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Yue Qingyuan catches him at the end of his shift changing in the locker rooms as the last of the bottle boys and girls filter out for the night.
It was a good night.
A dozen high rollers - trust fund kids with bottomless pockets and mommy/daddy issues galore ordering 80k worth of bottle service to start. Liu Qingge was pulled off the main floor DJ booth by Shen Jiu himself and told to ‘clean yourself up for fuck sake! Are you even wearing foundation?!’ as the call for the fit and finest came down from management.
Liu Qingge’d cleared 20k in tips alone with minimal effort, passed Shen Jiu the house's obligatory 10% and pocketed the rest before manhandling the last of the drunk and disorderlies over to their handlers and ducking to the back for a shower. Whether Yue Qingyuan ever sees it isn’t his problem, he’s paid up as far as he's concerned. If he wants to put his faith in a snake far be it for Liu Qingge to save him.
The man looks better than usual, practically glowing under the yellowish locker room lights.The high color of his cheeks and twinkle in his eyes is an indicator of a ‘good night’. Sweet tobacco clings to his suit under the warm oud of his cologne. Not his brand. Qingyuan stopped smoking two years ago. It smelled like that sweet, expensive shit Shen Jiu stuffs in his long stemmed tobacco pipe when he wants to play at untouchable mafia wife. They must have spent the evening together.
Liu Qingge peels off the tiny shorts and beer sticky crop top that barely cover his nipples that serve as the club's uniform, ignoring the man before turning to climb in the open style showers. He knows Yue Qingyuan is too much of a ‘gentleman’ to ogle him but doesn’t miss the way the man gives him a single appreciative up and down. He’s a man afterall, and Liu Qingge is the club headliner bottle boy for a reason.
For a side gig it's not terrible. Yue Qingyuan tries not to bother him too much with requests these days. After three years in heavy rotation between the club and escorting he’s just about retired. Having earned enough to cover two lifetimes of debt and savings. Liu Qingge only covers at the club when he feels like it these days, showing up when asked personally by Yue Qingyuan but otherwise keeping his past life at arms length.
But Mingyan is finishing her MA soon and her post grad fund could use a little padding. His parents' house in the country would need a new roof even though they insist on telling him they were okay, please don’t make himself sick with worry over them…
“Something wrong with the money?” Qingge asks.
The man blinked, the kind, soft curves his face stiffening in a mild confusion before easing back into a bemused smile.
“No, uh. Xiao Jiu took care of it. He said it was perfect.”
Liu Qingge cut his eyes at him and snorted. “Did you have a call out? Need me to stay another shift?”
Qingge’s exhausted but he’d stay if the man asked. Yue Qingyuan knows that. It’s why tries so hard not to burden Liu Qingge too much with the day to day operations of the club. For him to ask the man for help meant he was in genuine dire straits. Sighing, he walks over to the linen closet and pulls out a towel, shakes it out, making sure not to let it touch the ground and hands it to Liu Qingge.
“Sort of. You have a request. One of Ning Yingying's old clients flying in this evening and booked a night.”
“Is she not available?”
“She is.” Yue Qingyuan leans against a vanity as Liu Qingge towels himself dry, tossing the damp cloth into near full hamper and sets about lotioning himself. Perfunctory in his movements, uncaring of whose body cream he’d grabbed off the cluttered vanity. The cloying scent of honeysuckle assaults his nose making him wish he’d paid closer attention to which vanity he’d snagged it from.
“This client hasn’t requested her since last year, though. I think they may have had a falling out.”
Liu Qingge hums, and hands his friend the jar of body butter before turning his back to him, and gathering his long hair up in his fists so the man can lotion his back. Qingyuan rubs the cream into his skin in wide arcs, calloused fingers feeling for stress knots and working each one loose.
“So he requested me?”
“Sort of.” The taller man found a particularly hard knot and applied pressure, kneading hard enough to make Liu Qingge’s knees buckle.
“Fuck.”
“Hmm.” he switched to the tense man's traps and worked his thumbs into the stiff muscles. “He asked for our ‘best’.’ He rushes to add ‘if you don’t want to, I can-“
Liu Qingge sighs, sliding out from under Qingyuan’s unresisting hands and shrugging on a baggy t-shirt.
“It’s fine. Who is it?”
“Luo Binghe.”
Liu Qingge isn’t…nervous, per say.
It would be one thing if Luo Binghe was one of those sad old bastards they tend to get. Ones with too much money and a god complex. They’re easy. It’s always a quick, dry fuck. Over enthusiastic with too little lube, and virtually no prep, writhing about like they’re trying to start a fire. The kind of rushed, face against the wall, pants around the knees fucks that left you chaffed and pissed off.
