Moe, annoyed and his stomach warmed by the devoured roast beef, spat – fuck it, if he wants to feed him this way, let him, at least the restaurant manager can’t complain.

He opted for a more enticing food tray and glided into the corridor, agreeing to the terms of the game. As promised, Einar awaited him right by the curtains, gallantly opening them to let Moe pass. Moe had hoped that there would be feeding in the corridor, he quietly grumbled, adopted a politely indifferent expression, and briskly strode into the crowd. Einar stuck to him like glue, exchanging smiles with acquaintances, shaking hands, throwing short phrases, and detaining Moe by the sleeve when he attempted to escape. After ample conversation, Einar moved ahead, attempting to initiate a dialogue with Moe, “So, what's your name?”

“Mickey Mouse," Moe said, extending the tray towards reaching hands.

“Mickey," Einar rolled the name on his tongue, a sneer in his eyes. “I don't think it fits; Minnie would be better," and Moe gritted his teeth furiously.

“Why don’t you find a job?” Einar teasingly snagged a goose liver canapé, waved it under Moe's nose, and popped it into his mouth.

“Because," Moe turned toward the hallway after making a small circle.

“Enjoying the bohemian lifestyle, aren’t you?” Einar observed closely, noting any subtle shifts in Moe's expressions. “Perhaps you're an artist, dabbling in creativity during your free moments?” He chuckled, "I can picture you at the canvas, given your connection to the creative profession."

"With your imagination, you can sketch out a biography for me. No need to restrict yourself to dull facts," Moe slipped behind the drapes, sneakily looked around, and took the canapés without awaiting permission. He began to see some positive perks in the game – at least with Einar, he could indulge in eating without the fear of repercussions.”

"I'm still curious about those mundane facts; maybe I find you interesting," Einar snagged the last canapé from right under his nose, laughing. Moe, gave him a reproachful look, snorted in disbelief – sure, a wealthy and handsome man interested in a poor guy with unremarkable looks, tell me another one.

After a few bites, Moe headed towards the beverage trays. What he had consumed demanded a drink, and his weary body craved an alcoholic pick-me-up for a good night's sleep. Boldly, he grabbed the first glass on his way to the corridor, and despite being observed by the manager during his supervised meal with Einar, there was no reprimand for the feigned pitiful claim that "your guest is a pervert, demanding that I eat in front of him."

Wealthy perverts pay, granting them entitlement to everything. Thus, a waiter indulging in pricey appetizers seemed like the least of the manager's concerns, evident in his weary eyes. With the second glass, a genuine sense of well-being washed over Moe. Handing the tray to Einar, he reached into his pocket for his IQOS- at this point nobody will question whether this was the guest's request or Moe's own initiative. Who cares, we only leave once.

“You've got a smile on your face," Einar exclaimed, sipping his champagne.

“You have a very keen eye,” Moe, basking in the joy of finally feeling satisfied, grinned warmly. “Service staff smile when they're happy — we're all equal in that. Did you know that when you smile, fifty-three muscles are engaged, and your brain immediately starts sending out neurons that trigger the production of feel-good hormones?”

“I know,” Einar concluded his drink and placed the glass carefully on the tray. “How do you handle holding the tray for so long? It seems uncomfortable,” Moe examined both of his occupied hands- the glass in one, the cigarette in the other, maintaining his defiant "try to give this back to me" expression. Einar then lowered the tray to the floor and whispered intimately, "And kissing engages a hundred and forty-six muscles, with the primary kissing muscle being the orbicularis oris, the circular muscle of the mouth, did you know?"

“Maybe," Moe inhaled nicotine, along with a refreshing hint of sea salt that intensified, the scent getting noticeably closer. He cast an intrigued gaze at the attractive face, tinged with desire, and parted his lips invitingly. He felt full, slightly warmed by the good champagne, content in the present moment. The alpha seemed quite appealing; he hadn't encountered one like him before. It was worth savoring this dessert.

Einar observed him intently and cautiously, his breath warm, weighing Moe's unmistakable agreement. Carelessly releasing the glass, it shattered on the marble tiles. He sealed his lips, not with a fierce urgency, and almost indifferently slipped his tongue into Moe's mouth, gliding it along the even rows of teeth. After a minute of a pleasant but not particularly hot kiss, he pulled away.

“Wh…”

“Twenty-nine,” Moe declared, washing down Einer’s saliva with champagne, his eyes squinting playfully.

What?" Einar's face immediately froze in displeasure, his once bright and lustrous eyes losing their shine, narrowing with disgust. He subtly recoiled, then furrowed his brow in confusion at the figure. If this was the price for sex, it seemed rather paltry. “You...”

“I have twenty-nine teeth, not the standard thirty-two, and my lower jaw is narrow,” Moe explained, relishing the shift in emotion. Once a wealthy man hears a number, this usually means one thing- a poor guy calculating potential gains from him. “You wanted to ask about the number of teeth, didn’t you?”

