fic for 64907 (1/3)

[nino-mod.livejournal.com]

For: 64907
From: lover_youshould

Title: Shadows in Slow Motion
Pairing/Focus: Nino/Jun
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex work, money-related kink (how does this not have a name?!), anxiety issues, angst that is resolved by the end, with brief appearances by: light bondage, sex toys, sex with another person in the room, mentions of additional kinks
Summary: Nino has made a happy, comfortable life for himself by trading sex for money, but when Jun comes along, he gets more than he bargained for.
Notes: Dear Recipient-san: Your sign-up had SO MANY THINGS that I wanted to write, but in the end I couldn't escape the tantalizing grasp of Sugar Daddy Matsumoto. I hope you enjoy it! Also, sorry about the lack of Sho. Ask me after reveals about my headcanon for him and Jun in this fic. :D Thank you to Best Beta for being the best beta, and thank you to Nino Mod for being the best mod. Title from "Ai no Collection" which is definitely recommended listening for this fic.

i.
Nino never intended for his life to turn out this way. It just kind of happened. He loves having sex, and he loves making money; the progression was natural from there. And when people ask why he does it, he always tells the truth.

He wants men to buy him things.

Not everyone is comfortable with that explanation. They turn their noses up, or tell him it's wrong, or prod him for some deeper reason, something profound or romantic. To Nino, that's as romantic as it gets.

Today he's meeting with a new client, a strikingly handsome thirty-something named Jun -- just Jun, the way Nino is just Kazu when it comes to these meetings -- and he seems to have done his homework. "Sho-kun told me you like gifts," he says, voice low in the cafe where they agreed to meet. "I thought we could stop somewhere on the way so I can pick something out for you."

Nino can't resist an offer like that.

They take the train to a sex shop Nino's been to a few times before, one he likes because it has a wide selection and is close to one of his favorite love hotels. When they walk in, Jun asks, "What would you like?"

Nino replies, "What would you like to use on me today?"

It's a line he uses often because it reveals nothing about him, whereas what clients pick out says a lot about them right off the bat. Is this guy into pain, is he into domination, does he just want something vanilla -- does he like flashy things or does he favor practicality -- is he willing to shell out the extra money for something just a little nicer?

Jun turns away, wandering towards the back with Nino in tow. He goes immediately for the aisle filled with bondage paraphernalia. Interesting.

They look at rope and harnesses and shackles until Jun settles on a pair of cuffs. There's a dozen cheaper versions, plain metal ones and gimmicky fuzzy ones, but Jun picks padded leather. A good choice.

They turn towards the register, and Jun motions for Nino to go first. There, too, Nino observes. Will the client pay with shaky, nervous hands? Will he overcompensate with rudeness or bravado? Jun does neither. He pays for the cuffs like they're an everyday item off his grocery list, and then he hands them to Nino, right there at the counter where the cashier can see it happen.

Nino feels a familiar thrill as he takes the package from Jun, their fingertips brushing as it passes between their hands. It kick-starts the buzz Nino always seems to be chasing after -- the reason he does any of this in the first place. He slips the shopping bag into his satchel and feels the excitement humming under his skin the entire time they're walking to the love hotel.

~
Nino's been doing this for a long time.

He started out small, fresh out of college and needing an easy way to pay his rent. He would bullshit his way into fancy parties so he could work the room and weed out the married men and the cheapskates from the ones who needed a comfort or a thrill for the night and were willing to pay for it. Eventually he honed it into an art form, effortlessly sniping out the older men who sat at the bar by themselves and sipped from glasses of top-shelf booze, no wedding ring in sight. All he had to do was introduce himself and let them guide the conversation. If they wanted to lecture him about something like "making the right choices as a youngster," he excused himself pretty quickly. But if they sized him up... He got very good at noticing when men were checking him out, even when they thought they were being subtle.

He's come a long way from there. He gets work mostly through word of mouth now, friends of friends passing on whispers about how good their last fuck was. He can just imagine it: a bunch of horny salarymen circled around the water cooler, trading stories and numbers.

He's less specialized now, too, and has had his fair share of one-nighters and repeat customers who just want the sex and aren't interested in offering anything more. That's fine with Nino -- he makes more than enough to stay afloat -- and it also means he's seen it all, done everything under the sun. So at first, the only noteworthy thing about Jun is how young he is. But then again, if he heard about Nino from Sho, even that isn't too surprising.

He pays for the room and hands over Nino's fee as soon as they're inside. He's wearing street clothes, blandly stylish like he doesn't want to attract too much attention while he's out with his rent boy, and most of it stays on the whole time. He sits on the bed while Nino blows him, and then he cuffs Nino's wrists to the headboard and fucks him. With other clients Nino sometimes has to fake it, but not today. He comes with Jun's hand working his dick, moaning out his pleasure in a way that's only slightly exaggerated for Jun's benefit.

Over the years, Nino's been with guys who wanted to dress him up in costumes of latex or ruffles or fur, or wanted him to pretend not to like it, or wanted to put him over their knees so they could spank him and make him call them Daddy. Nino doesn't hate that stuff, but it doesn't do anything for him either. But Jun doesn't want any of that. He doesn't tell Nino to call him anything special, doesn't put up a fuss about wearing a condom, doesn't cry at the end.

When they're done, he asks if Nino liked the cuffs. Nino's still a little breathless, rubbing the faint marks out of his wrists as he lies there naked. "Loved 'em," he says. It's the truth.

Jun smiles, sweaty and glowing and distractingly attractive. "I'm glad."

Then he washes up and leaves, thanking Nino on his way out.

They don't kiss. They don't even talk all that much. It's nice, but it's nothing to write home about.

It's one of the only sessions of theirs that Nino will ever describe that way.

~
The next few days are pretty average, as far as Nino's days go. He wakes up and reviews his schedule, planning his video games around leaving the house to go get paid for sex. Life is good.

On Sunday, he sets time aside to put away the gifts he's received over the past week. The cuffs from Jun, a few other sex toys, a Burberry gift card in an envelope that also includes a handwritten note about what exactly the client thinks Nino would look good in. He moved into this apartment a few years after he got his feet off the ground, and he picked it specifically because it has an open balcony where he can smoke, a decently sized tub where he can wind down at the end of the night, and a massive walk-in closet where he can store every gift he's ever received from a client. It came with a rack for hanging clothes and a few built-in drawers, but over the years Nino has added countless rows of shelves, a modest wine rack, a leather-bound binder with plastic sleeves to hold gift cards, bank cards, business cards for all the hotels and restaurants he's been treated to...