Never satisfying, sometimes humiliating but tolerable with a fair bit of disassociation. They liked being pandered to by pretty young things pretending to find them interesting for a few hours. Getting off on exaggerated porn faces; cross eyed, tongue out panting, shrieking moans and ‘blissed out’ groaning as they push rope for a few feeble thrusts, fail to cum then blame the escort for it. Then demand their escorts finish themselves off in front of them; their own live show with a front seat to the splash zone.
Oh, the things money could buy.
He’d been told by other escorts how Luo Binghe wasn’t much better. He was hung like a horse, arrogant as hell and impatient. A hard fast fuck that liked to throw a bone every now and then, letting them cum before sending them off.
“Huge” one of the girls warned, “Like. Fucking massive. Couldn’t even fit it all the way in my mouth. I would up just giving him a tit job and letting him come on my face.”
Not the most reassuring recounting, but not the worst he'd heard. He might be an asshole but thankfully he was a hell of a tipper. Fifty percent and higher depending how well they performed was the 'standard'. And shit, considering how much he’d been willing to drop for a last minute accommodation, Liu Qingge wasn't about to turn him away for being a bit of a dick. So long as whatever Luo Binghe intended to slide Liu Qingge under the table via a little black card, stayed off the books. Yue Qingyuan was willing to turn a blind eye to just about anything with Liu Qingge’s name on it, so a little extra under the table cash never needed mentioning. Least of all the Shen Jiu.
When the night came for him to trek over to the hotel the worst of Liu Qingge’s weariness had long passed. Luo Binghe’d arranged an air bnb condo originally, but there was no way in hell Liu Qingge would agree to that. A luxury suite at a five star uptown hotel, covered in CCTV and floor to security was the compromise. The client hadn’t been ‘thrilled’ but agreed readily enough, unwilling to lose the contract all together.
Liu Qingge hadn’t expected anything beyond a rough tumble; an excessively well compensated hour of hard fucking and maybe a weak orgasm thrown in.
He got the NDA the clients lawyers dropped off signed within the hour. Filing the copy of the one their lawyers sent Luo Binghe, bearing his signature and stamp in his personal records. Alongside a thin packet of instructions tapped to some legal documentation he’s to keep in his own files and a three thousand dollar retainer in his account before even stepping foot on the train heading to the hotel.
Luo Binghe specifically requested Liu Qingge be prepped and ready before his arrival. Fine by Liu Qingge; he preferred it that way. He despised performing the acts of purging, prepping and stretching his hole in front of the client as if it were part of the show. As if the act alone wasn’t enough to make his skin crawl, having them leer over him, touching themselves as he worked himself open made him sick to his stomach.
But Luo Binghe was different. He knew the man, at least, superficially. Got an idea of character for the most part. He didn’t seem the sort - he hoped he wasn’t the sort - to be a bastard.
Even so...Liu Qingge had long trained himself to abandon the silly notion of expectation. It’s saved him from a lot of disappointment over the years. In life, in people, even in himself. Yet, he can’t quite squash the kernel of anticipation rising in his belly as he buzzes into the Imperial Suite. The hope that maybe this one, this time, will be decent. One of Yue Qingyuan's men catches his eye and nods at him from down the hall before melting into the surroundings. Liu Qingge flips his lone worker device sewn into the lining of his coat on and waits, hands clenched in the pockets of his linen pants, the fabric slightly rough against freshly exfoliated skin. He waits a bit, eyes roaming over the doors ornately carved trimming, hearing a faint shuffling behind the door and sighs. He’s about to buzz again when the door swings open to a darkly lit suite, all deep mahogany and gold veined marble, the smell of expensive soap wafting out into the hall as a familiar towering figure grins down at him.
Luo Binghe is…still perfect.
Still as beautiful as a Caravaggio, haloed in dark, riotous curls, the angles of his face, his smile, those big doe brown eyes rimmed in thick lashes, so deceptively wide and sweet. A masterpiece in motion.
“Qingge! Good to see you mate!” he says warmly, his tone couched in sweet, unearned familiarity, deceptive enough to make Liu Qingge believe, for one brief second, that the man before him would be kind. Opposite of what he’d been told of him. Gentle even. Liu Qingge was a wishful fool.
Because that isn’t what happens at all.
Lou Binghe was mean. And relentless.
Liu Qingge hadn’t cum so hard from being fucked alone so many times in his life. The man was an animal. He hadn't even pretended to be decent, grabbing Liu Qingge the moment he'd stepped through the door with both hands, smile wide and ravenous. Sliding wide palms under the heavy weight of Liu Qingge's overcoat to cup the generous curves of his ass, lifting him as if he weighed nothing for a devouring kiss.
