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Red Ribbon

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“Welcome back, Schneider! Who shall I call for you today? We do have a few new hostesses if you’d like to take a look.”

Pacing past the tables of the bar, Schneider peels off his gloves as he approaches the owner of the establishment; a tan-skinned man with an ever-present smile. Schneider holds his silence for a moment, scans the interior. There are men loitering about, sharing beverages and eying up any woman that passes by, whether they work here or not. It’s not any ramshackle, substandard bar where any peasant could squat in. Here, there are more gentleman than low-life. Schneider would never go anywhere else.

“I want to see a line-up, Emanuel,” he says finally, his deep voice smooth like honey, flicking his piercing blue eyes over to meet the owner’s. Emanuel nods, smiles, turns out from behind the bar to enter the backroom. Schneider begins languidly unbuttoning his long-coat. Soon after Emanuel’s departure, a laughing throng of women come bursting out from the backroom. They’re all wearing varying kinds of frilly things and flowing dresses; all different colors of pink, cream, baby blue, and lavender. Makeup paints their smiling faces, their hair done up prettily. They all watch him with different levels of excitement. He has a bit of a reputation here.

Schneider eyes them all as he slides off his coat to drape it over an arm, baring his paisley-patterned waistcoat joined by a neatly done tie and a golden pocket watch which hung in display from a waistcoat pocket. The modest, hard-nosed woman who works with Emanuel at the bar approaches, offers to take his coat for him. Schneider politely accepts it with the slightest perk of his lips, passes it to her for her to hang.

Following the female whores are three men, wearing similar things, though not quite as daring. Every woman and man wore a corset and stockings. Most wore button boots, some wore no shoes at all, their stockinged feet on display. Schneider takes notice of the fact there is only one prostitute lined up wearing red, and it is a man. Schneider always had a liking for red. His open-front dress spills down the back of his legs in layered frills—it cut low around his shoulders and chest, baring his collarbone and the majority of his cleavage. He’s muscular, though not unbearably so. A red ribbon is wound around his throat, tied in the back. His hair is a striking silver, hangs low around his ears in long locks. Schneider stares at him. He’s a new addition.

“Here is your selection, Schneider,” Emanuel says, stepping back behind the bar again. He gestures with a lift of a hand and encourages, “Take your time to decide.”

Face stony, Schneider pans his gaze across the four women and the three men. The women are immediately disregarded; he’s not here for a woman this time. One man is a tall, lanky thing with a meek demeanor. Not his type. Beside him is a stockier, broad type with far too much body hair for his taste. It wasn’t much of a competition. The silver-haired beauty is silent, face neutral, though his vibrant green eyes are fearlessly trained on Schneider’s. He isn’t trying to play it up like the others. His hands are folded together in front of his immodest dress. Schneider spots a red-laced garter around his thigh.

“That one,” Schneider says lowly, tipping his chin up towards the man watching him. Emanuel glances over towards the silver-haired man who looks subtly surprised, his eyes wider. He doesn’t look excited. Schneider wants to change that. He will never forget him after tonight. He’ll make sure of that. Emanuel beckons the quiet whore forward with a curl of two fingers.

As if he were timid, the prostitute folds his hand behind his back as he approaches, his head dipped forward respectfully. He’s not flirting shamelessly and draping himself against Schneider like the women often do. Schneider likes it. Appreciation shows in Schneider’s blue eyes as he looks him up and down.

“Richard, give Herr Schneider here a lovely night. He’s quite a gentleman,” Emanuel says, setting a hand on his bared shoulder. The silver-haired prostitute peeks up at Schneider, offers a slight smile. Schneider searches his pretty face. Richard, huh?

“Come with me,” Richard speaks quietly, offering a hand. He has a lovely voice. Something even and balanced; not too high, not too low. Schneider looks forward to twisting it into moans. He takes Richard’s hand, holds it firmly. Richard’s even expression becomes surprised when Schneider clutches his fingers in his, leans in to kiss his hand on the knuckles, his long curls dipping forward from the motion.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Richard,” Schneider says with a slight smile directed Richard’s way, his azure eyes lightened with amusement and delight. Richard’s gaping expression becomes shy and flattered. He smiles faintly, which is quite a lovely sight. One hand delicately grasping his frilly dress, Richard gives him a polite curtsy with a cross of his ankles and a dip of his head. Schneider’s smile becomes a little wider. He’s adorable.

