Work Text:
Dan had worked like this long enough to know what to expect. Malcolm would give him a name (often an alias) and a location, the client would use him until satisfied, he would get paid, then he could limp home with the assurance he would be able to afford his next meal.
The first notable difference was that this client wasn't rough, which was almost a surprise in his line of work; the thrusts were smooth, almost gentle, and he whispered meaningless praises. Treating him more like a lover than a toy.
Dan had gotten used to just lying still, either muffling his voice in the sheets or moaning exuberantly depending on what the client wanted. If this client expected him to play the role of willing lover instead of an emotionless exchange of sex for money, then he knew how to please. That the older man is also wealthy is further encouragement.
Still he didn't expect the client to reach around and stroke him. He flinched at the touch, half-expecting it to hurt. It didn't, and he climaxed barely a minute later. The client didn't last much longer, a small reassurance.
The client (Mr. Winchester, Malcolm had called him) pulled out. He heard him shuffle off the bed and start to redress. Dan stayed where he'd been left, feeling...
He was fine. He knew he was fine.
Then why did he feel rattled?
An unexpected hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright, lad?"
Dan hated the slight flinch. He sat up, sliding into his familiar role. "Fine, thank you, Sir. Is there anything else you would like me to do?"
Convincing, except for the tremor in his voice.
Mr. Winchester was watching with a small frown. He went to the desk beside the bed, started searching for something in the drawers.
Dan could feel the building tightness in his chest. Had he messed it all up? Would he complain to Malcolm? Oh God, Malcolm might decide he's too much trouble, might cut him loose. Then he'd lose his only income and he'd have to go looking for someone else to employ him, maybe someone with less standards and safety nets and then-
"Easy now," the hand was back on his shoulder, warm against his bare skin. "Just take a deep breath."
Dan drew in a quick breath, let it out, drew in another. One breath after another. He was fine, he was okay.
It had been awhile since he's had an episode like this.
"I'm okay," he managed to say, hating the fragility in his voice. "I'm sorry for being a nuisance. I'm usually better than this."
The older man was watching him with something like fatherly concern. Which was a bit strange considering the man had been inside him only a few minutes ago but Dan tried not to judge his clients' tastes. "When was the last time you ate?"
"Noon, I think?"
He handed him a menu. "Order whatever you want from room service."
Dan looked back at him warily. Kindness usually came with a price, and he wondered what more he would have to give to earn it.
Mr. Winchester must have seen something of that in his expression. "It's okay, consider it my treat."
Because he's hungry (and curious), Dan ordered mushroom risotto, a fruit and cheese platter, a soda, and a slice of cheececake. Maybe he'll be allowed to keep some as leftovers.
The risotto was delicious, made even better by the fact that it was delivered hot. Mr. Winchester gave him a few minutes to eat in peace. Dan took the opportunity to study his client between bites of food.
Sharp blue eyes set in a stern lined face. Appeared to be in his 50s, but could be older. Neatly trimmed dark hair that had turned silver along the temples. Comfortable with his wealth, not the kind to be generous with empathy.
Yet here he was, being generous with Dan. Maybe it was just whim.
Dan chewed on a piece of cantaloupe. He hadn't had any in a few years; money had been tight and there were other essential foods to spend it on.
"How long have you been selling yourself?"
Dan bristled a little at the implied judgment.
"About five years. It pays the bills," he replied cooly. And then, because he's feeling unusually bold, he added, "a product you were fine with buying."
For a moment, he wondered if he'd been too bold, wrongly bolstered by the gift of food and kindness. Then his client smiled slightly, amusement and curiosity in his eyes. "Well, you're not wrong about that."
A moment of silence. Before it could get too awkward Dan asked, "Why buy me the meal?"
"Why not? You're clearly not at your best and I have money to spare."
The answer wasn't really satisfying. Like the flip of a coin, it could have easily landed the other way. Best not to push too much.
"Why the freakout earlier? You're clearly not inexperienced."
Dan nibbled on a piece of cheese. He could guess, the tension had probably been building for awhile. He went for a partial truth. "It's been a long week. Things have just been kinda rough. Guess I got overwhelmed."
His work fell into a predictable pattern and, for some reason, this slight deviation had been just too much. Maybe the exhaustion had been building for a long time. Like a wool shawl slowly worn down into shreds.
He put the rest of his meal to the side; he didn't want to upset his stomach.
"Do you have anywhere to be tonight?"
"No?" Dan said hesitantly. "Nowhere specific."
"Stay the night," Mr. Winchester told him firmly. "I'll make sure Malcolm still gives you your payment."
So he stayed. While his client did some business stuff on his computer, Dan pressed into his side. Mr. Winchester's hand played with his curly hair as they lay under the bed sheets. In his line of work, sex had just become another task, an activity with little room for genuine intimacy, especially from his end.
It felt nice to be touched so. Dan would have to return to reality in the morning, but for now he would treasure this intimacy.