He was cute, Weiran thought—short black hair, a dimple in his right cheek, thin and smiling. He looked nothing like Xingyu.

Weiran was relieved.

“Hey.”

Weiran closed the door behind himself. “Hey.”

“Is this your first time?”

Weiran nodded. Then he said, “Wait—hiring someone, yes.”

The smile widened and another dimple appeared, this time on his left cheek. “You’re charming. Most of the people I see just want to get right to it.” He leaned back then, and Weiran became suddenly very aware that the man in front of him was only wearing a white robe. It was loose too—the belt was unfastened, the front loosely open; as he leaned back, one side slid back with him and exposed his brown chest as well as his entire right leg. Weiran let out a laugh that sounded more panicked than amused.

“Ah, well, thank you.”

“So?” He patted the bed next to him. “What can I do for you today? I can top, I can bottom, I can give a mean blowjob—what sounds good to you?”

He looks nothing like Xingyu, Weiran reminded himself. He acts nothing like Xingyu.

“Well…” he said.

“Well?”

“Can we…can we talk?”

He stared at Weiran. Then he started laughing—not just a chuckle or a light laugh but a full-belly laugh, one that made him rock backward holding his stomach. “Talk? That’s all you want to do?”

“Well, I—”

“Okay, baby. We can talk.” He patted the bed again once he’d managed to stop laughing. “Sit.”

Weiran came toward him cautiously. The robe was still open—he could still see all of his chest, that long leg, a shock of dark hair just barely peeking past the fabric. He very deliberately looked away and sat down.

“Most of the guys that order me—especially on this short of notice—are itching to get off. They don’t even let me say a word before they’re pouncing.” He leaned back again, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his hand. His dimpled smile looked almost impish. “Are you nervous? Is it because you’re a virgin?”

“What?” Weiran had prepared so carefully to construct an excuse to get out of the sex, but he wasn’t even able to use it now. “No, of course not!”

“Well, you know…” He pressed his lips together and shrugged. “So what is it, then? You’re in love with someone and you’re trying to stay loyal?”

“No.”

The man raised his eyebrow. “That wasn’t as convincing.”

“It’s…” He was going to have to improvise a bit here, slip in some truth—he had a feeling he wouldn’t be believed otherwise. “Um, that’s kind of the case. But it’s not cheating!”

“Hey, I wasn’t going to judge. I’ve done a lot worse than help a person cheat.”