The Escort Service

chapter 10

(Please ignore any grammatical mistakes)
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Ten



  Naturally Taehyung could ice-skate.



  He could do everything well—from eating ass to military history to pillow fights. He should have known he was an expert ice-skater as well.



  Apparently, he’d played a lot of ice hockey when he was younger, so he slid across the ice with such ease and confidence that Jeongguk couldn’t help but glare at him in annoyance.



  He’d never ice-skated before. He’d always wanted to, but He’d not gotten the chance as a kid. In high school, He and his best friend were supposed to visit an ice rink so He could learn, but something had come up and they’d never rescheduled. And once He’d grown up, the interest had basically disappeared from his radar.



  But that afternoon, while thinking over what He wanted to do with Taehyung, the idea of ice-skating had randomly crossed his mind. Then He couldn’t think of anything else He’d rather do. So He’d mentioned it in half jest in his response to Taehyung’s email, asking where they should meet.



  And here they were. Not at one of the big rinks, but at a newer, smaller one that Taehyung said was less crowded and had more convenient public skating times. He couldn’t help but wonder how many other clients he’d taken ice-skating in the past.



  For the last few weeks, ever since He’d found out Taehyung’s real identity, He’d felt weird about just meeting him at their regular hotel for sex. It wasn’t that He didn’t want to have sex with him. He did. And they always had sex for the last couple of hours of their scheduled engagements. But, especially knowing who he really was and the kind of sophisticated monster he had for a father, Jeongguk started feeling cheap and guilty about meeting up with him purely for sex.

  It made him his feel like he was just using Taehyung—in the same way everyone else always had.

  He knew he still was. He knew his change of routine was mostly an empty gesture. But it made him his feel better. Made him his feel like their liaisons weren’t quite so superficial and objectifying. And he had a good time with Taehyung—even outside the bedroom.

  On the first evening he’d suggested a change, they’d gone to an exhibit of antique Asian fans that the art museum was displaying for the month. Taehyung had wowed him with his knowledge of Asian fans until he’d needled him into admitting that he’d spent the day before doing research on them.

  For their next engagement, they’d gone out to eat and then to a newly opened bookstore, specializing in used and rare books. They’d spent almost two hours searching the shelves and talking about books before they’d gone back to the hotel to have sex.

  And today they were going to ice skate. Something Jeongguk had always wanted to do.

  Now he wasn’t sure why.

  He was horrible at it. He knew how to roller-skate, and he’d done some roller-blading in college. Somehow he assumed that experience would help him on the ice.

  It didn’t. He wobbled around, clinging to the wall or to Taehyung’s arm and falling down so many times it was mortifying. Six-year-old kids were skating better than he was. And Taehyung, damn him, had to be the most patient, considerate teacher imaginable.

  Jeongguk would feel better if Taehyung would just laugh at him.

  Jeongguk hadn’t said a word to him about knowing who he really was. He felt kind of guilty about snooping into his personal life—when he’d been so clear with him before about vigilance over his privacy. Plus he wasn’t sure what to say. Taehyung obviously had reason to keep his identity secret, and he’d probably be mad if he blurted out that he now knew the truth.

  He told himself it didn’t matter. He was still the same Taehyung he’d known for the last six months.

  But it did matter. It made him feel even more like a whole person. A person with a traumatic, conflicted history and a father whom the papers and news shows constantly characterized as heartless and money hungry. A man who never hesitated to wipe out anyone who happened to be in the way of what he wanted.

  Had Jeongguk met Taehyung as Taehyung Milton, he probably would have been immediately suspicious and taken him for a spoiled, selfish playboy. But he knew Taehyung now. Knew he’d probably been one of his father’s most damaged victims.

  Knowing who Taehyung’s father was made him feel weird and awkward in a way he hadn’t expected.

  The change in their routine helped, and pushing knowledge of Taehyung’s identity from his consciousness helped some too. But a tiny, stifled part of Jeongguk’s mind kept hinting that he wasn’t going to be able to shuffle through this emotional balancing act for very long.

  Determined to enjoy himself as much as he could for as long as he could, Jeongguk tried to skate another lap around the rink. He did a little better this time. His ankles wobbled a bit, but he held himself upright and made it several yards before he felt himself lose his balance.

  Jeongguk reached out to clutch at Taehyung, who was skating slowly and trying to give him some pointers.

  Taehyung came to a neat stop in time to catch him. He whimpered in frustration and buried his face in Taehyung’s shirt for a moment. Then he looked up at him and gritted out, “Damn it!”

