by Kit Miller

The moan that came out of Matt’s mouth was, frankly, wanton. He closed his eyes and practically shuddered in bliss. This, this right here, was pleasure, distilled and purified. Matt swallowed and went back for another taste. 

“I take it they’re good,” said Sinéad, Matt’s best friend of over a decade. 

Matt opened his eyes and grinned at her. “They are fucking fantastic, Sinéad, my dear.”

With a wry smile, she tossed her twist braids over her shoulder. She knew her brownies were good. “You’ve got crumbs on your face.”

He wiped them away. “Are you just here to drop these off or to work?”

“Work. Can you make me an oat-milk cappuccino?”

“Absolutely.” Matt took another brownie and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth before he washed his hands and turned to the espresso machine.

Sinéad leaned on the counter. “Do you have work tonight?”

She did not mean Matt’s job here at the coffee shop. Matt moonlighted as a sex worker. Or, rather, he was a sex worker who daylighted as a barista. The sex work was what he considered his real vocation, the work that he found fulfilling and satisfying. The coffee shop job just helped him pay the bills.

“Yep.” Matt had to raise his voice over the hiss of the milk frother. “My gentleman caller is back in town.” It was an alias for a regular client of his. He did not reveal his clients’ names, not even to Sinéad. 

Sinéad laughed, and if Matt was not mistaken — and he didn’t think he was — she relaxed. “I see. Have fun, then. What emoji is it tonight?”

“Let’s say a pizza slice?”

“Sure.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Sinéad.”

The emoji thing had been Sinéad’s idea, of course. Just before he met his clients, he would text her he’d arrived, and four hours later, he texted her the agreed-upon emoji, basically as an ‘all clear.’ This way, Sinéad could be absolutely sure it was him texting her and not someone who’d stolen his phone. If Matt did not text her the emoji in time, she would contact the police. Sometimes, Matt thought it a little bit of an overkill — he definitely didn’t for a moment believe he needed it for this particular client — but then he remembered just how risky his chosen profession was, and then he was just glad he had her to rely on. This worry for him was, Matt guessed, also why she had relaxed when he told her his client tonight was the aptly named ‘gentleman caller.’ She knew Matt trusted this one. And for all her worry, she did trust Matt’s judgement. It had only failed him twice in his entire career; and of course, both times she’d been there, picked up his pieces, and put him back together.

The door opened and a customer came in, her thermos coffee cup at the ready. Sinéad took her brownies away — not without leaving a last one for Matt — then took her laptop and went to sit in her favourite spot, working on whatever translation she’d been hired to do while Matt got back into customer-service-mode.

For the next several hours, as Matt and his boss Jane worked tirelessly to provide the local population of students, workers, freelancers and couples-on-a-first-date with the coffee they needed to function, he would occasionally glance over to where Sinéad was sitting. And occasionally, when he went past her table to collect used dishes, he would nick a brownie from her, until, alas, they were all gone.

“I’ll make more,” she said when he lamented this fact. “But you do realise you didn’t leave any for Raul?”

In dismay, Matt blinked down at the empty plate. “Oh. Dammit.”

She smirked and reached into her bag, producing a tupperware container filled to the brim with more brownies. “These are all for him. All right? You’ve had your share.”

“Understood,” Matt replied, taking the tupperware. “I love you.”

She smiled, her gaze already back on her laptop. “I love you too, Matt.”

*

Matt liked sex. In fact, he loved sex. He was not someone who did sex work because it was their only option to make rent; he did sex work because he wanted to. Connecting with someone else on such an intimate level, and with so many different people, in such a myriad of ways — Matt didn’t think he’d ever tire of it. Plus, it was just plain enjoyable. In Matt’s opinion, since sex felt so good, it could not possibly be wrong or bad. In short, he was a classical hedonist.

