With dontdotricks | Be careful what you wish for
[CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT]
Flynn had been worrying that he had maybe lost his touch as an escort. The money was awesome and he still had a little black book full of regular clients with regular bookings. Getting work was never going to be the issue for him, but faceless fuck after faceless fuck had him viewing each job like a conveyor belt of tits and ass that he serviced over and over and over again. This time of year, his schedule doubled with his clients wanting him for Christmas parties and corporate holiday celebrations. It was surreal to think that it was a year ago almost to the day that Harri hired him, and she met her billionaire business man, who turned out to be undercover FBI or some shit, and now she was practically married to the bloke with a new kid to show for it. Had it really just been one fucking year?
So much had happened that Flynn almost couldn't keep up. It seemed to all start when Remy got shot just a couple of months before Christmas last year. The three of them had some sort of weird, eccentric comfort zone together until then. The threesome worked, so long as there wasn't any talk of commitment. Flynn couldn't exactly be faithful while he was being paid to fuck other people, and Remy just wouldn't commit. He never made a secret of it, either, so it wasn't like they didn't know what they were getting in to. He wouldn't commit, and his job could take him away at the drop of a hat. And it did, and he got himself shot and nearly killed in the process. The months following that were even more strange. Remy's recovery was long, and oddly enough, while he was incapacitated, he actually let himself get closer to them in almost a sort of commitment, just without labelling it. That's when Flynn suspected Maddie started to get comfortable with the situation. She wanted it to just be the three of them and Flynn worried she was getting to used to having the Remy he was whilst injured. It wasn't that he changed, he just subdued and it gave them a glimpse of what could possibly he if he was interested in being exclusive with them. It was a taste, and Maddie liked it. Flynn wasn't sure how he felt about it. If Remy didn't want to commit, so be it. But he did get admittedly comfortable. It was a bit of a shock to the system when Remy regained his full pre-shooting strength and went back to work. Maddie and Flynn found themselves without the Cajun to take care of, and said Cajun's behaviour started to get elusive again. He would keep coming back to them, but there was very little indication what he did when he wasn't home.
That was why, when he suddenly just didn't come home one, and any day in the weeks following it, neither Maddie nor Flynn knew what to think. Had he left them? Had he just gone on a mission for work and not come back? Did he get killed without his team's knowledge? Even his closest, Rogue, had no idea, but she refused to believe Remy would just up and walk out on her daughter, especially after he had spent months helping out whilst Rogue's husband battled cancer. Even to that minute, Flynn knew Rogue was staying at the X-Men HQ and in the midst of a search for Remy. Beyond that, Flynn knew nothing. He stopped pursuing anymore information. Remy walked out on them. He warned them in the early days he might get bored, and no matter how hard Flynn tried to think otherwise, it was just the most likely scenario. He knew Rogue and his baby goddaughter were important to Remy, but he also knew the Cajun could never sit still for long. He was a survivor. If he wanted to disappear, he would know exactly how to do it without being located.
And as the days veered into weeks, Flynn just moved on and tried to urge Maddie to do the same. He knew it was harder for her. She had been the one to originally meet Remy at her strip club, and she had fallen in love with him pretty quickly. It had just been convenient that Flynn fell into the mix and they had a chemistry together, but for him, it mostly just started as a lust for Remy more than a love. The guy was hot, and fucking fantastic in the sack, or out of it, depending on what mood they were in. It maybe did turn into love when Remy was hurt and became reliant on them, but always niggling at the back of Flynn's mind had been the wariness that Remy might not be there for as long as they were content to settle. And that's exactly what had happened. The Cajun disappeared without a trace, leaving Flynn and Maddie to try and pick up the pieces. They didn't know whether to stay in a relationship, or go back to just being best friends with benefits. Flynn picked up his full schedule again, and Maddie kept going with her business. They both went back to their own apartments, leaving Remy's that they had moved into with him empty. They spent most days together, back and forth between each others apartments, but nothing really managed to feel like it did before Remy came into their lives. It had now come to it that they just didn't talk about him, and pretended everything was okay. They didn't talk about whether they should be in a relationship or not, they didn't talk about what was supposed to be. They just went day to day, both busy with their work, and let each day and then each week melt into one another.
