It's just another day, and he's just another man.

Levi hardly notices anymore. It's been three years now, and everything feels as routine as life on the streets ever had.

Wake up in the mid-afternoon. Bathe. Eat. Trade half his food to one of the other boys for an extra turn in the bath. Wait for nightfall. Take a last shit and clean everything out.

When the lights go on, there's a subtle change in the atmosphere. It's boring. Some of the new kids still get excited, and their anticipation is laughable. All men are the same, once you've been here long enough.

At least he has a bed of his own. It's not large, but they wash the sheets every day, because some of the sluts they pick up off the streets aren't as fastidious about getting clean before they climb into bed as Levi is.

When he was younger, he'd thought they were the disgusting pigs. Now he knows they're just too shaken or too jaded to bother. He always bothers, no matter how shaken, how injured, how tired he is.

He hasn't been shaken for a while, now. Every man is the same.

His first client today is a regular. He's some tax collector, staff personnel that works for the Military Police. He likes to talk about his very important job, and he's vanilla as fuck. He's already waiting in the client room when Levi shows up, his manager giving a jerk of his head. "Manager" is a cute name for "pimp," but at least he doesn't ask for much more of a cut than a blow now and then.

The name the guy gives is Pierre, and Levi would bet a sack of the cash he's skimming off the top that isn't his real name. There isn't much between his legs, but Levi does his best, and at least it doesn't make his jaw ache by the time he's done.

"You're such a good listener," Pierre murmurs, touching his hair, and Levi only narrowly refrains from asking, "Were you talking?"

It's about half an hour until he's back in his room. His manager isn't thrilled, leaning on the door frame as soon as he gets back.

"We talked, Levi."


"You know you're not supposed to mouth off to the customers."

"Fuck off, Ted, it's just Pierre, he doesn't give a shit."

"He said you were being a rude little cunt."

"He'll come back." Levi scrubs at his face and neck with a damp cloth, all the bathing he has time for. "I got anyone else tonight?"

Ted scowls, looking down at his clipboard. "Yeah, but you don't deserve it."


"Another bigwig. You sound like his type, or I'd give him to Lucas."

Levi stretches out his arms, hearing a little popping noise. Getting old is for suckers. "He ask for anything special?"

"Nah, but he's a big guy. Lemme know if he leaves bruises."

Ted doesn't really give a shit about Levi's well-being, but he'll be more than happy to change extra for any bruises left on his property.

Unlike Pierre, this man isn't waiting naked and on his back, big belly pretty much hiding what little he's got. This guy is sitting in one of the chairs, drink in hand, wearing a tailored suit with shoes that shine. His hair is perfect, something Levi finds annoying; no one with muscles and tone like this guy has should be keeping still enough that he should have perfect hair.

Levi closes the door behind himself, leaning back against it. The man's eyes go to him, traveling to his face first, then down, and very slowly up again. "Thank you for coming to see me."

One of Levi's eyebrows raises, but he answers politely enough, even if the empty words feel too-sweet and meaningless in his mouth. "Pleasure's all mine, but not for long." He hasn't survived in a fucking brothel for years without learning to play the game.

The man gives him a brief smile. "I'll bet. Is there a name I can call you?"

Smart man, and he's done this before, Levi knows immediately. First-timers ask, What's your name? This guy knows how it works, and his hand on the glass is steady as a rock. No nerves there. "Is there a name you want to call me?"

"Not particularly. We can skip that, if it makes you uncomfortable. I'm not here to ruffle any feathers."

There's something about the way the man moves that makes Levi hungry. For him, yes, but he's trained himself to want just about any man that has cash in his pocket. More than that, there's something practiced, precise, as if every motion he makes is deliberate and planned that makes Levi hungry for the kind of life this man must lead. "I wanna take your clothes off."

One blond eyebrow raises, and the little smile on the man's face is amused. "All right."

