LOVER FOR PAY: The Escort & The Teacher (M/M)

by A. J. Blake

  As Marbell lay there short of breath in the center of the bed, London went for the duffel bag in his closet, the one he used to hide all of his...toys. From inside, he grabbed a small object that never failed to make him lose his mind: a vibrator. London came back onto the bed, stealing Marbell’s mouth once more as he pushed the vibrator into the teacher after coating it lightly with lube, and he pushed it as far as it was meant to go.

  Marbell gasped upon feeling the light buzzing of the toy inside him, eyes widening as he tried to catch and control his breathing. “Oh, my god,” he whined aloud.

  London then straddled the teacher, slickening his own entry before letting Marbell’s hard cock plummet into him.

  “Oh, fuck,” Marbell cursed, slim fingers clasped strongly into London’s rotating hips.

  London rocked back and forth on Marbell’s stiffness, aroused even more when he could feel the ferocity of Marbell’s grip onto his waist. “I still want you, Daddy,” London whispered between kissing a bruising around his day lover’s collarbone. It sounded like Marbell wanted to reply, but his words turned into moans when London began to ride him harder, causing him to burst within another minute.

  When Marbell couldn’t take the vibration of the toy inserted into him anymore, London happily relieved him of it, a bit proud of himself when all the other man could do afterwards was close his eyes.

  VIII – Revelation

  Marbell had passed out for an hour after London was finished with him and was finally coming to. As the two lay naked and hot with nothing but the overhead fan, Marbell opened his eyes to a slightly blurry room, a weight was lain on his chest as well, a finger sketching swirls onto his bare skin. He peered down at himself, catching sight of London’s inked form scrunched up against him. Marbell touched his soft hair and the young man looked up at him, a proud smile on his pink lips, and a satisfied glaze in his eyes. “How long was I out?” Marbell asked, sitting up now.

  London moved so the teacher could reach for his glasses on the nightstand. “Not long,” he answered, “But you should probably get going. Henry will be home in a little while, and if he finds his geometry teacher in bed with his brother, he just might faint.”

  Marbell fixed his top fringe with his hands, combing it with his fingers and raked it forward. “I thought you didn’t care what Henry thought about us.”

  Rising from the bed, London walked across the room to his dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers and a tank top. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want him to live through the torment of catching his older brother either with a dick in my mouth, or gladly taking it up the ass, especially by someone who is supposed to be teaching him how to find area and circumference and shit.”

  Marbell laughed, “Then I guess I really should go.”

  Hopping up on the surface of the dresser once he was dressed, London held onto the edge, and said, “You still have a couple minutes, though.”

  Marbell met London’s light brown eyes, feeling just how much this guy made his heart pound. Able to see his coyness, too, London quirked his brow, and said, “Why are you acting all shy?”

  The reserved teacher shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m older than you and here I am the one struggling to keep my feelings in check.”

  “Then don’t,” London countered.

  “You don’t understand,” Marbell sighed, nearing London after putting his clothes back on and kissed his forehead, “With the way my life is right now, with the way my life has been, I’ve really got to start checking myself.”

  As Marbell’s hands glided up his thighs, London looked rather bemused, and said, “What does that mean? You still want to see me after today, right?” London’s teenage desperation was showing and there was no way to hide it. “Did I do something?”

  “No, no, no,” Marbell quickly assured, “It’s just…with tonight coming, I really don’t know when the next day will be that I get to spend any given amount of time with you. Today, it was more than perfect. The only way it could have been any better is if we had the rest of the day. But, you’ve got a family to tend to and I understand that.”

  London sighed, already having experienced how his emotions took a toll after a certain number of days without Marbell went by. “You must be really busy then,” he said, the disappointment evident.

