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sugar-petals · 6 years

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bleeding hearts and happy days [m.]

❖ pairing. | dom!reader x sub!taehyung x sub!baekhyun

❖ summary. | you meet up with two escorts in an abandoned hotel room.

❖ a/n. | tumblr doesn’t like my sad horny shakespearean fic right here, this is a reupload. random parts of the story disappeared without a trace, so here we go again.

❖ word count. | 7.1k

❖ genre. | smut, angst, prostitution au, drama — starcrossed lovers

❖ warnings. | major character death implied, polyamory, threesome, bdsm, bondage, femdom, noona kink, cigarettes on skin, smoking kink, harnesses, ball gags, riding, pregnancy kink, crying, slapping, bruises, lace & mesh, tattoos, bj with teeth, lactation kink, aftercare, tae doms baekhyun briefly, hair-pulling, neck pain, spanking, unhealthy relationships, infertility, medication, alcohol, mentioned abuse, jealousy/rivalry, motorcycle accident

❖ masterlist

It’s so late that the reception is long closed. Nobody in this hotel bothers with anything, really. But he has Room 31′s rusty key and a little note with your name on it.

Determined to find the right corridor fast since his watch says he’s running late. Fifteen minutes past the usual time.

The client earlier had simply been a pain, but that’s just life. He moves on, takes the money. One bruise more or less won’t make him any more shattered at this point.

Finding the floor isn’t so difficult. As he suspected, the Incheon Royal is a small hotel indeed despite its big name.

Everyone knows the Royal's heyday has already passed.

It’s harder to tell from the outside because of the neighboring houses that blend into the building complex. All of them are ugly as shit. So Baekhyun would not spend too much time looking at them. He would rather rummage in his red bag to see if he didn’t forget anything.

He’d rather look at you, no matter how bitter-sweet the feeling in his chest is.

That’s why he agreed to do all of this in the first place.

31 is halfway posh judging by the door, but still quite a tiny spot in the very last corner of the house, first floor. Most of the lighting here is defunct, so he uses the brightness of his phone screen boasting a holiday picture from Osaka. He’s glad he got the keys. Knocking would feel so weird, you’ve never done this before.

Fucking each other in a hotel, that is.

You usually meet Baekhyun at his place, or the place as he always says. Which is cozy because he knows how to decorate it with lights and fabric. Who knows who taught him all that. His little space there is great. Unlike the shabby wall that welcomes him here in Room 31′s little hell. The door’s appearance has been deceptive enough. There’s no stench coming from somewhere dodgy in this apartment, gladly. But that’s a very low standard, isn’t it?

And who had the idea to rent this — Kim Taehyung, that handsome motherfucker.

Baekhyun promises himself to smoke five cigarettes later.

He turns to find you in the bathroom trying to detangle your hair after a busy day. The sixth album of The Doors is on repeat in the living room. It makes him hum to the beat, he’s heard it so often. You’re rolling down your stockings when he enters, laughing.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, this is—”

“Quite perfect, pretty messed up.”

And you’re certain about this. No other spot in the outskirts of Incheon City would be better. Taehyung is not as naïve as literally anyone at the place thinks.

“He booked it with good reason.”

“You sure?”

Baekhyun puts down the key, his bag, and joins you at the sink. He apologizes with three, four, five kisses that it took so long. His lips are chapped.

Every minute stolen hurts each time.

You tousle your hair a bit more.

He strips down and steps into the shower with only his lacy top on — because he knows you like it. It hides some scars, too, ones that he still feels shameful of. There are little roses and thorns embellishing the areas, it’s a lace pattern you haven’t seen on him yet. It’s new.

You’re glad that your money does find its way even if his debt eats it all up. He got himself a new motorcycle as well. Not the fanciest one, but it does the job. It’s parked behind the hotel, he says.

The shower is quick and shallow as not to smudge his makeup. There's already a silent arrangement, it’s your job to do that. He does sing, proud that he gets the more difficult notes right, and says that you don't have to bother with the brushes and combs. You know he'd have your head between your legs by now, but today's different.

Baekhyun continues to belt out more, whatever comes to his mind, and you can almost forget that it's Room 31 you're in.

You want to show him the towels when there’s a hastened knock on the door. He's huffing.

“The sucker's here!”

Baekhyun hurries outside the bathroom, leaving wet blotches all over the carpet on his way. Not that anybody in this hotel would care. Who knows when this carpet has been inspected for the last time.

