They wore the client’s marks. Zhou Mi had learned more Korean out of self-defense, so clients would not hurt him for misunderstanding what they wanted. Sungmin had taught him using porn, a sure bet, and plentiful. And also books they’d asked for. Books weren’t something they were denied, as long as they paid for them.

“Besides Mr. Grabby, anything new tonight?”

Zhou Mi shook his head. “Just the usual mix. Got my hair pulled a couple of times. Considering he was about to come, he was pulling my hair the wrong way. What about you?”

Sungmin laughed and winced at the same time. And he weighed how much to say. “I have this repeat. He’s been in four or five times. A few fifteen minute visits, a couple hour-long ones. He had an hour tonight, but all he did was suck me off. Said tonight was for me.”

And Zhou Mi reacted pretty much as Sungmin expected, his eyebrows raising. “Wow. You think he’s going to get creepy?”

“I don’t know. You look at this guy, he looks like he’d go around beating people up. Though that changed when he smiles. He gives good head, though.”

“You think you’re going to get creepy?” Zhou Mi asked, his chin planted in one palm.

Sungmin wished he had something at hand to throw. Sure, they all had repeat customers. Most of them were more of a resignation, but sometimes it was a relief when someone came in who was known, especially the ones who didn’t want to bruise or smack them around. The bad ones made them all seem worse. And the anger was sometimes worse for others, like when Zhou Mi had been bitten, or when someone had hit him hard enough to split his lip, or the bruises that one time covered part of his ribs.

He’d crawled into Zhou Mi’s bed, exhausted, just needing to be near a human who didn’t expect anything from him, someone who was safe. They’d kissed, hugged, providing the support that Sungmin knew he would be empty without. But they had never had sex in private, though they had been chosen to serve clients together. A little playing around for the client’s benefit. It hadn’t been awkward, since that sort of touch had long since ceased to embarrass. Keeping each other safe, and the customer happy was their primary goal in that.

“What’s the first thing you’d do if you walked out of here tomorrow?”

“Find a Chinese restaurant,” Zhou Mi said immediately.

They laughed at that, and they dreamed.

***

It was never routine. Youngwoon would purchase him, sometimes even before he began to dress for the evening. It seemed Youngwoon liked that best, just a bare amount of makeup on Sungmin’s face, and sexy underwear. Youngwoon was one of the more gentlemanly ones, which was strange because when he looked at Sungmin sometimes, flat and hard, it didn’t seem like he wanted anyone’s permission to do anything. He began to relish the times he nearly broke Youngwoon’s control, getting him hot by sucking him and nudging him almost to orgasm - and then backing off and offering his ass. The grunts and panting breaths and slap of skin and wet slide of body into body. Those were all so familiar.

But it was different, the way Youngwoon supported him, and reached to make him hard.

And when Youngwoon kissed him, until falling asleep.

In so many other cases, he’d closed his eyes and pretended that he didn’t exist, that the client, or maybe even the world didn’t. But sometimes, with the light on low, he could still see the light dusting of marks on Youngwoon’s cheekbones. The way that Youngwoon’s hair came down in front of his ear, swept aside over his forehead. Though that had been less of Youngwoon’s doing, and more of Sungmin’s, reaching to touch. Hands in Youngwoon’s hair because Youngwoon liked it, gasping at the kisses pressed against his neck. Aroused by the motion of the taking, by the way Youngwoon looked at him. Perhaps part of that expression was appreciation for the composition of Sungmin’s face. But Youngwoon was watching for signs of Sungmin’s pleasure, adjusting his tempo, his touch.

Apparently tempering the pleasure on his face was not something Sungmin had mastered.

One night Youngwoon pulled him into the bed, stretched out beside him, with his nose pressed to Sungmin’s jaw. It was instinct, nothing more, that had him reaching, petting Youngwoon’s hair.

“Mmm,” Youngwoon hummed. “Tonight…Will you fuck me?”

