#thorn in his side (aaron/talon)

[late-night-cabaret]

Things have been rough. Aaron's not sure how he's still holding everything together. It constantly feels like one wrong move, one tiny stumble, and everything will come crashing down.

His job keeps him... housed. At least. Most months, anyways. His piece of shit landlord keeps jacking up the rent, and his ex fucked off somewhere, leaving him hanging with the lease.

(He probably deserved it. He was not a very good partner.)

Tonight was shit. Aaron had already been feeling unwell, the kind of unwell that had led to him getting thrown out onto the streets, and one of the patrons had gotten too clingy in the private room, and the next thing he knew the guy was unconscious and bleeding, and his knuckles were split open.

This wouldn't have been a problem, really, if it weren't for the fact that this was not the first time it happened. Being known for lying wouldn't help his case, either.

He's called into the office. That's never good. He hugs himself and goes in under Hank's fucking judgmental-ass stare. Fuck him, anyways. Standing in front of the desk, he glares at the top of it, heart racing in his throat and stomach twisting.

Yancy isn't always at The Grind. He's a busy man. He owns half a dozen other businesses (the legitimate ones), and he has shit to do. He's been at The Grind more lately, and the reason for that is fucking standing in front of his desk.

And he can't even look Yancy in the eye. It's as aggravating as it is pleasing in its own way.

He's just come from a meeting, dressed in a burgundy suit, black tie loosened so the blood pulsing in his neck has somewhere to go. He lets Aaron stand there in silence for a moment, like a dog that knows it wasn't supposed to get into the trash and still couldn't fucking help itself.

Then, a tablet is being pushed into Aaron's field of vision on the desk. Video of the incident plays, captured by one of the cameras in the ceiling.

"Got anythin' to say for yerself?" He asks, and it's calm. Way too calm.

[late-night-cabaret]

Aaron has everything he wants to say planned out in his head. Which is probably more planning than he has ever done in his life, for anything.

He wants to face Yancy, to confront him about the other night. Maybe if he does that, then he'll stop feeling weird whenever the man is around. Shit, the sight of his door is enough to make Aaron lightheaded, heart racing, and he hates it. He knows he's getting a weird look from Hank, just standing in front of the office. Fuck him. What does he ever do, anyways?

The new outfit he got himself is even more revealing than the others, which is good, although it also bears the disadvantage of needing help to be fully put on. Merrick has been... helpful. Suspiciously so.

A part of him can kind of understand being more cordial when you're not constantly being verbally attacked. But he's never going to admit that.

Aaron has to do this. He feels like he's losing his fucking mind. Anytime he finds himself with even a second to spare, he finds himself thinking of that night, the way Yancy had spoken to him, the way he had grabbed him, used him—

The moment he knocks and steps into the office, he feels like he's made a huge mistake. He feels too exposed already. Why didn't he change first? He's so fucking dumb. Just being back here is catapulting him back, seeing the room, the desk. Yancy.

The man never looks pleased, especially when Aaron's involved. It makes him feel inadequate, and he fucking hates that he craves his validation, specifically, so damn much. Refuses to admit he's fucking jealous of the others. And now, he's not sure if the urge to confront Yancy was about revenge, or about getting confirmation that he's been good.

Because he has. He hasn't gotten into any trouble, he hasn't mouthed off, he hasn't taken anything. He's left everyone alone, even when some of them took the opportunity to get their petty little revenges in. Despite appearances, Aaron's tough. He's lived through a lot. A few jabs and bumps won't bother him.

"I—" His words die out the moment he realizes he can't focus on anything. Just being in the same spot where he'd been before is enough to make his throat ache, to make his head feel clouded, like he's trying to think while having heatstroke.

Little whore. Why does he want more of that? Why can't he think past the way Yancy'd treated him? Instead of anger, all he finds in himself at this point is the wish to do better, to get his boss to acknowledge him in any way. He falls to his knees, frame trembling, and he looks at Yancy with dark eyes.

"I— please..." Aaron's not even sure what he's begging for, or why. Use him, hurt him, yell at him, anything, someone, please just pay attention to him. Fuck, he's crying again, he's so fucking desperate. "Let— Let me—"

Let me please you, sir.

When Yancy calls for whoever is knocking to enter, the last person he's expecting to see is Aaron. And yet the only sign he gives to show he's even a little interested in him being there is a raised eyebrow.

He's been keeping tabs on him, at least here and there. He reviews camera footage of the main floor when needed. And yeah, after Merrick showed up and busted his balls about it, he went back and watched Aaron try to function that night. He should've gone home.