You hear Taehyung’s agitated, happy voice alternate with Baekhyun’s scolding in the entrance room after the door creaks open. You think your hair won’t get any better no matter what you try anyways, and peek out of the bathroom door grinning.

“I like it here. It’s got antiques, they’re just really dusty.”

“See!” says Taehyung who currently leans an umbrella against the wall. “Knew she likes places like these.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. But he won’t say anything now. Taehyung pulls off his trenchcoat smiling. You point at his umbrella.

“It really rained?”

“Was just a quick shower, the weather isn’t bad. Did he have it worse?”

Taehyung cocks a brow up at still-wet Baekhyun.

“Washed up, you just interrupted. The question is, are you clean?”

“Cleaner than a senior getting naked for a client faster than it’s normal.”

Baekhyun bites down hard on his bottom lip. You pull both of them into the living room where the TV is on, showing Cher’s greatest hits or something. It’s just the music channel. Taehyung instantly starts swaying to the beat while Baekhyun remains stiff.

In any other case, he’d probably swallow it up and act like it’s nothing. Clients pay more for a threeway than when he just shows up solo.

But it’s you.

He has learned that he can be himself. Good and bad sides. The latter he has many of. Maybe more of. Taehyung would agree.

To be fair, Baekhyun bears the brunt of questionable clients at his place so you don’t resent him for it. You don’t know about Taehyung. He’s probably not seen the dark side of the business yet. It’s his second time with you and Baekhyun is joining.

In fact, Baekhyun first recommended him to you for an individual session.

Cher keeps on singing, almost taunting while Taehyung flings his mesh jacket to the side and gets into position. You’ve thought a long time about how you’d do all of this, but you got the details down. And everyone agreed. Baekhyun never hesitated.

“Baek, can you pass me the bag?” Taehyung wriggles on the tacky sofa.

“Hey, uppity. It’s not yours. I’ll do that.”

And Baekhyun goes to get the bag and a towel to dry up a bit. The lace top sticks to his chest like a second skin. You can see how he moves his torso differently because he wants to show it off to you.

He returns with two ropes, two polished red ball gags.

Taehyung actually does stay perfectly still when Baekhyun starts making his usual chest harness. Loop here, strap there. It’s astounding how much more serious he is when Taehyung is with him.

You’d pay the world for them, even if Baekhyun once said he’d do it for free because he loves you. He had one bottle too much back then.

Cher switches to Barbra Streisand.

Taehyung grins weirdly once the gag is in place, provoking your smile. He knows he fucked you so good last time that you figured two times the bliss was a good idea. He still has a bruise that's rather colorful.

You proceed to fixate Baekhyun in a similar bondage style. It only takes a bit longer. His hair has dried up a fair bit; the spikes of his bangs almost get into his eyes.

He whispers once you have to bend down closely next to his head.

“Missed it too much. Y/N. They fucked me up.”

You suppress an urge to cry by pulling the rope tighter than usual where you would keep it deliberately loose. All the frustration in the world goes into this one rope. Maybe if you knot him up extra hard, he’ll forget about the days when it’s not you screwing him at the place but another oily, bearded scumbag peeing on him or some priss with gnawed off nails.

“No condoms, as usual?”

He always asks without failure, no matter how often he’s said it. It must have been a hundred times. Your answer is always the same, too.

“Wish something could actually grow in there.”

It’s never easy to say. But the look that follows in Baekhyun’s eyes has never ceased to gleam.

“Don’t you ever worry about it, Noona.”

You can’t reply for long.

“And him?” is all that comes out.

“Taehyung’s tested as well, doc came in on Friday. Seokjin can be strict on us if he really wants it. He can’t risk losing another regular.”

Seokjin, head of the place. You do like him, much more than the majority of other boys that Baekhyun sometimes has to recruit. Taehyung being one of them was a stroke of luck. You still prefer to ride Baekhyun for the night, and have the rope do its job.

But Taehyung does look beautiful tonight with his glossy lips and shiny red pants. When he peels them off, even failing to get it right once or twice, the feeling in your chest is less numb.

Baekhyun's tense, but hard enough for you to slip down on. It’s less than graceful, but you do manage somehow, fingers intertwined with the harness. The pace is raw. You're not wet enough, and he can't get it upright completely. Today’s different.

It's too much effort. Taehyung mires with big eyes and groans away when you bring Baekhyun alive with a couple thrusts. Harder than usual. Little goosebumps loom under the cover of his lace top. Taehyung’s still moaning and grinding, trying to get some friction from the rope that would lend the pleasure he is longing for. But it only hurts. That’ll do, too.

