Couple In Sync | Chapter 17: Brandon, Aaron and Theo
Eun Yoo’s mouth curved against his. “Mackie hyung is asleep,” he whispered. “He won’t know.”
Couple In Sync | Chapter 17: Aaron vs Brandon
Trigger Warning: This chapter contains explicit sexual content (including rough sex, power dynamics, and paid sexual acts), intense emotional distress, graphic descriptions of physical violence and injury, themes of shame, coercion, and financial desperation, and references to past sexual assault. Please read at your own discretion.
I. The Red Lotus
The gym was dead quiet at 10:12 PM.
Aaron Jackson stood in the middle of the empty weight floor, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the row of treadmills that hadn’t been used in weeks. The lights were dimmed to save on electricity he could no longer comfortably afford. Only the red emergency exit signs and the faint blue glow from the front desk monitors kept the place from feeling like a tomb.
Alpha Forge Gym had once been the crown jewel of Silver Lake’s fitness scene. Now it was a ghost town.
No new memberships. Not even with the aggressive discounts he had posted on every social media platform and on the glass doors. The usual crowd of young professionals and gym bros had dried up the moment the Silver Lake Alliance publicly expelled him. Word spread fast in this neighborhood. One day he was respected. The next, he was toxic.
Aaron ran a hand through his tousled dark hair and exhaled slowly through his nose. His green eyes, usually sharp and intense, looked tired tonight. The reflection in the mirror wall showed a man who was still physically powerful — broad chest stretching the black tank top, veined arms, thick thighs in gray sweats — but the fire behind his eyes had dimmed.
He thought about Noah.
His husband had come home late again last night, shoulders slumped, camera bag hanging off one arm like it weighed a hundred pounds. Aaron could still picture it clearly.
Flashback – Two nights ago
The front door had opened quietly at 11:47 PM. Noah stepped inside, curly dark hair messy, big brown eyes dull with exhaustion. He didn’t even call out Aaron’s name like he used to. He just kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag by the door, and walked straight to the kitchen without turning on the lights.
Aaron had been waiting on the couch, a half-finished protein shake in his hand.
“Hey,” he said softly.
Noah jumped a little, then forced a small smile. “Hey. Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”
“You look wiped.”
Noah let out a tired laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Double shoot today. One for that couple’s anniversary set, and then a last-minute boudoir session that ran long. The client kept changing her mind about poses.” He opened the fridge, stared inside for a long moment like he’d forgotten what he was looking for, then closed it again. “I’m fine. Just… tired.”
Aaron had stood up and walked over, wrapping his arms around Noah from behind. Noah leaned back into him immediately, like his body had been waiting for permission to relax.
“You don’t have to keep pushing so hard,” Aaron murmured against his hair. “We’ll figure something out with the gym.”
Noah didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.
“I know. But right now… the photography is what’s keeping the lights on. I can’t afford to turn down jobs anymore.”
Aaron had tightened his hold, guilt twisting in his gut. This wasn’t the life he wanted for his husband. Noah used to come home excited about new concepts, new locations, new ways to capture people. Now he came home drained, treating his passion like another job he had to survive.
Aaron hated it.
He hated that he had brought this on them.
Back in the present, Aaron pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. Tucked behind his driver’s license was the black calling card Tyler had slipped him days ago at the gym.
Billy James
Available for setting up private sessions with “Red Lotus Boys”
Manager
Aaron stared at it for a long moment.
He had told himself he would never use it. That he still had pride. That there had to be another way to save the gym without selling himself.
But the numbers didn’t lie. Rent was due in twelve days. Payroll was already late. If he didn’t do something drastic soon, there wouldn’t be a gym left to save.
With a low curse, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number.
It rang three times before someone picked up.
A bright, theatrical voice answered, dripping with camp.
“Well hello there, sugar! Red Lotus Boys, this is Mama Brenda speaking. How may I make your night absolutely fabulous?”
Aaron blinked. The voice was older, flamboyant, and unmistakably male.
