Rip would have been proud. Len was taking on a new client. At least for the night. He doubted it would turn into anything ongoing, but when the request came through, he hadn't been able to deny his curiosity to agree for one evening's work.

"Barry Allen? The one the mayor's been talking about who's going to turn the city's criminal activity on its head?"

"That's the one," Sara had said over the phone. She always called if a request was pressing and from someone not currently on the agency's roster.

"He check out?"

"Squeaky clean. Medical records from only a couple weeks ago, probably for the move. Maybe even ordered by the mayor. Or maybe he just wanted a fresh start from Central City. That's where you're from, isn't it?"

"Don't change the subject, Sara. What else does his profile say?"

"I forwarded you the request. Have a look. He wants you for tonight, as soon as possible. I know you don't do last minute, but I figured it might give you a laugh. He didn't even select any backups."

Len sat at his computer and pulled up the email, which included a private link to the request form. It listed similar items as what the escorts put on their profiles for the catalog, along with the medical report and a photo—which caused Len to snort.

"That's the picture he sent?"

Sara could barely contain her snickering. "He didn't have a recent photo so he took a selfie."

It wasn't terrible, but the image was too close up to be flattering. Len could mostly only make out a dopey smile, dark glasses, and a floof of brunette hair. The kid looked even younger than his profile suggested.

Barry Allen was a twenty-five-year-old data scientist from Central City, about Len's same height, with a clean bill of health. Likes included lounge music and show tunes, sci-fi movies, and quiet evenings in—right up Len's alley—while dislikes only stated clubbing and crowds.

Then came the note at the bottom—anything goes. Bit of a misnomer, since escorts always had the prerogative to say no, but with the extra fee involved, it was a rare occurrence that what was requested was so outlandish they'd refuse. Usually, it fell more under embarrassing for the client to voice aloud than dangerous or depraved. Still, Len was intrigued.

"Tell him yes. I'll be there in thirty minutes."

"Seriously?" Sara said in surprise.

The profile was so innocuous for someone to request 'anything goes', and that photo, while ridiculous to say the least, made him wonder what the real thing might look like. Besides, Len had an empty slot to fill, and his instincts were rarely wrong.

"One of three things will happen when I arrive," he said, leaning back in his chair to stare at the profile. "One, he'll prove to be an insufferable, entitled brat, who made it rich young and wants to splurge his first Friday night in the city. Two, this is all an elaborate prank by some of his friends and he'll have no idea why I'm showing up at his door. Or three…he'll surprise me.

"If it's the first option, I reserve the right to leave if he can't be dealt with, if it's the second, I'll hardly be fazed and be on my way, but if it's the third," Len grinned as a flutter of excitement stirred in his belly, "who knows what the evening might bring."

"Ever the gambling man, Leonard?" Sara huffed a laugh over the line.

"Thirty minutes," he said again and hung up as soon as she acknowledged him.

Those thirty minutes were gone now, with two to spare as Len headed up the elevator in one of the nicest high-rise apartment buildings in Star City. It was possible he'd gone overboard with his attire for the evening, but regardless of how things turned out, he wanted to make the kid's jaw drop when he opened the door.

Len had chosen his nicest three-piece suit in blue, white shirt, navy and silver paisley tie, vest double-breasted but jacket single, with his heather-grey wool coat and a checkered blue and grey scarf to compliment the ensemble. He even had the tease of a red handkerchief sticking out of his top coat pocket for a splash of color.

Right on time, Len approached the penthouse apartment door and knocked twice. He heard the sound of scrambling feet on the other side but instead of a lurch of the door opening, there was a pause, like the occupant was second guessing himself before he slowly opened the door.

Len's first sight of the young scientist was already a pleasant surprise. The selfie hadn't done the kid justice, because there were dimples in that pale skin and sparking hazel eyes behind the thick-framed glasses. He wore his hair stylishly enough, but he was less successful in the fashion department given the button up sweater over his collared shirt. It matched fine, blocked off in four distinct colors of grey, red, burgundy, and black, but it wouldn't be gracing any magazine covers. The skinny jeans fit well though, and he was—hmm—only wearing socks.

