Chapter Text
“Great work, everyone,” Jacob Zielinski, the photographer calls out and people begin to disperse. Vince stretches because the poses he’d been holding were awkward, and making them look natural took work. He swings his arms, getting the rest of the strain out of them, even as he approaches Jacob. The photographer glances up at him, and Vince catches the heat in his eyes.
He knows that look well these days. He’s twenty-two, finally legal for everything stateside, at least, but he’s been traveling internationally since he was sixteen, and he’s been modeling since he was discovered at twelve. Blessed—if you wanted to call it that—with not only golden hair and skin, but unique amber eyes that are often described as golden adds up to a highly desirable package. He knows very, very well what desire looks like.
“Do you need me for anything else?” he asks Jacob. What he’s really asking is if Jacob wants to fuck him tonight. It’s weird, to be taller than him now. He’d had a final growth spurt when he was twenty that brought him to 6’1”, and even though he should be used to it, he hasn’t seen Jacob nearly as often since, so it’s still a little jarring to be several inches taller than he is. Vince remembers being much smaller than him.
“I’ll send you a text if I do,” Jacob replies. Vince shrugs and goes to return the clothing to the assistants.
He’s not surprised that he has a text from Jacob before he leaves. It just says a room number, but Vince knows what he wants.
Angelique—another model—notices him glancing at his phone. She’s… a friend, in as much as Vince has friends among other models. She’s a 6’2” exotic beauty—the kind that only multiple ethnicities seem to bring out. Her skin is a warm caramel, maybe two shades darker than his own, and her long, thick hair is black as a raven’s wing, while her eyes are a piercing, shining green. She’s been doing this since she was fourteen, so she’s nearly as much a veteran as Vince, but she does more high fashion. He’s always surprised when he remembers how beautiful she is, but then, surrounded by the most beautiful men and women on the planet regularly, his perspective is probably distorted. “You don’t have to, you know,” she says to him, close and low when he puts his phone away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tells her, grabbing his jacket. He had scrubbed as much makeup from his face as he could, but the only thing to get that crap out of his hair is a shower.
She frowns at him. Her full lips, painted rose-red that make her eyes practically glow, frown prettily. She reaches out and locks her elbow with his, and he’s stuck unless he wants to make a scene. “Walk me out?” she says it like a question, but he knows it’s not.
When they’re well away from everyone else involved in the shoot, she says, “You don’t have to go to him, you know.”
He sighs. It’s not the first time he’s had this conversation. “I’m an adult,” he says, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Jacob has been fucking you since you were sixteen,” she says, low and a little angry in his ear. He stops and yanks her so he can stare at her.
“Where did you hear that?” he demands. It’s true, but it’s not common knowledge. Vince himself has never breathed a word of it to anyone.
“Baby, I’ve been watching that man eye fuck you since we started working together. He’s a great photographer, but he’s slime. You’re established and famous and in super demand. You don’t have to do favors for him anymore.”
He rolls his eyes and starts walking again. “I’ll thank you to stay out of it.”
“But—”
“I’m not fucking him for work,” Vince says, low but getting angry.
“Oh, really?” She’s being extremely sarcastic, but he ignores it.
“You know my reputation by now,” he tells her. “It’s not undeserved.”
“Are you really trying to tell me that you’re such a slut you’ll sleep with a sleezy photographer just because he wants you to?”
“I am really telling you that I really like sex, and I really like being fucked, and just because we have a history doesn’t mean I’m doing him any favors,” he says, keeping his voice low and speaking in quick, clipped words.
This time Angelique pulls on his arm to stop him and make them face one another again.
“That’s it? That’s what you’re going with?” she asks.
Vince lets his head hang back for a moment, staring at the twilighting sky. “He’s sleezy but he’s a good lay,” he admits, then straightens back so he’s looking at her. “It’s really not that complicated.”
She gives him a hard look, as if trying to decide if she believes him or if he’s lying. He’s not, so he lets her look as long as she needs. Jacob is a decent lay. He likes it a little rough, but he’s careful not to leave marks, and he loves to be in control. Something about being with Jacob hits Vince’s buttons right, their history notwithstanding. Also, if Jacob is fucking him, he’s not fucking up anyone else. Vince may get off on Jacob’s preferred flavor of sex, but he’s heard enough stories going around about girls and boys he’s been with who don’t.
“I worry about you,” she finally says, stroking his arm. He shrugs her off. He doesn’t really like to be touched if he’s not either working or having sex.