“…I’m looking for Billy James,” he said gruffly.
“Oh honey, Billy’s out recruiting tonight. Left me in charge of the fort. But don’t you worry your pretty little head — Mama Brenda takes very good care of our special guests.” There was a pause, then a knowing little hum. “Wait a second… that deep voice. You’re Aaron, aren’t you? Tyler’s gym daddy. He told me you might call.”
Aaron’s jaw tightened. “Tyler talks too much.”
Mama Brenda laughed, a bright, delighted sound. “Oh he does. But he also has excellent taste. Now, be a dear and send me a recent picture of that gorgeous body of yours. Full body if you can. Mirror selfie is fine. We like to see what we’re working with before we set up anything.”
Aaron hesitated for only a second before walking over to the big mirror wall near the free weights. He held his phone up, took a quick mirror selfie — black tank top stretched across his chest, gray sweats hanging low on his hips, one hand in his pocket, intense green eyes staring straight at the camera.
He sent it.
The reply came almost instantly.
Mama Brenda:
Oh. My. GOD.
Tyler wasn’t exaggerating. You are criminal. Look at those arms. That chest. That face. Mama is having a moment. Give me two seconds to fan myself.
Aaron didn’t smile, but something in his chest loosened slightly at the enthusiastic reaction.
A moment later, another message came through with an address.
Mama Brenda:
Come to the Red Lotus Hotel. It’s a bit outside Silver Lake — very private, very discreet. Ask for the VIP screening. They’ll know what to do when you say Mama Brenda sent you. Be there by 11:30 if you can, sugar.
Aaron frowned at his phone.
Aaron: What the fuck is a screening?
The reply came with several laughing emojis.
Mama Brenda:
Oh honey. It’s just a little… evaluation. We need to see how you move. How you respond. How well you can follow instructions. Nothing scary. You’ll be in very good hands. Think of it as an audition for the big leagues. Red Lotus Boys only takes the best.
Aaron stared at the message for a long moment, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
He hated this.
Hated that he was even considering it.
But the image of Noah coming home exhausted, treating his photography like a second job just to keep them afloat, kept flashing in his mind.
He typed out a quick text to Noah instead.
Aaron: Hey. Something came up. I need to go handle it. Don’t wait up. I’ll explain later.
He waited.
No reply.
Noah was probably passed out already, dead to the world after another long day.
Aaron pocketed his phone, grabbed his keys, and locked up the gym.
Red Lotus Hotel - 12:21 AM
The Red Lotus Hotel sat far outside Silver Lake, tucked into a quiet, wooded area off a long private road. From the outside it looked like an exclusive boutique resort — sleek black and deep red exterior, tall privacy hedges, soft golden lighting along the driveway. No big signs. No obvious advertising. Just a small, elegant plaque near the entrance that read Red Lotus in understated gold lettering.
It was the kind of place that didn’t want to be found unless you already knew it existed.
Aaron parked his car and walked up to the heavy glass doors. The moment he stepped inside, the air changed — cooler, scented faintly with something expensive and woody. The lobby was dim and luxurious, all dark marble and deep red accents. Two large men in black suits stood near the entrance, watching him carefully.
Before he could even speak, one of them stepped forward.
“Name?”
“Aaron Jackson. Mama Brenda sent me.”
The man checked something on a tablet, then nodded once. “VIP screening. Take the private elevator on the left. Floor 20. Someone will meet you.”
Aaron was about to move when a familiar voice called out behind him.
“Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up.”
Tyler Woods was leaning against one of the marble pillars, wearing a tight black shirt that clung to his lean frame and a smug little smile. His eyes lit up when he saw Aaron.
“I knew you’d call,” Tyler said, pushing off the pillar and walking over. “Took you long enough, gym daddy.”
Aaron gave him a flat look. “Don’t call me that.”
Tyler just grinned wider and looped his arm through Aaron’s like they were old friends. “Come on. I’ll take you up. Mama Brenda’s been waiting.”
