Chapter Text
Alfred has this thing- once an idea enters his head, his imagination sinks its teeth into it like a rabid dog. The only way to release the hold is to make the idea reality.
That dogged determination had made Alfred a very successful man- He wanted to be a millionaire by twenty one, he did it, he wanted to be one of the top stock brokers in New York, he achieved that, he wanted the pent house with a vintage pinball machine view of the Statue of Liberty- done and done.
So what was his next goal? What idea currently had his mind in its iron clad grip?
Well. Alfred couldn’t stop thinking about having a threesome.
Plenty of the guys at work had done threesomes. He’d heard Chad brag all the time about banging two chicks at once, then Hudson would always chip in and say he’d bagged three. If those losers could do it, why couldn’t Alfred? He was better than them in every way! Alfred could never stand it when others had something he didn’t, whether than something was a fancier phone or an experience.
Now, Alfred considered himself a pretty stellar guy- he was tall, smart, handsome, rich, athletic, motivated- all the qualities that made a superior human. But he had one teensy tiny flaw. A small minute Achilles heel that stopped him from being basically perfect. Alfred liked dudes. He was a fag. No amount of self-hatred or straight porn seemed to change it. So, Alfred managed his problem like the put-together professional he was.
He always had a girlfriend; Some slut who didn’t ask questions and was happy so long as he threw jewellery her way so often and took her to fancy restaurants she could post on Instagram. He always made sure to swap the sluts out before they got a chance to actually know him and question why he could only sleep with them in the dark after a handful of viagra. It wasn’t difficult, there were plenty of sluts in New York, and as stated, Alfred was basically perfect so he had no problems attracting more.
Alfred kept his relationships with men discreet and he was careful about who he picked- he did not want to deal with being blackmailed, thank ya very much. He had a couple of guys on his roster and a couple of guys he had in mind for the threesome. He couldn’t exactly do something so important with strangers, could he?
Alfred had learned the recipe for success, both in business and personal life, was to avoid looking at people as humans, and instead see them as projects. Personality doesn’t matter, people are just a collection of traits, and all you need to do is work out how they may benefit you and how best to use them.
Ivan would be easy to convince. Everything about Ivan was easy.
Alfred had met him one of the few times he had been desperate enough to go to a gay bar.
Alfred still remembered the first time time he saw him- tall, platinum hair, wide eyes, sat in the corner with an absentminded smile on his face.
Maybe there was some sort of power trip Alfred got out of dominating someone bigger than himself, or perhaps it was because Ivan looked so damn soft and huggable, either way, Alfred wanted to fuck him the moment he saw him.
So Alfred went over and started the usual chat up lines that made everyone swoon- Told Ivan his eyes were pretty, not-so-subtly implied he was rich, and managed to mention just how much he could bench at the gym (it’s a lot, okay).
Ivan just sat with that vague smile, eyes floating off somewhere in the middle distance. “You are very boring.” Ivan said to him once he had finished his spiel. His tone was so light and airy, as if he were commenting on the weather. Something about his Russian accent made his words seem even more brutal.
Alfred didn’t know what to say, because nobody rejects him, he’s Alfred Fucking Jones, Baby. Everybody wants him, everybody wants to be him!
“I don’t want to hear you talk any more, but if you want we can fuck. For you… $400.” Ivan had said, again with that startling calmness and that eerie smile. When he up, Alfred followed.
Alfred still hadn’t quite managed to work Ivan out. In the bedroom he’s soft and yielding. He’s never said no to anything, never complained no matter how rough Alfred was with him. He just accepted everything with that gentle, unreadable smile. Whenever Alfred wanted to try something really fucked up, he went to Ivan.
Whenever they were done, Ivan always seemed keen for Alfred to leave. If Alfred tried to have a conversation (sometimes he wanted pillow talk, okay), Ivan would always nod along, clearly only half listening as he scrolled on his phone or watched TV. It was infuriating, really, Alfred suspected it was some sort of ploy to mess with his mind, after all, it was unthinkable to imagine Ivan actually wasn’t interested. Alfred was the most interesting guy on the planet, probably. Everyone wanted his attention, even Ivan who didn’t ever talk about himself and seemed bored as soon as they stopped fucking.
Ivan didn’t just sleep with Alfred because he paid him. The moans of pleasure he elicited from Ivan were real, he was sure of that. Ivan always smiled as Alfred fucked him.
Whenever Alfred suggested the threesome to Ivan, predictably, he just shrugged, smiled and said ‘okay’ so long as it wasn’t on a Tuesday, and he wanted an extra $50 on top of his usual rate.
