What is it each of us are searching for?

John slunk back to his own room, a flash of worry for Karkat almost made him turn around but he decided against it. He closed the door with a sigh and picked up the full bag that was sitting on his desk. John emptied the contents onto his bed, sorting out the various sex toys and articles of clothing. He considered pleasuring himself in waiting for his next client, but with a yawn he decided his time may be better spent sleeping.

...

A couple hours later, John glanced at the digital clock above his desk and swallowed. It was almost time for his late night client. He quickly stood and grabbed some tighter fitting clothing, getting dressed. After being here for so long, the clothing he had gotten used to, even the strange men that would come into his room; but, the one thing that John could never shake off was how detached from regular life he had become. It seems that his entire reason for even doing this in the first place was a far away memory, or a dream even.

He heard the knock on the door, a triple knock signaling he had thirty seconds. John wondered who was on patrol, probably Ampora considering it was him he was going to have to cover for on Monday morning. Bastard probably is putting in extra hours to smooth things over with The Boss... John thought to himself as he stood and leaned against the wall, most clients preferred to shove him to the bed rather than just get down to it.

John could tell it was a man whom had entered from the room by his footsteps, the lights had been turned off due to the client's request. It was rule to never know your client's name, and most of them preferred to not have their requests see who they are. John suspected they were public figures, or rich CEO's every now and then, judging on the amount of fancy clothing they had discard.

Every once in awhile, it was requested to keep the lights ever so slightly lit in order for John to perform a teasing act or for rather interesting foreplay. He suspected that things such as bondage or much foreplay cost extra in the final bill, so things like that were rare. John knew that this night was just like many others; down to the point.

The stranger wasted no time pinning John to the bed and stripping him of what little clothing he had. A swift bite to his neck told John that he was allowed to react with this client and moaned softly. He felt the pleasure as it rippled through the stranger's body and John heard a belt being unbuckled and swiftly tossed aside.

John was thrown more so onto the bed, the man then climbed on top of him. John gasped faintly, his erection now being groped by a firm hand. "Come on, you little slut... moan for me." He growled under his breath and shoved a finger roughly inside of John. Though this barely phased John, he faked a surprisingly convincing moan that turned his client on more.

In no time, the stranger had flipped John onto his stomach and his length was fully inside of John; this did affect the young adult and he loud moan of pleasure. The man held onto John's hips and started up a tempo. He hit John's prostate dead on the first time and John whined pathetically, at his client's mercy.

The client let out a gruff moan, speeding up his thrusts as he panted heavily. In slamming into John, he nearly lost it in his crazy moans to please the man. His thrusts were heavy and John rarely felt this much force inside of him. John felt himself getting close, and tried to hold back as much as he could.

The man's fluid filled John, and he released as well letting out a cry of pleasure. John lay there, panting as the man withdrew and collected his clothing. Without another word; the man exited the room. His time chunk with John was over.

The young man was always silent when it was over, as if there was a lingering feeling of guilt; almost disgust. But no, the disgust had gone away after a while. He had rationalized that this was suppose to feel good, it was his body's reactions and not his own. He sometimes felt as if he separated body and mind all together to create this disgusting boy of whom he despised.

-

"Are we prepared for our... new hard worker, sir?" Slick spoke carefully, knife in hand as he stared at the poker cards strewn on the table. Slick's boss had a peculiar fondness for poker, possibly because he was a heavy gambler was always his suspicion. Though, these particular cards had not been played with in years. They had many tears in them, much of which Slick had done himself when stabbing the table angrily, to which he always regretted.

A short nod from his boss told him to shut up. He was looking over a spreadsheet of that month's income, and despite Slick's desperate attempts to smooth things over his boss' expressionless face stayed the same; looking more displeased by the minute.

Slick swallowed and spun the knife between his fingertips, he felt nervousness start to rise in his gut. Sometimes, there was just no class in his line of work. He remembered the good old days when if somebody didn't perform up to his standards off to the nearest ditch he went. But, in this case the man not meeting demands was lick himself, and he wasn't particularly fond of dying.

His boss looked up from the papers a displeased look in his eyes nearly sent chills down Slick's spine. If Slick had any sort of emotion related to fear, his boss would be the personified version of it. The Boss stood up and walked to the window, staring out over the darkened city.

For a split second, Slick was back in the underground. He was part of his old gang; his old companions playing poker as usual. The room was lit with a single lightbulb, they were speaking of their most recent heist.

His boss turning his head to watch him with an icy glare snapped Slick out of his memory; he knew the punishment for his actions. Slick stood from his chair and laid his arm out on his boss' desk, he carefully placed a hand over one of the Ace of Spades. Expressionlessly, he pulled the glove off of his drew the knife with his left hand; not his dominant hand but it would have to do. He knew that this time it would not be able to heal, it would render him immobile this time and for a split second he almost considered disobeying his boss. Slick brought the blade down deeply into his hand, it pierced through to the table sounding and made a sound as it hit the wood. His blood poured out all over the card, staining the wooden desk.

This place is lacking a considerable amount of class... Slick thought to himself.

John woke Monday morning to Gamzee pounding on his door. He groaned and mumbled that the door was open as he quickly slipped into his casual boxers. "Hey, mother-fuckin'-Trickster." Gamzee chuckled and barged into the room, "Man bro, I had the most mother fuckin' miraclous night."

John rolled his eyes and started gathering his things together. "Let me guess; you had sex." He sighed and stood directly in front of the idiot, a bored look across his face. John was at least two heads shorter than Gamzee, but he gave not a single fuck.

"Yeah bro you stalkin' me or something?" Gamzee blinked and tilted his head, almost keeling over sideways.