"H-Hi!" the boy stammered with a quick blush spreading over his cheeks in rosy scarlet. Not an insufferable, entitled brat then. "You're from the…I-I mean, y-you're the…" He paused for breath. "Leonard, right?"

"Len," Len corrected, though a few clients insisted on using his full name. "Len Snart. And you're Barry Allen." It wasn't a question anymore; this was definitely Len's evenings in, sci-fi loving client for the night.

"That's me," Barry said, scratching the back of his head like he never spent even a moment out of motion. Len would have pegged him for a virgin being this jumpy if the kid hadn't put 'a few months ago' for his last sexual activity.

The poor thing was preoccupied enough with taking in Len's appearance that he didn't say anything else right away or step aside to let Len in. The jaw-dropping portion of the evening was a resounding success.

"Well, Barry, seeing as how you aren't wearing shoes, I assume we're not going out, so…shall I come in?"

"Oh! Of course!" Now, finally, Barry made room for Len to move past him into the apartment. "And no, we're not going out. I'd rather stay in, if that's okay?"

If that's okay. "I think you misunderstand how this works, Barry." Len refrained from betraying his own jaw-drop when he got a look at the apartment, with windows all along one wall that put his own view of Star City to shame, and an eclectic but personable taste level in decorating that he found instantly charming. The space had to be twice the square feet of his own apartment. "Whatever you want is okay. You set the stage, and I perform to your specifications. Sound fun?" Finishing a cursory survey of the apartment, Len snapped his attention back to Barry.

"Y-Yeah," he exhaled as he closed the door behind Len. "Sorry, I know I seem like a nervous wreck, I'm just out of practice with…human interaction, apparently." He laughed at himself and scratched the back of his head again, before jerking forward like he'd forgotten something important. "Let me take your coat."

"Thank you," Len said, allowing Barry to remove him of his jacket, scarf included, and hang it on a coatrack by the door. Adorable and polite. Len was won over by his decision to come here more every minute. "And you can relax, Barry. There's nothing to be nervous about. It's my job to make you feel at ease. Now, what will we be up to this evening if we're…staying in?" He gave the kid his most seductive glance, a flick of his eyes downward and back up to Barry's face with a crook to his smile.

Barry almost tripped over the bottom half of the coatrack, and Len had to wonder how far down that slender neck the scarlet went. "I-I kinda wanted to start with dinner?" Barry squeaked, then cleared his throat and made a hasty retreat toward the kitchen.

The skinny jeans fit very well.

"I finally stocked up on groceries and was craving something home-cooked," he said while Len followed him toward the long island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, "since the week was so busy and I kept eating on the go. I'm not good at too many dishes, but this one of my mom's is perfect. If you haven't eaten yet?" he looked back at Len with sudden worry.

Len had eaten. He always ate a little before seeing a client, as he never knew whether a meal would be included, but he'd kept to a light snack just in case. "I can eat. Smells lovely." It did. Tomato based, maybe a little cheesy, spicy.

Creasing his dimples further with his smile, Barry gave the pan on the stove a stir and turned off the burners. He had plates ready with salad portioned out, waiting to be joined by the main course. Behind Len to the left of the entryway was a quaint dining table with different colored chairs. Two glasses and a bottle of wine waited for them as well.

"It's this goulash, casserole thing," Barry said as he dished up a helping for both of them. "Goes really good with wine, and I got a few bottles as going away presents, and some welcome gifts from Smoak Industries and…" his brow creased on the way to the table, carrying both plates, "I think this one is from Palmer Tech? I haven't found the time to meet with their CEO yet. It's been crazy. Oh," he spun toward Len after setting the table, "I'm—"

"I know who you are, Barry. I read the papers." Len took a seat in the blue chair, leaving Barry to sit at his left in the red. "Must be exciting."