But then, he noticed something else, too. The way Aaron would sometimes just stop and watch his office door like he was expecting him to burst out of it at any moment. Even on nights that he wasn't there. He's also noticed that Aaron and Merrick are getting along to some extent, but... something else is there, a tension that has nothing to do with how they used to fight constantly.

So while Yancy is surprised to see him actually come back, it's pleasantly so. Especially as Aaron falls to his knees before him and sets that dark eyed gaze on him. Much more willing... seems like he's learning (or trying to learn) some new things about himself.

"Look at you," he murmurs as he reaches out and hooks a finger into the collar. A little more gentle than last time as he swipes at the tears with his thumb. "So pretty when you cry for me... so fuckin' desperate. You need to be put to use, is that it?"

He can still hear Merrick in his head: so what is this going to be, then?

He has an idea.

[late-night-cabaret]

Yancy raises an eyebrow as he listens. Seems Aaron hadn't been playing up his desperate situation even a little bit. The fact that he chose the blow job over a loss of his actual job had been enough proof of that, but he's not even willing to take one night off.

He's already learning, though, and Yancy will take it.

Letting out a sigh, he finishes cleaning Aaron's face and finally lets him go as he tosses the wipe into the bin. "Fine. You can work the floor tonight. Just remember... this will be the one and only chance you get. So don't fuck it up."

He gives Aaron one last stern look before turning toward his desk again, resuming the work he had been doing before. "You can leave when you're ready."

"That's better," Yancy responds firmly taking a moment to look at Aaron's face. His makeup is a mess now, and as pleasing as it is to see tears and eyeliner running down his cheeks, he knows he can't send him out like that. Hank would bitch about it, at the very least, and Merrick would be even worse.

Reaching into the drawer of his desk, Yancy pulls out a pouch of wet wipes and sets it on his thigh, pulling one out before wiping at Aaron's face. He isn't the most gentle about it, but when is he gentle about anything? Does he really not have waterproof shit? "I think you've learned your lesson. Maybe go home, take the night off to let it sink in."

[late-night-cabaret]

"That's better," Yancy responds firmly taking a moment to look at Aaron's face. His makeup is a mess now, and as pleasing as it is to see tears and eyeliner running down his cheeks, he knows he can't send him out like that. Hank would bitch about it, at the very least, and Merrick would be even worse.

Reaching into the drawer of his desk, Yancy pulls out a pouch of wet wipes and sets it on his thigh, pulling one out before wiping at Aaron's face. He isn't the most gentle about it, but when is he gentle about anything? Does he really not have waterproof shit? "I think you've learned your lesson. Maybe go home, take the night off to let it sink in."

"Ah ah ah," Yancy interjects, talking over the second sentence, tilting his head back a fraction more. His other hand comes up and catches some of Aaron's tears on the side of his index finger, a surprisingly gentle gesture considering what just transpired moments ago. Yancy decides to extend the kindness a little further and give him another chance.

"Pathetic little cumslut... not quite back in your head yet, so let's try one more time." His grip moves until he's squeezing Aaron's cheeks firmly, still with enough leeway so he can talk and be heard. "You're sorry, what?"

[late-night-cabaret]

"Ah ah ah," Yancy interjects, talking over the second sentence, tilting his head back a fraction more. His other hand comes up and catches some of Aaron's tears on the side of his index finger, a surprisingly gentle gesture considering what just transpired moments ago. Yancy decides to extend the kindness a little further and give him another chance.

"Pathetic little cumslut... not quite back in your head yet, so let's try one more time." His grip moves until he's squeezing Aaron's cheeks firmly, still with enough leeway so he can talk and be heard. "You're sorry, what?"

Yancy all but pushes Aaron's head back when he's done with him, breathing heavily as he slowly tucks himself away and fixes his pants. He gives him time to recover, but not out of the kindness of his heart. No, he merely takes a moment to relish the sight before him with a smirk. The thought of still firing him doesn't even come to mind; he's an asshole, but he's satisfied enough, so he will be a man of his word.

Not without one final reminder of his fucking place, though.

"Now..." He begins with a sigh that sounds bored once again, leaning forward in his chair so he can grab Aaron's face in one hand. This time, he does make Aaron look at him, eyes still dark with malice. He sure looks pretty when he cries. "Repeat after me: I'm sorry, Sir. I'll behave."

[late-night-cabaret]

Yancy all but pushes Aaron's head back when he's done with him, breathing heavily as he slowly tucks himself away and fixes his pants. He gives him time to recover, but not out of the kindness of his heart. No, he merely takes a moment to relish the sight before him with a smirk. The thought of still firing him doesn't even come to mind; he's an asshole, but he's satisfied enough, so he will be a man of his word.

