I, in a fit of belated lust, started sponsoring a broke college kid. He’d swear, tongue in my mouth, that he was a pro who’d never fall for his sugar daddy. I’d push his face away: "Fine. You catch feelings, you’re a dog." Later, he found out he looked just like my first love. He buried his face in my chest, eyes red, and whimpered, "Can’t a dog... can't a dog bite here?" "Just love me, okay? Stop thinking about him. I can't take it." 1 The first time I saw Leo, I knew he’d be the death of me. He was just… electric. He was a server at the gay bar I owned. White shirt, black vest, slim waist, long legs. He was so beautiful it hurt to look at. He knew exactly how devastating he was, and his rejections were a performance art. A younger guy, blushing bright red, asked for his number. Leo replied with a perfectly straight face: "Dude, I'm all show, no go. Don't waste your time." I leaned against the bar, laughing. My laugh must have been too loud, because he glanced over at me. His eyes were cold and bright. Tsk. Even better. Ricky, my bartender, hooked a finger in the silver chain around my neck, pulling my attention back. "See something you like, Julian?" he purred. "Too bad. Leo doesn't like men." I raised an eyebrow, waiting. Ricky leaned in, his breath warm on my ear. "I already asked around. He’s only working here because he’s desperate for cash. We pay double what any other campus job does. Plus, he's got a sweet mouth and a hard heart. He clears a fortune in tips." "Is that so?" I swirled the bourbon in my glass, an idea taking root. "A sweet mouth, huh?" 2 I, Julian Thorne, have few virtues. But I am rich, and I am patient. When I see something I want, I get it. I had him looked into. The file was delivered to my office. Just a few thin pages, but they made me wince. Leo Sterling, 20. A computer science prodigy at NYU. His grandmother was in the hospital, long-term care. His father was a world-class scumbag. Ran off with his high school sweetheart years ago, leaving Leo to care for his mother, who had been paralyzed. The dad’s parting words were, "I’ve done my duty. Who the hell wants to be a nursemaid for a vegetable?" Leo sold the house, borrowed from everyone he knew, and somehow kept his grandmother’s heart beating. He was juggling medical debt and loans, going to classes, and working two jobs, ending his nights at my bar. My chest felt a little tight. If I had been in his shoes, I couldn’t have done half as well. In my mind, the script was supposed to go like this: I, the wealthy patron, offer to sponsor him. He, full of pride, curses me out and tells me to go to hell. Then, I swoop in, pay off his nana’s medical debt, and he, for the sake of his family, reluctantly and humiliatingly agrees to be mine. Thus begins our angsty, push-pull sugar daddy arrangement. That’s how it’s supposed to work. However, the reality was this: Leo stood in front of my desk, placed a folder neatly in front of me, and said in a clear voice, "Sir, this is my full health report, including recent bloodwork. All my vitals are excellent." Me: "..." Before I could reset my expression, he continued. "Additionally, before we sign, may I review the specific terms of the arrangement? I'd like to understand the obligations, the confidentiality clause, and the termination conditions." I managed a dry, "Oh." I pushed the contract my assistant had drafted across the desk. He picked it up and just stood there, reading it. Line by line. I stared at his perfect profile, my throat suddenly dry. What was happening? I was supposed to be the one in charge. Why did I feel like the rookie while he was the seasoned negotiator? I cleared my throat. "Leo, do you understand what you'll be... required to do?" He looked up. "Yes, I do." He recited, as if reading a job description: "Kiss you, touch you, hold you, serve you, satisfy you in bed. Be on call, maintain loyalty, and provide physical and emotional value as needed." "Stop, stop!" My face was burning. "You get it." "The terms are acceptable, sir. I just have one request. I'd like specific days guaranteed for visiting my grandmother to be written into the contract, with priority execution." I nodded. "Fine. That's reasonable." We signed. Just like that, Leo was mine. I got him in to see the best specialists in the city and set up a new treatment plan for his nana. He sat in the consultation room, perfectly still, answering the doctor’s questions with quiet precision. He was like a model student. I smiled. He was actually... kind of adorable. I knew he was brilliant. If life hadn't buried him in debt, I never would have had a chance. 3 That weekend, I was dead asleep when my doorbell rang. A single, patient chime, once every minute. I have a violent hatred of being woken up. I stomped downstairs, ready to murder someone, and ripped the door open— Leo. He was standing there quietly with a small rolling suitcase. The morning light hit him just right, making him look unfairly beautiful. He saw my thunderous expression, pressed his lips together, and said softly, "Sir. I'm here to report for duty." All my anger vanished. "Oh." My brain hadn't booted up yet. I just moved aside and let him in. Then, to my utter shock, he reached down, grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, and pulled it over his head. My eyes widened. Sculpted pecs, a tight six-pack, and a sharp V-cut disappearing into his jeans. I was instantly awake. And my nose felt warm. "W-wait, honey," I stammered. "It's 