  Taehyung’s lips twitched just a little. “You’re doing fine.”

  “No I’m not. Everyone is doing better than me. I’m usually good at things. This is ridiculous.”

  His arms loosely draped around his waist, Taehyung’s eyes were momentarily so warm they took his breath away. Then he said with his typical cool composure, “You’re too uptight now. It’s making you clumsier than normal.”

  Jeongguk gasped indignantly. “Clumsy!”

  “Just a little,” he qualified with another twitch of his mouth. “Try to relax and have fun with it. You’re in good shape, and you’re coordinated. You’ll do just fine if you relax a little.”

  He’d never dare to admit it, but a lot of Jeongguk’s tension was caused by something other than the new skill he was trying to learn. Being with Taehyung now made him feel kind of jittery. Tense and confused. Part of it had to do with the knowledge of his identity.

  And the rest of it was caused by intense feelings Jeongguk was too afraid to explore too deeply.

  To cover his nerves, he glared up at him. “If you dare tell me I need to breathe... ”

  Taehyung let out a brief burst of laughter, and Jeongguk felt a little wave of delight at having amused him that way. It was always like this for him his now, swinging from one emotional extreme to another.

  But then Taehyung gave him his a thoughtful look. “Actually, that might not be a bad idea.” Before Jeongguk could do more than huff, he continued, “Think about breathing the way you did the first few times we were together.”

  He stared at him suspiciously.

  “Just do it,” he said with an ironic smile. “Trust me.”

  As incongruous as it sounded, he did trust him. So with a last roll of him his eyes, he began to breathe slowly and evenly.

  After a minute, Taehyung nudged him forward. “Let’s go. And move your legs with your breathing.”

  It sounded absolutely ridiculous, and it really shouldn’t have worked.

  But it did.

  Taehyung had to help him his coordinate him his motion at first, but Jeongguk soon got the hang of it. Breathe and slide. Breathe and slide.

  He made it halfway around the rink before he started to wobble. And then he didn’t even fall. After a while, he could make it around the entire rink by himself. And soon he could actually enjoy it.

  They skated for a little more than an hour, but then the rink started getting more crowded. It was a Friday night, and this was apparently a favorite spot for high school dates. Jeongguk could feel him his cheeks were bright red from effort and activity, and him his legs were getting a little tired.

  So when Taehyung suggested just one more circle around the rink before they left, he was in full agreement.

  Jeongguk was delighted with himself when he made it the whole way without even a wobble. He clung to Taehyung’s hand and decided he understood why he’d always dreamed ice-skating would be such a fun and romantic activity.

  Jeongguk was brimming over with victory at his accomplishment and with giddy excitement as they finally came to a stop and stepped off the ice.

  He took off him his skates, grinning to himself and thinking how much fun he would have had skating with his best friend and crush from high school. He kind of felt like a teenager again right now, so he could only imagine how he would have felt back then.

  “Have fun?” Taehyung asked, straightening up after sliding on his shoes. His face was relaxed, and Jeongguk could have sworn Taehyung was having a good time too. Surely he wasn’t just pretending for his benefit.

  Jeongguk stood up and beamed up into his face. “Yes.”

  Taehyung looked so adorable in his dusky purple shirt, with slightly flushed cheeks and soft eyes and mouth that Jeongguk wanted to hug him.

  Then Jeongguk couldn’t think of a reason not to.

  Without letting himself question the action, he wrapped his arms around Taehyung, pressed body against his, and squeezed him tightly. “It was wonderful! Thank you for taking me.”

  Jeongguk felt Taehyung stiffen in him his arms for just a moment before he relaxed and hugged him back.

  Jeongguk supposed he must have surprised Taehyung. It should be pretty obvious that hugging one’s gigolo out of pure joie de vivre wasn’t a normal activity.

  But Taehyung returned his embrace soon enough and warmly enough to keep Jeongguk from getting too self-conscious. He smelled wonderful, and Jeongguk breathed in as he squeezed him.

  When he pulled back, he caught a flicker in Taehyung’s eyes of a feeling he couldn’t quite name. His mouth parted in surprise as he gazed up at him, trying to catch a glimpse of it again.

  His mouth quirked up with a familiar, dry humor. “Someone really should have taken you ice-skating before now.”

  Jeongguk snorted. “Yeah. Tell me about it. But they wouldn’t have been such a good teacher as you.” He slanted him a quizzical look. “Do you have to be good at everything?”