Sungmin’s hand paused as he processed those words. Youngwoon hadn’t said ride him, because they’d tried that, Youngwoon laughing as Sungmin had tried getting his shirt off over his head while firmly in Youngwoon’s lap. He hadn’t been laughing long.

“How long has it been since you’ve done that?” Sungmin asked.

“A long time,” Youngwoon said, as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Sungmin’s mouth. “But don’t worry. You won’t hurt me.”

Everything Sungmin had learned, he poured into that moment. He kissed down Youngwoon’s chest and stomach, kissed him from his knee nearly to his groin and smiled to see Youngwoon growing hard, his hands flexing on the sheet. He pressed two slick fingers into Youngwoon’s ass, letting his thumb trace Youngwoon’s cock. It was as he suspected, Youngwoon rumbling his enjoyment.

“You do this to yourself?” Sungmin asked.

Youngwoon’s lips curled, an arm behind his head. “Doesn’t quite compare to yours.”

“Just wait, then,” Sungmin told him, and let Youngwoon see as he went to his knees, stroking himself hard and tearing the condom open. It wasn’t often he had to put one on himself, and fewer times still when someone wanted him do do anything with it. But he thought Youngwoon would want to feel it, and he was right, Youngwoon baring his throat as he sighed as Sungmin pressed into him.

Sungmin gripped his hips, and pulled, and they both moaned, Youngwoon’s chest expanding.

“You forgot to tell me it was going to feel this good,” Sungmin said. “Maybe it’s been longer than you thought.”

Youngwoon’s grin was sharp, as though Sungmin feeling good had been his goal. It was something Sungmin could believe. He leaned over Youngwoon’s body, not to be closer, but so he could move more freely. And he got what he’d wanted, Youngwoon moaning, his throat baring as he swallowed. Oh, but he was careful, not to go too fast, not to risk it being over too quick. And it could have been, the way Youngwoon stared at him, lust on every exhale, how tight Youngwoon was when Sungmin let his hips free for several snapping thrusts. He always pulled himself back, and Youngwoon’s eyes were so feral, a sheen of sweat on his chest. He smiled, just barely keeping himself in Youngwoon before pushing in again, slow, steady. And it was much as his fingers were on Youngwoon’s cock, a loose and tantalizing grip.

“Sungmin,” Youngwoon said, his voice nearly conversational.

“Youngwoon,” Sungmin said in reply, and it was on half a breath, and Youngwoon nearly snarled at him.

“Fuck, you’re so close aren’t you. Just fuck me already. Fuck me and make me come and let me watch you come because you’re fucking me. Fuck. Sungmin.”

And he did just that, watching Youngwoon’s mouth move, feeling Youngwoon’s hand cover his around Youngwoon’s cock, keeping him stroking even as he struggled not to lose control. He wanted to see, after all those times of him coming first, he needed to—

Youngwoon moaned and pulsed in his hand and Sungmin watched his come fall on his skin, more of it, and more as Youngwoon helped him stroke.

“Sungmin,” Youngwoon said, his voice husky and deep, and Sungmin braced himself, and emptied into the condom.

Youngwoon was sweaty and too warm, but he didn’t let Sungmin go, not even to clean them up. He barely threw the condom away before Youngwoon was breathing against his cheek.

“You were holding out on me.”

Sungmin traced his finger around a droplet of Youngwoon’s come, and smiled.

His last thought before slumber was wondering if he would like Youngwoon’s taste.

***

When his last customer of the night was Youngwoon, Sungmin felt relief. He’d slapped around enough that night to want something straightforward and expected, the crushing grip as he’d been fucked hurting more than the way his temple had smacked into the bed frame. The man’s cock had been plenty wide without sawing about, and he was sore from that, and the next man who hadn’t cared and just needed someone to get off to.