 

Led by the hand, Schneider is taken up the staircase at the back of the bar/whorehouse, guided to one of the vacant rooms. Richard is silent, timid, as he closes and locks the door behind them. Schneider is already working on his tie when Richard turns to look at him again, his fingers threading together in front of his short dress, a faint smile on his pretty face. Slipping off his tie, Schneider approaches the vanity mirror positioned at one side of the room. He folds the tie, drapes it over the surface. He dips his hand into the pocket of his waistcoat, removes his gold pocket watch to set it atop the tie. Turning to Richard again, he begins unbuttoning his paisley waistcoat.

“You are quite beautiful,” Schneider begins, earning a wide-eyed blink from Richard, “I had become rather bored with the selection of men at this establishment. I was considering directing my attention elsewhere, but Emanuel promised he would acquire someone more to my tastes. It seems he was true to his word. You are, indeed, similar to what I want in a man. How experienced are you?”

He slides off his waistcoat, exposing the entirety of his white dress shirt underneath, as well as his beige suspenders. Turning away with his long curls obscuring his profile from Richard’s gaze, Schneider drapes his waistcoat across the back of the cushioned chair.

“You are not the first man who acquired me for the night,” Richard says, his voice no longer quiet, nor shy, “But you are the most handsome.”

Glancing back towards him, Schneider arches a brow.

“Is that so?” he muses, smiling faintly with amusement. Richard is blushing. He looks delightful—Schneider could just eat him up. And he will.

Richard bites his lip, nods. Schneider turns to him, paces out to join him in the center of the room again. He cups his broad hands around his, threads their fingers together. He gazes straight into Richard’s timid green eyes as he brings his hands up to his face to kiss over his knuckles. His long locks brush across Richard’s wrists.

“And you are a flatterer,” Schneider murmurs, squeezing Richard’s hands. Richard smiles.

“An honest one.”

A thin smirk appears on Schneider’s lips. He gazes down at the “maiden” with lidded eyes. He releases one hand to cup his jaw tenderly. Richard looks up at him unwaveringly, cheeks warming. Schneider brings a thumb up to slowly rub it down over his bottom lip, which drags down along with the stroke, exposing his teeth. Richard’s vibrant green eyes are loyally fixed up on him, bashful and daring at the same time. Schneider peers down at him with that subtle smirk lingering. It seems like an intimate gesture, but Schneider was curious about the state of his teeth.

Before, he’s fucked a whore with decaying teeth—when he was a younger man—and it was not the most pleasant experience. Richard’s teeth are better than most. Nor does he have any sores that imply disease. Schneider supposes that’s to be expected; Emanuel has the healthiest prostitutes in town—though that is not a feat accomplished without effort. There are rubber condoms in the side table, an additional cost, and requirement, for the man hiring the services of the whore for the night. Additionally, Emanuel turns away any man with visible sores on his face. Sometimes it has slipped through, though that infected prostitute is immediately sent to a lower class whorehouse. Schneider prefers it like this. The cleaner, the better.

“I will undress you,” Schneider says softly, stroking his broad thumb down over the swell of Richard’s chin, searching in his yearning emerald eyes, “And then I want you to masturbate on the bed while I undress myself. Understand?”

Richard sucks in a shuddering breath, nods, admiring Schneider’s crystal blue eyes for a moment longer before he turns his back to him, saying quietly, “The corset, first?”

Without a word, Schneider reaches up to begin dexterously untying his corset, pulling firmly at the laces until it loosens evenly. Richard is silent, hands curled into loose fists by his sides, his head bowed slightly. Schneider steps around Richard to face him, earning a peek of timid eyes past silver bangs. Schneider reaches up to curl two fingers under his chin, gently tipping his head up with a faint smile on his slender face. Richard blinks, looks up at him with faint surprise.

“Hold your head high, darling,” Schneider murmurs, “Bashfulness is charming to only a certain degree. You’re worth more than that.”