But it was night now, and Flynn's client that had a keen taste for orgies had booked his services again. Flynn almost felt tired thinking about it. He had gone to one a few weeks earlier, but apparently eight people were supposed to participate had lunched together earlier in the day and ended up with food poisoning. Instead, Flynn just ended up fucking her in the back of her limo and he ended up having a mostly early night. He still made sure she paid for the whole time he was booked, though. All his clients knew that was how he operated and it with the bank balances they nurtured, they could afford it. But the plan tonight was apparently a whole new ball game. It wasn't just going to be nine corporate king pins wanting to indulge in some sexual fetishes by way of an orgy. This was intense stuff and Flynn could hardly see through the haze of smoke in the large loft decked out like a brothel. All the lights had red globes in them, giving the room an eerie feel, with red and black silk draped around the walls. There were luxurious red velvet couches around the room, with mattresses littered on the floor here and there. Flynn was a smoker, but this was enough to almost give him lung cancer from secondhand smoke. When they first entered the room, he couldn't see the sex, but he could hear it, and he could smell it. There must have been thirty or forty people in the room. This was definitely serious business. His client was already feeling him up, trying to get her hands down his pants, kissing his throat. No kissing on the lips. Another thing all his clients were well made aware of before he agreed to booking them. He might be a professional escort and stripper, but even Flynn suddenly felt slightly out of his depth as he reflexively started to feel her up and hitch up her expensive evening gown whilst still trying to take in the scene.
An orgy wasn't about one-on-one, though, and they soon had company. Three other woman came up to join his client and he was pulled to one of the sofas and they were stripped naked, no time wasted. It was time for Flynn to just stop thinking and start doing. He had to set aside his curiosity or caution and give the woman what she was paying for. And she was paying for him to fuck any number of other people in this room. He was going to really need to pass out in exhaustion for a few days after this. Determination kicked in and he got to the job. A couple of hours soon passed and he was in the middle of a tangle of arms, legs, tits, and tongues, one woman riding him, while he fingered another and a third sucking on his throat like it was Ben & Jerry's latest ice cream flavour. The room was oppressive and he was sweating heavily, but he just kept thinking of the pay packet. She was paying him extensively for his time that night.
"I hear you're an expert in your field, love," a husky voice with a thick British accent suddenly purred into his ear, and it wasn't a female voice. It was enough to catch Flynn's attention, and for a moment, he almost thought he recognised it, but not quite. He turned his head and found his eyes locked with very, very familiar red ones.
Remy.
Flynn nearly jumped through the roof and he choked on a gasp of shock, the smoke catching in his throat and feeling like it was burning his sinuses. He pushed the naked woman off his lap abruptly so he could turn to see better. "Remy," he said hoarsely, staring up at the other man and feeling like his whole body was frozen. No one else had those eyes, that face, those lips. Flynn's eyes rapidly slipped down Remy's naked body and but he couldn't for the life of him suddenly remember any distinct marks the Cajun would have. But he had the shooting scar on his back. He needed to see his back.
The other man merely laughed slightly and then there was that familiar smirk as a joint was put to his lips for a slow drag. He blew the smoke out into Flynn's face. "Remy? Is that a new position I haven't heard about?" There was no Cajun accent, and he merely afforded the woman a glance, an eyebrow slightly quirked in some sort of silent demand and then they were gone, leaving Flynn alone on the sofa. He was still leaning over Flynn's shoulder and slowly, seductively ran his free hand down over Flynn's chest and stomach to reach his cock, which he gripped and gave a tight, purposeful squeeze. "I've been hearing about your immaculate skills all night, love, and bloody hell do I want a piece of you. And you're going to give it to me. Right here, right now..." he purred and traced his tongue down over Flynn's jaw, coming dangerous close to his lips.
Flynn was breathing heavily and feeling very much like someone had smacked him in the head. This was Remy. It had to be Remy. But why was he fucking with him, acting like he didn't know who he was? And what was with the fucking English accent? There wasn't a hint of Cajun, not a hint of Cajun endearments that usually littered Remy's speech. But by-fucking-God, that was exactly Remy's grip and Flynn nearly came just from that one touch. "What are you fucking playing at?" he suddenly hissed, putting his hand on Remy's chest to push him away so he could still see his face. "Why are you doing this? You fuck off for months and expect me to play along with your sick little joke? Why didn't you call or... something? Just fucking something!"