John steadied him. "No. Just a wild guess." He leaned Gamzee against his door. "Look, I need you to cover for me this morning. I have to get to class, my roommate is starting to get suspicious of where I go each weekend."

Gamzee took a moment to process. "You know I'd gladly cove for you, mother fucker. I just don't think slick will like that very much."

John sighed. "Look; it is worth a try."

Karkat Vantas had an extremely rough night. His new bed was uncomfortable, and his unfamiliar surroundings would have scared him had it not been for his shit-ass bed. He knew that everything was probably better furnished upstairs but the young adult shuddered to think what lengths he would have to go in order to achieve having more desirable living quarters.

He finally shoved off of the uncomfortable bed and stretched, contemplating what the hell there was to do considering he was no longer allowed to leave. Karkat remembered that person from yesterday telling him about some sort of gaming room upstairs with a television. Having only one pair of clothes, he slipped into them and headed upstairs.

Karkat heard a commotion coming from the main room on the top step and he slowed, deciding it best to wait and listen.

"...Little fuck trying to get out of doing your own job. If you were here all the time I wouldn't be in the absolute mess I am in!" Karkat recognized the voice as Slick's. "No, you will stay!" There was a thumping sound and Karkat believed whoever was being yelled at had been tossed to the floor.

Karkat lost control and stormed upstairs. He saw that John, Trickster or whoever the fuck had been thrown to the floor, someone was walking down the hallway but Karkat was much too pissed to notice. "You could just tell the ignorant fuckass whatever the fuck it is you are trying to pound into his apparently microscopic brain instead of being a completely inept jar of fuck-paste about it!" He shouted, taking Slick by surprise as he stood in front of John. Silence fell on the air, and the scene unfolding became a staring contest.

A unnatural rage started to engulf Slick, it consumed what was left of his presumably classy and reserved personality into a cold hearted killer. He knew this feeling, as it was all too familiar to him. It was the feeling of freedom, of being able to let go and do as he pleases. In this state, no one could stop him and in seconds Karkat was swiftly and roughly pinned to the wall with a knife firmly against his neck.

Without time to react, Karkat quickly tried to calm himself and failed. He let out a gasp, the blade slicing lightly into his jugular. Oh god oh god oh god I am going to die oh god oh god.

"Trickster." Slick growled, making Karkat shiver. "Get up. Your client arrives in twenty minutes. He has requested for you to come down to the bar area. He may be interviewing you to see if he will become a permanent client of yours, do not fuck this up. Now, GO." At his anger, John jumped to his feet and scurried away like a frightened rabbit. "And you..." Slick muttered, watching Karkat with hatred in his eyes. "How's about we move you upstairs?"

A lovely melody woke a young man whom had been sleeping. He groaned and listened to the tune, boredly staring up at the ceiling with his unusually brown almost orange eyes. As the song neared its end, he knew it would just repeat to annoy him so he groggily sat. As he pushed himself from the bed he felt liquid run his down his thighs, not so much as giving a single fuck he pulled on a pair of tightly fitting pants and decided to freshen up. He ran a hand through his pale blond hair and opened the door with a steady yawn.

He blinked and looked down the hall when he heard yelling coming from the main room. The young man shrugged and headed off towards the lavatory. Upon opening the door into the steamy shower room, he quickly found that he was not alone. Neritic... he thought silently.

"Puppeteer." A voice came from behind a running shower, a familiar moron with a purple stripe in his hair poked his face out from behind the curtain and surveyed the young man pervertedly. "I wwas wwondering if-"

'Puppeteer' swiftly walked past him and gave the one speaking a good punch to the face. With a yelp, the moron fell backwards in his shower stall. "DIRK." 'Neritic' growled and Dirk chuckled casually walking down to his usual shower stall. "Fucking bastard..." He heard him foe growl and exit the shower room. Now, finally alone, Dirk was left alone to his thoughts. Just another average day...

Mich later, nearing mid day, Dirk exited the wash room with a towel wrapped around his waist. He started down the hall towards his room and he found Gamzee waiting for him. "Slick wants ya." He nodded to Dirk, his eyes flashed with something that could qualify as close to being sober as Gamzee could get. "Somethin' about a new guy."

Dirk gave Gamzee a blank stare and nodded his head faintly to how he understood. Gamzee chuckled and headed off to the game room. Dirk quickly got dressed, pulling on a regular black tank and dark jeans. He rubbed his eyes and was at Slick's door in no time at all. he gave a knock.

"Ah.. yes, Puppeteer, come in." Slick's voice came from inside of his office, and Dirk opened the door.

John grimaced, not wanting to leave Karkat and yet he walked back to his room quietly. He heard someone yell out Puppeteer's name and flinched, just glad Slick was too busy with Karkat to track down who had uttered their proper names. John swallowed. Fifteen minutes until five. He was going to have to get cleaned up pretty quick in order to head back to the dorms... Not even time for a quick flush... He groaned, the feeling of cum in his clean pants and boxers was not his favorite thing to have to sit through class with.

John grabbed the correct clothing for the job, and prepared himself for his first time client. Most times, his first meeting with his client they wanted to get a taste of him. He was hopeful he could wrap this up quickly.

He headed downstairs. Table fifteen... Table fifteen... He murmured to himself, scanning the room. John walked over to where he knew the table was and stopped dead. The man sitting at the table was wearing a gray suit and tie. He was a tall, slender man with a vacant expression on his face. A hat shaded his eyes and he was twirling his fingers.

"D-Dad...?"

"Jake..." Dirk muttered, a look close to surprise was written all over his face.