Richard blushes. He nods a little, smiles faintly. Schneider reaches down to begin undoing the hooks of the busk, eyes downcast. Richard watches his handsome face as he finishes opening up the corset. Richard lets him slip it off. The waist of his red dress falls freely; it covers more of his upper thighs due to no longer being pinned to his torso. Schneider steps past Richard to drape the corset over the vanity surface. Richard moves to remove his bicep-length gloves, managing to get one down to his elbow. A hand suddenly clutching his wrist has him gasping, freezing. Lips press to his ear, speaking lowly.

“I believe I said I will be undressing you, beloved.”

Heart beginning to pound, Richard nods. He removes his hand from his glove. Schneider steps around him again, reaches out to cup both hands around his forearm. He gradually draws the glove down and off his hand, exposing strong fingers and prominent veins, joined by the striking red of his fingernails. Clutching his hand in his own before Richard could lower it, Schneider leans past him to drape the glove over his waistcoat on the back of the chair. Then he looks at Richard with a faint smile and dips his head down to kiss him on the knuckles. Richard gazes at him with a slight wariness, though he’s blushing again.

Again, Schneider draws his other glove down with both gentle hands, before draping them on the chair. Then he steps around him again, to begin unbuttoning his frilly red dress in the back. Richard is stiff, feeling Schneider’s confident fingers moving down his spine. The off-shoulder sleeves droop a little more, now that there is more slack around his shoulder blades, the dress loosened. Schneider’s broad, warm hands stroke down over his pale shoulders, earning a shudder from the smaller man.

“You’re beautiful,” Schneider murmurs from behind him—Richard startles slightly. He didn’t expect him to be so close, but he feels his exhales against his ear now. Schneider gingerly draws down his open dress with a stroke of his hands down along his biceps and forearms; Richard angles his arms so they slip out of the short sleeves. The long, waterfall-esque frills in the back brush across his calves as they lower along with the dress. Soon, Richard is left standing only in the cream-colored slip and the short drawers he wore, joined by his red stockings kept in place by garters.

Hands cup around his sides, over the soft cotton of his slip—kept tied around him at the breast by a red ribbon. They stroke up along his body, earning a slight shiver from him. Richard feels lips rest along the slope of his neck. He watches with downcast eyes as Schneider gently unravels the ribbon at his breast and begins to ease the slip down, exposing his naked chest and midsection. Once that pools at his feet, Schneider’s broad hands begin to work down his drawers, carefully. Richard’s heart is racing by now, his lip between his teeth, face burning. The cool air immediately clings to his naked skin.

Schneider silently asks him to step out of the drawers with a press of a hand to his calf. Richard obeys, quietly; Schneider picks up the slip as well and drapes them over the vanity.

“That is all,” he says lowly, earning a timid glance over a shoulder—Schneider is watching him with piercing blue eyes.

“Now, I’d like for you to get on the bed and do as I’ve asked.”

Richard nods politely and quietly paces towards the made bed, wearing only the ribbon around his throat and the crimson stockings which reach his pale thighs. Attempting to be seductive is unnecessary now—Richard can tell Schneider doesn’t care whether he puts on a show or not. He climbs onto the bed without bothering to be elegant or sexy. Then he turns, rests back on his elbows, his knees pressed together, legs angled to the side to maintain his modesty. He watches Schneider with a tucked chin, his green eyes timid. His silver locks fall across his temples and cheekbones prettily, accentuating the youthful beauty of his face.

Approaching with quiet taps of his Oxfords against the floorboards, Schneider stands before the foot of the bed, his chin raised and eyes trained down on Richard’s vulnerable position, his long curls curtaining his face.

“Spread your legs, show me your body,” he murmurs, a low command spoken so intimately it has Richard’s belly twisting with a heat. Biting his lip, Richard nods and slowly inches his knees open, sliding one stockinged foot across the length of the duvet as he lets his legs naturally spread. Nothing obscene, though; just a subtle peek of his body that Schneider devours through sight alone. Richard knows how to tease. He rests his hands over his thighs, playing it up.

“Now,” Schneider begins, his voice husky with lust, hands raising to run both thumbs under his suspenders, letting them fall from his shoulders, “Touch yourself for me, darling.”

It’s not often Richard engages in something like this. Usually the men that fuck him skip the simpler things of sex. The anticipation. The teasing. The foreplay.