Whatever body spritz Baekhyun is always using, now that it’s gone you can smell the real him. Any shower in the world could not clean him from the way people have treated him for a few dimes, but he’s happy knowing you like his scent as it is.

It’s very sweet naturally, not rich and balmy like any perfume in his collection, nor dusty and rosy and all sandalwood, whatever they use to make it smell really thick. He’s just Baekhyun how you adore him. Vulnerable. Bound underneath you, breath so heavy, inside of you at the mercy of your hips.

A slap to the cheek only makes him harder. Taehyung struggles next to you trying to touch himself.

“Selfish boys get two.”

And you slap Taehyung twice. Three times for good measure. So strong, your own palm hurts. Even if he shakes from the impact, he still scrambles for more and tries to reach his cock. You spit on his face and turn to focus on Baekhyun again, leaving Taehyung red and sulking, even more eager.

You know exactly who taught him how to be so insatiable.

It’s easy to peel off the lacey hem at Baekhyun’s abdomen. You didn’t use too much rope to cover the area. It’s deliberate. Between your fingers blooms the tattoo that he got for your anniversary. The day has been kept secret, although people knew Baekhyun went to the parlor in a more lofty part of town.

It's a fragile stem with a row of bleeding hearts. Some opened, some still buds.

The ink’s crimson color is more vibrant than ever. How he smells like could very well be the scent of flowers, or at least you imagine it to be like that.

The tattoo marks the spot where Baekhyun is the most sensitive. It’s not enough to bounce hard on his cock until he thinks you’ll rip his foreskin right off, it’s not enough to tighten around him, making feel he suffocates just by that.

No, only the bleeding hearts make a difference.

“Who are you to me?” you say, and face the truth looking into his eyes.

“I’m your, your bitch.”

“And what does a bitch do?”

“Give you the best seed I have.”

“Then breed me good, bitch!”

Your thumbs circle in to stroke the tattoo. Not much is needed until he chews on his lip again. Baekhyun's skin is so soft in that spot, you think he went out of the way not shaving it to keep a few of his thin little hairs there.

The blood pressure pops a vein or two in his eyes when you shove your fingers into his mouth and half down his throat. He’s coughing. You keep your hips still for Baekhyun to shoot you up with his dripping release, and continue to bounce taking all the hot cum deeper.

Whenever he stopped counting the positions you tried, you gave up wanting to make it all stay inside.

Taehyung’s gonna sneer over how everyone knows it anyways.

That you’re creaming Baekhyun’s dick without protection every time, and probably have fifteen of his samples in your gyno’s basement freezer. Or your own. He once joked that you’re probably mixing it with a milkshake every morning just to be sure. He knows it tastes good.

When Baekhyun’s semen comes dripping out, you free Taehyung from his ball gag hoping something good and uplifting would come out of his mouth.

“Ever tried using his tears instead, Y/N?”

You were wrong.

The ball gag goes back. You cover the tattoo while Baekhyun’s chest finds its normal rhythm again. As an only solace, the moldy air in the hotel room is now tinted with Baekhyun’s sweat through and through. You say the words as you always do without exception.

“You’ll be my baby father so soon. We’ll be lucky this time.”

“Am all yours.”

Taehyung just sighs, wriggling more again.

"Cheesy fucks can't help it."

Click. Click, click. The lighter has been used so often, you need to give it a go three times until the flame remains standing.

They don’t bother. The hotel. Who knows if they have ever seen the day that the smoking ban was announced back in, well. Many, many years ago. Baekhyun’s jacket had left you with a vast variety to pick from.

And so, he smokes. No hands, you’re the one to tap off the ashes on Taehyung’s chest. In the hopes that it will leave some painful traces. Taehyung hates being a rookie. If there’s something that brings in cash, it’s that he’s experienced and it shows.

Even if he winces every time, or a tear comes from the corner of his eye, he doesn’t make a single noise. His cock stays down, what else would it do, he’s getting burned alive. Baekhyun smiles with the cigarette between his teeth, inhaling a bit deeper each time. The smoke mingles at the ceiling where a broken chandelier dangles back and forth.

He knows how much it hurts, you’ve done it to him twice. Or maybe three times because you’ve asked to do it again. Of course, Taehyung has seen what refused to heal on Baekhyun’s arms and shoulders for weeks. Maybe in the showers. He got jealous, that’s all you know.