Has Liu Qingge stripped down to the panties in seconds, steering toward the still running shower where he presses him, face first to the wall glass in the suites opulent waterfall shower. Smearing waxy red lipstick over the fogged over glass as Luo Binghe hooks thick fingers into the gusset of his panties and fucks into him in two long strokes. Liu Qingge wobbled, unsure - thankful for the copious lube he’d fingered into himself in hotel lobby's bathroom before taking the elevator ride up, and mortified by the way his body opens up so greedily to accept him.
Luo Binghe tosses him around that room like a rag doll. Twist him up, and folds him into positions surprising even to him. Pins him on his back to fingers, lick, suck every inch of him, and flip him ass up to do the same before flipping him back around to throw Liu Qingge's legs over his wide shoulders, dragging him across the ruined sheets by the fleshy handfuls of his hips to bounce him on his lap like a flesh light.
Liu Qingge gasps and thrashes, forgetting all his training, genuinely overwrought with pleasure. Clawing, biting, kicking, and screaming. Smacking Luo Binghe hard across the face at one point when the man pushes him a little too far and is rewarded with the most feral grin and hard kiss, tongue down his throat. Blacks out and comes to by the scrap of blunted teeth over a bruised nipple, a rough tongue lapping sweat from the curves of his chest. His massive cock still hard inside him, dragging along his battered walls, the condom catching on the tacky remnants of drying lubricant.
Liu Qingge’s eyes, sticky with exhaustion and burning with sweat, rove over to the bedside clock's glowing clock. The neon purple numbers almost blinding in the near dark.
8:39pm
He shuddered. Almost an hour left. Big hands spread across his heaving belly, spanning nearly the width of his waist, sliding up, cupping the soft mounds of his chest, rolling his tender nipples between calloused fingers. Pinching, squeezing and flicking the bruised nubs until he keened, hands coming up weakly to push those hands away.
He was still splayed out, legs on the other side of thick muscular thighs braced around the solid torso keeping him splayed. Luo Binghe hovering over him, a devil of baroque portraiture in chiaroscuro made life. The bright white of his sclera of wide eyes near glowing as Luo Binghe released his chest with a parting squeeze and scoped Liu Qingge by his armpits. Drool dribbles out the corner of lips and is lapped up by a wide, rough tongue. Luo Binghe licks across Liu Qingge’s cheek, lapping his chin and upper lip, tasting remnants of sweat and his own cum on the man's face, before sliding into his mouth to suck lazily on his tongue.
Liu Qingge whined, thoroughly plundered. Whatever this man had left in mind to do to him was beyond him. He’d about wrung every orgasm out of him like a rag, his spent balls empty under his soft tired cock. His last orgasm was practically clear liquid, spurted weakly between their bellies already sticky with sweat and cum. His hole was on fire, pulsating and swollen and the rest of him felt like he’d run 30k, uphill, on mountainous terrain.
This man was trying to kill him. The girls hadn’t mentioned anything like this. He wasn’t a man, he was a beast.
Luo Binghe’s cock slid out of his hole with a wet squelch, leaving it gaping and clenching around nothing. The cool air is a shock to inflamed skin. Liu Qingge braces himself to be stuffed full again stuffed back in as clings, shaking around wide shoulders, quite certain the man would have him ruthlessly bouncing on his cock with no time to adjust in this new position and is shocked instead, when a calloused finger circled his hole.
“You're still so tight. So warm. It's like you fit so perfectly around me.” rumbles the demon, stuffing two thick fingers in Liu Qingge’s hole, crocking them at the angle to pet the tender spot inside. Liu Qingge jerks, clenching hard around the intrusion and starts to shake all over, his reprieve short lived.
One Hour Left.
Luo Binghe leans over to press a lingering kiss against the shell of his ear, nuzzling into the soft skin just behind as he quickens the pace of the fingers still inside the smaller man.
“Thank you, for making me feel so welcome, Liu-shishu.”
Liu Qingge cums dry with a sigh, eyes rolling back in his head, and soft cock pulsating weakly between them. The spent organ twitching with one pathetic spurt of clear fluid, lost in the mess between their bellies. It all he has left; his balls long since emptied of all his cum. Luo Binghe is far from done with him.
Somewhere behind him, Liu Qingge can makes out the wet sounds of a condom being removed, tied off and discarded. The faint splat of it landing on hardwood and the crisp crinkle of another condom wrapper opening - the third one tonight. Somewhere in his fugue he feels the rasp of a wet cloth dragging over sensitive skin followed by the blissfully cool sensation of lube dribbling between his spread cheeks.
Another condom. Another round. Luo Binghe's teeth clamped over his collarbone as he lines himself up with a groan. Liu Qingge bracing himself for the pop of his fat cock head through his sore hole followed by the long, slick stretch of him.
One. Hour. Left.