"It is!" Barry started to pour them each a glass of the no doubt highly expensive pinot noir. "Terrifying, but exciting. Everyone's made me feel really at home so far."

"Yet you're spending your Friday night alone?" Len had never been good at holding back his inquisitiveness. It's what kept him one step ahead of other people.

"I wanted something low-key. Quiet." Barry closed his eyes and breathed in as if to better hear the music playing that Len had almost missed—Sinatra. So far, Barry hadn't told any lies on his profile, and his lashes fluttered prettily against his cheeks when he opened his eyes. "Sorry, I'm trying to relax. I'm just bad with change, and there's been a lot of change in my life the past few months."

"More than moving?" Len asked, thinking it rather serendipitous that Barry was looking for balance while Len was looking to shake things up, yet both might find what they wanted in the same place.

Then a shadow darkened Barry's expression. "Yeah…" he said quietly—a nerve to be avoided, it seemed.

Len would have to pay closer attention. Not that he'd never had someone call upon his services to help them get over something difficult—divorce, being fired, hitting a milestone birthday while still single. Everyone had their hang-ups and reasons for wanting an escort instead of a blind date, but Barry remained an enigma as far as what he wanted and what 'anything goes' might mean.

Taking his first bite of the meal in front of him, Len couldn't wait to find out more.


"This is delicious," Len said, surprise in his eyes that made Barry think he meant it instead of just being kind. It was tough to know how to read the man since he might be especially proficient with acting to always give a client what they wanted. Maybe Barry couldn't trust anything he said or how he reacted, but he had the feeling that Len wasn't the type to ever do something he didn't want.

He was also far hotter in person than any pictures portrayed. Early forties, even with a dusting of grey in his closely cropped hair, but his face made him look five if not ten years younger. His features were flawlessly carved, blue eyes hypnotic next to tan skin. And the suit—it was like having dinner with a movie star.

Sure, Len's photos on the agency's website had been similar, showing him off in smart outfits and strong poses, but to have chosen him in a catalog one moment and have him here now barely an hour later was surreal. There hadn't been any contest among the other escorts in Len's age range once Barry found his profile. For one, they had similar interests, and Len didn't look anything like Harrison. He looked like the sort of prince charming fantasy man Barry would have dreamed up as a teenager.

"Th-Thanks," he stammered again, struggling to remind himself that there was no pressure tonight. He didn't have to impress Len, and nothing would happen that he didn't want. "It was always my favorite dish my mom used to make."

"She doesn't make it anymore?"

Barry coughed on his first bite and took a sip of wine to clear his throat. "Uhh…no." Why did he have to walk into that conversation within the first five minutes? He stared down at his plate. "After my parents…passed away, it was the only meal I could remember well enough to try to replicate. It took me years to get it right. My adopted dad and sister were really supportive guinea pigs though." He glanced up with a shy smile.

If Len was bothered to learn Barry was an orphan, he didn't show it. He remained neutral, not pitying, as he stared back at Barry steadily. "I'm sorry, I keep mentioning things that upset you."

"No, it's fine." Barry twirled his fork for another bite. "My parents have been on my brain a lot lately because of the job. I came up with the models to better predict criminal activity because of how they died. Robbery gone wrong. I was ten, almost eleven. I was playing in the backyard when it happened. Didn't even notice anything was wrong until I got hungry and went in for dinner.

"The thing is, there had been a rush of break-ins near our neighborhood. If someone had been paying closer attention to the data, they might have had more officers around, which could have dissuaded the thieves and… Well," Barry bowed his head again, self-conscious of how intense he could get on the subject, "there's no way to know, but I like to think that what I'm doing now might prevent what happened to me from happening to somebody else."

"That's very noble," Len said, smiling with an authenticity that was separate from his more seductive glances, which somehow made Barry even tinglier when their eyes met.

"Feels selfish sometimes."