“Thighs? Looks empty on there.”

You flick the cigarette from Baekhyun’s mouth again. Taehyung nods, but regrets the decision when you stub the glowing end right in the middle of the curved leg. It’s the spot where he takes care to wax the most. He’s crying, and Baekhyun laughs again.

“Now you’ve got what you wanted. That’ll stay,” he says.

Taehyung opens his mouth for the first time to speak through the tears. The gag leaves its place. The glossy lips part, more demure than ever.

“Thank you, N— noona!”

You reply pinching at Taehyung's loins. The cigarette is back between Baekhyun’s teeth.

“That's what got your dick up, didn’t it.”

Taehyung can only mouth a little Yes. He exhales, averts his gaze. No more eye contact. Just a whimper. You know it's Baekhyun who taught him that.

The cigarette smoke is denser now that you dedicate all of your attention to Taehyung. The grip on his shaft is harder than the first time he came to you. When you thought he'd be so fragile, being new to the game. But you found out he can take a whole lot. Much more than Baekhyun if you’re being honest about it.

Your clit is where the tip of his cock belongs, and where it is abused. Rubbing it, poking it, sliding it back and forth reckless abandon. Smearing Baekhyun’s cum all over the place until it feels all grimy and cold, making its way down your inner thighs. They both observe it drip, and things get hazy in the smoke.

Your fingers give Taehyung tough love in another tight seize so no pre-cum dares to peak out. It’s only until you shake him back and forth that it gets to a level where you feel at least some stimulation. Pressing him against your clit feeling how he trembles from the friction. His little noises amuse you each time.

More whimpers. You continue with a firm hold on his shaft, hoping to find out how far he can please you. He’s getting a taste of what it’s like when you grow your nails out. And shake him more. The feeling becomes stronger. Maybe he can satisfy you today. Work’s been tough, it's deeply needed.

You take a deep breath to inhale the cloud of nicotine that’s been building all around, and ride the wave it brings. Baekhyun will get you hooked on these, fuck him. But you’re breathing it with Taehyung’s dick grazing between your legs.

It's providing at least a bit of heat now that you've gone cold. Making you feel something Baekhyun increasingly won’t manage to fulfill. Well, unless he keeps whispering “I’ll knock you up, mommy” with his cock balls deep up your ass. Because by now, you both believe it’s likelier that you get pregnant this way. Taehyung on the other hand just has to mumble anything to turn you on. His voice is so raspy and deep. Everything about his body feels vital, and voluptuous, so pretty, so fertile.

Baekhyun knows that.

And if that’s what will get you going, he’ll watch like this.

With you cumming all over Taehyung’s cock. It’s such a beautiful icing. The relief is not only physical, but mental. You still chafe him across your labia with no end in sight, because those are the seconds you pay for that Baekhyun can’t give you. Taehyung is glad to be so hard, otherwise he’d break like a straw. You love how thick his girth grows, it likes your hands and their pressure, and you coating him with a fresh creamy glaze.

If Baekhyun is your bitch, Taehyung is your personal joystick to drip on.

You don’t pay him as well as you would like to, but he’s ridiculously cheap. Seokjin won’t let him take tips unless he fucked his way up, it’s how it is. He’s not made a name for himself yet, but the orgasms he gives you leave a special feeling for countless minutes after. It’s probably how much cash Baekhyun makes that causes Taehyung to work so much harder. You can see it in his eyes. But if all goes well, he won’t get money to clear a dozen figures debt like Baekhyun does. That’s what keeps him going. Or maybe he just has a magic dick.

Baekhyun knows the answer. He’d pay Taehyung to get you off himself if only Seokjin allowed it. But, as far as you know, the place has plenty of rules.

Baekhyun can’t stop grinning, but you don’t. Your high faded when he ogled the pack of cigarettes again. There are only few of them left inside, all in shambles.

“Your lungs are tar black already. Before your heart is...”

A few last puffs swirl to the ceiling when you take the cigarette to the center glass table where it fades out. The smell still lingers. You return to flip him around on the spot. A series of firm slaps find their way to Baekhyun’s ass. Every strike buries him deeper in the pillows face down.

“That’s for laughing. If someone laughs, it’s me. Did you get that, babe?”

“I apologize!”

“Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t!”

“His pain is mine to enjoy. Not yours.”

Another smack.

“I promise, I won’t do it again, Noona, please! I won't!”

“Taehyung even said thank you. When will you ever say that, bitch?”

