Inell's Fanfiction Archive

The apartment building is so upscale and fancy that Stiles feels out of place even stepping foot in the lobby. The guy at the security desk is dealing with a loud man complaining about dog poop, so he hurries to the elevators before anyone can point out that he totally doesn’t belong here. Fortunately, as he reaches elevators, one of the doors opens, so he isn’t going to have to wait long. A woman wearing a lot of perfume and carrying a tiny dog wearing a collar that probably costs more than he’s ever had in his bank account walks out. Stiles looks after her, having another wave of doubts, and he almost misses the elevator because he’s distracted. He manages to catch the door before it closes and steps inside, his heart beating along with the click clack of the rich woman’s high heels on the fancy tile floor.

When the elevator doors slide shut, he checks his phone to confirm the apartment number. It’s on the fifteenth floor, so he pushes the appropriate button before leaning back against the wall. Only it’s a mirror wall, so he’s probably smudging it, and, knowing his luck, they’ll try charging him for something, so he straightens up quickly and tries not to fidget too much. He’s nervous, though, so it isn’t like he can stop himself from tapping his foot or playing with his phone. Now that he’s here, he can’t help but remember Scott’s warning about this ranking at the top of the list of Stupid Shit Stiles Does. Scott’s probably right, of course, not that Stiles would ever admit that.

With his financial aid falling through at the last minute and the only jobs hiring around campus paying minimum wage, if that, it’s not like he’s got a lot of options. Sure, he toyed with the idea of doing a cam show since he likes jacking off and getting paid to do it wouldn’t be a bad thing, but that takes an investment of time that he just doesn’t have right now because he needs money like yesterday, not in months when he’s able to build up a following. Being an escort is a quick money fix, and Erica has assured him that it didn’t even involve sex. Of course, she’d added that he could always do that if he wanted since he might make more, not that she’s speaking from experience. The fact that he’s pansexual just makes him more hire-able, since he’s open to escorting men or women or, hell, he’s even willing to do two at once because that might make it worth dipping into the gray legality of sex for hire.

As it is, he’s not interested in fucking the people who hire him to escort them unless he actually feels an attraction because he does have some morals. Shut up Isaac. They are there, carefully hidden beneath a sarcastic wit and penchant for trouble, but they’re there. Besides, his dad would kill him then find a way to bring him back from the dead in order to lecture him then probably kill him again if he started doing that kind of thing. Ms. Morrell, call me Marin, who owned the escort agency, has sworn to him that she runs a classy business and no one will force anything that he doesn’t want. He knows that is probably true, too, since there isn’t much chance that Boyd would support Erica working there if she’s forced to fuck clients. Still, it all makes him nervous.

The elevator is pretty slow for such a hoity toity place. He glances at the mirrored wall and realizes he looks just as anxious as he feels. Fuck. The suit he’s wearing does look good, at least. Thank you Lydia. Especially considering he hasn’t worn it since high school graduation, which was three years ago. It’s tighter around the shoulders now that he’s actually developed some muscle, but the pants make his ass look good, so it’s a fair trade. Not that he expects his date to necessarily care about how his ass looks. Still, it does at least give him some confidence. He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing up the careful job that Erica did styling it, and he starts counting so he can slow his breathing to calm down.

The ding of the elevator startles him, and he has to laugh at himself for being such an idiot as he steps out onto the fifteenth floor. He finds room 1565 easy enough, and he looks at the email again to make sure the number is right. His client, Daniel Mahealani, is expecting him at seven. Marin’s email states that he’s expected to dress formal to escort the client to a party. The client requested someone young and good looking to basically act as arm candy. Since Stiles has never really considered himself attractive enough to be arm candy, he’s flattered that Marin considered him qualified for this one. Of course, there might not have been anyone else available, but he tries not to let his insecurity lead him down that road.