They stepped into the private elevator. The doors closed with a soft ding, and the car began its smooth ascent. Twenty floors. The ride felt longer than it should have.
Tyler leaned against the mirrored wall, studying Aaron openly.
“Listen,” he said, voice dropping into something more serious. “Before we get up there, there are a few things you should know. Red Lotus isn’t like some cheap escort service. They have standards. So here’s the deal — five things.”
Aaron crossed his arms, already annoyed.
Tyler held up one finger. “One — you do what they ask. No attitude. No ‘I don’t do that’ bullshit unless it’s actually a hard limit. They’ll respect real boundaries, but they don’t like divas.”
Second finger. “Two — you stay in character when you’re with clients. You’re not just Aaron the gym owner up there. You’re whatever they want you to be for the night.”
Third finger. “Three — protection is mandatory. No exceptions. They test everyone regularly, but you still wrap it.”
Fourth finger. “Four — discretion is everything. What happens at Red Lotus stays at Red Lotus. You don’t talk about clients. Ever.”
He held up his thumb for the last one.
“Five — have fun with it. The ones who enjoy themselves make the most money and get the best clients. The ones who act like they’re doing everyone a favor? They don’t last long.”
Aaron stared at him, jaw tight. “I’m not here to have fun, Tyler. I’m here because I need money.”
Tyler’s smile softened just a fraction. “I know. But trust me — the money is good. Really good. And once you get used to it…” He shrugged. “It’s not the worst way to make a living.”
Before Aaron could reply, the elevator slowed.
Tyler suddenly reached up, grabbed the back of Aaron’s neck, and pulled him down into a hard, possessive kiss.
Aaron stiffened in surprise, but Tyler didn’t let go. He kissed him deeply, tongue sliding against Aaron’s, one hand fisting in his dark hair. When the doors finally opened, Tyler only pulled back enough to rest their foreheads together for a second.
Then he turned his head and looked straight at the small group of people waiting for the elevator — two sharply dressed men who looked like staff and three younger guys in tight, revealing clothes who were clearly working there.
Tyler’s voice was loud enough for all of them to hear.
“This one’s mine tonight,” he announced, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Don’t even think about it.”
One of the younger guys smirked but didn’t say anything. The staff simply nodded respectfully.
Aaron’s face burned, but he didn’t pull away. He let Tyler keep his arm around his waist as they stepped out of the elevator and walked down the long, dimly lit hallway toward the VIP offices.
The office at the end of the hall was massive — easily three times the size of a normal hotel suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the dark woods outside. Deep red and black furniture, expensive leather couches, a large desk made of dark wood, and soft golden lighting that made everything feel expensive and dangerous at the same time.
Sitting behind the desk was an older man in his late fifties or early sixties. He was flamboyantly dressed in a silk robe over a crisp white shirt, several gold rings on his fingers, and perfectly styled silver hair. His makeup was subtle but flawless, and when he smiled, it was wide and theatrical.
Mama Brenda.
He stood up the moment Aaron walked in, eyes widening with genuine delight.
“Oh my God,” he breathed, circling the desk slowly. “Tyler, you absolute angel. You didn’t tell me he was this beautiful in person.” He stopped in front of Aaron, looking him up and down like he was appraising fine art. “Are you the gym guy or the architect? Just kidding HAHAHA. Tyler talks a lot about the architect guy though. Well, either way, honey, you are wasted on regular life.”
Aaron didn’t answer. He just stood there, arms still crossed, letting Mama Brenda look his fill.
Brenda clapped his hands together once, delighted. “Welcome to Red Lotus, Aaron. We’re going to take very good care of you.”
Before Aaron could say anything, the door behind them opened again.
An older man in a tailored charcoal suit walked in — late sixties, silver hair, sharp features, and an air of quiet authority. Mr. Wind. One of the hotel’s most important VIP clients.
Mama Brenda’s entire demeanor shifted into something smoother, more professional, but still warm.