"You're allowed to be selfish. Opportunities at Smoak Industries and Palmer Tech must be…profitable." Len raised the glass of wine before taking a drink. It was delicious and probably something Barry never would have spent money on himself.

"They do amazing things. I'm hoping to contract work with both companies. But they compete in certain areas, so it could get tricky. It'll have to be non-competing departments, and I'll have to be really careful about information I share. Assuming neither side tries to make me sign some crazy non-disclosure or says they won't let me work with the other. I don't think they're like that though, since they partner for charity work sometimes." Barry took another bite, another swig of wine, telling himself to stop being so chatty. He tended to ramble when he was nervous—or all the time really. "What about you?" he asked.

"What about me?" Len recaptured his smirk.

"Your profile told me basic things, but what didn't it say? Or is that inappropriate?" Barry had no idea what the precedent was being with an escort. "Am I not supposed to ask anything personal?"

The good humor in Len's eyes kept Barry's nerves from ramping up again. "What do you want to know, Barry?"

"Family?"

"Mostly just me and my sister. She's in Central."

"Mine too." Barry sat forward as he grabbed at the familiar thread. "My sister and her husband run this bar in Uptown, Impulse. Iris loves knowing everyone's secrets and being able to give advice, you know like that bartender who always has the answers to life's questions? I say she just likes to gossip," he chuckled.

"I'll have to see if my sister's ever been there," Len said. "Lisa works at the community center with the youth programs."

"That's cool." And so normal, not that Barry had a right to make assumptions just because Len was an escort. "It's obvious why I came to Star City. What about you?"

"Needed a change," Len shrugged. "Been here for years now."

"Maybe you can give me some pointers."

"Like where to find a good tailor?"

Barry laughed. Len must have noticed how much he'd been staring at his suit. "Please. I need to get some work clothes for next week before they realize I only have three blazers that are practically identical. My wardrobe's a disaster."

"I got that impression," Len nodded at Barry's sweater.

"Is this not good?" He'd spent more time picking out what to wear than cooking. Though compared to Len, he did look drab. "Shoot, I really like this sweater…"

"It's fine, Barry. Maybe more suited for a man a decade or two older than me."

Another laugh escaped Barry's lips. Len's teasing soothed him rather than coming across as at all mean-spirited. "No wonder Iris calls it my Mr. Rogers sweater." Undoing the buttons, he quickly shrugged it off and laid it over the back of his chair, leaving behind his simple black button down.

"Much better," Len said. "Maybe if you decide you'd like to see me again, I can take you shopping."

"Really?" Barry felt his face heat up at the thought. "That would be amazing."

"For now, I can give you some recommendations. You'd look nice in something more," he did that eye-glance down Barry's body that made him feel as if steam was about to pour from his ears like a cartoon character, "fitted."

Hastily shoving another bite of goulash into his mouth, Barry tried to avoid how terrible he was at taking compliments. Harrison had only praised him when he wanted something.

The faint music in the background changed to Ella Fitzgerald singing "Someone to Watch Over Me," one of Barry's mother's favorites, and he watched Len close his eyes this time with the pleasure of listening.

"Your taste in music makes up for the sweater," he said, all charm through his mild ribbing. "Part of what convinced me to accept you tonight."

"Yeah? I, uhh…left something out of my profile about that."

"Oh?" Len raised an eyebrow at him.

"I also like metal."

The shock of laughter that left Len sounded entirely sincere. "Showtunes from Mom, metal from Dad, I take it?"

"Actually, Mom was the Megadeath fan." The more they laughed and talked openly, the more Barry felt at ease, even discussing his parents, which was a rare occurrence. "I listen to metal when I work, Ella for relaxing."

"Fair enough. I won't consider it a deal breaker." Len even pulled a fork from between his lips and drank his wine with allure.

Barry was enamored by everything about him. Even if Len was only a fantasy, he was still tangible. "Your likes and dislikes were definitely what won me over about you. I mean, also because you're gorgeous. Uhh…" And then he had to go and put his foot in his mouth again. Barry drank more wine to hide how mortified he was to have said that. He should probably slow down considering what a lightweight he was.

