So. That TommyInnit cooking show video sure is a thing that exists.
I love Ted and Schlatt, I'm a big Chuckle Sandwich enjoyer, and I think I did a fairly good job at capturing their characters, but they're still unfamiliar to write. Just ignore any "he would not fucking say that" moments
Title from Breakfast by Dove Cameron. This fic isn't set during breakfast time but the song fits very well and the title is objectively funny.
Pairing: Boosfer/Jschlatt, implied Boosfer/Ted Nivison
Tags: Kind of a Mafia AU, Forced Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, (Implied?) Vampires, Mild Blood Kink, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex (the tags are really bad because the setting is really bad, the fic itself isn't)
Words: 4603
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The car pulls into the parking lot of an unsuspecting diner with a name Boosfer has never heard of. Probably a front for something illegal anyway.
He gets out of the car when Ted does and follows him. They're out in the open, he's not restricted in any way, but it'd be useless to run: He'd be chased and caught and punished, and while he's done it before - at first in a genuine attempt to get away, then for the thrill -, his week has been bad enough already. This will be the last meeting before the day off Ted has promised him and he can't wait for it.
On their way to the entrance they cross a guy who has set up a whole wall of signs full of tacky, badly photoshopped images and slogans of "save the animals" and "go vegan now".
The guy jumps up excitedly when they walk past. "Hello! Good evening! Sir! Have you ever considered going vegan?"
"I don't think that would be a good idea for my health." Ted laughs even though the man won't understand the joke. Boosfer grins along, because he does get it, and uses the momentary confusion of the activist to slip past him into the diner.
Ted picks a table by the window and lets Boosfer scoot up the slightly sticky booth first before he follows, trapping Boosfer. He won't run (not today at least), but Ted still likes to make sure.
The diner is nearly empty so the waitress comes to their table immediately. "Good evening, what can I get for you?"
Ted turns to Boosfer. "You want anything?"
Surprised, Boosfer looks down on the menu that he so far ignored. He doesn't usually get to choose his own food, his diet is arranged to keep him as healthy as possible and to combat the frequent blood loss.
Maybe he's supposed to say he doesn't want anything, but he does. "Number eight, please. The chicken sandwich."
Ted smiles at him. Maybe he was supposed to want something.
The waitress notes his order, then looks to Ted. "For you, sir?"
"Nothing, thank you, dear." He smiles pleasantly. "Would you tell Schlatt his old friend Ted is here?"
The waitress gives Ted a once-over. Her eyes jump to Boosfer and he gives her a fake smile. It's the best he can offer. If she's smart, she won't ask questions.
"Of course," she says eventually, "That'll be a few minutes."
She leaves. Boosfer looks out the window. There is a horse, and the aggressively vegan guy from before is arguing with the man leading the horse. It's a bizarre scene and Boosfer is almost relieved when the waitress comes back and distracts him.
"Mr. Schlatt would like to meet you in his office?"
The tilt in her voice makes it sound like a question. She's obviously confused; Boosfer can't blame her.
Ted gets up. "Lead the way."
Boosfer follows them through an "Employees Only" door and down a flight of stairs, where the waitress points them towards a door at the end of the corridor. Ted thanks her and walks straight into the office without knocking. Boosfer closes the door behind him and takes the room in quickly - small, kind of cramped, a large desk in the center and a wall of bookshelves looming behind it.
Behind the desk sits a man, surprisingly young, surprisingly handsome (although the mutton chops sure are an interesting choice). He gets up from his chair with a big grin to greet Ted with clasped hands and a short hug. An actual friend, it seems.
Boosfer stops by the door, out of the way. It's where he stays when they're in the presence of people who are not aware with what Ted earns his money. He doesn't get away with it now though.
"Come here, Boosfer," Ted tells him when both men have settled down into chairs on opposite sides of the desk.
Boosfer knows better than to refuse. He kneels next to Ted, hands behind his back, head down. As a reward, he gets a brief pet over his hair, and then the men begin to talk.
And Boosfer listens.