Sungmin didn’t have time to cover the bruises, or even to contemplate them when he slid onto the bed beside Youngwoon. The light was low enough, like Youngwoon liked it, that he expected a gentle-enough fuck and maybe a cuddle, and was looking forward to that more than he ought to have. It wouldn’t be because Youngwoon was comforting him for his ordeals but it would be something.

“You’re hurt,” Youngwoon said, touching his hip were the bruises were dark pink, not yet purpling.

“They’re not bad. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

Youngwoon tried to match his fingers to the marks, and Sungmin gripped his hand before he could.

“You didn’t leave those there. You’ve never left a mark, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

“But it could’ve been me. Will they keep him from seeing you again?”

“For this?” Sungmin laughed. “He didn’t even break the skin. If he’d injured my face, maybe, especially if it wasn’t something I couldn’t easily cover. Bruises on my neck or body, those are common.”

The grip Youngwoon had on his arm was as light as the expression on his face was dark. “People injuring you isn’t okay. Do you stay here of your own free will?”

It was as though Youngwoon kicked him in the stomach. “I— I don’t— Yes. I mean. I have a debt. When I pay it, I’ll be free to go.”

“A debt.”

He nodded. “The cost of bringing me here, of outfitting me, training me. While I save to pay that, I pay rent on this room, for my food and necessities.”

“Did they bring you from outer space? How big a debt could you have incurred? Surely what you rake in from the fees should be making a dent.”

“The fees don’t come to me,” Sungmin blurted, gritting his teeth together for being too quick with his mouth again.

“What?” But Youngwoon didn’t let him go, gripping his shoulder a little harder, until Sungmin broke.

“We get to keep the tips,” Sungmin said. “We can use that money toward our debt.”

“After you pay a premium for the room, I imagine? How much do you have left over each night?”

“It depends. Sometimes nothing, somethings a couple hundred. If we don’t make enough, it rolls over to the next night. But we also have to buy condoms, and food, and— Youngwoon.”

“They are thieves keeping you here against your will. Do you even know how much you owe? Will you ever be able to pay it down? What if you tried to walk out of here?”

“The bouncers would stop us. There are no windows, and doors are barred.”

Youngwoon swore and stroked his face, and Sungmin could feel the tension in it. “They’re keeping you here as a slave.”

His face heated. “I got myself into this—“

“Did you?”

“My father wasn’t a good man. He lost everything in China and abandoned me when I was sixteen, and his friend took care of me until I finished high school. He’s the one who paid to fly me back home. He brought me here because he had to go back. They paid him for what my father and I owed him, and then they owned my debt. If I tried to skip out, then I wouldn’t be honoring the money he spent on me.”

“Who makes a child pay for being taken care of?” Youngwoon demanded. “He didn’t touch you?”

Sungmin shook his head. “No. Not until— He was my first client. They didn’t make him pay.”

Youngwoon cursed, and Sungmin’s lip curled in revulsion at having to relive his arrival. He’d had dreams of college, and that hadn’t happened. All he’d gotten was sweaty hands on his body and a too-rough mouth.

“How much do you owe?”

“I don’t know.”

“How much have you paid them?”

“I don’t know!” Sungmin exclaimed. “Four thousand? Five? It’s not free. They charge interest, too. I might only be keeping it from growing. What more can I do? I can’t sob at people and ask them to tip me more. I can’t leave. I can’t—”

He knew how trapped he was. Knew, when he whispered his age, and Youngwoon marveled that he was only a year older.

“And you’ve been here since you graduated high school,” Youngwoon said.

Years, multiplied by nights, by hours, and the number of clients was staggering. He didn’t like to think about what would happen when he got too old, if something happened to him and men no longer wanted him. He’d have to work in the dark, behind a wall, where tips were even sparser.

“I’ve never told anyone that before,” Sungmin said, and the words felt raw in his throat. And it tightened, as Youngwoon pulled him against his body, gripping him with one arm until Sungmin’s head rested against his.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sungmin told him, and believed it. Some of the clients weren’t good people, but most of them had no idea. To warn them away would be to invite even worse things upon himself. “Your time might be up soon, so if you want something…”

Youngwoon’s lips pressed hard against Sungmin’s cheek. “I paid for the night. You don’t have to think about that now.”