Let it be known, Alfred doesn’t need to pay for sex, okay? He wants to make that very clear. He’s cool, handsome and has a killer smile. Guys and gals throw themselves as him. However, payment created an emotional distance, it kept things safer. The last thing Alfred needed was another Arthur on his roster.
Arthur was the worst type of whore- the type who pretended they weren’t one. Instead of Alfred just paying cash upfront for Arthur’s company and body, he had to dress it up as something nicer. Cash transfers had to be called gifts and they both had to pretend that Alfred was just being a nice fuck-buddy and he wasn’t paying Arthur specifically for sex.
Arthur could be hard fucking work. He had deluded himself into thinking he wasn’t a prostitute and got insulted at the insinuation he was. Sometimes he would say no to things, even though he was being paid more than generously. That made Alfred furious- he hated feeling scammed. Sometimes Arthur was so damn moody and sour, which he really had no reason to be, because again, Alfred paid enough money for him to fucking smile.
Arthur was lucky he had such pretty eyes and he was so good at being sweet when he chose to, or Alfred would have dropped him a long time ago. Perhaps Alfred is just a little attached to him, after all, he had been seeing Arthur the longest.
Arthur is in love with him, Alfred’s pretty sure of that. It’s an added bonus. Of course, Alfred would never love him back- it’s bad enough being attracted to men, he refuses to fall in love with one- but the attention and adoration is nice. He loved how jealous Arthur gets when Alfred mentions his other flings.
Arthur likes to pretend he’s better than he is. He views himself as some damn tragic bohemian, too proud to accept that he’s nothing but a whore. So it wasn’t easy convincing him to go along with the threesome.
“I don’t know, Alfred. I don’t even know the guy. It seems.. degrading.” Arthur said with a frown, currently sat in Alfred’s bed (king sized) draped in his sheets (Egyptian Cotten) sipping wine (vintage 1999).
“Don’t be like that, Artie, it’ll be fun. Trust me.” Alfred said, wrapping his hands around Arthur’s waist and pulling him close, kissing his shoulder. Arthur wriggled in his grasp.
“What would even be fun about it?” He asked.
For Alfred, the answer was obvious- Being Centre of Attention, watching two men get jealous and fight over who can please him the best, the power trip, bragging rights in the office where he’ll say the deed was done with ‘Alice’ and ‘Ivanka’.
The guys at work had already heard all sorts of stories about Alice and Ivanka, the English and Russian broads that were both definitely obsessed with Alfred.
“It’s kind of been a fantasy of mine, baby don’t you want to help me live my fantasy?.” Alfred said. “You know what they say. The more the merrier- “
“I don’t think they’re referring to sex. I don’t know if I want to do that with a stranger” Arthur said. Ugh. Why did he have to be so Godamn difficult? Alfred did get a little kick out of Arthur being hesitant to sleep with someone that wasn’t him- the dude was definitely in love. Alfred almost pitied him.
“Mmhhm. Promise me you’ll at least think about it.” Alfred said. “I’m due another bonus at the end of the month. I’ll be able to treat you- “
And the amount depends on how well you please me, was the unspoken extra part. So many fucking hoops.
Eventually Arthur agrees, like he almost always does- just like with the handcuffs, the whipping, the crossdressing and the chemsex.
Because no matter what pretentious Arthur attempts to cling to, a whore is a whore.
Alfred buys the hotel room, purchases the cocaine, the booze, the mdma and pays for both their Ubers. (Not cheap- to drive them both to the other side of the city).
He sits and a waits on one of the sofas, soaking it all in. The room was big- huge bed, lounge area, massive jacuzzi bath tub. There was no way Alfred would be doing something like this in a cheap motel room. Alfred didn’t do cheap. He wanted nothing less than the best at all times.
He looks over the city, neon lights glowing in the dark, a sense of pride washing over him- he was ordering people the way one ordered room service, because he Alfred F. Jones and he was powerful enough to get whatever the fuck he wanted.
He mulls over exactly what he wants to do. He’d been watching a lot of porn of orgies- research is important in any endeavour. Maybe he would fuck Ivan first so he could watch Arthur get jealous. Maybe he could fuck Ivan while Ivan fucked Arthur. Arthur would whine about that, Alfred was sure, but he’d always gotten a kick out of pushing people to do stuff outside their comfort zone. It was a an exercise in power. So many wonderful options to choose from.
Arthur arrives first, which is how Alfred planned it. Ivan would go along with whatever, Arthur was the one Alfred would need to loosen up.