“You know I’ll never be ungrateful, you know it.”

"Mean it, baby?"

"Really do."

Baekhyun is crying. With a bright red ass and makeup completely smudged into the pillow. These are possibly the only two things he has not given up being vain about, and you love ruining them. At the end of the day, it’s what he finds enjoyable about his profession. You’re the only one who is allowed to do it, after all.

“Been a while since I could see you blush. Not just in the face,” you poke his left buttcheek, eliciting a little sniff. “Pity that you cake it on, you always have to cry for me to get that shit off.”

You get to loosen up Taehyung’s rope now. It left deep traces, but it looks good on him.

“The day he wears no makeup is the day he dies,” Taehyung twirls at Baekhyun’s hair, and they both have to smile through the tears.

“At least he’s self-aware,” you drag up the lithe body from the pillow to cry at your chest. You’ve got a white shirt on, but who cares. “Why not cry a bit more for me, baby?”

And maybe Taehyung was right with tears.

Baekhyun has a hard time swallowing up Taehyung’s cock the way you want it. Every tug and shove at the back of his head makes him want to throw up more. All over the place like a decoration for Taehyung’s abdomen, but there’s nothing in his stomach that could possibly come up beside some bitter pulp and a pill. But he keeps on shoving himself down to the rhythm dictated by your hand in his hair, and hopes for the best.

Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke today.

Who knows how often he’s done that. Maybe it’s the only thing his throat is ever useful for. If he's fucked up, he's vivid. Talk's worthless, there is no sense in it. Throwing up on someone's balls at least makes him feel that there's still a bit of life somewhere in his gut. But he'd rather keep it down for the sake of the other.

Food he’s given up on. But if he’s fed cock by you, maybe he feels better about himself. With a little practice, Taehyung is good breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He’ll consider blowing him some other time, maybe with a camera and client involved for some extra cash. Nothing’s for free. Gagging and taking it on the face gets him a bonus, too. Deepthroat is where the money is.

The pain at the back of his neck won’t be getting any better, but his tongue can’t complain. Taehyung did clean himself up just like he said. He could make it far, further than Baekhyun himself, with a huge waiting list at the place. But one thing he can’t do is choke so violently like this. One day, Taehyung might learn even that. A fast learner, isn't he? Yet as long as he gets a cock big enough rammed into his skull on the daily, Baekhyun's the best out there, and the worst in its best sense. If his brain comes out one day, he won't complain either. One less thing to worry about.

Bitches are dumb, that's what they are. Dumb as fuck. They give their mistress good semen instead. And get over neck pain.

The pace is vile. He knows that your arm won’t give up thrusting him down anytime soon. Baekhyun imagines how it must be like having your eyes. How it would be like to see it. Him trying to handle Taehyung’s dick with just a small mouth, good cheeks, no teeth, and a little courage. Gagging and drooling spit all over the place and half unconscious because it’s so good. You love his glossy eyes. They’re always so gorgeous. Baekhyun must be the most beautiful boy in the whole world when he does that. But he's too fast stuffing himself.

Of course, he throws up. Who wouldn’t, you have both of your index fingers hooked inside the corners of his mouth to keep him open wide, and Taehyung just keeps on thrusting his hips upward. The bitter taste alone makes Baekhyun vomit again, this time on the carpet. He’s so dizzy. He needs more cock to feel full and healthy again. You want to give him a minute, but he’s faster than that. Though less swift than Taehyung who knows that once Baekhyun’s stomach is already empty, he can pound away and fully destroy him. But both of them have to obey your pacing.

And this time, your tugging at Baekhyun’s hair is slow and gentle. So Taehyung follows that, too. Baekhyun’s lips look blurry, so crimson all around, and you make sure to hold his head down entirely to swallow Taehyung’s balls. Fucking his neck up entirely so his next client will be desperate in trying to use it, and failing. It's the only way he'll ever be yours. Taehyung's balls inside of him or not.

As far as he can judge with the bitterness in his mouth, they do taste good. Hallelujah, what a day. It’s just that his throat can only handle so many, and cracked lips are hell on earth. Gladly Taehyung has brittle stamina, especially because it’s Mister tightest throat alive sucking him off. At least that’s how the other boys call Baekhyun at the place. He keeps on sucking with that in mind, but the tug at his hair leaves no room for contemplation, nor does Taehyung's growling.

You've heard it before. It's so needy, but deeply hurt. Baekhyun bites down on him at the tap of your finger on his little wrist. The signal.