He was both sick and relieved at the same time. On one hand he wanted to break away, flee from the room to gather himself again, talk himself back to a place of complacency, where he ignored everything Youngwoon had brought up before it drove him to uncontrollable despair. On the other, he wound his arm behind Youngwoon’s back and held on, and wanted that never to end. He was still in pain, and that gentle hold comforted him enough to where he finally fell asleep.

The next morning when Youngwoon dressed, kissed him, and left, Sungmin found almost a thousand dollars on his table.

They’d done nothing but talk and sleep next to each other.

***

“I don’t need your pity,” Sungmin told him, a scowl on his face to let Youngwoon know just how displeased he was.

For some reason, Youngwoon grinned. “You’re cute when you’re angry. It’s not pity. Consider it retroactive compensation for the other nights I didn’t tip enough, since I had no idea that was all you were getting.”

It mollified him when Youngwoon held out his hand, tugging Sungmin, kissing him slow and steady. There was no anger left when their lips parted, maybe just a little frown that Youngwoon then kissed away.

“Tell me something, honestly,” Youngwoon said, his face very close, and his eyes serious.

“All right?” Sungmin said, and was wary of what Youngwoon would ask of him.

“Do you want me? Remember. Being honest.”

Oh. That was not such an easy thing to admit. But it was something he could be honest about. And something he had been already.

“When I told you I looked forward to your visits, I meant it,” Sungmin told him. “You…”

He put his hand on Youngwoon’s shoulder, searching for the right words.

“You’re not like them.”

“Because I don’t bruise you?” Youngwoon said rudely.

“Because you make me want. Because it feels good. Because you treat me like a human. Because we talk. Because you—“

He’d been about to say “care” as though that was a sure thing, and it shot heat through his face. Of all the things he couldn’t say, that was it. But there was one other thing he knew, when he gripped Youngwoon’s wrist.

“Because I don’t have to pretend with you.”

It got him what he wanted, Youngwoon kissing him, the press of his mouth almost as urgent as that of his body as Sungmin’s arms wrapped around his neck. He’d meant it. Moaning against Youngwoon’s mouth, he was starting to get hard, wanting, wondering what Youngwoon would want, what they would do.

He moaned into the pillow as Youngwoon took him on his knees, his hands everywhere on Sungmin’s body, stroking, nudging. He felt thick and perfect, fucking into him until Sungmin came on the sheets, gasping and pressing back and urging Youngwoon to come in him.

They were both on their backs, the condom discarded, and he rested a leg over Youngwoon’s, Youngwoon’s hand stroking his forearm.

“I was in prison,” Youngwoon said, staring at the ceiling. “Less than a year. My own stupidity. It destroyed my marriage, but probably half the reason I ended up locked up was because I wasn’t happy in it anyway.”

“You were married,” Sungmin said, not certain why he was startled by it. A lot of the men he got off were married. Yet, Youngwoon had said it had been five years since he’d blown a guy. Maybe he’d tried to train himself out of his inclinations.

“Yeah. I have a little girl, just turned three. My wife…ex-wife…is trying to fight me on custody. I get to see her a couple of times a week, and it’s not enough. I don’t want to make it hard on her because her parents can’t stand each other, but I spent too much time away from her already.”

“Oh,” Sungmin said, unsure what to say. A man fighting to be near his kid. Sungmin didn’t have much experience there.

“I get to work most days before six, and days I’m here, I come here right from there. It’s long hours but the money’s good. I figure, if I can get more time with my daughter, I can cut back. Now I’m just building a nest egg, for whatever.”

“And spending money on me.”

Youngwoon kissed his temple. “You’re worth it. It was meant to be just letting go of some tension. I was near to a couple of ulcers once. But I forgot how much it was nice just to hold someone, talk about something that isn’t the shitstorm my life is.”