Levi moves, and at least he knows he can do this much right, even if Ted thinks he's pretty shit at his job (though not so shit he doesn't get customers coming back all the time). His hands slide under the lapels of the pressed black jacket, and ah, shit, he was right, there's broad hard muscles just about everywhere.

The man finishes his drink, and murmurs, "Would you like me to stand?" Those blue eyes are too close, and with the warmth of his chest against Levi's hands, it's the first time something has felt intimate in years.

Shit, get it together. You haven't even taken his fucking coat off yet, dumbfuck.

That doesn't stop Levi from being hard as a rock, even as he curses himself out. It disarms him, wanting to know about where this man comes from, why he's here, what his job is that keeps him so physically fit when he's obviously wealthy-laborers are supposed to be broke as fuck, and this man doesn't seem to care.

He hasn't wanted to know anything about one of his clients in a while, and that's kind of unsettling.

The man stands, and Levi scowls. "There's no need to be that tall," he mutters, and jerks the black coat off his shoulders, folding it neatly before laying it over the side of the chair.

"You don't have to fold it," the man just says, but he's smiling, and for the first time, he reaches for Levi, two large, warm, calloused hands cupping his face. "I'd like to kiss you."

"You would be a fucking weird one," Levi complains, but he doesn't pull away. If anything, he leans into it when the man brushes his lips against Levi's, deepening the kiss softly, and shit, shit, shit, a little brush of a tongue and the slight scrape of teeth shouldn't be enough to make him twitch.

He's got to get control back. Slender fingers make quick work of the buttons on that expensive shirt, and Levi feels like snarling when he sees the broad, toned chest revealed-until he sees the marks.

He sucks in a breath, looking up with more alert eyes than anyone has seen from him in a long time. The man looks down, knowing what he sees, saying nothing, volunteering nothing.


Levi strips the man in record time, tosses off his own clothes and shoves him down onto the bed, hearing a grunt. "You're stronger than you look."


"I like it."

Ted had said that Levi was this guy's "type." At the time, Levi had thought he meant small, since they get a lot of guys that like a boy they can throw around.

Now, he's not so sure.

He climbs on top, and lets the man run big hands over his skin, mapping and exploring it with practiced, experienced fingers. It should feel routine. It isn't like he hasn't had a man's hands on his body every day for years now.

Something about the heat that blazes in those blue eyes makes it a little different, and that pisses Levi off.

He settles his knees to either side of the man's hips, and reaches down to grab at his cock, but the man catches his wrist first.

That's a first. No one's usually fast enough to catch him when he moves.

"Just wait a moment," the man murmurs, and sits up, pulling Levi onto his lap. "Let me enjoy you first."

Then there are lips on his neck, trailing up to the shell of his ear, down to brush against a nipple before moving back up to his lips. The man takes his time, and there's no hesitation, no quiver in strong arms when they circle around to slide down to the small of his back, holding him firm.

"I changed my mind," the man murmurs against his skin. "Give me something to call you."

"Eli." It has most of the sounds of his real name, and that's usually good enough to make him look up when someone calls it.


Just for a minute, Levi wishes that was his real name. Even more dangerous, he kind of wants to hear the way his real name sounds in this man's mouth.

Get it the fuck together. It's just a job.

He rocks on the man's lap, letting himself be touched, stroked, kissed, nuzzled. His hands come up, tracing over old scars on the man's back, up his shoulders, the pads of his fingers finding marks wherever they go.

The man nips at his neck, and Levi hisses a little through his teeth, his fingers digging into the man's shoulders.

"Sorry, was that too hard?" he murmurs.

Levi shakes his head. "You can mark me up if you want," he breathes, scooting forward to let the head of his cock rub against the man's abdomen. "They'll just make you pay more for it downstairs."

There's the faintest tinge of guilt on the man's face, which Levi finds rather amusing. It's not guilty enough for this to be his first time leaving marks on a whore, and it's too guilty for a man who doesn't care. God, he's full of contradictions, this upper-class son of a bitch with 3-D Maneuver Gear marks all over his body and scars that say he's seen action.

