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-BZZT BZZT BZZT BZZT BZZT BZZT-</i><br/>Roger silenced the alarm with a sluggish tap on his cracked phone screen. He pushed himself upright, then threw his legs over the side of the bed. He yawned, stretching out his long body. His tan skin was dotted with goosebumps from the chilly fall air creeping in through the open window. The breeze brushed over his bare chest, and back, and made him shudder.<br/>He carelessly threw his hand over to grab his phone, but he overestimated the length of his own arm, and sent the phone sliding off the nightstand with a crash. “God dammit,” he muttered as he reached down the gap between the nightstand and the wall.<br/>His phone didn't have any new cracks in it, which was good. The time was 6:32 AM. He breathed a sigh of relief and set the phone down gently this time.<br/>Roger got out of bed, knees cracking as he stood up. “Yeesh, that's attractive…” he mumbled as he dragged his feet over to the dresser. He didn't even really bother to look for something to wear, he just grabbed a shirt, a pair of black faded jeans, and of course, underwear.<br/>He threw his clothes onto the bathroom counter, and quickly stripped off last night's boxers, kicking them to the side, into the designated dirty laundry pile. He turned the water up as hot as he could stand it, adjusting it until it was just right.<br/>He liked the feeling of warm water rushing through his hair. It was not unlike the warm hand of another.<br/>He grabbed his only bottle of shampoo, which was a generic brand, scented ‘morning mist.’ He wondered if the shampoo companies have ever even smelled a misty morning. Most misty mornings he’s ever smelled smelt kinda like misty ass, to be truthful. Was that their advertising game? You think you smell your own B.O., but it's actually the<i>morning mist: Misty ass</i>scented shampoo you bought, so you have to go to the store to buy more deceitful scents of shampoo? He popped open the lid of the shampoo.<br/>He hummed suspiciously. It just smelled like soap. As it should have. Then whose ass was he smelling all the time? Oh, wait, that was just the smog. City living, truly wonderful.<br/>He lathered the shampoo into his hair, sighing softly as he wondered what he would do with his day off. He closed his eyes, rinsing the suds from his curly tresses.<br/>He thought of spending the day down at the Tiger’s Den, a notorious, high class male whore house, for lack of better word. Who gets up at 6am to go to a whorehouse? Roger Montoya, that's who.<br/>He hurriedly dried off, then got dressed. Within a matter of minutes, he was on his way out the front door. The Tiger's Den was a quick walk away from his house, and that was his excuse for being there so often, or at least he told himself that. With the kind of dedication he spent coming down to the Tiger's Den, he could have easily gotten himself into a real relationship.<br/><br/>The morning air smelled absolutely terrible, and there was a nice cloud of fog everywhere. It was damp, it was cold, but that was normal. He knew by midday, it would get warm and nasty too. It wasn't quite ‘fall’ enough to be fall, but it was definitely not summer anymore.<br/>He passed a mainstream coffee shop, which already seemed to have a line to the door. He noticed a sign in the window ‘pumpkin spice is back!’. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor young man all by himself at the register, his wide, fearful eyes, and his hat already knocked askew. The girl at checkout must have ordered 11 drinks. Good luck kid.<br/><br/>He picked the pace back up, until he could see the orange glow of the sign through the fog.<br/>The orange neon sign stood out pleasingly against the aqua color of the sunrise, and just like always, there was a tall, broad shouldered man in all black, standing at the entrance. Everything was cast in a foggy orange glow. The man at the door stood on guard as he noticed someone approaching.<br/><br/>The man’s expression became much friendlier as he recognized Roger.<br/>“Back at it again?” The man teased as he and Roger shook hands in an all too familiar greeting.<br/><br/>“Yep, I just can't stay away, I guess.” Roger laughed, but also felt a little embarrassed about being here so often, but it was great service.<br/><br/>“I'm sorry, but you can't come in today. It's a new rule that just started, we can't serve people wearing red. Boss doesn't like the color red. You gotta go. Bye.” The tall man said, giving Roger a playful shove “I'm just jokin, go on in.” He said, laughing as Roger gave him a faux sour look.<br/><br/>“I'll make sure to wear blue next time,” Roger joked back.