Einar raised his eyebrows to his forehead in disbelief, easing up, dispelling the unpleasant thought that he had just been scrutinized and found lacking, and chuckled softly.

“You are not boring. How about we head to my place?”

“Not interested,” Moe fibbed, distancing himself from the wall. “But I'd appreciate it if you could ask the manager to let me go earlier. That way, he'll most probably think I am whore, but I won't care what he thinks. I'll get my money for the rest of my shift.”

“Smart,” Einar, noticing his graceful retreat, picked up the tray. “Why bother sending you off if you won't join me? You might as well finish your shift.”

“Because I can see from your confident expression that you've abandoned the hope of convincing me, so seize the opportunity, persuade me," Moe chuckled, finished his champagne, placed the empty glass down, and picked up the second one. “Do you catch my drift?”

“I catch your drift-," Einar nibbled his lip eagerly. “Alright, let's get you off duty, and then I'll commence seizing the moment, the twenty-nine-toothed.”

The manager handed over the cash without any objections, not bothering to look at Moe. He smiled at Einar, inquiring if everything was to his liking and if he required anything else. Moe looked at the banknotes and let out a dramatic and melancholic sigh, feigning a forlorn expression. Sensing Moe's transparent hint amidst Einar's amusement, the manager slipped another twenty-dollar bill.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Thanks. Can I take off?” Moe, despite the inquisitive tone, headed towards the changing room, loosening a tie that had been bothering him for quite a while. He could hear the manager, a rather attractive omega, flirting with Einar behind him, and Einar absentmindedly responding. Well, to hell with them, it was time to go.

Food and drink slowed down his mobility. He still had time to reach the shelter if he moved quickly, but he wasn't inclined to. Today's vibe was sprawling, and liberating, so as Moe removed the tailcoat and pants provided, he decided – hit the town! Changing into his own clothes, taking the powerbank, stuffing half of the money into his sock and the rest into his jeans pocket, he slung the backpack over his shoulders and pondered the pros and cons.

He leaned toward "yes". After all, the chances of being called in again were slim, and chawls hooking up with guests weren't exactly appreciated anywhere. Sneaking back into the bustling kitchen, he skillfully retrieved a bottle of wine from the drawers, snagged a head of cheese, concealed his loot behind his oversized sweatshirt, and gleefully rushed to the locker room, aiming for a quick escape to freedom.

The stomach bounced heavily in sync with the run, and the backpack, now carrying the bottle and cheese, thumped painfully against the back. Yet, these minor discomforts were oddly pleasant—now, at least until tomorrow, everything else could be set aside.

Beautiful.

Moe sprinted through the back door and emerged into the damp darkness of the street, carrying a faint odor of garbage bins. A backyard didn’t present a glamorous façade like the front, truthfully exuding scents from the underbelly of a dazzling life- the perspiration of labor, decomposing remnants within loosely tied trash bags, and the pungent ammonia-tinged aroma of urea. Moe crinkled his nose at the mixture of scents and made his way toward the yard's exit, where a guard with a walkie-talkie stood, offering a parting acknowledgment.

“Hey, Bill, see you, Bill.”

“I'm not Bill,” the guard straightened up in surprise, blinked, attempting to discern if he recognized the man, and Moe shrugged his shoulders- Bill or not, what's the difference, and continued on with a more purposeful stride toward the subway. Within the hotel premises, the pilfered items were urging him to distance himself from the scene.

Suddenly, a car that Moe hadn't noticed, parked along the side of the road with its engine running and rumbling quietly, honked its horn and flashed its headlights. Moe jumped up in surprise and cursed - why the fuck would you scare me like that! He threw out his middle finger and increased his pace in the right direction, the rhythm of his blood flow accelerated by the scare, glancing at the car out of the corner of his eye. As the car approached him, Einar called out to him from the window, “Do you need a ride?”

“No, my wheels haven't fallen off yet,” Moe, irritated by the unexpected chase, twitched, easing up - thankfully, there was no real danger. The tension dissipated instantly, his knees loosened, and he felt the strain from the long hours spent on his feet.

“Come on, Mickey, you look exhausted,” Einar stepped out of the parked car, caught up with him, and examined his face. “Are you carrying a whole house in your back? Planning a hiking trip? Let's go.”

“Look, dude, what do you want from me?” Moe halted, letting out a tired sigh. “Ditch the whole love-at-first-sight thing, okay? Trust me, there are tons of people way hotter than me out there. Right now, I just need some chill time with my phone, a bottle of wine, maybe a good cry, and then zonk out. Dealing with charming guys isn't on my agenda.”

