He grit his teeth hard as he knelt over the man below him, pressing down against him and slowly taking him in.

It had become a bit of a joke between his regular clients. If they found out someone was hiring him for the night, they'd make bets over whether he'd make a noise or not. [i]Fuck[/i] it was irritating, but who was he to comment on it. That'd just let some bastard win.

Normally he was on his knees, back arched just a little and fists clenched tight, forehead resting on folded arms. He'd grit his teeth and squirm just a tad as they entered [i]never being careful but who was he to mind[/i] and then bite his tongue as they fucked him [i]usually pounding but it barely hurt anymore[/i] only to kneel there, panting for a few minutes to gather himself as they dressed themselves again, to return to the social nightlife as if nothing ever happened. If he was feeling particularly weak he'd reach down and finish himself off, but normally he was much less than interested.

He bit his lip hard as he finally reached the hilt, leaning forward with thin hands on the guy's chest for support. Every so often, something like this happened. A client- sometimes a regular but usually a one-timer- would break the norm. He closed his eyes as he felt strong hands take purchase on his hips, before jerking his hips forward with a little gasp.

Normally he didn't care for it. It's just a job, something he did from six to midnight, sometimes two or four if he was unlucky. Get the sleazy bastards off and then head home as quick as possible. It's not like they cared for him, and he didn't really want to be anywhere near them anyway.

[i]but it was a job and something that needed to be done so he just bit his lip and got the fuck on with it[/i]

He found himself leaning back a bit, before gasping and jerking as something was brushed inside him. His client obviously noticed, as a calloused hand wrapped around him and [i]squeezed[/i]- he lost track of everything then and suddenly he was leaning back over him, shaking and breathing hard with his hands pressing almostbruises into his shoulders as they came almost in unison.

[i]and he hated it when that happened because not only had he let his guard down but it was like some sort of sick [b]mockery[/b] of something that should be [b]beautiful[/b][/i]

And then he collapsed, panting against his shoulder and slick with sweat. He felt warm hands on his back as he let his eyes drift closed, but then he was pulling himself off with a grunt, searching out his jeans and boxers and tugging them on quickly. He gave a short little wave goodbye as he glanced over his shoulder- he'd been paid before they started- before heading out and home.

He'd suffered enough indignity for once night, he'd decided.