Not without one final reminder of his fucking place, though.

"Now..." He begins with a sigh that sounds bored once again, leaning forward in his chair so he can grab Aaron's face in one hand. This time, he does make Aaron look at him, eyes still dark with malice. He sure looks pretty when he cries. "Repeat after me: I'm sorry, Sir. I'll behave."

Yancy isn't entirely ruthless, but he certainly isn't nice, either. Aaron would still need to talk to the patrons the next time he works, after all. He stares down at him, watching his cock disappear into his mouth, occasionally pressing the tip to the back of his throat for a few seconds before pulling him back to breathe.

"I'm gettin' there... hmm, and I better not see one drop of my cum anywhere other than my cock and your mouth," he warns over a groan before pulling his head back so only the tip and a few inches remain in Aaron's mouth, shallowly bobbing his head up and down.

It's a few moments, then all Aaron gets is a moan in warning before Yancy is pushing him back down, cock pulsing as he cums down his throat.

[late-night-cabaret]

Yancy isn't entirely ruthless, but he certainly isn't nice, either. Aaron would still need to talk to the patrons the next time he works, after all. He stares down at him, watching his cock disappear into his mouth, occasionally pressing the tip to the back of his throat for a few seconds before pulling him back to breathe.

"I'm gettin' there... hmm, and I better not see one drop of my cum anywhere other than my cock and your mouth," he warns over a groan before pulling his head back so only the tip and a few inches remain in Aaron's mouth, shallowly bobbing his head up and down.

It's a few moments, then all Aaron gets is a moan in warning before Yancy is pushing him back down, cock pulsing as he cums down his throat.

The moan he hears is the most honest fucking thing Yancy has heard come out of Aaron's mouth in their limited interactions, and he eases up before yanking the strands once more. "I fuckin' knew it... little whore just needed some encouragement to come out."

The words end on a groan as he finally starts using that mouth more to Yancy's liking, and his other hand joins the first in Aaron's hair. The tears, the gagging, it all makes that knot in his gut tighten further as he grunts.

He moves Aaron's head up and down his cock, deep, like the button to make him act right is located at the back of his throat. "Hands behind your back, don't even think about touchin' yerself."

[late-night-cabaret]

The moan he hears is the most honest fucking thing Yancy has heard come out of Aaron's mouth in their limited interactions, and he eases up before yanking the strands once more. "I fuckin' knew it... little whore just needed some encouragement to come out."

The words end on a groan as he finally starts using that mouth more to Yancy's liking, and his other hand joins the first in Aaron's hair. The tears, the gagging, it all makes that knot in his gut tighten further as he grunts.

He moves Aaron's head up and down his cock, deep, like the button to make him act right is located at the back of his throat. "Hands behind your back, don't even think about touchin' yerself."

As Aaron begins bobbing his head, a growl rumbles in Yancy's chest, one hand reaching to the top of his head and roughly grabbing a fistful of hair. He doesn't move him, yet at least. The threat about 'helping' him had been more of a warning of what's to come, though.

"This the best you got?" He sneers condescendingly as pleasure sparks down his spine. It's just as much from the warm mouth around his dick as it is watching Aaron finally doing as he's told. Probably should've fired him sooner.

Gripping his hair tighter to keep him in place, Yancy rolls his hips upwards and chuckles, his voice dropping almost an entire octave. "Gonna fuck that throat of yours, and every time you even think about poppin' off at the mouth, you're gonna feel me there."

[late-night-cabaret]

As Aaron begins bobbing his head, a growl rumbles in Yancy's chest, one hand reaching to the top of his head and roughly grabbing a fistful of hair. He doesn't move him, yet at least. The threat about 'helping' him had been more of a warning of what's to come, though.

"This the best you got?" He sneers condescendingly as pleasure sparks down his spine. It's just as much from the warm mouth around his dick as it is watching Aaron finally doing as he's told. Probably should've fired him sooner.

Gripping his hair tighter to keep him in place, Yancy rolls his hips upwards and chuckles, his voice dropping almost an entire octave. "Gonna fuck that throat of yours, and every time you even think about poppin' off at the mouth, you're gonna feel me there."

Yancy watches as his pale skin gradually reddens, which is easy to do since he's also hardly wearing anything. He just knows that it isn't only from anger. Looks like someone is enjoying this more than he's willing to admit out loud.

Not that Yancy gives a shit at the moment.

The boredom is broken up by a smirk as Aaron shivers, watching as his cock slides into his mouth. He suppresses any noises, narrowing his eyes as he's partially enveloped in warmth. "Yeah, that's it... go deeper before I start helpin' you."

