#easing myself back into drawing by indulging in gay boys

[in-case-of-rain]

Double Decker! Halloween (!!!)

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Made Man

(ao3 story link)

A/N: HERE WE ARE. The story began with Jamie getting ready for a Reagan Family Sunday dinner and 40-some chapters later, it wraps up at another one. This is the last chapter of A Made Man, the third installment of The Penthouse series. What a damn ride this has been. Oof. Thanks for being here for it all.

Chapter 47.

“Uncle Jamie, that’s a pretty sick watch.”

I barely hear the observation from my nephew Jack across the dining room table. My gaze is fixed on the mountain of macaroni and cheese on my plate in front of me, the sight alone making my stomach turn.

“Hey Uncle Jamie—” Danny’s voice cuts through as he settles into his seat. “Jack likes your watch.”

“What?” I utter, glancing up. “Oh. Thanks.”

“That new?” My brother questions with a nod.

I twist my wrist to look at the watch Noble gave me, then clear my throat. “Uh, yeah.”

“Let’s be a little less focused on sick watches just before we say grace, huh?” My grandpa announces and I see Jack snicker with a look to Nicky at Pop’s choice of words. “Since you’re the birthday boy, how about you lead off?”

Suppressing a groan, I scoot closer to the table and rest my elbows on either side of my plate. “Since it is my birthday, I reserve the right to pass,” I decide. “Someone else.”

“Oh, boo!” Danny jeers. “You don’t get a pass.”

“You pass all the time,” I argue.

“Alright, I’ll start.” Erin announces.

My dad pipes up, “Somebody please.”

My sister clears her throat. “Bless us, O Lord—”

Clasping my hands, I tip my forehead down and rest it there, just praying to make it through dinner. 

After grace, as everyone’s passing dishes, I’m relieved, and a little hopeful I can tune out, when Nicky takes over the conversation.

“Was anyone else really moved by that sermon?” She announces, passing the requested salt and pepper over to my dad. “I thought it was so romantic.”

“Romantic?” Sean protests. “Gross, it’s church.”

“Not gross,” she contends.

“I thought it was very beautiful,” Linda indulges her.

“I went and looked up that quote Father Quinn used when he talked about loss and love,” Nicky tells the table, adjusting to pull a folded piece of paper from one of her pockets. “It’s not from scripture; it’s from a book by C.S. Lewis.” As she unfolds the note, she glances up at my father. “Is it okay if I read it, Grandpa?”

My dad inhales deeply through his nose and then offers her one of his tight-lipped smiles to humor her. “Have at it.” 

Nicky grins, straightening her shoulders. “In love,” she recites, “there is no safe investment. If you want to make sure of keeping your heart intact, lock it up safe in the casket of your selfishness--”

I scoff this unintended loud breath and hunch over my plate, as if I could somehow escape this. 

Slowly, she turns her gaze my way. “I’m not finished.”

“Your niece is trying to appreciate literature,” Danny taunts. “Do you mind?”

Acquiescing, I merely gesture to her to carry on.

“But in that casket,” she resumes. “It will change. It will not break, but instead your heart will become impenetrable. The only place outside of heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love is hell--”

“Alright--” Erin speaks up while the end of Nicky’s reading prompts looks from Danny’s kids.

My brother chuckles. “It’s a little deep for fried chicken night. That’s all.”

“Give me a break,” I mutter, reaching for my water. “Who gave the homily? Doctor Phil? Glad I missed it.”

“I really enjoyed it.” Nicky shrugs. “I think it’s so true. To love is to be vulnerable--”

“What are you talking about?” I hear the way my voice cuts harshly into her easy tone, but I’m too tired to come off any other way. “You’re too young to even know what that means, Nicky.”

“Well wait a minute--” she disputes. 

I lean in to look past her at my sister. “You gonna let her spout off about the dangers of love? I didn’t think that was a concept you would endorse.”

Erin just meets my gaze, pausing to draw in a thoughtful breath.

“It wasn’t meant to start an argument,” Nicky insists. “I was going to relate it to the job of being a police officer--”

“Yes, that sounds good,” my dad speaks up. “Let’s relate it to the job.”

“No, let’s relate it to Jamie,” Danny cuts in. “Since that got him all torqued up. What happened, kid? You forget to lock up your heart in the casket of selfishness?”

Nicky giggles at the jab.

I drop my fork and it clatters against the plate as I push back and get to my feet. Turning away from the table, I stalk off out of the dining room.

“Hey. Hey!” I hear my brother holler after me along with Erin who calls my name.

But I can’t listen to this shit. I’d rather sit and have to deal with with my grandpa gripe about those homosexuals appropriating the word gay. It used to mean happy!

I’m not sure where I intend to end up so I just make my way to the bathroom and shut the door.

Already I regret the dramatic storm-off because now I’ll be expected to provide an explanation. Plus that was shitty to do to Nicky.

But of all days, this has to be the one where someone initiates some damn discussion about heartbreak like a cruel joke they’re all in on. 

I pinch right between my eyes and take a deep breath. Fuck, I’m gonna throw up. 

My core seizes and it's only a moment later that I do.

***

After a few minutes, splashing water on my face, attempting something that comes off as normal breathing, I make my way back to the dining room.

“Jamie are you okay?” Nicky speaks up. “I’m sorry if—”

“No, I’m sorry, Nicky.” I sigh, holding onto the back of my chair where I stand. “I’m uh— I’m not feeling well. I think I need to—”

“Did you puke?” Sean wonders, prompting a look of disgust from my grandfather as he chews.

“Sean.”

“It’s your favorite dinner,” Jack adds. “Mac and cheese for your birthday.”

“Boys—” Linda leans in. “Uncle Jamie doesn’t feel well.”

I acknowledge my nephews. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

“Mom made a cake.”

“You don’t look so hot,” Linda notices. “Maybe you should go lie down.”

Deciding not to argue with Danny’s wife, I simply nod. “Yeah. Maybe that’ll help.” Then I turn and head for the staircase. I could try to make it home, but it’s highly likely I’ll throw up again or have some kind of panic attack behind the wheel. So I settle on hiding in my old room upstairs instead.

I never come up here. My childhood bedroom is now this half-transitioned guest room, but a few remnants — a Harvard pennant, along with framed prints of pictures I took at Joshua Tree, a camping trip I made the summer between undergrad and law school — still hang on the wall near my bed. The old Parking For Jets Fans Only metal sign has been hung up by the door for as long as I can remember. It’s weird how these things take you back in time. 

The tall bookcase in the corner displays a few diecast model cars Joe and I used to collect, books I loved in high school, and a stack of CDs next to my stereo. 

I sniff a soft laugh when I peruse the album titles, so distinctly an era that seems a lifetime ago. Sliding out the case for U2’s Rattle and Hum, I pry it open and fit the disc in the CD player. I set it to shuffle the songs and then turn to fall across the bed. 

I don’t know how I got here. It’s like I screwed up so many steps ago, I can’t pinpoint where. I could go farther back than the night I met Noble. 

I think about when I proposed to Sydney. I was twenty-six, deliriously self-righteous after three years in the bubble of ivy league law school, acing the bar exam and convincing myself I’d never wear the NYPD uniform. 

I don’t know what life I pictured for us. But it was an easy enough fit. 

And then my brother was killed. 

The devastation was so consuming I thought I’d never be capable of caring about anything after the loss of Joe. Since, I’ve had to find life with some other purpose. With that engagement in a sort of permanent limbo, I enrolled in the Police Academy. Because it was inevitable? Because I had something to prove? A calling to step up for Joe? Probably all of it. 

And if I never had — If I’d stayed in private practice, married Sydney — would I feel like this much of a fuck up? I’ve never second guessed leaving that path behind until now. 

All I know is that I wish I’d never met Noble Sanfino.

A light tap on the door draws my attention across the room. It eases open and I see Erin, lingering there with some hesitation. 

I simply turn my gaze back up to the ceiling. “What now?” I murmur.

“Jamie, what happened?”

Exhaling a pained, breathy laugh, I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

She steps in the room enough to close the door. “I take it you had a talk with Nick.”

“We’re done, Erin,” I tell her. “It’s over. So— Nice work.”

“Jamie.” She says my name again with this concerned shock and it’s such a fucking joke to me.

My head throbs and I just want this all to be something I never think about. 

“What do you mean it’s over?”

“I questioned him about whether he knew Tommy Messina. He doesn’t. But the reality is he can never be safe in New York so what’s the point? He ended it and he’s staying in Florida. There isn’t much else to explain.”

She comes closer, arms crossed over her chest and glances around the room. “That can’t be the only solution.”