When he was first shopping around for a new place all those years ago, he considered just choosing one that had an extra bedroom instead, but he finally decided that would be overkill. Now he's thinking he might need to move again soon.

On Monday, he calls Aiba to see if they can have lunch together. Nino's been so busy with clients lately that the two of them haven't had much time to catch up, but luckily Aiba has a few hours to spare that afternoon, so they meet at an upscale soba place that just opened in Aiba's neighborhood.

Upscale anything was never among their options when they were teenagers, but things are different now. Back when Nino was just starting, he'd pull the "oops, forgot my wallet" routine and Aiba would go along with it, always good-natured, playfully scolding Nino for being so forgetful even though he knew from the moment they sat down that that's how it would end. Now that Nino's raking in cash, though, he feels kind of bad about it, so he usually pays for their outings and suggests places he knows Aiba wouldn't go to on his own -- trying to repay him for countless lunches and dinners and coffees and video-game-marathon snack runs.

It's been years like this and Aiba still makes a joke out of it, every single time: "Waah, stingy Nino is paying for me! I feel so special!" And every single time, Nino whacks him over the head and tries to hide his smile behind his hand.

They're halfway through their meal, deep into a conversation about some superhero movie they watched a few weeks ago, when Nino's phone buzzes with a message from Jun. I want to see you again.

"Ooh, is that a client?" Aiba asks, mouth half-full of noodles. He's never grumpy about Nino looking at his phone when they're hanging out together because he knows Nino's work is the reason they can afford to hang out like this at all. Besides, whenever Nino starts swiping through his calendar or typing out responses, Aiba just uses the opportunity to grab his own phone and send some kissy-face emoji to his beloved Oh-chan.

"Yeah," Nino mumbles, already scanning his calendar. "A new guy."

"Is he cute?"

Aiba doesn't ask many questions about Nino's work -- though he loves to hear about it when Nino does want to talk -- but somehow, whenever Nino mentions a client for the first time, he always asks that, as if it's a potential boyfriend or something. Nino always rolls his eyes, because it's not like whether a client is attractive or not has anything to do with Nino's decision to see him... but yeah, Jun's pretty damn cute.

He taps out on his phone, Wednesday?

Almost as soon as he sets it on the table, there's a reply. Busy that night. Weekend?

Sunday's wide open.

He keeps his phone in his hand after pressing send, expecting another prompt reply, but nothing comes. He and Aiba pick up where they left off, and when they're done eating, they spend the rest of Aiba's free time walking around, cruising into comic shops and bakeries, their conversation circling back to the superhero movie over and over: "Okay, but another thing..."

It isn't until Nino is on his way home that he gets another message from Jun.

Sorry for the delay, had to move some things around. I'll take Sunday.

~
They meet in the evening, and this time Jun already has a gift in hand as he walks into the cafe. It's in an unmarked shopping bag, the paper threaded with thin, silvery strands. Inside, buried under a nest of tissue paper, is a business card for a high-end sex shop Nino's only ever been to with loyal customers, the guys he knows have the cash for it, and under that is a cock ring. Nino doesn't take it out of the bag, not here in the middle of a crowded, public space, but it looks nice, a little band of smooth leather accented with metal snaps. It'll make an excellent addition to the collection.

He looks up, smiling. "Jewelry on a second date?"

"I hope you like it," Jun says, just a touch bashful.

Nino gathers up the bag and his jacket as he stands from the table. "Let's go try it on."

After they get to the love hotel, Jun undresses Nino and puts the ring on him, his hands moving with graceful precision. He gets Nino on the bed, then gets him hard, gets him there, opening him up one finger at a time, completely unhurried in a way that has Nino thinking he'll be begging soon.

The minutes bleed together, stretching endlessly. All Nino can focus on is Jun's fingers inside him, the mesmerizing glint of Jun's eyes above him.

When Jun finally pushes into him, Nino is lying on his back with one leg over Jun's shoulder, all the pillows thrown to the floor. Jun works up a rhythm, slow and deliberate, makes Nino feel every inch. He leans down and the shift drives him deeper, eliciting a particularly high-pitched moan from Nino.

Where his hand is hooked behind Nino's knee, holding it in place, his grip tightens. "You like that?" he whispers.

Nino is too far gone for words. All he can do is clutch at Jun's arms, try to breathe. Jun keeps at it, holds the angle perfectly, concentration written on his face as if every thrust is calculated to make Nino feel like he's going to unravel.

When Jun finally snaps the ring off, Nino is ready to come in seconds. Jun gets a hand on his cock and drops even lower, slides in somehow even deeper, and picks up speed until Nino is crying out, moaning through an orgasm he feels all the way down to his toes. Jun finishes soon after, resting against Nino for a moment before he rolls to the side so he can deal with the condom.

Nino is still adrift in the post-orgasmic haze, but from the way Jun is panting beside him, he thinks he's not the only one who's reeling.

And Jun still has most of his damn clothes on.

~
The first time he sees Jun completely naked, they're showering together after a truly impressive hour-and-a-half-long fuckathon during which Nino managed to wrangle two glorious orgasms out of Jun, who usually only comes once during their sessions and whose voice, Nino now knows, gets progressively more breathy and whimpery the more sensitive his cock is. Jun invites him into the shower afterwards, and as soon as Nino pulls aside the curtain and sees him, naked and wet with soap suds trailing past his nipples, he moves in for orgasm number three.

The first time Jun goes down on him, Nino is honestly a little surprised by it. Clients don't usually offer, and he absolutely never asks. He suspects it's because Jun finished earlier than he anticipated; apparently the ball gag he'd brought as a gift that evening affected him more than he was counting on.

The first time they kiss, it's after they've already finished fucking. They're lying alongside each other, naked above the sheets, both still panting as they recover from the exertion. When Jun starts moving around, Nino assumes he's heading for the shower, but then Jun is leaning over him, watching him for a long, awkward moment before he finally asks shyly, "May I...?"

Nino is so charmed that he can't hold back a laugh. Jun frowns, but Nino gets a hand on his shoulder to keep him from pulling away. He smiles up at him and says, "Please do."