"I think you're mistaking me for someone else, love. But thanks for the sentiments," the other man answered in amusement, still keeping a firm grip on Flynn's cock. He didn't give Flynn any warning before he leaned in and kissed him roughly, almost bruisingly, with enough force to push Flynn's head back against the sofa and his nails dug slightly into flesh at the base of Flynn's hard cock. Despite his discontent, Flynn's erection hadn't waned. In fact, Remy's rough and forceful treatment just had him as hard as a rock and wanting to fuck him like there was no tomorrow.
But he managed to pull out of the kiss again, looking up into Remy's eyes in confusion. "Who are you?" he finally asked, dumbfounded. Maybe he should play along. This had to be Remy, but he had never heard Remy talk like this before, and his act was extremely good. What reason would Remy have to fuck around with him like this, too? None at all. If Remy wanted to fuck Flynn, he would have just done it. Shit, Flynn really needed to see the other man's back. He had to see that scar.
"You can call me Ace," was the clipped answer. He released his grip from Flynn's cock and sauntered around the sofa, shaking his head slowly. "I'm disappointed, love. Are you going to make me just help myself?" he threatened, his red eyes flashing slightly as he leaned over Flynn, pushing his legs apart. He caught Flynn's lips with his own and then bit down hard, drawing blood before he started to kiss him roughly again. This time, he broke the kiss and smirk down at Flynn, tilting his head. "You really don't want it rough, do you? I'm told you've had every woman in this room. I know you're not shy."
Flynn's heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. Yeah, Remy liked it rough, but he was never bordering on violence like this. There was something dangerous in his voice and his eyes that really was scaring Flynn. If this was Remy, something was very, very wrong. Maybe Remy had some other bastard twin brother out there he didn't know about? Flynn's mind was whirring and he couldn't get it to stop on any one thing. All he could absorb were the eyes and the familiarity of Remy's touch. But he seized his moment and his hands went to the guy's back. There it was. His fingers brushed over some scarring down one side of his back. This was Remy. And this was either one very sick joke, or Remy had no idea who he really was. But Flynn knew this whole situation could take a bad turn if he didn't play along either way. And as he sat there, pinned under this... Ace... he realised that his own slightly dangerous streak was reciprocating. His hands moved down to the guy's firm ass, squeezing painfully with his own devious smirk. Whether this was Remy or not, he was enough like the Cajun to matter. Flynn wanted to fuck him, and he would worry about the how, why and what the fuck later.
Word Count | 2,513
Flynn had been worrying that he had maybe lost his touch as an escort. The money was awesome and he still had a little black book full of regular clients with regular bookings. Getting work was never going to be the issue for him, but faceless fuck after faceless fuck had him viewing each job like a conveyor belt of tits and ass that he serviced over and over and over again. This time of year, his schedule doubled with his clients wanting him for Christmas parties and corporate holiday celebrations. It was surreal to think that it was a year ago almost to the day that Harri hired him, and she met her billionaire business man, who turned out to be undercover FBI or some shit, and now she was practically married to the bloke with a new kid to show for it. Had it really just been one fucking year?
So much had happened that Flynn almost couldn't keep up. It seemed to all start when Remy got shot just a couple of months before Christmas last year. The three of them had some sort of weird, eccentric comfort zone together until then. The threesome worked, so long as there wasn't any talk of commitment. Flynn couldn't exactly be faithful while he was being paid to fuck other people, and Remy just wouldn't commit. He never made a secret of it, either, so it wasn't like they didn't know what they were getting in to. He wouldn't commit, and his job could take him away at the drop of a hat. And it did, and he got himself shot and nearly killed in the process. The months following that were even more strange. Remy's recovery was long, and oddly enough, while he was incapacitated, he actually let himself get closer to them in almost a sort of commitment, just without labelling it. That's when Flynn suspected Maddie started to get comfortable with the situation. She wanted it to just be the three of them and Flynn worried she was getting to used to having the Remy he was whilst injured. It wasn't that he changed, he just subdued and it gave them a glimpse of what could possibly he if he was interested in being exclusive with them. It was a taste, and Maddie liked it. Flynn wasn't sure how he felt about it. If Remy didn't want to commit, so be it. But he did get admittedly comfortable. It was a bit of a shock to the system when Remy regained his full pre-shooting strength and went back to work. Maddie and Flynn found themselves without the Cajun to take care of, and said Cajun's behaviour started to get elusive again. He would keep coming back to them, but there was very little indication what he did when he wasn't home.