“Well that was his solution so—”

“I’m so sorry. That wasn’t my intent.”

Fuck off, I want to say. I sit up and put my feet on the floor. “Erin.”

“I like Nick a lot.”

I just shake my head and cough out this unamused laugh. “What does that matter now?”

“If I hadn’t called you with that information, would this have happened?”

I shrug. “It would have come to this point sooner or later. I guess we just didn’t want to face it until we had to.”

“So now what?”

I look at her like what the hell do you think. “I guess you can sleep at night without the threat of your car being set on fire. What do you mean now what?”

“You love him, though.” She says it quietly because this is a bizarre conversation we’ve never really had. 

If anything, her input on my relationships has only ever been her chiming in with smug, big sister commentary that I never asked for. 

“I’ll get over it,” I mutter.

She sits there a minute as if she’s contemplating her role in this. It doesn’t matter, though. What’s done is done.

Eventually, she softly attempts her next question. “Do you plan on coming out to Dad at some point?”

I glance at her, my brow furrowed. “Come out about what? No.”

She sighs when she figures that’s a dead end path and tries another way.  “There are options, Jamie. I mean you guys could live in Connecticut, that’d probably be a safer situation, and you could commute—”

Confused, I just shake my head. Don’t do this, don’t fucking problem-solve after that bullshit phone call this morning that prompted this whole fallout. As if I’m anywhere near the right frame of mind to look at the situation with some kind of reason.

Blankly, I merely offer, “I know.” And that nauseated feeling starts to spin in my head once more, but I go on. “That wasn’t the conversation though. We weren’t at a place where we’re like, ready to live together. I don’t know. It’s like, all of a sudden—”

Exhaling hard, the muscles in my chest seize. I try to tip my head back and breathe up at the ceiling but the air is trapped. So I lean forward at the waist where I sit on the edge of the bed and hang my head between my knees. 

I feel Erin’s palm up the center of my back. “Hey, hey, hey— It’s okay. Jamie, it’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have even considered—”

“Shh.” She cuts me off. “You need to breathe.”

There’s a tightness in my throat and I feel like I’m choking, Like my inhale doesn’t go anywhere. I can tell myself I’m sinking into an anxiety attack but my body doesn’t listen to the rationale. It’s terrifying that I know what it is and I can’t stop it. Telling myself I’m okay doesn’t make it relent. 

“Jamie,” Erin whispers. Then I feel pressure on my back like she’s resting her forehead there as she sits beside me, the weight steadying me. 

She’s had to do this before. But it hasn’t been since mom was really sick, there near the end, that I’ve felt the grip of panic on me this tight. Usually, I’m able to anticipate it, unwind it before I’m held captive, but not this time. 

“Try to breathe in for four seconds,” she says. “With me. Okay?”

Closing my eyes, I attempt to draw in a deep breath but I just cough out air almost like a sad laugh. “I can’t.”

“Okay two seconds,” she bargains.

I make myself sit upright and press my hands on the edge of the bed. “Goddammit,” I mutter in frustration.

“Try again. Let it be all you think about.”

Hanging my head, I inhale deeply, channel my energy into a steady breath that expands my back.

“Let it out just as slow.”

I do. But there’s still this hard squeeze like someone’s pressing just beneath my ribcage.

"See that was four seconds,” she murmurs. “Show-off."

"Don't patronize me," I manage.

Erin laughs softly and continues the steady back and forth path of her hand on my back. "Fine then as far as breathing goes, I've seen better."

Finally I exhale in amusement and just shake my head. I work on another breath.

I keep on like that for a few more, determined to follow the pattern — in for four and out for four, the sounds of it loud between my ears. It’ll pass. I can’t fight it, I have to just know I’ll get to the other side. But fuck, I don’t even want to. This will be over and Noble will still be gone.

After a few steady moments, Erin squeezes my shoulder.�� "This song," she muses, letting the slow-building track of All I Want Is You set a soothing rhythm to the air I take in. "Remember when Joe and I took you to that U2 concert? You were what, you’d just graduated high school?"

Another gradual breath while I think about that night out in the city. "Yeah," I answer. "Danny was on modified assignment working The Garden."

Erin chuckles. "I need to remind him of that cushy little gig next time he tries to say the bosses are too soft on you."

I sit there and let the music sink through me. This song is so goddamn sad it hurts. First Nicky’s absurd to love is to be vulnerable speech. And now the lull of Bono’s haunting voice musing that all the promises we break, from the cradle to the grave, when all I want is you — everything is a joke. 

I focus on the memory of that night, years ago with Erin and Joe. When simple shit like going to concerts and walking around New York, our ears ringing and our voices hoarse, was enough of a thrill and not a lot else mattered. “We had nosebleed seats,” I recall.  “And Danny managed to get us down front."

"That was a pretty awesome night."

I breathe again and the sick feeling starts to dissipate. "Between that, and this room, it's like… I'm remembering another life." 

She glances up and around, seeming to consider the memories held in time here. "It sort of was."

I swallow hard and close my eyes. "Somewhere I went wrong, Erin."

She just turns her gaze to me and offers a quiet "Shh" worried I'll get worked up again.

"How is this where I'm at?"

"Jamie, don't look for answers now."

"I have to look for answers or I'm gonna start missing him like hell."

"So let yourself miss him."

I take another slow, deep breath as the heat beneath my skin begins to taper off. At this point, it’s like missing Noble is all I have the energy for. It’s all I can do to tip back across the bed once more and close my eyes. 

My empty heart dwindles its beat down to something that almost feels normal, leaving the slightest flicker of clarity, reminding me that my only control is over what I do next.

[professor-riddikulus]

Craigslist - Ch 2

Summary: James and Sirius are looking for a roommate for their Los Angeles house - Remus has just moved from Dublin needs a place to rent while he goes to graduate school. One Craigslist ad later, the three of them find themselves living together and shit is bound to get complicated. Featuring trans Remus and the wonder of Wolfstar.

Author’s Note: I know it has been a long time friends, but I’m back! Hooray summer! I hope to be updating this more regularly now that all those pesky seminar papers are completed. I am sorry for what I assume is going to be the ridiculousness of this chapter. As you probably know, Sirius cannot be contained. Anyway, enjoy! 

You can also read this story on FF.net or Ao3 if your heart desires

It took an hour for Sirius to take a shower and get ready, during which time Padfoot and I watched several episodes of some cracked-out show called The Amazing World of Gumball and I did the cereal dishes that Sirius had left behind. He came jauntily down the stairs, hair tied back and still damp, a loose black muscle tank on that showed too much of his strong tattooed arms, too much of his lean muscled torso. I tried not to stare. I probably failed miserably because he looked pleased with himself.

“I assume,” he said flipping his keys from one hand to another, “that we're not taking the bike?”

“Your motorbike? Nah I don't particularly feel like dying this afternoon.”

He made a noise somewhere between a snicker and an indignant huff.

“Fine the car then. But I warn you, it's a few years old.”

I, of course, assumed that he meant a few years old like Lily meant a few years old when she talked about her 10 year old crappy Prius. What he actually meant was a black Mercedes S-Class that probably cost more than four years of my graduate stipend and that was exactly 3 years old. It was so beautiful that I was actually nervous to sit in the seat. Opulence in most forms makes me uncomfortable -- my parents always made a tidy living but I was always the kid putting away coins for a rainy day. The responsible one. Some people are built to be pampered, can adjust to being treated like kings, to throwing caution to the wind. I never felt comfortable indulging -- instead I was the kid who didn’t want anyone to look at him when they sang a the happy birthday song. It isn’t shyness not really, it’s well, wanting to fly under the radar I suppose. Showing off what you have draws attention.

I just looked at Sirius and I knew this wasn’t him. He stood taller than me but his posture was proud. He wasn’t afraid to take up space, wasn’t afraid to be noticed. He had no idea that taking up that space, taking up oxygen, meant taking it from someone else. I was stiff and trying not to move my dirty shoes too much on the carpet, Sirius on the other hand was completely at ease, his ripped skinny jeans clashing with the dark brown leather of the seats. He was leaned back, reclined like his body itself was used to luxury. Watching him driving the 5 with his sunglasses on, singing along to some mindless pop tune, I had the distinct feeling that Los Angeles was not going to be anything like I expected. Sure they said it was a town for movie stars, but it’s difficult to understand how value works here. Some people have so much they don’t even notice how much they have. Sirius certainly didn’t. This guy, this house, it wasn't like being in another country. I have been to France once, and nobody there even spoke the language that I spoke, yet I still felt like less of an alien. How rich was this guy?