This time, following that command, Richard is bolder in his display. He lets his knee slowly fall open, exposing the entirety of himself to the other man. Schneider stares with unwavering eyes and a clenched jaw as Richard cups a hand under his balls, cradling himself gently in manicured fingers. He strokes a thumb down over his flaccid length, yet to be aroused. He shows how delicate and fragile he is by running his fingertips up along the shaft again, and then down again to gingerly rake his fingernails over the sensitive swell of his balls. He looks up at the other man with heat in his eyes, his cheeks rosy. Schneider, meanwhile, watches intently while he unbuttons his dress shirt, getting it open and untucked from his slacks to reveal the undershirt below.

Being watched like this while teasingly, barely touching himself has a heat stirring in Richard’s belly. Blood rushes down into his cock, seeing that hungry look on Schneider’s face as he runs his hand up over himself, brushing his stiffening shaft up against his belly. He hides it from his gaze, curls his fingers around it loosely, without intent to pleasure himself. He never looks away from his client’s handsome face.

Schneider manages to remove his dress shirt and undershirt entirely, folds them and drapes them over the vanity, momentarily breaking his gaze from Richard to do so. There, he kneels to undo his Oxfords, before neatly setting them aside along with his socks. Then he reclaims his place at the foot of the bed, begins undoing his slacks with a noticeable crack in his patience. By then, Richard is half-hard, his awakening cock resting under his warm hand.

“Stroke yourself for me,” Schneider murmurs, momentarily breaking his focus to reach out and stroke a broad hand up over the soft cotton of his red stocking, across his shin. Richard bites his lip. He bears his weight further back onto an elbow as he begins slowly rubbing the palm of his hand against his shaft. The sensitivity and responsiveness of his body begins to amplify; he lets out a shaky breath, eyelids faltering slightly. Schneider’s hand retracts to get his pants open, finally. Richard’s heavy emerald eyes pan up across his body as he steps out of them, kicks them aside, leaving him bare save for his undergarments.

Finally, Richard curls his fingers around his cock and begins to pull at it slowly, his mouth falling open. The intense gaze Schneider holds on him excites him more than the stimulation to his cock. Without hesitation, Schneider steps out of his underwear, leaving him bare. Richard sweeps his gaze along his exposed body, admiring his paleness, the muscular state of his slender arms, his soft belly yet firm chest. He’s beautiful.

Richard gapes a bit, staring at his naked body. Schneider reaches up to flip his long curls out of his face, and then with a creak of the frame, plants a knee on the foot of the bed before he crawls on, over Richard. Richard looks up at him with red cheeks and wide eyes, flustered—he opens his legs for him to get settled between. Schneider’s broad hand cups around Richard’s jaw, clutches it in his grasp. Speechless and motionless, Richard searches in his icy blue eyes, finds only lust and hunger. With his long locks falling to curtain his face, Schneider angles his head, leans in to crush their lips together. Richard makes a slight noise into it.

Raising his hands, Richard strokes them across Schneider’s chest to gingerly curl them around the back of his neck, fingers raking up through his lengthy curls. The kiss doesn’t last long; Schneider moves his lips against Richard’s with a passion, but nothing desperate and overwhelming. A firm pursing that Richard returns with a heavy blush and an excitement twisting in his belly. And then Schneider breaks it to kiss him gently over the corner of his lips, his cheek, his jaw, his throat—against the soft silk of the red ribbon. Further and further he descends, mouthing at pale skin until he nips his inner thigh between his teeth—right above the hem of his stocking. Richard jerks and sucks in a sharp breath.

Schneider’s long curls rest softly across Richard’s thighs and hips as he lower his head to suck his stiff cock in-between his thin lips, evoking a shudder and a weak moan from the whore. His broad hands are splayed around his hips, tucked partially underneath him and cradling his lower half as he begins to slowly bob his head, which only contributes to Richard’s gasping moans. The hot, wet sensation of Schneider’s mouth moving over him is something Richard seldom feels—there are a few clients who enjoy seeing him in the throes of pleasure, but they are few. Richard often has to resort to only his hand.

Without struggle, Schneider manages to take his length entirely into his mouth, his nose pressing into Richard’s belly, hair curtaining his face.