Though for all his idealism, Matt wasn’t naïve. He knew the dangers and risks, and he was keenly aware of the stigma. Only a handful of his friends knew he was a sex worker, and not a single member of his family did. He would rather flee the country than tell them.

Not every time was great; sometimes it was awful. Sometimes, it was exhausting in more than one way. He did not put on a fabricated persona; he still remained very much himself — maybe a little flirtier, a little bolder, a little spicier, but still, fundamentally, himself. But, at the end of the day, it was still a job, he was still a professional, and the fact remained that he had to perform not only sexually, but emotionally. Sex-worker-Matt was a facet of himself, no less true than barista-Matt or best-friend-Matt or boyfriend-Matt, but still only a facet. On occasion, it was difficult having to maintain it when he’d rather be a different one.

Tonight, though — tonight, he had been looking forward to since the day the booking had come through. He was abuzz with anticipation on the entire subway ride to the hotel.

It was a different one than the ones Charles usually stayed in when he was in town. This one was even more expensive. Matt, as instructed, let the reception call Charles’ room. While they did that, he sent a quick text to Sinéad that he’d arrived. She immediately sent back a thumbs-up emoji. Then, when the receptionist told him Charles was coming down to pick him up, he said thank you and waited. He began to pace, but stopped when one of the receptionists gave him A Look, and instead fiddled with his phone. Matt was not good at waiting, especially not when he’d already been waiting for days. Damn, he hadn’t realised he’d been missing his nights with Charles.

“Hello, Matt.”

He looked up; a man just into his forties with prematurely gray hair and a carefully groomed beard was smiling at him in greeting, one hand in the pocket of his tailored chinos. Matt put his phone away. “Charles, hi.” Charles leaned over and Matt let his cheek be kissed. The hotel receptionists, for their part, looked bored.

“New place,” Matt said as Charles led him to the elevator.

“Yes, I was promoted in the spring,” Charles replied, pressing the call button. “Apparently that means I’m entitled to a larger chunk of the travel budget.”

“Are you complaining, honey?”

“Not in the least, my dear.”

They chatted amicably on the way to Charles’ room. Matt and Charles went back a while, so long that Matt still charged him the ridiculously low rate he’d had years ago. He’d raised it since then, but even the new rate would be pocket change for Charles. Charles travelled a lot for business, and came to Matt’s city about three or four times a year. He’d hit Matt up a few days in advance, got them some takeout, and then they’d have fun. It suited them both: Matt loved food almost as much as he loved sex, and he liked having regulars; it was nice to have a general idea of what to expect. Charles, for his part, had told Matt his frequent travels weren’t the best conditions for having a steady partner, and he liked having regulars, too. It approximated the sort of familiarity and intimacy he’d have with a partner, which, for now, was enough.

Even though he had flushed bright red when Matt had bluntly and correctly guessed Charles had a ‘whore in every port.’

“Would you like to eat first?” asked Charles, beeping his key card and holding the door open. “I got us Korean. Gimbap for you; did I remember that right?”

“I love gimbap,” Matt said, entering the room. He kicked his sneakers off and shoved them into the corner of the room. “Let’s eat first. Oh, wow!” Matt had expected white styrofoam takeout containers, but Charles presented him his gimbap on an actual porcelain plate.

“Yes, I asked the hotel staff if I could borrow a few dishes. I don’t know, but it just felt a little… wrong to eat from takeout containers in a room like this.” He swept his arm around the elegantly furnished room, gleaming white and metallic under the soft lights. He smiled sheepishly. “Though we will still have to sit on the bed to eat, I’m afraid.” There was only a single chair here, though that, Matt guessed, cost as much as all chairs Matt had at his home put together. 

“Thank you. That’s all right.” Matt climbed onto the gigantic bed. The sheets, tugged tightly under the mattress, were silk-soft under his hands. “Gosh, but they really spared no expense for you this time.”