Len was just easy to talk to, even though Barry got flustered whenever the man's eyes penetrated too deeply or he said something flirtatious. He was supposed to be flirting, showing interest, making Barry feel wanted. It's what he was paid to do. But even if it was all an act, Barry felt a genuineness in Len's smiles.

"You decorate this place yourself?" he asked.

"Yep. I need some rugs and artwork I think." Barry turned to take in what he'd done so far. He still wasn't pulling off the hip young tech genius he was supposed to be, but he didn't care. He wasn't a modern or art deco type guy; he preferred plush furniture in bright colors that screamed comfort. "Debating what to get next is a nice distraction from being alone. Wow," he cringed after saying that, "I am super depressing, aren't I?"

"Not at all," Len said. "You're new in town, just getting your feet. Not everyone is the easily sociable type. But I have to ask, Barry."

"Yeah?" He whirled to face Len again, wondering if now would be when the man asked what came after dinner, which Barry was sure he'd make a fool of himself explaining.

"You said sci-fi movie fan. What's your favorite?"

"Oh!" Barry brightened. "I don't know. Wow. I can only choose one? I guess I have a soft spot for The Fifth Element. Though Terminator 2 was the first movie that ever made me cry."

"Terminator 2 made you cry?"

"At the end, you know, when Arnie's being lowered into the molten metal and he does the thumbs up thing—cried like a baby." Barry was way passed being embarrassed by that. "I also have deep love for The Thing and Forbidden Planet."

"Leslie Nielsen Forbidden Planet?" Len's interest couldn't possibly be fake with the way his features smoothed out.

"It totally holds up, don't you think? Oh, but I hate Blade Runner."

"Well now," Len said as if scandalized, "I was all on board until that. I don't think we can be friends anymore, Barry."

How did this man keep making Barry laugh so easily? "It's so overrated. And boring. Visually gorgeous, I get it, and the message is great about 'what does it mean to be human', but the storytelling does not work for me."

"So it should have had the voiceover?"

"God no. Have you heard some of it? It's so much worse!"

"That I will give you," Len shared Barry's mirth with a sideways twitch to his smile, "but in general, we'll have to agree to disagree."

Cisco said the same thing. He worshipped Blade Runner.

It surprised Barry how quickly they ate during the conversation. And went through the wine—wow. Refilling both glasses, while he didn't want to overeat, he felt like he could use the extra liquid courage, especially when Len took a slow sip and then left his wine on the table as he stood.

Sammy Davis Jr. singing "Something's Gotta Give" taunted Barry over the sound system. Frozen in place at Len's approach, Barry's breath caught when the wine glass was taken from him and Len curled his fingers around the back of his chair to lean in close.

"Dinner was lovely, Barry, but you paid for anything goes," he said, low and lilting. "Now, I maintain the option to refuse anything I'm not up for, but I'm curious. Just what do you want from me to pay so much for a night?"

A shiver rippled through Barry, but it was pleasant, not something to make him lean away, he just didn't know where else to move. "It's nothing weird. I hope it's not weird…" He'd always been the weird kid. Orphan, nerd, gay, too skinny, too much of a doormat.

"Tell me," Len urged Barry with a sultry whisper. "What would you like me to do? Shall we move into the bedroom?" He cast his gaze to the open doorway at the far side of the main room. Barry had a real bed in there now. Simple, no headboard, with slate grey sheets. It was everything else in the room that was colorful, like the books on his shelves and the stained glass lamp on the nightstand.

"Y-Yes," he said and accepted the hand Len offered him.

The strength in the other man made Barry giddy as he was pulled from the chair. He was being led by the hand into his bedroom by the most attractive man he'd ever seen up close, and whose voice made him tremble down to his toes.

"Whatever shall we do once we get in there?"

"It's n-not…I-I just…" Barry was a stuttering, stumbling mess, a complete goon trying to find the words to explain.