I looked down at my Target t-shirt, one that Lily and I had picked out only a few days before. It was my favorite, but next to the glamour of the car, the palm trees, and the guy sitting next to me I felt distinctly shabby. It wasn’t like I was usually fashion-forward. I do my best to stay at least a bit put together but I’m not a trend-setter. I’m sure his pants cost the same as my whole outfit. Probably more, actually. I tried to shake myself, there was no reason to be ashamed, and in any case he was the one being stupid by buying such an expensive car. I sighed, if I had that kind of money, even a quarter of that kind of money, there are so many other things I’d be doing with it. I’d be giving back to the community, I’d be working for a nonprofit, I’d be paying off my student loans. I’d be doing something, anything, other than buying a car that might be the price of a house anywhere else. The very thought of it made my nerves feel frayed. I was going to be living around this kind of wealth, benefitting from it even.

I looked over at Sirius, whose grin slipped a bit at what must have been a concerned or frustrated look on my face but which he quickly replaced the grin. Perhaps he didn’t want me to see his concern?

“You don’t like Drake? We can change the radio to something else?”

“Don’t worry mate, I’m good. Your car is really something.”

“Yeah it’s pretty okay. I bought it as a graduation present to myself.”

“Oh? Where did you do your undergraduate degree?”

“James and I went to USC together, that’s where you’re going, right?”

“Yeah,” I grinned to myself, I hadn’t even considered that Sirius had gone to college at all somehow, but if he did, USC didn’t surprise me. Lily told me that it had a bit of a reputation for being a school for rich American kids, especially west coast kids -- those Orange County, Beverly Hills, Malibu, rich kids -- someone like Sirius I guess, “I guess you’ll have to show me around at some point.”

“You’ll figure it out quick, s’not a big campus.”

I paused, weighing my options a bit. I chewed the inside of my lip. You’re being a coward Remus Lupin. He’s not going to think anything. “So,” I let the word hang in the air a bit, “do they have, erm, a big queer community there? Like among the undergraduates at least?”

Sirius smirked at me, “Are we gonna have that talk?”

I panicked, “What? What talk?!”

“I mean the, ‘oh-here’s-how-I-came-out’ talk. The ‘I’m-gay-you’re-gay’ talk. The ‘do-you-have-a-boyfriend’ talk.”

“I see no reason why we have to. All that is pretty obvious isn’t it?” I picked at the stray thread sticking out from the knee of my jeans but I could feel him looking back and forth from the road to me, trying to catch my eyes. I was embarrassed for a reason I couldn’t quite explain, sweating a bit, and not because of the heat. He looked at me like he was trying to read me, like he was regarding a particularly interesting painting and he wanted to examine the individual brush strokes. I felt on display under such scrutiny, exposed even, but I forced my eyes back up to his. He wasn’t going to see me squirm. I wasn’t going to let him affect me. He was just some spoiled kid from southern California. I was going to hold my own.

Sirius smiled, “Maybe not that last one. You haven’t picked up some all-American boy, swooned by the lilting accent of Mother Ireland?”

“Excuse me?” I laughed so hard at this abrupt shift that I needed a minute to compose myself, “What even are you?”

“I told you, wolfboy, I’m a star.”

“You’re something, that’s for sure.”

“Something amazing. It’s okay, I understand, words fail you.”

I shook my head at this, how I was supposed to continue the conversation after that, I had no idea. I had the distinct feeling that what was happening was something of a face off. He was taking the measure of me, wanted to see if I was going to keep up with him. It was the same feeling that I had when he fired his ‘interview’ questions at me. It was like dealing with a toddler that wanted to see how far he could push the rules. Luckily, I’m stubborn, and I’ve always loved a challenge. When I didn’t say anything, Sirius didn’t seem to have a hard time filling the void. He probably would have talked to the empty seat if I hadn’t been there.

“Yeah, it’s badass that you’re a big queer though. I was getting annoyed being the only rainbow unicorn in the house. Now we finally outnumber James and his dirty fucking heterosexuality.”

I laughed a little, “Yeah. In case he tries to convert us, strength in numbers and all that.”

“Oh don’t worry, he’s way beyond that. Literally all our friends are queer, he always complains there’s never anyone for him to date because all our female friends are lezzies. Dude that reminds me, we should definitely have a pool party to welcome you to the family.”

Literally anything but a pool party. Pool parties meant swimming which meant swimwear and I didn’t think we were going to be at that point for quite a while, if at all, really.

“I dunno, maybe in a little bit when I get settled and get the furniture built and everything.”

Sirius shrugged and ran a hand along the top of his head, pushing back the strands of dark hair that had fallen around his face, I think it was the first time that I hadn’t seen him smiling and I wondered if I had wounded him, “Yeah, ‘course. Whatever you want.”

We pulled up to the Ikea in Burbank and parked, and Sirius looked at me, wide-eyed and stunned. “Don’t fuck with me Remus, this…” he gestured to the giant blue and yellow building in front of us that was the biggest one I’d ever seen, “this is a fucking furniture store?! It looks like several goddamn airplane hangers put together.”

“Just you wait,” I told him unbuckling my seatbelt, “I have a feeling you’re going to lose it.”

I was not wrong.

“This is fucking NUTS!” Sirius leaned dangerously far over the escalator as we took it up to the second floor to start making our way through the maze of mock rooms that made up the Ikea showroom. I pulled on the back of his shirt, trying not to be distracted by the amount of tan skin this action revealed.

“You’re going to kill yourself. God Sirius don’t lean that far over.”

“Okay Dad sorry.” Sirius snickered but he stopped leaning over the escalator.

When we got to the top Sirius’ eyes lit up as he surveyed the floor full of mock-rooms and tiny apartments. “YOU COULD LIVE HERE!” He nearly ran to the first room, threw himself on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. I rolled my eyes and picked up a pencil and pad to record the numbers of the furniture. When I walked over to Sirius he was wiggling his feet and looking incredibly pleased.

“It’s like a goddamn Swedish Disneyland dude.”

I laughed, “And like Disneyland, we’ve got a long way to go, you can’t spend ten minutes sitting on every couch along the way.”

“This one is comfy though, you should get it.”

I turned over the ticket and laughed, “No way, it’s almost two thousand dollars.”

Sirius’ eyes got, if possible, even wider, “That’s it?! Dude that’s hella cheap.”

“Not at Ikea Sirius, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

“It gets cheaper?”

“Jesus you’re spoiled aren’t you?”

“Yeah well, I’m amazing so…”

“You’ve got to be kidding with me.”

Sirius looked me dead in the eyes from his slouched perch on the couch, “Absolutely not, I’m completely Sirius.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” I said exasperatedly, throwing up my hands a bit dramatically and trying to hide a smile, “I’m leaving your punny ass here.” I didn’t want to laugh but something about his mix of monetary ignorance and over-the-top childish antics meant that I couldn’t help it. You are not supposed to find him funny. He is a complete wank. He wants you to laugh, wants the attention. Don’t you fall for it. I wasn’t going to be just another sad sack who gave Sirius Black attention, even if I wanted to be. I started walking away towards the next room, which had a smaller sofa with shelves built into the side and back that was a bit more my style.

Sirius jogged to catch up with me and threw an arm around my shoulders, he was a few inches taller than me with a much longer torso and so his arm fit comfortably there. He smelled good, like rain and wood and cigarette smoke. “No one ever leaves my ass Lupin.”

“This is going to be a long day if you don’t focus and help me pick out furniture.”

“Okay,” he said with mock composure, “I promise to be on my best behavior.”

His best behavior it turned out, involved pretending that each room was part of his house, picking up everything that wasn’t tied down, arguing with me about the color of the upholstery, trying to wear curtains like a toga, spinning around on the desk chairs, forcing me to lay next to him on every mattress, climbing through (and getting stuck in) the children's tunnel, and generally making a fool of himself. I tried to contain the damage, shooting apologizing looks at passerby and generally steering him away from irate employees but it was difficult to try to pretend to be stern with him when I was snorting with laughter. When I pointed out that people were staring, he just responded shrugging and laughing “of course they’re staring, we’re gorgeous”. He was an idiot for sure, but you had to admire him for his general lack of fucks.   

“I can’t afford that one, Black!” Sirius was sitting on the edge of one of the nicer beds in the showroom. This one was a mid tone warm wood with a dark blue upholstered headboard that looked like a lovely place to lean back on while reading a book. I really did like it, and so arguing with Sirius about why I wasn’t going to buy it was proving to be difficult.