Taehyung blows up all messy and sticky until it drops out of Baekhyun’s nose. It's less bitter. How long did he have blue balls? It must have been more than an hour. You do the signal again for Baekhyun to unclench his jaw and bob his head again, to get at least a bit of Taehyung’s semen down. Because ultimately, the more you make him move, the more he has to cough and swallow. Breathing is hard now, but he’ll manage for the remaining seconds until you let go of his hair. He gags down the rest, even with vomit. His eyes are empty, but his cheeks glow.

“My baby did amazing.”

You wipe your sleeve at his nose. It wets almost immediately. Baekhyun sniffs and declines the sleeve, which you retreat. He's exhausted.

At least he doesn't do coke. He does cum.

Baekhyun pops off scrambling at your t-shirt almost immediately, and you curse yourself for not getting rid of it earlier. Even if Taehyung and literally anybody else at the place thinks it’s a little bit silly despite it being so standard, Baekhyun loves to suck your tits to calm himself down. For half an hour, well if he can, attaching to one breast at a time with both hands and his rosebud mouth. If they’d give him even one drop of milk, he would swim the entirety of the Pacific and back to drink it.

Taehyung giggles along while you pull off your shirt and have a clumsy go at it — Baekhyun’s too dizzy still, so he misses the mark as it usually happens. Although Taehyung is easily shushed, it still feels awkward. So you ask him to join. They alternate between sucking and kissing each other, having Taehyung taste his own cum and lubricating Baekhyun’s lips with it. What’s all over the carpet doesn’t really matter. It’s just the smell that makes you want to switch rooms. It’s all over Taehyung, too. So you decide to have the boys finish quite early into today's new fourty minute goal, suavely parting from your breast. The side where Baekhyun had led feels like it was about to tinge, but then again, just leaves a tense aureola for once. Next time, you ponder, would be a good time to admonish him. It's not like sucking dick where you get more for the heavier sucks. It's like love where there is a fine line between trying too hard and doing it just right.

The cubicle of the shower is calcified and rustier than the key to the apartment itself, nor do three people really fit inside the entire construction to begin with. But the showerhead works, so you use that one to get at least a bit of water rain down, and manage to get the grime off the boys and your breasts. Taehyung looks happy when you use too much soap on him, and tries to mess with Baekhyun’s hair so it’ll stand up vertically. With limited success, but Baekhyun is at least trying to retaliate getting Taehyung’s bubbly hair in a mess.

He’s not as sleepy as he usually is, which turns out to be a good sign as you think of it. Baekhyun has probably been rejecting one or two late-night clients recently. He never used to do that. For the sake of his rep, his wallet, his peace of mind because his perfectionism wouldn’t let him off the hook to have a good night’s sleep instead. But he’s not been busy so often in the last three weeks, you can tell by his social media updates and his texts. It’s rare that he gets a break or has the financial backing for it. Then again, it’s only been two clients or so. The ones who’d rather make him unable to go on working, so it would be counterproductive to spread his legs for them. Or maybe it was just Seokjin who made him take a day off out of necessity.

“You stole three of my clients!” Baekhyun goes on shoving water into Taehyung’s direction. “This is what you get for it!”

And there it is. You were wrong again.

“Can’t help being popular,” Taehyung replies ever so nonchalantly by taking the showerhead from you and spritzing Baehyun down head to toe until all the soapy mess is gone. “Clients aren’t deaf to house gossip, they pick new favorites each week.”

You snatch the showerhead back from the braggart and turn it in his direction at full blast. He ends up squealing and dancing in circles to avoid the water where it goes, but soon falls into Baekhyun’s arms because the shower floor is too slippery. Baekhyun flinches a bit when Taehyung rubs against him by accident.

"The tattoo?" Taehyung asks. You rummage with the soap again.

"Never had a day where it didn't feel sensitive," Baekhyun says.

"I want something like that, too, Noona!"

"Tae, you don't have a weak spot as far as I know."

"Really?"

"At least to this degree."

"What was getting it done like?"

"He fainted outside the parlor."

"No way!"

"He didn't drink and eat enough that day and it was boiling hot. The pain was only pulling the trigger on him."

You turn off the showerhead and towel down Baekhyun — save his face of course. He clings to the rest of what’s on there come fire or high water.