“You could get both of those cheaper,” Sungmin pointed out, nearly amused. It wasn’t like he was trying to send Youngwoon off, but it bore saying. “And you’re talking about it now.”

“Yeah, but you told me about you. I figured it was only fair. And there’s only one of you.”

Sungmin stretched, drawing Youngwoon’s gaze, and he moved Youngwoon’s hand between his legs, lifting his hips to rub against it.

“I know something that will make us both forget,” Sungmin told him.

All he had to do was open his legs and wait for Youngwoon to press into him, soft moans against Youngwoon’s mouth as Youngwoon kissed him. The soft roll of Youngwoon’s hips, the urge of his tongue, and stroke of his hands, they were all different than most other men. Men who had made love to him in the past, they had almost all been caught in a fantasy of someone else, a fantasy Sungmin only facilitated. But Youngwoon kissed his face and said his name, and looked into his eyes as he filled Sungmin over and over.

Sungmin knew all about begging, bent over the bed and pleading with men to fuck him harder, anything that would get them off faster.

But when he opened his mouth and whimpered, “Youngwoon,” as Youngwoon stroked him hard and kissed his mouth, he learned how to beg for himself and no one else.

Youngwoon breathed into his neck after, rumbling breaths of the deepest sleep. He was being held, cradled, as though precious, the lingering dregs of his own pleasure sifting and soothing him. His bed felt better with Youngwoon in it, with Youngwoon against him. It would end. He knew that. Men found lovers in their real life, or grew tired, choosing one of the others to sate their desires with. It was easy to pretend, but not wise to expect, and that was what Sungmin could not do. Youngwoon’s generous tips, his touch, his kisses, they were temporary and fleeting, even if he could imagine sleeping more nights with Youngwoon holding Sungmin’s hand against his heart. He wondered what restaurants Youngwoon enjoyed, what movies, or cars. He wondered what kind of man Youngwoon wanted to date, if he wanted to date men at all. He wondered if Youngwoon would be amused if Sungmin sometimes felt his body responding to other men sometimes, his mind wandering to Youngwoon. It rarely ended in anything more than him getting half hard and sending the client on his way, but it was something new.

Youngwoon shifted, murmuring as he drew Sungmin in closer. When Youngwoon woke, murmuring that he had to leave, Sungmin rose with him, loosely belting a robe and helping Youngwoon to do up his shirt buttons.

“It’s too early to function,” Youngwoon murmured, pulling Sungmin into him and breathing into his neck.

“If you fall asleep, do you think I can keep you upright?” Sungmin asked after a moment. It got him a sleepy chuckle, a kiss pressed against his skin. He usually would have backed away, as he did with any client, being polite and insinuating a distance between himself and a client. Instead he cupped Youngwoon’s face, feeling Youngwoon hum against his lips as they kissed. Youngwoon’s hands sliding over his hips urged him closer, meeting Youngwoon’s tongue. It was a lazy, almost comforting kiss. It was as though it was a kiss goodbye, a kiss to sustain them until their next meeting. The solid warmth of Youngwoon’s face, the arm holding him.

“You make it hard to go,” Youngwoon said, breathing with his forehead against Sungmin’s.

He didn’t have words to answer, so instead he kissed Youngwoon again. Knowing Youngwoon would be back made it easier to let him go. And he knew he was well and truly fucked at that thought. And he bit his lip as Youngwoon kissed his cheek, his neck, and pulled away.

Youngwoon almost seemed as though he wanted to say something, and didn’t, and Sungmin kept his chin up in the silence. He half laughed when Youngwoon had to half push back in the door, tossing money onto the table - Sungmin’s tip - before kissing Sungmin hard.

Sungmin curled in his bed, naked, and let the lingering warmth and the scents Youngwoon had left behind, envelop him.

