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Silver Spoon

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Taehyung was wound up tighter than a spring.

He had been for months, with all the work he’d put into the charity gala his company had hosted that evening.

His company.

He’d only made the promotion to president six months ago, following his friend Seokjin’s departure to go “find himself” in the Andes, or some such nonsense, and those six months had been full of stress and the constant, overwhelming need to prove himself. He was young, just twenty-six, but smart. Driven. He wanted this.

And, it had been a success. They’d raised ten million dollars for the charity that evening alone. Taehyung could breathe. He could be proud of himself.

Instead, he sat slumped in a chair in his office, only a small desk lamp switched on to illuminate the room. Taehyung held a glass of whiskey in one hand while he loosened his tie, groaning audibly. He still couldn’t relax.

He’d thrown himself into this, body, mind and soul, because he needed to. He’d needed the distraction of his first big project after his ex left him.

But now, that project was over, and Taehyung was thinking way, way too hard.

“Hey, boss. Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

Taehyung looked up as the familiar drawl of his vice president’s voice echoed into the room. “Yoongi. Shouldn’t you?”

Yoongi shrugged, walking into the office casually, uninvited. Taehyung frowned at one corner of his mouth, but didn’t say anything.

“You doing okay, boss?” Yoongi asked, but he wasn’t really invested in the question or whatever answer he was going to get, and Taehyung knew it. He decided to get it all out while he could, while nobody was actually listening.

“No, not really. I’m lonely and miserable and I haven’t been laid in months and I miss him and everything is basically the worst.” Taehyung rushed the words out in one breath of air, swallowing the rest of his whiskey in one sip when he’d finished.

Across the desk, Yoongi had sat down, and was staring at him. “Well. Uh. I can fix one of those problems, at least.” he muttered, digging into his wallet for a business card.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Yoongi, I told you before, I’m not hiring a hooker. A hooker, for fuck’s sake! I can get laid.”

Yoongi chuckled, a sound that was slightly darker than Taehyung would have preferred. “That ain’t the point. Point is to get laid without having to feel anything. Point is to get what you want, down to the last word. You call ‘em. Tell ‘em what you need. They’ll get it for you.” he said, pushing the card across the desk.

Taehyung stared at it, one palm pressed into his forehead. “That’ll be all, Yoongi.” he murmured, not sure anymore whether he was horrified or just really, really tired.

He looked up, just a bit, and Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me to leave?” he asked, his voice incredulous. They’d never been friends, and they weren’t really now. They barely tolerated each other, and Taehyung knew Yoongi was mostly pretending because he wanted Taehyung’s job. So, he pulled rank.

“Yes, Yoongi. I’m telling you. To leave. Now.” Taehyung repeated, letting the authoritative side of himself slip into his voice as he met Yoongi’s eyes with a steely gaze.

Yoongi cleared his throat uncomfortably, then got up. “Yeah. Whatever. Goodnight, Mr. President.”

After he was gone, Taehyung sighed, picking up the card and reading it with what was definitely not curiosity. Definitely. Not.

There wasn’t a lot to it. Just a name, and a number. And the words under them: “Call for pricing.”

Taehyung shoved it into the pocket of his shirt and went home for the night.

*

It wasn’t until a week later, when Taehyung was going through his laundry, emptying his pockets before putting it on to wash, that he found the card again.

He sat down on the floor with his back to the washing machine as it spun. Considering.

If anyone found out, it would mean the end of his job. Bad publicity for the company. Disgrace.

He knew other executives he worked with did it all the time. But, they were also actually unfeeling assholes, and they didn’t really care what anyone thought. If anyone threatened to talk, they took care of it.

Taehyung wasn’t like that. He was gentle and kind to most everyone, preferring to lead by example rather than with an iron fist.

He was also really, really horny.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing the number. Stared at it a moment, and pressed send.

The phone rang one and a half times before it was answered by one of the sunniest individuals Taehyung had ever had the pleasure of speaking to.

“Hoseok here! What can I get for you?”