Sure enough, when Arthur arrives he’s tense and rigid. Alfred quickly hands him a glass of wine, and internally tries to calculate what would be the perfect amount to get him merry, but not sloppy and crying. The crying Alfred had been made to endure a few times when Arthur got too drunk. This was just like at his job when Alfred was trying to close on a big deal- it was all about precision and knowing how to work people. And knowing when to throw money. Alfred had learned that money will get you literally everything.
Arthur sips his wine and looks out the window. “The City seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time, in its first wild promise of all the mystery and the beauty in the world.” He says, mostly to himself.
“Is that from some book?” Alfred asks. Arthur smirks at him.
“Yes. Some book.” He replied, looking faintly amused. It made Alfred feel stupid, which he didn’t like, so he started talking about work, and how much money he’d made for the company this week alone. Arthur smiles and nods along, while pouring a small pile of cocaine out on the table and making lines with Alfred’s American Express card.
Alfred knows he is very impressed. Arthur couldn’t dream of making that sort of money- at least not without giving up the last shreds of dignity he held so tightly to.
Knock knock.
Ivan was here. Arthur was two glasses of wine and one like of coke in, so hopefully he wouldn’t freak out too much when he saw the size of the other.
However, when Ivan and Arthur saw each other, both smiled.
“Ivan?” Arthur said, looking pleasantly surprised.
“Ah. It’s Arthur, right? I did not know you would be the one here.” Ivan said, that ever-present smile widening slightly. Alfred frowned.
“You two know each other?”
They both glanced at Alfred.
“Not terribly well.” Arthur said.
“We share some mutual friends.” Ivan clarified, although Alfred couldn’t help but suspect it was more than that.
He shook away any uneasy feelings- this was a good thing, right? If Arthur was comfortable, there was less of a chance he would back out and ruin this whole fucking evening Alfred had worked so hard (and paid so much) to manifest.
“Let’s get this party started.” Alfred said, popping open the champagne. He wanted to be nice and buzzed when the threesome properly began.
The evening didn’t go the way Alfred had envisioned. He imagined Arthur and Ivan both competing for his attention, but the two seemed more interested in each other, asking about mutual friends that Alfred didn’t know and didn’t care about. It wasn’t even sexy talk- they were speaking about some guy named Gilbert who was apparently in prison for illegal sale of exotic animals.
They were so fucking absorbed in each other, Alfred was finding it hard to interject and steer them back to what they should be doing, which was a threesome where he was centre of attention.
Alfred tried very tactfully to bring the conversation back to the important stuff- which was himself. “You’ll never guess what the guys at work have started calling me; The Wasp of Wallstreet. Because anyone who crosses me gets stung and I make a fuck ton of money.” He said.
They both turned to him, as if just remembering he was there. Ivan was smiling, which meant fuck all because Ivan was always smiling. They both had a look in their eyes, somewhere between exasperation and amusement. They shared a knowing glance.
“Are wasps known for making a fuck ton of money?” Arthur asked.
“Good honey is quite expensive.” Ivan chipped in.
“That’s bees.” Arthur said.
“Ah. Of course. My English is.. still a work in progress.” Ivan said.
“No, it’s really very good.” Arthur commented. “Do you know, Francis is keeping bees now?”
Alfred suddenly felt sick. He couldn’t stand to hear one more banal anecdote about a person he didn’t know. Instead of the centre of attention, he felt like an irritating child at an adults dinner party. He grit his teeth.
Alfred snorted two lines off the table in quick succession- powdered confidence- and felt the hit near instantly. The powerful feeling he was now accustomed to returned. This was his fucking party. He had paid for it.
“Speaking of getting stung, let’s have some real fun, yeah?” He stood up, grabbing Arthur’s arm in one hand, Ivan’s in the other, leading them towards the bed.
“We don’t have to do this right now. We can try later when you’re ready.” Arthur said. The gentleness of his tone made the situation even more humiliating.
The three of them were currently on the bed, naked. Ivan had one hand chained to the bed post with fluffy handcuffs. Arthur was between his legs and Alfred was behind him.
This should be Alfred’s fantasy, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the condescending look the other two had shared earlier, how easily they had gotten along. Alfred couldn’t help but wonder if they actually liked him at all or if they just liked his money. He thought Arthur at least loved him. What if he didn’t? What if nobody did?
So, no matter the kissing or foreplay, Alfred just couldn’t get hard.
“No- I’m fine. Just. Give it a minute.” Alfred hissed, regretting not bringing his viagara. “Do something sexy.”