“Mr. Wind,” he greeted smoothly. “Perfect timing. I was just about to introduce our newest prospect.” He turned back to Aaron with a knowing little smile. “Aaron already has the looks. Now he just needs to show us the action.”
Mr. Wind’s eyes dragged slowly over Aaron’s body, lingering on his chest and arms before meeting his gaze.
Mama Brenda’s voice was light, almost casual, but there was no mistaking the command underneath.
“Aaron, darling,” he said, gesturing toward Mr. Wind. “Why don’t you let our VIP here suck you? Show us how well you can perform when someone’s paying attention.”
The room went very quiet.
Aaron’s green eyes flicked from Mama Brenda to Mr. Wind, then back again. His jaw tightened. For a long second, he didn’t move.
Then, slowly, he reached down and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his gray sweats.
II. The Price
Aaron stood frozen in the middle of the luxurious VIP office, the weight of every gaze pressing down on him like a physical force.
His heart was hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat. He had known, on some level, what coming here would mean. Tyler had been clear enough when he slipped him the card. But knowing it in theory and standing here in person — with an older, wealthy man already circling him like prey — felt entirely different.
He felt cheap.
The thought hit him hard and ugly. Aaron Jackson, former owner of one of Silver Lake’s most respected gyms, reduced to this. Standing under soft golden lights while strangers negotiated the price of his body. His pride burned hot in his chest, but underneath it was something colder. Shame.
He turned his head slightly and looked at Tyler.
Tyler was leaning against the edge of the large dark wood desk, arms loosely crossed, watching him with a calm, knowing expression. There was no pity in his eyes. Only quiet understanding mixed with a hint of challenge. You already knew what this was, his look seemed to say. Don’t act surprised now.
Aaron’s jaw tightened.
Mama Brenda’s voice cut through the heavy silence, bright and theatrical but edged with something sharper underneath.
“Sweetheart,” he said, stepping closer, “I can see the wheels turning in that handsome head of yours. Let me make this very simple for you.” He paused, letting the moment stretch. “For one night with Mr. Wind here… we’re offering fifty thousand dollars.”
The number landed like a slap.
Aaron’s eyes flicked to Mama Brenda. Fifty thousand. That was more than he made in some weeks when the gym was still thriving. Enough to cover rent. Enough to pay the staff he was already late on. Enough to give Noah some breathing room.
Mama Brenda continued, voice smooth and persuasive.
“That’s base, darling. And that’s just for tonight. If things go well — and I have a very strong feeling they will — there are regular clients who pay even more. Private weekends. Exclusive events. Some of our boys clear six figures in a good month. You get to keep seventy percent. We take care of security, testing, transportation, even a private driver if you want one. No one will ever know your real name unless you choose to share it. Discretion is absolute.”
He gestured elegantly around the room.
“You walk out of here tonight with enough money to keep that gym of yours alive for months. Maybe even turn it around. And all you have to do…” His eyes flicked down Aaron’s body with open appreciation. “…is be exactly what you already are. Strong. Beautiful. Dominant when you want to be. Submissive when the client needs it. You have the body and the face, Aaron. That combination is rare.”
While Mama Brenda spoke, Mr. Wind had moved closer.
The older man was tall, silver-haired, and carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who was used to getting exactly what he wanted. His hand came up slowly, deliberately, and rested on Aaron’s chest. Thick fingers spread over the black tank top, feeling the hard muscle underneath. He gave a low, appreciative hum.
“Jesus,” Mr. Wind murmured, voice rough with age and arousal. “You’re even bigger in person.”
His hand slid lower, tracing the deep cut of Aaron’s abs through the thin fabric. Aaron’s stomach jumped under the touch, but he didn’t pull away. Not yet.
Mr. Wind’s other hand joined the first, both of them now roaming — over Aaron’s chest, down his sides, gripping his waist like he was testing the strength there. The touch was possessive but not rough. Exploratory. Hungry.
Tyler spoke then, voice low and matter-of-fact.