That first kiss is unimaginably soft, just a gentle brush of Jun's lips against his. Jun pulls back, seems to be searching Nino's eyes for something, and Nino lets him, allows himself to be open, transparent. There's nothing in this moment that he needs to hide. Then Jun leans down for more, comes back with tongue this time, and Nino gives a little moan, pulls him in deeper with a hand around the back of his neck.

They make out until Jun's phone reminds him it's time to leave. As he showers hurriedly, Nino stays in bed, feeling fucked-out and happy, his lips tingling pleasantly in the afterglow.

~
Jun keeps calling on him, week after week, usually in the evening and almost always on a weekend. Despite the steady pattern, something about their time together makes Nino feel like they're escalating in some way, this inevitable push towards something more, always more. Each gift is more expensive than the last, each hotel room nicer, bigger, pricier. That's not unusual for repeat clients, who often want sessions that are increasingly intense, acts that are increasingly outrageous, but with Jun, there are other things that shine through as well.

It's the way he dotes on Nino, like making a point to hold the door for him every single time or placing a hand on the small of his back as they're standing there choosing a room. It's his knack for noticing what gets Nino off and then repeating it, like when Nino's on his back with Jun holding his leg just so and the angle is perfect and it nearly makes Nino scream -- the way he's always giving as much as he's getting.

It's the way he pays attention, period.

One night he has two of Nino's fingers in his mouth, the velvety curl of his tongue under Nino's fingertips sending chills down Nino's spine. He pulls off, scrapes his teeth past Nino's knuckles just enough to make him feel it, and then out of the blue he says, "You have calluses."

Nino had his eyes closed, but he opens them now to look down. He's riding Jun's cock and everything about it feels incredible, and there's not a single intelligent thought in his head. All he can muster is a nod. Jun lets it go, moves his hands to grip Nino's hips so he can fuck up into him, and for the next few minutes nothing else matters.

But afterwards, before Jun gets up to shower, he traces his fingertips over Nino's and asks, "What are they from?"

Now that he's not feeling quite so sex-stupid, Nino is a little more composed. "Guitar," he says. "I played a lot when I was younger."

Something about that makes Jun frown, his eyebrows drawing low over his eyes. "Not anymore?"

"I've been meaning to get back into it, but work keeps me busy."

It's Nino's favorite kind of bullshit answer to give -- specific enough that the client feels like they're learning something about him, vague enough that he's revealing nothing of value -- but Jun makes a quiet considering noise like he's filing it away for future use.

It's because of things like this that Nino finds himself so helplessly enamored. It doesn't hurt that Jun is crazy handsome and the sex is great, but it's also his attention to detail, his superhuman focus, his shy sincerity. Nino has never not looked forward to a session, because he has no problem dropping clients he doesn't like, but it's been a long time since it wasn't just the session he was looking forward to.

It's Jun.

And something about that revelation is just a little bit scary.

~
Jun messages him one week to set up an appointment like normal, and then a few days later he sends, Can't take the train this time. Meet me there? along with an address. Nino looks it up and is pleasantly surprised to find that it's a hotel. Not a love hotel -- a real hotel, five stars on the first review site that pops up, the kind of place Nino hardly ever goes to with clients.

He sends back, Looking forward to it, and feels a little thrill as he presses send.

The night of their session, he makes sure to dress a little more nicely than usual. He always makes a point to look good, of course, but this time he reaches for a button-up instead of a V-neck, picks out a decent blazer to go with it, spends a few extra minutes in front of the mirror working on his hair. If Jun wants to go the extra mile, Nino can too.

When he gets to the hotel, he messages Jun to let him know he's arrived and receives a room number in return. He's alone on the elevator ride up, and as he stands there staring at the floor numbers changing, he realizes he's tapping his fingers impatiently against the railing. He's been so excited these past few days that he hadn't put much thought into any of it, but now he's starting to wonder: Why did Jun go the extra mile for this? Is tonight the night he'll sit Nino down and give him the "Now that we're comfortable with each other, I've always wanted to try this one crazy thing I can't approach a normal human about" confession that Nino's heard from so many other repeat clients?

Whatever Jun wants in return, Nino will give it to him with a smile on his face -- or not, if that's more appropriate. It's the not knowing that's making him feel a little antsy.

He gets out of the elevator, finds the room. He knocks on the door, and now that he's standing right in front of it, he can hear Jun's voice from inside, talking a mile a minute. When the door swings open, Jun has his phone in one hand, listening intently to the other end of the line with furrowed eyebrows, but at the sight of Nino, his eyes go big. He looks Nino up and down, the edges of his mouth curling up in the beginning of a lecherous smile. Nino smiles back, feeling quite proud of himself.

Jun ushers him inside and kicks the door closed behind them as he says into the phone, "I'm telling you, the deal will go through. Just get me in the room, I'll convince them." He catches Nino's eye to mouth sorry, but Nino waves him off. It gives him a chance to look around.

The room, it turns out, is incredible. The bed is massive, and the balcony doors are open to let in a cool breeze and show off a gorgeous view of the city. Everything is earth-toned, rich creams and deep reds all covered in leafy patterns. And now that he's had a chance to take it all in, he spots it: a package, tall and rectangular, leaning against the wall by the door. It looks like it goes up to Nino's waist, or maybe a bit higher, and it's wrapped in bright, silvery paper. Attached to it with a piece of tape, right up near the top, is an envelope with Kazu drawn neatly in hiragana.

Nino sits down on the bed to keep himself from walking over and opening it right this second, but he can't suppress an excited smile. What the hell kind of sex toy is waiting for him in there?

Jun finally hangs up and immediately tosses his phone onto the dresser. "Sorry about that."

Nino shrugs. "Don't worry about it." He leans back, his hands propped on the mattress behind him. He knows for a fact that this pose accentuates his collarbones. "Duty calls, I understand."

"They'd implode without me, I swear," Jun sighs, but he drops it after that, circling around the bed so he can climb onto it, behind Nino. It's only a few seconds before he feels Jun's fingers creeping up his arm to pull the collar of his shirt aside, Jun's mouth kissing a line from his jaw down to his shoulders. The collarbone trick works every time. "Do you like the room?" Jun asks, barely a whisper, so close that his lips brush against Nino's skin.

"It's gorgeous."

"Mm." Another kiss, right over his pulse point. "Like you."

