Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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Brett hadn't been back in the country for a while — the life of a soloist came with months of being on the road, living on room service in countless hotels and marking the passage of time through bookings. Practices and rehearsals. Sound checks. Playing in front of the same old crowd. Perfunctory socialising afterwards, where he drank expensive champagne and pretended to give a shit about the conversations happening around him. Sometimes, if he's in the mood for it, he'd find an attractive thing to tumble into bed with. Never a fan though; that's just messy and the kind of publicity he didn't need. Ideally: they would fuck, say goodbye the next morning (wham bam thank you, maams and sirs) and then it's just a matter of rinse and repeat. 

Sometimes he thought about a much younger Brett Yang, whose dream was to become a soloist.

He wondered if that Brett Yang would've been happy with the kind of life he's living.

"Bretty!"

The loud, exuberant voice brought Ray Chen into his immediate proximity. Taller, wider and more muscular (Brett refused to nock in 'more good-looking' to that tally — fuck Ray Chen for winning the lottery in the genetics pool, really), the other man wrapped him in a too-tight hug, before releasing him after ten seconds of what felt like sexual harassment. Brett had to re-adjust his glasses and take a half-step back to preemptively stop anymore physical mauling. Ray's perfectly-groomed and dressed like he'd just walked out of GQ — expensive knitwear, pressed slacks, polished brogues. The whole nine yards of casual chic. 

Brett, coming back from a quick trip to his favourite boba tea joint in his old university sweater and ripped jeans, felt criminally underdressed. 

"The hell are you doing here, Ray?" he asked, scraping back hair from his forehead with his free hand. The other was weighed down by three takeaway cups of boba tea — they were all his. There's nothing wrong with drinking three cups of boba tea by his lonesome at seven in the evening because what else was he supposed to do when he's too busy staring blankly at the haphazard music sheets littering his apartment. He'd been having trouble composing, alright? It happened to every musician. Well. Maybe not Hilary Hahn, but Hilary Hahn wasn't exactly human so she's an exception. "I thought you're in France?"

Ray shrugged, looking like the whole jet-setting around the world lifestyle didn't faze him one bit. Brett knew that the other soloist had just completed his second world tour (a couple more countries than Brett's last tour, not that it's a competition or anything). Usually, Brett would burrow himself at home for at least a week to re-acclimitise, but Ray didn't seem to have that problem. Lucky bastard. "Only here for a couple of days. Had a meeting for a sponsorship deal and I'm heading over to a concert—" He paused. Brett felt a sudden premonition of doom when Ray grinned widely at him. "—You should come too!"

Brett clutched his boba teas tighter. "Nah. Nah, I'm gonna pass—"

"C'mon! It'd be fun! It's not like you've got anything better to do, mate." Brett would very much like to point out that he had shitload of things to do, like drinking an unhealthy amount of boba tea. And pretending to work on new music while dealing with crippling boredom. Ray checked his watch and went on, like a runaway train, "Concert doesn't start for the next two hours. You've got plenty of time to get ready."

Brett sighed. It's like trying to argue with a brick wall. "You're buying me dinner afterwards."

The grin he got in return was obnoxiously bright and Brett almost stumbled forward when Ray thumped his back. "That's the spirit!"

Yeah, right.

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The Queensland Conservatorium was a nostalgic place. Brett had his debut here with the local orchestra and he still remembered the hours he spent practising his Tchaikovsky, did good enough to launch his career afterwards. He's recognised as soon as he arrived, signed a few autographs and took a few pictures with the fans. Classical musicians weren't exactly popular outside of their own circle, wasn't as if they were pop stars. It still felt good to be recognised though, even more so when some of them mentioned how much they loved his last album. Maybe that'd help kick his ass into gear to work on his half-mangled compositions later. Once the fans cleared off, Brett saw Ray talking to an older couple at the entrance, who shook his hand and proclaimed that they had attended a few of his recitals before.

Brett made some obligatory gratified noises and they ambled off. 

"You made it!" Ray slung an arm around Brett's shoulder, looking far too happy for his own good. "Thought you're gonna bail on me."

"I'm only here for the hot pot," Brett deadpanned. He shrugged off Ray's hand and scrunched his nose. "Who's playing tonight?"

"Satu Vänskä." At Brett's wide-eyed surprise, Ray laughed. "Yeah, this isn't one of her usual programs. We met two months ago when I did that concert with ACO and she said she's doing this as a favour to a friend or something. Invited me to play with, but I couldn't make it. Got lucky to catch this last night though." Ray's grin widened. "You're gonna enjoy it, Bretty."

Brett didn't even bother to argue that point. Satu was as accomplished a soloist and principal violinist as one could be, and he held immense respect for her works. Doubtful he'd find anything to complain about tonight so perhaps this wasn't such a bad idea after all. They were shown to their seats and settled in soon after, exchanging pleasantries with those in adjacent seats who recognised them. They ceased talking when the concertmaster went onstage and the usual preparation took place — Brett did notice Ray surreptitiously taking a picture then, although he had no idea why. 

It was just of the concertmaster, taking his place at the front of the string section.

That's when he noticed how young the concertmaster really was.

Brett didn't get the chance to wonder for long, since the conductor was already taking his place on the podium. Satu came out after, gracing the audience with a beatific smile that segued into a short speech about the importance of encouraging the younger generation to get into classical music and to make it more accessible for them as well. It wasn't something Brett hadn't heard before. His eyes kept straying back to the concertmaster, for reasons he couldn't quite figure out. It's not as if the concertmaster was particularly striking, but there's something about the way he held himself, the quiet intensity in his dark eyes that Brett could recognise all the way from the front row. 

Satu was winding down her speech when the concertmaster turned his face towards the audience. A smile flickered across that youthful face, startlingly sweet and shy, and Brett could've sworn the concertmaster was looking at his direction right then and there. He heard Ray's quiet chuckle, but was much too distracted to care as he watched the concertmaster returning to full attention once Satu handed the microphone over to a stagehand. It's a testament to his professional prowess that he managed to concentrate on Satu for the entire hour and a half when all he wanted to do was keep his eyes on the concertmaster. Brett joined in the applause at the end and rose along with Ray to offer their congratulations to Satu.