“Uh…” Taehyung scrambled for words. “Uh, I got this number from...a...someone...and…”

On the other end of the line, Hoseok laughed. “Everyone’s got their someone. What are you interested in?”

Taehyung swallowed nervously. “Wait, before all that, how much are we talking here? As far as...payment?”

He couldn’t care less about the money. He had plenty to spare. He was just buying himself some time instead.

“Well, that all depends. What are you looking for?”

Hoseok had asked the question three times, three different ways, and Taehyung figured he should probably answer.

“This is for...this is the number to order a...a hooker…”

“Escort.”

Escort. Right. Uh…”

“First time, sir?”

Taehyung laughed then, but it was a weird, strangled sound. “That obvious?”

“Kinda.”

Taehyung was silent for too long. Hoseok started to talk again.

“Look, no judgment. Not in this line of work. The more you can tell me about what you like, the better a match I can get for you. Now, are we looking for a male or a female?”

Taehyung let his head drop back, banging softly against the metal of the washing machine. “Male.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-six.”

“Jeez, you’re young. You sure you can afford this?” Hoseok sounded genuinely surprised, and Taehyung blushed, alone, sitting on the floor of his laundry room. He liked his job. He liked the money. He did not like throwing it in anyone’s face.

“I can afford it. I want…” Taehyung thought about the things he liked, not counting his ex, whom he still loved, probably.

“I want someone handsome. Tall. Willing to be. Uh. Submissive?” That particular word came out in a squeak. Hoseok was giggling again.

“You sure about that, chief?”

Yes, I’m fucking sure.” Taehyung snapped, rolling into his President of the Company voice easily. Too easily.

Hoseok gave a low whistle. “Sheesh, fine, fine. Submissive it is. How long would you like to spend with the escort? One night, six hours, starts at six thousand dollars.”

Taehyung remembered a time when that figure would have made him guffaw in disbelief. It wasn’t that long ago.

“That’s fine. One night. Six thousand. What if it goes well and I want another night?”

“That’s between you and the escort at that point. I’m not a pimp. I just coordinate. It’s their money and their time.” Hoseok explained quickly, parroting the words he’d probably said a hundred times that day.

“That’s decent of you.” Taehyung said, before he could stop himself. He cringed at his own words.

Hoseok snorted. “Well. Y’know. There’s decent people in every indecent profession, sir. Can I get your name and number? And no, it doesn’t have to be a real name.”

Taehyung told him his name was Mr. Monopoly, gave him the number of his fourth unlisted cell line, and hung up.

He stared at the wall across from the washing machine.

What did I just do??

*

Throughout the next week, Taehyung received a small flurry of texts and phone calls from Hoseok, asking him still more questions about his tastes and predilections and getting everything set up. They’d agreed on Saturday evening, and Taehyung had booked a room at a hotel downtown.

Under the name Mr. Monopoly.

He was starting to feel stupid, stupid about the whole thing, stupid about his life and his need to get off, and the break-up, and all of it. Why couldn’t he just be a monk? No sexual needs, no desires. That would have been much easier. But Jungkook had sort of ruined him, in the best way possible.

Before they’d dated, Taehyung had no idea what he liked or what he wanted. He didn’t know that control turned him on, that domination was something he enjoyed. Jungkook was the undisputed leader of their relationship, but in the bedroom, he turned into a kitten, a plaything for Taehyung to use, and fuck, he got spoiled on it.

Jungkook had been the leader of their break-up, too.

Taehyung figured this was exactly what he needed, even though he felt a little dirty about it. Maybe, for once in his life, he just needed to fuck someone, not feel anything, and leave. Like Jungkook had left him.

Empirically, he was really bad at that. He’d had two serious relationships in his life, and they’d both lasted years, and that was the extent of his sexual experience. It didn’t bother him, usually, but the work and the stress and everything had overwhelmed him of late, and he just needed to cum. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched himself. He’d just been too busy.