"Relax, remember?" Len brought Barry's fingers to his lips and kissed them just as their feet crossed the threshold. He was gentle for all his strength, tugging Barry forward and turning them so he could coax Barry to sit on the bed. Backing up a step, he traced long fingers down the length of his tie. "Would you like me to undress for you?"

"Yes," Barry said, maybe too eagerly, but he'd decided before Len arrived that he wanted skin contact. "Just not everything," he added when Len started to loosen his tie. "Keep your underwear on. Please."

"You're assuming I'm wearing any," Len winked.

"You're not?!"

"Only teasing," Len rumbled with laughter. "We can start there."

The paisley tie came undone in two sure jerks on the knot. Coiling it around his hand, Len slid his jacket off next and set both items on the chair beside Barry's bed, where he also toed of his shoes. Then he started to undo his vest.

"I-I want…"

"Yes, Barry?" Len's voice saying Barry's name like that was making this harder—much harder.

"I don't want you to do anything unless I ask you to," Barry said in a rush.

Len paused as his vest fluttered open, picking up on the seriousness of the request. "Of course. Anything you want. Only what you want." His fingers undid the buttons on his shirt like a weaver pulling on thread. The crisp white stood out starkly against his skin, and the shade of blue in the vest and slacks complimented him like he'd been created with that color in mind.

Watching the slow, precise movements of Len taking off his clothes, Barry brought up a quaking hand to his own shirt. He had to undress himself; he'd never make it through this if Len offered to help.

"It's okay," Len said, the calm, even tone of his voice reminding Barry that it was, that he didn't need to shake or be afraid, even though no one had touched him since…

No, he didn't want to think about Harrison.

"Your speed, Barry. Your rules." Len opened his shirt like parting the curtain to a great prize and shrugged it from his shoulders to fall to the floor.

He wasn't the broadest of men, but if his features were carved from marble, then his body was just as impeccable, especially the touches of softness around his muscle tone and the diamond of chest hair that thinned into a line on its way down until it disappeared beneath the line of his underwear. No waxed six-pack—this was better. There was even the hint of a scar along Len's collarbone to remind Barry that he wasn't some statue come to life, he was real.

"Your everything," Len said.

Barry nodded, feeling empowered by his belief in Len and wanting everything that stood before him. The usual bashfulness over being too skinny didn't surface as he removed his shirt. He started to undo his jeans just as Len unbuttoned his slacks, and he had to wonder when he'd last seen another man in an intimate setting who wasn't Harry.

Seeking to banish any remaining traces of his ex, Barry kicked his jeans to the floor, impatient now for Len to join him. As soon as the other man was left in only snug boxer briefs, Barry scooted up the mattress.

"On the bed. Under the covers with me." He wasn't usually good at giving orders, but the way Len listened to him, grinned and slinked after him from the foot of the bed, made it easy to stay confident. Len didn't touch him when Barry yanked down the covers and they slid underneath together, not until Barry reached for him first.

Taking hold of Len's arms, Barry turned onto his side and wrapped Len around him like a blanket, snuggling back against his chest and feeling instant relief in the contact of skin. "Yes…like this," he said as if he'd been holding his breath for months.

He could feel that Len was hard, stiffening behind him against his hip. Of course he was; Barry was too, and he hadn't explained that he didn't want to go further. Part of him wondered if he should change his mind. He could, he knew. Len expected him to ask for more, but this…this was all Barry wanted despite the stirrings in his body. Len's warmth and kindness and comfort—things Harrison had only pretended to give him.

It felt better than Barry expected it to, and he clung tightly to the arms around his waist, choked by the emotions catching in his throat as he basked in having someone with him who wouldn't ask for more than he could give.


There were plenty of attractive men in the agency's catalog closer to Barry's age, even a few Len respected for their tastes aligning closely with his own, enough that Barry could have found someone younger with ease. He wondered if the decision to have him tonight was purely aesthetic or a conscious choice on Barry's part to have an older man, but Len had pried enough with questions during dinner.