Ted takes him to a lot of meetings. Some important, some dangerous, some - few - fun. Sometimes all he does is stand in a corner or kneel on the floor, most of the time he's there for entertainment, but he always listens. It keeps him sane: If he collects all this information, he has to believe he will someday be in a position to use it. That is what keeps him going.
This meeting though is shaping up to be quite boring. Ted and Schlatt really are old friends, they share anecdotes and jokes and references Boosfer doesn't get, and talk little about things that matter.
He learns some more about Schlatt: He manages a moderately sized chain of diners that serve as a front for a way larger money laundering business, and seems to have his fingers in some other illegal stuff too - auctions, smuggling, buying and selling things that were not acquired by legal means. None of it really interests Boosfer, but he files it away anyway.
But mostly, it's boring. His legs have fallen asleep. He almost wishes he'd get to do what he was brought here for, get it over with already.
"What about you, Ted?" Schlatt asks above, "How's business going?"
"It's going, man. People always want to fuck."
The chair creaks as Schlatt leans back in it. "They sure do. Is that why you brought the eye candy with you?"
Boosfer tenses but doesn't look up.
Ted laughs. "A gift, you might say."
"Do I get to keep him?"
Boosfer doesn't like how he says it, too eager, and he's relieved when Ted says, "No. He's too good to waste away as your personal toy."
"Fuck you, Ted." Schlatt doesn't sound too upset. Boosfer hopes it's all banter or he'll probably be the one to pay for it. "So just for today?" Ted must nod, because the next thing Schlatt says is, "Come here, boy."
Boosfer stumbles to his feet. His legs sting and prickle as blood flows again, and he has to suppress a grimace as he rounds the desk. Schlatt is sprawled in his chair, legs spread obscenely, a grin on his face. Boosfer hesitates, but when no-one tells him what to do, he chooses the easiest option and sinks to his knees in front of Schlatt.
Schlatt leans forward, grabs his chin to tilt his face this way and that. "Oh, you're cute," he mutters under his breath.
Boosfer lets himself be touched and moved and stays in the position he's been put in when Schlatt lets go.
"Gimme something to look at, c'mon."
Obediently, Boosfer spreads his legs a little - only enough to be noticeable - and pops open the top button of his dress shirt. He's always dressed nicely (or not dressed at all, no in-between) and while his clothes get torn off of him on occasion, he much prefers to do it himself.
So he arches his chest, makes sure the fabric splits open wider with each button he undoes, and keeps his eyes on Schlatt. Some men like the eye contact while he undresses - it makes them feel powerful, Boosfer guesses -, others prefer if he keeps his eyes down and pretends to be submissive. There's always a risk involved with making his own choices but he's learned quickly to guess fairly accurately what the men he serves want. If he didn't, he probably wouldn't be alive anymore.
Schlatt doesn't even notice. His eyes are glued to each new patch of skin he reveals and Boosfer slows down on purpose, draws it out until the last button is gone and he lets the fabric slip off his shoulders. Then he takes position again, hands behind his back, but keeps his head high.
He's long since gotten used to being looked at, can even enjoy it sometimes. He has a workout routine - again, to keep him healthy - and while he has no choice in it, he appreciates the results. He looks good and he knows it.
Schlatt hums. His hand drops to his crotch and he palms himself through his pants. "Well behaved," he comments.
Ted scoffs. "When he feels like it. He was a nightmare to break in, lemme tell you, and sometimes he still behaves like a real brat."
Boosfer grins shamelessly. The punishments are fun, sometimes.
"Aw, don't be like that, Ted." The grin on Schlatt's face is too sharp to match the tone of his voice. "Look at him."
Schlatt's free hand returns to his face, thumb brushing over his bottom lip. Boosfer opens his mouth, lets Schlatt lightly press on his tongue. Schlatt's grin widens, and Boosfer bites.
It's barely hard enough to hurt, and he lets go immediately when Schlatt reflexively pulls his hand away, but in some cases, it would be enough to earn himself anger and a punishment. If it weren't for Ted, a stunt like this might even get him killed.