Nino leans back, tilting his head to capture Jun's mouth with his, to taste Jun's smile with his tongue. "And what's that by the door?" he asks.

Jun kisses him again, then pulls back just enough to say, "Your payment for tonight." Another kiss. "And something else I thought you might enjoy." Another kiss. "But you can't open it until later."

So then it's not a sex toy after all. A little shiver runs down Nino's spine, exhilaration sparking through his veins. He rests his head against Jun's shoulder, his eyes closed. "I can't wait to see what it is."

"You're gonna have to," Jun whispers, right before his teeth nip at the corner of Nino's jaw. He trails his hand down Nino's chest, coming to rest between his legs, and he makes a pleased noise against Nino's skin when he finds that Nino is already starting to get hard. Nino moans at Jun's touch, pushes his hips up when Jun gives him a gentle squeeze.

He's still curious, but if it's for sex with Jun, he supposes he can live with the suspense.

~
The sex does a great job of holding his curiosity at bay, but once Jun gets in the shower, patience is a lot more difficult to come by. Still, Nino somehow manages to stay in bed until Jun finally comes out of the bathroom, completely dressed with his hair dry and styled. He must carry mousse around in his bag, Nino thinks, tickled despite his jittery excitement.

Jun stops by the bed to kiss Nino goodbye, and on his way out the door, he spares Nino a final glance over his shoulder as he says, "Enjoy your gift." As soon as he's gone, Nino jumps out of bed and rushes to the door so he can press his ear against it, listening for Jun's footsteps traveling down the hall, the faint ping of the elevator.

He goes for the card first, ripping it off the package and opening it as quickly as he can without tearing the paper. Inside is a greeting card; the front displays a painting of a musician caricaturized in square, exaggerated shapes, with notes of music flowing from his guitar in the form of colorful ribbons. It's printed on heavy, textured stock, no label or price on the back, and when he opens it, something flutters down to the floor.

Nino kneels, groping around his feet as he skims the handwritten note on the inside of the card. But as soon as his fingers close around the shape -- a small, plastic rectangle -- his eyes snap down to see what it is.

A business card for a bank, laminated, with information for an account handwritten neatly on the back in permanent marker. Everything is there: routing and access numbers, associated email address and phone number, a URL for online access... All he needs to do is log on and transfer whatever is there into his personal account.

He looks back to Jun's note, reading the words almost too quickly to comprehend them.

Kazu,

A more convenient way to pay for our sessions.
You can log in online. The password is 0830.
Payment for tonight is already there, plus some extra.
Maybe you can take a night off and start playing again.

Enjoy the room as long as you'd like.

Jun

For a moment Nino just stands there, letting the words process. Playing again? Then he throws the cards onto the bed and tears into the package, his heart beating so fast he can feel it in his throat. If it's what he thinks it is...

It is. It's exactly what he thought it was.

It's a guitar.

A fucking guitar.

The case is hardshell, black all over but for the metal latches. He sets it gingerly on the bed, almost too excited to get his fingers to work right. He finally unlatches it and opens it slowly, letting his eyes soak in every detail as it's revealed to him. The inside of the case is lined with dark, soft velvet, and nestled inside of it is the guitar. It's acoustic, painted pure black, with swirling patterns that are inlaid with silver engraved around the curves of the body and all up the neck, the whole thing coated in a glossy finish.

He reaches down to touch it, moving slow, and realizes that he's smiling so wide his cheeks are beginning to hurt. He can hardly believe it's real. He gives one of the strings a little pluck, and the sound reverberates through the room and bounces right back to him. It's real all right.

~
The first thing he does is tell Aiba about it.

Well, okay, the very first thing he does is jerk off in the shower, but after that he wraps himself up in a feather-soft robe and sits on the bed in front of the guitar, phone in hand. He snaps a picture of it and loads it into a LINE message that's going straight to Aiba. Holy shit, he adds as a caption. Look what a client bought for me.

While he waits for a response, he gingerly lifts the guitar from its case. It feels incredible in his hands, all soft curves and finished wood that's cool to the touch. The strap that he fits over his shoulder has that same swirly, silvery pattern.

He strums out a few chords before his phone chirps with Aiba's reply: a shocked emoji with approximately one million exclamation points.

Nino's grinning all over again. He opens up his camera and takes a panorama shot of the room, then sends that off too. And this.

Aiba's response: HE BOUGHT YOU AN APARTMENT????!!!!!?!?!?!?

It's a hotel room, dummy.

Does it have a pool? is Aiba's reply, along with a sticker of a bear running at top speed.

Nino laughs, puts his phone away, and spends the rest of the night sitting in bed, strumming his new guitar, thinking about how beautiful it's going to look in his closet -- the crown jewel of his collection.



ii.
He orders room service for breakfast the next morning and eats it in bed, where he now sits humming around a mouthful of waffle and strawberries as he taps out a message to Jun. Just had an amazing night of sleep. I'll have to write you a song about it.

By the time he's all packed up and ready to go, there's a reply waiting for him. Don't tease.

He sends back, Thank you. Seriously.

On the cab ride home, he keeps the guitar case over his lap, stroking it absentmindedly, smiling to himself the whole way. He replays the events of last night, and as he does, curious thoughts start to spread and take root.

Nino's been with some pretty damn wealthy clients before, but ever since he's started taking referrals, he's also been with guys who didn't have a lot, who had to save up just to afford a night with someone like him. He's also been with clients who start off cheap and gradually sink more and more into their sessions once they realize that Nino is worth every damn yen. He's learned to expect nothing from any given session except for his normal fee, and anything on top of that is a delightful bonus.

But he's also learned that the clients who have serious money are usually pretty eager to flaunt it, pulling out all the stops right off the bat. Jun, on the other hand, seems to be revealing his hand in bits and pieces. He certainly wasn't stingy that first time, but nothing about him screamed "rich as sin." Now he's shelling out for five-star hotel rooms and extravagant gifts, and Nino can't help but wonder.

Of course, it's none of his business, and he himself always makes a point of being as opaque as possible. No last names, no incriminating personal details, only what's needed to move the session forward. He and Jun have both stuck to that, but last night, whether he meant to or not, Jun slipped up in a big way. He revealed so much of himself: a glimpse into his work life, a hint at even more wealth than Nino had originally thought, the vulnerable admission that he cares about more than just Nino's body...