“Remus it is only $499. And it’s the bed! It is the literal centerpiece of your life, sleeping, watching TV, fuck--”

“OKAY OKAY shut up oh my god those people are giving us the boss eyes.” I cut him off as a posh looking couple with a little girl hastily pulled her away from the madman and his terrible language, “Look Sirius I have to buy a whole bedroom and living room/office I can’t get the exact one I want of everything.”

“I’m just saying that other bed you wrote down looks like it would break if you were using it properly.” He had a point here, but the metal one was $350 less and that was a large amount of money for some fake wood.

I laughed and felt my cheeks getting hot, “I don’t think we have to worry about me using it for anything other than sleeping.”

“Please. You’re going to get so much fucking play in Los Angeles dude. You’re fucking cute.”

“Okay but we were talking about the bed.”

“Ahhhh,” Sirius looked satisfied with himself, one hand on his hip, “You can’t take a compliment can you?”

I was absolutely bright red at this point. I felt like his eyes were appraising me. I knew that look, I’d seen it before. “Sirius focus, the bed.”

“Well I still say you gotta splurge on the bed,” he said and he started cracking up, “Oh my GOD that sounded SO WRONG!” Then he laugh-snorted so loudly that across the aisle a woman started giggling. I laughed so hard I was crying and had to sit down next to him on the bed. It was several minutes before the two of us even calmed down enough to speak to one another and I was wiping the tears from my eyes with the back of my arm.

“Okay Lupin, I’m buying the bed.”

“What? You are not.”

“We’re roomies now right? Family. And I fuckin’ like you.”

“I mean I like you too so far--”

“So far? Fuck the hell off.” He looked actually offended so I tried once again to redirect his attention to the task at hand.

“I just mean it’s $500 Sirius. I can’t accept that, we barely know each other.”

“Just let me buy you a house warming gift. Stop making such a big fucking deal over it. It’s just money.”

“I can’t Sirius. It’s just too much money.”

“Okay well I’m buying this bed because the headboard is dope and I know you like it a ton more than the other one, AND because I’ve jumped on it and know it’s sturdy enough,” And the cheeky bastard winked at me again, “So if you buy that other shitty $150 one you’ll have two beds and I know that back house is spacious but I don’t think two queen beds would fit in it.”

What was I going to say? I could already tell by the way that he drew himself up when he said it, the way his tone shifted to all-business, (and I turned out to be right) that Sirius wasn’t the kind of person who takes no for an answer. He gave orders like someone that was used to having those orders obeyed. Someone who had heard ‘yes’ a few too many times. When he gets his mind stuck on something there’s no moving him. So I sighed and smiled at him.

“Okay. Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

He stood, took the pencil from my hand and wrote down the number of the new bed on the pad that already had a long list of the other furniture I was buying. “Thank you will do, Lupin. Now let’s go get the last few things, you told me there’s ice cream at the end of this and I am all about that.”

He complained all the way through picking out rugs and curtains and throw pillows (I really like throw pillows okay?) but when we got to actually picking up all the boxes from the warehouse the biggest problem I had was trying not to just stand there and watch him load cart after cart with heavy boxes. Give me a break, yeah? He was showing a lot of skin and I’m on a lot of testosterone. Together we wheeled the loaded carts to the delivery counter (and went back for two more). A little more than $3,500 later, I had a bed, couch, bedside table, desk, two chairs, two rugs, coffee table, lights, shelves, TV stand, dresser, sheets and towels, comforter, curtains, throw pillows, a large cactus Sirius was calling “the scary phallus”, and even a warm blanket that reminded me of one of my favorite old jumpers. I had only spend so much money at once one other time in my life, when I bought a shitty old car my first year of uni from a kid that I had a crush on at the time. The car worked out, the crush...not so much.

I treated Sirius to an ice cream, which I figured was less than he deserved after spending five hours with me in Ikea and buying me a bed. But it was the most that he’d accept. I didn’t know what else to do. But he seemed happy enough, he did flush a bit red when I wouldn’t stop thanking him, so I guess he appreciated it even if he told me to “shut the actual fuck up”. Somehow he was still full of energy even after lifting hundreds of pounds of furniture and walking all over the certifiably biggest Ikea in the country. If I had been worried about how nice his car was on the way there, I worried less on the way back, leaning back into the incredibly soft seats and putting my head back felt like a reward after carting box after box to the delivery desk.

Sirius looked over and grinned, “Big day huh?”

I nodded, “I’m glad I only have one day until the mattress shows up, today has been a lot. The moving and the shopping and your bolloxology.”

“Um excuse me?” He laughed, “What the actual fuck did you just call me?”

“Bolloxology, you know, messing about. Your BS.”

“Holy fuck that is a ridiculous word.”

“You’re a ridiculous word.”

“Oh fantastic comeback, real smart. I can see why they let you into a PhD program.”

“You are such a muppet, and yes before you ask it means you’re an idiot.”

Sirius grinned, I had the distinct impression that he took most insults as if they were compliments -- a trait which made him infinitely charming, and infinitely frustrating at the same time. He turned up the radio and some alternative rock band was playing. As we sat quietly in traffic on the 5, the sun started to set, and it glinted deep red off the building windows, bathing the car in a warm light. It felt like we were glowing, the windows rolled down, the air just a touch stagnant between the hot cars. I felt a pang of homesickness. It was so different from the cloudy, misty-cool nights of Dublin, the old stone streets, the bustle of Grafton, the smell of the grass and trees in the park across from my favorite pub. I missed my warm jumpers with the permanent smell of tea clinging to them, the cigarette smoke hanging lazily in the air around the corner shop, proper chocolate. I missed stumbling out of The George at 3am scuttered as fuck all with my mates Sean and Frankie after a drag show and a heavy drinking session.  

As excited as I was about the new furniture, the new graduate program, the new friends and colleagues, the new roommates even, there was something sad about the perfect California horizon reflecting the last glimpses of the day. Something huge and daunting about the hot city that made me feel a bit lost, as if between the picture perfect landscape and the rubbish in the gutter there was a facade that frightened and excited me in equal measure. It was all just so big. And I was holding on to a runaway train -- Los Angeles felt like a million miles away from home. This was what it felt like, I thought a bit ruefully, to be homesick. This was also what it felt like to make something of yourself.

We arrived back at the house when it was dark, after stopping to pick up food for a whiny James who was bored without Sirius around to annoy him. When we pulled up to the house I smiled, I still could not believe that somehow I’d gotten a spot in this mansion. I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for them to find out who I was -- emphasis on the was -- but maybe they were the good sort. Maybe…

Sirius opened the door, I didn’t have a key to the front house yet, and Padfoot came bounding out. James, hair wild, glasses halfway down his nose, was sitting on the couch in front of Comedy Central working on his laptop. He lit up when he saw Sirius which I thought was sweet until--

“FOOD!” He exclaimed gleefully. “Fucking finally! Oh god is that Golden Hen?! Yesssss.”

Sirius and I passed him several containers of Chinese food and he ate faster than I thought was humanly possible. How he could eat the amount meant for a medium sized family and be as thin as he was I have no idea. I've since learned that James is a human garbage can and his jittery, always-in-motion body consumes calories at an unbelievable rate. Some guys get all the luck.

“How did it go at Ikea?” He asked through a mouth of vegetable fried rice.

“I think it was quite an education for Sirius.”

“Did you know they have ICE CREAM there dude?! It's amazing it's huge and they have all these tiny apartments in it and they sell like pots and pans for like five dollars!”

“Yeah,” James replied nonchalantly, digging through a new container of food, “I went with the Dork when she and Marlene got their new place.”

“I saw their couch!”

“Sorry, who?” I looked confusedly from one loudly chewing roommate to the other.

“Oh!” Sirius dropped the spring roll he was holding. “James we should have them over tomorrow when Wolfram here has all his furniture delivered.” The conversation was getting further and further from something that I could track, it was like they were speaking their own language.

“Sorry,” I said, wincing at the apology, “but who are we talking about, and erm...did you just call me Wolfram?”

Sirius shrugged but there was a slyness to his eyes. “Marls and the Dork--”

But James cut in, “Marlene and Dorcas are our lesbian friends. Marlene went to high school with Sirius and I, and she picked up a girlfriend up in Berkeley. Marlene and Sirius used to date before they both caught the gay so they’re still weirdly in love with one another.”

Sirius shrugged again, “She’s a fucking bombshell, who wouldn’t be fond of her?”

“I certainly am, too bad she’s given up guys.”

I laughed at James, “Not for her, statistically women who have sex with women have way more orgasms.”

James looked affronted, “Okay, listen to PhD over here. But I’ll have you know, I’m a giver.”

“Where you stick your dick is neither here nor there --” Sirius started, but I cut him off.