Charles laughed. “Well, they know I’m very good at my job.” He put his plate on his knee; he had got himself some chapchae. They ate while Charles told Matt about his promotion, and how work had gone since they’d last met, and the three-day hiking trip he’d been on in August. Matt was more than happy to nod and make attentive noises while stuffing himself on what was quite possibly the best gimbap he had ever had.

Before long, the plates were empty. Charles stacked them away and produced two cups of strawberry bingsu, a little worse for wear after too long in the fridge since it had been made, but still delicious. “You spoil me,” said Matt, kissing his cheek as he took the cup and spoon from him. 

“Yes, I do,” Charles replied, settling down with his own portion so that their knees touched. “I enjoy it.”

“Hm. I’m not complaining.” As he sucked the spoon clean, Matt thought that if all that Charles were intending to do tonight was feed him, that would be fine by him.

That was far from what Charles had in mind, of course. Once the bingsu was gone and neatly put away, Charles settled down opposite Matt. For a moment, he just looked at him, taking him all in. Matt leaned back, letting himself be looked at. He knew he was good-looking. Some of it was genetic, some of it was his own care. He was very good at his job, too.

Charles’ hand came to rest on Matt’s thigh. He scooted closer, took Matt’s jaw in his hand, and kissed him without any more preamble. Matt cupped the back of his head and pulled him closer. He tasted of strawberries and spice and of himself. They made out for a good long while, languidly and just enjoying themselves. Charles’ beard was neat but still scratched, though Matt didn’t mind that one bit. If anything, he’d always had a thing for beards. Charles took the hem of Matt’s shirt, Matt lifted his arms, and Charles pulled the shirt off him.

“You’ve got new piercings?” Charles asked, leaning closer to see the barbell piercings in Matt’s nipples better.

“Yep. Can you tell what it is?”

“It’s…” Charles frowned. Then he laughed. “Aw, it’s a sushi roll! That’s adorable.” He gently touched it, then leaned in and ran his tongue over Matt’s nipple. Matt sighed and put his hand to the back of Charles’ head. He’d not worn the piercings for weeks, but put them on this morning just for him. Charles so loved playing with them. And Matt loved Charles playing with them. Fuck, it had been too long.

Blindly, Charles fumbled for Matt’s crotch. Matt slipped off the bed to chuck his jeans, then went right back to Charles, opening the buttons on his hand-sewn shirt one by one and trailing kisses along the skin and chest hair he exposed. He enjoyed tossing the shirt away with gleeful disregard of how much it must have cost, and went on to helping Charles rid himself of his chinos. Charles’ beautiful cock, when it was revealed, was beginning to harden, and Matt’s eager hand hurried it along. Charles grabbed the back of Matt’s head and kissed him again, messier this time. One hand closed around Matt’s half-hard dick, and Matt was not ashamed of the needy moan that escaped him.

Somehow, he managed to find the wherewithal to ask, “Do you have anything in mind you’d like to do?”

“You just let yourself be handled, all right?” Charles replied, the words demanding but the tone a sweet suggestion.

“I’m more than happy to be handled, honey,” he replied, because he knew that Charles knew where his boundaries were, and he trusted Charles to be perfectly chivalrous and not even come close to crossing one. “Oh, fuck yes!” Charles had leaned down and was once more nibbling at Matt’s piercings. He’d taken his hand away from Matt’s cock, which was a shame, but his devotion to Matt’s nipples almost made up for it.

Matt only remembered when he felt his cock, untouched, dribble a bit of precome. “Hold on. Hold on. Condoms.” They should use those for the sake of the expensive sheets alone. Matt twisted around to fish for his jeans, but Charles stopped him, grabbing a box of standard Durex from the bed stand drawer. “I got them earlier today, when I went out to get the food,” Charles told him. He knew that Matt was a little twitchy when it came to the use-by date on condoms. He was already unwrapping one, and rolled it down Matt’s hard cock — Matt pushed into his hand rather wantonly, which made him tut in gentle reproach. “So impatient.” He gave Matt a few strokes, far too lightly, until Matt practically whimpered. Then, Charles licked his lips, bent down, and sucked at the head.