***

Sungmin ached as he stood in the shower, not one part of his body that wasn’t sore from hard gripping, hard fucking. He would have grimaced but his jaw ached from being held open, his throat raw from repeated thrusts. His last hour of the day had been three men and they’d paid a premium to manhandle him how they wanted. And they’d used him without pause that whole hour. Even using condoms, he had semen in his hair, on his back, and he showered trying to wash the scent of them away, the cruel twists of their hands. He’d hoped it would be Youngwoon buying the night, and instead he’d blown nine men and been fucked by five, not counting the two managers who’d bent him over before his shift. It had been never-ending, one cock after the other, more packed than any night in the last month.

He was only in a towel when his manager threw a plastic garbage bag at his feet. “Pack your shit. You have ten minutes.”

Sungmin stared.

“What?”

“Pack your shit. Your debt was bought out. You’re not my problem any more.”

“It was bought— When? By who?”

“This morning, and I have no idea who.”

“This morning,” Sungmin repeated dully. “Then tonight was…”

“Consider it a thank you to us for looking out for you for so long. You can even keep your tips tonight.”

“Where will I go?” Sungmin asked, panicked when the man turned to go.

“Don’t know, don’t care. You know what you’re made for, so I can bet where you end up. Just don’t use yourself up before you come crawling back here. Now get out before I charge you rent.”

Sungmin raked clothes into the bag, his shower caddy, his money and secret stash.

“Zhou Mi?” he asked, pausing beside the manager in the hall. He just wanted to say goodbye.

“He’s got a few clients with him in the bondage room. Afraid he’s too tied up to give you a kiss and see you on your way.” The outside door was opened and the manager pried open the bag in Sungmin’s hand, sprinkling unopened condoms and lube. “Wouldn’t want you to starve out there.”

And the door was shut in his face.

***

It wasn’t like Sungmin was from a different century, it had just been a few years since he’d been free to make his own decisions except for during his down time. Maybe he had no real idea about the area he was in, but he was clothed, and he had money. After fifteen minutes of walking, he hailed a taxi, asking the driver’s advice for a good but inexpensive hotel. With the money he had, he figured he could stay there a few nights at least, while he thought about what to do. After checking in, he bought food at a convenience store, feeling conspicuous just being in the open, like anyone would recognize him for what he had done. Everything was familiar, like an echo he just had to catch up with. He bought a cheap backpack to pack his belongings in so he didn’t look so stupid with his plastic bag.

Before he and his father had left, he’d had friends, friends that would be grown and out of college.

But there was only one man he knew he had to find, one man he knew that was responsible for him having a chance. In his tip jar was a card, from some visit from months ago. It had started to fray on the edges from the press of money, from the way Sungmin’s fingers had rubbed against it. It took him to a building, and to a door. And he straightened his shoulders as the door bell chimed.

And he met Youngwoon’s widening eyes.

***

Youngwoon did not deny that he had been responsible for Sungmin’s release, but he did not confirm it at first either. What he did deny was that Sungmin owed him anything.

“As a requirement of our custody arrangement, I agreed to stop going to any kind of bars,” Youngwoon said, rubbing his hands together. “If you added the amount I would have spent on you over the next few weeks, it was about the same as what they said your debt was.”

Sungmin sat in silence for several moments. “Did you at least try to talk them down?”

“I didn’t see the point. It was less than what you had told me, and I didn’t want them to take it out on you if they felt they’d been shorted.”

That only made Sungmin angrier because they had taken it out on him, even if they hadn’t been shorted.

“If you couldn’t go back, how did you know I wasn’t there any more?” Sungmin asked. “They could’ve moved me to some other club.”

Youngwoon nodded. “I know. I know you didn’t leave until later, but I had someone watch to be sure I wasn’t cheated. They knew that, too.”

That undid a knot inside of Sungmin. There hadn’t just been money exchanged on some unfounded trust. If Youngwoon hadn’t had the money, he just would have never shown up again, and that stung more than anything. Maybe it would have been a couple of weeks of waiting before he started giving up hope, or worrying that Youngwoon had been killed in the street, or had found some other hole to fuck. But Youngwoon had bought his freedom.