“Yeah, apparently it’s nowhere at all.”

James threw a fortune cookie at me but I dodged left quickly enough that it merely hit the couch behind me. Sirius laughed so hard that he almost spilt his beer, “Well he’s got you figured out hasn’t he?”

James looked at him through narrowed eyes but said nothing so Sirius eventually lapsed into a teary-eyed silence. “Okay okay, but for real Marlene and Dorcas should come over tomorrow cause we can all build Remus’ furniture together. We were going to plan a party to welcome Remus to the family but maybe just do this on the DL. Don’t want to scare him too much.”

“You really don’t have to do that.” The last thing I needed was to be the center of attention. I wasn’t even adjusted to the two guys I had moved in with. Now I had to worry about impressing their friends? And I hadn’t had a moment to myself. I really thought I’d be building by myself, maybe some Netflix on my computer. But what was I supposed to say? They wanted to be nice. They wanted to make an effort. Come on Remus. You can’t move all the way to America and then not make a fucking effort to be social.

“I mean we don’t have to do anything dude. We’re doing this because you seem cool and we like to have a good time.” James grinned and ran a hand through his hair which left a piece of rice along his temple. I decided not to point this out but instead grinned right back at him. I caught Sirius’ eye who smiled conspiratorially at me, he’d clearly seen James make a mess of himself too. I knew immediately that he was also planning to let James sit there like a tool rather than say anything.

“So Marlene and Dorcas won’t mind helping? It is a lot of work.”

“Nah,” Sirius couldn’t tear his eyes away from the rice in James’ hair, he was not exactly the best at keeping a straight face but perhaps Sirius staring weirdly at him was routine because James seemed not to notice, “They’re lesbians they’re good at building stuff you know.”

I rolled my eyes, “I’m going to text Lily too?”

James lit up like a fucking ray of sunshine. I almost instantly regretted suggesting it. Things always get complicated when your mates want to bone one another, but on the other hand, I didn’t want to be totally outnumbered with people that I didn’t know and since I’d moved to Los Angeles, Lily was the only person I’d met from abroad. Sure she was from England, but you have to take what you can get when no one in America can make a decent cup of tea.

Sirius nodded, “I mean the more hands the easier it’ll be right? We can do beer and pizza and maybe even swim a bit.”

“I’m already texting the girls.” James was tapping madly at his phone.

That night, after stuffing my face with Chinese food with James and Sirius, I padded upstairs to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms after James absolutely refused to let me spend the night on the sofa. Despite myself I think I was already starting to like the two idiots. It was weird, I’d never had cis guy mates in Ireland that would stick around for very long. Something about my having a vagina. Sure there were lads that would return my texts periodically, or that were good for a pint or two. I don’t know what made them scare so easily -- I was still the same guy. I’d been lucky, I’d been able to pass as a (perhaps effeminate) guy for awhile even before I started testosterone. But it was always the same once they found out -- the queers, the ones that had wanted to fuck me, or to keep me around to see if they wanted to fuck me, when they found out that I lacked something they liked, that was enough reason to abandon ship. The straights, the ones that were good for a night out on the piss or that didn’t mind me when I was a winner for their team in football, they disappeared entirely. I was no longer one of the gang. Didn’t matter that the dosage I was on meant I had more testo in my system than some of them. I liked them, yeah, but I also didn’t want to get attached. Being attached, hoping for something more than a casual friendship with cis guys was like -- it was asking for heartbreak.

I waited until I heard the two of them head to bed before I stripped down to my boxer briefs. I lifted my arms and pulled my binder off slowly, peeling it away from my ribs and wincing. Too many hours in it today meant that I was probably going to feel it tomorrow. Even with the new ones I’d ordered there was always that inability to take a deep breath, the pull on the ribs that made you sore and sweaty after a long day in the thing. It was one thing in Dublin where it never got too hot, but here, where it seemingly never dipped under 70, adding an extra layer was tough. I touched my chest a bit and it was tender but I didn't think I'd have bruises. I thought about how James and Sirius had invited their friends over tomorrow and sighed. I probably wouldn't have much chance to go without the damn thing tomorrow either. Swimming? It was out of the question -- I was going to have to find a reason to pass.

I could have just told them when I came in for the interview. Lily never asked me why I didn’t even though she knew, for which I was grateful. I had been open with the department at USC, had even mentioned it in my entrance essay. I was working on trans and queer literature and film it wasn’t the most difficult puzzle to piece together. Somehow though, I just hadn’t been able to do it. I didn’t want to lose the chance at the room, and sure, I guess I liked them. Now it was as if I were keeping it from them. Every day that passed meant that I was going to get more attached to my new mansion, my new mates. It would be better to get it all out in the open now and find out if they were going to be phobic.

But now I’d ordered the furniture. It was coming tomorrow, and leaving was going to be a bit harder when I had a small apartment’s worth of furniture to move along with the boxes that were currently in the pool house. I ran my hands through my hair, trying not to let the fear that shot through me overwhelm me. Sirius was queer, he specifically asked for a queer roommate. It wasn’t going to matter. And anyway, there was no reason why they should find out.

[exosmutxoxo]

Dangerous Woman (Part 1) 🌙

A/N: Hello everyone! As promised, here is the full ‘Dangerous Woman’ smut for all of you! This is part 1 of the trilogy so look forward to more after this! Part 2 and 3 will not be related to this particular smut so every fic will be based on a different scenario! Hope y’all would enjoy this little baby of mine x

Pairing(s): Luhan x Reader

Warnings: Call-girl industry references, blowjobs, sex in general

Genre: Smutty smut ;)

Requested: No

Summary: In which drug lord! and successful CEO! Luhan goes to a particular call-girl to get his needs fulfilled.

Word Count: 6103

Soundtrack: Dangerous Woman // Ariana Grande

I wanna savour, save it for later

The taste, the flavour

As the CEO of Lu Corporations, the largest upscale drug company in Korea and China, Luhan is viewed as the typical, arrogant and loaded young businessman whom everyone assumes him to be. It’s not exactly untrue; the twenty-six-year-old drug lord basically sits on stacks and stacks of dollar bills in his Lamborghini all day long, admiring his flawless reflection in the rear-view mirror and aimlessly thinking of methods to earn even more money.

Disgustingly handsome and reeking of wealth and power, Luhan walks the world with unbreakable confidence, never seen in public without his perfectly tailored suit and his jet-black hair gelled back with a vengeance. Women clamour to be by his side, dying to look good on his arm. Yet, for some strange and unknown reason, the young drug lord chooses to remain single despite the endless stream of females queuing up to be with him.

Nevertheless, the world views him as one of the luckiest and most successful bachelors out there. Wealth, glory, power, devastatingly good looks, a smooth-running business, a diversity of women to date. What’s there for him to complain about?

Well, there is a teensy little problem for him.

With all the workload and the useless business meetings he has to attend, he barely has enough time for himself and although he might be one of the most successful young men in the country, he’s still…well, a man. And men have their needs that need to be fulfilled, don’t they?

So fulfil them he does. And he accomplishes that by simply picking up the phone and making a call.

“I am what you call a dangerous woman”, I boldly proclaim to Sehun, hopping onto his desk and perching on the edge, plucking a lollipop from the sweet bowl by his elbow and unwrapping it swiftly, popping it into my mouth as I grin down at him.

Sehun rolls his eyes good-naturedly at my declaration, leaning back in his swivel chair with his arms propped behind his head comfortably. “Last week you claimed you were the reincarnation of catwoman and strutted around in cat ears for days on end. What’s with the ‘dangerous woman’ now? Is it a new thing to keep the clients coming back for more?”

I whip the lollipop out of my mouth and point it at him triumphantly. “Bingo”.

He chuckles in response. “Why, though? The cat ears drove the men crazy from what I recalled, judging from the amount of phone calls I had to answer on your behalf”.

“You don’t get it”, I exclaim. “I’m not getting rid of the cat ears. From now onwards, I am a dangerous woman with cat ears. It’s the perfect way to enthral the men, since almost everybody has a kitten kink nowadays”.

“Whatever you say, (Y/N)”, Sehun quips back, pretending to act disinterested, prompting me to lean across his desk and shove him in the shoulder playfully, to which he pulls a funny face in response, causing me to break into giggles.

Sehun has been my best friend ever since I wandered into the call-girl industry a few years back; we’d met when he’d introduced himself as the ‘receptionist’, also known as the guy who takes my calls from my clients and delivers messages to me. On our off days, we would always head out for bubble tea together and talk about everything and anything under the sun. But our friendship has never progressed to a relationship, considering that I’m always too busy pleasing other men and the fact that Sehun is gay. So best friends we’ve been for the past few years and I wouldn’t swap him for any other man in the world.

