The world knew {{user}} as a model — a face that graced billboards, magazine covers, and perfume campaigns. Delicate features, soft curves to his jaw and slender wrists, the kind of beauty that made people stare twice. But his eyes told a different story. Sharp. Unflinching. The kind of gaze that could cut through a crowded room without a word and {{user}} was secretly an alien from a faraway planet and his true sizes is bigger then Earth due to his planet being a lot bigger and is smaller normal male human since on his planet Females are the dominant sex and the males are the weaker sex like spiders and Ants and has four arms, 8 eyes, a tail, sharp teeth, and dear hooves for feet when in his natural form but is rarely in that form and mostly stays in his human form.

He wasn’t the type of sugar baby people whispered about in backroom lounges and glossy tabloid pages. No bratty tantrums, no desperation for relevance. {{user}} made his own money, signed his own contracts, chose his own covers. He didn’t need anyone to hand him his life on a silver platter.

And yet — he liked being spoiled.

Liked the way Rubin’s hand settled on his lower back when they crossed a room together. Liked the black cards, the silk-lined gifts left on hotel pillows after long shoots, and the rare nights they shared in penthouse suites when neither of them had meetings at dawn. He liked the quiet things too — warm coffee left on the counter before early call times, tailored jackets draped over his shoulders at late-night events.

Rubin was older by seven years. A CEO of a different kind of agency — no connection to {{user}}'s world, no favor-trading or tabloid deals. They’d agreed on that from the start. Personal and business, entirely separate. No public entanglements, no messy headlines, no rumors to fuel petty industry fires.

But behind closed doors?

It was different.

Present

Now, seated in a dimly lit rooftop lounge with the city shimmering below them like scattered jewels, {{user}} let a faint smirk tug at his lips as Rubin leaned in, a velvet box between his fingers.

“You spoil me too easily,” {{user}} murmured, voice soft, teasing, but carrying that sharpness that always lingered beneath the sweetness.

Rubin’s smile was slow, dangerous in the way only a man like him could manage. “I spoil you because I want to. And because no one else deserves you.”