“Oh!” Richard gasps, his thighs clenching and hands grasping at fistfuls of the duvet, his entire body bursting with a heat. Schneider repeats this motion five more times: retract with tight suction, his piercing blue eyes flicking up to meet Richard’s lidded gaze, duck his head back in to take him deeply into his throat again. Only when Richard is shaking and his cock is flushed a prominent red does Schneider pull off entirely and crawl over the smaller man again. He lays himself upon him, draws his muscular arms around him. Richard turns his face into his neck, noses at his curly locks. He slides his stockinged leg up over Schneider’s, intertwines them.

“Would you like for me to retrieve the oil?” Richard whispers into his jaw, his hands roaming up across his biceps, feeling the swell of slender muscle under his fingers. Schneider hums lowly, strokes his hands over Richard’s broad back, along soft skin that feels wonderfully smooth and supple under his touch. Schneider grasps a gentle fistful of his silver locks, pulls his head back to kiss him with a firm purse of his lips before he searches in his wide green eyes and murmurs, “As well as a condom, darling.”

“Of course,” Richard whispers, smiling faintly with hooded eyes. After gently kissing him once more, Schneider plants his elbow on the bed and angles his body off of the other for Richard to turn and reach for the nightstand. After popping open the tin container holding the condoms, Richard takes one out and passes it to Schneider, before he grabs the jar of oil from the surface of the table. While Schneider rises to kneel and slip on the condom, Richard sweeps three fingers through the oil, sets the jar down, and then reaches down between his muscular thighs to rub them against himself.

He watches through lidded eyes as Schneider fits on the condom, before sliding closer to Richard, reaching out with one hand to cup it gently around his jaw. Richard searches his handsome face with a weaker gaze, his mouth falling open slightly. Schneider smiles thinly at him, almost unnoticeably so, and then leans in to kiss him lightly, tenderly. Richard makes a slight noise into it—kissing Schneider while languidly fingering himself makes for an intense combination. Schneider’s lips are warm and firm against his own.

Their mouths overlap together, a kiss that deepens into something open-mouthed and wet. Schneider is controlled and practiced about it: lets their tongues meet briefly, tastes Richard’s mouth with a sweep of his tongue before he simply goes back to kissing him. Bites at his full bottom lip, rolls it between his teeth before hungrily crushing their mouths together again. Richard is breathing heavily by then, with three fingers buried deeply inside of himself. His eyes flutter open to gaze at Schneider’s face as he consumes him through a breath-taking kiss.

Only when satisfied does Schneider pull away to kiss sweetly over Richard’s flushed face—against his brow, his forehead, and then the corner of his mouth before drawing back to glance down and watch Richard’s wrist move as he fingers himself.

“That’s quite enough,” Schneider murmurs, his voice rough and thick from the combination of the kiss and his arousal. Richard makes a weak, affirmative noise and removes his fingers from within himself. He feels overwhelmingly slick between his ass cheeks and it’s an uncomfortable sensation. He reaches for the oil again. Schneider takes it from him and moves up onto his knees. Richard watches, propped up on his elbows. Taking some in his fingers, Schneider reaches past his whore to set the jar on the nightstand. Then he clutches himself in that wet hand and strokes it over his aching shaft.

Richard watches with a bitten lip. His cock is pretty and rather big, though not ridiculously so. He’s more than what Richard typically deals with. That is, most men that fuck him aren’t impressive in size to begin with, so it wasn’t much of a competition.

“How would you like me?” Richard asks, a bit breathlessly. Schneider brushes his curls out of his face and then says lowly, “On your front.”

Obediently, Richard turns over, getting tangled among the covers on his belly, knees placed apart. Blushing, he grabs one of the feather pillows, leans into it with his arms wound around it for comfort sake. Schneider’s broad hands are on him then: one slides up over the underside of his thigh, hooks into his knee and gently pushes until Richard understands and slides his knee further up on the bed, further exposing himself and making for a more open position. He peeks over his shoulder, watches Schneider shift closer—he partially straddles Richard’s outstretched leg, kneeling over him. One hand rests over Richard’s asscheek, hooks a thumb into it to spread him open. Richard hides his face in his elbow.

