It had been awhile since Sawyer had met up with John, a few months at least, but he was in the mood for something very specific. He was in the mood for a daddy figure, in the mood to have strong arms touching over him. He'd admit it, being raised by a nanny-- au pair was the fancier phrase-- left with certain fixations? Desires? He didn't know what to call them, but he knew that John could satisfy. He knew that John also enjoyed it, but that's where he stopped asking questions.

He'd met John years earlier, back when John was his high school professor and he was a senior. They'd had an instant connection, but John had a thing for rules and Sawyer had a thing for keeping his permanent record intact which meant that spark between them had to wait until the first day of summer break after graduation. And that day after graduation? That's when John first rented room 3114 and they met up. Sawyer was shy but hungry for him and John knew exactly what he wanted. John introduced him to the naughtier side of things, the fact that it was okay to explore deeper issues in the bedroom and he let Sawyer experience having the support of an older man in however way he wanted. They'd had sex a few times, but that was not always their interest. Most often, Sawyer just wanted a man to hold him and talk. They talked about John moving on from teaching high school, Sawyer's classes, even who he was dating and occasionally politics. Sometimes it got a little naughty and they roleplayed-- that's what Sawyer was after tonight.

He pulled up to The Ampersand, one of the finest hotels and social clubs in the city and as the valet approached his car, he opened the door and stepped out. He handed the man a few dollars for tip and then he moved inside the vast lobby. He didn't have to wait there either. The desk clerk saw Sawyer enter and placed a key card on the counter.

"Thank you. Room 3114, as always?" He settled for the fact that he was memorable, that's why the desk clerk didn't ask what room he needed, but the reality was that John probably gave instructions. John took care of things like that; he likely told the desk clerk that a young man would come around 7 o'clock. He'd have dark curls, a slender frame, and a gently frowning face. He may have thrown in a clothing description: tight skinny jeans, designer shirt and jacket. Sawyer took the key and then took the stairs up to the third floor. He knew the route to the room like how he knew his route home. He turned left, passed two hallways then turned right, then he was at the door. The whole place was drowned in rich colors; carpet lined the floor from wall to wall and on top of the deep burgundy carpet was a rug, rolled out through the hallway in a bright pattern, adding festivity to the comfortable warmth. The walls were in the same family as the carpet color, but darker? Or perhaps richer? Sawyer couldn't quite tell. And the doors were framed with gold and were almost black they were so dark. The door numbers were on a gold plaquette.

The familiarity excited him, too, he knew what was going to happen right behind that door and his body was suddenly trembling with excitement. He was never sure whether to knock or to walk in, so he did both. He gave a soft knock first and then he opened the door and walked inside.

John was already there, of course and the room was lavish. They both had money, but John enjoyed showing off for Sawyer, showing him just how much money he really had at his disposal. John had picked the penthouse suite just for a casual hook up. The suite had a full kitchen and a bar which was where John was sitting. He'd poured himself smoked bourbon on the rocks and he took a sip, his pale blue eyes meeting Sawyer's deeper blue ones as the boy stepped in the room and closed the door. His eyes wrinkled at the corners as a smile couldn't help but play on his clean shaven face. There was a little five o'clock shadow, but it only added to John's appeal as did his salt and pepper hair.

"You're late." The older man observed, uncrossing his legs and placing his drink on the bar counter. His thick fingers drummed the table.

"I'm sorry." Sawyer's voice was gentle, barely having to play the part because John's warm voice always made him breathless. He tiptoed into the room, placed his keycard and belongings on the side table before he approached the casually-dressed man.

"No, you're not. But you will be."