“I realize that paying for my freedom was cheaper for you. But you still paid and got nothing in return.” Sungmin held up a hand before Youngwoon could interrupt. “I’m not going to offer you my body. There has to be something I can do to pay you back. It doesn’t matter how long it takes.”

“I didn’t do this so you could become indentured to me.”

“Daddy?”

They both looked up as a little girl, tiny, no taller than his knee, cleared the couch. Her nightdress was almost down to her toes, her dark hair caught in wings around her face.

“Come here, baby,” Youngwoon said, and she settled easy and secure against his chest as he murmured to her. Then his eyes lifted to Sungmin. “Have you figured out a place to stay? Or what you want to do?”

“Finding my father might be one thing,” Sungmin said, the words unpleasant in his mouth. “I want to get a job. I want to get a degree. That’s what I expected when I came back here. Universities might not take me, but—“

“They will,” Youngwoon interrupted. “They should. My step-brother is in university right now, and his father’s an administrator. I’ll ask my brother. We can see if we can get you in some place.”

“Why would your brother help me?”

Youngwoon shrugged a shoulder, petting his daughter’s hair. “Our relationship has been closer after I got out of prison. He’s probably seen you at the nightclub, though. Just so you’re aware. He never visited you, though. I made sure of that.”

“That’s a unique way of bonding,” Sungmin said wryly, and Youngwoon just grinned a little, shrugging. And then he realized what he was even saying. “I didn’t come here so you’d feel obligated to help me.”

“I did something stupid that got me in trouble,” Youngwoon said. “I wasn’t too proud to take a hand to get me going in the right direction. I can help you get started.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? You could’ve walked out of there with me.”

And he wouldn’t have been left there to be used as some last hurrah.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to see me after, or feel indebted like I bought you out for myself. I didn’t want to… My reasons were shit. I’m glad you came to find me. You didn’t hear that,” Youngwoon said at his sleeping daughter.

She looked sweet, tucked up against Youngwoon’s chest like that. It stirred memories, mostly good ones, of doing his homework to the sound of children playing.

“I used to take care of kids, when I was in high school,” Sungmin said, the idea coming slow to him. “It was how I made some pocket change, and tried to contribute to my…benefactor.”

Youngwoon scowled at the mention of the man, even as he nodded. And he did what any parent would do, grilling Sungmin about what ages he’d looked over, for how long, if he enjoyed it. Until he, it seemed, was satisfied. “We can try that, while we figure out the university thing. If you get in close to here, it could work, if not, we change, no harm.”

“You don’t have to pay—“

“I’ll pay you,” Youngwoon insisted. “We’ll write up a contract based on fair rates, like anyone else would get. Look, I don’t take this lightly. This is my kid we’re talking about, and I want to see you with her first. But if you say you know kids, I believe you. I’ll pay you, because you need to see every coin you make. You can take that money and pay the school.”

“But you?” Sungmin asked, his lips numb, as Youngwoon stood with his daughter in his arms.

“You paid me back the moment you made your choice,” Youngwoon said, his back to Sungmin. “As much as they made off you, they’d have kept you if you’d wanted. You wanted to go. Either way, you wouldn’t have owed me anything.”

***

The first morning that Sungmin woke in Youngwoon’s apartment, he had only begun getting used to the idea that nothing was going to be expected of him. Youngwoon had insisted, showing Sungmin the extra room, and sure enough when Sungmin had returned with his bag, there was a bed already made, a set of shelves and drawers for his clothes and a small desk.

“You can use anything in the bathroom or kitchen,” Youngwoon said, sounding more like a hotelier than anything else. “There are books in the living room that you’re welcome to. You need a phone? We’ll get you one. You’ll need a laptop for your school, as well, but you can use my old one until then.”