He lost sight of the concertmaster when leaving for the dressing room and made a mental note to ask his colleague in the conservatorium about him. 

He didn't need the distraction, but something else to do while he's back in Australia? Perhaps.

Ray herded him towards Satu and they chatted for a while, exchanging news about albums and concerts and tours. She couldn't join them for dinner, but promised to catch up soon. Brett was starving by the time they stepped out, buttoning up his coat as Ray looked around, as if searching for someone.

Brett didn't get the chance to ask when he heard a distinctive "Ray!" coming from behind.

And saw the concertmaster jogging towards them, cheeks pink from the cold and a smile on his face. Brett didn't know what kind of expression he wore on his own face, but the concertmaster glanced at him and seemed to look taken aback. It didn't last for more than a second though; Ray gathered him in a hug that felt inappropriately long. Like, crossing into public indecency kind of long. Brett felt a lot left out, to be honest. 

"Brett, this is Eddy Chen," Ray said, once they parted. Brett didn't miss the familiar way Ray's arm wound around the concertmaster's waist and was blindsided by the sudden ripple of jealousy in his veins. "You know who he is already, Ed."

"Of course." Eddy held out a hand that Brett grasped. Their handshake was perfunctory and ended way too soon, but Eddy's smile was warm and becoming, almost shy again. "I'm a big fan of yours, Mr Yang."

Brett's mouth curled into a pleased grin and he shook his head, waving aside the formalities. "Just 'Brett' is fine. It's nice to meet you." To Ray, he raised an eyebrow. "Is this the Chen family reunion or something?"

"Nah, we're not related," Ray laughed, eyes crinkling. He bumped Eddy's shoulder gently and started laughing again when Eddy rolled his eyes. "It'd be weird if we are."

Brett wanted to ask why, why the hell would it be weird. And why did Ray still had his arm around Eddy, propriety-like. Instead, he shoved those questions down and said, "You should join us for dinner, Eddy. Ray's buying."

"Sure." Eddy nudged at Ray, giving him a side-way glance and a slanted smile. "Unless you're getting rid of me?"

Ray’s smile softened. "Not a chance."

Brett didn't understand the look those two shared, but it made him itch with the demand to know.  

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tbc

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Chapter Text

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“You wanna come over?”

Brett paused mid-motion, fingers still threading the button of his coat through its hole. He raised an eyebrow at Ray. “What?”

The older man nodded, grin slanting wider. “My place, get this party going?”

It’s hardly a party when there were only three of them and Eddy was already looking pretty flushed from that lone glass of beer he’d nursed throughout dinner, so Brett doubted that the kid could ingest anymore alcohol without actually getting drunk in the process. He found it pretty fucking adorable that Eddy’s a lightweight, although he kept that particular revelation to himself. Eddy had seemed reticent at first, preferring to listen as Ray and Brett exchanged stories about funny shit that happened during their tours. He chipped in with a few questions when they talked about the pieces they’re working on, looking genuinely curious and appreciative.

Brett figured that it’s not often for a local university student to be in the presence of two world-class soloists at the same time and Eddy’s just capitalising on the occasion.

Which brought him to the crux of the matter: why was Eddy there?

Ray, despite his penchant for oversharing in the past, didn’t offer any explanation. And the way he treated Eddy: the constant touches, the looks they exchanged – those two were not mere acquaintances. And if Eddy was a close friend of Ray’s, Brett would’ve known. They basically shared the same circle of friends. He didn’t want to admit it, but it’s driving him crazy trying to work out the nature of their relationship.

If he were a meme, he’d be that lady surrounded by mathematical equations.

Confused as all fucks.

Brett should refuse. It’s late and he actually needed to continue working on his compositions after the night’s distraction. His brain was already creating a PowerPoint presentation on Why I Should Get My Ass Home Right The Hell Now, but other parts of his anatomy disagreed. Especially his mouth, because he could hear himself saying, “Yeah, why not.”

He couldn’t read Eddy’s expression and that’s probably for the best.

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Ray’s version of a party apparently involved offering Brett something from his liquor cabinet and kept refilling their glasses as the night wore on. Except for Eddy’s, who had gone into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water with all the familiarity of someone who’d been at Ray’s place countless of times before. He sat at the opposite end of the couch from Ray, while Brett found an armchair to occupy as they continued their conversation from the restaurant. At one point in the night, Ray had somehow managed to persuade Eddy to play Mendelssohn for them. It wasn’t the most polished performance, not even close, but Brett had been entranced. He watched the dance of Eddy’s fingers over the strings, the way he closed his eyes and swayed to the music. 

It ended far too quickly and Brett joined in Ray’s raucous applause, as Eddy placed his violin back into its case with an embarrassed tilt to his smile.

But when Ray reached out and grabbed Eddy’s forearm, pulling the younger man into his lap, Brett felt like the world had tilted sideways without any warning. He caught Eddy’s eyes flickering towards him, the dark flush that’s rising up to his cheeks, but Ray didn’t seem to care. His hands slid underneath Eddy’s thighs, manhandling him into place.

The room was suddenly a lot warmer than it had been seconds ago.  

Brett swallowed thickly. He’s already half-raised from where he’s sitting, feeling very very conscious about the thickening of his cock pressing against the seams of his pants. “I should leave—”

“Nah, c’mon.” Ray pressed a kiss to the side of Eddy’s neck, trailing to his ear and Brett could hear him murmur, “Okay if Brett stays?”

Eddy’s dark eyes flicked to Brett again, before he looked away. He’d turned even redder and Brett thought he looked too pretty to be real. Eddy wetted his lips, like he’s nervous but didn’t want to show it. There’s also something else in the flutter of his eyelashes and Brett had no goddamn clue what any of that meant. He watched Eddy slowly nod, once twice, and the curl of Ray’s smile hitched sharper.

Brett could feel the air vacating his lungs in one sharp exhale as he sank back into the armchair.