Yet somehow Nino feels like he knows less than he did before, and even the knowledge that it's none of his concern doesn't ease his curiosity.

~
The fancy hotels become a staple of their sessions. Sometimes they revisit ones they've been to before, and they often try out new ones, but they never return to the love hotels. Jun continues to deposit money into the account he shared with Nino, which is, as Nino suspected it would be, set up under a false name. Now he pays in advance, as soon as they confirm the session, and he usually leaves a little extra on top of Nino's normal fee.

One week, he books a session and then has to cancel the night before, messaging Nino to let him know something had come up at work. Keep the payment, he insists. My apologies for the inconvenience. So Nino takes the night off and takes Aiba and his boyfriend out to dinner.

"This guy must really like you," Aiba says, eyes huge as a boat full of sashimi arrives to their table. Nino's going all out tonight.

"Something like that," he says.

Ohno suddenly perks up, mouth already full around a chunk of hamachi. "Is he cute?"

~
The following week, Jun keeps his appointment, even books the same hotel like he wants to recreate what he missed the last time.

They're lying in bed, naked atop the sheets. The room is illuminated only by the city lights casting in between the open curtains, bathing everything in a faint orange glow that shimmers off the lacquered posts of the bedframe, the embroidered accents on the duvet.

Jun slicked up his fingers and worked them into Nino one by one, made him come just like that, but now it seems like it happened forever ago. Nino is already hard again, writhing impatiently as Jun explores his body like he's trying to memorize every inch of it. He leaves imprints of his teeth on Nino's ankle, then slowly works his way back up, skirting his tongue past Nino's knees, his waist, his nipples, all the way to his clavicle.

"Kazu." His voice is a warm, lush whisper against Nino's skin. "Kazu -- tell me what you want."

"Fuck me," Nino breathes. It's a line, but it's not insincere. He's been ready for Jun to fuck him since he walked through the door.

Jun is moving again, trailing kisses down Nino's chest. "No, not just that. Let me give you something special." He gets his teeth around one of Nino's nipples, tugs just enough to make Nino gasp. "Tell me."

Nino reaches to stroke a hand through Jun's hair. "Jun," he says, and Jun looks up at the sound of his name, his eyes big, waiting. "I just want you."

Another line, another dime-a-dozen sentiment that wouldn't be genuine if he were telling it to nearly anyone else.

But he's not telling it to anyone else.

And Jun reacts perfectly: he crawls up the length of Nino's body, leans down to capture Nino's mouth in a fierce kiss, finds that his hips fit like a puzzle piece between Nino's thighs as he reaches blindly for the condom on the nightstand.

Later, while Nino is still lounging naked on the bed, Jun stands in front of the mirror over the dresser and fusses with his hair. "I was serious before," he says. "I want to buy you something special. Something you'll like."

Nino moves onto his side, propping his chin on his hand for a better view of the way Jun's dress shirt hangs off his shoulders. "I've liked everything you've bought me."

"I mean it," Jun says. He catches Nino's eye in the mirror, offering a smile.

Nino racks his brain, but nothing is jumping out at him. Honestly, the whole thing feels a little off. He doesn't know why, but he can't shake the little tug of uneasiness in the back of his mind. He watches Jun for a few moments longer, then finally says, "I'll think about it. Ask me again next time."

That makes Jun happy for now. He walks over to the bed so he can grasp Nino's chin, so he can tilt his face up as he leans down, their mouths meeting in the middle. It feels more like the beginning of something than a goodbye. When Jun pulls away, Nino feels tingly all over.

"Enjoy the room," Jun says, straightening back up. Nino's eyes stay locked on him all the way to the door, until it swings shut behind him.

~
Nino does think about it later, lying in the plush comfort of the hotel bed, and later again, at home, strumming his guitar out on the balcony. He gets no closer to an answer for Jun's question, nor to figuring out what that odd, unsettling feeling is. Usually he would be ecstatic at a client's offer to buy him something, anything at all -- and if Jun's recent spending is anything to go by, the upper limit on this hypothetical gift must be pretty high. And Nino is happy about it, in a distant, in-the-background kind of way. If he thinks only about that part of it, the request, the fact that Jun wants to spend all this money on him just because he can... yeah, that part's pretty hot.

Trying to come up with an answer is the part he's feeling weird about.

"I just don't know what to tell him," he complains to Aiba over take-out at his place later that week. Talking about clients is always an at-home affair.

"Just tell him what you want," Aiba says, like it's the simplest thing in the world. "Obviously he wants to get something for you as a person, not you as a sex god or whatever."

"A sex god," Nino snorts. "Aiba-chan, you're not helping."

Aiba shrugs, reaching across the table for the pad thai. "Look, your whole thing is rich guys spending money on you, and now here's this rich guy you especially like who wants to spend a lot of money on you, and he's asking you with basically no limitations exactly how you want him to do it. If that doesn't make you jump for joy, I don't know how to help you."

Aiba's right, but only on the most superficial level.

"That's kind of the thing, though." Nino slumps against the table and tries to frame it in a way that Aiba can understand, so that maybe Aiba can help him understand. "Like, it would be better if he did just want to buy sex stuff. That's easy."

"But why does him wanting it to be personal make it harder?"

It finally clicks. That's exactly the problem: Jun wants to make it more personal, but what makes all of this work for Nino is that nothing is personal. Every move he makes is with the purpose of remaining opaque, revealing absolutely nothing about himself. Opening up to Jun now, even if it's just about some special interest or soft spot, feels like giving up too much.

With this in mind, he tells Aiba, "It's not like I can ask him to buy me a video game console or a lifetime subscription to Shonen Jump. That would be ridiculous." It's only a glimpse of the truth he's just unraveled, but it's all Aiba needs to know for now.

"But you asked him for a guitar, didn't you?"

"I didn't ask him for that," Nino sighs. "He just... I mentioned it in passing and he went out and bought it all on his own. And besides, that's different. Musicians are hot, Aiba-chan, jeez, it's not the same as telling him I sit around playing video games on my days off."

"But that's what he wants, Nino. This is his way of saying he'd like to know you better."

"Well maybe I don't want him to!"

Aiba levels him with A Look, the kind that says Do you even hear yourself right now? "Fine," he says, "then just ask him to buy you a car -- holy shit, Nino, you should totally ask him to buy you a car!"

Nino throws a napkin at Aiba's head. "Don't be stupid! You just want me to do that so you can ask me for a ride all the time!"

