friday nights in rendezvous
Title: Friday Nights in Rendezvous
Pairing: Ohno x Sho (Ohno x Nino, Ohno x Aiba, Ohno x Jun)
Rating: R
Word Count: 1800+
Notes: Host!Ohno AU. Just in case, I know that hosts aren’t prostitutes, but can Ohno help that he likes getting laid?
Summary: Moments in the life of an average host.
Friday Nights in Rendezvous
He comes every Friday night, nearly five minutes after Rendezvous opens. This Friday is like any other.
"This week was hell," Sho tells Ohno blearily, ordering the most expensive champagne on the list before flopping onto the plush and gaudy seat.
Ohno curls his fingers around Sho’s chin - he has such pretty, short-lashed eyes - "Tell me about it," Ohno says quietly, voice deep like the bass beat that pounds against every corner of the dim room, which is awash in raspberry filtered lights.
Sho sighs into his fingers, smudging his lips against the digits. He peppers sloppy little kisses on moisturized fingertips - coconut oil with a hint of lime tonight - and Ohno lets him.
Just like every Friday night, Sho talks about his week at work. How his boss thinks he’s too good looking and too young to be where he is now. How his subordinates - formally coworkers; things have changed so quickly - hate him and everything he has become. How he smiles when he doesn’t want to smile. How Ohno is the only one who will listen to him - even if it’s for a fee, Sho says with a sad little laugh, I’ll take what I can get.
And then, ten minutes past nine, Sho moves to stand. "Well, I shouldn’t keep you from your other clients. Have a nice night, Ohno-san."
"It’s Satoshi," Ohno always tries, and Sho just smiles awkwardly before stumbling out the door.
"The kid came again, didn’t he?"
Ohno looks up, "Is it that obvious?"
Nino slides into the booth, squeezing next to him. His ratty t-shirt brushes against Ohno’s suit sleeve, which reeks of cigarettes and expensive cologne. He steals a squid ball from the ramen he had just placed in front of Ohno, and smirks. "Of course." Ohno glances at him with a raised brow before digging in, and Nino’s fingers linger on the buttons on Ohno’s now-wrinkled collared shirt. "You always show up here on Fridays, which is when that guy comes, you’ve said. Plus, I can tell you didn’t get laid today." Nino’s hand trails up Ohno’s sleeve and rests in the curve of his neck just below his jaw line in a way that should be considered slutty, but since it’s Nino, is only normal. "And when you don’t get laid, you come here for your ramen fix and expect me to finish the job."
Ohno turns into Nino’s stubby fingers as they play in the tendrils of Ohno’s sweat-dampened hair. "As if you don’t like that I do."
Nino laughs, "Who said I didn’t? But I may’ve become too dependent on you." An odd sort of pause before Ohno shifts uncomfortably and Nino rolls his eyes. "Seriously, when are you going to make an honest woman out of me?"
"When you become a woman," Ohno says, and Nino scoffs. He smacks his lips loudly against Ohno’s and raps his knuckles against Ohno’s cheek.
"I get off in ten." A rasp in Ohno’s ear.
Ohno eats his ramen as he waits.
It took Sho a while to get used to being touched by Ohno. His fingers curled into fists the first time Ohno laid his hand on Sho’s arm, and his eyes widened the first time Ohno kissed him gently on the corner of his mouth. For the longest time, Sho gasped when Ohno’s thigh brushed against Sho’s on velvet cushions, when his lips hovered a little too close to Sho’s cheekbone, when he carefully brushed dark silky locks from Sho’s eyes.
He’s just like every other overpaid businessman Ohno’s seen come and go in the host club. And yet, he’s everything but. Sho looks extremely uncomfortable in that expensive suit of his and even more so the moment he walks into Ohno’s booth. When he glances at Ohno, he flushes and quickly looks away. When he touches Ohno, it’s gentle, careful, simple. (And Sho’s never taken it a step further, never even tried to suggest sleeping together - though Ohno’s sure that Sho’s considered it; Sho’s eyes are dark when he looks at Ohno, expressive and honest in a way Ohno hadn’t realized he appreciated.)
To Ohno, Sho is a breath of fresh air in a workplace steeped in seduction and empty compliments. He’s never had a client like Sho before, so honest and lonely and attractive. Nevertheless, their relationship is remarkably simple.