“Good boy,” Ray purred; the compliment was meant for Eddy and it made the younger man shudder. “You’re being so good for us right now.”

Ray glanced at Brett and Brett didn’t know how to respond to the hint of conspiracy he saw in Ray’s eyes. Like they’re sharing a secret. Brett was still lost, but he wasn’t about to stop whatever’s going on to ask. Not when Ray’s lifting the hem of Eddy’s t-shirt and peeling it off of his body. Eddy went with it, lifted his arms up over his head obediently and Brett found himself leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Mouth dry and heart trying to crawl its way out of his throat. Eddy was slenderer than the bulk of his clothes suggested, looked even smaller against Ray’s more muscular build and Brett itched to touch.

Wanted to run his hands over that expanse of milky-white skin, learn every single inch of him.

Brett just wanted, so much more than he’d ever had before.

Ray tossed the shirt to the side and kissed Eddy slowly, indulgently. Brett let out a shuddering breath, couldn’t help it. It’s a private floorshow and it’s being put on just for him. His heart pounded in time to the pulse of blood to his cock and his eyes traced the corded lines of Eddy’s neck, the ripples of skin as he’s twisted and turned this way and that by Ray’s hands.

“Don’t you think you’re being selfish?” Ray rubbed a thumb over the line of Eddy’s jaw, nudging his face towards Brett. Who wasn’t prepared to be at the receiving end of Eddy’s glazed, half-lidded stare. “Go on, let him have a taste.”

Eddy slid off the couch and started towards Brett, swaying a little bit as if he was being pulled sideways by unseen hands. He’d only gone two steps when Ray said, “On your knees, baby.”

This was getting straight up pornographic, but Brett wasn’t about to complain. Not when he had the best seat in the house right now. Eddy dropped to all four as if he’s a marionette with his strings cut off and started crawling towards Brett. The shifting of his spine underneath paperthin skin kept Brett transfixed, so much so that it felt only seconds before Eddy had arrived in front of him, looking up at Brett through the dark fringe of his long eyelashes.

Brett stared at him, wasn’t sure what to do at first and afraid that if he touched Eddy, he would wake up and realise this was all a dream. He reached out to card his fingers through Eddy’s hair and when Eddy didn’t disappear, he spread his legs so the younger man could fit in between them. Eddy leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering close and mouth slightly parted. It’s more than enough invitation to make Brett dip his head, pressing his mouth to Eddy’s. The kiss started soft, but didn’t stay that way for long. Eddy made a quiet, hitched noise when Brett pried open his mouth, sliding his tongue next to his. One of his hands came up to curve over the back of Eddy’s head, holding him in place as Brett turned the kiss downright filthy. Wet and deep and hungry.

He broke the kiss but drew it out, pulling and dragging at Eddy’s lips with his teeth, until Eddy’s mouth was soft and swollen and dark, and he’s panting against Brett.

“Please, Mr Yang—” Brett didn’t bother to correct him this time; he’s too busy looking at where Eddy’s fingers were working at his belt. They’re long and pretty and well-manicured, and Brett wondered what they would feel like, digging into his skin as he fucked Eddy raw. He ran his fingers through Eddy’s hair again, scratching at the scalp, and got a stuttered, “May I?” in return.

Eddy looked at him with such reverence that it knocked whatever breath left inside his chest right out.

Brett spread his thighs wider and nodded.

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Brett’s watching a woman cross the street, honey-brown hair whipping behind her as she tried to make the green light at the other side, when Ray joined him on the balcony. Ray’s already dressed in t-shirt and grey sweatpants, didn’t look like someone who’d just rolled out of bed.  

Brett, on the other hand, felt like the physical embodiment of a crumpled toilet paper.

“You good?”

There’s no real way to answer that question without being completely transparent about his feelings (which was the last thing he wanted to do), so Brett simply cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at Ray.

The other soloist let loose a bark of laughter. He didn’t look at Brett when he said, “I’m gonna propose to Alyssa next month.”

That wasn’t something Brett had expected to hear after everything that happened last night. He knew Alyssa well enough – Ray’s long-time girlfriend, who had been as brilliant at the piano as she was at her current day job as the ADA. She’d accompanied him during his earlier recitals and they still kept in touch, went out for dinner once in a while if both of their schedules permitted. “Didn’t think she’s gonna settle for you, but wow. Congrats, man.”

“Fuck off,” Ray said laughingly and nudged Brett’s elbow with his own. “Congratulate me later if she agrees. There’s still a 50/50 chance she’s gonna leave me for Hugh Jackman.”

Brett snorted. “Jackman’s married.”

“Yeah, try telling her that.” There’s a heavy pause, before Ray continued, “She knows about Eddy, of course.” Brett slammed his mouth shut. He didn’t ask why the fuck Alyssa would allow Ray to keep a boyfriend at the side when other women would’ve balked because it's none of his business. He wasn’t one to judge. Maybe they enjoyed the occasional threesomes. Hell, Brett did, just hours ago. “When I told Eddy about getting married, he decided to end our… arrangement.”

Arrangement? What fucking arrangement? Brett’s still lost and he’s starting to think he should’ve asked before he flung himself into the deep ends. He could always blame his current predicament on Eddy being too pretty to resist, but he knew better. He’d wanted it, badly. “Why?”

Ray shrugged. He might’ve wanted to come across as unperturbed, but Brett could see through him. Ray was unhappy with it, probably wasn’t ready to let Eddy go. After a night with the younger man, Brett could maybe sympathise. “He needs someone to look after him and I think… I think you can do that.”

Say what now. Brett waited for the punchline, but Ray just continued to stare at him. Expectantly. He tried for a joke, “What are you? His pimp?”

Ray frowned, somewhat affronted. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s not a hooker.”

Could’ve fooled him with how good Eddy was at sucking cock. Brett scraped a hand through his hair and decided to just set this straight. All this beating about the bush’s starting to give him anxiety. “Look. What are you asking me to do here?”

Ray’s smile faltered. “Might as well give you some backstory, eh?”