“It was cute when you worried about me when we were sixteen. It’s less cute now,” he tells her.
“Yeah, well, you haven’t exactly given me fewer reasons to worry,” she says tartly.
He shrugs and looks at his watch. “I’m starving, so I’m going to go get food.”
She sighs this time. “Want some company?” she asks.
He raises an eyebrow at her. “Will you actually eat?”
She pushes him, but it’s gentle and barely makes him shift. “Fuck you.”
“Is that an invitation?” he teases because he can’t help it.
“It is not!” she exclaims, but she’s laughing, and that’s really all Vince cares about.
Dinner is fun. Vince really doesn’t have a lot of friends, period, and if he’s with people, it’s usually for work or sex. The only person he spends any significant time with who doesn’t fall into either of those categories is his sister, Amelie. She’s a sophomore in college, so between the amount Vince travels and her own busy schedule, they don’t get a lot of time together these days, but he tries to touchbase by text at least once a day, and they try to talk at least once every three days.
He is having such a good time with Angelique, he jumps when his phone goes off.
“Fuck,” he says when he reads the text. It’s from Jacob, and short and to the point: Where R U?
The waiter had luckily been coming back around, so Vince makes the motion for check. They’re just at the hotel restaurant, at least. He can put it on his room tab and go up to see Jacob immediately. Angelique frowns.
“You don’t have to,” she says again. The waiter is efficient and brings the check back before he can get into it again.
“Thanks for dinner,” he says, rather than answering her question. “My treat,” he adds, signing off with his room number and signature and handing it back to the waiter.
She looks disappointed as he stands up and grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, but he just wishes her a quickly good night and leaves, shooting a quick OMW back to Jacob.
He barely raises his hand to knock before Jacob flings the door open and drags him in.
“What the fuck were you doing?” he demands, turning on his heel and going into the room.
“I had dinner with Angelique and lost track of time,” he says, following Jacob. The older man pulls his shirt off and settles himself on the kingsize bed, propping himself up. He palms himself through his jeans. He’s on the wrong side of forty, but he’s a narcissist, so he keeps himself in excellent shape. He’s not really handsome, at least not by Vince’s standards, but there is something interesting about his face, and he has an incredible intensity to him.
“You gonna fuck her?” Jacob asks.
“Who, Angelique?” he asks, taken aback.
“Who else?”
“Of course not,” Vince says.
“Why not? She’s hot.”
Vince tosses his jacket over the desk chair. “She’s just a friend. I don’t fuck friends.”
Jacob snorts. “Just everyone else.”
“Seeing as I fuck you, I don’t see where you get off complaining,” Vince snaps back.
Jacob leans forward and crooks a finger to summon Vince to him. Vince goes, a little wary. The moment he’s in arm’s reach, Jacob yanks him over his lap. He gets a firm grip on Vince’s hair and pull’s backward, making Vince arch and gasp, even as his other hand shoves down into Vince’s pants. Jacob strokes Vince’s dick in the confined space, and he gasps again, now arching not just from the hand in his hair, but trying to thrust up into that hand.
Jacob chuckles low, the gravely drag of a man who smokes three packs a day, and he always smells like an expensive ashtray. “You are such a fucking slut. It’s amazing you can even fuck a woman, pussy boy.” He lets go of Vince, and shoves him until he’s halfway down his legs.
A little disoriented from the harsh tease to absolute lack of stimulation, he gets slowly to his hands and knees, and gets a foot in his side, shoving him to the end of the bed. “Strip for me, slut.”
The pain stole Vince’s arousal. He didn’t mind a little bit of pain to intensify the pleasure during sex, but it wasn’t a turn on independently. He got off the bed, holding his side, but he can tell that the kick just caught him in a tender spot. Jacob wouldn’t dare leave anything as damning as a bruise on a model.
While he slowly stands Jacob pulls out his phone and turns on something low and sultry. “Gimme a show, slut.”
You don’t have to do this, Angelique’s voice reminds him. But she’s wrong. If he said no before he stepped into that room, he wouldn’t have to do this. But he’s there now, and Jacob is usually very good about not leaving marks, but Vince has no idea what he would do if Vince tried to walk out now.
So he pulls his T-shirt off his back, and sways to the music, turns his back to Jacob so he can look over his shoulder and tease him. Jacob continues to palm himself through his jeans as Vince dances and strips for him. He slowly unbuttons his own pants, undulating his stomach. He discreetly steps out of his shoes and toes off his socks while distracting Jacob. When his pants are totally open, he turns his back to Jacob again and eases them down over his ass, revealing the fact he’d been going commando. He can hear Jacob breathe a little harder at the revelation.