  Marbell hung his head in shame, hands moving towards London’s hips. When his fingers brushed them, the twenty-one-year-old winced, still a bit sore from Marbell’s grip earlier. “Maybe,” the teacher added, “I’ll be free sometime next week. I’ve got to check my schedule. If I find an opening, even if it’s just an hour or two, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “Good,” London said, leaning forward a couple inches to reach Marbell’s lips and kissed him sweetly.

  He walked the teacher out then, sharing one last goodbye before the man was back in his luxury car and gone. The second Marbell disappeared, Henry came walking up the sidewalk, parting ways with a few friends that road the same bus. “Hey,” London smiled to his brother, “How was school?”

  “Horrible,” the boy said adamantly. “We had a substitute in my math class today and he was a total dick.”

  London had to fight the urge to say, “I know.” To cover up, he just said, “But you got through the day, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah…” the boy marched passed London and into the house. He tossed his backpack on the couch and kicked off his shoes, even threw the purple beanie on his head aside as well. London didn’t bother telling him to take everything to his room. It wasn’t like he would even listen. As London gathered everything himself, Henry rummaged through the kitchen for something to eat, always ready to chow down on anything whenever he got home from school. When London was about to start down the hall, he flinched when he heard a loud crash come from the kitchen. Dropping what was in his arms, he ran for his brother.

  Henry was on his knees, a puddle of spaghetti sauce splattered all around him. With his hands balled into fists, he slammed them on the ground, and screamed so loud it shook London with fear. “Fuck!” the boy let out, punching the cabinet below the sink so hard it cracked, the wood splintering into his knuckles.

  “Henry!” London shouted, dashing for his brother. He tried to pull the boy off the floor, but Henry did not want to be touched.

  “Don’t touch me!” Henry shoved, throwing punches left and right.

  London jumped back, avoiding the strikes.

  Then Henry turned his need to hit something to the wall, ramming his fists so hard that his right knuckles almost cracked, but the intense pain didn’t seem to bother him. Tears rained down his red cheeks as he screamed, seeming to want to use anything as an outlet for this sudden burst of rage.

  London couldn’t watch this, couldn’t watch his brother hurt himself like this. Careful of the shards of glass on the floor, he went for Henry when the boy’s back was to him. “Stop,” he commanded, locking Henry’s arms behind his back as he failed to get free. “Henry, stop. Calm down!”

  “Let me go!” the boy screamed, kicking and jerking to loosen London’s grip.

  Not listening, London held on until his brother calmed down, which took about another minute of struggle.

  When the fuse lighting Henry’s anger began to dim, he stopped trying to free himself and sank. “I hate…” he sobbed, “I hate everything. I hate everything so fucking much. Why? Why am I so fucking pissed off all the time? Why did dad have to be such a fucking asshole? I hate him so much. Why doesn’t mom give a shit about us? I hate her so much.”

  London expected to be the next one on that list, but was surprised Henry hadn’t added him.

  “Why doesn’t anyone care about us, London?” Henry cried.

  Sure his bother wouldn’t go wild again; London began to loosen his hold. He then pulled Henry into a tight hug, squeezing him and buried his face into the mess of black hair on his head. “Our dad was raised not knowing how to care for people, Henry. Neither was mom, he corrupted that woman so much to the point w
here she disregards everyone. But we don’t need them, we have each other, Henry. I am always going to be here for you and Joyce.”

  Sulking into London’s chest, Henry tried his best to keep his words clear. “I’m always scared that one day I’m going to come home and you’ll be gone again.”

  London wondered if that was the reason Henry had snapped at him for not coming home after his first night with Marbell. “I wouldn’t dare think of doing that again,” he said, “We are the only family we’ve got. There’s no way in hell I’d abandon you.”

  “Promise you won’t leave us again.” Henry used the front of his brother’s shirt to wipe his face clean.

  “I promise,” London said, examining Henry’s right hand. “Now, try to clean up your hand, you know that cabinet hurt like hell. Your hand is going to be bruised for a while, but you should be fine. I’ve got to go pick up Joyce. Do you want to come with me?”