Brett shot him a look that loudly said you fucking think, mate?

“Around a year ago, I met Eddy through a—” Ray scrunched his nose, looking a little bit embarrassed, “—sugar baby site. Supposed to be fucking joke – Josh signed me up because I cling-wrapped his toilet bowl last time, that motherfucker. Next thing I know, I got this email about a meeting with someone they matched me with.”

Brett’s mouth opened. Then he closed it. And eventually said, “And you went?”

“Sure did. Wanted to let him down easy, tell him it’s just a prank. Know where I met him the first time? That hotpot restaurant we went to. Eddy said it’s the closest to uni and he had practice after.” That surprised a laugh out of Brett. It sounded so painfully relatable and he could imagine Eddy running off after dinner, chasing after any extra hour of practice he could shove into a day. “We got to talking and he’s a brilliant kid, y’know? Kinda shy and awkward, but the more we talk, the more I like him. I was the first match he decided to meet face-to-face. Real sweet, yeah? So I figured if he really needs someone to help him, might as well be me.”

Brett’s trying to process all the information he’s being fed and his brain might be glitching right now. “You’re his… sugar daddy?”

Ray grimaced. “Patron. I prefer the term ‘patron’. It’s more dignified.”

“Dude, you met him through a sugar baby website. There’s nothing fucking dignified about that.” Brett’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He felt like someone had just dropped an anvil into the pit of his stomach. “Why did he sign up? To be a sugar baby?”

Ray’s expression shuttered into deliberate indifference. “You’re gonna have to ask him yourself. It’s not my story to tell.”

“I don’t know if you’ve thought this through—”

“Brett.” Brett hadn’t seen Ray look this serious when it came to anything that wasn’t music and he closed his mouth, the protest dying at the tip of his tongue. Ray leaned on his elbow, body turned towards Brett. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Fuck.

“Eddy likes you, wouldn’t have let you stay if he doesn’t. I wouldn’t have asked.” Ray exhaled slowly. His fingers drummed a nervous staccato against the railing and Brett realised this wasn’t easy for him. “Just— Take him out for lunch today. Talk to him and you can decide if you wanna do it or not. It’s not like you spend your money on anything else.”

Brett chewed on his lower lip. He could deal with calculated risks, but this smelled like bad business. Before last night, nothing in his future itinerary involved taking over the duties of a soon-to-be-married sugar daddy and he still thought it’s a terrible idea through and through. Even if a sibilant voice inside his head pointed out that Ray was right. Financially speaking, Brett could afford the extra expenditure. He wasn’t the type to have expensive hobbies, aside from drinking an unhealthy amount of boba tea, and keeping Eddy wouldn’t be breaking bank.

His traitorous brain chose that very moment to supply him with the mental image of Eddy on his knees, looking up at Brett with those large, dark eyes. Kiss-bruised lips parted around the breathless syllable of Brett’s name and it’s something he could’ve had always. Not just this once.

So, okay. Yeah. He’s fucked. Not completely sold on the idea, but he knew he couldn’t outright reject it.

“Lunch.” Brett had to stop himself from shoving Ray off the balcony at the sight of the older man’s triumphant grin. God, he fucking hated Ray Chen sometimes. “And then I’ll think about it.”

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tbc

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Chapter Text

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After their little chat on the balcony, Ray left Brett alone to stew in his muddled thoughts. Or he’d possibly sensed Brett’s homicidal intention and decided to leg it before anything untoward could happen. Unfortunate. Left to the silence of his own company, Brett took some time contemplating the choices he made that brought him to this particular moment. He couldn’t say he regretted them – he met Eddy, didn’t he? And he’d enjoyed the night they spent together (Ray’s presence notwithstanding). It’s been a while since he felt this physically attracted to anyone, so much so that he’s seriously considering just accepting Ray’s proposal right then and there.

Brett thought about the sweet noises Eddy made when Brett was inside him and had to firmly tell his eager dick to calm the fuck down.

It didn’t work, not really.

He came back into the apartment to the sound of quiet conversation drifting out from the bedroom. The door was ajar and he saw Ray sitting next to Eddy on the edge of the bed, saying something Brett couldn’t catch. Eddy was only in his boxers, baring miles of milky skin that’s tinted a light rose-gold from sunlight spilling in through the opened windows. He looked even younger in the morning after, even more fragile. His head was downcast, eyes hidden behind the fringe of his messy hair as he listened to Ray and Brett wondered what he’s thinking. If he even knew about Ray’s plan to transfer his sugar daddy-ship over to Brett, if that was even a thing.

The logistics of such relationship made no sense whatsoever to Brett, but he would leave figuring that shit out for later.

When he’s more awake. And sober.

Ray’s kitchen didn’t have much to offer, but at least Brett knew how to operate the coffee machine. He’s on his second cup when Ray finally emerged from the bedroom, the crease between his eyebrows smoothing out when he saw Brett. He didn’t look particularly happy and Brett’s mind meandered back to the sight he’d seen inside the bedroom.

Maybe Eddy didn’t want Brett to be his sugar daddy.

Maybe this was a fucked up idea from the very beginning and he shouldn’t have even entertained it in the first place.

He took another sip of coffee, felt it sear the inside of his throat and grimaced. He needed to get out of here, pronto. “I should head home.”

Ray poured himself some coffee and leaned against the counter, watching Brett with that same calculating look he’d worn the night before. “We’re still on for lunch, right? Tai Tai, around one?”

Brett’s eyes flicked to the closed bedroom door.

His stomach churned.

“Sounds good.”

.

Brett typed ‘what do sugar daddies do’ into Google and felt like a teenager all over again, looking at porn videos in his childhood bedroom and worrying about being caught with a hand in his pants by his parents. Only that they’re now on a cruise in Hawaii (the last time he checked), spending his hard-earned money, and he’s sequestered in the security of his own apartment, fresh out of shower with no one to judge his poor life choices. He scrolled through the links that popped up within mili-seconds of him hitting ‘enter’ and wanted very much to know why there were people asking the same question.

