Work Text:
Sebastian misses last call by five minutes. It’s pouring down, the pitted sidewalk riddled with potholes turned into deep puddles from the rain, splashing up the legs of his jeans as he runs. The door is opening as he arrives, a figure scurrying out under the shelter of an opening umbrella, heedless of Sebastian's approach.
“We’re closed, sir,” a bored voice calls out in a nasally monotone as Sebastian steps inside.
“Excuse me - ” he starts.
“We’re done for the day,” the assistant intones, like she’s said it a million times. She doesn’t look up from her paperwork.
He’d left on time from work, taken two lines and a smelly, rattling bus which had seemed to hit every stop on the way. He’d ran the rest through the cold and wet, tucking his messenger bag under his arm, his cap nearly flying off his head. Every audition was important but this one especially so - this was the one. He’d had the unbelievable serendipity of meeting the playwright himself at the shop, serving him equal parts coffee and smiles, chatting him up and using every charm, until he’d invited Sebastian to audition for a role, told him what a great fit he’d be. He’d gotten a copy of the script before anyone else, memorized the lines until the ink was bleeding onto his fingertips, pacing the tiny living room of their shitty, railroad-style apartment.
“I know,” Sebastian says, breathless, apologetic. “Please - if you could just - ”
“Sir. Sir,” she says, looking up at him finally over her glasses. She holds up her hand, pristine, stiletto nails gleaming under the lights.
A door to the side opens.
“Let him in, Karen,” a voice calls out.
*
The guy waiting inside looks more like a CEO molded from Sebastian’s fantasies than a casting director. He has dark brown hair and a trimmed beard, powerful shoulders underneath a soft cashmere sweater. He introduces himself, Chris, and Sebastian’s instantly nervous beyond the usual audition jitters. Sebastian’s talking a mile a minute as Chris leads him in and sits behind a desk, tipping back in his chair, script in hand. Sebastian's apologizing, professing his love for the script and his talks with the writer, how he’d said Sebastian would be perfect for the role.
Chris makes an exaggerated frown, tilting his face to the side.
“He told you you were made for the part?” he repeats, skeptically. Sebastian flushes. He can hear how silly the words sound coming out of Chris’ mouth; like something a child would say, feverish with naivety. The words to counteract it are pressing up, ready to tumble out, ready to explain how they sounded when Sebastian had heard them, not silly at all, more like destiny.
At Sebastian’s flustered silence, Chris tips back down in his chair, chucking the script onto the desk.
He heaves a weary sigh, and gets to his feet, walking around to Sebastian’s side of the desk, sitting back against its edge.
“Listen, Sebastian,” Chris says, patience heavy in his voice, face the picture of concern, “in this business we have a thing called paying your dues. You know what that means?”
Yeah, Sebastian knows. He’s got the cockroach infested apartment and the minimum wage job, the two years now with not as much as Tree #3 in a school play to show for it. He blinks in answer, suddenly nervous at Chris’ proximity, and in turn angry at himself for the way his stomach twists. Chris is even bigger up close, the expensive fabric of his slacks pulling taut around hard, muscled thighs.
Chris continues, apparently undisturbed by Sebastian’s lack of response,
“It means sometimes you gotta pay first. Spend money to make money.”
A pause. Chris smiles gently.
“You got any money on you?”
Sebastian blinks up at him, confused.
“Um. Not really. I mean. Not a substantial amount.”
“Then you trade,” Chris says, and his eyes are intent on Sebastian’s face, crinkling up slightly at the corners with amusement. “You trade a good or service. You following here, Sebastian?”
The meaning sinks in suddenly, a pebble dropping into a pond. Sebastian’s cheeks flame hot.
The words are out of his mouth without a second thought, propelled by desperation.
“What service do you have in mind?” Sebastian asks, mouth dry.
“Depends on what you’re offering,” Chris replies.
Sebastian wipes his palms against his thighs. His eyes flick down to Chris’ crotch.
Chris’ eyes are on him when he looks up.
“You’ll give me the role? You don’t even want to see me through a scene?”
“That depends entirely on job performance,” Chris says, and he smiles at his own joke. He doesn’t move from his perch, unnaturally still, just watching the gears turn in Sebastian’s head.
Sebastian wonders if he was telegraphing his attraction that readily, if Chris knew he was exactly the kind of guy Sebastian would happily suck off in the dingy bathroom of a club, just to get on his knees next to expensive leather shoes, to feel the cold metal of a Rolex pressing against the side of his face as someone held him down. He thinks if he’d just gotten laid he wouldn’t have perked up like a fucking mare in heat as soon as he’d entered the room, smelling a stud nearby and ready. He’s equal parts shame and confusion at the way Chris had seemingly seen right through him, and fear that Chris is conning him out of a job.
If he really does get the part on the other hand, this could be his first big break. It could change everything.
