Reversal of Fortune by InSilva

Disclaimer: they are so not mine. You think they'd want to be?

Summary: Set in "Body and Soul" verse. Companion piece to "Fortune" written from another perspective and it will help to read "Fortune" first. Warnings for inexplicit explicit contained within.

"You look stressed."

Danny's mouth twitched. He certainly felt it. Wasn't supposed to be showing it though.

Ike Bassett looked at him sympathetically as if reading everything that Danny wasn't saying. There was a moment of consideration and hesitation and then Ike dug into his wallet and found a piece of paper.

"Borrow a pen and a notepad?" he asked and curious, Danny pushed both over towards him.

"Now, this," Ike said as he copied out a name and a number, "this is a guaranteed stress solution."

Danny took the paper from Ike's outstretched fingers with a smile. He didn't need phone numbers. He didn't need any girls-

"It's not a girl," Ike said as if he were reading his thoughts.

Danny's gaze dropped down to Ike's scribbled note. "Rusty Ryan?"

"Yeah," Ike's eyes lost focus for a moment. "Yeah." He shook himself. "Say that I sent you. He knows me as Jerry Curtis."

"I still-"

"Trust me, Danny. You cannot go through life without meeting Rusty Ryan."

He wanted to say that he'd managed it so far. And also, that he was not into men. Some of that must have shown on his face because Ike leaned across the desk and laid a hand on his arm.

"Imagine the most intense, mind-blowing sex you can think of. And multiply it by ten."

"Ten?"

"A hundred," Ike corrected himself. "Do yourself a favour, Danny."

He glanced down at the name and the number.

"Maybe I will," he said and Ike sat back, satisfied.

"He'll ask you for a room and whisky and chocolates," Ike told him.

"Chocolates?"

"Truffles are his favourites. Don't forget them," Ike warned. "The pout is almost worth it but while you go and find a box, that just cuts down on how much time in the sack you get."

"Thanks, Ike." Danny tucked the piece of paper into his pocket. "Now, back to business."

He wrapped up with Ike about five and as Ike closed the office door behind him, Danny pulled the bottle of malt from the drawer and poured himself a glass. He drank it slowly, letting the warmth trickle down his throat and sighed. Work had been busy and demanding and draining and he couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a breather. And for a client to notice…well, that wasn't clever in the least.

The piece of paper was burning a hole in his pocket. He pulled it out and stared down at the name. Rusty Ryan. Ike had spoken of him like he was an illicit secret. The best kept secret in the world. The conventional within him baulked at the thought of sex with another man. He'd never…and he couldn't think that he would ever…and the mechanics of it all… And yet… He looked down at the piece of paper. He thought about what his family would say if they knew he was contemplating what he was contemplating. And then he reached for the phone.

The phone the other end rang and rang and rang and Danny was on the verge of hanging up when it was answered.

"Rusty Ryan."

The voice was quiet and soft and self-assured.

"Hi," he said awkwardly and wished he sounded more confident. He hesitated, still not certain this was the smartest move he was making, and then added, "You were recommended to me."

The man still wasn't saying a word and Danny felt his nerve shredding. "So how do we do this."

He might have been imagining the sigh the other end and then he heard:

"You need a hotel room. What part of town are you calling from?"

The Goddard Suite at the Hyatt Regency cost $1,000 a night. The whisky and the chocolates had been the best he could find. Now, he was sitting in the easy chair, the $1,500 on the side next to the truffles and the adrenaline was flooding through him. Danny felt like he had on his first big case. Heart pounding, mouth dry, mind racing and eight o'clock couldn't come soon enough and at the same time, it was going to come too soon . When the knock came, he swallowed hard, demanded self-control from himself and opened the door.

Blond. Blue eyes. Beautiful.

"You're on time," Danny approved.

"I'm on your time," the man – Rusty – clarified and he walked past him into the room.

Danny watched the grey suit and the claret coloured shirt worn with style, the easy grace and poise of the man and he had to remind himself to breathe.

"You want a drink?" he asked, shutting the door.

Rusty had already found the bottle. "You listen."

"I do," Danny couldn't keep the smile out of his voice. "Chocolate's on the side."

The blond made his way to the couch and sat down and Danny crossed the room and took the malt from him. He poured two glasses and he was pleased that his hand wasn't shaking as he passed the drink over. He settled back in the chair and sipped the whisky and he felt…well, it wasn't nerves any longer. It was all about the anticipation.

"Do I call you Rusty?" he asked.

"You do. And what would you like me to call you?"

"Ishmael."