"I'm telling you, it would be great!"

Aiba just doesn't get it. That's the conclusion Nino arrives to as they spend the next hour talking in circles, with constant interludes dedicated to how Nino should definitely absolutely ask for a shiny sports car.

But Nino can't blame him. The more he thinks about it on his own, the more he starts to realize that he doesn't really get it either.

~
It should be simple. The logic is right there, laid out easily enough that a kid could see it.

On one hand -- the far easier explanation -- Nino wants to remain hidden. He works so hard to keep every piece of himself locked away, safe and out of sight, and undoing any of that would be too much of a risk. Asking Jun for something he truly wants is simply off the table.

On the other hand -- the explanation Nino is less thrilled about dissecting -- he doesn't know what to tell Jun because he doesn't care. In the past, men have always just bought him nice clothes or sex toys or vintage wine, and even if those aren't the kinds of things Nino would ever buy for himself, he's always loved it because it's not about the things. With a few exceptions, Nino doesn't even like things. It's about the act, the knowledge that some powerful man just went out and blew a bunch of money on him just because he could, just because Nino wanted him to. For Nino, that's the height of romance, the very peak of sexual thrill. The details are entirely inconsequential.

But even that is sometimes too much for him to think about head-on.

The even uglier truth, the shameful secret that he has never admitted to anyone, not even Aiba, is that his walk-in closet full of past gifts isn't just a trophy collection. That's what Aiba calls it, and in a way it is true, but that name doesn't capture the whole picture. It doesn't capture how Nino has a dresser shoved into a corner of his bedroom for his personal clothes so that the suits and ties and costumes he's been gifted can have their own special place. It doesn't capture how just thinking of the shelves lined with sex toys gets him hard in a way that has nothing to do with what they're for or the memory of how he's used them. It doesn't even come close to capturing how sometimes, when he's having a slow work week or when he's feeling antsy or bored, he'll walk in there and jerk off because nothing in his life has ever turned him on more than what's in that room. Nothing will ever affect him the way he is affected by a bunch of things, things that at this point must collectively be worth hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of yen, purely because of how they came to be his.

Nino has never felt ashamed of what he does, but he's a little ashamed of this, somewhere deep inside himself. He knows it's crazy, knows it says something about him that he doesn't care to analyze. And trying to explain it to Jun, even if he left out every detail about the physical collection -- simply admitting to this part of himself, no matter the extent -- would in itself be too much of a confession.

So the solution is obvious: lie. If he doesn't want to reveal anything about himself, and the things Jun buys him don't matter at all, then the logical answer is to just make something up. He could go with Aiba's idea and tell Jun to buy him a car, or a high-rise apartment, or a hundred-year supply of fine sake brewed from some ancient recipe, who the fuck cares.

But for some reason, he can't bring himself to do it.

He can't do it, and worse, he can't figure out why, and that's the part that drives him crazy. With any other client, this wouldn't be so hard, wouldn't even be an issue. But now...

It's as if Jun has gotten the upper hand somehow, like he's wrested some minute but invaluable amount of control from Nino, and Nino can't win it back because he doesn't even know when or how he lost it in the first place. When did his feelings for Jun get so muddled up? When did he stop being able to think about this clearly?

After a fretful night of sleep, filled with absurd nightmares in which he tells Jun to buy him increasingly ridiculous things like a life-sized sculpture of Frieza and "a sports car for my buddy Aiba-chan," Nino is tired of thinking about it. He hunches over his morning coffee and wishes he could just erase that night, sweep the whole thing under the rug.

And somehow, magically, as if he had wished it on a shooting star or the downy seeds of a dandelion, his wish comes true.

~
A week passes without any word from Jun. Nino allows himself a moment of selfish relief, and then he moves on to the rest of his day.

Jun doesn't make an appointment the next week, either.

Or the week after.

Or the week after that.

Nino isn't worried, mostly because he's aggressively not thinking about it. He fills his time with other clients, continues to fill the shelves in his closet with gifts he didn't have to ponder at all, still strums his guitar on the evenings when he needs to wind down and absolutely does not think about where it came from. He is pleased, as always, to have gotten what he wanted.

It's Aiba who finally brings it back to his attention one day.

Ohno's supposed to be at the dance studio until evening, so Nino is keeping Aiba company with beer and video games until he returns. They're in the middle of a Smash Bros match when Aiba says, "Hey, did you ever figure out what to tell that guy?"

"I don't know who you're talking about," Nino lies.

"You know, the one who wanted to buy you something special. You haven't been driving around a brand new car without telling me, have you?"

"Oh, that. It never came up."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Aiba tilt his head like a confused puppy. When he doesn't elaborate, Aiba asks, "What do you mean? Why not?"

"He never got back in touch with me."

"What, that sucks! Who makes that kind of offer and then just bails?"

Nino shrugs. "Whatever, it's fine. He must have just gotten busy, or had a change of heart, or... whatever. It's not my business. I mean, literally, Aiba-chan, it is no longer relevant to my actual profession."

"It doesn't bother you?"

Nino is so distracted by trying to kick Aiba's in-game ass that he finds himself saying, "If anything, it's kind of a relief not having to think about it."

He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth, and doubly so when Aiba actually turns away from the screen to stare at him with that same Do you even hear yourself? look from before. Nino glances at him, then back at the TV, feeling his face pull into a frown entirely beyond his control.

"Seriously?" Aiba asks.

Nino snaps, "Just drop it," and Aiba does because he's a good friend. Still, Nino feels so scatterbrained that he loses the match and can't recover, and for the rest of the day he feels prickly, defensive. He tries to shake it off, but the same thought keeps circling back around to the forefront of his frazzled mind. What's so wrong with being relieved about it?

~
After a month of silence, the message finally comes on a balmy Tuesday morning, his phone buzzing noisily in his hand as he reviews his schedule for the day. He sees Jun's name pop up on his screen and nearly spits his coffee out.

Can we meet tonight? I know it's last minute. I'll pay double.

After all this time telling himself he's grateful to be done with it, Nino is downright horrified to catch himself thinking, I'd agree for half.

~
Jun plays coy with the details, insisting he pick Nino up at the cafe where they used to begin their sessions. That's the first clue that something odd is afoot.