Barry was such a fragile, sweet kid, blushing and endearing through it all, making Len want to please him all the more and give him everything he asked for.

"You smell even better than I thought you would," Barry sighed in pure bliss—just what Len had hoped.

Barry felt amazing pressed up against Len with his miles long legs and slender frame. The full line of their bodies connected, aside from the underwear, but Len imagined slowly smoothing his hands down Barry's taut stomach beneath the elastic, grinding forward and palming him until the kid begged for more. He couldn't do that yet though. He had to wait for Barry to ask, which made it all the more thrilling.

"What next, Barry?" he whispered beside the boy's ear.

"Nothing. Just this."

"What?" Len blinked, certain he'd heard Barry wrong. "Just this?"

"Mmhm."

"This is all you want?"

"Y-Yes…"

"Okay," Len said quickly when he sensed the tension returning to Barry's body and heard the worry in his voice, but he didn't understand.

This kid was beautiful and sweet, a good cook, a good conversationalist when not falling over himself with embarrassment, what could possibly be the reason he had no one to snuggle with? It wasn't Len's place to ask. Still, he was curious.

Holding Barry securely, Len offered tender strokes down his arm but no further. Pressed his cheek to the back of Barry's neck but didn't kiss him. Willed his body to come down from its excitement and held the boy like he'd been asked. He didn't know what to say, but he would never go against a client's wishes.

It wasn't long before Barry's shoulders started to shake, a sniffle and sharp intake of breath breaking the quiet. Len told himself not to recoil; he didn't want Barry to think this wasn't okay, but he didn't know how to handle someone breaking down in his arms who wasn't his sister.

"I'm s-s-sorry," Barry's voice shook with his body, "I don't know why I'm…crying…"

All Len could do was shush him, nuzzle closer, and let his hand travel past Barry's elbow down his forearm—

A flinch pulled Barry's arm out of reach. "S-Sorry. Old injury. It's fine. It doesn't hurt."

It was not fine. Len knew what this was now and it hardened like cement in his gut. Someone had hurt Barry. Deeply. Even physically, judging by that flinch. What monster had damaged him so much to cause this, Len wondered?

He shouldn't be the person anyone relied on, especially not when they were dealing with true, visceral trauma. Barry needed something more than him, a friend, a therapist, not an escort in his bed. But who was Len to tell someone what they needed when Barry had asked for him?

When Barry pulled Len's hand back to reconnect on his forearm like an apology, like he needed to apologize, Len couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"You don't have to answer, Barry, but…why? Why this?"

"Because I'm alone," Barry said, small but steady, like he wanted someone to hear this, though it was clearly still easier facing away from Len as he said it. "Because my friends and family are hundreds of miles away and I needed something tonight no one else can give me. I've always been terrible at dating.

"There was someone…a long-term someone, but he never gave me this. He never let anything be on my terms. I'm lonely without him, but I'm scared to go out. I don't want to fall into that same pattern and end up with someone else who only wants to use me for sex. Sorry!" He started as if he'd said something terrible. "I don't mean—"

"I'm not offended, Barry," Len cut off the kid's reaction to assume blame. "No one uses me for sex, I give it freely. There's a difference. If this is all you want, then this is all we need to do. But next time, you don't have to pay extra."

"I don't?"

"This isn't exactly what is meant by 'anything goes'," Len smiled against Barry's skin, and the boy's tension eased away in the wake of it.

"Oh," he said through a chuckle. "Iris says it's Ugly Duck Syndrome. I met him after I…blossomed, I guess? I was so used to being a gangly dork in high school that no one wanted, I didn't know how to have confidence with people once I was—and this is her talking not me—hot."

"You are hot. You're stunning."

"You're paid to say that," Barry murmured. Normally, when someone shot that phrase at Len, he got angry, but Barry hadn't said it with any derision toward him.