The answer fell out of him immediately, naturally and by the grin on the other's face, he got it.

"Fair enough." There was an appraising look in the other's eyes. "This your first time, right?"

Danny bought time. "What makes you say that?"

There was an almost-shrug.

"You don't look like you have to pay for it."

"Well, you don't look like you need to provide it."

Again, the answer. Snappy banter and it felt-

"We're both rich and good-looking. You are rich, aren't you?"

Money. He was buying this man. He was buying this man for sex. Focus, he told himself.

"Money's on the side with the chocolates. Truffles, if you're interested."

"Nice. You buy these for all your men?"

"You're my first, remember?"

He couldn't help himself. The words came flowing out of him and the words came flowing back.

"Oh, yes. I will spoil you for others."

He was looking at sex appeal. At pure sex. At a mouth that was…and a body that could…

"We'll see."

There'd been more questions. More answers. More banter. It was like an exquisite foreplay and Danny wondered if Rusty felt the charge in the air. Eventually he could stand it no longer. He stood up and took the glass from Rusty's hand.

"You that good?"

There was smoky intensity looking straight back at him. "Let me show you."

Somehow they got to the bedroom and Danny couldn't wait any longer. He covered Rusty's mouth with his. Just for a moment. And then pulled back and watched as Rusty started to undress. Fuck, he could lose himself watching that. Like Botticelli's Venus. He forced himself to keep control and stripped.

They were stood there, naked and looking at each other and Danny licked his lips.

"What…" The words wouldn't form. Damn, but this was… "What…"

"Let me show you."

He didn't last. He couldn't last. He'd felt close to coming since Rusty had appeared at the door. Now, sitting on the edge of the bed, Rusty's head between his thighs, Rusty's mouth wrapped round him, Rusty's tongue licking and probing and teasing… Release was sudden and needed and it shuddered through him.

"Wow," he managed, blinking through the stars exploding in his head. "Wow. You're good."

It was inadequate. Rusty was…amazing. It was unlike any blowjob he'd ever had. He felt fingers stroke his thigh and then he heard "Lay back" and he did so. Eagerly. Willingly. And then the fingers moved in between his legs, caressing him and he felt himself harden.

"I'm clean," Danny protested as Rusty produced the packet of condoms and he felt gauche and stupid as Rusty rolled his eyes. He was with a professional. It was like suggesting a complicated court case was a smash and grab job.

He almost whimpered with excitement as Rusty used his mouth to apply the condom. And then Rusty climbed on top of him as he lay on the bed and pushed himself slowly, agonisingly slowly, down on to him. Down. And up. Down. And up. Too slow. He reached behind Rusty and grabbed his ass, looking for purchase as he thrust himself frantically into Rusty.

Rusty stopped and ran a finger down his cheek and down his chest.

"There's no hurry, Ishmael. Let me."

Fuck. The voice was honey. He groaned softly but allowed Rusty to start the gentle rhythm all over again.

It was over. It had been everything Ike had promised and it was over. They were through in the other room and he was watching Rusty tuck the money away and pick up the truffles and he was thinking about the body and the mouth and the tongue and-

"What?"

"Thinking I'd look you up again."

He was fighting hard not to get hard again at the thought of it.

"Yeah. I might let you do that."

He could see why Rusty charged what he charged. He understood why men paid it.

"You say that to all your men?"

"You make me sound like a fucking whore."

There was a pause and Danny had to pick up on that one.

"Well, you are a fucking whore."

"I'm a fucking exceptional whore," came the answer and then Rusty was gone.

Danny gave it a week. Two weeks. It didn't stop him thinking about Rusty. Mind-blowing sex, Ike had said. Times ten. Times a hundred. Times infinity, Danny thought.

Rusty had answered the phone more promptly.

"Ishmael? Good to hear from you."

Truffles. He'd bought two packets and he'd liked the look of amusement when he'd produced the box from under the pillow.

"You want me to lick it off you or…"

Silently, Danny selected one and crushed the smooth paste between his fingers. Without a word, Rusty grabbed his hand and sucked off the chocolate, a finger at a time. Danny thought that image would stay with him forever.

He became a regular. One of Rusty's regulars. And he hated that there were others.

"Don't get possessive," Rusty warned after he'd hesitantly brought it up once.

He hadn't mentioned it again. And he'd left Rusty alone for two months. Two months when he'd thought endlessly of fucking Rusty, of Rusty going down on him, of Rusty riding him and he'd imagined other men doing the same and the hatred was still as strong.