As it is, he mirrors Schlatt's sharp smirk, now vanished beneath a curious expression.
"Told you." Ted sounds incredibly smug and Boosfer relaxes, knowing he won't get punished for this.
"Yeah," Schlatt drawls, leaning back again, "Since you seem to have so many opinions, boy, what do you want?"
"To please you, sir," Boosfer answers just like he's been taught. He puts no effort into making it sound believable.
Schlatt waves dismissively. "Yeah, sure. I know how Ted trains his whores. What do you really want?"
He could answer with another generic line, but this is shaping up to be fun. So he gives the truth. "The sandwich I ordered earlier."
Schlatt throws his head back and laughs. Ted chuckles too, behind Boosfer on the other side of the desk.
"Sure," Schlatt says when he's recovered, "I'll get you your sandwich. But I have another treat for you first."
Yeah, alright. Boosfer isn't surprised by that.
Without argument, he shuffles forward between Schlatt's spread legs. He trails his hands up Schlatt's thighs, palms him through his clothes, but moves on quickly. Teasing is usually not very appreciated, no matter how much fun it might be. He deftly undoes Schlatt's dress pants and pulls his cock out, gives it a couple strokes and then takes it into his mouth.
It's easy. He likes giving head well enough and he's used to it. Schlatt is a good size, nice girth, but most importantly, he's clean and well kempt. That's really all Boosfer asks for at this point in his life.
Schlatt pets through his hair but doesn't push or pull, just lets him do his thing and makes meaningless conversation with Ted. Boosfer works him up to full hardness and then for a few more minutes until he's pulled off by his hair.
He looks up at Schlatt. The man's composure is fraying at the edges, his deep brown irises tinged with maroon and his nostrils flaring as he tilts Boosfer's head back, exposes his throat. Involuntarily, Boosfer's pulse quickens and he closes his eyes with a whimper that's only half for show. He knows how this will end.
"You sure know how to pick 'em, Ted," Schlatt says, his voice rougher than before.
"He's a bit difficult, but still one of my best."
Schlatt loosens his hold. Boosfer opens his eyes and stares up at him, not once shying away from Schlatt's intense, hungry gaze.
"I can believe that," Schlatt says eventually, "He's one of your blood boys, right?"
"Yes, Schlatt." The eyeroll in Ted's voice is unmistakable. "You can have him however you want."
Boosfer whines again. This meeting has been decent so far, he's been allowed a certain freedom, he really wants it to continue like that. He needs this after the week he's had, full of meetings with business partners of Ted's that would've been twice his age even if they were human and treated him like an object. He's not even asking for good. He just wants not awful.
Schlatt lets go of him entirely. "Already fucking crying for it. Get up, then, and get naked."
Boosfer scrambles to his feet and tugs off his shoes and socks, fully aware of two pairs of eyes on him. If he were to turn and check, he's sure that Ted's eyes are a familiar bright red by now. As it is, he looks into Schlatt's darker ones, the color of wine or fresh blood, tracking his every move as he pushes down his dress pants. He's not wearing underwear - because why would Ted provide him with that - and while he's not exactly hard, it's blatantly obvious that he's interested.
Schlatt pats his thighs. "C'mere."
Schlatt's office chair is a huge, ugly thing, but it's comfortable and provides enough space for Boosfer to sit in Schlatt's lap and tuck his knees next to his hips and then grind them together.
He has gotten away with a lot today already, but he doesn't get away with this. Schlatt's hands, large and cold - Boosfer wonders when the last time was that he ate -, grab his waist and hold him still with inhuman strength. The first touch of a stranger never fails to make his skin crawl, but Boosfer sets his jaw and forces down the discomfort.
"Little desperate, huh?" Schlatt mocks, a glance down where Boosfer's cock is starting to fill out.
"Give him a break," Ted says behind Boosfer, "He's had a rough week."
"I'm not here to coddle your whores. That's your job," Schlatt complains but, again, it sounds more like friendly banter.
Ted returns it just as easily and genuinely. "But you're smart enough to listen when I tell you he's more fun when he's having fun."