  Henry shook his head, picking out tiny pieces of wood from his skin, and then he rinsed it under the running water in the sink. “No, you go. I’ll clean up here.”

  “Alright,” London nodded. He went to his bedroom to dress in jeans and an open grey flannel. While he tied his shoes, he thought of how intense Henry’s anger had been. He wished he’d known just how fueled by anger his brother had been all this time. Ever since he’d returned home after TJ got arrested, Henry never took the time to sit and talk with him, so such a heated rage built off fear, anger, and resentment dwelled.

  London was just as, if not more, ill-tempered when it came to their parents, but he had no idea Henry was consumed by it as well.

  With today also being the day he had to pay for Joyce’s daycare bill, London had to pull a hundred out of the safe he had in the back storage room since he was a little short after paying the electric. He didn’t trust the bank with the amount of money produced being an escort, and also didn’t want to seem suspicious depositing frequent thousands into a savings account. Once his shoes were laced, London went to the storage room. It was somewhere to keep all the things they didn’t want crowding anywhere else, things from Henry’s old childhood toys, a computer that didn’t work, and file cabinets with insurance papers and old bills.

  When London stepped into the room, he instantly felt like something wasn’t right. The drawers to the file cabinets looked like they’d been rummaged through, a family photo album was sitting open on the keyboard of the computer, and it was missing pictures. But what had shaken London the most about the room’s disturbance, was that the safe he kept inside the closet was sitting wide open...and it was empty.

  “No,” he breathed, an abrupt feeling of despair shadowing over him. “Fuck, no, no, no.”

  London kept his voice down as to not alert Henry in the kitchen. He balled his fists into his hair and he couldn’t keep from sinking to the floor. He stared in shock at the emptiness of the safe.

  $55,000.

  That’s how much had been locked away in there.

  When?

  Who?

  Why?

  London looked around the room, eyes stopping on the window when he could see it’d been forced open, and was now cracked for not being able to close properly. Who would break into his house? Who would break into the safe? Who knew the combination? It was the date his father had been caught and thrown in prison. There were only two people in the world who could even know to take a guess at that. Henry and his mother Elaine.

  Elaine.

  “Fucking shit,” London cursed, wanting so much to scream at the top of his lungs until they shattered.

  All that time, all those nights, gone to waste, because a disgusting woman didn’t know how to get her goddamn life together. There was no way London was going to easily get all that money. Putting his hands on his knees, London tried to keep himself together. “What the fuck am I going to do?” he said. He needed the money on his card for groceries and Joyce needed clothes because she was beginning to noticeably grow out of her current ones.

  Keeping back the hot tears of bitterness, London swore over and over in his head. He’d have to settle with paying the daycare for this week, and then pull Joyce out of it since he wouldn’t be able to afford it anymore. As for food, they were going to have to deal with the small amount that they had right now until he received his check from the antique shop. These ends were never going to meet.

  After grabbing his keys from the hook in the hallway, London was stopped when Henry called him from the kitchen. He was dabbing his hand with a cloth, and asked, “Do you think you can bring something to eat home? Some McDonald’s maybe? I’m starving and there’s not really anything to eat.”

  London didn’t want to tell Henry that he was struggling financially. The last thing he wanted his family to worry about was if they’d have food on the table. Deciding to cut gas and take the city bus once his tank was empty in a couple days, London said, “Yeah, sure.”

  In his car out front, London held himself back from punching the steering wheel out of anger and frustration. How could that woman do this to them? He knew there was absolutely no one else to blame for the thievery.

  When he arrived to the daycare, Joyce was ready as always to meet her older brother at the door to her room. The bouncy, red-haired little girl threw herself at him, London catching her and picking her up. Her purple backpack was strapped to her back, and she was carrying a finger painting. She hugged him tightly and the teacher signed her out.

  Paying the lady at the front of the daycare, London unenrolled his sister before heading out. “Look what I make,” Joyce waved her painting in London’s face. “Butterflies!”