He feels Schneider shift closer, and then begins rubbing the slickened head of his cock up over his taint, which has a shudder shooting up Richard’s back. He presses firmly into him. Slow and gentle, he begins easing in. Richard makes a slight noise, continues hiding his face in his arm. It doesn’t hurt—in fact, it feels almost good, and Richard is excited. He hasn’t been this excited during sex in a while.

Schneider then strokes both hands up over his sides as he slowly, carefully continues arching his hips in, until he presses up against Richard’s ass. Richard groans into his elbow, his back curling. Schneider moves closer by placing his hands on the bed on either side of Richard, leans over him with their legs tangling together.

“Does it hurt? How do you feel?” Schneider asks quietly, his voice deep and concerned from above Richard. Pausing, Richard is mildly surprised. Most clients don’t ask. Richard shakes his head and mumbles shyly, “I’m enjoying it. You may move.”

He shudders when he feels warm lips gently press over his shoulder and bicep. Schneider doesn’t move, at least for now. He just kisses over pale skin, noses at silver locks and the red ribbon at the back of his neck. Richard is silent and flustered, clutching the pillow to himself with his face in his elbow. A minute consisting of roaming hands and kissing lips passes, and then Schneider is curling both broad hands around the small of Richard’s back, leans a portion of his weight into him to keep him pinned. It turns Richard on, being pinned like this, especially by someone as confident and beautiful as Schneider.

Then Schneider slowly withdraws, before sinking back in with a gradual rock of his hips. Richard clutches a handful of the pillow, sucking in a breath between clenched teeth. The pressure of Schneider inside of him is different this time. The way Schneider touched him and pleasured him had resulted in Richard’s body to react with greater sensitivity—it has him curling his toes and making a slight noise when Schneider repeats the motion of rolling in and out of him. It feels good. He’s so deep inside of him.

Maybe it was due to the position, but each steady push back in has that certain spot inside of him lighting up with pleasure. It has a heat coiling thickly and heavily in his belly. Richard already begins to grunt and give breathless moans as Schneider rocks his hips against him, gradual and deep, his hands remaining curled around his lower back, keeping him restrained.

Once his body becomes more accepting, Schneider begins to thrust with more enthusiasm. His pelvis meets his ass with enough force that it drives Richard’s hips into the bed. It has his sensitive cock rubbing into the soft sheets. Richard jerks his head up and gasps—the feeling of the sensitive head of his cock grinding into the cotton has him whimpering and trembling. He spreads his thighs further apart, encouraging it. It makes for deeper, harder thrusts due to the change of the angle. Schneider is truly fucking him now, and it feels amazing. Richard moans, his eyes fluttering shut, manicured hands clutching tightly at the feather pillow.

“Good boy,” Schneider purrs, his voice noticeably breathless. Richard can’t resist anymore—he props up on an elbow and twists his torso just enough to look back at Schneider with an eagerness in his green eyes, his bottom lip between his teeth. Schneider is watching him with intenseness in his gaze, his long curls falling to frame his face like a curtain. It accentuates the haunting beauty of his face. Richard reaches out to stroke one hand up over his muscular forearm, up to his bicep.

Schneider removes his hands from the small of his back, places one on the bed for stability while the other clutches Richard’s roaming hand. He leans in with a dip of his head to kiss him firmly over the fingers and the back of his hand. Richard smiles faintly, shyly.

“I want you to get on top of me,” Schneider murmurs, lips moving against his fingers, his icy blue eyes intense and trained on Richard’s pretty, flushed face. He kisses him once more on the knuckles and then adds with a thin smile, “Darling.”

Then he lowers Richard’s hand and gets off of him to get settled against the gathering of feather pillows at the head of the bed. Richard moves up off his belly to crawl over the other man, flustered and equally excited. He feels Schneider’s rough hands stroke up over his body as he gets situated on top of him; he rests back on his calves, straddling his hips now. He raises up onto his knees to reach back and grip Schneider’s shaft. As Richard adjusts himself, Schneider strokes his hands over his clenching thighs, across his crimson stockings, and then reaches in with one to begin stroking at his flushed, dripping cock. Richard’s entire body jerks, a gasp ripping from his throat. He looks up at Schneider with an agape mouth and red cheeks.