And did they have a support group for those in this very awkward considering-to-be-a-sugar-daddy-but-still-convinced-this-was-a-fucking-horrendous-idea position?

He hazarded a click on one of the websites and leaned back into his couch in preparation to be educated.

Fifteen minutes later, Brett tossed his phone to the side and took off his glasses to scrub a hand over his face. Everything was surprisingly mild and above board – not as kinky as he’d imagined. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. The general consensus was that it’s a no-string attached kind of relationship, almost like friends with benefits except for the monetary aspect involved. And while sexual favours weren’t compulsory, it’s sort of inevitable. He still wasn’t quite sure how he’s supposed to discuss any of this with Eddy and there’s the kicker, wasn’t it?

It’s not like he could just up and ask ‘so how much am I supposed to pay to enjoy your charming company and maybe perhaps bend you over my very messy desk later?’

Smooth. Real smooth.

He wasn’t known for his sweet-talking but that fell way low, even for his standard.

A manual would’ve been nice. Preferably with pictures.

Brett groaned and dragged his ass off the couch to get dressed when he realised that it’s closer to the agreed time of meeting than he would’ve liked. He threw on something semi-casual instead of his usual midday hobo getup, grabbed a scarf and made sure he didn’t look like he’s trying too hard to impress. Because that’s definitely not what he was doing. At all. To even suggest such a thing would be preposterous. If he changed his jacket three times and chose a newer pair of jeans, it’s only because he might run into some fans in the restaurant. If he’s going to end up on someone’s Instagram page, he should look presentable, less like roadkill. His manager would appreciate the effort, he’s sure of it.

After all, she’d more than once compared him to characters from zombie movies.

None of the living ones though.

Feeling a bout of hysterical giggles crawling up his throat at the thought of his manager finding out what’s he’s doing, Brett quickened his pace and rounded the corner to see the familiar façade of the local Asian haunt. Tai Tai was bright and lively, already half-full with the regular lunch crowd that only seemed to swell the longer Brett stood near the entrance. He’s trying to avoid making eye contact with the girl at the counter, who looked like she’s figuring out if he’s a paying customer or a creep darkening her doorstep. He had half a mind to make a u-turn, walk right back to his apartment and lock himself there for the entirety of the foreseeable future. Be driven slowly out of his mind over how dull and predictable his life was getting and wonder what would’ve happened if he went through with lunch.

If he talked to Eddy and then… maybe more.

It’s the agonising possibility of ‘more’ that propelled him forward, stepping into the restaurant before he could stop himself.

Immediately, Brett saw a wait staff heading towards him so he made a vague gesture that translated into ‘I’m with someone somewhere inside the bowel of your restaurant, give me a second to find them alright, buzz off’ and got lucky the first sweep through when he noticed Eddy sitting at one of the tables closer to the back. Eddy had his back to the entrance and looked to be in deep thought over the menu, and Brett made his way over. His stomach’s performing gymnastic manoeuvres and the way his heart’s pounding inside his chest could be attributed to either the early onset of a panic attack or a straight-up cardiac arrest.

As far as (sort of) first date went, this was shaping up to be an absolute killer.

“Hey.” Brett pulled out a chair and sat down, trying for nonchalance and only partly succeeding. He saw Eddy jerk a little, surprised at his sudden appearance, and it’s poor consolation to realise the kid’s probably even more nervous than he was. “Sorry for making you wait.”

Eddy shook his head, mouth curling into that same sweet smile Brett had seen during the concert. “It’s no big deal. I’m usually the one who’s late, so this is a nice change.”

Brett laughed, the tension along his shoulders easing up as he stared at Eddy, whose hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. He’s also in fresh t-shirt and jeans, and Brett’s blindsided by the unpleasant twinge at the thought of Eddy staying in Ray’s place often enough to have his own clothes there. He realised then that he knew next to nothing about Eddy – how old he was, where he lived, how long he’d been doing this.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask, wasn’t sure how to ask them.

So he started with the most obvious one. “Where’s Ray?”

“He said he has an appointment.” Eddy hesitated and the smile faltered on his face. “We can do this later, if you want him to be here—”

“Nah!” Brett reached out without thinking, patting Eddy’s forearm to make him stay. He said, with a confidence he didn’t actually feel, “No, this is okay. It’s better if we get to talk, just the two of us.”

Eddy nodded, but still looked unconvinced. “O…kay.”

The silence that followed bordered on being awkward, stretching too thin around the real reason why they were there. Brett was thankful when his coffee order arrived so he had something to fiddle with until his mouth decided to dig him a deeper hole.  

“Ray told me how you two met.”

The flinch was minuscule, but Brett caught it all the same. Eddy’s smile had turned wry, somewhat self-deprecating, and he was starting to pick on his fingers. “I wasn’t expecting the real Ray Chen to show up, you know? But Oliver said—” he flustered for a half-second, backtracking, “—he’s my friend from the conservatory— so he said it might be fun to see who’s pretending to be Ray. Bit of a laugh.”

Brett could just imagine Eddy’s surprise when the real thing arrived for their first meeting. “And then he actually showed up.”

“Yeah.” Eddy shrugged, his cheeks colouring slightly. “He’s— very nice. I didn’t— I wasn’t expecting him to agree with the—” The colour sat higher on Eddy’s cheekbones, darkening. He’s also resolutely avoiding Brett’s eyes. “It’s just very unexpected.” A pause. “He’s nice.”

“You’ve mentioned,” Brett pointed out, absolutely not jealous at all of the way Eddy spoke about Ray. As long as the younger man didn’t start comparing dick sizes, it’s all good. He caught the girl at a nearby table looking at him, recognition in her wide-eyed gaze, and okay, this might not be the most conducive place for a private discussion. Especially one with such risqué implication. Brett cleared his throat and took another sip of his cooling coffee. “We’ll get takeout, yeah? Continue this at my place?”

Eddy’s fingers tightened around his cup. It took him a few seconds to eventually say, voice pitched low, “You don’t have to.”

Brett blinked. “What?”