"I'm paid to be here," Len said, "but I say what I feel. Your terms. Your wishes. And I am happy to oblige, Barry. But when it comes to my opinion, I will always be honest with you."

After a moment, he didn't think Barry was going to respond, but then his voice filtered up with a softly whispered, "Thank you."

Barry's sniffles faded as Len cuddled him close. Anything amorous between them tapered off, leaving only the quiet and two connected bodies lying in tandem.

Eventually, Len felt Barry's breathing steady, and he knew the kid had fallen asleep. He never slept with a client unless he was staying the night, and that hadn't been part of Barry's request. Len figured he'd give him a few hours, but only twenty minutes passed before Barry stirred.

"Sorry!" he yelped as soon as he roused and shifted in Len's arms to face him. He'd never taken his glasses off, so they sat askew now, and one side of his hair was flattened. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"You must have needed it," Len said, cupping Barry's fetching face and caressing a thumb down his cheek, which brought out a fresh blush.

"You don't have to stay the night or anything," Barry leaned into his hand even as he averted his gaze. Then his eyes went wide. "Is that extra? If I ever wanted you to?"

"It is. Still less than 'anything goes'."

"Right," Barry laughed, extracting himself from Len's hold so he could sit up. He appeared refreshed and less shaky when he reached to fix his glasses. "Thank you. I feel a lot better now. I needed this. I know we've been dancing around the subject, but…could this be a regular thing? Do you do that?"

"I do that." Len sat up next to him, unused to sharing a bed with a client when both of them still had an article of clothing on. "I'm very picky about who I take on as a regular, and I only have one slot available at the moment."

"Oh…" Barry looked down dejectedly at his lap.

"So absolutely, Barry," Len stressed that he meant that as a yes, "we can do this again. Since you were accepted onto the roster, you have the direct line to my handler. Call her to set up the sort of schedule you'd prefer and we can go from there. As long as I'm free, I can see you as many nights a week as you want—and can afford." He kept his tone light to put Barry at ease.

"Okay." Barry smiled so delightful and boyish. "I'll do that. I should let myself settle in more this weekend anyway."

They fell into simpler conversation after that as they got up and began to get dressed. Soon, Barry was walking Len to the door, but he paused at the computer desk to write a note for him.

"For your wardrobe. Ask for Carter. He has a good eye. Don't let the smugness deter you. Once he knows who you are and that you're willing to spend, he'll treat you well."

"Thanks. I'll…see you soon?" Barry asked, hovering after Len on his way out, still unsure of himself and blushing scarlet.

Scarlet—Len's newest name for the books.

"Looking forward to it, Barry."

He meant it. He meant everything he'd said to Barry during their evening together. But he had no idea what had possessed him to allow such a change to his routine. Len never took on clients like Barry—he didn't think there were clients like Barry—but especially when this case meant that Len might not be the healthiest outlet for him, yet he couldn't bring himself to disappoint the kid and turn him away.

Len had said he needed a change in his life. Maybe helping Barry was exactly what they both needed.


Falling against his door after Len left, Barry couldn't stop grinning. He'd fallen asleep with a stranger who'd obviously been thrown by his requests, but he hadn't made a complete fool of himself. And it had been so long since Barry felt that content in someone's arms.

When he scheduled Len for the night, he hadn't intended to make this ongoing. Money wasn't a problem, especially if Barry's needs fell under the normal fee for Len's services, but he couldn't let this go on forever, just…a few more nights to help him with the transition, so he didn't freak out and call Harry in a fit of desperation. Len's company was preferable, and Barry could use him for a few events coming up, not always just to…snuggle.

He was a good snuggler though, strong and warm and understanding. Barry wished he hadn't broken down like that, wished he hadn't flinched when Len's touch moved to the arm Harrison had bruised, but with this first night out of the way, he already felt more comfortable in his own skin than he had in a very long time.

Barry might be out of his mind for hiring an escort on the regular for snuggle sessions and dinner dates, but Len was like a dream and Barry was not ready to wake up yet.


TBC...