Sho talks, and Ohno listens.
The other hosts think it’s hilarious. "I wish I had your regular," they tell Ohno, "such easy money, you lucky bitch."
Ohno’s regular, that’s what they call Sho. As if his name is irrelevant. Sho, who is just a lonely businessman, who looks at Ohno with simply sad eyes. Sho, who is lonely, so very lonely. Who, to Ohno, may have become more than just another regular.
"Sho", Ohno tries to insist, but no one listens.
"He has a name," he tries again, and his boss tuts.
"Don’t get too attached," he warns. "Your client isn’t going to come here forever."
Ohno blinks.
But he’s Sho, he wants to say.
Most of his workdays are filled with old men, who get drunk and all over Ohno in minutes, who blather on about their miserable lives and pay extravagant amounts for Ohno’s attention. And on those days, Ohno just grins widely, fake in every respect. He chugs down another glass of wine and takes a deep breath as he lets them feel him up for an extra fee.
But some days, he’ll admit being a host has its perks.
The boy who ambles into Rendezvous one Tuesday is gorgeous. He has a strikingly charming face, with almond-shaped eyes and long sweeping lashes. His cheeks are flushed, lips pink and full, and Ohno wants to ravish him.
He can tell the other hosts feel the same way. But work comes first, and they immediately assess his value. "He looks poor," one says. "Doesn’t he know this place is just an excuse to rip off old gay men? I don’t think I could take so much money from that pretty face."
Another snorts, "Hell, I’ll take him if you don’t want him."
Ohno yawns, and a loud giggle floats into his ears. He looks up and from the entrance the man smiles, waves. "Hi!"
Fifteen minutes later, they are seated in Ohno’s booth, the man sprawled on the seat as if he’s been frequenting the joint for years. Ohno learns that the man is named Aiba, that he’s here because of a dare, that he likes strawberry smoothies and that Ohno has the cutest baby face. Apparently, when Ohno yawns, his nose scrunches up and it’s super adorable. At least, Aiba seems to think so.
They talk and drink rich wine for an hour or so, and by the end of the night, Ohno’s head is light and voice giddy with the artificial happiness that comes with too much alcohol. And Aiba’s a nice guy, probably better looking than most of his coworkers. His eyes are bright as the night wears down to a close, and Ohno doesn’t pull away from the hand that settles casually on Ohno’s hip, thumb sweeping across Ohno’s hipbone.
So when Aiba pulls out a platinum credit card and asks if he’s free for the night, Ohno accepts the invitation. He usually doesn’t, but he’d be stupid not to; it’s not every day Ohno gets propositioned by sex on legs. Aiba has long fingers that dig into the meat of Ohno’s thighs. His breath shudders when Ohno’s teeth scrape against his collarbone and he bites his lip as Ohno rocks into the warmth of Aiba’s body. He is enthusiastic as he curls his mouth over Ohno’s, and when Ohno wraps his legs around Aiba tighter for him to fuckingmovemygod, he groans a throaty laugh into Ohno’s lips. He is breathless as Ohno crawls from underneath him and as they lay side by side on the gaudy silken sheets of the love hotel.
And Aiba is beautiful when he finally falls asleep, and Ohno leaves.
One Friday, Sho sits down like he always does, but Ohno can tell that something is up. The Sho who is sitting in front of him is not the Sho he is used to. If anything, it’s the Sho who first walked into Rendezvous months ago, the Sho who couldn’t look him in the eye and sat rigid, like a stone. Today, there is no warmth in Sho’s usually bright eyes, and heavy eye bags sit on hollowed cheeks.
Ohno swallows. "Did something happen?" He reaches out toward Sho’s sleeve, but stops when Sho flinches, and folds his hands into his lap awkwardly as he waits for Sho to speak.
He is quiet for a long time, but Ohno’s a patient guy. Five minutes. Ten. Finally, Sho takes a deep breath, and his words are quiet, resigned.
"I’m being transferred to the Okinawa branch."
Ohno’s voice catches in his throat. "That’s…congratulations." Sho smiles painfully and knocks back a glass of red wine.
"Thanks," he says ruefully. A pause as Ohno pours them more wine. Sho’s fingers tighten on the stem of his glass. "I leave next month."