“You’ve already seen what Noah’s going through,” he said quietly. “He’s not just tired, Aaron. He’s begging. I’ve heard it from people. He’s been reaching out to galleries, trying to get his photos into auctions. He’s been cold-calling shops, asking them to carry his work. He’s been taking whatever clients he can get, even the ones who lowball him and make him wait months to get paid.” Tyler’s eyes didn’t waver. “He’s doing all of that because your gym is dying. Because you got kicked out of the Alliance and the clients stopped coming.”
Aaron’s throat felt tight.
He thought about Noah walking through the door at midnight, shoulders curved with exhaustion. About the way Noah had stopped talking about new photography projects and only spoke about paying bills. About how his husband — who used to light up when he talked about his art — now treated it like another job he had to survive.
The shame in Aaron’s chest twisted harder.
Mr. Wind’s hands were still moving. One slid around to Aaron’s lower back, fingers pressing into the muscle there. The other drifted lower, tracing the waistband of his gray sweats before slipping just underneath, palm flat against the warm skin of his lower abdomen.
“I’ll double it,” Mr. Wind said suddenly, voice calm but firm. “One hundred thousand. Tonight. Cash or transfer, whatever you prefer.”
Aaron’s breath caught.
One hundred thousand dollars.
For one night.
His mind spun. That kind of money could change everything. It could give them weeks of runway. It could let Noah breathe again. It could maybe even save the gym if he was smart with it.
But the cost…
Mr. Wind’s hand slid lower still, fingers brushing over the front of Aaron’s sweats, cupping the heavy outline of his cock through the fabric. Even soft, Aaron was thick. Mr. Wind made a low, pleased sound.
“Fuck, look at this,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Already big when you’re not even hard.”
He gave a slow, deliberate squeeze.
Aaron’s body reacted on instinct — a twitch, a rush of blood — even as his mind recoiled.
“I can’t do this,” Aaron said suddenly, voice rough. He took a half-step back, pulling away from Mr. Wind’s hands. “This isn’t… I’m not—”
His voice cracked on the last word.
Tyler didn’t look surprised. He just stepped forward, close enough that only Aaron could hear him clearly.
“You think Noah’s not doing the same thing in his own way?” Tyler asked quietly. “He’s on his knees every day, Aaron. Not literally — but he’s begging. Begging people to buy his photos. Begging them to put his work in shows. Begging clients to pay him on time instead of making him chase the money for months. He’s swallowing his pride every single day because the man he loves fucked up and lost everything.” Tyler’s voice was calm, but there was steel underneath. “You can stand here and act like you’re too good for this. Or you can do what needs to be done so your husband doesn’t have to keep breaking himself just to keep you both afloat.”
Aaron’s hands clenched into fists at his sides.
The words hit hard. Too hard.
Because they were true.
Mr. Wind watched the exchange with calm patience, then spoke again.
“Two hundred thousand,” he said simply. “Tonight. And I’ll make it worth every cent.”
Aaron’s head snapped toward him.
Tyler moved in closer, one hand coming up to rest lightly on Aaron’s chest, right over his heart. His voice dropped into something softer, more intimate.
“Hey,” he murmured. “Look at me.”
Aaron’s green eyes met Tyler’s.
Tyler’s hand slid slowly down Aaron’s torso until it reached the front of his sweats. He cupped Aaron through the fabric, fingers wrapping around the thickening length with confident pressure.
“Focus on me,” Tyler whispered, leaning in until his lips brushed Aaron’s ear. “Not him. Just me.”
Then Tyler kissed him.
It wasn’t soft. It was deep and claiming, tongue sliding against Aaron’s as Tyler’s hand kept working him through his sweats, stroking him to full hardness with slow, deliberate pressure. Aaron’s body betrayed him — cock swelling thick and heavy under Tyler’s palm, hips twitching forward despite himself.
While Tyler kissed him, Mr. Wind lowered himself to his knees with surprising grace for a man his age.