There's only so much teasing, nipping, touching he can take, and Levi grabs the man's hand and shoves it down to his cock, bucking up against that warm, broad hand. "Feel how hard I am for you?" he breathes in the man's ear. "You think I get like this with just anyone?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

Wow, fuck this guy and his questions. Levi hopes he doesn't look too annoyed, but the look on the man's face says he does. "Whatever," Levi mutters, shifting back to rub his ass against the man's cock. "You wanna fuck me? Or you want something else?"

"What if I just wanted to touch you for a while?" That little smile is gone, replaced by a fierce intensity Levi isn't sure he wants to see. "Is that on the menu?"

"Your money," Levi says, but it's disconcerting. "You don't like my ass or something? I can use my fucking mouth if it's too dirty, Princess."

He can't even bring himself to regret the words, no matter how big this asshole's wallet is. It's not like he'll get to see most of the cash anyway. Not like he has much of a use for it.

"I never said that. I want it just fine." The man's hands slide down to grip his ass, squeezing gently. "We can do that, if you want."

Levi's face flushes low and angry. How is it suddenly his idea? His hands tighten on the man's shoulders, and he breathes in slow and deep. "Yeah. I want it."

"Do you?" The man shrugs slightly, and shifts his hips so the head of his cock rubs against Levi's hole, sliding forward and back, feeling the slickness already there. "And you're all ready for it, too."

"Usually it turns guys on that I'm all greased up and ready to go."

"I didn't say it didn't turn me on."

Levi's pretty sure he hates this guy.

For all the scars on his body, he's gentle when he squeezes, guides Levi down onto his cock, pushing harder when it takes a second for the head to go in. Levi waits for it, gasping, but this man isn't like most of them, doesn't remark, so tight, for a whore.

Then again, most men close their eyes. They think of the one they really want to be with, whoever's face is supposed to be stuck onto the hole they stick their dicks into.

This man looks straight at him. Not at his lips, not at his bobbing cock, not at where he's stretched almost uncomfortably wide around the girth of that thick cock, but at his eyes.

And when he surges in deep, he breathes the name Levi had given him, and he wishes for a crazy second that he'd given his real name.

He buries his face in the man's chest, forgetting for a second to hold his nose the way he usually does whenever he gets too close to a client's skin. It doesn't matter, because the man smells startlingly good, clean and fresh and not all soaked with nasty perfume like most from Above.

(Levi can tell in a second that this man has grown up in the sunlight, tended by nannies and playing under supervision, not beating rats off of his food and wondering how old he'd have to be to get taken seriously as a thief or a hooker, whatever paid the bills first. Fuck, this guy's probably smelled real roses, uncut and on the vine. Levi's seen them, far away and through fences.)

A hard, sucking bite to his neck at the same time as the man thrusts in deep combine to force a whimper from his throat, and Levi clings harder to the man's neck. "Shit, do that again," he mutters, forgetting himself, forgetting his place, forgetting everything but how good it feels to be fucked by this man.

It's just a job, dumbfuck, don't make such a big deal out of it.

It doesn't feel like "just a job," not when the man does as he says, biting and sucking and thrusting in deep and slow, strong arms taking over when Levi's thighs start quivering, raising him up and lowering him down in time with rhythmic thrusts.

Every now and then, the man will pull away from marking him up to stare into his eyes for a minute, hips never slowing, never stopping. If anything, looking in Levi's eyes makes him harder, and Levi groans when that cock swells inside him even more.

He thinks for a minute that this guy is going to take forever (he hates that), but it's probably no more than ten minutes before the man admits, "I'm close. Where do you want it, Eli?"

"S'fine to do it inside," Levi slurs a little, resting his forehead against the man's chest, humping back onto that thick cock stuffing him full. "Or on me, wherever you want."