“Fuuuck,” Matt breathed, eyes falling shut, one hand in Charles’ hair. “You feel fucking amazing.” Charles was too good at blowjobs, it was unfair. And awesome. If he ever did manage to find that steady partner, that man was going to be one lucky bugger. Matt keened when Charles did that thing with his tongue he’d never quite been able to figure out but that made him see stars. His hand tightened in Charles’ hair, which made Charles chuckle around Matt’s dick, which made Matt moan and curl his toes. 

But before Matt could actually come close to orgasm, Charles just stopped from one moment to the next and sat back up. The betrayal!

“Why’d you stop?” Matt demanded.

Charles chuckled, thumbs flicking once more against Matt’s piercings. Matt sucked in a breath. “Oh, I don’t think you want this to be over yet, do you, my dear?” He took another condom and rolled it over his own cock. Then he took Matt by the waist and pulled him into his lap so that Matt’s back was to Charles’ chest. One of Charles’ hands caressed Matt’s nipples, the other his cock. Matt gasped and pressed his back harder against Charles’ chest. He felt Charles’ erection nestle between his buttocks.

Charles touched the piercing in Matt’s left nipple, a gentle question. When Matt, breathless and wordless, nodded, he began twisting it, pulling at it. Never enough to really hurt, but oh God, just right. Matt reached backwards clumsily, pressing his palm to the back of Charles’ head.Matt moved his hips in time with Charles’ caresses, grinding down on Charles’ hard cock.

“I’m getting there,” Matt gasped out at last, his hips canting into Charles’ hand on their own accord. 

Charles took his hands away.

“For fuck’s sake!” Matt almost wailed.

“Shh, my dear.” Charles nipped at his neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you there. Eventually.”

“Is that a promise?” Matt grumbled. He wasn’t really mad. Charles liked little power trips like this, but Matt had never left anything other than completely sated and satisfied. He just needed to be patient.

And indeed, Charles murmured against Matt’s skin, “It is.” He took Matt’s earlobe between his teeth. This man had an oral fixation you could see from fucking space. 

Matt experimentally moved his ass back and forth, but Charles briefly tightened his hand on his hip. “Let me take care of you,” he said, voice so low it was raspy. “Just relax and enjoy yourself, my dear.”

Easier said than done with an unattended hard-on. Still, Matt obediently took a deep breath and relaxed on the exhale.

His reward was a quiet chuckle from Charles. “There we go, my dear. That’s it.” When he finally took hold of Matt’s cock again, Matt almost cried out in relief. 

Charles’ hands were magic. They certainly were talented enough to feel like they were. Good God, how was Charles still single? Well, lucky for Matt that he was. He pulled Charles closer, closer. Charles’ chest hair scratched against Matt’s back. Their feet kicked against each other every now and then. And Charles was still pulling at Matt’s nipples and running just the very edge of his teeth against the nape of his neck, his shoulders, his earlobes, his neck. Just lightly grazing, not even enough to leave a scratch. And they said chivalry was dead.

“Charles,” Matt gasped. He couldn’t open his eyes even if he wanted to. “Charles, fuck, I’m about to come.”

Charles gave a hum and kissed Matt’s shoulder. “Then come.” With just a few clever twists of his hands, he helped speed him along.

With a moan that came from deep within him, Matt did, his abdomen flexing with the rhythm of it and Charles’ hands soothing him through the aftershocks. Charles murmured something that Matt couldn’t quite make out, but from the tone of voice, he could tell Charles was very pleased indeed. He kissed Matt’s shoulder, letting his lips run over all the spots he’d grazed with his teeth before. Matt made to move off him to return the favor, but Charles lightly tightened his grip on his waist. Matt stayed where he was and let Charles bring himself to completion by thrusting between Matt’s cheeks. Matt felt the moment Charles came, less because he was literally sitting on his cock, and more because of the way Charles’ breath ghosted over his neck. Charles embraced him, his forehead on Matt’s shoulder. Matt leaned his head back. They sat there for a while, limp and floaty, propping each other up.