“No underwear?” he asks, voice a little ragged.
Vince bends over to push the pants all the way down, showing off both his ass and flexibility. When he stands back up and turns to face Jacob, he’s about half hard. “Just for you,” he says.
“There’s lube on the desk there. Bend over that chair, spread those legs, and let me see your face as you open your ass up.”
Vince flushes, but his cock twitches and gets harder at the command. He turns the chair so he can lay himself over its arms, then spreads his legs.
“Wider, slut.”
Vince takes a breath and moves his legs wider until his toes are just touching the floor on either side. He takes the lube. He turns awkwardly, weirdly grateful his agent suggested yoga years ago, and pours some lube straight between his cheeks. Not a lot—just enough to get the party started. He sets the lube aside, and runs his fingers in it, slicking them up before teasing his hole. He has his head turned, so he can watch Jacob as he opens himself up.
The first finger goes in easily, and it’s barely a tease. He doesn’t hesitate much before he adds a second finger, and he sighs as he does. That’s better. Not good, but better. Jacob unbuckles his belt and takes his own dick out.
“Another one,” Jacob tells him, and Vince adds a third finger. He groans as it sinks in. The third always starts to hit that sweet spot, scratch that weird need inside. “Look at me, slut.” Vince had looked away, but he now looks over. Jacob is stroking his length slowly, his eyes glued to Vince. “How does it feel? I want you to tell me.”
Vince hates this. Even more than he hates it, he really hates that it seems to turn him on. “It’s…”
“Words, pretty boy. I want to hear your words. How does it feel, fingering your own ass?”
“Good,” Vince admits.
“How good, baby? Tell daddy.”
Vince hates when he does that. It puts Vince back in his own head when that’s not what he wants when he gets fucked. “Feels so good,” he says instead, hoping the words will help get him back into the feeling.
“Is your hole lonely without daddy’s dick, baby?”
At that, Vince straightens. He grabs the condom off the table.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jacob demands as Vince tears open the pack as he goes to stand next to the bed. He grabs Jacob’s dick to slide the condom on.
“Making sure that we both get laid,” he says coolly. “Before you fuck it up.” He slings a leg over Jacob’s hips and straddles him, putting his cock at Vince’s entrance. Feeling the head press against the just-prepped opening helps almost immediately. He shifts, preparing to ease onto it, when Jacob grabs his hips and pulls him down, while at the same time, thrusting up hard. Vince doesn’t cum, but it’s only because he had come down so far.
Once he’s speared to the hilt, Jacob grabs his hair, making him arch again, which makes Jacob’s cock rub up against his prostate in that perfect, beautiful way that starts making all the spinning thoughts go away. “Is this what you needed, slut?” Jacob demands, harsh, thrusting hard even though Vince hasn’t fully adjusted. “You just needed a dick inside you? Need that boy cunt fucked?”
“Yes,” Vince gasps, trying to roll his hips.
“Fucking miracle you can use this dick at all when you love a man’s cock in your cunt so much,” Jacob snarls, slapping at Vince’s now rock-hard dick. The way they’re coupled doesn’t really let him get a good hit in, and it just heightens everything when some part of him is pretty sure Jacob wanted that to hurt. “What do you think, slut? Can I fuck you till you cum?”
“Oh, God, please,” he begs, even as Jacob pulls his hair hard, making him bend even further back. Jacob thrusts up several times, hard, right into Vince’s prostate. He’s cum from just his ass a few times, and it’s always fucking amazing when he does, different than cumming normally. It’s more intense and more drawn out, but it tends to take him a while to get there, and most of his partners aren’t willing or able to fuck him for that long.
Jacob slaps his ass—hard—and it makes Vince clench up, which makes Jacob rub just right, so he can’t really complain, he just moans. Jacob slaps him again, and gets the same result. “Fuck, baby. Milk daddy’s cock with that ass,” Jacob tells him, slapping his ass again, alternating between cheeks. He is rubbing right up against Vince’s prostate, and it’s making his brain foggy. He doesn’t like being hit, and the slaps are getting harder, hurting more, hurting enough that even the lovely rub of a cock against his spot is getting lost. “Jesus fuck. The way you clench when I smack you.” Vince starts to whimper and his cock starts to wilt.