It's unprofessional, but one of the man's thrusts catches him just right, and the head of his cock bumps against the man's stomach, and Levi hisses out a startled breath, hips snapping down and fingernails digging into the man's back, and he chokes down a noise when he comes hard, spilling over the man's belly, dripping down onto his own thighs.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

At least the man doesn't seem to notice how fucking embarrassing that is from the way his thrusts speed up, get uneven, and his hands dig deep into Levi's hips, yanking him down hard with every surge of his hips. The slap of flesh on flesh fills the room, and Levi can only let out pathetic little noises, cursing his own immature idiocy, trying to ride out the iron grip and consuming thrusts of the man fucking him hard.

He's still leaking when the man lets out a grunt and comes deep inside him, legs twitching, hands scrabbling for purchase on the man's back. Powerful arms encircle him as the man buries himself once, twice, three more times, twitching and spurting deep into him before he stills.

Levi tries to take a deep breath, but it's shaky. His nails are still sunken into the man's shoulders, and he uncurls his hands in a hurry. "Shit, sorry, I think I scratched you, fuck—"

"It's fine." The man's voice is deeper now, a husky rumble that makes Levi shiver down to his toes.

"It's fucking unprofessional of me, we're not supposed to mark any of the—"

"I said it's fine." The man pulls back slightly, brushing sweat-damp hair back from Levi's face and giving him another soft kiss. "No one's going to see."

Somehow, this man, this wealthy, successful, handsome man, doesn't have a wife. That doesn't make sense to Levi, but he'll take it, since it means he won't get in trouble. He wriggles a little, making a face as the man's softening cock slips out of his ass, followed by a gush of liquid. "Gross," he mutters, and shifts back away from the cooling spot on the bed.

"Are you always so fastidious, or do I seem especially dirty?" the man asks, mildly amused for all his relaxed posture.

"You're clean enough," Levi says begrudgingly, as if there is such a thing. He sighs, and raises up onto his knees. "You wanna watch it drip out? Some guys like that."

The man reaches for his jacket and pulls out a pressed white handkerchief. "I don't mind cleaning you up, if that's an acceptable substitute."

Levi swallows. This fucking guy throws him off his game, makes him think things he shouldn't, and he hates that. "Sure."

He lets himself be moved, expecting to be facedown, but the man gets him to lay on his side, sliding up behind him to wipe gently between his thighs. "Just let me know if I miss anything," he murmurs, and Levi shivers a little.

The touch of the cloth is soft, and Levi grabs it for a moment. "That's better stuff than we get down here," he says, fingering the fabric, looking for a monogram like every fucking rich son of a bitch has, and the man chuckles.

He bites Levi's neck softly, and his voice is darker when he rumbles, "Very funny. You think you're clever, don't you?"


"Looking for my initials?"

Shit, this guy is good. Levi shrugs. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

"You could have asked."

The cloth flutters down in front of him, and Levi snatches at it, startling the man when he tries to pull it away. "You're fast," the man says, not letting go.

Levi tugs. "Yeah. Gimme."

"What if I don't?"

Levi opens his mouth to reply, but the man rolls him over, one strong arm sliding around his waist, mouth fastening to his with licks, nips, slow, easy sucks of his lips.

"Then," the man says against his mouth, "I'll have to be devious."

One swift tug, and the cloth comes free from Levi's hand. The man slowly rolls away to stand, stretching out his muscles. "You could have held onto that," he notes, folding the cloth a few times before tucking it into his pocket. "You have good reflexes."

"That's why they pay me the big bucks. My reflexes."

The man snorts, and dresses quietly, fastening up each button properly, not hurrying and making mistakes like men do when they're ashamed of what they've done in this room. "Which are your busiest days?"


"So I know when to come. I'd rather come when you won't lose too much business from those bites after I'm gone."

Levi glares at him. It's sort of a sign of affection. "Am I supposed to say that you can come whenever you want, thank you sir for your big dick?"

"Fine, I'll come whenever I want." The man gives him another small smile, undeterred by the hissing cat look on Levi's face, somehow. "And I'll be back soon."

His hair is still perfect when he leaves, damn him.