Where was the kid now? He said he’d gone away for a meeting of some sort—Liu Xingyu pulled out his phone and sent a text: Will you be home in time for dinner?

He waited. Waited another minute. He knew how his father worked in business—the business deal was important, but he would even pause the most lucrative of deals to reply to any of his three immediate family members. Surely, since Xiao-Xiao had been training under him for so long, he would have the same habit.

Yet, he did not reply.

He sent another message: Is everything okay? I promise I won’t cause problems.

Another few minutes, and still no reply. Liu Xingyu tossed his phone onto the bed and pulled the rest of his clothes out, shook out the wrinkles, and started fitting them onto hangers. He would be back for dinner. A big family event like this, Xingyu back for the first time in years—he wouldn’t miss it, no matter how much he hated his older brother. He would at least do it for their parents. Xiao-Xiao was a filial son like that.

‘XIAO-XIAO’S PHONE WAS set to vibrate and, across the room, it was impossible to hear. Even if he could hear it, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—get up to see who it was, partly because these deals were not the kind that could be interrupted as Liu Xingyu assumed, and partly because he really, physically, could not.

A breath brushed past his ear—“Yeah, just like that—oh, fuck, yes—”

Xiaokai gripped the headboard with both hands and braced himself against it as the body behind him slammed forward with all its force, pushing deeper into him. He cried out at the feeling, not sure if it was from pain or pleasure, and the voice behind him laughed.

“Yeah, you like that? You’re sucking me in, you fucking whore.” A hand slammed down on Xiaokai’s ass, hard enough to bruise, and Xiaokai cried out again, his body stuttering for a moment, then releasing, and as soon as his cum spattered against the headboard the man behind him reached forward and seized the base of his cock, stroking up and down, milking him for all that he was worth.

“Please—please, I can’t—not again—” He was only barely aware of the words slipping out of his mouth.

“Not again? You think you get to say no to me?” He seized Liu Xiaokai’s shoulder and pushed hard, flipping him onto his back so he was sprawled beneath his weight. “Wrap your legs around me,” he hissed into Xiaokai’s ear.

Notes about this client:

His name was Hu Yongzhu—zhu as in help or assist, which Xiaokai thought was ironic.

He was forty-two years old.

He had a wife and a child, the former two years younger than him, the latter two years younger than Xiaokai.