“If you don’t want to, you can tell me right now.” His brows were furrowed, grim determination in the set of his jaw. “I can handle a rejection, Mr Yang. Had a lot of practice in the past, so you don’t have to waste any more of your time on me.”

It took a few moments for Brett’s brain to process what had just been said, so he couldn’t be blamed for the incredulity he expressed when he asked, “You think I’m here to— to turn you down?”

Eddy’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Brett folded his hands on the table. He didn’t know if it’s Eddy’s (misguided) conviction that he’s about to get the boot or if it’s the whole ‘Mr Yang’ business, but it brought about a sudden surge of clarity. Like a sliver of clear, obnoxiously blue sky after a rainstorm. “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? I wouldn’t even be here if I’m not considering this seriously.”

Eddy’s expression shifted, flickering into uncertainty. “But—”

“Later.” Brett said, in a voice that brooked no argument. He raised a hand to catch the attention of the wait staff and reached for the menu. “We should get the kung pao chicken, been wanting to try that. Some dumplings too.” He quirked his eyebrows at Eddy, who looked more than just a little bit bewildered. “You okay with prawns?”

.

Brett’s pretty sure they had enough Chinese food to feed a small family of five; someone really should’ve stopped him when he ordered that extra serving of fried rice but he was riding high on endorphin or something and went the extra mile. He heard the shuffle of plastic bags behind him, half of the aforementioned takeout in Eddy’s hands, and concentrated on unlocking the door to his apartment before he started to second-guess himself again. The lock relented after some jiggling and he stepped inside, toeing off his shoes and flipping on lights. He headed for the kitchen, dumping his share of plastic bags on the counter and didn’t have to look to know Eddy’s following his lead.

“Drinks?” Brett opened his fridge, nose wrinkling at the lack of anything inside it. He needed to go shopping soon. Glancing over his shoulder to where Eddy’s taking out food from the bags, he said, “I have water… and water.”

“Water’s great.” There’s a hint of a smile there, but not for long. Eddy licked his lip, nervous still, before asking, “Did you… really mean what you said? Back in the restaurant?”

Brett was going to ask which one, but he figured he knew what Eddy was referring to. “Yeah.” Should probably think this through even more but fuck it. He’d worked hard all these years. Coloured inside the lines. He deserved his indulgences and if he wanted to indulge in a fucking sugar baby, then that’s his fucking business, ain’t it. “‘Course I did. Why? You changed your mind?”

Eddy’s immediate reaction was to blurt out a loud ‘No!”, which was then punctuated by an embarrassed groan that pulled laughter out of Brett. He grabbed several of the takeout containers and relocated to the living room, easier for the conversation. His coffee table was full of magazines and music scores, and he had to move them aside to make space for anything else. Would’ve tidied up a bit if he knew he’d be bringing company over, but perhaps it’s better for Eddy to see him in his natural habitat. None of that polished veneer he presented to the general public.

He plopped onto the couch and nodded expectantly at Eddy. “C’mon, tell me about yourself.”

“There’s nothing much to tell. I play the violin.” Mischief’s a good look on Eddy, a lot better than the uncertainty he wore earlier. He rounded the counter, leisurely. Almost teasingly slow as he made his way to Brett. “Hates cockroach and mushroom.”

Brett raised his eyebrows. “Mushroom? Really?”

“Mmhmm.” Eddy’s grin widened and he shrugged. “Childhood trauma.”

“Interesting,” Brett deadpanned. He wasn’t sure if he should ask further, but decided against it. That could wait for later. “What else?”

Eddy paused in his track, tilting his head as he studied Brett with those dark, intent eyes. It seemed as though he’s making his mind up about something, and Brett was entirely unprepared for Eddy to walk over and slip onto his knees in front of him, reminiscent of what he did the night before. Except that this was of his own volition and there’s no one else around, just the two of them. Brett sucked in a sharp breath just as Eddy lowered his head, beautifully subservient.

“I like being told what to do.” The words were murmured against the inside of Brett’s wrist, before Eddy placed a wet kiss to his pulse. And moved Brett’s hand to rest on the top of his head. Brett’s fingers curled into dark hair, instinctively tugging at it, and he watched with fascination as Eddy shudder, eyes fluttering half-closed. His lips were shiny from where he’d licked them and Brett so very badly wanted to kiss him again. “You don’t have to be gentle with me.”

But I want to, Brett thought. It’s startling and a bit desperate and he didn’t know what to do with that kind of epiphany. Easing his grip, he ran his hand through Eddy’s hair and coaxed Eddy to look at him. “What about you? What do you want?”

Eddy’s eyes went a few shades darker. He slowly climbed onto the couch, settling in Brett’s lap, with his knees on either side of Brett’s hip. Brett could feel the jackhammering of their hearts, pressed this close together, and moved his hands to Eddy’s ass. Pulling him even closer, grinding up hard just to hear Eddy groan and see him drop his head into the crook of Brett’s shoulder. He felt like a furnace, heating up even further when Eddy’s mouth brushed the shell of his ear. When he heard the whispered,

“I want to make you feel good.”

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tbc

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Chapter Text

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Eddy’s on his belly, in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, one corner of the pillow trapped loosely between his sleep-soft lips. His body's in an easy sprawl, edging into Brett’s space in the half-dark so that they’re touching. It’s been a while since he had someone else in his bed, someone who’d stayed the night and it’s— not unpleasant. Brett shifted to his side, eyes sweeping further down. Eddy’s thighs were moonlight pale and so was the dip of his back where his t-shirt had ridden up, and Brett couldn’t look away from that sliver of skin. He darted a glance at the clock on his bedside table – 5.32 am. Much too early for either of them to be awake.

Hesitating only slightly, Brett reached out and trailed fingertips over Eddy’s back. There wasn’t any reaction at first, so he went back and forth, nails grazing warm skin until he felt Eddy beginning to squirm.

Brett accidentally dug his fingers deeper and was almost elbowed in the face.