Schlatt's hand moves from Boosfer's hip to his cock, strokes him. It's too sudden and too dry, but Boosfer throws his arms around Schlatt's neck and gives him a little moan anyway, to try and convince him that Ted is right.
All he wants is to get off because he wants to and because he feels good, not because some stranger forces it to make them feel better about themselves. Schlatt is still a stranger, and Boosfer still can't say no, but it's the best chance at decent sex he's had in a while. He'll take what he can get.
Schlatt hums. His other hand gets buried in Boosfer's hair, tugging his head back again. Boosfer swallows, his heartbeat picks up, he bucks into Schlatt's hand.
Schlatt's grin broadens. "Yeah, you might be right, Ted." He leans in, his nose cold against Boosfer's throat. "Damn, he smells amazing."
"I told you," Ted sing-songs, all smug.
Schlatt nips at Boosfer's collarbones with teeth too sharp to be human, like two little pinpricks. They don't break skin but it's close enough to make Boosfer's breath hitch and his hips jerk. Schlatt's hand wanders from his cock to his ass, dipping between the cheeks. Cold fingertips circle his rim.
"Did you prep, boy?"
"Yes, sir." That was before the two hour car ride, but he's taken worse with less.
"Hm."
The finger presses in. Boosfer tenses reflexively for a second before he can relax his muscles. The friction is kind of harsh, too dry, but he's loose enough, and he knows Schlatt knows it too. The finger pulls back, so Boosfer closes his eyes and prepares for a cock forcing its way in.
Instead, Schlatt calls out to Ted, "Tell me you got lube on you, for your boy's sake."
Fabric rustles, plastic crunches. "Sure. Catch."
Boosfer watches Schlatt catch and open the packet of lube and feels ridiculously grateful for it. Jesus, his standards are so low.
Schlatt shifts him in his lap and Boosfer obediently leans forward, resting his forehead on Schlatt's shoulder. The man is wearing some sort of heavy cologne that Boosfer doesn't really like but he's distracted from it by hands on his ass. This time, the fingers pushing into him are slick, and he moans with relief. It's been a while since he's gotten actual prep.
He's already loose enough to take two of Schlatt's fingers easily - so cold, so fucking cold - but it's appreciated nonetheless. His muscles warm up, he warms up, arousal building quietly in his body and drowning out the dread that comes from the knowledge that he couldn't say no even if he wanted to.
A third finger nudges in. Boosfer rocks into it, moans softly. There's a sharp inhale from Schlatt and an open-mouthed kiss pressed to Boosfer's throat, right on his pulse point. He tenses, expecting to get bitten right here and now, but Schlatt pulls away, fingers slipping out.
He wipes the excess lube on Boosfer's thigh, then there is the familiar feeling of a cock between his ass cheeks. Schlatt holds it steady with one hand, the other pulls on Boosfer's hair again. Boosfer's starting to think the guy has a thing for that.
"Go on, whore. Ride my cock."
Boosfer has long since gotten used to the name calling and the condescending tone, so he ignores everything about Schlatt except the stinging grip in his hair and the cock pressing into him as he shifts down.
He wanted not awful, but instead it's good, great even. The lube takes the edge off the stretch and Schlatt's cock drags nicely inside him, chases sparks up his spine. Schlatt's palm lies heavy on his hip; Boosfer is very aware that Schlatt could move him however he liked, Boosfer's weight is nothing to his inhuman strength, but Schlatt lets him set the pace and the angle. It's more autonomy than he usually gets with anyone but Ted.
"Yeah, you like that," Schlatt mutters low in his ear.
Boosfer moans, tilts his head back into Schlatt's hold. The grip in his hair tightens, stinging deliciously on his scalp, and so does the hand on his hip, forcing him still temporarily. Boosfer whines, this close to ignoring every kind of manners that have been beaten into him and demanding more.
But then Schlatt's lips press against his throat again.
"Hold on, boy," is murmured into his skin and Boosfer knows better than to ignore the warning. He braces against the chair, nails digging into the leather. Schlatt tilts his head a little more, licks over his skin, and then bites.