Next month. "So soon," Ohno mumbles. Sho hums in agreement and somehow, even though this means they still have another few Fridays before the month’s end, Ohno knows that this is going to be their last night together - perhaps it’s the way Sho’s eyes look scared and more lonely than they’ve ever been, or maybe it’s the way his body stiffens when Ohno shifts closer to him and knocks his knee against Sho’s - somehow.
"Spend the night with me." Sho’s head jerks at Ohno in surprise, but Ohno remains still, looks Sho in the eyes with surprising conviction. Sho’s never asked, and Ohno’s never tried to push him, but, tonight - "Spend the night with me," he repeats, "since it’s our last."
The words seem to hit home, and Sho swallows. "But-" A gasp as Ohno’s hand slides to rest on Sho’s lap. "I can’t."
Sho’s thigh twitches beneath Ohno’s palm, and Ohno shivers.
"You can," Ohno says softly.
Sho calls him Satoshi that night.
"I told you that you weren’t cut out to be a host. Who is this guy and what did he do to you?" Jun clicks his tongue as Ohno mumbles defensively. Jun rolls his eyes. "I regret ever telling you about Rendezvous. There are so many other ways to make quick cash." He sighs. "Maybe it’s time you stopped being a glorified prostitute," he adds lightly, but they both know Ohno can’t afford to leave now, not while he’s still paying off his debts.
At that, Ohno scoffs, gingerly setting down dirty dishes on the counter top. "Like you can say anything. I only have sex with them when the pay is worth it, to secure a customer base. You, on the other hand, take it up the ass because you like it."
Jun whips a towel at Ohno’s face. "Maybe," Jun glares, "but at least I’m not doing it for money." As if that makes a difference.
Ohno pauses minutely - perhaps, there is a chance it does - and flings a sponge at Jun’s chest.
Sho doesn’t come the next Friday.
At ten minutes past nine, Ohno pours himself a glass of champagne, and he gets back to work.
AN: Written because I haven’t been feeling great lately and just really wanted to write something. And because I still can’t believe I can’t find host Ohno fic. Have I been looking in all the wrong places? O_O
Also...I think this is the first fic I've written where everyone is gay. Oops lol though it's Arashi so perhaps it's fitting? ::shot::
Pairing: Ohno x Sho (Ohno x Nino, Ohno x Aiba, Ohno x Jun)
Rating: R
Word Count: 1800+
Notes: Host!Ohno AU. Just in case, I know that hosts aren’t prostitutes, but can Ohno help that he likes getting laid?
Summary: Moments in the life of an average host.
Friday Nights in Rendezvous
He comes every Friday night, nearly five minutes after Rendezvous opens. This Friday is like any other.
"This week was hell," Sho tells Ohno blearily, ordering the most expensive champagne on the list before flopping onto the plush and gaudy seat.
Ohno curls his fingers around Sho’s chin - he has such pretty, short-lashed eyes - "Tell me about it," Ohno says quietly, voice deep like the bass beat that pounds against every corner of the dim room, which is awash in raspberry filtered lights.
Sho sighs into his fingers, smudging his lips against the digits. He peppers sloppy little kisses on moisturized fingertips - coconut oil with a hint of lime tonight - and Ohno lets him.
Just like every Friday night, Sho talks about his week at work. How his boss thinks he’s too good looking and too young to be where he is now. How his subordinates - formally coworkers; things have changed so quickly - hate him and everything he has become. How he smiles when he doesn’t want to smile. How Ohno is the only one who will listen to him - even if it’s for a fee, Sho says with a sad little laugh, I’ll take what I can get.
And then, ten minutes past nine, Sho moves to stand. "Well, I shouldn’t keep you from your other clients. Have a nice night, Ohno-san."
"It’s Satoshi," Ohno always tries, and Sho just smiles awkwardly before stumbling out the door.
"The kid came again, didn’t he?"
Ohno looks up, "Is it that obvious?"
Nino slides into the booth, squeezing next to him. His ratty t-shirt brushes against Ohno’s suit sleeve, which reeks of cigarettes and expensive cologne. He steals a squid ball from the ramen he had just placed in front of Ohno, and smirks. "Of course." Ohno glances at him with a raised brow before digging in, and Nino’s fingers linger on the buttons on Ohno’s now-wrinkled collared shirt. "You always show up here on Fridays, which is when that guy comes, you’ve said. Plus, I can tell you didn’t get laid today." Nino’s hand trails up Ohno’s sleeve and rests in the curve of his neck just below his jaw line in a way that should be considered slutty, but since it’s Nino, is only normal. "And when you don’t get laid, you come here for your ramen fix and expect me to finish the job."