Now, as I return my attention to my lollipop, the telephone on the desk rings out shrilly. With an air of huffy annoyance, Sehun springs from his swivel chair and picks up the phone, placing it against his left ear. “You’ve reached the line for (Y/N)’s services. May I take a message for her?” He greets in an unusually upbeat tone, the honeyed tone he normally reserves for when it’s time to converse with clients.

He listens intently, tapping a pencil against his lip as the person on the other end natters away. Then he covers the mouthpiece with his other hand, dropping the pencil on the tabletop and gesturing to me. “It’s Mr Lu”, my best friend whispers. “He’s asking for you”.

“He’s always asking for me”, I remark, running my tongue over the lollipop. My heartbeat starts to quicken in my chest, excitement coursing through my veins at the mention of my favourite client. Okay, I know a call-girl isn’t supposed to have a favourite client but who’s to know, eh?

“That’s true”, Sehun admits. “But he wants you to come to the phone”.

I reach over and pluck the receiver from his grasp, putting it to my ear as I splay myself across his desk, much to his exasperation. “(Y/N) speaking”, I say sweetly. “How may I help you today, Mr Lu?”

“Like how you always do, (Y/N)”, Luhan murmurs down the line, voice laced with lustful need. “Got any appointments tonight?”

“Give me a minute”. Covering the mouthpiece, I prod at Sehun’s shoulder. “Hey, secretary boy. Am I seeing any other clients tonight?”

He grumbles at the nickname but still proceeds to check for me, hitting some keys on his laptop and squinting at the screen. “Nope”, he states. “You’re free and available to be a dangerous woman with Luhan tonight”.

Giggling, I resume the call, deliberately making suggestive sucking noises with my lollipop and ensuring that they’re audible enough for Luhan on the other end. He catches it immediately and in my mind’s eye, I can already see his rock-hard erection straining against the material of his pants, begging to be released. “I’m all yours tonight”, I coo down the line, earning a gagging noise from Sehun who pretends to stick his fingers down his throat. In response, I give him the middle finger, sticking out my tongue.

“Excellent”, Luhan croons in my ear, the word itself screaming sex. “See you tonight at our usual hotel downtown. Wait for me at the entrance when you arrive. Oh, and also”, he drops his voice an octave lower, “remember to wear something pretty just for me”.

“And easily removable”, I add coyly, sucking off my lollipop with a flourish and tossing the stick into the nearby trashcan.

“That’s my girl. See you at seven thirty sharp”.

I’ve known Luhan ever since I was younger and more innocent and just freshly starting out in the call-girl industry. We’re only two years apart in age but by the time we met, our livelihood paths were already very different. He was my very first client, back when he’d already clambered his way up the business ladder and appointed himself as the CEO of his drug company. By the time he met me, he was already earning big bucks by the millions, most of which he’s been spending on me for my services. In short, I get paid by the thousands because I’m fucking fantastic in bed. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that I’m an expert in sucking dick.

Don’t get me wrong, though. As much as I love the money, a tiny bit of me has to admit that I love Luhan’s presence even more. Despite his cynical and calculative exterior, he’s a real sweetheart underneath it all. He’s made me laugh whenever he took notice of my down moods during our ‘meet-ups’, indulged in intellectual arguments with me about politics and even wiped away my tears whenever I complained bitterly about how I feel like a cheap whore at times.

But on the other hand, he’s nothing to me but another man to please in order to make a living for myself. And in his eyes, I’m guessing that I’m just another…source to fulfil his needs. In the end though, business is business so I’ll always be down for him (both literally and figuratively) and he’s always ready to slip a cold wad of cash under my pile of discarded clothes before dawn arrives.

So here we are now, seated opposite each other at a candlelit table in the hotel’s banquet which so happens to overlook the entire city. At seven forty-five in the evening, the sky has darkened to a mysterious ink-black and neon lights flicker through the streets, highlighting the blossoming nightlife.

But I don’t notice any of them. Instead, my gaze is fixated on Luhan’s face as he indulges himself in the menu, his lovely dark eyes scanning the lists of delectable dishes. The warm candlelight draws attention to his alluring features and a pang of longing reverberates through me. With his jet-black hair pushed back to reveal his forehead, his ravishing good looks and the confident way he carries himself in the tailored suit he has on, it’s enough to make me want to take him right on this table, in full view of the hotel staff and anybody who might walk past.

“Are you up for lobster tonight, (Y/N)?”

The question startles me out of my inappropriate thoughts and I blink guiltily at Luhan, who’s gazing at me with an eyebrow raised and a knowing expression playing on his features. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips and he closes the menu, leaning forward. “Or are you up for me instead?” He whispers, shooting a wink at me across the table.

Under the cover of the table, I ease my foot out of my kitten heels (courtesy of Sehun, who insisted that they would complete my dangerous catwoman look) and stretch across to brush my foot against his leg lightly. The flirty action prompts a flicker of lust in his eyes, to which I rest my elbows on the tabletop and prop my chin on the palm of my hand, pursing my lips suggestively. “While lobster –and you- may sound really nice, I would like a banana split”, I state sweetly.

Luhan’s other eyebrow goes up as well, surprise crossing his face and replacing the earlier lust. “You want dessert now?”

“You know how they say that bananas cure depression?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I guess that’s why people eat cock”.

He bursts into laughter at my dick joke and the sight of his face in the midst of his giggles forces me to stifle my own snickers; Luhan may be the coldest, most cynical and most successful CEO and drug lord of the country but that doesn’t make him less human. He’s still Luhan, a boy at heart and one with an ugly laugh at that.

Jaw unhinged, mouth wide open and eyes screwed up adorably, he’s definitely a sight when he laughs. And a sight I wouldn’t trade for any of my other male clients in the world. So I capture the moment of happiness in my heart, tucking it away safely so that I can pull it out and recall the fond memory whenever I’m feeling down.

And just like that, I’m leaning across the table and kissing him softly on the lips.

Eventually, we end up in the hotel room he’d booked and I find myself demanding for him to keep his eyes shut until I’m done with changing my clothes in the bathroom.

“But why?” Luhan whines, placing his palms over his eyes as he sprawls on the king-sized bed. “Are you going to surprise me?”

“Of course. Don’t open your eyes until I’m done and I tell you to do so!” With that, I disappear into the en suite bathroom with my belongings and lock the door behind me. Dumping my bag on the toilet seat, I unzip it and yank it open, peeping in to see what Sehun packed for me.

The basic essentials stare up at me and a smile tugs at my lips. I must admit that Sehun has more knowledge about makeup and what turns men on better than I do. And I’m supposed to be the call-girl and the epitome of sensuality.

Placing the makeup by the sink, I strip off the fancy strapless dress I have on and unclasp my bra, shoving them deep into my bag. Following that, my fingers close around the lacy lingerie my best friend so kindly packed and I send a silent thank you to him for his undeniably good taste.

Wriggling into it with surprising ease, I send another silent gratitude to him for picking the most accurate size for my built. I’m on the small and petite side, which always make it difficult to find clothes that are not from the kids’ section so Sehun’s clothes-hunting skills are a gift sent from the heavens.

My hand wanders back into the bag, scrabbling around aimlessly for anymore surprises my best friend chucked in and I find myself pulling out a black headband with matching black satin cat ears. A grin stretches across my lips as I slip it on, admiring myself in the mirror above the sink. My reflection stares back at me, a perfect picture of feminine sensuality and sexiness. I’m everything a man wants, an artistic combination of playful and erotic.

And it’s all thanks to Sehun for listening to my babbling about being a ‘dangerous woman with cat ears’ and his amazing taste in lingerie.

A glint in the deep recesses of the bag catches my eye and I reach in to pull the item out, gazing at it with admiration as it twinkles in the glaring light of the bathroom. The handcuffs wink up at me and attached to it is a yellow Post-It note, reading, ‘Cuff him up and savour his taste, his flavour. You’re a taker and you’re a giver. Tease the fuck out of him, dangerous woman x’ in Sehun’s familiar scrawl.

Feeling encouraged, I peel off the Post-It and stuff it back into the bag, pocketing the handcuffs and moving on to the makeup waiting for me patiently by the sink. Uncapping the stick of ruby red lipstick, I slick a coat of it over my lips and set it back down on the sink top, studying my reflection carefully. Usually red lipstick would cause us call-girls to look trashy but surprisingly, this particular shade puts emphasis on my facial features and brings out the shape of my lips, giving me a sultry look. Again, I cannot thank Sehun enough for his good taste.