Sebastian sets his bag on the other side of the chair. Chris just sits there and watches, looking mildly bored, as Sebastian sinks to his knees on the floor. He shuffles forward half a step closer, and looks up at Chris once, ready to be stopped, or told it’s a joke, or that he’d outrageously misunderstood. But Chris just raises an eyebrow in a way that makes Sebastian flush, embarrassed. His fingers fumble at Chris’ belt before tugging it loose, and unzipping the front. Chris adjusts his stance so he’s standing, legs spread, still leaning lazily back on the desk.
He’s wearing tight, black briefs under his pants. Sebastian reaches inside for the opening in the fabric and takes Chris out, going up on his knees so his face is closer. Chris has the sort of thick cock that has Sebastian’s mouth instantly watering, like some kind of perverted Pavlovian response. He’s not even hard yet, but he swells in Sebastian’s grip as he strokes him. He’s perfectly calm when Sebastian glances up to check on him, like Sebastian’s reciting his CV and not about to blow him.
“I have to say you aren’t impressing me so far, Sebastian,” Chris says, like he feels bad for him, and Sebastian’s heart leaps to his throat.
“Sorry,” Sebastian says quickly, giving Chris a firm squeeze.
“Sebastian, I own this production and everyone in it. When you address me, you call me sir ,” Chris says, gently, like he’s talking to a very stupid child.
Sebastian’s cheeks flame. He stumbles over the words quickly.
“Sorry - I’m sorry, sir.”
“That’s better,” Chris says. “Now show me how much you want this job.”
“Yes, sir,” Sebastian replies immediately. He strokes Chris, not having to be told anything further before he’s licking up the underside with the flat of his tongue, and sucking the head into his mouth. His eyelids flutter shut automatically at that first taste - he can’t seem to help it, even humiliated and terrified and in full knowledge of the situation he’s in - he still feels his body responding to the taste of cock in his mouth, can feel his dick give an interested twitch in his jeans.
Chris gives his first response, exhaling out audibly. His fingers card through Sebastian’s hair, knocking the cap on his head to the floor. Sebastian responds eagerly, taking Chris in as much as he can, lips stretching wide around the thick width. Determined, Sebastian takes up a slow, sure rhythm, bobbing his head up and down while he strokes the base. His mouth makes a wet, sucking sound that shoots directly to Sebastian’s dick. Chris gets so hard and flushed red in Sebastian’s hand and under his lips that he can’t fully suppress a weak moan when he tastes precome on his tongue.
“That’s it,” Chris breathes out, his fingers massaging Sebastian’s scalp briefly. Sebastian looks up, ready to pull out all the stops, and feeds Chris’ dick slowly into his mouth, so far back the head hits the back of his throat. He focuses on relaxing and breathing through his nose and ignoring the way tears collect in the corner of his eyes from the pressure. He knows it's working when Chris’ mouth falls open, his eyes dark and intent on Sebastian’s face, and his hand comes down so he can trace the stretch of Sebastian’s lips around him. Sebastian stays down as long as he can, swallowing around Chris’s length and squeezing at the base.
“You’re a natural little cocksucker,” Chris breathes out, and Sebastian moans despite himself, moving quickly to press the heel of his hand against the way his dick fattens up and jolts in his jeans. Chris laughs, a low, mean sound that twists Sebastian up inside and makes him hot everywhere else. He pulls off with a gasp, coughing around his wet throat, and pulls at Chris’ cock quickly, slick from his mouth.
Chris is breathing faster, pink at his cheeks.
“You like that dick?” he asks.
Sebastian shifts on his knees looking up at Chris, the powerful set of his body still fully dressed, with his big cock springing out naked and wet and suddenly Sebastian’s imagining Chris bending him right over the desk and pulling his jeans down just enough so he could push right in, leave a load up in him and send him on his way.
“Yes, sir,” Sebastian answers, voice weak.
“You like having it in your mouth?” Chris asks.
“Yes, sir,” Sebastian says, and this time he can’t help but shift again, squeezing desperately at his leaking cock. The movement draws Chris’ attention down. Sebastian tries to relax his hand and move it away unobtrusively but Chris is already raising his eyebrows in amusement. He brings one foot up slowly and presses against Sebastian’s crotch with the sole of his shoe.
“Oh,” Sebastian says helplessly. His free hand grasps at Chris’ thigh pleadingly.
“We’re gonna have issues if you get this distracted doing your job,” Chris says, slowly.
“No - sir, I won’t - ” Sebastian replies quickly. He bites off a whine as Chris removes the pressure, nearly curling over in a confusing mix of disappointment and relief.
Chris pushes Sebastian’s arm away and takes himself in hand. He sighs again, that weary sound that makes Sebastian feel like profusely apologizing, like he’s wasting Chris’ time.
“Let’s see how well you follow instructions,” he says. Sebastian keeps his eyes on Chris’ face. “You’re gonna do your very best to finish in the next minute. You swallow every drop I let down that whore throat. You get any of it on the floor you’re licking it up and saying thank you. Is that understood?”