Ohno turns into Nino’s stubby fingers as they play in the tendrils of Ohno’s sweat-dampened hair. "As if you don’t like that I do."
Nino laughs, "Who said I didn’t? But I may’ve become too dependent on you." An odd sort of pause before Ohno shifts uncomfortably and Nino rolls his eyes. "Seriously, when are you going to make an honest woman out of me?"
"When you become a woman," Ohno says, and Nino scoffs. He smacks his lips loudly against Ohno’s and raps his knuckles against Ohno’s cheek.
"I get off in ten." A rasp in Ohno’s ear.
Ohno eats his ramen as he waits.
It took Sho a while to get used to being touched by Ohno. His fingers curled into fists the first time Ohno laid his hand on Sho’s arm, and his eyes widened the first time Ohno kissed him gently on the corner of his mouth. For the longest time, Sho gasped when Ohno’s thigh brushed against Sho’s on velvet cushions, when his lips hovered a little too close to Sho’s cheekbone, when he carefully brushed dark silky locks from Sho’s eyes.
He’s just like every other overpaid businessman Ohno’s seen come and go in the host club. And yet, he’s everything but. Sho looks extremely uncomfortable in that expensive suit of his and even more so the moment he walks into Ohno’s booth. When he glances at Ohno, he flushes and quickly looks away. When he touches Ohno, it’s gentle, careful, simple. (And Sho’s never taken it a step further, never even tried to suggest sleeping together - though Ohno’s sure that Sho’s considered it; Sho’s eyes are dark when he looks at Ohno, expressive and honest in a way Ohno hadn’t realized he appreciated.)
To Ohno, Sho is a breath of fresh air in a workplace steeped in seduction and empty compliments. He’s never had a client like Sho before, so honest and lonely and attractive. Nevertheless, their relationship is remarkably simple.
Sho talks, and Ohno listens.
The other hosts think it’s hilarious. "I wish I had your regular," they tell Ohno, "such easy money, you lucky bitch."
Ohno’s regular, that’s what they call Sho. As if his name is irrelevant. Sho, who is just a lonely businessman, who looks at Ohno with simply sad eyes. Sho, who is lonely, so very lonely. Who, to Ohno, may have become more than just another regular.
"Sho", Ohno tries to insist, but no one listens.
"He has a name," he tries again, and his boss tuts.
"Don’t get too attached," he warns. "Your client isn’t going to come here forever."
Ohno blinks.
But he’s Sho, he wants to say.
Most of his workdays are filled with old men, who get drunk and all over Ohno in minutes, who blather on about their miserable lives and pay extravagant amounts for Ohno’s attention. And on those days, Ohno just grins widely, fake in every respect. He chugs down another glass of wine and takes a deep breath as he lets them feel him up for an extra fee.
But some days, he’ll admit being a host has its perks.
The boy who ambles into Rendezvous one Tuesday is gorgeous. He has a strikingly charming face, with almond-shaped eyes and long sweeping lashes. His cheeks are flushed, lips pink and full, and Ohno wants to ravish him.
He can tell the other hosts feel the same way. But work comes first, and they immediately assess his value. "He looks poor," one says. "Doesn’t he know this place is just an excuse to rip off old gay men? I don’t think I could take so much money from that pretty face."
Another snorts, "Hell, I’ll take him if you don’t want him."
Ohno yawns, and a loud giggle floats into his ears. He looks up and from the entrance the man smiles, waves. "Hi!"
Fifteen minutes later, they are seated in Ohno’s booth, the man sprawled on the seat as if he’s been frequenting the joint for years. Ohno learns that the man is named Aiba, that he’s here because of a dare, that he likes strawberry smoothies and that Ohno has the cutest baby face. Apparently, when Ohno yawns, his nose scrunches up and it’s super adorable. At least, Aiba seems to think so.