[late-night-cabaret]

Yancy watches as his pale skin gradually reddens, which is easy to do since he's also hardly wearing anything. He just knows that it isn't only from anger. Looks like someone is enjoying this more than he's willing to admit out loud.

Not that Yancy gives a shit at the moment.

The boredom is broken up by a smirk as Aaron shivers, watching as his cock slides into his mouth. He suppresses any noises, narrowing his eyes as he's partially enveloped in warmth. "Yeah, that's it... go deeper before I start helpin' you."

Yancy hums like he's trying to feign interest, yet he's already half hard by the time Aaron has his pants open. Revealing dark grey boxer briefs and a sizeable bulge that is definitely not his mind playing tricks on him.

"So you can listen... color me fuckin' surprised," he rumbles above him, eyes dark and cold as he watches. Yeah, he's being mean and fuck if it doesn't make more blood rush down to his cock.

Aaron is going to get a taste of his own medicine, and Yancy is going to make sure that shit lingers.

"Go on, then. Take out my cock... show me you can be good for somethin'."

[late-night-cabaret]

Yancy hums like he's trying to feign interest, yet he's already half hard by the time Aaron has his pants open. Revealing dark grey boxer briefs and a sizeable bulge that is definitely not his mind playing tricks on him.

"So you can listen... color me fuckin' surprised," he rumbles above him, eyes dark and cold as he watches. Yeah, he's being mean and fuck if it doesn't make more blood rush down to his cock.

Aaron is going to get a taste of his own medicine, and Yancy is going to make sure that shit lingers.

"Go on, then. Take out my cock... show me you can be good for somethin'."

Yancy doesn't take his eyes off of Aaron as he makes his way around the desk and kneels before him. Yeah... yeah, that's much better. He also doesn't mind the lack of eye contact from him; if he wanted Aaron to meet his eye, he would have instructed him to do so.

Leaning his elbow on the desk, he appears bored as he stares down at him and rests his cheek against his knuckles. Whether Aaron is awaiting further instruction or hesitating, he doesn't care much. He does, however, take a brief moment to bask in this. Watching someone who has been nothing but a pain in his fucking ass for the last several months realizing his bullshit wasn't going to fly anymore.

"Undo my belt and pants. Slowly."

[late-night-cabaret]

Yancy doesn't take his eyes off of Aaron as he makes his way around the desk and kneels before him. Yeah... yeah, that's much better. He also doesn't mind the lack of eye contact from him; if he wanted Aaron to meet his eye, he would have instructed him to do so.

Leaning his elbow on the desk, he appears bored as he stares down at him and rests his cheek against his knuckles. Whether Aaron is awaiting further instruction or hesitating, he doesn't care much. He does, however, take a brief moment to bask in this. Watching someone who has been nothing but a pain in his fucking ass for the last several months realizing his bullshit wasn't going to fly anymore.

"Undo my belt and pants. Slowly."

Yancy is actually waiting for it. For Aaron to be stupid enough to try and talk back to him in this moment, with his livelihood hanging in the balance. The boss is sure he wants to.

How, indeed. A few ideas come to mind.

He smirks. "You think I haven't notice you eye fuckin' me every time I walk into the buildin'? Practically beggin' to be put in your place." Standing up to his full height now, he shrugs out of his suit jacket and tosses it to the side. He hums, seeming to think about something before sitting back down.

"You can either get your shit and get out... or..." He points at the space in front of him between his spread legs. "You can get on your knees and convince me of just how sorry you are."

[late-night-cabaret]

Yancy is actually waiting for it. For Aaron to be stupid enough to try and talk back to him in this moment, with his livelihood hanging in the balance. The boss is sure he wants to.

How, indeed. A few ideas come to mind.

He smirks. "You think I haven't notice you eye fuckin' me every time I walk into the buildin'? Practically beggin' to be put in your place." Standing up to his full height now, he shrugs out of his suit jacket and tosses it to the side. He hums, seeming to think about something before sitting back down.

"You can either get your shit and get out... or..." He points at the space in front of him between his spread legs. "You can get on your knees and convince me of just how sorry you are."

Oh, do I have your attention now?

Yancy remains aloof as he stares back at Aaron, the only change in his expression being a raised eyebrow. The begging is new, and even if he isn't outwardly showing it, the display pleases him.

"You need this job?" He lets out a huff, gaze moving down and back up his form. "Coulda fuckin' fooled me."

As Aaron makes himself look smaller, Yancy is slowly getting to his feet and leaning forward, palms on the desk. It wasn't enough that he was desperate and promising to do better. No, Aaron needs to understand his place.