Sebastian feels as small and insignificant as a roach on his kitchen floor when Chris pins him with a look, burning up at his words.
“Yes, sir,” he says. When Chris just continues staring at him Sebastian scrambles to his knees again. He wastes no time, hot and desperate for it, as he takes Chris into his mouth again. He tastes so good, feels good stretching out Sebastian's’ lips and throat, with the promise of power brimming right underneath the surface, in his muscled thighs, his broad shoulders and chest.
Sebastian swallows quickly when he feels the first burst of wet in his mouth, squeezing out the rest with desperate fingers. There’s so much come that even doing his best Sebastian feels a blurt of it dripping down his chin, more spurting out as he moves his head. He’s coughing and gasping for breath when Chris is done.
Chris is breathing hard, face flushed.
“Clean it up,” he says. Sebastian licks Chris’ cock clean with his tongue, slurping at the head. When he’s done he shuffles back on his knees and scans the floor quickly, stomach twisting. Chris moves off the desk, tucking himself back in and zipping up.
It’s the floor dozens of people walked over today, reading their lines and acting out their scenes, sitting just as nervous as Sebastian was in his chair. The floor Chris himself crossed multiple times. And it has two spots of come on it now, glistening in the light.
“Go ahead,” Chris says. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, knocking the side of his shoe against Sebastian’s thigh.
Sebastian swallows around his bruised throat. He doesn’t need to be reminded of Chris’ instructions again.
“Thank you, sir,” he says, weakly, and he leans down and licks up the first spot of come. Chris’ eyes are fixed on him when he looks up, the dark of his pupil eating up the bright blue surrounding ring.
Sebastian curls down next to the second spot and presses his tongue to the cool tile floor, tasting dust and grit. He swallows.
“Thank you, sir,” he says again, when he sits back up. He can’t bring his head up for the life of him, curled down over his shame.
Chris is silent for a long moment. Then his shoes disappear from Sebastian’s view. The enormity of what he’s done, how far he’s debased himself, hits him in a devastating wave. There’s the sound of Chris gathering his things. A drawer opens then slams shut. Sebastian wishes he could crawl under the desk and never be seen again but he stays in place, trembling and exhausted.
Chris returns. He flicks a black card to the floor next to Sebastian. It has no name, only a number in white ink. Sebastian waits until Chris is moving to scrabble for it with stiff fingers.
He hears Chris whistling as the door shuts.
*
Sebastian walks out in a daze. The lobby is empty when he leaves. His walk to the line seems to pass in a fog. Every time he swallows around his raw throat it's like he can feel Chris again, pressing in hot and heavy, his grip tight on Sebastian’s head.
He rubs his fingers through his hair and buttons his coat up tight. The rain has dialed down to a light drizzle, and dusk is quickly approaching as he boards his first train back.
Chuck is in the kitchen when Sebastian gets home.
“Hey, man,” he calls out cheerfully. “How’d it go?”
Sebastian is only dimly thankful for the warm shelter of their apartment. He pulls his boots off at the door.
“Fine,” he says, tugging at the front of his coat. Chuck frowns back at him, cleaning a dish at the sink, but he doesn’t press any further.
The rooms are set up in a line, so he has to walk through every room on the way to get to his own, at the very back. George grunts up at him in greeting from his desktop as Sebastian steps through, and Sebastian waves vaguely in return.
He shuts the blinds in his room and sheds his clothing rapidly. He’s got his jeans wrapped around his ankles and his hand shoved down his briefs before he groans and forces himself to stop. He’s done enough damage at Chris’ feet but at least then he’d done it with a goal in mind, a purpose, even if he’d gotten off hard on it like a freak. Now he has no excuse, other than the hot, squirmy way he feels inside every time he remembers Chris’ voice, what Sebastian had done for him, easy and desperate and dirty.
*
Sebastian gets a call the next day; the offer of a recurring character in a sitcom, with a first season already pre-ordered and pilot filming starting the next week. He’s silent down the line for a long time, in shock. Then he fumbles out an agreement numbly, and hangs up.
He gets a text from Chris in the afternoon and the address of a professional building downtown.
The same assistant who’d turned him away the day before leads Sebastian to Chris’ office.
Chris is at the door when it swings open. Sebastian blinks up at him for a moment before Chris is ushering him through.
“Sebastian,” Chris says easily, pleasant. The room is outfitted in stylish, minimalist decor. There’s a miniature zen garden on a low coffee table in the middle of a sitting area to Sebastian’s left. Chris’ desk is sleek and pin-neat to his right, the entire space flooded from the light through the floor to ceiling windows.
“Congratulations are in order,” Chris says. He takes a seat on the end of the longer sofa, crossing his legs easily at the knee.
“Thank you,” Sebastian says slowly. He takes a few steps closer, standing before Chris, unsure of whether he should sit as well. There’s a pause in which Chris just stares at him. Sebastian swallows nervously.
“Thank you, sir,” he tries again, words soft like they could be heard through the walls. Chris smiles.