The second clue is when Jun tells him in a message, Almost there. The driver thinks we're meeting for work. Nino wonders why Jun would care what the driver thinks, and then he realizes it must be someone Jun knows, not just a normal taxi.

There are many clues to come, but he stops keeping track after the third, which is that when Jun finally pulls up in a black luxury car so shiny that Nino can see his reflection in it, he's wearing a goddamn three-piece suit. It looks unfairly attractive on him, too: black all over to offset the stark white dress shirt, the pop of the purple tie, everything fitted to perfection. Fuck, Nino missed him.

He has about ten million questions, but he glances at the driver -- an actual chauffeur, with a little hat and everything -- and saves them all for later. He looks at Jun, who's steadfastly looking out the window, the very picture of forced nonchalance, and runs a dozen possible greetings through his head. He finally settles on "I feel a little under-dressed."

Jun looks over at him, unable to keep a grin off his face. "Don't worry about it. I just came from a party."

That makes Nino feel a little more at ease about this whole ball-gown-and-carriage thing, but it opens up other questions as well: What kind of party? Why did he come straight from there? Where the hell has he been this whole time?

Nino buckles in, trying to wrap his head around everything that's going on as they pull back onto the street. Finding a way to talk about these things in front of the driver would actually make it easier on him, would give him an excuse to keep things as superficial as possible, but when he's already feeling so off-kilter, saying nothing at all might be the better option.

So instead, he sits back and keeps his mouth shut. He tries to breathe out all the worry, all the confusion, all the uncertainty about where they're going, where they stand, all of it. He allows himself to do nothing but take in the simple joy of seeing Jun again, knowing they'll be alone soon. They ride without speaking a word, accompanied only by the hum of the traffic outside and the uneven beat the driver is tapping out on the steering wheel.

The hotel they finally arrive to is one they haven't been to before, but from the looks of it, it's on the high end of high-end, outrageously ritzy with lush greenery lining the walkway up to the lobby, sculptures reminiscent of Greek goddesses spilling water into glittery fountains. Nino gets a little buzz just looking at it. That feeling builds as they walk through the breathtaking lobby, and it makes him feel antsy and eager as they ride the elevator up to their floor surrounded by half a dozen chatty guests.

His patience pays off the instant the door to their room is closed. He barely has time to drop his bag into the chair beside the door before Jun shoves him up against it, already pawing at Nino's jacket, devouring his surprised "Oh--!" in a kiss that Nino is thrilled to reciprocate.

The jacket comes off, then his belt, both flung in different directions. Jun wrenches his zipper open and pulls out of the kiss to growl, "Condom."

Nino grabs for his bag, luckily still within reach, and fishes a condom out of the front pocket where he always keeps them. He wonders if Jun is going to fuck him against the door -- just the thought sends a little jolt running through him -- and if he'll need to take his pants off, but when he hands the condom over, Jun tears it open and starts rolling it onto him. Before Nino can ask, Jun's kissing him, curling his fingers tight in the hair at the back of Nino's neck, holding Nino's mouth on his like he wants to swallow down every helpless noise Nino makes as Jun jerks him off in fast, relentless strokes.

Jun makes him moan, makes him come, and then holds him up for the few blissful seconds that he feels boneless and limp, waves of tingly pleasure washing from his thighs down to his toes. Jun noses at his neck, kisses his jaw, and meanwhile Nino manages to pull himself together enough to slip the condom off and tie it without spilling anything.

"Good thinking," he says, still a little breathless.

Jun kisses him, smiling against his mouth. "Didn't want to make a mess."

Nino flings the condom towards the waste bin in the corner, then turns them around so Jun is against the door. He leans on his tiptoes to kiss Jun's mouth as his hands work on Jun's belt, and as he sinks to his knees, he whispers, "I can think of another way to accomplish that."

~
Afterwards, Nino picks up their belts and jackets to drape over the back of a chair as Jun takes out his wallet, his phone, his cufflinks, setting them all on the nightstand by the bed. They finally collapse onto the mattress and lie there next to each other, just breathing.

Jun huffs out, "I didn't plan on getting to that so soon."

Nino laughs and rolls over to face Jun, who's smiling, loose, somehow even more beautiful than Nino remembered. "That's okay," Nino says. "We have all night."

Jun's smile widens into a grin as he sits up. "Do you want some champagne?"

When Nino lifts his head off the pillow, he sees that there's a bucket over on the dresser, an opened bottle sticking out of it, two glass champagne flutes set beside it. Jun must have called ahead.

All the curiosity and the questions come rolling back, prompting Nino to choose his next words carefully. "Is tonight special?"

Jun completely evades the question, just gets on his feet and heads for the dresser, rolling his sleeves up as he goes. "Sorry for disappearing, by the way," he says. "Work's been crazy. We got caught up in this huge deal and then the other side kept wavering back and forth on the details. I spent the last week in Seoul just trying to hash it out."

As he's pouring the champagne, his phone lights up and vibrates, just once, still on the nightstand where he left it. Nino reflexively glances over, not even thinking about it, and although he doesn't mean to read the message -- he really, truly doesn't -- the characters on the screen are so recognizable that he registers their meaning before he can stop himself.

Happy Birthday, Jun-kun~!!

He looks away immediately, but he feels like he just stuck his fingers in an electrical socket. His mind flashes to the bank account Jun set up for them -- the PIN for the online access. 0830.

Today is August 30th.

Fuck.

Jun is walking back to the bed, two champagne flutes in hand. "I finally flew back in this morning. I knew I had to see you."

Nino takes the glass Jun offers, smiling back despite how fucking crazy this all suddenly seems.

The phone on the nightstand buzzes again. Nino forces himself to keep his eyes up as Jun glances down at it, then reaches to dismiss the message and flip the phone over, screen-side down. He looks back to Nino and tilts his glass forward, offering a toast. "To being back home."

Nino clinks his glass to Jun's. "Welcome back."

They get comfortable together on the bed, both of them leaning back against the headboard with their legs stretched out in front of them. Nino asks about Jun's trip to Seoul, but he's only half-listening. Inside, his mind is racing, trying to piece together everything he's just learned. Jun just spent a month locking down what must have been a monumentally important deal -- for whom? Some big-name company he works for, clearly, and apparently a multinational one. He just got back this morning... Holy shit, Nino thinks, starting to feel a little numb. The party he came here from. It must have been for him.