“No— Stop—!” Eddy’s suddenly wide awake and his high-pitched shrieking went off into something that sounded like hahahaaksdfjndgsfds. He jerked away from Brett’s hand, tangling himself in the blanket and almost falling off the bed if not for Brett gripping his forearm to drag him back in time. His face was all red and scrunched, and he’s still trying to squirm away from Brett. “Don’t do that!”

Brett’s eyebrows hiked to his hairline. He might or might not have a shit-eating grin on his face because how cute. Propping himself up on an elbow, he peered at Eddy. “Are you ticklish?”

The smear of crimson on Eddy’s cheeks deepened and it travelled further down the skin covered by his t-shirt. Brett wanted to take if off of him, wanted to map its path with his hands and mouth and tongue, and he felt his cock stirring at the thought. Eddy shoved at him, none-too-gently, and pouted. “That’s not very nice.”

“Guess I’m not a nice person,” Brett deadpanned, rolling over on top of Eddy in one smooth move. Everything’s a bit blurry without his glasses, but he didn’t miss the hitch of Eddy’s breath. And the way he spread his legs to accommodate Brett, slotting their bodies together like they’re two pieces of the same puzzle. Bracing his elbows on either side of Eddy’s head and looking down at the sweetly-flushed face, he allowed a smirk to cut into his cheeks. “But you don’t mind that, do you?”

It’s not a question as much as it’s a statement. Brett didn’t wait for an answer before he leaned down to nose along the curve of Eddy’s jaw, revelling in the low moan he got in return. It made him smile and he pressed his mouth to the soft underside, before moving upwards to properly kiss Eddy. He slipped his tongue between the seams of his lips and ran it along Eddy’s, along the shape of his teeth with the intention to bruise his mouth dark and tender. The day’s just starting and Brett wanted Eddy to remember this hours later, when he’s away in classes or in practice or when he’s with anyone who wasn’t Brett. He kissed Eddy like how he wanted to fuck him – languorous and dirty and so fucking hungry for it.

Trailing his mouth to the side of Eddy’s neck, he found a patch of skin and sucked at it. He felt Eddy’s fingers digging into his shoulders, did nothing to push him away though, and he raised his head once he’s satisfied with his handiwork. Blood pooled underneath the papery thinness of Eddy’s skin, blossoming like flowers, and Brett was the one who put it there. A belligerent ‘Brett Yang was here’, in flesh and blood. He hoped others would see it and knew that Eddy was someone else’s (that Eddy was Brett’s, didn’t matter the fine prints). He skimmed his fingers over the delicate curl of Eddy’s ear at the top, where it met the soft skin of his cheek, smoothing his hair out of the way. When Eddy turned his face into Brett’s hand, he did it with a desperate whine spilling out of his kiss-bruised lips and hips rolling up to meet the hard line of Brett’s cock.

It’s enough of an invitation to send Brett’s blood rippling with want.

He shucked off his t-shirt and shorts, pulling at Eddy’s impatiently until they’re both pressed skin to skin. His hand scrabbled for the bottle of lube on the bedside table, knocking over whatever the fuck else in his way and he popped the cap open with his teeth. Squeezed out a fair amount and warmed the liquid between his hands; Brett liked to think that he was considerate like that. Eddy made noises like bones were breaking inside him when Brett fingered him open, throwing his head back and baring his throat, fingers shifting fretfully from where they’re curled around the headboard. Because Brett had told him to keep his hands there and Eddy was obedient, Eddy was good, Eddy was so so pretty when he cried out as Brett sank inside him. He’s hot and tight around Brett, and Brett had to take a moment to not come right away. Like a fucking teenager. Eddy’s chest heaved with every breath he took and his eyes were wet, like he’s holding back tears but barely.

Brett frowned, reaching up to brush his fingers over Eddy’s cheekbones. “Am I hurting you?”

There’s a half-second where Eddy just looked at him, uncomprehending. Like his brain had short-circuited the moment Brett’s cock split him open. Then he shook his head, mouth curling into a crooked smile. “S’good. Feels full.”

Hearing those words made his cock throb, made it that much more urgent for him to dig himself into Eddy. His hands were a bruising grip around Eddy’s hips and he eased out a bit, looking down at where they’re connected. Eddy writhed and groaned then, as if he couldn’t stand being empty, and Brett obliged. He fucked in sharply, picking up the pace and didn’t even think about dragging this out longer. They’re both breathing hard, the bed rocking underneath them and when Brett came, he did so with a scream sticking inside his throat. For a few, long instants, his head blanked out and he came back to see that Eddy was still hard, that he still had his hands where Brett told him to put them. 

Brett had to peel those fingers off the headboard before hauling Eddy up to straddle him. He sank down into Brett’s lap without protest. He’s shaking, pliant in Brett’s arms, and Brett had a sudden thought of telling him to go back to sleep, just to keep him like that.

“Do you wanna come?”

“Yes,” Eddy murmured, hands hanging limply at his side because Brett hadn’t said that touching was allowed. He sounded completely, beautifully wrecked and his dark eyelashes were spiky with tears.

Brett tilted his head and pretended to mull it over. “Think you deserve it?”

There’s a twitch to Eddy’s spit-slick lips, hesitation making him swallow and look away from Brett. His voice was soft around the syllables when he said, “Please—”

As if Brett could deny him anything, but Eddy didn’t need to know that. “Okay then. Since you begged so nicely.” Eddy exhaled, a quiet ‘thank you’ in between and his hand crept to his cock. Brett took Eddy by the chin and tipped his head up again, grinning at the startled look on Eddy’s face. “Nah, none of that. Look at me. You know what you’re doing.”

Brett expected a token protest, maybe another pout, but Eddy slowly nodded. Eyes half-lidded, liquid dark, and he’s fumbling, though Brett couldn’t tell if it’s because he couldn’t see or because his hands were shaking. When Eddy had his fingers around his cock, his eyes fluttered shut and he trembled all over, hips rocking into it and Brett realised he’s coming already. Too quickly, like he’d been strung out and all he needed was Brett’s permission to let go. Eddy pitched forward, pressing himself close and smearing the sticky mess into their skin. His face burrowed into Brett’s shoulder and Brett wrapped an arm around his waist until he stopped shaking.