When his phone shows five minutes till seven, he decides it is close enough to let the client know he’s there. He pushes the buzzer and waits, annoyance slowly replacing the nervousness as no one responds. Stiles frowns at his phone. It definitely says seven, and this is the right apartment number. So he buzzes again. Finally, he hears movement and the door swings open to reveal his client. Stiles blinks when he sees the guy standing there. He’s too fucking hot to need an escort, that’s for sure. He’d just have to go to any bar and snap his fingers to get them lining up to have a chance with him. He’s taller than Stiles, really well built, and could easily be beside the Wikipedia article on ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ without even getting complaints from trolls. He’s also wearing a pair of worn denim jeans and a tight t-shirt, neither of which seem to fit a date to a party.

“Can I help you?” The guy is looking at him curiously, slightly interested as his gaze sweeps over Stiles before focusing on his face

“Daniel Mahealani?” Stiles has to make sure because he still can’t believe this guy would be spending as much money as it costs to pay him for a date.

“It’s Danny. Do I know you?” Daniel it is then. Wow. Stiles can’t believe his luck. He’s been expecting some old dude with bad breath that smells like onions and instead he’s got GQ Hottie with broad shoulders and pretty eyes.

“I’m Stiles, from Morrell’s.” He doesn’t know if any nosy neighbors are listening at their doors, so he isn’t going to add the ‘Escort Service’ bit. “You requested me to be here at seven.”

“Stiles from what?” Now he looks confused instead of curious. “I didn’t request anything.”

Stiles looks around before leaning closer. Damn, he smells good, too. “Um, the escort place? You requested one? Well, that’s me. I mean, she sent me.”

Danny makes a choking noise as he takes a step back inside his apartment. “Is this a joke? Damn it, did Jackson pay you to do this? If so, it isn’t funny. I didn’t request anyone, especially not an escort.”

“I don’t know anyone named Jackson, and, yes, you did.” Stiles waves his phone at him. “I’ve got the email with my assignment right here. Daniel Mahealani at seven, apartment 1565. That’s you and this is the place and it’s now two minutes after seven. And, let me tell you, I don’t come cheap, so I’d think it was too much for some prank, even for a rich dude.”

“I don’t care what your email says.” Danny shakes his head. “I haven’t requested anything.”

“You know, this isn’t really how I envisioned my first assignment going,” Stiles mutters. Suddenly, a horrible thought occurs to him. “It’s me, isn’t it? The request was for someone good looking enough to be arm candy, and now that I’ve seen you, you probably wanted someone just as hot you are, which I’m definitely not. Dude, you can just tell me I’m not your type without lying about the whole thing. I should have known it was too good to be true.”

“Since you’re obviously either hard of hearing or not very bright, I’ll say it again,” Danny says in a rather sarcastic manner that Stiles totally shouldn’t find attractive but damn it if he doesn’t want to push him against the wall and lick him. “For the last time, I did not hire an escort. You have the wrong room. It has nothing to do with how hot you are or whether you’re my type or not. And stop calling me dude.”

“Am I?” Stiles can’t help but ask.

“Are you what?” Danny is rubbing the bridge of his nose, which is such a familiar action that Stiles starts to relax despite the entire disaster currently happening.

“Your type.” Stiles slowly smiles and steps closer. “You know, the fee has already been paid, and I highly doubt there’s another Daniel Mahealani in this town, so that means I’m yours for the next five hours.”

Danny’s eyes narrow. “Already paid? Five hours? Exactly five?”

“Yes, and yes. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Fucking Jackson. I’m going to kill him.” Danny shakes his head and has his phone out, angrily pushing against the screen as he walks inside his apartment.

“I’ll just come in then,” Stiles mutters as he follows him, closing the door behind him. He takes a look around, not surprised that the place doesn’t look at all like the Boho College chic that he and Scott have going on at their place. There’s an entire wall of movies, video games, and books that has him tempted to go snoop, but he’s also intrigued by the fancy computer equipment set up where Danny’s standing. Or maybe it’s just having a chance to ogle a really nice ass.

