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Seong stepped out with Thomas still pressed against his side and immediately heard the wet gasps and moans of two people building up to more than a drunken make out in the alley. He grimaced, once more mourning the ash and embers of his night as he tugged Thomas back into motion.
“And don’t worry about my night,” Ray said as they moved for the street. “If there’s someone spiking drinks, I’d rather call it early.”
“You shouldn’t have to worry about that,” Seong told him. “Management has been alerted and the one who was with him-” he gestured to Thomas, “is having a chat with them now.”
“Terrifying,” he grinned. “But sounds about right for the management of Head. There’s a reason we come here with clients.”
“Clients,” Seong repeated, realizing suddenly that he hadn’t actually seen Ray’s stall partner.
Ray’s grin broadened. “I’m a Player,” he said, stepping out of the alley and looking up and down the street. “Ah, excellent!”
Seong watched Ray dash over to a cab that had stopped to let out a massive, hairy man in leather pants.
“What’s a Player,” Thomas slurred, shivering in the cold.
“When you’re older,” Seong told him, grimacing again as he walked to where Ray was now holding the cab door for them. A Player, huh, he thought. Players were the professionals from the Playhouse, a sex club that was one of the few bigger establishments not owned by one of the Three Rings. Seong wasn’t actually sure who owned the Playhouse. All he really knew was the Playhouse was considered safe by the Three Rings, treated its employees better than most, and paid well enough that Players would sometimes double as escorts and teachers to those wanting to explore other interests. Still, he wondered about the man and his confidence to lean in the door of a bathroom stall with his cock out one second then tenderly speaking to a drugged high schooler the next.
“He’s not going to throw up, is he,” the driver said immediately when Thomas fell into the car.
“Oh honey, if he could throw up, half our problems would be solved,” Ray said, still holding the door as Seong slid in after Thomas.
“Thanks again from your help,” Seong told him, then blinked when Ray held out a card towards him.
It was jerked back before Seong could take it, Ray’s face coming very close to his. “It’s part of my job to read people, sweetie,” he said quietly. “This isn’t a work proposition. This is an invitation for a bitch fest and a good time.” He held out the card again. “And I think you could use a bit of both. Shoot me a text. We’ll arrange a time. I can handle last minute plans most weekdays.”
Seong swallowed as he took the card. “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Take care of him and yourself,” Ray said, stepping back from the car and shutting the door.
Seong sat back as he gave his address to the cabby, gently pulling Thomas back against his shoulder to rest.
Thankfully the ride was smooth, even if it started snowing again about halfway to Seong’s apartment. He didn’t live in the same building as the rest of Felinus’s lieutenants; instead, he had bought a modest building about two years ago using his cut of the various jobs they did, and lived in one of the apartments there. As far as he knew, none of his neighbors knew he was their landlord. He’d much rather keep it that way.
Getting Thomas out of the cab was harder than getting him into it. Ray wasn’t wrong. Thomas was a cuddler and on the quiet ride had become even more cuddled into Seong. Trying to get out of the cab was like having a tug of war with a toddler. But he managed it, somehow, and steered Thomas onto the bench next to the door.
“Are you mad at me,” Thomas muttered, his tongue seeming to have trouble moving.
“I am not mad,” Seong said, crouching down to look over Thomas’s boots. Once more he was conflicted when he found a zipper to get them off. These weren’t proper winter boots. They were meant to look good, not to keep his feet properly warm and dry in the snow. But at least he wouldn’t have to unlace his boots.
“You look mad,” Thomas muttered, his fingers barely brushing over the line in Seong’s brow and sending a shiver down Seong’s back.
Sighing, he caught Thomas’s hand and gently pushed it down. “I’m not mad at you,” he explained, setting the hand back on Thomas’s knee. “I am mad at the situation and I’m upset that you made some bad decision that could have gotten you really hurt.” He leaned forward, catching Thomas’s chin when he started to look away. “But that doesn’t mean I’m mad at you. Understand?”
“You have pretty eyes.”
Seong sighed, carefully pushing Thomas back when he started to lean forward, and went back to removing Thomas’s boots.
“Pretty hair, too,” Thomas muttered, his fingers brushing through Seong’s hair. “Soft.”
“Thanks, Thomas,” he said, trying and failing not to feel bemused by Thomas’s praise. Even intoxicated, he was absolutely adorable. “Come on,” he told him, starting to get to his feet. “I’ll put you to-”
Thomas tried to get to his feet on his own, his socks unable to grip the tile of Seong’s threshold.
“Fuck,” Seong swore, grabbing Thomas as he pitched forward. His own balance was still unsteady, and in an effort to protect Thomas’s head, he twisted them so he landed on his back with Thomas on top of him.
They both froze. Thomas’s hips had settled on top of Seong’s, pressing them together while Thomas’s hands and knees rested on either side of Seong’s body. Thomas’s tight pants that had already left so little to the imagination also hid little to the sensation as his hardening bulge pressed into Seong’s.
Seong tried to think about anything else as he struggled to sit up. He needed to diffuse the situation. Now. “Thom-”