Aaron felt the older man’s hands at his waistband, tugging his sweats and briefs down in one smooth motion. Cool air hit his skin for only a second before warm, wet heat enveloped the head of his cock.
Mr. Wind moaned softly around him, like he’d been waiting for this.
Aaron broke the kiss with Tyler with a sharp gasp, eyes flying down. The sight of the silver-haired man on his knees, lips stretched around his thick cock, sent a violent jolt of conflicting sensation through him — shame, arousal, guilt, and something darker he didn’t want to name.
Tyler kept his hand on Aaron’s chest, grounding him.
“Eyes on me,” he whispered again. “Breathe. Let him do what he paid for.”
Mr. Wind took more of him, throat working as he sank down. He was skilled — no hesitation, no gagging. Just steady, wet suction and the flat press of his tongue along the underside of Aaron’s cock. One of his hands came up to cradle Aaron’s heavy balls, rolling them gently while he sucked.
Aaron’s head fell back for a second, a low groan escaping him before he could stop it.
His mind was a battlefield.
Noah. Think about Noah. This is for him. For the gym. For the life you promised him.
But another voice whispered underneath.
You’re letting an old man suck your cock for money. You’re standing here while he pays to use your body.
The two thoughts warred as Mr. Wind took him deeper, throat fluttering around the thick head of Aaron’s cock. The wet, obscene sounds filled the quiet office. Tyler stayed close, one hand still on Aaron’s chest, the other now stroking slowly along his jaw.
“You’re doing good,” Tyler murmured. “Just feel it. Don’t think.”
Aaron’s hips jerked involuntarily as Mr. Wind swallowed around him again. The older man pulled back just enough to speak, voice hoarse and wrecked.
“Fuck… you taste good,” he rasped, licking a slow stripe up the underside of Aaron’s cock. “So fucking thick. I knew you’d be big.”
Then he sank back down, sucking harder, one hand stroking what he couldn’t fit in his mouth.
Aaron’s breathing grew ragged. His hands flexed at his sides before one of them — almost without his permission — came up to rest on the back of Mr. Wind’s silver head. Not pushing. Just holding.
The pressure built fast.
His balls drew up tight. His cock throbbed heavily against Mr. Wind’s tongue. Every wet pull of the older man’s mouth dragged him closer to the edge whether he wanted it or not.
Tyler leaned in and kissed the corner of Aaron’s mouth, voice low and filthy.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Give it to him. Fill his throat.”
Aaron’s eyes squeezed shut.
With a broken groan, he came hard.
His cock pulsed violently as thick ropes of cum shot down Mr. Wind’s throat. The older man moaned around him, swallowing greedily, throat working as he took every drop. Aaron’s legs shook with the force of it, one hand gripping Mr. Wind’s shoulder now to stay upright.
When it was over, Mr. Wind pulled off slowly, licking his lips like he’d just tasted something expensive.
“Goddamn,” he breathed, voice rough. “You taste even better than you look.”
He looked up at Aaron, eyes dark with satisfaction.
“Three hundred thousand,” he said calmly, like he was discussing the weather. “Tonight. And if you let me fuck you… I’ll make it five.”
Aaron’s green eyes were glassy, chest still heaving. He stared down at the older man kneeling between his feet, cum still glistening on his lips.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
For one night.
Aaron’s voice came out low, rough, and final.
“Make it double,” he said. “And I’ll fuck you tonight. Hard.”
III. The Wrecking
The VIP office felt too bright, too exposed.
Aaron stood there with his sweats still around his thighs, cock wet and half-hard from Mr. Wind’s mouth. The older man was still on his knees, licking his lips like he’d just tasted something expensive. Mama Brenda had quietly stepped out after the offer was accepted, leaving only Tyler leaning against the desk with a small, satisfied smirk.
Mr. Wind rose slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes never left Aaron’s body.
“Follow me,” he said, voice rough.