Another hard slap—and this one feels like it could be bruising—then Jacob says, “Get on your hands and knees, baby.” Vince does, even as he’s definitely losing his edge. Jacob shoves his pants around his thighs, gets between Vince’s spread legs, and fucks back into him in one, long, hard thrust, and it hits his spot just right to start winding him up again. “Been such a bad girl,” Jacob says, one hand on Vince’s hip as he thrusts, the other alternating between spanking him. “Daddy’s gotta punish you like the dirty slut you are.”
Vince hangs his head, caught between the way Jacob’s cock is making him feel and the way his words are making him feel. That cock is glorious, but the words and the slapping are both new and they are not. Jacob is still hitting him, moaning, and now he’s fucking into Vince, but it’s like he’s purposefully missing his spot. That’d normally be fine because Vince enjoys being fucked even without prostate stimulation, but the pain and the words are turning him off, and he can’t even enjoy just being filled.
The hand that was on his hip moves around and starts playing with his now entirely limp dick. He wants to pull away from it, but he kind of can’t go anywhere with Jacob’s dick in him.
“Oh, fuck, that’s hot, baby girl,” Jacob grunts into his ear, pressing his sweaty chest to Vince’s back. “You don’t need that clit, do you? You can come just from your pussy, just like a good girl, can’t you?”
“Jacob—”
“It’s Daddy, baby girl.” Jacob returns his grip to Vince’s him and smacks him hard enough to get a whine out Vince. “Remember it’s your daddy filling your cunt. Such a dirty, naughty slut, you are.” The words keep flowing over Vince even as he continues spanking, and now, now it just hurts. The occasional scrape of dick on prostate is nowhere near enough to offset the pain and degradation. “Gotta punish your hole. Daddy’s gotta punish his slutty baby, make sure she doesn’t want any dick but daddy’s filling her nasty hole.” His hips start thrusting wildly, and then he stills as he cums, slumped against Vince’s back.
Vince stays very still. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breath out.
Jacob groans as he pushes himself up. He pats Vince’s side as he slides out. “God, that was hot, baby.” He says it like a compliment, but it makes Vince want to kick him in his dick. He doesn’t say anything, just sidles over to the side of the bed and gets off on trembling legs. His ass aches, both inside and out. He listens to Jacob clean himself up as he sits back on the end of the bed to pull his pants up, careless of the lube getting on the blanket. The denim is rough against the sensitized skin as he pulls them up and he hisses.
“Sorry if I was a little rough there. You were just… Fuck, you were so hot.”
I didn’t do a damn thing except let you fuck me, he thinks bitterly, but his throat is tight. He’s afraid if he tries to open his mouth, he’s going to start screaming or crying, and he honestly isn’t sure which would be worse. He bends down to grab his socks and stuffs them into a pocket. No way is he sitting or bending long enough to put them on. He stands, taking only a moment to make sure his legs will hold him, then plucks his shirt off the desk and pulls hit back on, forcing himself to straighten his back. He slides his feet into his shoes and grabs his jacket.
“So, till next time?” Jacob asks, and for the first time he seems to notice that something isn’t quite right with Vince.
“Night,” Vince manages to force out, and he leaves before Jacob can say anything else.
He goes to the elevator, grateful they’re on different floors. Jacob doesn’t chase him, but Vince would be surprised if he even thought he should.
It wasn’t rape, he tells himself. He went there to get fucked. He put the condom on Jacob’s dick, would have sat on it if Jacob hadn’t beat him to it. So he didn’t like the spanking or the daddy talk. He isn’t turned on by being treated like a woman. He never said “stop” or “no.” It’s buyer’s remorse, and lesson learned—whatever Jacob did before that worked for Vince is gone. He punches the elevator button with more force than necessary, not that it’ll make it come any faster.
When the doors open, Vince almost decides to take the stairs. Mathieu Monfils is a model Vince has worked with before, but he’s a bully and sees everyone as a threat to his career. Vince really, really isn’t in the headspace to deal with it.
Mathieu looks at him weirdly. “Are you going up?” he asks, holding the door.
Vince decides it’s weirder if he doesn’t and gets on. “Thanks.” His floor is already selected so he just leans against the wall as it goes up.
“Look, man, I know we’re not friends or anything,” Mathieu says, his English colored with his native French. He has a nice voice, and Vince has always thought it’s a shame his voice is so sexy when the man himself is such a bitch. “But you look like shit. Is everything okay?”