“Jackson, you’re a dead man. I know you’re there and not picking up because you’re a coward,” Danny is saying, his voice calm in a scary way that makes Stiles think about his dad catching him stealing whiskey during junior year. That Jackson guy is probably going to piss his pants when he gets that message because it’s way scarier than yelling. “When you said I needed to get over Ethan and stop hiding away, your suggestion of a five hour fuck taking my mind off of him didn’t happen to be inspired by the fact that you bought me an escort did it? I’m over him, and just because I don’t want to go clubbing whenever you want to doesn’t mean I need to get laid. But fine. You want me to have marathon sex with the hot escort, then guess what, buddy? You get to know all about it.” He ends the call and tosses the phone on the nearby table.

Stiles blinks as he listens to Danny, putting the pieces together to figure out that this Jackson must be a friend who is tired of his heartbroken friend, and it’s actually sweet, except for the fact that Stiles isn’t a prostitute. It’s an easy mistake to make since he had even made it before Erica slugged him and set him straight years ago. “Um, I’m not Julia Roberts.”

“What?” Danny has gone to the fancy computer equipment and is messing with it so he looks over his shoulder, probably catching Stiles staring at his ass if his knowing smile is any indication.

“You know, Pretty Woman? Dude, it might be an old movie, but it’s classic. You’re totally hotter than Richard Gere, by the way, not that he isn’t pretty good for a silver fox, but whatever. I’m not a hooker is what I’m trying to say. I’m an escort. I escort people. With no nudity or sex stuff guaranteed.”

“I’m glad you’re not Julia Roberts since I only like cock.” Danny’s lips are twitching slightly. “Here’s the deal, Stiles. You’ve already been paid, you think I’m hot, and I find you attractive, too. I’m also not your client since I didn’t pay for you, so it wouldn’t be sex for money. My best friend is an obnoxious meddling asshole who needs to learn his lesson. You want to help me get back at him or not?”

Stiles likes the devious smile that spreads across Danny’s lips following his question. “You never answered my question earlier.”

Danny finishes with the computer equipment and straightens up, crooking his finger at Stiles in a very sexy come hither way that has his knees feeling slightly weak. “Come here and find out.”

“What are you planning to do to get back at him?” Stiles steps closer, licking his lips as he stares at Danny’s mouth.

“We are going to get a little payback,” he says, reaching out when Stiles is close enough and pulling him against him. “How do you feel about being filmed?”

“Seriously?” Stiles grins. “Man, remind me not to ever piss you off. I assume you aren’t planning to blackmail me, cause, if so, I’m a poor college senior who is having to escort to pay his tuition, so it’s like every bad cliché you read about in Cosmo, only I’m a guy instead of a woman. And I’m down for revenge since this Jackson guy really should learn not to play with people’s lives like that, especially since your revenge thing involves us having sexs.”

“I made millions on an app before I graduated high school, and I’ve only made more since then. I think you’re safe from blackmail.” Danny leans down and ghosts his lips across Stiles’ cheek. “I won’t upload it anywhere, and I’ll cut Jackson’s dick off if he ever tries, so it’s only going to be seen by us and him. And he’ll watch it all even if he knows it’s payback because you’re not only my type but his, too.”

“What exactly is he going to be watching?” Stiles hasn’t reached out to touch because he’s enjoying letting Danny control this. God, he’s never going to hear the end of it from Erica if she finds out he fucked his first client. It’s been two years since his last relationship, though, and he’s never much cared for random one night stands after he got those out of his system freshman year. Sure, this is probably just a one night stand, but it’s not a quickie in a bar bathroom, so he thinks that means it’s better. Besides, Danny is hot like fire.

“He’s going to watch me strip this suit off of you and then he’ll watch your face as I suck your cock. He’ll be hard by the time you’re coming, but he’s stubborn, so it’ll take more to really get him going. When you’re on your knees, fingers clenching the blankets, ass wet and open from my tongue, then he’ll be unable to resist bringing out his cock and getting off. He’ll come before us, sitting there at his computer with come drying on his hand as you cry out and beg for more. Because you will beg, Stiles.” Danny is stroking the back of his neck with his thumb, his words painting an extremely vivid image that has Stiles half hard already.