He led them through a hidden door at the back of the office into a large, private suite. The room was even more luxurious than the office — deep red walls, a massive king-sized bed with black silk sheets, floor-to-ceiling windows covered by heavy curtains, and a private bathroom visible through an open doorway. The lighting was low and warm, casting everything in gold and shadow.
Aaron followed without a word, pulling his sweats back up but not bothering to fasten them. His mind was loud.
This is for Noah. Five hundred thousand dollars. That’s rent. That’s payroll. That’s breathing room.
But another voice, quieter and colder, whispered underneath.
You just let an old man suck your cock for money. And now you’re about to fuck him.
Mr. Wind turned once they were inside the suite and looked at Aaron with open hunger.
“Strip,” he ordered, but there was no real command in it. It sounded more like a plea.
Aaron didn’t move right away. He looked at Tyler, who was still standing in the doorway.
Tyler gave him a small nod. “I’ll be outside if you need anything. Have fun, gym daddy.”
Then he stepped out and closed the door.
Aaron was alone with Mr. Wind.
He exhaled slowly through his nose and pulled his tank top over his head, tossing it aside. His broad chest and thick arms were on full display under the low light. Then he pushed his sweats and briefs the rest of the way down and stepped out of them.
Mr. Wind’s eyes darkened as he took in Aaron’s naked body — the powerful chest dusted with dark hair, the cut of his abs, the heavy cock hanging thick and heavy between his legs, and the strong, thick thighs.
“Fuck,” the older man breathed. “Look at you.”
He stepped closer and reached out, running both hands slowly over Aaron’s chest, feeling the muscle, the warmth of his skin. His fingers traced the lines of Aaron’s abs before sliding lower to wrap around his cock again, stroking it slowly back to full hardness.
“I want you to wreck me,” Mr. Wind said, voice low and honest. “I don’t want gentle. I don’t want sweet. I want you to use me like you hate me. Can you do that?”
Aaron’s jaw tightened.
He thought about Noah again. About how his husband had been working himself to the bone. About the exhausted slump of Noah’s shoulders every time he came home.
For Noah.
“Yeah,” Aaron said, voice rough. “I can do that.”
Mr. Wind’s eyes lit up with something almost grateful.
He dropped to his knees again without being told, pressing his face against Aaron’s cock and breathing him in. He licked slowly along the length, worshipping it with long, wet strokes of his tongue before taking the head back into his mouth. This time he was slower, more deliberate, like he wanted to savor it.
Aaron let out a low breath, one hand resting on top of Mr. Wind’s silver hair. He didn’t push. He just let the older man suck him at his own pace for a while, watching the way his lips stretched around the thick shaft.
But Mr. Wind didn’t stay gentle for long.
He pulled off with a wet sound and looked up at Aaron, eyes glassy.
“Piss on me,” he said suddenly, voice hoarse. “Please. I want it. On my face. In my mouth. Mark me before you fuck me.”
Aaron froze.
His stomach twisted.
He had done a lot of things in bed over the years, but this was new. And doing it with a stranger he was being paid to fuck made it feel even more transactional.
He thought about walking out. About telling Mr. Wind to keep his money.
Then he thought about the gym. About Noah begging galleries and clients just to survive.
Aaron’s hand tightened slightly in Mr. Wind’s hair.
“Open your mouth,” he said quietly.
Mr. Wind obeyed immediately, tongue out, eyes looking up at Aaron with pure submission.
Aaron relaxed his body and let go.
The hot stream hit Mr. Wind’s tongue first, then splashed across his face — over his cheeks, his closed eyes, his silver hair. It was filthy. Intimate in the worst way. Mr. Wind moaned like he was being given a gift, swallowing what landed in his mouth and letting the rest run down his neck and onto his expensive shirt.
When Aaron finished, Mr. Wind licked his lips and looked up at him with something close to worship.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Aaron felt something dark and uncomfortable twist in his chest.
He grabbed Mr. Wind by the hair and pulled him up roughly, then shoved him toward the bed.
“Get on it,” he growled. “Face down. Ass up.”