It was like getting battered by a wind. Sungmin thought perhaps that Youngwoon was too deep in being a father. He really hadn’t expected to leave one place where his every move was dictated, only to go to another. And yet, there was a certain amount of comfort in that: because there was trust. Maybe Youngwoon saw how lost Sungmin felt, how he needed to take steps. He wanted the confidence back he’d had as a teenager.

Sungmin’s first test had been meeting Youngwoon’s daughter, Minhee. She had been shy at first, as some children were, before showing him through her collection of toys. By hour three, she was dozing against his knee as Youngwoon read in a chair, having been glancing up only once in a while.

“She likes you,” Youngwoon said. “That’s good.”

It was. It was, and Sungmin took the afternoon, taking Youngwoon’s offered spare key and his wallet and going the two places he knew he needed to go - the doctor and the store. They had been tested regularly in the nightclub as a matter of routine, but he needed to know because if he would care for a child or had any chance of— He shook his head. For himself, and everyone’s safety, he had to know. The amount of money he had had dwindled frighteningly. But he knew more would be coming his way, and he would know when and why.

***

Sungmin could feel Youngwoon’s eyes on him when he was with Minhee. It was a sign of trust, Sungmin knew that, to allow anyone around a child. They spent two days like that, Youngwoon on a laptop and working from home and Sungmin getting to know the routines of the child he would be looking after. And getting to know Youngwoon’s routines. A house could not run on how Youngwoon liked his cock sucked, and that was seemingly all Sungmin knew, and the only thing he couldn’t put into practice. For the first half day, he was nearly afraid of looking at Youngwoon as though he would take that the wrong way or as invitation. It was not so much that Sungmin would have minded, and more might have welcomed it, but he had drawn that line for a reason. He needed to discover his foundation, and the only way he knew to do that was to focus on his job, and moving forward.

Though it wasn’t the sex he missed, as much as it was the press of Youngwoon’s hand against his back, the way his voice trailed away as he fell into sleep, and the easy way they had talked about their secrets. Youngwoon was being cautious with him as well, Sungmin thought. No advances, no innuendo, barely any touching except when they were handing things to each other. That Youngwoon had wanted him once was not something that Sungmin doubted. It was likely, and he half hoped it was, that Youngwoon still did and was holding back for both their sakes.

“You don’t have to cook for me,” Youngwoon insisted one night when he came home to a plate of food waiting for him in the refrigerator. “See to yourself and Minhee, and I can take care of me.”

“It’s harder to cook for just one. One and a half,” Sungmin corrected, since Minhee was busy running over dolls and dinosaurs with some kind of monster truck. “There’s always some left over, so making sure there’s enough for you isn’t a problem.”

“And you eat enough?”

Sungmin laughed. “Food is the last thing I’ll give up.”

Youngwoon didn’t seem to quite believe him but he didn’t press about it. It reminded him of standing in the tiny kitchen bickering with Zhou Mi about what to eat for breakfast.

“What’s that face for?” Youngwoon asked.

It was a delicate topic, because as he anticipated his wages, knowing they should go toward his schooling or to his room or board, he thought of Zhou Mi. Zhou Mi had no one who would help him as Sungmin had.

“I had— Have a friend there, at the club. Zhou Mi. Another man who worked there. We tried to look out for each other. I wonder how he’s doing.”

“Zhou Mi. I’ve heard that name,” Youngwoon said.

“You might have at the club. I should get Minhee cleaned up for bed.”

Youngwoon didn’t disagree, or try to stop him. Sungmin couldn’t forget everything of his past, and though Youngwoon was part of that, he was at least a positive part. Part of the fun Sungmin got out of cooking was, providing Minhee’s palate, he got to make whatever it was he wanted. And that was control he relished. Though Youngwoon began to return home home with his arms full of groceries, as though he didn’t think Sungmin was ordering quite enough - even if it was on Youngwoon’s account. He gave Youngwoon every receipt every time he bought something for the house or for Minhee. He would not break the trust between them.

***

Part Two

***