<br/><br/>“Nope, can't wear blue either.” The tall man said bluntly, and Roger clicked his tongue disapprovingly.<br/><br/>“I'll come naked then, if that's the case,” Roger said, shrugging slightly.<br/><br/>“Aren't you supposed to come naked anyway?”<br/>There was a moment of silence between the two of them, the tall man smiling as he waited for a reaction. The only sound was the buzzing of the neon light above their heads.<br/><br/>“You're nasty.” Roger laughed as he finally entered the building. He shut the door behind him, but he could still hear the man laughing outside the door.<br/><br/>The inside of the building was dimly lit, and each table was lighted with a single candle placed under a shade with tiger-striped cutouts that created an odd ambiance, not unlike being submerged in water. The original building was old, however, it had a few modern touches here and there. There was a soft string of peach colored lights lining the ceiling, and the floor, to keep the mood very soft, and imitate the glow of candlelight. The usual area where the men would sit before a customer would make their selection was vacant, which was expected, as most of the men were probably still getting ready. However, he could hear some ruckus from the kitchen. Food was also served here, which was a treat, because he often liked to have a quick meal with his man for the night. Even though this was no five star restaurant, the food here was as sublime as the many young men who worked here.<br/><br/>Suddenly, he heard the hard click of high heels. He turned, and saw the always flawless looking Isaac Belmonte, the curator of this establishment. He knew one thing about him, and that was this man had more money than you could shake a stick at. He was almost certain that the man's hazel eyes were somehow made of gold, but that would be absurd. Although, absurd was exactly what Isaac was. Absurdly rich. Absurdly perfect, absurdly absurd. A walking symbol of the bourgeois. Roger couldn't tell if he hated him, or hated that he wanted to be him. Probably a bit of both.<br/><br/>“Come to pester my boys today?” He said cooly, giving Roger the slightest of smiles. Isaac was wearing a suit that had to have cost more than Roger’s house itself. It was a silky black suit, with flowery veins of gold all throughout it. He was also sporting a matching cape, and black gloves too. His heeled boots went so well with the outfit, but Isaac was so tall already that they served no other purpose than to be another display of Isaac's showmanship. Every hair on his too-perfect head was curled so effortlessly that he was sure the man had to have gotten up at 4 in the morning just to look like that. He was so put together, it pissed him off. Yet here Roger was in a rusty red tshirt, a black pair of jeans, and a pair of old shoes.<br/><br/>“You know it.” Roger said, smiling through gritted teeth. “So, uh, your outfit today, it's uh.. that's quite an outfit.”<br/><br/>“Oh, this?” Isaac started modestly, daintily picking up the edge of his cape between his index finger and thumb. As he lifted the cape, subtle threads started reflecting light, revealing another intricate floral pattern. “It's nothing special, it was just a little chilly out, I had to throw on something warm. Doesn't it look good?”<br/><br/>Fake modesty, his biggest weakness! “It looks wonderful, but then again-”<br/><br/>“It was a rhetorical question, I already know everything looks good on me.” Isaac chuckled smugly.<br/>“Well you aren't wrong, but-”<br/><br/>“Stop there,” Isaac lifted a gloved finger to roger’s lips. “There's no buts if I'm not wrong, see?” Isaac pulled his finger away, and Roger gave a small sigh.<br/><br/>“You're right.” Roger admitted defeat.<br/><br/>“I am.” Isaac nodded.<br/>Isaac lead the two of them over to the seated area. He flattened his cape against his thighs, and sat down gently, crossing his ankles in a princess like manner. He folded his hands In his lap, and looked towards Roger, who was sitting far back in the chair, with his knees apart. He rested his elbow on the arm rest, and propped his head up In his hand.<br/><br/>“So, you've met all the men here, right?” Isaac asked, leaning towards Roger, and lowering his voice, indicating the conversation was taking a private turn. “I've heard a lot of good things about you from my boys, they seem to really like you.” His voice took on a bit of a flirtatious purr.<br/>Roger quietly listened, knowing not to jump in before Isaac finished a thought.