It was the night before his appointment. Taehyung was sitting at home, eating his dinner alone at his big dining room table, when his phone buzzed with a text notification from the number he’d called Hoseok at. He’d saved it as “H”, which could have either stood for “Hoseok”, or “Hooker”.

Escort. Escort.

 

Hey, how tall are you?

 

Taehyung frowned, pressing a few buttons on his screen.

 

179 cm. Why?

 

The reply was almost immediate.

 

...Shit.

 

Hoseok didn’t respond to the three increasingly panicked texts Taehyung sent him after that.

Taehyung didn’t finish his dinner. He sat there staring at it for a while, then finally took the bowl back into the kitchen, left it in the sink, and went to bed with more butterflies in his stomach than he’d had in a long time.

*

On Saturday morning, Taehyung checked into the hotel room, ten hours ahead of schedule. He wasn’t exactly known for his promptness, but this might have qualified as overcompensating.

He set up his laptop on the small table, turned on some anime, and unpacked his suitcase. He’d brought five suits, two casual outfits, six pairs of shoes, and his entire collection of sex toys with him.

Okay, he was definitely overcompensating.

As the laptop blared in the background, Taehyung sat on the nearest chair in his bathrobe and slippers, staring at everything he’d spread out on the bed. He had no idea what the situation called for. It wasn’t a fancy dinner. He didn’t have to dress up. But, he was paying a lot of money for the evening, and he had brought all these suits, and he figured he’d better at least attempt to look good.

Taehyung thought about it so long that he started to doze off, right there in the chair. He’d slept like hell the night before, tossing and turning and rolling over onto his hard-on and generally being unbelievably frustrated. He’d slept so poorly that he had wondered if he’d even be able to rise to the occasion, so to speak, and do his part of this job. A quick nap couldn’t hurt, really. He gave himself over to it with a sigh, closing his eyes and resting his head on his arm.

When he jolted awake, after who knows how many minutes or hours had passed, someone was knocking on the door of his room insistently. Taehyung blinked rapidly, trying to regain his senses. No one knew he was here. No one had this information. He’d made sure of it. That meant...it had to be…

Taehyung’s eyes widened. He grabbed his phone from the table he’d just picked his head up off of. There had been five missed calls and several texts, from Hoseok and another number he didn’t recognize. And it was fifteen minutes before his evening was scheduled to start.

Taehyung flew off the chair, a chorus of shits echoing through his head, and ran to the door, yanking it open hurriedly.

He didn’t know what he’d expected. He had no previous experience with this. Whatever he’d thought his hooker (ESCORT) would look like, whatever he’d imagined over the last week, it hadn’t been anywhere near this good.

He was definitely tall, his escort. A bit taller than Taehyung, who was used to being the lankiest beanpole in any room. He was dressed in an incredibly well-tailored suit, black on black on black from his shoulders to his shoes. Taehyung’s gaze reached his companion’s toes and then shot back up to his face.

“I want someone handsome. Tall. Willing to be...uh…”

Taehyung swallowed. This guy, from his shy, smirking lip bite to his smooth skin to his dyed blond hair, brushing over his forehead just so, certainly fit the bill so far.

Taehyung watched as the smirk turned from flirtatious to amused. “Hi. Um, I’m Namjoon. You’re expecting me? I’m a little early, I know. I tried to call.”

That deep voice is going to be pleading my name, later.

Shocked by his own thoughts, Taehyung shook his head from side to side, hard, stumbling over his words.

“Uh...uh, I’m not...I guess I’m not ready, um...maybe you could just...could you just come back in like five to seven minutes please because I need to not be wearing my fuzzy slippers when I meet you okay bye--” Taehyung slammed the door shut with more vigor than he meant to, ignoring Namjoon’s raised eyebrow and mouth opening to respond.

He leaned against the door, breathing hard. Humiliated. The embarrassment was almost too much for him to handle.

“Listen, I’ll be in the bar. Come find me, okay? Take your time.” Taehyung heard the sharp sound of Namjoon’s steps retreating down the hall.

