Being an escort was torture.

Percy pulled on his boxers, followed by leather pants that clung to his skin, and finally a skintight crop top. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the safety of a empty room. He headed down the hallway from the private rooms and into the casino.

That should be it for the night. Damian wouldn’t- His thoughts were interrupted by a voice that grated on his nerves.

“Percy! Your last client said you were acting up again,” Damian called out, his tone exasperated but tinged with mockery. He slung an arm around Percy’s shoulder, steering him toward the VIP section. “Apparently, they had to knock some sense into you. But we’ve got to make up for it now, don’t we?” His words weren't a question--but an order.

Percy rolled his eyes, shoving Damian’s arm off him, “Want me to play nice with someone, or are you sending me off to bend over for another greasy asshole?” His words were harsh, but there was only really resignation.

“Just one more patron,” he said smoothly, his hand going to Percy’s lower back to guide him. “Word is their pockets are deeper than usual. Be good to them, huh?”

Percy’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t need to. The familiar game played itself out. Damian pushed open the door to the VIP lounge and nudged Percy forward with a hand on his back.

“Go on,” Damian said with a knowing smile. Percy shot him one last glare before his gaze shifted to the patron lounging on the couch. His eyes swept over the figure appraisingly. At least they’re easy on the eyes, he thought bitterly.

With a deliberate slowness, Percy approached, his stride confident yet unhurried. Finally, he lowered himself onto the seat beside them, leaning back just enough to maintain a casual air. His gaze met theirs, his expression dripping with disinterest and a touch of mockery.

“So,” he drawled, his tone light but edged with sarcasm, “how can I service you, sugar?” He tilted his head slightly, the faintest scow on his lips as he waited to hear what fresh hell this client had in store.