They talk and drink rich wine for an hour or so, and by the end of the night, Ohno’s head is light and voice giddy with the artificial happiness that comes with too much alcohol. And Aiba’s a nice guy, probably better looking than most of his coworkers. His eyes are bright as the night wears down to a close, and Ohno doesn’t pull away from the hand that settles casually on Ohno’s hip, thumb sweeping across Ohno’s hipbone.
So when Aiba pulls out a platinum credit card and asks if he’s free for the night, Ohno accepts the invitation. He usually doesn’t, but he’d be stupid not to; it’s not every day Ohno gets propositioned by sex on legs. Aiba has long fingers that dig into the meat of Ohno’s thighs. His breath shudders when Ohno’s teeth scrape against his collarbone and he bites his lip as Ohno rocks into the warmth of Aiba’s body. He is enthusiastic as he curls his mouth over Ohno’s, and when Ohno wraps his legs around Aiba tighter for him to fuckingmovemygod, he groans a throaty laugh into Ohno’s lips. He is breathless as Ohno crawls from underneath him and as they lay side by side on the gaudy silken sheets of the love hotel.
And Aiba is beautiful when he finally falls asleep, and Ohno leaves.
One Friday, Sho sits down like he always does, but Ohno can tell that something is up. The Sho who is sitting in front of him is not the Sho he is used to. If anything, it’s the Sho who first walked into Rendezvous months ago, the Sho who couldn’t look him in the eye and sat rigid, like a stone. Today, there is no warmth in Sho’s usually bright eyes, and heavy eye bags sit on hollowed cheeks.
Ohno swallows. "Did something happen?" He reaches out toward Sho’s sleeve, but stops when Sho flinches, and folds his hands into his lap awkwardly as he waits for Sho to speak.
He is quiet for a long time, but Ohno’s a patient guy. Five minutes. Ten. Finally, Sho takes a deep breath, and his words are quiet, resigned.
"I’m being transferred to the Okinawa branch."
Ohno’s voice catches in his throat. "That’s…congratulations." Sho smiles painfully and knocks back a glass of red wine.
"Thanks," he says ruefully. A pause as Ohno pours them more wine. Sho’s fingers tighten on the stem of his glass. "I leave next month."
Next month. "So soon," Ohno mumbles. Sho hums in agreement and somehow, even though this means they still have another few Fridays before the month’s end, Ohno knows that this is going to be their last night together - perhaps it’s the way Sho’s eyes look scared and more lonely than they’ve ever been, or maybe it’s the way his body stiffens when Ohno shifts closer to him and knocks his knee against Sho’s - somehow.
"Spend the night with me." Sho’s head jerks at Ohno in surprise, but Ohno remains still, looks Sho in the eyes with surprising conviction. Sho’s never asked, and Ohno’s never tried to push him, but, tonight - "Spend the night with me," he repeats, "since it’s our last."
The words seem to hit home, and Sho swallows. "But-" A gasp as Ohno’s hand slides to rest on Sho’s lap. "I can’t."
Sho’s thigh twitches beneath Ohno’s palm, and Ohno shivers.
"You can," Ohno says softly.
Sho calls him Satoshi that night.
"I told you that you weren’t cut out to be a host. Who is this guy and what did he do to you?" Jun clicks his tongue as Ohno mumbles defensively. Jun rolls his eyes. "I regret ever telling you about Rendezvous. There are so many other ways to make quick cash." He sighs. "Maybe it’s time you stopped being a glorified prostitute," he adds lightly, but they both know Ohno can’t afford to leave now, not while he’s still paying off his debts.
At that, Ohno scoffs, gingerly setting down dirty dishes on the counter top. "Like you can say anything. I only have sex with them when the pay is worth it, to secure a customer base. You, on the other hand, take it up the ass because you like it."
Jun whips a towel at Ohno’s face. "Maybe," Jun glares, "but at least I’m not doing it for money." As if that makes a difference.
Ohno pauses minutely - perhaps, there is a chance it does - and flings a sponge at Jun’s chest.
Sho doesn’t come the next Friday.
At ten minutes past nine, Ohno pours himself a glass of champagne, and he gets back to work.
AN: Written because I haven’t been feeling great lately and just really wanted to write something. And because I still can’t believe I can’t find host Ohno fic. Have I been looking in all the wrong places? O_O
Also...I think this is the first fic I've written where everyone is gay. Oops lol though it's Arashi so perhaps it's fitting? ::shot::