“You can drink wine and unwind with your phone at my place," Einar smiled serenely, as if the previous irritation hadn't affected him. “Perhaps you'll have other ideas during the process,” he gently caressed Moe's cheek with his fingers, subtly implying his intentions. The gesture carried a tender and soothing vibe, making Moe pause and contemplate. “Well-”

“Let's go,” Einar, seizing the moment, hooked his elbow with Moe's and guided him towards the car. Moe, conceding defeat, trailed along, "I guess hitting the town is off, silk sheets await us."

In the car, Einar remained composed and unruffled. Moe even questioned whether a flicker of mutual interest had occurred, but he dismissed the thought. If the golden boy was truthful, a tranquil night in a clean and comfortable place was guaranteed. Equally nonchalant, Einar led the way to the apartment in the upscale high-rise, accompanied by a ring of bodyguards. They glided through the foyer, took the elevator up, and strolled through the lavish apartment to the guest bedroom. Einar gestured towards the bathroom with gentlemanly flair and exited. Moe, feeling somewhat rattled and tense under the watchful eyes of the bodyguards, who made it clear that they wouldn't tolerate any pranks or mischief, entered the bathroom with a slight sense of confusion. However, upon seeing the spa-like setup, he grinned happily.

The unpleasant vibe from the bodyguards dissipated as endorphins flooded in. Moe purred, turning on the water in the bathtub. With care, he picked out the most appealing scents from a variety of luxurious bath foams and salts, generously adding them to the tub. As he undressed, a shiver of anticipation ran through him; this indulgence would be etched in his memory. Placing his watch in the most visible spot—on the hanging pull-out mirror—he stepped into the shower cubicle.

He eyed the bathtub eagerly, grabbed a fresh luffa with the scent of the Dead Sea, lathered himself thoroughly, and stepped in to luxuriate, lathering his hair and purring in delight. By the time the tub was filled, Moe had exfoliated his skin three times over, applied a hair mask, scrubbed his heels, and, feeling utterly clean, immersed himself into the hot, fragrant paradise, letting out a loud moan of satisfaction.

“Did you decide to drown yourself?” Einar entered the bathroom without bothering to knock, clad in a gray silk robe, and grinned as Moe, without uttering a word, languidly gestured over his frothy domain - only a complete idiot would want to drown in such a luxurious setting. “I get it, enjoy. What about the wine? I recall it was part of your plan.”

“Sure " Moe responded graciously, adjusting his posture on the dissolving salts. “White, please, with the bouquet and harvest of your preference.”

“Very well, sir,” Einar replied with a laugh, disappearing and returning with glasses of white wine, offering one to Moe.

The combination of chilled, fine tart wine and the warmth of the bath was exquisitely intoxicating, euphoric, and delightful. Moe deeply inhaled the aromatic blend, indulging in his love for luxury. Einar, sitting beside him on a rattan pouf, dipped his fingers into the water, gazing at Moe's face with curiosity, wondering if tears were present. He gently plucked a wet strand from Moe's cheek and planted an almost platonic kiss, suggesting softly, “Perhaps you'll consider a modification to the plan?”

“Perhaps I will," Moe grinned mischievously, his satiated form open to the idea of some bedtime amusement. Rising and stretching, he showed his lengthy, slender physique, sun-kissed only where the clothes typically end.

“You remind me of Roman marble statues," commented Einar, assisting him out of the tub and draping a towel over his shoulders.

“Just as well-sculpted?" Moe squinted in disbelief, and Einar chuckled.

“The untanned portion of your body resembles an ancient statue with missing limbs," Einar teased, flicking Moe on the nose. “No need to pout; you asked, and I answered. You don't strike me as someone fishing for compliments.”

“I wasn't trying to be all about the whole dismemberment vibe either," Moe remarked, drying himself off and feeling a bit puzzled. He had been fed, had a drink, and now he was about to be fucked, but the passion or attraction seemed lacking. What was Einar's motive behind this questionable adventure?”

He strapped his watch onto his wrist, entered the bedroom, dropped the towel on the floor, sprawled on the bed, wrapped himself in the blanket, and let out a yawn. Einar's approach lacked any sex appeal; in fact, it was quite the opposite. Hoping Einar might reconsider, Moe shut his eyelids, only to receive a gentle kiss. The blanket was thrown away, the robe met the same fate as the towel, and Einar's body, cool from the contrast of the hot bath, pressed against Moe, pinning him to the bed.

“You sure?” Moe arched an eyebrow in skepticism, lazily opening one eye, providing Einar an opportunity to pull back. Instead of responding, Einar rubbed against him, proudly displaying a pretty hard boner. “Well, you don't seem particularly eager for it either.”

“You think you've got me all figured out?” Einar planted kisses on his cheek, neck, and jugular, licked Moe’s collarbone, his tongue tracing down to Moe's nipple, eliciting warm sensations throughout his body. He delicately squeezed Moe's stiffening cock. ‘Should I grab some lube?”

“Yes,” Moe blinked in surprise—this was an odd question, given that Einar could tell from the lack of scent that he was a beta.