That was why, when he suddenly just didn't come home one, and any day in the weeks following it, neither Maddie nor Flynn knew what to think. Had he left them? Had he just gone on a mission for work and not come back? Did he get killed without his team's knowledge? Even his closest, Rogue, had no idea, but she refused to believe Remy would just up and walk out on her daughter, especially after he had spent months helping out whilst Rogue's husband battled cancer. Even to that minute, Flynn knew Rogue was staying at the X-Men HQ and in the midst of a search for Remy. Beyond that, Flynn knew nothing. He stopped pursuing anymore information. Remy walked out on them. He warned them in the early days he might get bored, and no matter how hard Flynn tried to think otherwise, it was just the most likely scenario. He knew Rogue and his baby goddaughter were important to Remy, but he also knew the Cajun could never sit still for long. He was a survivor. If he wanted to disappear, he would know exactly how to do it without being located.
And as the days veered into weeks, Flynn just moved on and tried to urge Maddie to do the same. He knew it was harder for her. She had been the one to originally meet Remy at her strip club, and she had fallen in love with him pretty quickly. It had just been convenient that Flynn fell into the mix and they had a chemistry together, but for him, it mostly just started as a lust for Remy more than a love. The guy was hot, and fucking fantastic in the sack, or out of it, depending on what mood they were in. It maybe did turn into love when Remy was hurt and became reliant on them, but always niggling at the back of Flynn's mind had been the wariness that Remy might not be there for as long as they were content to settle. And that's exactly what had happened. The Cajun disappeared without a trace, leaving Flynn and Maddie to try and pick up the pieces. They didn't know whether to stay in a relationship, or go back to just being best friends with benefits. Flynn picked up his full schedule again, and Maddie kept going with her business. They both went back to their own apartments, leaving Remy's that they had moved into with him empty. They spent most days together, back and forth between each others apartments, but nothing really managed to feel like it did before Remy came into their lives. It had now come to it that they just didn't talk about him, and pretended everything was okay. They didn't talk about whether they should be in a relationship or not, they didn't talk about what was supposed to be. They just went day to day, both busy with their work, and let each day and then each week melt into one another.
But it was night now, and Flynn's client that had a keen taste for orgies had booked his services again. Flynn almost felt tired thinking about it. He had gone to one a few weeks earlier, but apparently eight people were supposed to participate had lunched together earlier in the day and ended up with food poisoning. Instead, Flynn just ended up fucking her in the back of her limo and he ended up having a mostly early night. He still made sure she paid for the whole time he was booked, though. All his clients knew that was how he operated and it with the bank balances they nurtured, they could afford it. But the plan tonight was apparently a whole new ball game. It wasn't just going to be nine corporate king pins wanting to indulge in some sexual fetishes by way of an orgy. This was intense stuff and Flynn could hardly see through the haze of smoke in the large loft decked out like a brothel. All the lights had red globes in them, giving the room an eerie feel, with red and black silk draped around the walls. There were luxurious red velvet couches around the room, with mattresses littered on the floor here and there. Flynn was a smoker, but this was enough to almost give him lung cancer from secondhand smoke. When they first entered the room, he couldn't see the sex, but he could hear it, and he could smell it. There must have been thirty or forty people in the room. This was definitely serious business. His client was already feeling him up, trying to get her hands down his pants, kissing his throat. No kissing on the lips. Another thing all his clients were well made aware of before he agreed to booking them. He might be a professional escort and stripper, but even Flynn suddenly felt slightly out of his depth as he reflexively started to feel her up and hitch up her expensive evening gown whilst still trying to take in the scene.
An orgy wasn't about one-on-one, though, and they soon had company. Three other woman came up to join his client and he was pulled to one of the sofas and they were stripped naked, no time wasted. It was time for Flynn to just stop thinking and start doing. He had to set aside his curiosity or caution and give the woman what she was paying for. And she was paying for him to fuck any number of other people in this room. He was going to really need to pass out in exhaustion for a few days after this. Determination kicked in and he got to the job. A couple of hours soon passed and he was in the middle of a tangle of arms, legs, tits, and tongues, one woman riding him, while he fingered another and a third sucking on his throat like it was Ben & Jerry's latest ice cream flavour. The room was oppressive and he was sweating heavily, but he just kept thinking of the pay packet. She was paying him extensively for his time that night.
"I hear you're an expert in your field, love," a husky voice with a thick British accent suddenly purred into his ear, and it wasn't a female voice. It was enough to catch Flynn's attention, and for a moment, he almost thought he recognised it, but not quite. He turned his head and found his eyes locked with very, very familiar red ones.