“Go on,” Schneider insists firmly, searching Richard’s pleasured face as he continues pulling at his sensitive length with a tight grip and wet fingers. Richard whimpers, but obeys. He’s involuntarily shaking as he angles Schneider’s slick erection and rubs it against himself, before slowly sitting down on it. It slips easily into him. Richard eases all the way down, until he sits upon Schneider’s thighs. Richard hums with pleasure, biting his lip, and leans back with a shift of his hips just so it goes in a little deeper. Silent, Schneider strokes his other broad hand up over his back as he rocks his hips up into him, continuing to touch him unwaveringly. Richard cranes his head back, long silver locks a beautiful mess, and moans.

In the haze of sex, they lose their focus and just begin moving together, a back and forth rocking of their hips that has Richard moaning and Schneider stroking Richard’s dripping cock with greater enthusiasm. Unable to take it anymore, Richard begins to move his body up and down in a desperate attempt to gain more pleasure. He rides Schneider with a shakiness, his hands propped back against the bed for better stability. The way he kneels makes for shorter, less satisfying drops of his hips.

He then moves into something more suitable: he plants his feet on the bed, raising himself up higher. He leans forward, plants his hands on the headboard of the bed, begins to ride the other man with more force. He slams down onto him with rather a jarring connection of their bodies—Schneider grunts and stops touching him to grab his hips. He firmly presses his thumbs into his flesh, holds him tightly as he rides him. Richard moans, head tipping back again, his nails digging into the wood of the headboard.

When Schneider digs the heels of his feet into the bed for leverage and begins to thrust up into him as he comes down, Richard gasps and cries out, “Oh, God, yes!”

A few more jarring, hard thrusts and then Richard is coming with a choked whine, his knees curling in and pressing together over Schneider’s belly. His ejaculation shoots out to land across the red cotton of his stockings and Schneider’s chest. Schneider hums with pleasure and rakes his hands up over Richard’s sweaty back, his lustful blue eyes trained up on his whore’s grimacing face.

“Good,” Schneider murmurs, nearly a purr, continuing to gently rock his hips up into him. Richard collapses back onto his hands, panting with a dazed look on his face. He hasn’t come that hard in a long time. His shaking legs open again, and he continues weakly riding him with ups and downs of his body. Face and chest flushed with wild hair and lidded eyes, Richard looks utterly debauched. He’s beautiful and Schneider appreciates it greatly, consumes it greedily through gaze.

“I want you on your back now,” Schneider says lowly, breathlessly.

Nodding silently, Richard climbs off of him and then moves to lay down, lethargically. He sinks back into the feather pillows, eyes rolling shut and hands resting up by his head, across haphazard silver locks. His pale thighs press together, his stockings glistening in places with his cum. He looks angelic and utterly spent. Schneider drapes himself across him, cupping his sides with both hands. He leans in to kiss him lovingly over his heaving chest and belly, his long curls laying upon his flushed skin.

Richard hums sleepily, opening his eyes to watch Schneider with a weak smile. Schneider kisses him once more on his chest and then rises. He gently slides his hands between his legs, eases them open. Richard lowers his hands to prop them against the bed, adjusts himself and the angle of his hips. Schneider gets between his thighs, curls both hands around them to tug him closer across the sheets, into a more suitable position. Richard bites his lip, looks up at him with more alert eyes.

Pausing, Schneider takes a moment to lean over and reach for the nightstand. With three fingers, he scoops out more oil and then strokes it over himself—it had dried out. He adjusts his hips against Richard’s. He rubs his slickened cock against him before sliding into him again, eyes downcast to watch his shaft enter his body. Richard gasps, squeezes his muscular legs around him, the heels of his feet digging into his ass. He’s so sensitive now.

When Schneider begins to rock against him, broad hands roaming up over his sides, Richard’s mouth falls open. He glances down to watch Schneider’s body roll with the motion of it. Richard reaches out to press a hand to his stomach, feels it clench and move under his touch. Schneider is grunting softly, so quietly Richard barely hears it past the sound of their meeting bodies.