Before you can dry up Taehyung, the power is down in the hotel. Only the street lights illuminate the bathroom where you go by their silhouettes to finish up. You can’t tell whether it’s Taehyung, Baekhyun, or both kissing you quick in the dark. It's wet, it's cold, everything spins. A bad feeling in your gut lingers past their sloppy mouths that the night is over, and you're nowhere near the same as before. None of you is.

By the time Taehyung gets his phone to lighten up the hallway, power is back.

“I put some beetroot in the fridge. Go get yourself a slice or two, baby.”

Baekhyun shuffles into the corner, takes a tablecloth to open the fridge because the handle is crusty and yellow. The inside it halfway clean, especially since you put some plates in there earlier. And beetroot. It’s one of the few things he actually likes. It tastes disgusting, leaves red and violet blotches everywhere, and won’t ever make him full. That’s precisely why he likes it. You buy it because of whatever vitamins it has. Taehyung just thinks its weird and sometimes leaves cookies in the hallway for Baekhyun to chew on after he took two clients or so.

“There’s noodles, too. From Mr. Kim’s delivery. If you eat half of it, maybe mommy gives you a kiss on the forehead.”

You’re half joking. Or maybe not. Baekhyun considers the plate at least, removes the wrap, and smells at it. He picks up a fork wordlessly and stirs the meal. Since he doesn’t like being watched while eating, you and Taehyung sit down in the other room to have some chicken. The door in between is shut not to distract him with the smell. You do hear the fridge open and close two times while eating with Taehyung.

He says you did a good job. His chest still hurts. And Baekhyun really bit down hard blowing him so he can still feel it. His Friday clients will appreciate how it'll look like. He’s gonna have his asshole ravaged so hard, some unnerved doc has to stitch it back in. But now’s not the time to think about it. The chicken is delicious and you look so beautiful. He could get used to this. One day he might even have enough money to buy you some elaborate seafood dish from the luxury restaurant opposite to Mr. Kim. Be a good boy to you, get a big tip and a nice fuck. Life could be a dream and chicken is a splendid glimpse of it.

After more rummaging noises in the kitchen, Baekhyun returns with a little soy sauce showing around his mouth. He looks so downcast. You ask how he feels.

"You already know," he mumbles.

"Baby, sometimes even I can't read your mind."

"Hm."

"If you don't want to say it, that's okay."

"Noona..."

"Yes?"

He slumps down next to you, having the corners of his mouth wiped by Taehyung, who also wants to poke his cheeks but retreats his hands when Baekhyun doesn't react.

“Am just an A-class whore," he rubs his neck. "With nowhere to belong. Not worth a dick or dime.”

His voice is hoarse. You kiss his shoulders where the rope wasn't too tense.

“No, you’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

“I—”

“You belong here,” you lay your palm flat on your lap. Then below your chest where the heart is, “here. And here.” You finally place Baekhyun’s little hand at your forehead. “You already know you’re in there all the time, fucker. I'm thinking of you.”

“Some days I...”

“Hush, no more. Off with you to get some sleep.”

"Are you satisfied, Noona?"

"More than words can say. Now, come."

Taehyung guides Baekhyun into the corridor by the hand, checking his own rope marks before covering up. They have half faded, but the ones at his hip remain prominent and still burn a bit too much. Taehyung mumbles something about "cream later" and stuffs his top into the hem of his trousers. Baekhyun says that there's some stuff in his bag to mend it, but Taehyung declines.

“Well look at your makeup,” he coos and wipes down Baekhyun’s cheeks as if he didn’t see him cry.

It’s mostly sweat, isn’t it.

“Hotel Room service got a job tomorrow,” Baekhyun fastens his belt.

“It would be a surprise if that’s even a thing here. I thought you looked around?” you twinkle at him.

“I only see you.”

Taehyung huffs at that with an eye roll, phone out to text Seokjin. He gets a fast reply. He does watch out for his darlings every way, doesn’t he. You’ve met him countless times, he always does your bookings, too. You're sure he'll take care of Baekhyun tonight so he can sleep well.

“You don’t go home?” Taehyung blinks at you.

“I’m staying overnight, it’s convenient. Namjoon arranged a meeting with the team in the city centre tomorrow, just a five-minute walk so I don’t have to commute.”

“At least don’t sleep close to one of these dusty moldy things, Noona,” Baekhyun mumbles.

He nods his head in the direction of the almost decomposing stereo where The Doors are still playing.

“Says my baby hypocrite who’s gonna chain-smoke two packs when he’s out the door.”

You kiss him on the nose. It’s tender.

“Three if I can,” he smiles.