Giving myself a little smile for confidence, I pivot on my kitten heels and totter out of the bathroom, reaching up self-consciously to adjust my cat ears. Luhan looks up upon hearing the click of the bathroom door, his head propped up against the mountain of the pillows on the bed with his suit jacket already chucked over the nearby chair. Upon catching sight of me, his eyes darken with lust, tongue darting out to lick his lips greedily.

“Like what you see?” I pipe up eagerly, doing a little twirl in my heels to show off every inch of the lacy lingerie and how amazing my ass looks in the dim lighting of the room. I must admit that this is the best I’ve looked in ages, and the cat ears make everything even better.

Luhan gets off the bed, casually strolling across the room towards me with his hands stuffed in his pockets. In the warm lighting of the room, he looks even more handsome than usual; with the sleeves of his button-down shirt pushed up to his elbows and the little tent straining against his pants, it’s enough to make me want to pounce on him and fuck his brains out. But I control my urges, gazing at him sultrily from beneath hooded eyelids as he takes slow steps towards me, reaching out to grab me by the waist and pulling me against him.

“It’s impossible to not like it”, he croons in response to my earlier question, one mischievous hand inching its way down to my ass and giving it a little squeeze. “How’d you know that the cat ears drive me crazy?”

“Cat ears drive every man crazy”, I explain, flattening my palms against his chest and craning my neck to gaze up at him. Even in heels, I’m still a whole head shorter than he is, much to my chagrin.

“I’m not like every other man out there”, he points out, unable to resist reaching out to touch my satin cat ears curiously. His hard-on presses against the interior of my thigh and the promiscuous sensation of it against my bare skin sends sinful jolts of heat down to my aching core, prompting me to weave my hand down to his crotch and palm him through his pants excitedly.

“That’s bullshit”, I simper as a moan reverberates from him, his hips snapping forward and seeking for pleasure in my hand. “Every man wants a woman to be his little kitten, to belong to him and to savour his –and only his- taste for the night. Tell me, Mr Lu. Do you want that?”

As I speak, I grind my hips against his sensually, ensuring that my clothed womanhood circles round his growing erection tauntingly as my hand strokes him through the material of his pants. The breath hitches in his throat, his head falling back in pure bliss. “I want you”. His words come out as a needy whine, much to my satisfaction.

Taking that as a cue, I gently shove him back onto the bed, the two of us tumbling clumsily on it in a tangle of limbs as I pepper his face with lipsticked kisses, pulling bubbles of laughter from him. He squirms beneath me, running his hands down my torso delicately as he rakes his gaze down me appreciatively.

“You’re fucking art”, he whispers, as I tilt my head at a better angle to give his earlobe a playful little nibble, the tip of my tongue darting out to trace the bare skin around his ear stud. Then I pause, digesting his remark and I feel my face flush with pride, the seed of doubt in me shrivelling up and disappearing. Everything –the lingerie, the lipstick, the cat ears, the kitten heels- has paid off, thanks to Luhan’s observant nature. In all the years I’ve been sleeping with all kinds of men, hardly any of them took notice of whatever I was wearing as they were too preoccupied with wanting to take them off.

But with Luhan, I know I can always trust him to appreciate my foreplay and my edgy outfits. Everything –every outfit, every sex toy, every position in bed- I’ve tried and experimented with or on him, he’d always took it in stride and humoured me, appreciating my efforts to pleasure him in the weirdest and most interesting ways possible. And I’ve always received what I gave to him.

So now, while Luhan is distracted as I press my lips to his jawline and sighs blissfully as a result, I swiftly reach for his hands and pin them against the headboard above his head. His eyelids flutter open at the abrupt action, blinking up at me drowsily as I whip the handcuffs out from my pocket, holding it up for him to see. The metal glints in the warm lighting, leering at him mockingly.

Before he can react, the click of the cuffs resonate through the room as I attach his hands to the bedframe, curling my lips into a smirk as a disappointed expression spreads across his features at being tied down.

“Don’t look so down”, I say softly, pecking his lips lightly. “Just because you’re unable to touch me doesn’t make it less pleasurable”. As if to prove my point, I snap my hips forward so that my clothed womanhood grinds against his erection, to which he arches his back slightly with a soft but audible moan.

“Where’s the fun if I can’t touch you?” He mumbles breathlessly, sticking out his lower lip petulantly like a child. A giggle escapes me at his sulky reaction and I toss a wink down at him.

“Just trust me”, I quip confidently. “You’re in safe hands”.

“Well then. Put those hands to good use, kitten”.

Without further ado, my fingers proceed to undo the buttons on his shirt in an agonizingly slow manner, much to Luhan’s frustration and chagrin. But he says nothing, just watching me with hooded eyelids as I eventually undo the last button, allowing the material of the shirt to flap open and reveal his well-toned chest.

It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve feasted my eyes on his visual orgasm of a chest; the sight of it still sends spasms of heat pooling in the pit of my stomach and causes my mouth to salivate. Who the fuck ever said physical aspects don’t matter? They fucking matter.

Lowering my head, I press my lips against the bare skin of his chest, kissing a fiery trail down his torso. He reacts beautifully, his ragged breathing a symphony to my ears. Unable to hide my smile, I release the breath I’ve been holding in as my mouth glides its way down to his crotch, anticipation building up in both of us.

With steady fingers, I undo his belt and slide it out of the loops, meeting his eye as he studies my every move carefully, not wanting to miss a thing. His pants come off next, getting yanked off roughly and chucked on the carpeted floor carelessly in a puddle. There Luhan lies, completely and utterly vulnerable in his boxers and his ripped-open shirt, erection straining against the material of his boxers while his hands strain against the restraints of the cuffs.

This is the same man who runs the most successful drug company in China and Korea, the same man who is one of the most sought-after bachelors in the world, the same man who is a multi-millionaire businessman. And that successful CEO, bachelor and businessman is squirming beneath me at this very moment, nearly naked and whimpering desperately for me to please him. If only the world could see him now.

I lower my mouth over the tent in his boxers, teasing him with the tip of my tongue as I kitten-lick him through the thin material. He curses in Mandarin, to which I understand perfectly. “Fucking hell, (Y/N)”, he hisses, “stop teasing”.

“You don’t tell a dangerous woman what to do, Mr Lu”, I coo, slowly inching my mouth over his clothed erection and causing his hips to buck upwards automatically, seeking for the comfort of my mouth.

Luhan emits a sound of annoyance and frustration, twisting his wrists in the hold of the handcuffs. “Please?” He tries, his voice dwindling into desperation.

I pause, my lips still hovering over his erection temptingly. “Please what?” I murmur. Meeting his eye once more, I curl my fingers around the tent in his boxers and give him an encouraging squeeze, to which he attempts to stifle a whimper.

“Please suck me off”, he rasps, rocking his hips against my mouth for some friction against the tent in his boxers. “I need to feel your pretty little mouth around me”.

“Since you asked so nicely”, I muse aloud, hooking my fingers round the edge of his boxers and pulling them down to his ankles, “why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

His stiff cock springs into view, almost smacking me fresh across the face and I waste no time in taking his leaking tip into my mouth, my lips wrapping around it prettily. The salty tang of his pre-release explodes on my tongue, heightening all of my senses and I move on to take his entire length in my mouth slowly.

Luhan’s back arches off the bed beautifully, breathing heavily as I run my tongue over his shaft, utilizing my mouth to its fullest ability and slathering the entire length of his cock generously. A hoarse moan leaves his lips, lifting his hips to provide me with a better angle and I send him a silent gratitude for that by hallowing out my cheeks, providing as much friction as possible between my mouth and his cock.

As the seconds tick by, we develop a steady rhythm; his hips move in time to the bob of my head, his tip hitting the back of my throat gently. When he feels that I’m accustomed to the size, he increases the pace of his thrusts, feverishly fucking my mouth senseless as my hand drifts over his balls, giving them the attention they crave.

“Oh fuck, (Y/N), your mouth feels so good”, he growls, never pausing in his thrusts. The clanking of the handcuffs as he strains against them reverberates through the sex-filled air, and I allow my eyelids to flutter shut as my mouth works on his cock. Tears pool at the sides of my eyes but I brush them away, focusing on massaging his balls in perfect unison with the flicker of my tongue against his tip which all seem to drive him over the edge.

“Look at me, (Y/N)”, Luhan breathes, so I do. With my lips wrapped nicely around his thick cock, I gaze up at him through drowsy eyes, knowing at the back of my mind that I must be an erotic sight from his position. It’s like I’m almost drunk on his length, saliva pooling in my mouth and my cat ears lopsided. But he seems to love every second of it, judging from the glint in his lust-filled eyes and the way he runs the tip of his tongue over his lips, his hips snapping up to push his length as far back as I can manage.