Remy.
Flynn nearly jumped through the roof and he choked on a gasp of shock, the smoke catching in his throat and feeling like it was burning his sinuses. He pushed the naked woman off his lap abruptly so he could turn to see better. "Remy," he said hoarsely, staring up at the other man and feeling like his whole body was frozen. No one else had those eyes, that face, those lips. Flynn's eyes rapidly slipped down Remy's naked body and but he couldn't for the life of him suddenly remember any distinct marks the Cajun would have. But he had the shooting scar on his back. He needed to see his back.
The other man merely laughed slightly and then there was that familiar smirk as a joint was put to his lips for a slow drag. He blew the smoke out into Flynn's face. "Remy? Is that a new position I haven't heard about?" There was no Cajun accent, and he merely afforded the woman a glance, an eyebrow slightly quirked in some sort of silent demand and then they were gone, leaving Flynn alone on the sofa. He was still leaning over Flynn's shoulder and slowly, seductively ran his free hand down over Flynn's chest and stomach to reach his cock, which he gripped and gave a tight, purposeful squeeze. "I've been hearing about your immaculate skills all night, love, and bloody hell do I want a piece of you. And you're going to give it to me. Right here, right now..." he purred and traced his tongue down over Flynn's jaw, coming dangerous close to his lips.
Flynn was breathing heavily and feeling very much like someone had smacked him in the head. This was Remy. It had to be Remy. But why was he fucking with him, acting like he didn't know who he was? And what was with the fucking English accent? There wasn't a hint of Cajun, not a hint of Cajun endearments that usually littered Remy's speech. But by-fucking-God, that was exactly Remy's grip and Flynn nearly came just from that one touch. "What are you fucking playing at?" he suddenly hissed, putting his hand on Remy's chest to push him away so he could still see his face. "Why are you doing this? You fuck off for months and expect me to play along with your sick little joke? Why didn't you call or... something? Just fucking something!"
"I think you're mistaking me for someone else, love. But thanks for the sentiments," the other man answered in amusement, still keeping a firm grip on Flynn's cock. He didn't give Flynn any warning before he leaned in and kissed him roughly, almost bruisingly, with enough force to push Flynn's head back against the sofa and his nails dug slightly into flesh at the base of Flynn's hard cock. Despite his discontent, Flynn's erection hadn't waned. In fact, Remy's rough and forceful treatment just had him as hard as a rock and wanting to fuck him like there was no tomorrow.
But he managed to pull out of the kiss again, looking up into Remy's eyes in confusion. "Who are you?" he finally asked, dumbfounded. Maybe he should play along. This had to be Remy, but he had never heard Remy talk like this before, and his act was extremely good. What reason would Remy have to fuck around with him like this, too? None at all. If Remy wanted to fuck Flynn, he would have just done it. Shit, Flynn really needed to see the other man's back. He had to see that scar.
"You can call me Ace," was the clipped answer. He released his grip from Flynn's cock and sauntered around the sofa, shaking his head slowly. "I'm disappointed, love. Are you going to make me just help myself?" he threatened, his red eyes flashing slightly as he leaned over Flynn, pushing his legs apart. He caught Flynn's lips with his own and then bit down hard, drawing blood before he started to kiss him roughly again. This time, he broke the kiss and smirk down at Flynn, tilting his head. "You really don't want it rough, do you? I'm told you've had every woman in this room. I know you're not shy."
Flynn's heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. Yeah, Remy liked it rough, but he was never bordering on violence like this. There was something dangerous in his voice and his eyes that really was scaring Flynn. If this was Remy, something was very, very wrong. Maybe Remy had some other bastard twin brother out there he didn't know about? Flynn's mind was whirring and he couldn't get it to stop on any one thing. All he could absorb were the eyes and the familiarity of Remy's touch. But he seized his moment and his hands went to the guy's back. There it was. His fingers brushed over some scarring down one side of his back. This was Remy. And this was either one very sick joke, or Remy had no idea who he really was. But Flynn knew this whole situation could take a bad turn if he didn't play along either way. And as he sat there, pinned under this... Ace... he realised that his own slightly dangerous streak was reciprocating. His hands moved down to the guy's firm ass, squeezing painfully with his own devious smirk. Whether this was Remy or not, he was enough like the Cajun to matter. Flynn wanted to fuck him, and he would worry about the how, why and what the fuck later.
Word Count | 2,513