“Like what?” Arthur asked.
“I don’t care. Just do something sexy.” Alfred snapped.
Arthur gave sigh and turned around, putting his hand on Alfred’s face and kissing him deeply, squeezing his crotch. When he pulled away he whispered in Alfred’s ear.
“I want you so bad. Nobody is as good as you. You’re so unbelievably hot. You’re the richest, coolest guy I’ve ever been with.” Arthur said, words that would usually go straight to Alfred’s dick, however, today they didn’t seem to be working. Maybe it’s because he could see Ivan in the periphery of his vision, the Russian bastard was smirking, looking as if he was trying not to laugh.
Alfred suddenly felt incredibly stupid, and Arthur’s affirmations that he usually loved so much just felt like placating, patronisation.
“Y’know what the issue is? It’s too damn cold in here. AC is too damn good.” Alfred said, pulling himself away from the other two and hopping off the bed. “Lemme take a look at it. You two amuse yourselves, I’ll be right back.”
The two looked at Alfred, slightly bemused as he went towards the AC panel, tapped a few buttons then slipped into the bathroom. “I’ll be five minutes.”
Alfred stared at himself in the mirror. A sad, nervous looking boy stared back.
For one brief, crazy moment, he didn’t recognise himself. Who was he, without his trust fund and his fancy job and his limitless credit card. Who actually was Alfred F. Jones?
Did Ivan and Arthur care about him at all outside his money? Oh God. What if they were talking about him right now? What if they were laughing about him together? Sharing stories about how annoying he was?
This wasn’t him. He was Alfred Fucking Jones, Wasp of Wall Street. He didn’t get nervous or choke at important moments, he wasn’t impotent. Alfred seized what he wanted, consequences be damned.
He had to get his head in the game.
Alfred closed the toilet seat and poured white powder from the baggie he had swiped, arranging it into lines as best he could with his hands. He licked the excess off his fingers, those familiar spots of numbness tingling across his tongue.
He had three big lines, trying not to think about the fact he was currently snorting cocaine off a hotel toilet seat. This was a nice hotel. A really fucking nice hotel. The toilet seat would be clean, this isn’t disgusting at all, actually!
Alfred emerges from the bathroom a new man, wired and ready to go, his heart thundering in his chest a million miles an hour. He felt like his blood had been replaced with electricity, his whole body was buzzing.
Arthur and Ivan are already fucking.
Ivan, still handcuffed to the bed frame was moaning in pleasure as Arthur fucked him from behind.
Alfred froze in place, finding he could do nothing except stand there and watch.
Arthur was supposed to love him, Alfred was sure he did. So how could he sleep with another man so easily, without Alfred making him do it?
And Ivan, Ivan may not love him- Alfred wasn’t that deluded- but surely he didn’t want to miss out on Alfred’s expert love making skills.
He didn’t even know Arthur topped. He didn’t know Ivan could make noises like that.
Slowly Alfred walked over, feeling as if he was watching something on a TV screen, not real life. Neither of them paid him any mind. They had forgotten him completely. He may as well not exist. He didn’t even know how to join in- getting on the bed felt like an unwelcome intrusion. All he could hear was the sounds of their love making and his own rapid heart beat- holy shit maybe he had too much.
Alfred started counting in his head- $725 for the hotel room, combined $109 for the Ubers, $200 on wine, $300 on coke, $450 for Ivan, an exorbitant amount for Arthur. All for what? He had spent thousands. Just to be left out and cucked, watching the two men who should be worshipping him fuck while he dinged his dong alone in the corner.
Alfred tried to re-write the events of that night. He makes up a stomach ache to explain why he didn’t take part. The truth was too embarrassing.
“Next time.” Arthur said to him, soothingly. Alfred nodded along, but he knew there wouldn’t be a next time. He didn’t want to pair off his lovers ever again. It made him feel so insignificant seeing how easily they got along. It made Alfred feel as if he weren’t special- which was preposterous.
A few weeks later, Alfred texts Ivan to meet up, the other replies swiftly. ‘I want another $350. Arthur told me what you pay him and I want something closer to that.’
Great. The escorts had fucking unionised.
The worst part was this pervasive feeling that Arthur and Ivan were able to connect so easily because they had some essential inner quality that Alfred didn’t. Something Alfred caught glimpses of in others when they laughed carelessly, or did things for the love of doing them, not for some overarching plan or their own self image.
Alfred wasn’t sure what it was exactly- but he feared it was something money couldn’t buy.