A moan escapes me at the fulfilling sensation of his cock filling up every inch of my mouth, and Luhan instantly feels the vibration of it. Obviously relishing the feeling, he resumes the rhythm of thrusting provocatively into my mouth, to which I comply with by running my tongue over his shaft, the head and the tip. Combine that with my fingers working their magic on his balls and Luhan is plunged into an orgasmic daze, profanities leaving his lips with a vengeance.

The next thing I’m aware of is the explosion of salty release in my mouth and the ‘fuck’ Luhan utters out, my eyes never straying from his face as I watch satisfyingly at how his features contort with pleasure, head falling back against the pillows. I take it all in, swallowing every drop of his release happily and slowly withdrawing my mouth from his cock. Savouring the taste, the flavour.

He takes his time in coming down from his rollercoaster of an orgasm, panting hard and beads of perspiration dotting his forehead. While he gradually gets his breathing under control, I reach up and unlock the cuffs, releasing his wrists from their restraints. His arms flop by his sides limply, exhaling through pursed lips as he turns his head to the side to look at me.

In response, I bear an innocent grin, reaching up to adjust my cat ears again. “Was that okay?” I ask with faux bashfulness, batting my eyelashes up at him flirtatiously.

Luhan pushes himself up to a sitting position on his elbows, shooting me a sideways glance. “Are you kidding me? That was fucking amazing”, he gushes. “Now I’m jealous because every other man out there has probably gone through that mind-blowing experience of having your lips wrapped around their cocks”.

My confident exterior dents a little at that innocent remark and I swing my gaze away, hugging my knees to my chest. “Yeah, I guess”, I mumble tonelessly, trying my hardest not to think about the reality of my job. Sure, I’ve sucked plenty of dick in my life but it’s not –and will never be- the same as sucking Luhan’s. Not that I’ll ever tell him that to his face.

He notices the sudden shift in my attitude, raising one eyebrow worriedly. Without a word, he beckons me over and pats his bare lap reassuringly and I crawl over, straddling his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck. He rests his hands on my hips fleetingly, quirking up a comforting smile. “Hey now”, he coos, “don’t think so much. It’s just the two of us tonight, am I right?”

Pulling my lower lip in between my teeth, I lift my chin petulantly and nod feverishly, hoping that he doesn’t see the glinting tears in my eyes. “Yeah”, I say softly. “Just me and you”.

“Then just focus on us”, he advises patiently, reaching out to stroke my cat ears. “Like you said earlier, every man wants a woman to be his little kitten, for her to belong to him and only him. So be my kitten for tonight. Devote all your attention to me”. To lighten the mood, he reaches over and tweaks my nose cheekily, throwing in that oh-so-familiar grin of his.

I giggle at that, tilting my head suggestively. “You know, my theme tonight is supposed to be a dangerous woman. But apparently that went down the drain because dangerous women don’t cry in front of their clients”.

“Dangerous women have feelings too”, Luhan points out kindly. “It doesn’t make you any less dangerous. In fact, I’m actually in danger of asking for another blowjob”. We share a laugh at the pun, and he reveals his ugly laugh once more, causing happiness to bubble up in me. When we dwindle back into silence, Luhan runs his hands down my sides appreciatively, admiring the artistically crafted lace of my lingerie.

“You’re so beautiful”, he mutters beneath his breath, startling the both of us as we stare at each other, a crackle of something fizzling in the air. But then it’s gone, disappearing into nothingness as I hastily cover up the awkwardness by wriggling further into his lap.

“I would like a ride, Mr Lu”, I pipe up flirtatiously.

A smirk blooms on his face, and just like that, the raw feeling of his hard-on presses against my inner thigh once more. Grabbing me by the hips, he places his mouth near the shell of my ear, blowing against it gently and sending a breakout of goosebumps all the way down my neck. “Your ride is all ready for you, kitten”, he whispers.

My womanhood moans at his words, aching and burning for him. The heat curls up in me, growing and growing until the familiar wetness starts to soak through the thin material of my cute panties (again, courtesy of Sehun).

Sensing how my body has practically turned to putty in his hands, Luhan grabs the opportunity to assist me in wriggling out of my lingerie until I’m bare and vulnerably naked in front of him for the first time tonight. Not wanting to waste anymore time, I position myself in a way that my eager womanhood is directly above his equally eager cock and slowly but surely, I ease myself down on his length, gripping onto his shoulders tightly for support.

Luhan tenses beneath me as well, his fingernails digging into my bare hips and leaving little grooves in the sensitive skin as his length easily slides into me. My soaking folds accept him, and soon I’m rocking my hips back and forth feverishly, trying to get the right angle for his tip to brush against my sweet spot.

Between pants and grunts, Luhan thrusts his hips up to assist me, brows furrowed in sexual concentration as he works on giving me the pleasure my womanhood is dying for. The wanton sounds of skin slapping against skin just deepens our animalistic want and need for each other and soon, we’ve developed another rhythm, fucking each other to a beat only we can hear in our hearts.

I find myself bouncing on his cock, cat ears still intact on top of my head as we fuck each other to kingdom come. A cacophony of lewd noises leave our lips in such perfect harmony that it puts backup singers to shame, and I can’t help but keep my gaze fixated on the promiscuous sight of his glistening cock sliding in and out of my slick womanhood.

“Do you like this?” I rasp, relishing the way the ball of heat twists in my stomach, getting ready to release itself at any given moment. “Do you like the way I’m riding you, Mr Lu?”

Luhan groans in response, too far gone to even give me a coherent reply. Instead, all that leaves his lips is a flurry of whimpers and the occasional curse word as our hips slap against each other’s. Smirking at how helpless he is, I lean forward and brush my lips against his. “Something ‘bout you makes me feel like a dangerous woman”, I whisper seductively, watching with satisfaction as his features contort with pleasure at my words.

“You’re one fuck-able dangerous woman, that’s for sure”, he pants, tightening his grip on my hips as my folds start to clench around his length, a sure sign that I’m close. The ball of heat in me tightens into a knot, especially as his tip rams straight into my sweet spot, almost making me scream deliriously.

“I’m close”, I choke out, the pace of my hips slackening as I inch towards my orgasm. Luhan clings onto me, pushing his length in and out of me to substitute for my slackening pace and hitting that right spot every single time, throwing me into a blur of white as my womanhood tightens around him one last time.

Then the knot of heat in me unravels itself, propelling me to explode all over him, white strings of release spurting all over the sheets and his lap as I clutch his shoulders for support through my high. For the moment, I’m floating amongst the orgasmic clouds as Luhan fucks me through it. Then he follows suit, the both of us cursing out each other’s name as his warm release flows through me, filling me up in a way that has me wanting more.

It’s all over before I realize it, both of us crash-landing back in reality as the world spins back into focus. Panting and gasping, I roll over and bury myself in the safety of Luhan’s arms, tears trickling down my cheeks. He holds me close, burying his nose in my hair and knocking the cat ears right off my head. We lie in each other’s arms for a long time, not saying a word.

As usual, the moment Luhan dozes off and drifts into dreamland, I slither my way out of his arms and quietly gather up my clothes, slipping back into my dress I wore for dinner earlier this evening as I gather up my belongings and toss them back into the bag.

A glint at the corner of my eye catches my attention and I turn my head a fraction to see the bundle of hundred-dollar bills lying neatly on the nearby table. Reaching for it and slipping it safely into my pocket, I swing my bag over my shoulder and hesitate by the foot of the bed for a split second, observing as Luhan dozes on peacefully and obliviously without a care in the world. Without a second thought, I pad over to him and drop a soft kiss on his cheek. “See you next time, Mr Lu”, I whisper.

Then I turn and leave the hotel room without a backwards glance, the wad of cash in my pocket burning against my thigh as I make my way home.

Luhan never tells anybody about his dirty little secret. He doesn’t breathe a word about his late-night shenanigans with pretty call-girls, too egotistical to do so. But all the same, even after a night of fuck-fun with his source of release, he still returns to Lu Corporations without an inch of him out of place. Nobody ever has the slightest clue of what he gets up to in the ungodly hours of the night. And that’s the way he likes it.

So he returns to work and the cold reality of the business world, dealing with stupid clients and useless meetings even as the lingering thought of a particular call-girl plays in his mind, leaving him with the aftertaste of mind-blowing sex and a few precious moments of laughter with her. And as always, he waits until he feels like he can’t control himself anymore and simply picks up the phone to drop her a call once again.