“Bet you thought I was just pulling your leg,” he says. Sebastian fails to answer, because yes, but he’s too embarrassed to admit to the frantic aftermath. Chris reaches for something in his inner pocket.
“Something like that,” he replies, watching Chris’ hands move. He’s got a checkbook and a pen, and as Sebastian looks on Chris rests the book on the back of his knee and flips it open. His pen moves across a page.
“Come here,” Chris says. He tears off a check, and holds it out between two fingers. Sebastian steps closer, looking from Chris’ face to the thin paper held outward between them. He takes it with hesitant fingers, then flips it over and stares down in shock at the number scrawled across the second line.
“This is a joke,” he says, stupidly. It’s a number he’s only dreamed of seeing, enough so he could quit his job and look for bits full time and easily live well above his current comfort level for the next year.
Chris huffs out a laugh. His foot moves lazily in the air, hand relaxed on the sofa next to him.
“Take it to the bank and see if it’s still a joke when you cash it in,” Chris replies.
Sebastian looks up at him, relaxing his fingers before he manages to crumble the check in his grip.
“This can’t be for the show,” he says. His cheeks heat up under Chris’ level gaze. Chris takes another moment to look at him before he’s on his feet. Sebastian has to suppress the urge to step back, stomach twisting as Chris slowly approaches. He can’t keep Chris’ gaze for long, eyes flitting down to the floor where Chris stops an inch away. Sebastian can almost feel Chris’ body heat radiating outwards and he basks in it silently. He wants to press his cheek to the soft fabric of Chris’ tight sweater, easily outlining his muscled chest.
“That’s sweet,” Chris murmurs, tucking his fingers under Sebastian’s chin, raising his head, and his voice drifts back in Sebastian’s head - natural little cocksucker .
“It’s for future services rendered,” Chris says, thumb sweeping along Sebastian’s jaw line. “If you need me to spell it out for you I can, but I think you get the idea. You can leave it on the table and walk out and the part’s still yours.”
“Or,” Sebastian prompts, and he can barely get himself to meet Chris’ eyes again, but he manages.
“Or you go with what your gut’s telling you. You take the money and you give me something in return. Whatever I want, whenever I want it,” Chris says, and his voice dips low and nasty. “You can crawl at my feet again, get your dick leaking just to kiss the ground I walk on.”
Sebastian’s insides go liquid.
“Tell me you haven’t been thinking about that,” Chris is saying. “Or whatever filth you see when you close your eyes and touch yourself at night.”
Sebastian’s mouth opens soundlessly. Chris huffs out a laugh. An intercom buzzes at his desk, and he looks away, past Sebastian.
“I don’t want it,” Sebastian blurts out.
Chris looks back at him, a swift expression of surprise that quickly smoothes over. He has the look of a man who hasn’t been told no very often in life, and Sebastian feels a tiny curl of vindictive pleasure. In the resulting silence Sebastian lets the check flutter to the floor from his fingers and turns on his heel, quickly hurrying out the door. He hears Chris answering the call as the door shuts behind him, voice strong and steady, like nothing’s happened.
*
Sebastian works double shifts for the next few days. He’s leaving after working the early morning slot when a black Lexus pulls up beside him, windows tinted to hide the interior. It rolls to a stop and Sebastian’s next step falters. He pauses. The back window rolls down.
“Get in,” Chris’ familiar voice calls out. Sebastian feels a curl of something like anger. He steps to the car and pulls the door open, slipping inside, ready to confront his imminent firing.
Chris is seated at the far end, legs spread wide, relaxed. Sebastian shuts the door behind him and the car rolls into motion. There’s a little window separating the driver from the back end.
“You didn’t have to come all this way just to fire me,” Sebastian says stiffly, staring straight ahead. Chris makes a soft, scoffing noise. His face is turned Sebastian’s way.
“Your part’s safe. Relax,” Chris says.
There’s a brief silence in which Sebastian tries to process the words and their implications. Chris presses a button and the window cracks open in front of them.
“Take us around the block,” he says, then it rolls back up.
“Then what do you want,” Sebastian asks. He turns in his seat to face Chris, and his throat tightens up just looking at him. He’s dressed simply in a dark blue sweater and black pants, watch shining at his wrist, hair slicked back and beard impeccably groomed. The car turns smoothly around a corner.
“Come here,” Chris says softly. His hand lands on Sebastian’s thigh and he tugs him closer. Sebastian slides across the seat awkwardly, then stares down at where their knees almost touch.
“I don’t want your money,” he grits out, despite the way his pulse is picking up, and how intimately aware he is of Chris’ hand on him, the proximity of it to his crotch.
“Message fully received,” Chris says dryly. His eyes are on Sebastian as his hand slides up Sebastian’s leg. Sebastian makes a sound low in his throat as Chris finds his dick through the cheap fabric of his work pants and massages firmly at it.
“You reach over and push that button any time you want. Tell David to stop this car and he will.”