Jesus, he thinks. He must look really awful if Mathieu Monfils noticed enough to ask. “I’m…” His voice catches in his throat, and he has to stop and clear it, but fortunately, they arrive at their floor. “I’m fine. Thanks,” he manages. He gets maybe five steps down the hall before Mathieu’s heavy feet catch up with him and grabs his shoulder. Vince doesn’t think, he reacts. He turns and swats the hand away, and he has no idea what’s on his face, but it makes Mathieu’s face harden. He grabs Vince’s arm and all but frog marches him to what must be his room.
“What the fuck?” Vince demands, suddenly angry.
Mathieu closes the door and throws the deadbolt, then plants himself in front of it. “That’s what I want to know.”
“Jesus Christ, Monfils. What do you fucking want?” he demands.
“I want you to tell me what happened.”
“You are such a—just fucking let me go to my room,” Vince says. He’s not having this discussion. Not with Mathieu Monfils of all people.
“Not until you talk.”
“Since when do you fucking care anyway?” Vince snaps. His hands are shaking and he crosses his arms to hide it. “It’s not a big deal—”
“It was Zielinski, wasn’t it?”
Vince sighs and runs his hand over his face. “It’s not Jacob,” he says, because really, it isn’t. It’s his own fucking fault. He’s learned his lesson with Jacob, and there won’t be another incident. It’s awful, but he knows Jacob didn’t really do anything wrong.
“Come on, Safinov. Everyone knows you let that sleeze fuck you.”
Vince feels his eyebrows raise at the direct attack. “I wasn’t aware that it was common knowledge,” he says. “And if it were true, don’t you think I got what I deserved?”
He doesn’t think Mathieu would look more surprised if he’d outright slapped him, which is oddly gratifying.
The shock only lasts a moment before Mathieu’s expression hardens again. “Did he rape you?”
It’s Vince’s turn to be stunned. He didn’t imagine that Mathieu would have asked him so directly. Maybe that’s why he says, “No,” even though he doesn’t really mean to answer.
“If you could see yourself right now…”
“He didn’t,” Vince assures. Mathieu doesn’t look convinced. “Really.” He runs a hand through his hair, and it catches on some of the product in it.
“Are you sure?”
“I put his dick in my ass, so yeah, pretty sure he didn’t rape me,” Vince bites back, because that question was idiotic. “He just… said some shit that didn’t really do it for me. That’s all,” he says, the anger going as fast as it came and fuck, he doesn’t usually have mood swings like this. He doubles down because he wants this conversation over with, and if he can make Mathieu uncomfortable with details, he figures it’ll be over much faster. “So I got fucked but didn’t get to get off, so forgive me if I’m a little grumpy.”
Mathieu doesn’t really look like he believes Vince, but Vince is out of ideas, and he’s not really happy to have admitted that much.
“You know, I know several girls that he’s… forced himself on.”
Vince rolls his eyes. “He’s not that fucking careless. I didn’t get this job because I fuck him, and he didn’t rape me, so that’s all. Can I go back to my room?”
Mathieu seems to deflate, and he throws the deadbolt on the door, then steps aside.
Before Vince can pull it open, Mathieu puts his hand on the door and meets his eyes. “If there’s anything I can do…”
“Unless you want me to ride your cock till I get off properly, there’s really nothing,” he snaps, reaching for the handle again. This time, Mathieu interrupts him by putting his hand on Vince’s.
“Would that really help?” he asks when Vince turns to stare at him. The question is sincere, which is bizarre, because Vince is pretty sure he knows who most of the male models that swing both ways are. He’s never heard a whisper of Mathieu being interested in guys, Frenchman or no.
“No offense, but I’m not interested in popping your homosexual cherry tonight,” Vince says.
“I’ve fucked guys before.” Vince gives him a look, and he sighs and says, “I’ve fucked a guy before.”
“I don’t need a pity fuck.”
“No pity,” Mathieu says.
“You don’t even like me,” Vince feels it necessary to point out.
“I don’t like how much you fuck around,” Mathieu says it like a correction. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”
“No one who doesn’t fuck me likes me,” Vince says.
“I would actually argue there are a number of people who fuck you that don’t like you, just think you’re hot and a good lay.”
Vince stares. “I’m not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.”
Mathieu scratches his nose, so Vince doesn’t think he does either. “Look, let me give you my number, just in case.”
“In case what?” Vince asks.
“In… case you need anything. I can do anything for you.”
“I’ll pass,” Vince says, grabbing the handle, and this time Mathieu has the grace to back off.
“The offer stands. If you need anything tonight… you know where to find me.”
Vince just shoves past and goes to his own room, but he can feel Mathieu’s eyes on him until he closes his own door behind him.