Gradually, Schneider’s thrusting becomes more intense. He hooks his hands under his knees over the soft fabric of his stockings, hikes his legs up with squeezing hands. Richard is moaning and digging his nails into Schneider’s flexing stomach. Now, Schneider himself is openly groaning, his head tipping back, long locks sweeping back over his shoulder blades.

Richard watches his jaw clench and his neck flex, his hand roaming up over Schneider’s clenching stomach. Schneider’s thrusting slows to a gradual back and forth, until he’s regained his composure and he’s gazing down at Richard with a controlled expression again. The only indication of his orgasm is the heaving of his chest and the flush to his face. Richard hadn’t anticipated for him to spend so soon, after changing positions.

He lets Richard’s legs drape around him again, plants his hands on the bed for balance as he leans in to kiss Richard on the cheek sweetly, before he rises from between his legs and the bed. He removes the used condom, tosses it in the garbage bin by the nightstand. Richard sluggishly props up onto an elbow, rakes his fingers through his silver locks. He silently watches the other man. His back is broad and beautiful, narrowing into lovely hips and an even lovelier ass. Richard stares. Schneider turns to him and asks, “How long do I have with you?”

Richard pauses, looks up to meet his blue-eyed gaze. He smiles faintly.

“However long you wish. Won’t you come join me again?”

The faintest smile appears on Schneider’s lips. He nods, paces up to the bed, and lowers himself back onto it and ultimately onto Richard. Richard winds his arms around him, hands running across the muscular planes of his back, his smile wider now. Schneider rolls them onto their sides, legs tangling. He holds Richard like he was his lover and not a prostitute. He kisses his temple like he loves him, and not like he’s using him.

 

After twenty minutes of lengthy cuddling, Schneider had risen and is now fully redressed, tucking his gold watch into the pocket of his waistcoat once again. He looks immaculate, like their sex never happened. He gazes upon Richard coolly—Richard sits nude on the foot of the bed, legs crossed gracefully with his hands in his lap.

“How long is your contract with Emanuel?” Schneider asks, sweeping his eyes up along his pale, muscular body with silent appreciation. Richard holds his gaze, his own expression schooled again save for the faintest look of vulnerability in his green eyes.

“Undetermined,” Richard answers, “He doesn’t own me, but I’ve given him the reins for now.”

“For the earnings?” Schneider presumes, folding his hands behind his back with an upwards tilt of his chin, eyes searching Richard’s youthful, beautiful face.

“For a place to live,” Richard says, quieter now with an avert of his eyes. He stares at his red, frilled dress which remains folded on the chair where Schneider last left it before this all began. Schneider speaks lowly, almost with pity.

“…I see.”

Silence hangs for a moment. Richard is uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, earning a meek glance from emerald eyes, Schneider continues.

“Well, I do hope you plan to stay here, at this establishment, for some time,” he says, stepping closer to the bed with quiet taps of his Oxfords against wood, his pale blue eyes somewhat gentler as they gaze down into Richard’s. He stands over him now—the contrast is noticeable. A handsome, wealthy man dressed in elegant clothing emitting an air of power and superiority, versus the debauched prostitute lacking a shred of decency with uncertainty radiating from him. Richard gazes up at him warily, his long silver locks framing his face messily.

Schneider’s thin lips twitch into an awkward attempt of a smile.

“I enjoyed being with you. You’re beautiful, and quite my type. You truly satisfied me, beyond the physical sense alone. I look forward to hiring you again.”

Richard searches his face, brow furrowing slightly. He’s not sure how to respond to that. He nods, flicks his tongue between his lips. He manages a faint, strained smile, tilting his head slightly.

“Good. That’s what matters.”

Schneider pauses, searching his face. A more human expression replaces the forced smile on his face. His eyes are softer, his eyebrows unfurrowing, with his posture relaxing slightly. Schneider watches the other man as he asks lowly, “Can you stand for me, darling?”

Richard notices how he requested, rather than demanded. That has a more genuine smile warming up Richard’s face. He obliges and rises with an unfolding of his legs. He links his fingers together in front of himself, looks up at Schneider.

He flushes in the face when Schneider raises a hand and gently curls two fingers under his chin, tips his head back slightly. Eyes becoming lidded, Richard searches his client’s handsome face and watches with bated breath as he leans in. Schneider’s soft curls rest against his cheeks when their lips meet.