I knew I had to see you, he said. What, as a birthday present to himself? That's simultaneously so heartbreaking and so insane that Nino is having trouble wrapping his head around it. Why the hell is this mega-attractive, ultra-rich businessman -- someone who travels the continent for business, someone who is clearly cherished enough by the people around him that they'd throw him a party, send him well-wishing messages on his birthday -- spending it here with Nino?

Nino's heart is beating so hard he's afraid he might start shaking. He can't calm down, can't figure it out. All he can do is keep a smile on his face and hope, pray Jun doesn't notice.

As Nino is mentally flipping out, Jun is wrapping up his story about Seoul and all the sights he saw, all the dishes he ate. He conveniently left out any detail whatsoever about his actual work, which Nino appreciates after the landmine he just inadvertently stumbled over.

"It all sounds amazing," Nino says, leaning his head back against Jun's shoulder, just to give himself a few more seconds before he has to look Jun in the eye.

Jun's hand touches his shoulder, his thumb tracing over the curve of it. "Mm. Next time I'll have to take you with me."

Nino is so shell-shocked that the weight of that statement doesn't even register. All he's thinking is, I need to do something. I need to do something.

He sits up in a rush, snatching the empty glass from Jun's hands so he can set it on the nightstand along with his. He settles himself in Jun's lap, and thankfully Jun doesn't question it, just runs his hands up Nino's sides, leans into the kiss Nino offers. They've been seeing each other like this for long enough that Nino knows Jun's refractory period pretty well, knows he's close to ready for another round. He pulls back, holding Jun close by the collar of his shirt so they're still just a breath apart.

"What do you want tonight?" Another kiss, another few seconds to fill in the blanks in his plan. "It's special after all --" Shit. He mentally kicks himself, then steamrolls right past it: "A celebration for your successful return home."

Jun initiates the kiss this time, holding Nino close. When Nino pulls away to see Jun's face, Jun is looking up at him through his eyelashes, biting his lip like he's holding something back.

Nino kisses him again, grinds down against him, feels Jun's cock stirring. He whispers against Jun's lips, "Tell me."

After a long moment of silence, Jun pulls him closer, close enough that Nino can't see his eyes when he says, "Make me believe it."

Nino's heart clenches in his chest. If that's what Jun wants, that's what he'll do. He'll give it everything he's got.

~
He undresses Jun piece by piece, worships every inch of revealed skin: his lush mouth framed by beauty marks, the smooth incline of his throat down to the dip of his collarbones, the broad line of his shoulders, the swell of his biceps and the jut of his wrists, his toned stomach out to his narrow waist, his knobby knees and the points of his ankles. Nino pays special attention to his lean thighs, his eager cock, and when Jun reaches down to hurry him along, he slips off the bed to find Jun's necktie among the pile of discarded clothing.

"Be patient," he says as he loops the silk around Jun's wrists -- tight enough to hold, gentle enough not to hurt. "Let me take care of you."

He tethers it to the headboard as Jun arches underneath him.

He stands beside the bed and undresses, moving slow so Jun can watch him, so he can see the way Jun's cock drips just at the sight of him.

He strokes Jun's thighs with his hands while he teases with his mouth, and he uses his tongue to drive Jun crazy. He lets all of the worry and the frustration float up out of him so he can focus on nothing but making Jun feel good, making Jun want him -- making Jun believe that Nino wants him just as much -- allowing himself to believe that it's not a lie.

When Jun starts gasping his name, Nino knows he's ready. He makes quick work of the condom and the lube and sinks down all in one go, drawing a moan out of both of them. Bracing himself on Jun's chest, he starts off slow, slower than he knows Jun wants, but he doesn't want there to be room in Jun's head for a single thought. He keeps the rhythm until Jun is losing his mind with it, until his breathless voice cuts through the darkness.

"Kazu, I need to touch you -- please."

He unties Jun's wrists but doesn't let him go. Instead, he links his fingers through Jun's and holds them down against the mattress, keeping them connected as he lies his forehead down on Jun's chest, lets his mind go blissfully blank as Jun fucks up into him. All he knows is Jun inside of him, the electric space between them, the frantic drumbeat of Jun's heart where he feels it against his skin, all along their bodies, pulsing through the seam of their fingers locked together as Jun comes.

~
They lie spooned up against each other afterwards, listening to the muffled sounds of the city living at full speed outside their quiet, dark space. Nino drifts in the pleasant soreness of his body, the slowed-down buzzing in his mind.

Jun slings his arm over Nino's bare waist, above the sheets draped over their hips. He asks, "Have you decided what you want?"

It's been so long, and tonight has been such a mindfuck, that Nino almost doesn't remember what he's talking about. Then it comes back to him. I want to buy you something special. The confusion and indecision of the past month rush through his head all at once. Now, in the face of everything that's happened, there's one thing he knows for certain: he needs to know more about Jun.

He makes an impulsive decision, doesn't let himself think twice.

"Dinner. With you."

Behind him, Jun goes very still. Nino turns around, wanting to see his face. It's dark, but in the city glow seeping through the curtains, he can see the whites of Jun's eyes, wide and uncertain.

"That's what you want?"

Nino reaches to stroke his fingers along the curve of Jun's jawline. "Absolutely."

Jun just watches him for a moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Finally he says, "I'll make a reservation for this weekend. Any preferences?"

"Whatever you want to treat me to," Nino says -- another impulse.

At that, Jun smiles, settling his arm a little more tightly around Nino's waist. Nino scoots closer, kisses him, and when they pull away, Jun presses his lips to the corner of his mouth, his chin, his jaw. He rolls them over so Nino's lying on his back, and he says against the still-damp skin of Nino's throat, "I look forward to it."

~
Jun showers and gets dressed, slipping the wrinkled tie into his pocket. He stops by the bed to kiss Nino goodbye, and on his way out the door, he looks over his shoulder to say, "Enjoy the room." It's the same as always.

But Nino doesn't stay. He showers quickly, gathers up his things, grabs the first cab home and fidgets the whole way there. He grabs the emergency pack of cigarettes from the pot of fake flowers on his balcony and chain-smokes over the railing, trying to puff all his anxiety out into the city air. Fuck, he keeps thinking, just that one curse, over and over like an ill-fated mantra: Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He never intended to take it this far, but then he went and learned too much, acted too quickly without thinking of the consequences. Now he's in over his head and there's no turning back.

He just has to see it through.


Part 2