  Taehyung just chuckled as they began to leave the rink. He suggested a little Italian place just a few blocks down for dinner—remarking it was one of his favorite and Jeongguk agreed. It was a mild evening, and Jeongguk enjoyed the walk and was genuinely interested in the story Taehyung told him about the architect who designed the building on the corner.

  He was evidently too relaxed, however, because he randomly spoke what was on his mind. Rarely a good idea.

  “You know, Taehyung, sometimes it’s a little unnerving to be around you. I mean, you’re so good at everything. You know everything.”

  Taehyung gave him a sideways look. “I told you the other day that I only knew about Asian fans because I did my homework.”

  Jeongguk couldn’t help but laugh. “I know. But seriously, you’re amazingly knowledgeable and competent. I generally think I’m a smart, talented person. But I sometimes feel like an inexperienced when I’m around you.”

   His tone had been light, but Taehyung came to a stop on the sidewalk, causing the couple behind them to veer widely around them with a muttered grumble. “Jeongguk, that’s absurd.”

  “I know.” He felt shy and kind of squirmy for some reason. “I’m not saying it’s something I believe. I just feel that way sometimes. And sometimes I wish... I wish you didn’t always have to be the teacher. I wish there was something I could teach you.”

   His voice faded off on the last words, as he was mostly speaking to himself. He stared at the concrete and processed what he’d just said.

  But Taehyung suddenly grew tense, and moved a hand to his face, lifting it so he was looking into his eyes. “Jeongguk,” he said, his voice unexpectedly thick. “Do you have any idea what you’ve taught me?”

  Jeongguk’s mouth fell open again. “What?” he breathed, his pulse starting to pound frantically.

  For just a moment he thought he would drown in his eyes. They looked more grey than blue in the lowering light, and they held such depth he couldn’t begin to understand them.

  Then his mouth quirked up with a dry humour that Jeongguk recognized. Jeongguk usually loved his sense of humor, but the sight of it now made him want to scream—since it meant his mood had shifted from the delicious tension of a moment ago.

  Taehyung murmured something that might have been the truth but was obviously not what he’d originally intended. “You’ve taught me how to research Asian fans.”

  As they walked the last two blocks to the restaurant, Jeongguk’s high spirits returned with the quicksilver variability that seemed to define him his time spent with Taehyung over the last few weeks.

  He was actually giggling as they walked into the small, candlelit restaurant. The air smelled like garlic, and delightful music played in the background. A genial Mediterranean-looking man greeted Taehyung by name and turned to Jeongguk with a blinking smile that looked vaguely surprised.

  Jeongguk loved the place immediately.

  There weren’t very many tables, and evidently all of them were taken. The host was extremely apologetic and offered them a complimentary drink while they waited a few minutes for one of the tables to vacate.

  Not used to such treatment by a restaurant host unless he tossed around the name JK Cena, Jeongguk leaned toward Taehyung as they stood near the wall in the pleasant entryway. “What have you done to earn such treatment?” he murmured, foolishly enjoying the sense of having him so close to him his in such a public place.

  Taehyung smiled, his eyes lingering on his face in a way that made him shiver in delight. “I come here a lot.”

  When the host brushed by him on his way to scout out table availability, Jeongguk swayed even closer to Taehyung, instinctively putting one hand out to curve gently around his side, just under his ribs. “Do you live around here?”

  Jeongguk had no idea where he lived, and he was dying to know what his home was like. But he asked the question absently, without any underhanded motive to pry.

  “Not far.” Taehyung didn’t look particularly closed off, although his answer wasn’t at all forthcoming. He didn’t pull away from him. In fact, he shifted a little, leaning against the wall and somehow moving even closer to him.

  Their hips, chests, and arms brushed against each other, and Jeongguk still hadn’t removed his hand from his side.

  Jeongguk liked the way Taehyung was looking at him. He liked the way Taehyung’s body felt beneath his palm—the warm, firm flesh he felt beneath his shirt, not sexual as much as intimate.

  And he realized that this was something he was missing—the feel of being with a man in public, having everyone around them know they were together. He was paying Taehyung for his time and attention this evening, but everyone who saw them must assume they were a couple.

  It felt like they were together. And that tiny, nagging, inner voice that always insisted on spoiling Jeongguk’s simple fun kept telling him he was treading very dangerous water here.

  Jeongguk wasn’t entirely a fool. And he was very afraid he was becoming one of those silly, desperate men who started to believe in a fantasy. Who convinced themselves that what they had with Taehyung was real.

