Pairing: Letterboys (JC/AJ)
Completed: April 2004
Kevin was a kinky mother-fucker, and AJ got the number of the agency from him. They had a reputation for extreme discretion, and one escort in particular who would do anything and never say a word.
AJ needed unequivocal silence in this matter. After all, he had a reputation to maintain.
JC stood alone in the elevator rising to the twelfth floor. He knew his clientele, and he knew what to expect. He only worked a few nights a month - to allow time for injuries to heal - but the agency commanded prices on him that allowed that.
The elevator slowed to a gentle stop before the doors opened. JC nodded to the familiar bodyguards stationed in the hall. McLean and Richardson sang in the same band. He wasn’t surprised Richardson had given him a referral. Compliments and tips had served to show Richardson’s opinion of JC’s services.
The bodyguard beckoned JC onto the floor and directed him to McLean’s suite. JC knocked politely on the door.
AJ opened it and welcomed JC in.
“Would you like something to drink, JC?” AJ offered as he approached the mini-bar. The movement caused the open front of his button-down shirt to waffle in the air.
“No, thank you. Unless you have some bottled water?”
AJ pulled a bottle, from the small refrigerator and handed it to the tall, slender man. “I hear you are very -- versatile.”
JC chuckled proudly, breaking the seal on the water bottle. The loose curls of his medium-length hair bounced as he nodded shortly. “Whatever you want, man. And speaking of which, what do you want?”
“And not a word of this to anyone? Not even Kevin?”
“Not a soul,” JC confirmed. “I never divulge.”
AJ set his drink on the peninsula counter. “I just want to be held.”
“No, just held.”
JC shrugged. In his experience, that meant the client wanted to seduced, the client wanted to be wooed, the client wanted to make love instead of fuck nasty. It all paid the same, so it made no difference to JC if McLean wanted to snuggle, wrestle, or truss JC up like a spring chicken.
“Got something else you want to do while I’m holding you?” JC asked. Some clients wanted to be ‘distracted’ in the middle of something else.
It was AJ’s turn to shrug. “Got any movies you want to see? I can send a bodyguard for a rental.”
JC shook his head and took another drink of his water. “I’m fine with whatever.”
JC nestled into the corner of the loveseat in the front room of the suite and turned on the TV with the remote. He spread his legs, making a place for AJ to sit. AJ looked at him with a critical eye. JC’s pants were very tight – which was trés sexy when he was standing, but they looked uncomfortable for sitting in that position.
“Are you going to be comfortable in those? I’ve got a pair of sweats you can borrow,” AJ offered.
JC looked down critically. Sweats? Man, some cats’ kinks. “Whatever you want.”
AJ shrugged carelessly. “Let me know if you decide you want ‘em. No reason for you to be uncomfortable.” He seated himself between JC’s spread thighs and relaxed back against the taller man’s chest.
JC set his water bottle on the end-table and moved to wrap his arms around AJ, but AJ took JC’s hands and placed them where he wanted them. He put JC’s left hand on his stomach and covered it with his own. Lacing the fingers of his right hand under JC’s, back to palm, he set their hands on JC’s thigh, loosening his grip again so JC could get his water when he wanted.
JC smiled indulgently where AJ couldn’t see and nuzzled the short dark hair. He lifted his hand and channel-surfed until he found something that interested AJ, judging by the lack of derisive grunt.
Halfway through the episode of Starsky and Hutch, JC started petting AJ’s arms, stroking comfortably with the grain of the hair. AJ made a contented sound and relaxed further into JC’s embrace.
Half an hour later, JC began nuzzling at AJ’s neck, gently nibbling the line of muscle and kissing the knob of bone behind AJ’s ear.
AJ hummed and tipped his head to the side. “I know I said, ‘just held,’ but that’s really nice, too.”
JC grinned in satisfaction, hugging AJ a little before settling with his cheek against the side of AJ’s neck.
After the next commercial, his fingertips crept downward then started to toy with the button of AJ’s slacks. AJ covered JC’s hand with his own, stilling it.
“I’m sorry if I gave you a mixed signal, man. But I really do mean no sex. I get enough of that from starfuckers.”
JC withdrew his hand, letting it settle again where AJ had placed it originally. Why the hell was this guy paying through the nose for JC’s time if he didn’t even want to get laid?
AJ felt JC’s tension against his back. He sat up and turned a little so they could see each other. “Everybody – and I mean everybody – who comes into my room expects something. Whether it’s the lay of a lifetime, or to be the lay of my lifetime, everybody expects something. I’m just sick of trying to live up to everyone’s expectations. Maybe I don’t want to get laid every night. Maybe I don’t want to have a fling in every city.”
“Then why…?” JC stopped his question too late.
AJ sighed. “I’m Backstreet’s ‘bad boy.’ I have a reputation to maintain.”
JC nodded. “Okay, man,” he said quietly. “Whatever you want to do.”