Sebastian’s eyes shut briefly as Chris kneads at him, dick fattening up happy and eager. He sways slightly in his seat as the car changes lanes.
“You want that?” Chris murmurs. His hand stills. He brushes the tips of his fingers along the length of Sebastian’s hardening dick, trapped against the side of his leg. Sebastian’s hips jerk up once. He shakes his head.
“No.”
“No, what?” Chris asks.
“No, sir,” Sebastian replies.
Chris lets out a soft exhale at Sebastian’s response.
He gives Sebastian a firm squeeze, and blood rushes down, continuing to pool in his groin. Sebastian’s hands are flat on the seat. He tenses up with his whole body every time Chris squeezes at him. Chris is turned in his seat, leaning over Sebastian so his mouth is at Sebastian’s ear.
“You look like a good little boy sitting there, you know that, Sebastian?” Chris says. He’s breathing hard. “Just waiting for his daddy to play with him.”
Sebastian can’t bite back the involuntary, shocked moan that escapes him at Chris’ words, his whole body thrumming with the rush of blood through his veins. He’s never - ever - but Chris just knew, looked right through him and pulled it out into the world, molded Sebastian’s most secret, sick desires into words.
He squirms as Chris kneads at his crotch, then taps the flat of his fingers against Sebastian’s swollen, trapped balls.
“Oh, shit,” Sebastian says, eyes screwing up tight.
“I wanna hear you say it,” Chris says, voice rough, he threads his fingers through Sebastian’s hair and tilts his head back, exposing his neck. It makes everything go tight inside him.
“Say what I am to a filthy boy like you.”
His hand tightens on Sebastian’s dick and it blurts out a desperate spot of wet and the words punch out of him, weak and wavery.
“Please - daddy,” Sebastian says. Chris gives a throaty groan, leaning over suddenly to capture Sebastian’s lips.
Chris kisses him deep, wet and filthy, pressing him back against the seat. Sebastian clutches at his front and tilts his hips up for Chris’ hand which has gone to grip at Sebastian’s hips.
“Jesus,” Chris breathes out, pulling back. He tugs Sebastian to the floor, and Sebastian slides down on weak knees. Chris shifts in his seat, adjusting his crotch with one hand where he’s gone stiff. Sebastian sits down, shins flat to the floor, then shuffles forward cautiously, shaking with adrenaline and desperate for Chris’ touch.
“Take it out,” Chris says, nodding at Sebastian’s crotch. He’s composed again, though the color’s still high in his cheeks. Sebastian unzips his pants with fingers gone clumsy and pulls his dick out of the opening, flushed and eager. It hardens further as Chris looks on.
“All of it,” Chris says. His hands are at his thighs, relaxed, his chest moving as he breathes. Sebastian takes his heavy balls out so they hang between his open legs. His stomach twists and turns and when Chris says “Hands down,” he barely manages to stop from giving himself a desperate stroke.
“Are you proud of that little boy cock?” Chris asks. Sebastian flushes hard. He isn’t little by any means, although he’s certainly smaller than Chris. He feels achy and exposed, his insides twisting in weird pleasure to have Chris looking at him, shaming him.
“No, daddy,” he mumbles, and the words make his eyes go wet with humiliation. He wants Chris touching him, and he’s immediately aware what a reaction such a request would get.
“Put your hand on it,” Chris says. “Show daddy what you’ve got.”
Sebastian fumbles for his dick like it’s his first time. He strokes it from root to tip, eyes fixed to Chris’ face. He rocks to the side as the car turns another corner and his hand comes up swiftly to grasp at Chris’ leg. Chris looks at it like a bug’s landed on him. Sebastian snatches it back.
“Sorry,” he gasps out. Chris crooks an eyebrow and Sebastian wants to curl over at getting it wrong so quickly. “I’m sorry, daddy.”
“You keep your filthy hands to yourself until I tell you, is that understood?”
“Yes, daddy.”
Then Chris’ voice goes soft again.
“You’re gonna try your very best now not to waste my time and come as fast as you can. Show me how much you want my dick down your throat again, you got that?”
“Yes, sir. Yes, daddy,” Sebastian replies quickly, hand already flying to his hard dick, pulling at it frantically, like he does when he’s desperate and trying to be quick, like he used to do when he’d first discovered what else he could do with it other than take a piss, furtive and quiet under his sheets.
It’s embarrassingly fast. He’s so turned on just sitting at Chris’ feet, with his eyes on him and his words filtering through Sebastian’s brain, feeling small and insignificant and openly desperate.
He groans and his eyes shut. His dick spurts in his hand.
“Squeeze it all out,” Chris says. Sebastian does, wringing out every drop, his balls drawing up tight, gut clutching tense. When he’s done he lets himself breathe for a while, curled over, before settling back stiffly on his heels. His come splattered hand rests in his lap like a crime scene, dick soft. The car changes lanes again and comes to a final stop. Sebastian finds himself shaking minutely in the silence.