<br/>“So, there is one of my boys. I'm having a bit of trouble getting him to work with new clients. He’s a good boy, but he’s not going to make any money for himself if he doesn't put himself out there, Roger.” Isaac placed his hand on roger’s knee, Roger was still silent, but listening intently. The light from the candles flickered around them. Isaac continued.<br/>“So, my loyal patron,” Isaac’s hand snuck up roger’s thigh, but stopped short before treading into intimate territory. “Do you think you can help him?”<br/>Roger was mindful of the hand on his thigh, but not opposed to it. In fact, he might need a little stimulation to help him get into the mood for his next purchase.<br/>Isaac drew light circles on roger’s thigh with his fingertip. “He's a favorite of mine,” Isaac mused, and Roger could see a soft blush on his cheeks. “I'd like to see him more active with some of our patrons, you might be good for him.”<br/><br/>“And what about this guy? What makes him a favorite of yours?” Roger was interested, but he knew nothing about this guy.<br/><br/>“You're an intuitive man, figure it out.” Isaac winked. He glanced around the room, then back at Roger.<br/><br/>Roger raised an eyebrow, not really following Isaac's lead.<br/><br/>“Are we in a whorehouse, or not! What do you think makes him my favorite!” Isaac threw his hands up, and only then did Roger get what he was trying to imply. “Goodness, Montoya! Sex! It's what you come here for!”<br/><br/>“You don't have to shout!” Roger’s shoulders tended as Isaac raised his voice. He looked at some of the young men who were starting to show up for work. One of them giggled as he made eye contact with him. Roger waved sheepishly, and the young man turned bright pink, and buried his face into his friend's shoulder.<br/><br/>“Apparently I do,” Isaac muttered lowly. He looked over at the giggling boys. The sight of the flustered boy made him smile, and he turned back to Roger. “See what you do to these boys? I want to see my dear Marco like that, but the boy is so…” He cast his eyes down, furrowing his brow. His hands clenched lightly as he toyed with his cape.<br/><br/>“Alright, I'll take the guy.” Roger agreed, not liking the genuine look of worry on Isaac's stupid-perfect face. It almost made him look like a human with feelings.<br/><br/>“Oh! You're too kind!” Isaac smiled, placing his hand on Roger's shoulder. “I’ll make it up to you, you won't be disappointed.” He said softly before standing up. “I'll be right back, I have to go speak with Marco. Look handsome,” Isaac directed, though he turned his head away to hide a smirk. “It shouldn't be too hard, not for you at least.” He began walking towards the staircase that led to the suites.<br/><br/>Roger stared blankly at the back of Isaac's head as the man walked away. He couldn't tell what he was feeling, cause the stupidly-perfect, always flawless, rich beyond all reason, and stunningly gorgeous Isaac goddamn Belmonte called him handsome. He must have been making the worst face, as it was quite hard to hide then horrendously smug smile he had.<br/>He sat by himself, chuckling cheekily, which defeated the purpose of trying to act handsome.<br/><br/>Isaac opened the door to the suit which Marco was staying. The lights were dark, Marco must have been sleeping. Isaac softly walked over to the cabinet. He always made sure it was well stocked with marco’s favorite teas. He had a pot of hot water brewing, ready for the teas. He glanced over at the couch, noticing a sliver of skin poking through the lump of blankets. One the tea reached peak temperature, Isaac began steeping the teabags, and the room burst to life with the smell of green tea and peppermint. He started humming, which quickly graduated to signing a upbeat tune. He put the teas he made for himself, and Marco onto a tray, and carried it over to where the younger man was sleeping.<br/><br/>He set the tray down on the coffee table, and sat on the edge of the couch.<br/>“Marco, darling,” Isaac called out to the other male. “You awake?” He reached over, softly brushing his hand over the young man’s exposed skin. “I've got your favorite tea!” He chirped, voice wavering in a singsong manner. A few moments of silence passed, and Isaac leaned over to where he assumed the boy’s ears would be. “You don't want to wait for it to get cold, right? I made it just for you. Now, be good, and get up and enjoy your tea with me.” The body heat radiating from the blankets made him want to nuzzle against them. He planted a kiss on the lump that he assumed was Marco’s head, and his hand was still petting the bare skin that was peeking out from under the blankets.  “Come on, I want to see your sleepy face.” Growing impatient, Isaac started spamming the boy with pokes. "Up, you shite, tea!"