Stuck on you

Chapter 10

Summary: Fifiteen thousand," is all he says sobering up, suddenly as business like as the champagne flowing in his veins allows him.
"I remember," he nods.

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THARA

He had a clear plan in mind when he hired Frong: go to the wedding, show off a heads-turning  kind of handsome but fake boyfriend, and before the clock stroke midnight end their deal with a handshake. Their paths might have crossed again in the future but it wouldn't have been an issue since he meant to keep the "relationship" on a platonic level.

Sure, the guy was not just dropdead gorgeous but also fun, clearly smart and with a sense of humor he liked. In any normal circumstance he would have asked him out, offered him dinner and hoped to have breakfast together the day after. The reality of the situation had been no secret from the very first moment he laid eyes on him and everyone knew that despite his weird, sometimes head-in-the -coulds personality, he was also very clear about the chances of anything working out, be it cancer or a relationship. And dating someone in Frong's line of work was the perfect recipe for a disaster.

The constant flirting made him let his guard down. The alcohol didn't help getting it back up. The way Frong softly bumped shoulders with him when he wanted to make it look they were sharing an inside joke was when his mind started to get messed up. He liked his touches and his attentions, even if none of that was real. Maybe he had been single for too long but he was affected, and that kiss had been the final straw. What he didn't expected when he woke up that morning was that sixteen hours later he would be dancing -weirdly because he was conscious that he sucked at it- surrounded by flashing  lights and swaying bodies, his fake boyfriend's body so close he could feel his heat, wishing he could sleep with him. And worst of all, voicing that wish out loud.

"Have sex with me tonight."

Frong's shock is evident on his face for a brief moment as he looks at him and probably wonders if he means it.

"Fifiteen thousand," is all he says sobering up, suddenly as business like as the champagne flowing in his veins allows him. He sounds cold, colder than the time he explained to him all his rates. Thara gets it because he has to be the same with his patients: make sure they understand the situation they are in and never become emotionally attached. It must be the same for his clients.

"I remember," he nods.

"If it's a hotel the client is the one taking care of all the expenses," Frong continues to explain the details they had overlooked: his fault because he had made it seem that his decision of not having sex was final. "Any other place, like your home, is ok but I need the address before we go."
He would have liked to have him in his bed, getting the chance to be able to still smell his presence even after he had left. But going to strangers' houses was probably more stressful and more of a hassle for Frong. And if got in a car right now he might have chickened out.

"This is a hotel," he says. "I'm sure we can get a room."

"Ok, then."

He vaguely remembers getting their stuff from the table and saying their goodbyes, Frong's hand in his as they hurried away, the charade still on until they were out of anyone's sight. But he remembers very well getting condoms and lube from the store on the corner, Frong waiting for him in the room they had gotten for themselves on the forty-fourth floor, the elevator ride lasting an infinite amount of time, the corridor to the room neverending.

From the moment of the proposal to the moment he approaches the door of their room  he has sobered up and there is a knot in his stomach. Thara is no the kind of guy who get's nervous over a one-night stand. But it is the first time he pays for one and he isn't a hundred percent sure of what to expect. Who is gonna be on top? He's paying for this so he should at least choose, right? There was an old movie with a famous american actress playing a hooker who did everything but kiss on the mouth: was it a rule? They never talked about this but they also had already kissed.

Will they kiss again? Maybe he is an hopeless romantic but he really wants to.

He walks inside and sees Frong standing right in front of the window, a glass of what seems white wine in his hand as he looks at the view. He takes a few tentative steps until he is next to him and among the hundreds of city lights reflected on the glass, he notices a reassuring smile on Frong's lips . Thara feels some of the tension disappear and takes the last sip from the glass handed to him, the same he had been drinking from a few seconds before.

"At least the view is great," he says, not used anymore to so much silence between them.

"It is," Frong agrees as he puts one hand on his hip and guides him toward the window, his back suddenly against the cold glass. He gives him the reigns over the situation since he is the professional. Frong's mouth starts working some sort of magic in the crook of his neck, his free hand on the other side of his face, palm cupping his jaw and thumb lightly stroking his cheek. Thara lets out a moan when Frong's leg slips between his, the contact arousing him even more and the hand not holding the glass shooting forward and circling the hooker's back and pushing him towards his body, the pressure of his thigh on his crotch increasing deliciously. His hand slips down inside Frong's pants and past his waistband, the skin of his lower back colder than he expects but as soft as he imagined it to be. Frong's ass cheeks are firm but he wastes no time on them, more interested in going lower and deeper.

"Is this ok?" he asks as his fingers find the entrance he had been looking for. Frong's head shots up, neck left unattended.

"Go ahead," he replies, mouth glistening, his cheeks rosier than before and eyes fixed into his. Thara doesn't lower his gaze and watches him as one of his fingers tickles he area around his entrance before slowly making its way inside of his hole. Frong gasps and if possible falls even closer, body completely on him as they both weight against the window. Eyes still on each other, Thara realizes for the first time how much he likes this: watching the pleasure appear on his face as he fingers him. He slowly thrusts deeper, one finger only, lube and condoms still in the bag he had abandoned on the bed when he came in. It's when his second knuckle gets buried into the warmth of his ass that Frong moves again, shoves his erection into his hip and kisses him hard.