“Put it back in and zip yourself up,” Chris says. Sebastian obeys, wet fingers careful and awkward. He’s sticky and wet at the crotch. Chris hands him a tissue from somewhere and Sebastian wipes at his hand. He feels nauseous all of a sudden, until Chris heaves him up and into his lap with both hands fitted under Sebastian’s arms. He goes willingly, shaking.
“David can drop you off wherever you want,” Chris murmurs, kissing at Sebastian’s face. He tugs him down to the seat besides him, giving him a side glance so he can see Sebastian agreeing. Sebastian swallows and nods his head jerkily, shoving his shirt down and smoothing over the front.
Then Chris is pulling his phone from his pocket and opening the door.
*
David drives Sebastian home. He stumbles out of the car on shaky legs, feeling weird and queasy inside all the way until he’s slumping into bed and wriggling out of his shoes. He pulls the comforter up high and stuffs his face against his pillow, breathing in deep until he’s calm and the nausea abates.
Chuck heats up a can of soup after he calls out for Sebastian and finds him rolled up in bed like a burrito, too tired to answer. They eat sitting tailor style on the rug in Sebastian’s room. Sebastian lets his mind wander, watching Chuck sip from his bowl.
Chris texts him the next day. Sebastian feels the phone buzz in his pocket as he’s taking orders at the register so he ignores it until his first break. He’d gotten the script courier delivered to work that morning, and a schedule emailed to him with a starting date for a table read. He fully plans to work through the initial pre-production as much as he can, until he has to drop it for the shoot. If he can’t pick it back up when it's done Sebastian knows he can easily get any number of odd jobs afterwards like he’s done before.
The text from Chris is simple and short.
Come by the office in an hour.
Sebastian sits on one of the discarded crates they keep behind the shop to serve as furniture during their breaks.
Work until 6, Sebastian types back.
He fully expects to hear his phone ring, to have Chris telling him to take off work anyways; another ridiculous offer on the table. Instead Chris shoots back an address and a time: 7PM, nothing else, and doesn’t text Sebastian again.
*
Chris’ building stretches so far up it disappears into low, grey clouds, which are darkening as dusk approaches. The clerk at the desk inside nods at Sebastian as he passes. Chris’ floor is the last number amongst a panel of buttons, predictably. Sebastian has to swallow twice to clear his ears as the elevator pulls up and up. Chris’ voice floats back to him as he stands and waits, and he shivers inside remembering the way he’d answered back, sat at Chris’ feet and called him daddy, felt the tumultuous twist of hot and good and dirty roiling low in his belly, making him instantly hard when he thought about it afterwards.
He wants it again. It’s in him like a deep hunger, the tip of the iceberg exposed, so much more waiting to be sated.
Chris has the penthouse from the looks of it. The hallway carpet is thick and soft underfoot, muffling Sebastian’s footsteps. He presses the buzzer and waits for all of a minute before its opening. Chris is on the phone when he answers, wearing a light grey sweater and dark jeans. He’s barefoot. He gives Sebastian a once-over before waving him inside. The apartment is wide and spacious; high ceilings and big windows, a slightly homier mirror of Chris’ office. There’s the sound of running water somewhere in the background.
Chris leads him to the living room. Tinny, rapid speech spills distantly through the line at his ear. Chris says little in return. They stop at the sofa and Sebastian makes as if to sit down, until Chris points to a spot on the floor. Sebastian flushes. He kneels down slowly, but Chris is already walking away.
Sebastian sits for an indeterminate amount of time. He could just get up and walk right back out, he thinks. He can hear Chris somewhere, talking, the sound of paper rustling and the occasional whoosh of a desk drawer opening and closing. But Sebastian can’t keep the crawl of anticipation moving from the pit of his stomach up his throat, making him shift where he’s sitting back on his heels, imagination running wild.
Chris ends the call and there’s a brief silence. He appears on the other end of the sofa, taking a seat and rubbing at his face.
“Come here,” he says. Sebastian hesitates for all of a second, making as if to get to his feet, but Chris just points to a spot on the floor next to him and Sebastian feels his face go hot. He drops down to all fours and crawls the couple of feet slowly in the space between the coffee table and the sofa, like an animal, shame burning in a bright flame inside him.
“Before me,” Chris says. It sounds familiar, like the commands you’d give a dog. Sebastian crawls into the space between Chris’ spread legs.
“You miss me?” Chris asks.
Missing was one word for it. It was more like a fever dream replayed on automatic reset in his head. He’d itched for it as soon as he’d gotten Chris’ second text.
Sebastian nods his head mutely.
“You’re gonna have to show me just how much,” Chris says quietly. “You remember who I am to you?”
Sebastian tries to clear his throat.
“Yes,” Sebastian mumbles, willing the words up, forcing it out over the way he wants to curl up and hide. “You’re my daddy.”
Chris eyes go dark. There’s a tense silence as he sits, completely still.
“That’s right,” he says finally, “Now daddy’s had a rough day, so you’re gonna help him relax as best as you can.”