He swallows and looks up from beneath his lashes in a move he’s painstakingly perfected over the years. It works just as well as always when Danny actually groans and presses closer. “Then he’ll get hard again, won’t he? As he watches me return the favor? As I use my fingers to get you ready, fucking you so slow and patient, making you desperate for me? I might beg, but so will you. And as you come on my cock, screaming my name, he’ll beg, too.”

“Fuck.” Danny curses softly before he kisses Stiles. Their noses bump, but it doesn’t take long before they adjust their positions to make it even better. Wet and hot, Stiles finally touches, reaching out to push Danny’s t-shirt up so he can touch those muscles that have distracted him from the moment the door opened. Danny is sucking on his tongue, big hands kneading his ass through his suit pants, the kiss deepening as Stiles feels the wall suddenly pressing against his back.

“Should we, uh, move this in front of the camera?” he asks in between kisses, scraping his blunt nails against Danny’s left nipple. He’s rewarded with a low groan, so he does it again.

“No need. I’ve got cameras everywhere.” Danny retaliates by pressing a hard thigh against Stiles’ hardening cock and rubbing in a way that makes Stiles gasp. A smirk greets him as Danny leans back, rubbing again. “It’s too bad Jackson isn’t here. If he was, we could both take you apart over and over.”

“I, uh, fuck.” Stiles is finding it difficult to think when Danny is rubbing against him. “You can always hire me again. Two for one special?”

Danny laughs. “I didn’t hire you this time, though I can’t say I’m all that pissed at Jackson anymore for doing it for me. You look good like this, Stiles. But you’ll look even better with my come on your lips. Such a pretty damn mouth. But first, I’m going to wreck you.”

As Danny slides to his knees and unfastens Stiles’ pants, he watches closely, biting his lip and bucking forward when wet warmth teases the head of his cock. There’s more teasing, light licks and slurps, and Danny just grins showing off dimples, dimples!, when Stiles starts cursing him. Then there’s nothing but begging and gasping as Danny sucks him, driving him crazy with his lips and tongue, fingers gripping his ass tight as he swallows him completely. Stiles doesn’t even have to think about that Jackson guy watching this to be vocal and desperate. It’s been too long since he’s hooked up, and Danny is really great with his mouth.

When Stiles comes, Danny swallows it, sucking him until he’s completely spent. He finally shoves him away, trying to catch his breath as he leans against the wall. “Too much. Damn, you’re amazing.”

“You’re still able to speak, so you aren’t wrecked enough yet.” Danny flashes the dimples as he stands up and kisses Stiles, the taste of come on his tongue. When he pulls back, he nuzzles Stiles’ nose. “Luckily, I’ve still got over four hours to take care of that.”

“Thank you, Jackson,” Stiles murmurs, grinning as Danny starts to unbutton his shirt.

“Yes, thank you, Jackson.” Danny looks directly at the camera nearest them and smirks. “For the gift that keeps on giving.”

“That’s awful.” Stiles can’t help groaning at the corny line. “I hope you edit that out before giving him the video.”

“We might have to do a director’s cut,” Danny muses, sliding the shirt off Stiles’ shoulders before just staring at him. “So my type that it’s ridiculous.”

Stiles can’t help but preen at the rough tone to Danny’s voice. “Wait till you see what I can do with my fingers and mouth.” He wiggles his long fingers at Danny and chuckles when Danny’s gaze follows them for a few moments.

“You might not be Julia Roberts, but I’m starting to wonder how much it would cost for an exclusive contract,” Danny mutters, kissing Stiles before he can say anything.

Scott was totally wrong, after all. This is actually one of the smartest things that Stiles has ever done. But he’s never telling Erica that it only took twenty minutes for him to get naked with his client. He’d never hear the end of it if she finds out. When Danny grips his ass and picks him up, Stiles revises his earlier thought. Becoming an escort is definitely the smartest decision he’s made in forever.