He'd hoped that Rusty might have missed him but Rusty didn't seem to have done anything of the sort. There'd been the repartee between them as usual and there'd been the fabulous, fabulous sex and Danny had watched Rusty get dressed and wondered if Rusty would stay the night if he asked him.

"No."

Danny blinked. Rusty's back was to him.

"No, what?"

"No, I won't stay. I'm yours on loan, Ishmael."

"I wasn't going to-"

Rusty turned round and fixed him with an unblinking stare.

"Sure, you weren't."

Danny bit his lip and Rusty's face softened.

"You're not the first," he said gently.

"I'm sorry," Danny said.

"Don't be sorry," Rusty told him. "Just don't do it again."

More sex. More magic. Tricks that Danny would never have thought of. Positions that he'd never thought possible. Golden skin and firm stomach and defined muscles and ribs and he thought about the little breaths and pants that Rusty made and always, always the self-control.

He'd tried once to reciprocate. Rusty had slapped his hand away.

"Against the rules, Ishmael. Anyone going to make anyone scream here, it's going to be me."

Danny had screamed. Screamed Rusty's name in ecstasy. He'd whispered. Whispered Rusty's name, begging him not to stop. And when he was on his own, he'd lain and touched himself and imagined Rusty lying with him, on him, under him.

Rusty was becoming an addiction.

He didn't call him. He buried himself in work. He dated – girls, not men – and tried not to think of how each of them wasn't Rusty. He left Rusty alone for three whole months of purgatory.

And then he called him.

Rusty walked into the suite as nonchalant as the last time. The words flew between them, the whisky was drunk and then they moved to the bedroom.

"What's that?" Rusty said immediately pointing at the side.

"Little bonus," Danny told him. "Ten thousand dollars. You get a thousand every time I come."

Rusty looked at him and Danny wanted more than anything for Rusty to argue, to scoff, to throw the words and the money back in his face.

"Only ten thousand?" Rusty grinned. "You underestimate me."

A week later and Rusty had arrived and there had been drinks and Danny had had a movie on. They'd sat side by side and watched and talked and joked and after a while, Rusty had run his hand over Danny's thigh.

"Clock's ticking," he said.

"Not tonight it isn't," Danny replied and Rusty frowned.

"You don't want me anymore?"

"I want…" Danny licked his lips and turned round on the couch. "Alright. Here's the deal. I want you. Not just tonight. Every night. But I don't want to be buying you just for sex. I want us to be friends. I've got enough money that you never need to work again. I want us to be-"

Rusty was on his feet in an instant.

"I am not your fucking boyfriend, Ishmael!" White hot and angry.

Danny got to his feet too.

"We are not in a relationship," Rusty went on fiercely. "This is not some deep and meaningful partnership designed to last for all eternity. This is a series of one night fucking stands. This is not about true love. This is solely about the fucking!"

"Rus-"

"Don't call me for a while," Rusty said over his shoulder as he left.

He'd phoned. He'd pleaded. Rusty's voicemail was less than understanding.

After a fortnight, he'd stopped. After a month, he'd tried again. The number was unobtainable.

Danny rang Ike in a panic.

"He's changed his number," Ike said needlessly.

"I know. I need it."

"If he didn't give it to you-"

"Ike, please."

Rusty had agreed to see him. He'd walked through the door and Danny's whole body relaxed. It was like a part of his life returning to him.

"I'm not stopping," Rusty said and there was steel and cold in his voice. "And we are not having sex."

"Alright." Rusty's terms. "Alright."

"I came to give you a message. You walk away and you forget about me. I don't want to see you again. I don't want you phoning me. I don't want you pestering Jerry or anyone else for my contact details. Jerry knows how to behave. You don't."

"I can change-"

"No, you can't." Rusty sounded definite. "Now you fuck off back to your hotshot lawyer life and you keep this as a pleasant little memory to keep you warm at night. If you try to contact me ever again, I will introduce you to some friends of mine who play very, very rough. Do you understand?"

"Rusty, I-"

"Do you?" His eyes were ice blue and unforgiving.

"Yes," he swallowed. "Please, Rus-"

"Good, because you're a good-looking man and I'd hate for that to change."

He turned to go and Danny made an inarticulate noise of pain that stopped him. Rusty turned his head.

"Get over me, Ishmael."

"Danny," Danny said desperately. "My name is Danny."

"Danny…" Rusty said it like he was trying it on for size. "Well, then, get over me, Danny."

"But, Rusty, all the…everything we…" Danny waved an arm that encompassed the all and the everything.

For a moment, there was a flash of a sad smile and then it disappeared.

"It was only business, Danny. Nothing personal."

And the door closed behind him.