8 AM... you don't have to clock in that fast." He paused, shirt in hand. He looked at me, confused. Then he bent down and pulled something out of his suitcase. An apron. With a cartoon bear on it. He tied it around his bare torso, hiding the scenery that had just sent my blood pressure skyrocketing. "I did some research yesterday," he said, all business. "A high-quality companion wears this when preparing breakfast for their patron." Me: "..." I stared at the apron strings cutting into the muscles of his back. "You're..." I finally managed, "You're very diligent. Great work ethic." He nodded, accepting the compliment. "Ms. Evans said you skip breakfast. That's unhealthy. My cooking is decent. I'll make you noodles." He went into the kitchen and started prepping. I stumbled through my morning routine, then leaned against the kitchen doorframe, my eyes glued to him. That waist. Those legs. He was in the middle of chopping scallions when he suddenly stopped, turned around, and caught me staring. A faint blush crept up his ears. "Sir... would you like to touch?" Me: "...Huh?" He repeated, patiently, "You've been looking for a while. You can touch. It's your right, as per the agreement. The tactile experience should be... acceptable." He added, as if worried I'd decline, "I showered before I came." I was floored. Wasn't I supposed to be the one making the moves? Wasn't he supposed to be shy? Why was he teaching me how to be a sugar daddy? 4 I dropped the pretense. I walked over, wrapped my arms around his waist, and untied the apron’s bow. The feeling of his skin—hot, firm, smooth—made me want to howl. I ran my hands over his sides, giving a little squeeze. Perfect. Leo’s body tensed. He gently took my wandering hand, lowered his head, and pressed a soft, chaste kiss against my fingertips. My entire nervous system short-circuited. "Did you take a class on this? You're too good." He shook his head. "No. I just want you to like me." Who could possibly resist that? I was pressed against him, and I felt... something... hard. My eyes shot down. Damn. College kids really are full of energy. Leo immediately clamped his legs together, covering himself with one hand. "Sorry, sir," he mumbled, his face red. "I can't control it." "What's for breakfast?" I thought, my throat tight. I cleared my throat. "Nothing to apologize for. Come on." I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. He followed, his breathing heavy. "What about the noodles, sir?" "Later. Business first." He tumbled me onto the bed, both of us fumbling and eager. He slid his hands under my shirt, his skin scalding hot. He leaned in, smelling like soap, aiming for my mouth. I turned my head. It was pure reflex. I’d had partners before. Sex was easy. Kissing was not. Kissing felt... intimate. More real than skin on skin. Leo froze. He understood immediately. He didn't try for my lips again. He just lowered his head, his hot mouth and sharp teeth finding their way to my collarbone, my chest. He was slow. Deliberate. I felt a shiver run down my spine. My fingers tangled in his hair. "Leo..." I rasped, not used to this kind of teasing. He looked up, his eyes clouded with arousal. "Sir... is here off-limits, too?" 5 I slapped his ass. "Alright, turn over." He didn't move. His eyes, wide and innocent, were glassy with moisture. He looked at me, then pressed his body against mine. I glanced down again. Good god. That "all packaging, no product" line was the biggest lie he'd ever told. He wrapped his arms around me, burying his hot face in my neck. "Sir... please, let me? I promise I'll be good." I stammered. "What? No. I’ve never..." He nuzzled my neck, looking pathetic. "I studied all night. I have the theory down. Just let me try?" He pulled back, his face inches from mine, and started peppering my cheeks and jaw with soft, pleading kisses. I'm only human. He knew he was winning. He whispered right in my ear, "I'll be gentle, sir. I'll make you feel good. Please, Julian." My self-control evaporated. I felt like a decadent king, hopelessly corrupted by beauty. I squeezed my eyes shut, resigned to my fate. "Fine. You can try." And so, Leo put his night of "studying" into practice. It was... not bad. He was clumsy, but incredibly patient and attentive. He kept watching my face, whispering. "Are you watching me, sir?" "You're covering your eyes. Are you shy?" "You're so responsive, Julian. You keep biting me." I was mortified. "Can you please shut up?" He pouted. "Oh. I learned this part special. I thought... I thought it would be hot." It was hot, but that wasn't the point. I couldn't take it. I planted my foot on his chest to push him away. He slowed down, his gaze dropping to the silver chain around my neck. The one with the ring on it. He stared at it for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then, very gently, he tucked the chain behind my neck, hiding the ring in my hair. I was half-lost in sensation, and his pause was annoying. "What's wrong? Don't stop." ... He started again, with a vengeance. His lips found my heart and stayed there, a long, drawn-out torment. I tensed, my toes curling in his grasp. I think... I think I misjudged who was in charge here. Leo grabbed my hand and pressed it to his cheek, nuzzling into my palm. He looked at me, his face close. "Sir. Did I satisfy you?" He was too good at this. I had to admit, my heart, which I thought was dead, skipped a beat.
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