  He was relieved when the host came back over and brought them their drinks. Jeongguk sipped his red wine and watched, strangely fascinated, as Taehyung took a swallow of his scotch.

  “Sorry about the wait,” Taehyung murmured, adjusting so his arm was around him and he was leaning against the wall with him. “We can go somewhere else if you want.”

  “This is great,” Jeongguk said, telling himself he would enjoy this evening and tomorrow he would sort through a few unsettling recognitions that he just couldn’t shake.

  He leaned his head against Taehyung’s shoulder and took another sip of him his wine. He saw the host talking to a waitress. They were obviously preparing a table for them. When the host glanced over toward Taehyung and Jeongguk, he smiled with an unexpected fondness in his gaze.

  He looked almost like a proud papa, and Jeongguk vaguely wondered what had prompted the look.

  He slanted him his eyes up to Taehyung and surprised another unsettling expression on his face. He gazed down at him with soft eyes, and for a moment he lost his breath.

  Then he remembered the way he’d looked at Jung Hoseok. The way he probably looked at all his clients.

  That was Taehyung’s job. Make them feel special. Act like a besotted, romantic escort.

  He ducked his head abruptly and told himself not to picture him with anyone else. But he kept seeing Taehyung with Hoseok. Flirting with him. Seducing him. Kissing him. Having sex with him. Fucking him with pulsing intensity and hot, hungry eyes.

  Exactly like he did with Jeongguk.

  “What’s the matter?” Taehyung asked, tilting his head up so he could scan his face.

  Jeongguk shook his head and let out a breath of rueful laughter since the only other choice was to cry.

  “Jeongguk?” Taehyung prompted, leaning his head down and frowning. He couldn’t tell if he was concerned or annoyed, and he wasn’t sure which he’d prefer.

  Jeongguk took a slow sip of wine and tried to hide  his face with the rim of the glass. Then he smiled at him, just a little shaky. “Looks like they’ve got our table ready.”

  To Jeongguk’s relief, they did. The host hurried back, gestured them over to a cozy table in the far corner of the restaurant, and took their drinks to carry over himself.

  Taehyung put his hand on the small of Jeongguk’s back as they walked, and the gesture felt supportive and protective.

  Jeongguk liked it. Way too much.

  They were halfway through the restaurant when he felt Taehyung stiffen dramatically beside him. He didn’t really move, didn’t make a sound. But Jeongguk felt it—as sure as if he’d tensed up himself.

  Looking over at him quickly, he felt his heart drop when he saw a frozen expression on his face. His features were stoic. Completely blank. And so immovable they terrified him.

  Jeongguk followed his fixed gaze over to the other side of the restaurant where a couple was seated over half-finished pasta and a nearly empty bottle of wine. The woman was beautiful—slender, elegant, red-haired, and probably in her mid-thirties.

  The man was much older, with long limbs and a contained appearance that spoke of a lifetime of power and strategy. He had a craggy face black glasses rested on his small nose that was oddly mesmerizing. And a distinctive mane of thick, longish, graying hair.

  Jeongguk knew who it was, and he knew why Taehyung had become a stony statue beside him.

  Kim NamJoon’s knowing eyes scanned the restaurant casually. He couldn’t have failed to see his son standing half a room away. From his vantage point, he may have even seen Taehyung and Jeongguk as soon as they’d entered. Certainly when they’d been standing in intimate proximity and waiting for their table.

  But Namjoon’s eyes passed over Taehyung as if his son didn’t exist in the world.

  Jeongguk gasped from a sharp wrench of pain at the obvious slight. Taehyung hadn’t moved, and his complete lack of reaction was perhaps the scariest thing of all.

  Jeongguk grabbed his arm, pressing up against his side with a protective instinct he couldn’t possibly control. As he moved, Taehyung’s hand dropped from the small of his back to hang limply at his side.

  “Let’s go somewhere else,” Jeongguk said, trying to keep his voice natural and utterly failing. “I’m not sure I feel like Italian after all.”

  It was an implausible excuse, but it was all that he could think of. And he couldn’t help thinking the most important thing in the universe was getting Taehyung out of this restaurant.

  Taehyung’s eyes turned to stare at him blankly, but he was sure he couldn’t really see him. “What do you mean?” He was better than he was at composing his voice, but his eyes were so empty they broke his heart.

  Jeongguk shot a nervous glance back over at Namjoon, who was looking once more at his companion but smiling smugly in a way that he knew was meant for Taehyung.