When he’d collected himself as much as he was going to, Taehyung showered and shaved quickly, changing into one of the suits he’d brought. He didn’t even care which one at this point, he just needed to put something on that made him feel in charge. That was the whole idea, anyhow. The idea was to have this fantasy, just for one night. And Namjoon...well, Namjoon certainly looked like a dream.

At exactly 6 pm, when they were supposed to have met in his room, Taehyung took the elevator down to the lobby. He knew he looked good, because everyone was looking at him and stepping back to let him through, and he knew he’d successfully affected that aura of control he so desperately needed when Namjoon’s jaw dropped as Taehyung arrived at the table he’d been sitting at.

“Holy shit, wow. That’s different.” Namjoon said, getting up from his chair until Taehyung had sat across from him silently before he lowered himself back onto it slowly. This was a hotel and bar he frequented, and it only took a small glance at the bartender on duty for Taehyung to get a nod and his favorite drink less than a minute later. He still hadn’t said anything to Namjoon, and Namjoon hadn’t tried again. He was just watching Taehyung quietly, the expression on his face unidentifiable.

When Taehyung had a few sips of liquor in him, enough to make him feel a little loose, he finally raised his eyes to meet Namjoon’s.

“I apologize about earlier. I wasn’t expecting you yet. I’m Kim Taehyung.” he said, not offering his hand.

“Kim Namjoon. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Mmm.” Taehyung murmured. He traced the rim of his drink with one finger, keeping his eyes on Namjoon until he began to shift uncomfortably in his chair. Taehyung half-successfully fought a smirk.

A waiter arrived, and Taehyung gestured for Namjoon to order a drink for himself. The way Namjoon’s brow furrowed in confused concentration was adorable. Taehyung kind of couldn’t wait to see how hard Namjoon could concentrate on his knees. Finally, he ordered a cheap beer, and the waiter left. Taehyung didn’t comment on his choice, although he found it sort of endearing.

“So. Namjoon. Tell me about yourself.” Taehyung said softly as Namjoon’s beer was placed in front of him. He was skilled at maintaining casual, yet completely controlling eye contact, and he was putting that skill to good use as Namjoon continued to squirm under his gaze, drinking his beer way too fast.

“Uh. Okay. Well. I’m actually not even supposed to be here, you were supposed to get Jimin, but then Jimin got the flu and also he’s really short, and you said you wanted tall, so even though this is only my second job and I’m not a very good sub, here I am, and my name is Namjoon and I have a really big dick and you’re way hotter than my first client was.” Namjoon said all those words in one breath as Taehyung listened, careful not to betray too much amusement or affection on his face. Careful not to care.

Namjoon stopped talking as suddenly as he’d started, and now he was the one who looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I hardly ever drink and I’m really nervous and you’re just so young and...wow. I’m shutting up now.”

Taehyung chuckled, letting the sound come from low in his throat, letting it go a little husky. “That’s all right.” he said after a while. “You don’t have to shut up just yet.”

Namjoon’s eyes went wide for a split second before his face settled back into the passive air he was very obviously trying to affect. “Yeah. That’s...okay. Cool. Thanks.”

The waiter returned then to take their dinner order. Taehyung guessed they were eating dinner now, since they’d ended up here. He didn’t have to repeat his usual order for the waiter to write it down properly before turning his attention to Namjoon, who ordered the most expensive thing on the menu.

Literally. He said, “I’ll take the most expensive thing on the menu”, and Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him, and the waiter raised an eyebrow at Taehyung, but then Namjoon blushed and looked away and Taehyung felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he nodded in agreement, allowing it.

When they were alone again, Namjoon sighed. “Sorry. I panicked, and I figured since there’s no question I’m gonna put out, a surf ‘n turf is like...my tip. Right?” He looked lost as he trailed off.

Taehyung shrugged. “Sure.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him on the table as Namjoon leaned in his direction automatically. “You’ll earn it.” Taehyung assured him, now fully in possession of the calm, cool authoritativeness that bent everyone around him to his will.

Namjoon swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

Taehyung’s whole body tingled with anticipation.