"Your words mean nothin' to me, Aaron. You wanna keep your job? Prove it."

Yancy doesn't elaborate, merely letting the statement hang between them while glaring a hole through him.

[late-night-cabaret]

Oh, do I have your attention now?

Yancy remains aloof as he stares back at Aaron, the only change in his expression being a raised eyebrow. The begging is new, and even if he isn't outwardly showing it, the display pleases him.

"You need this job?" He lets out a huff, gaze moving down and back up his form. "Coulda fuckin' fooled me."

As Aaron makes himself look smaller, Yancy is slowly getting to his feet and leaning forward, palms on the desk. It wasn't enough that he was desperate and promising to do better. No, Aaron needs to understand his place.

"Your words mean nothin' to me, Aaron. You wanna keep your job? Prove it."

Yancy doesn't elaborate, merely letting the statement hang between them while glaring a hole through him.

The apology doesn't make shit better. In fact, it only pisses Yancy off even more. The cool and calm exterior is beginning to crack as he rolls his shoulders to try and relieve some of the tension building there.

"Yeah, I don't buy that. Bein' sorry implies that you'll do better, and frankly, I don't see that happenin'. Messin' with my money is one thing, but my reputation and other people's livelihoods?"

A beat of silence as he shakes his head. "You got five minutes to gather your things and get out of my club. We're done here."

[late-night-cabaret]

The apology doesn't make shit better. In fact, it only pisses Yancy off even more. The cool and calm exterior is beginning to crack as he rolls his shoulders to try and relieve some of the tension building there.

"Yeah, I don't buy that. Bein' sorry implies that you'll do better, and frankly, I don't see that happenin'. Messin' with my money is one thing, but my reputation and other people's livelihoods?"

A beat of silence as he shakes his head. "You got five minutes to gather your things and get out of my club. We're done here."

"An accident..."

Yancy's voice is so low at this point that it barely registers, fingers tapping slowly against the arm of his chair. He's leaning his face into the other hand, almost looking bored.

"So you flout my rules, you're rude and condescendin' to the staff, and you assault a fuckin' customer instead of leavin' the room and gettin' Jimmy or Hank... not for the first time... and now you're insultin' my fuckin' intelligence?"

His voice gets sharper as he leans forward, eyes dark as he stares him down. Every fiber of his being is ready to toss him out. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?"

[late-night-cabaret]

"An accident..."

Yancy's voice is so low at this point that it barely registers, fingers tapping slowly against the arm of his chair. He's leaning his face into the other hand, almost looking bored.

"So you flout my rules, you're rude and condescendin' to the staff, and you assault a fuckin' customer instead of leavin' the room and gettin' Jimmy or Hank... not for the first time... and now you're insultin' my fuckin' intelligence?"

His voice gets sharper as he leans forward, eyes dark as he stares him down. Every fiber of his being is ready to toss him out. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?"

Things have been rough. Aaron's not sure how he's still holding everything together. It constantly feels like one wrong move, one tiny stumble, and everything will come crashing down.

His job keeps him... housed. At least. Most months, anyways. His piece of shit landlord keeps jacking up the rent, and his ex fucked off somewhere, leaving him hanging with the lease.

(He probably deserved it. He was not a very good partner.)

Tonight was shit. Aaron had already been feeling unwell, the kind of unwell that had led to him getting thrown out onto the streets, and one of the patrons had gotten too clingy in the private room, and the next thing he knew the guy was unconscious and bleeding, and his knuckles were split open.

This wouldn't have been a problem, really, if it weren't for the fact that this was not the first time it happened. Being known for lying wouldn't help his case, either.

He's called into the office. That's never good. He hugs himself and goes in under Hank's fucking judgmental-ass stare. Fuck him, anyways. Standing in front of the desk, he glares at the top of it, heart racing in his throat and stomach twisting.

Yancy isn't always at The Grind. He's a busy man. He owns half a dozen other businesses (the legitimate ones), and he has shit to do. He's been at The Grind more lately, and the reason for that is fucking standing in front of his desk.

And he can't even look Yancy in the eye. It's as aggravating as it is pleasing in its own way.

He's just come from a meeting, dressed in a burgundy suit, black tie loosened so the blood pulsing in his neck has somewhere to go. He lets Aaron stand there in silence for a moment, like a dog that knows it wasn't supposed to get into the trash and still couldn't fucking help itself.

Then, a tablet is being pushed into Aaron's field of vision on the desk. Video of the incident plays, captured by one of the cameras in the ceiling.

"Got anythin' to say for yerself?" He asks, and it's calm. Way too calm.