“Good?” Matt asked after a while, knowing the answer.

Charles confirmed it with a hum. “You?” he murmured.

Matt chuckled in response. One of his hands was resting on Charles’ thigh without him really being aware of putting it there.

It was a long time before Charles sat up and let go of him, not without one last kiss to the point where Matt’s jaw met his ear. His face was still flushed, and his hair and beard were wonderfully messed up. He took his and Matt’s condoms to the trash can, then reached for his phone, charging on the bed stand. Matt asked what time it was and Charles told him it was just before midnight.

“Can I use your shower?” asked Matt, subtly flexing his foot to ease a cramp that the arousal and orgasm had masked.

“Sure,” Charles replied, giving him a brief smile before scrolling through the notifications his phone had received while he was occupied. But by the time Matt finished showering and came back into the room, mostly dressed, Charles had turned it off. He, too, went to have a quick shower. Matt waited, perched on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his own phone. His mother had called him, but only once, so he figured it was not an emergency and it would be all right if he only called her back tomorrow.

Charles came back, wearing his pajamas.

“Do you want me to stay a little longer?” Matt asked. Charles had paid for another half hour.

“That’s all right, my dear. You can go home.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling as he did. “Thank you for another wonderful night.”

“And all the same to you.” Matt stood and gave him one last kiss. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear.”

*

Raul, Matt’s boyfriend, was still up when Matt came home. He was on the couch, reading something on his laptop and stroking Gordo, one of their two cats. Mango, the other, was perched on top of the cat tree, surveying his domain. On the coffee table in front of Raul was a plate of tamales. He had one, half-finished and apparently half-forgotten, in his hand. Next to the tamales was an empty tub of vanilla ice cream that, if Matt remembered the contents of their freezer correctly, had still been mostly full earlier today.

Matt sprawled down next to him, wrapping his arms around him. “Why are you still up? Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Raul yawned. “But I wanted to wait for you, so I read just one more paper, and then one turned into, like, five.” He was currently getting a PhD in archaeology, which involved a lot more reading and a lot less digging than Matt would have expected.

“You don’t need to stay up for me when I have work,” Matt reminded him.

“Yeah, I know. I wanted to. Welcome you home and all that.” He twisted and gave Matt a kiss that was awkward because of the angle but no less loving and warm for it. “Welcome home, babe.”

Smiling, Matt lazily kissed the underside of his jaw. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” With one hand, he tickled the space between Gordo’s ears, with the other, he reached for the tamales. Raul always complained about his own cooking, claiming it never came close to how his abuela made it, but to Matt, it was simply delicious. He told him so now, as well. “I’m sure your abuela would be proud of you for these,” he said earnestly. 

Raul chuckled. It was the nicest damn chuckle in the whole world. “You didn’t know my abuela, but thanks for the sentiment all the same. ”

For a while, they were quiet. Only Gordo’s rumbly purr could be heard. “How was work?” asked Raul.

“Fun,” Matt replied sleepily. “As usual with this guy. And Sinéad came by the coffee shop. She made brownies. She gave me a whole container just for you.”

“Nice, thanks,” Raul murmured. He selected the highlighter tool and marked an entire paragraph in neon yellow, then typed a note. And kept typing.

“Are you going to be much longer?” Matt murmured.

“No, it’s only a few more pages.” Raul nudged Matt’s knee with his own. “I’m sorry. You can go ahead to bed if you want to.”

Cuddling closer to his boyfriend, Matt muttered, “Not what I asked.” He yawned. “Wake me when you’re done.”

Yes, Matt thought. Food was nice. Sex was nice. Sex was very nice. But this? This was very nice, too.

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