Sebastian jerks his head into a nod. He keeps his eyes somewhere at Chris’ throat, watching it move as he speaks, the line of his collarbone just visible at the v-neck of his sweater.
“Get up,” Chris says. Sebastian scrambles to his feet. “Arms at your sides.”
He keeps his arms down and stares somewhere in the space between Chris’ knees.
“You showed off your cute little dick yesterday but you didn’t show daddy your hole. That’s not very considerate is it?”
Sebastian grips at the sides of his pants. He feels like his mind is sinking into a cloud, every part of his body tuning in to Chris’ voice. He blinks. Shakes his head.
“Turn around, then,” Chris says. He’s still leaning back in his seat, arm splayed out along the back of the sofa, completely relaxed. “Bend over and show me.”
Sebastian pulls his pants off first, then his briefs, stepping out of both quickly. His dick is soft but gaining interest, and his breath is catching in his throat. He’s debating the how of it when Chris speaks up.
“Hold onto your ankles,” he says.
Sebastian bends over, obeying. He has to splay his legs wide to do it so he won’t fall forward, and it sticks his ass out in the process. Blood rushes to his head. He bites back a soft sound as Chris leans forward and palms one cheek, spreading him open.
“That’s cute,” Chris says, in a way that still manages to flood Sebastian with embarrassment. Then Chris is leaning forward and spitting right on Sebastian’s hole, wet splattering in his asscrack and dripping down. Sebastian makes a sound before he can help it, shock and sharp desire pulsing through him. What little blood that isn’t rushing to his face pools in his groin, his dick chubbing up, dangling between his legs. Chris’ fingers press through the wet, rubbing slowly at Sebastian’s entrance.
“Say thank you daddy, for spitting on me,” Chris says.
“Thank you daddy - for spitting on me,” Sebastian repeats dutifully, voice weak, shame closing up his throat. He lets out a helpless moan as Chris’ fingers continue their movement, his hole flexing eagerly at the stimulation. His mouth falls open at the building tension in his gut.
“Now that’s not so bad, huh,” Chris says. “Daddy just wants to see what hungry hole he’s feeding his dick into tonight. And it wants me pretty bad, just like you wanted me in your slut mouth.”
He brings the flat of two fingers down hard, slapping right at Sebastian’s hole.
“Oh - ” Sebastian gasps out, the feeling shooting right through him. Chris’ fingers are back to rubbing. He stops for a moment and Sebastian hears the whisper of clothing, Chris pulling himself out.
“Turn around,” Chris says, tugging at Sebastian’s hip. “Get up here.”
He’s gotten a packet of lube from somewhere and his dick is hard, sticking up out of the opening in his pants, shiny wet. Sebastian’s pulse leaps just looking at it, remembering the way it felt plunging down his throat, imagining it inside him. He climbs on top of the sofa, straddling Chris, careful not to touch him or anything else.
Chris’ hands settle around Sebastian’s hips.
“Wanna sit on this dick?” Chris asks softly, thumbs swiping at Sebastian’s skin.
“Yes, daddy. Please.” Sebastian whispers, and his voice almost breaks, he’s that desperate for it, all the things Chris says he is.
“Go ahead. Be a good boy and sit down.”
Chris’s hands fall away so Sebastian has to reach down and steady himself, biting at his lip as he tries to line Chris up, grabbing at the back of the sofa to help balance.
He closes his eyes at the first, delicious press in, a whine escaping behind closed lips as he breathes out and bears down.
“Yeah. There you go,” Chris says, watching him.
Sebastian’s lips part as Chris opens him up; hot and hard and filling Sebastian in a slow, wet slide in, in, in.
“Oh, oh,” he lets out weakly.
“Yeah, you little slut, take it in.” Chris breath huffs out against Sebastian’s throat. “Show daddy how much you love this dick.”
His hands settle on Sebastian’s thighs. Sebastian looks down between them as he starts to move, fucking himself down, circling his hips when he settles in Chris’ lap again to feel him move in his gut.
He feels his orgasm building with every thrust of Chris inside, his thighs beginning to burn as he works himself on it, thrusting down over and over again. Chris gives him a lazy stroke before letting him go, and Sebastian nearly sobs out at the loss. His hard, dripping dick slaps against his stomach as he moves.
“Gonna let me come in that boy cunt, baby?”
“Yeah. Yes. Yes, daddy, come in me.” Sebastian spills out, high and reedy as he thrusts down desperately. His rhythm goes off as he feels his orgasm climbing up inside him, the rest of his senses beginning to mute, and then he doesn’t have to be prompted - “Thank you - oh, uh - thank you daddy, thank you,” he's saying in a rush, moaning through his open mouth as his dick jerks and splatters come between them and his ass clenches down tight. Chris grabs him with a responding groan and pulls Sebastian down on his dick as he follows. They breathe against each other for a long moment, harsh gusts of air against Sebastian’s throat as Chris leans against him and catches his breath.