Boosfer groans at the sudden flash of pain as Schlatt's teeth pierce skin. A shiver runs down his back and he shifts uncomfortably.
As the pain makes way for a familiar, tingling numbness, he grows restless. The feeding doesn't do anything for him; if anything, it's close to the feeling of receiving a hickey, what with Schlatt licking and sucking on his neck. Schlatt keeps his head still but he again proves himself to be more considerate than Boosfer expects and wraps a hand around Boosfer's cock to jerk him off. Boosfer hums in pleasure and focuses on that, blocking out the weird sensation of Schlatt drinking his blood.
Eventually, Schlatt pulls back, licks over the spot once, twice - it feels tender, Boosfer knows he'll bruise, he always does - and then sits up with a satisfied sigh.
"Holy shit, that was good. He tastes just as good as he smells."
"Thanks," Ted says drily, "I know."
Boosfer opens his eyes as Schlatt's hands settle on his waist. Schlatt's eyes almost seem to glow a rich, dark red, but that's the only noticeable difference. His hands are still cold.
That's good, Boosfer knows: For there to be a significant change in Schlatt, he would have to take a lot more from Boosfer, more than he could safely give. But Ted never lets people drain him, something that Boosfer is infinitely grateful for. He's seen it happen. It's not pretty.
Experimentally, Boosfer shifts his hips, testing Schlatt's hold. He's not sure if his job is done yet - some of them, the older ones, often lose interest after they've fed - but he kind of hopes it's not: He's still hard, still horny. Still wants it.
"Don't worry, baby." The pet name briefly throws Boosfer off; Schlatt seems to be in an even better mood now. "I'm not done with you yet."
"Make sure he comes," Ted jumps in, "He's earned it. Other than that, you can do whatever you want with him."
Schlatt's lips curl into a smirk. "You want that, whore? Want me to fuck you and make you come?"
Boosfer bites his lip and looks away. For once, his No might be respected, but he doesn't say it. "Yes," he answers, because he wants, "Please, sir."
Schlatt's grin shows off his teeth, way too sharp, and the blood - Boosfer's blood - drying in the corner of his mouth. "Attaboy."
Schlatt lifts him off his lap like he weighs nothing. The easy manhandling never fails to make Boosfer feel small and powerless but in the right context - in this context - it also goes straight to his cock and he squirms. Before he can touch himself, he's turned and bent over the desk, and he knows what's coming. He splays his palms against the wood, spreads his legs. For a moment, he meets Ted's eyes - bright red, on high alert, watching him intently - and then he has to look away.
Schlatt presses against him from behind, wasting no time filling him up again, and then sets a rough pace from the get-go. His hips slap against Boosfer's ass, shoving him into the desk. He's been fucked like this only two days ago and still carries the bruises on his thighs. The edge of the desk digs into them relentlessly.
Boosfer moans anyway, dull pain overshadowed by pleasure. He rocks back into Schlatt's thrusts, presses his palms against the desk, arms straining to keep himself steady.
It's rough and fast and wipes Boosfer's mind blessedly blank. All he knows is the cock pounding him from behind, his own desperately hard and ignored and demanding to be touched, and then-
Ted pets over his head, brushes some hair out of his eyes, cups his cheek. All touches are gentle, deceptively caring - Boosfer knows it's a lie, but he's become addicted to it nonetheless. He tilts his face into Ted's palm, lets his eyes fall shut.
"Good boy," Ted tells him.
The hand falls to his neck, thumb pressing into the bitemark for a moment. Boosfer opens his eyes when the touch leaves him. He watches Ted bring his thumb, stained red with Boosfer's blood, up to his mouth and lick it off.
Boosfer drops his head with a moan, choosing to stare at the plain wood of the desk instead as heat rushes through him. Schlatt grunts as Boosfer clenches around him, rocking back into the harsh thrusts.
"Schlatt," Ted calls, "Make him come."
"I'm not one of your fucking whores," Schlatt spits between heavy breaths, "Don't tell me what to do."
"Stop whining, you big baby, and get him off."