  London admired the artwork, “Butterflies, yeah, they’re very nice.”

  She pointed to the biggest one in the middle of the blue construction paper, “That one you, that one Henry, and that one me. I red like my hair!”

  “Why am I pink, then?”

  “‘Cos, silly,” Joyce kissed her brother’s nose, “London pretty like pink.”

  “Oh, okay,” London smiled for his sister even though on the inside he could virtually feel himself about to crumble.

  He thought he was doing a good job at it until Joyce wiped her hands down his cheeks, and said, “No, London, no cry. Why you crying?”

  London opened the back door of his car, ready to put Joyce in her car seat and buckle her up. Wiping the last of the tears onto his sleeve, he said, “I’m fine. See?”

  Joyce frowned, not believing her brother at all. The four-year-old hugged her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder. “London, no cry. No be sad.”

  London had to hold his breath or he was going to start bawling. He rubbed a hand on Joyce’s back, appreciating her means to want him to feel better. He then dropped into the front seat when a thought came to him.

  Marbell.

  He would help him out in this time of distress, right? As much as he didn’t want to have to ask the man for money anymore, London really needed it, at least until next week. Whipping out his phone, he dialed Marbell. The first try went to voicemail so London tried one more time. As the phone rang, it was answered on the fourth ring. “Marbell,” London started once the call was taken, “I really need your help.”

  “Jesus Christ,” a voice on the other line huffed, but this definitely wasn’t Marbell. No, it was a woman. “You damn so-called directors can’t do anything on your own, my husband is occupied at the moment so you’ll have to figure it out yourselves.”

  A single word was all London caught: husband.

  London could have sworn he stopped breathing in that instant, “You’re his wife?” he managed to ask.

  “Um, yes,” she sounded offended, “Don’t you know anything about your boss?”

  Wife? Was she serious? She had to be serious.

  “I – uh – I guess not,” London replied, the call ending after that with an annoyed disconnect from the other line. He sat there in the car staring at his phone for a good minute.

  Marbell...was mar
ried!?

  IX – Vent

  With Saturday upon him, London was exhausted from not being able to sleep the night before. He’d sat up in the living room for hours overthinking everything from yesterday. Having lost every penny he’d made escorting, the added confusion in finding out Marbell was married only made things a hundred times worse. He had an untreatable migraine, couldn’t, or more like wouldn’t eat anything, and the threat of bursting into tears overwhelmed him every couple minutes. He called the antique shop in the morning to see if they needed any help so we could pile on more hours, but he’d already gone over during the week. Going to work would always give him the chance to keep his mind busy, but now he was stuck at home with not a thing to do.

  As Joyce busied herself playing with her dolls and running around the house in her underwear, London dumped all the clean laundry on the sofa and began folding everything. Henry entered after a minute, almost tripping over Joyce who’d crawled out from around the corner. “You sure did sleep long,” London said. It was one in the afternoon.

  Henry stepped over Joyce’s many dolls and the old superhero figures he used to play with, and dropped down onto the sofa. He wore dark jeans a black t-shirt with the words Loveless on it, his black hair bundled under a purple beanie. “So, I was thinking earlier, and I wanted to ask you something.”

  Stacking his own shirts aside, London said, “If it involves money, I’m going to have to say ‘no’.”

  “It doesn’t,” Henry assured, “I want to ask you about Dad. You spent a hell of a lot more time with him than I ever did growing up, so I was wondering if it’d be alright if we talked about him.”

  London sighed, “All you need to know is that he was a total piece of shit.”

  “I know, but he treated us totally different. Compared to me and Joyce, he didn’t even seem to view you as a human being. Why?”

  This was true, even though they were brothers and lived together until Henry was eleven, the now sixteen-year-old knew absolutely nothing about London’s childhood with their Old Man, or at least the worst parts of it. For heaven’s sake, London hadn’t known about his baby sister until he found out the Old Man was being charged with murder.