Ivygate - Part 3

All characters are 18+

Half of the sign had fallen off years ago, so the motel was actually called High Motel, which was rather apt given the usual clientele. Noah locked his bike up next to the reception, but he bypassed it and headed straight for the stairs. He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the broken windows, fixed his hair, and proceeded to room 33.

Early morning jobs were usually easier and less exhausting than evening ones. These were reserved for the men who wanted to fuck and go about their day, and Noah was perfectly fine with that. He didn’t like talking endlessly, especially when he knew that the men asking the questions didn’t care.

He thought back to the previous client. It was extremely rare to have someone pay him for nothing more than his company, rarer again when his company was rather dismal. He chalked it down to luck and knocked twice on the white wooden door.

The man named Pierre opened the door, and instead of finding a greasy, discreet married man, Noah gawped at a truly stunning middle aged guy who was bulging inside the tight white shirt.

“Noah?” He asked, stepping aside, and the teen nodded and swallowed. “Please, come in”.

He had an accent, but it wasn’t particularly strong. By his name, Noah guessed he was French. His skin was tanned and flawless, and his features were as dark as night.

The room didn’t suit the man, but that wasn’t surprising. It was a cheap, nasty hotel, and Pierre was anything but.

“Would you mind undressing?” He asked, sticking a cigar between his lips and lighting it.

For the first time in a long time, Noah was actually feeling rather aroused by the idea of having sex with this person. He was one of the most handsome men he had ever met, so he began to strip almost instantly, but couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with the beautiful Frenchman.

When he stood naked, he almost felt embarrassed. He was nothing compared to Pierre, and there was something extremely vulnerable about standing before the man like this. He managed to look over from under his brows, and Pierre simply watched him.

“Could you turn around, please?” He asked, and the request was firm yet polite. It made Noah believe that although the man had paid money to do whatever he wanted, he was still giving the boy an option.

He shuffled around on his bare feet, allowing Pierre to study his plump backside. He liked his ass, it was one of his best features according to the reviews.

“Could you pull your cheeks apart and bend forward, please?”

Noah’s face began to burn. More often than not, the men who paid for his services supplied him with alcohol before they got down to business. It usually helped with the nerves, but this morning, he was completely sober.

He did as he was asked, and Pierre ran his finger down his own sharp jaw and nodded.

“Turn back around please” he said, and Noah cocked a brow.

What was this all about? Was the man simply going to look at him? He turned around and let his arms drop to his sides. He stared back at Pierre now, but the man’s eyes were firmly on his junk.

“Have you ever measured it?” He asked, without looking up.

“Yes”.

“And?”

“Six inches”

“And flaccid?”

“No idea”.

Pierre sucked a mouthful of smoke and blew it out before leaving the cigar on an ashtray and beckoning Noah closer. The young man’s heart raced slightly faster as he walked, and when he stopped, he watched and waited as Pierre’s hand reached out and took his soft tool.

“Three” he said eventually, and Noah looked down to see a small tape in Pierre’s hand. He scrunched his face in confusion.

“Did you just measure me?” He asked, and Pierre sat back and took another puff of his cigar.

“You’ve got a very nice body, Noah” he said.

“Um… Thanks, I guess. Are we um… Are we gonna fuck?”

Pierre shook his head slowly, but his beautiful smile remained on his face. “No, but I’ll still pay you, of course”.

This was becoming too weird. First Oliver in the coffee shop, now Pierre in this run down motel. Was there something wrong with him today? He checked himself in the mirror, trying to work out what the problem was, but Pierre got to his feet and placed his strong hands on Noah’s slender shoulders. Even the man’s touch made him melt.

“You’re very beautiful” he whispered, and Noah inhaled the aroma of expensive cologne and cigar musk. “Thank you for coming”.

With those words, Pierre placed two one hundred dollar bills on the desk, picked up his briefcase and left Noah naked and confused.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked himself, scrambling for his clothes and grabbing the cash. A moment later, his phone buzzed.

Pierre has rated this experience five stars out of five.

The young man shook his head in bewilderment and walked outside, and no sooner had he gotten there, his phone buzzed again.

“Let me guess” he half laughed, digging in his pocket, “another weirdo”.

Sebastian has requested your company. Click here to accept. Click here to decline.

Noah rubbed his eyes. He’d already made three hundred bucks this morning, and that wasn’t even the payment from the agency. He barely made that much money on busy weeks, and these were just tips! He wondered if his luck was about to run out, but the old pub on Rock Street was only a few minutes away, so what did he have to lose? He jumped back on his bike, and minutes later, he had arrived.

Sebastian was the most exotic man he had ever laid eyes on. He must have been at least six foot five, and looked as though he had been carved from the blackest stone known to man. When he spoke, he had no discernable accent, but Noah couldn’t help but be amazed by him.

“Your file says you were tested for sexually transmitted infections eight weeks ago” he said, as Noah sat down opposite and nodded. It wasn’t unusual for clients to enquire about his status, and he wasn’t offended. What was unusual, however, was what Sebastian said next.

“Do you mind if I do a quick blood test?” He asked, “just a fingertip prick”.

Noah laughed and waited for Sebastian to speak to him seriously, but when the man simply stared, he realised that it hadn’t been a joke.

“You want to test me?” The teen asked, and now he was becoming mildly offended. “I don’t do bareback” he added under his breath as the old bar woman glanced over at them, “I don’t need to be tested”.

Sebastian waited for him to finish before placing a small, blue lancet on the table. “I’d really like if you’d humour me” he said.

Noah scoffed and sat back. Was this guy serious? He glared at the lancet and the vial that Sebastian placed next to it, and for nothing more than to simply get this entire thing over with, he grabbed it and spiked it into his finger.

“Happy?” He spat, pushing his bleeding fingertip into the plastic vial.

“Very, thank you”.

As the two of them sat in silence until Noah’s blood filled the bottle to the marker, he couldn’t help but wonder what on earth had gotten into people today. He closed the lid, slid it across the table, and Sebastian handed him a band aid.

“Thank you, Noah” he said, and got to his feet.

“Where are you going?” He snapped, watching as the large man slipped the vial into his shirt pocket. “And what are you doing with that?!”

Sebastian pulled out his wallet and placed three hundred dollars on the table. In that instant, Noah completely forgot about his blood, and stared at the cash instead.

“I do hope I haven’t upset you” the man said, and as he walked by, he squeezed Noah’s shoulder.

“I think I’m going insane” the teen said to himself, now staring at the six hundred dollars that he’d amassed for doing absolutely nothing. “I’m really going insane”.

“You are, pet” the old woman called across, “I remember when I first started talking to myself, and let me tell ya’, it’s all down hill from there!”

Noah laughed and pushed his hand through his hair, wincing at the sting in his finger. What did the man want with his blood? It was the strangest request he’d ever gotten, and that was saying something. Was he going to clone him or something? The idea made him squirm.

Sebastian has rated this experience five stars out of five.

“If one more person” he began, but secretly, he was beginning to enjoy these sexless rendezvous’. He was being paid more than he ever had before, and he hadn’t even sucked a dick yet! As he sat there with his eyes pinned to the screen of his phone, he realised that there were no more invites coming. He sighed, got to his feet and bid farewell to the bar woman.

Unless he got another booking in the mean time, there was only one job left. It was one of those fancy gigs. A penthouse suite in the most expensive hotel in the city. Noah knew from experience that even his wealthiest clients couldn’t afford a place like that, so either the man whom he knew only as R was disgustingly rich, or he was going to be confronted by a whole group of men. He grimaced at both ideas, and returned to his house.