*
Sebastian has plenty of opportunity to think back on how he’d returned Chris’ offered check over the next few days. Even with the extra shifts he barely makes rent for the month with some change to spare. He isn’t able to make it the few times Chris texts, beyond exhausted on the days he manages to not be so busy that he forgets to eat lunch.
He works his schedule around pre-production. He approaches his first table-read anxious to impress and leaves on a high, exchanging numbers with a good number of the other actors and making what he hopes is a favorable impression on the showrunner and producers.
On the third day Sebastian’s waiting on-set while the crew sets up, joking with Dan -the guy who plays his brother - coffee cradled in both hands. He hears a shout of recognition from the director and turns to see Chris walking into the warehouse, two assistants tagging behind. Chris waves jauntily at the director who’s already up and out of his chair. The conversation’s muffled through the distance but Sebastian feels his insides freeze all the same. Exhausted as he’d been he’d still managed to jerk it each night, pressing his hot face to his pillow and twisting his fingers futilely inside himself, remembering the way Chris had filled him up, made him turn over and spat on him, said the words Sebastian repeats over and over in his head until he comes with a muffled groan.
He manages to turn back to the conversation at hand, thoroughly regretting not taking Chris up the times he’d texted, aching inside and frustrated at himself for it.
Chris moves off and the director returns. They shoot the scene in a handful of takes and it’s another long wait for set-up.
*
Sebastian texts Chris an hour before leaving that evening. He’s hailing a cab as soon as he gets the answering buzz, fumbling at his phone and glancing at his screen just quick enough to see the response before he’s stepping out into the street.
Chris leads him to what Sebastian assumes is a spare bedroom - no personal effects apparent apart from its bare furnishings and a wall sculpture hanging in the space between two windows.
“Get on the bed,” Chris says. “Clothes off.”
He walks over to the dresser and opens a drawer while Sebastian tugs at his shirt and wriggles out of his pants, breath catching.
“On your back,” Chris says, returning. He tosses a packet of lube to the mattress next to Sebastian.
“Show me where you want to be touched,” Chris says. Sebastian feels his face go instantly hot. He pulls his legs to his chest and spreads his knees, exposing the desperate parts of him. The position makes his breath puff out in short bursts. Chris wets his fingers and brings them between Sebastian’s legs. He’s looking at Sebastian’s face, rubbing idly at his hole.
Sebastian’s breath whines out. He clutches at the back of his thighs and pulls them closer, making his ass tilt up for Chris’ hand.
“You really missed daddy touching you, huh?” Chris asks. He drizzles more lube at Sebastian’s hole and pushes it in with his fingers, Sebastian’s ass clenching and pulling around them.
“Yes, sir. Yes, daddy,” Sebastian says, desperate and quick. His breath catches every time he inhales, letting out with a small whine. Chris sheds his clothing and climbs into the bed. Sebastian blinks up at him through wet eyes.
Chris slicks his cock up and presses in unceremoniously, Sebastian letting out a long, needy moan as Chris sinks inside, mouth opening in ecstasy at the immediately deep, satisfying fullness.
Chris settles his hands on either side of Sebastian, pink crawling up the pale skin of his throat.
“What daddy really missed was breeding this tight cunt,” he says, grinding down against Sebastian. “Even though dirty holes like you are a dime a dozen but baby, no one wants it as bad, huh.”
Chris begins to move in earnest, pounding down so every breath hiccups in Sebastian’s chest, and overwhelming pleasure begins to emanate from his hole.
“Yes. Uh - yes, daddy,” he says breathlessly, a desperate litany, “I want it. I want it.”
Chris comes inside Sebastian first, then pulls out with a filthy wet sound and pushes at the back of Sebastian’s thigh, bending him in half, reaching between Sebastian’s legs to strip his cock so he comes hot across his own face and chest.
“Hold it,” Chris says, as Sebastian’s dropping his legs. The muscles in his arms shake, weak, as he holds onto the backs of his thighs, body trembling as he breathes and blinks through the wet on his face.
“You all tired out, baby?” Chris asks, kneeling up on the bed before Sebastian. He has his phone in his hand.
“Y-yes,” Sebastian shakes out. His knees are at his chest.
“Well you made daddy wait so long last time he’s gonna take a picture so he won’t miss you as much if you do it again,” Chris says.
A hot bubble of shame expands inside Sebastian.
“I’m sorry, daddy,” he says softly.
“Up,” Chris says, pushing so Sebastian’s ass tilts off the bed, exposing his wet, used hole. He aims his phone and Sebastian trembles and holds still, humiliated into muteness as he hears the sound of the camera going off, one after another.
Then Chris is curling over him and rubbing the fingers of one hand between Sebastian’s legs, through the wet and come leaking out of his hole.
“What do you say, baby,” he murmurs, kissing Sebastian through the filth on his lips.
“Thank you,” Sebastian says, the words coming so easily. He wants to say them again and again. “Thank you, daddy.”
*