"Please," Boosfer says, giving weight to Ted's words. He wants to come, wants to feel good, wants to just forget about the week of hell he'd had, even if only for a few seconds.
Schlatt gives it to him. A hand closes right around his cock and Schlatt fucks him harder, pushes him forward into his fist while the other hand on his hips pulls him back onto Schlatt's cock.
White-hot pleasure runs through Boosfer, grows, burns, and finally tips him over. He spills over Schlatt's hand and his elbows give out. Ted catches him before he can smash his face into the desk.
"Easy there," Ted says, supporting his head and shoulder.
Boosfer trembles, moans wordlessly as Schlatt continues to fuck him, rutting into him with enough force he might just bruise. The grip on his hip surely will.
"Fuck," Schlatt curses. He pushes in deep as he comes, fills Boosfer up, and then pulls out. The office chair creaks as Schlatt sits down heavily.
Boosfer tries to stand up straight but Ted's hand in his hair, so far only petting, turns into a harsh grip. Boosfer holds the position.
"Shit, that's a nice view," Schlatt murmurs.
Boosfer whines. Hot come trickles down his balls, the inside of his thighs, he can feel it.
"Yeah, but quite a mess."
Ted lets go of his hair but Boosfer doesn't dare move while he rounds the desk to stand behind him. Two fingers, warmer this time, swipe up the come on his thigh and then press into him. Boosfer flinches away from the raw sensation but quickly forces himself to stay still. This wouldn't be the first time Ted would decide to take him right after, or... that.
The cold, tapered tip of a plug replaces the fingers. It slips into him easily, settles comfortably in his ass, almost unnoticeable.
"I don't want him to ruin my car seats, after all," Ted comments cheerfully.
"Wouldn't want that," Schlatt agrees. He sounds very distracted. Boosfer presses his hot face against the cool wood of the desk.
He doesn't dare move until Ted orders him to his side. He doesn't look at Schlatt as he stumbles around the desk and then falls to his knees in his spot next to Ted. The plug shifts inside him, sending a flutter of sparks through his insides, and he bites his lip. Ted's hand settles on the back of his neck, heavy and warm and possessive, and inadvertently Boosfer relaxes.
"Damn, dude," Schlatt says, "No wonder you wanna keep him."
"Like I said, he's my best boy."
Ted sounds very smug and Boosfer preens in return, just a little. He's not so sure how he is better than the others, but he definitely is Ted's favorite, and he'll take any advantage that gives him.
"Bring him again when you come visit, yeah?" Schlatt says, "I'd love to fuck his mouth next time, make him cry like a little bitch."
Boosfer whines, caught between agreeing - he'd had fun today, alright - and protesting the goal to make him cry.
Ted laughs. "Sure. Sounds like he can't wait for it already."
He gets up and Boosfer follows. He retrieves and puts on his clothes while Ted and Schlatt exchange quips and goodbyes, and then follows Ted out of the office.
The plug is barely noticeable, it fits nice and comfortable, only big enough to keep him from leaking. More pressing than that, he's tired, the tension and resentment built up inside him over the week have drained away. He feels good, satisfied... and hungry.
"Uhm, excuse me, sir?" says a hesitant voice as they pass back through the main restaurant.
Boosfer looks up to find the waitress from earlier. She's holding a paper bag and glancing between him and Ted, clearly onto the fact that something's not right. Boosfer bites the inside of his cheek, clenches around the plug. If only she knew.
"Mr. Schlatt said to pack your sandwich to go, is that alright?"
"Oh, of course, thank you." Ted nods to Boosfer. "It's his."
The waitress looks at Boosfer again, brows slightly furrowed, but ultimately nods and passes him the bag. "Have a nice evening, sir."
Boosfer accepts the sandwich with a real smile. "Thanks. You too."
He keeps it together until they're in the car, and then he digs in, Ted watching him with amusement. It's awesome. It's almost a shame the whole diner is only a front, he thinks, because it's the best fucking sandwich he's ever had. And honestly, he'd do a lot worse than he did today for a sandwich this good.