“Ugh, just go and pull a Shakespeare,” Taehyung snorts. He takes his umbrella and shakes it dry. “He’d spew some better jizz without the cigs anyway. That's why your eggs are done for, too. Fucking passive smokers complaining.”

But Baekhyun already picks up the red bag. He’s got the little note with your name on it tucked in at the side. It’s still from the first time you came to him. He did his best to keep any crease out of it. Taehyung looks down realizing that neither of you will talk about it, closing his trench coat. You kiss his forehead and make a silent promise to yourself to invite him again sometime, in a better hotel than this one.

A less pretty messed up place.

Wet drops from the umbrella are the last thing lingering on the carpet when you hear their voices blur in the distance of the corridor. Baekhyun pops a pill before turning the key in at the reception by placing it on its little bronze hook between Room 30 and 32.

Taehyung says he’ll take the car to pick up some groceries at the other end of the main street, and going to Mr. Kim’s to stock up. In the dim light of the backyard, they say goodbye and Baekhyun fastens his leather jacket. He gets out his gloves climbing the motorcycle parked in the corner with a deep exhale. Everything hurts. His ass feels like it could fall apart any second just sitting. All the dirty makeup has come off entirely by now judging by the tired reflection of the side mirror. His lace top is sticky against his chest underneath the jacket already. It’s cold sweat dripping down to his abdomen. The hearts are truly bleeding now.

Epilogue: Osaka

All of the streets are empty like his mind. He’ll get fucked up with another bottle later while Taehyung appeases some late-night clients. Probably by charming the bouncer a bit more than usual and telling him that Baekhyun took a lot of pills. Which won't be a lie. Your next time is already scheduled. Until then, Baekhyun hopes nobody finds drugs in the wrong spot or they let minors in by chance and the press picks up on it. The place is just too corrupt to prevail for a long time either way. Maybe he can move in with you next year if he isn’t done for by then. Enjoy a July afternoon in Seoul downtown, an iced coffee, an evening on the terrace opposite Mr. Kim's where there's live music. Pay the bills because it’s romantic. Pay the taxes because it's what a good citizen does. Quit smoking, retire from the place and earn money elsewhere. Eat healthy and get a proper sample for the fridge. Prepare to be a good father if you’re lucky that time. Be less deadbeat and more alive. Forget about everything. Maybe one day you’ll have fucked him so much, you pretty much bought him whole and he’s free. No debt left, no memories. That's why he hates to eat, it puts him as far away from that state of mind as possible: An everlasting blank slate. The final solace that never really came.

Recently, he has been wondering if that time ever comes. He coughs up blood, he can’t sleep, his lungs are so tense when breathing. Only more smoking can ease the pain, right? He’s so stupid. A bright red Friday circle brightens up his calendar in three weeks, that’s good news. Around the hours when you plan coming home from work. You’ll be meeting in your flat for the first time. There will be coffee, not iced, but not any more bottles and power down every two hours. Seokjin agreed he can go there as long as he does what he’s supposed to do, and brings back the money he’s supposed to get. But three weeks are a long time. Those are many clients out the door with his dignity on the line, and how many missed meals just to have a waist more lithe, how many hours of being wide awake? He doesn’t care. Been there, done that.

It’s almost spring, which means you’ll travel back to Osaka together. Watch the cherry blossoms, visit the temples. Send Taehyung cute postcards the old-fashioned way even if the stamps are expensive. Kiss and pose for selfies because it’s a better life together. And never touch nicotine again before his insides fade to black. Blot and blur. Much like the road, the street lights. They're on the brink of day, but melting past his eyes like a spiraling void. Baekhyun's so cold, it's not just the lace top. Nothing feels meaningful anymore when he imagines the future, and he's content. There's nothing of importance in this moment except that. The road of life carries on whether he follows it or not. The street lights warp into a pulsating vortex, it's a heartbeat. Everything he likes about you passes before his eye. The way you carry yourself. How you put a little heart at the bottom of the note, and told him he's handsome. The habit you have, getting up at 5:30 am to send him a text if the shift was okay. How you smile and make everything a little better. Everything feels liberated when he thinks about it. It's a feeling taking over each and every limb, the sweetest anesthesia. Maybe you can be his blank slate. Close the vortex once and for all. He doesn't hit the breaks for the turn the alley ahead, he just falls. It doesn't matter. Baekhyun is sure about it, and that's the only bit of peace he can ever have. You would have been happy one day. So, so happy.

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