He’s starting to wonder if Eddy had dozed off when the younger man mumbled against the side of his neck, “What’s for breakfast?”

Brett snorted at the incongruity of the question. They’re sticky and naked and he’s pretty sure that’s his come leaking out of Eddy’s ass, and they’re talking breakfast. “Leftovers.”

Eddy’s sigh was loud and theatrical. “I can’t believe you’re offering only leftovers after you’ve had your wicked ways with me.”

Brett swatted Eddy’s ass in retaliation, and laughed when the younger man yelped and was almost jostled out of Brett’s lap.

.

Brett found Eddy poking around the chicken chow mein when he walked out of the shower and despite any earlier complaints, he didn’t seem too put off by it. He’s in boxers and one of Brett’s t-shirts, Practice 40 Hours emblazoned across its front, and Brett couldn’t even remember where he’d bought it. Must be a relic from his university days, but he liked the way it looked on Eddy. Especially when he could see bruises crawling up the skin left uncovered by the shirt, all the marks Eddy would wear for days. Just the thought of Eddy feeling him made the room feel a couple degrees warmer, but they didn’t have time to start another round because unfortunately, Eddy had morning classes. Why anyone would subject themselves to that brand of torture, Brett would never be able understand. When he was in university, it’s a miracle for him to even make the afternoon classes. He only went because they counted attendance as part of the grades, when all he wanted to do was practise.

Tough times. Glad he’s old and grey now and didn’t have to worry about lecturers breathing down his neck. Or ridiculous classes that had nothing to do with violin performance.

Just thinking about it gave him war flashbacks.

Brett made a beeline for the fridge to grab a bottle of water and proceeded to park himself across the kitchen counter from Eddy.

“We need to talk.”

Eddy’s chopsticks hovered above the container for a second, before he balanced it precariously over the top. “I’ve heard that line a few times before and nothing good ever comes out of it.”

“Does sound like I’m breaking up with you, doesn’t it,” Brett mused, made no attempt to hide the teasing lilt from his voice. It did help to loosen the stiff line of Eddy’s shoulders ever so slightly, so he considered that a marginal win. Looking at Eddy square in the eye, Brett said, “I wanted to discuss our arrangement. Ray didn’t actually tell me— what I’m supposed to do. As your… benefactor.”

It’s a kinder term, definitely less sleazy than the alternative. It still made Eddy cringe though and Brett could sympathise, but he didn’t know a better way to broach the subject – being direct was his only option. Easier, since they both know the status quo. He watched the flicker of Eddy’s eyes, the way he’d started to pick at his fingers again. Brett’s picking up on his ticks, could tell he’s nervous even if there’s no reason to. It’s goddamn obvious Brett was more than happy to keep him around and if he didn’t get his wires crossed somewhere, he’s pretty sure the feeling’s mutual.

Now it’s time for them to work out the finer details.

Brett liked knowing what’s expected of him and if he’s being completely honest, he had the full intention of going above and beyond what Ray had done for Eddy.

Maybe it’s silly to be competitive over something so petty, but he didn’t give a fuck.

Eddy’s smile was a bit strained and brittle around the edges, a poor facsimile of the real thing. He’s trying to come across as nonchalant, Brett realised belatedly, but didn’t quite manage to do so. “I usually get… living expenses. An allowance for books.” He paused, faltering. If he didn’t stop picking at the skin around his nail, he would rip it off. “It would be nice if I can borrow your practice room once in a while, Mr. Yang.” That’s another red flag – when Eddy reverted back to calling him ‘Mr. Yang’, like they’re strangers. Brett’s forehead creased into a frown and Eddy must’ve mistaken the reason behind it, because he rushed to add, “You don’t have to, of course. I wouldn’t want to disturb—”

Brett cut him off before Eddy could get far. He levelled an incredulous look at the younger man. “That’s all?”

Eddy blinked, lips parting around a muted sound. He looked equal parts apprehensive and bewildered, and he’s recoiling away from Brett like he’d been punched in the guts.

A sigh slipped past Brett’s lips – he knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he didn’t anticipate the conversation to be this difficult. He ran a hand through his hair, no doubt messing it up even more, and took a moment to pick through the words he wanted to use. Frustration set his teeth on edge and it’s a fight to keep it from his expression, just so the younger man wouldn’t further misunderstand.

“Eddy,” Brett started, planting his elbows on the counter as he leaned forward. “When I said I’m serious about this, I meant it. You’re my responsibility as long as you agree to be in this— relationship. And I take care of what’s mine.” A shudder rippled through Eddy’s hunched figure and Brett allowed a grin to carve a jagged line across his face. “But there’s one thing you should know.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, voice dipping lower. “I don’t like sharing. If we’re doing this, I want you to promise that I’m the only one. I’ll pay for everything you need— within reasons, of course, so I expect proper compensation for my investment.”

There’s an unreadable glint in Eddy’s eyes and they didn’t leave Brett’s face.

At least he’d stopped looking so uncertain. Brett considered that an improvement.

“If you’re not happy with any part of this arrangement, you can still walk away now. No hard feelings.” No way in hell did he want that to happen, but he figured it’s fair to give Eddy the choice. He let the stifling quiet linger for a few moments, before he said, “So. What do you think?”

Eddy took his time, like he knew Brett’s standing on the precipice of nearly fucking losing it, waiting for his answer. After what felt like an eternity, he finally said, “I’d like that.” His smile was a touch shy, still so very sweet when he added, “I want to be yours.”

Halle-fucking-lujah.

“Good.” Brett surged across the counter separating them, curled his palms over the curve of Eddy’s jaw and pulled him into a searing hot kiss. Licking his mouth open, downright filthy. Eddy’s looking a bit dazed when they broke off and Brett thumbed at his bottom lip gently. His grin hitched sharper. “I wouldn’t have taken ‘no’ for an answer anyway.”

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Eddy ended up being late to his morning class, after all.

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tbc

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