Category Linkin Park

Until The Sun Rises Up by Rivver

Forced Pleasantries

A.N: New multi-chaptered story! Whoohoo! I’m very excited about this one, but also a bit hesitant since it explores a theme that has been explored many times, but I’ll try my best to give keep it fresh and interesting. A little heads up, there will be some non-con elements in the future. Haven’t decided exactly in which chapter they’ll appear, but I’ll make sure to add the warnings at the beginning of said chapter when it does.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. It’s all fiction. The song belongs to Nine Inch Nails - Something I can never have.

With that said, hope you enjoy ;)


He’d overslept. Again. And now he’d be late for Chester’s performance.

Groggily, he dragged himself out of bed and made it quickly before heading off to the bathroom, picking up a clean towel on his way. Under the water spray, he scrubbed up vigorously and made sure to use extra soap to clean his most private parts.

One thing he’d learned during the past couple of years was that there were not enough showers he could take in a day. This one was his third today and he couldn’t blame it on the heat of the summer and the yucky amount of sweat it brought with itself. It was the middle of winter and it was as cold as it could get in L.A which was fairly cold in his opinion.

It took two cups of strong coffee to get rid of the hold the claws of sleep had on him, claws he loved to have around him. Brad loved to sleep, especially during the afternoon. Just today, for example, he’d slept almost ten hours straight.

It was quiet too, his routine. The minute he closed the door to his small apartment it was himself, his second-hand furniture and his TV. It was an unflattering place in the not so nice part of town too, but at least it was clean. If there was one thing he couldn’t deal with, that was a dirty, messy place. He hated that. It made him anxious. So he made a habit of cleaning his apartment every morning while listening to the news to catch up with the happenings of the world, but after a frugal breakfast, he tucked himself under his covers and forgot all about it.

Twenty minutes later, he was outside grabbing a cab, shivering from cold and cursing under his breath against winter, his least favorite season. Luckily, he only had to wait a couple of minutes. He quickly got in and instructed the driver to take him to Santa Monica Blvd as fast as he could and then fixed his gaze out the window to try and ignore the consecutive glances being thrown his way.

“Do I know you?” At that, Brad turned to meet the guy’s gaze. “I could swear I’ve seen you some—” The guy held his tongue and broke eye contact. Brad hid a smirk and shifted his gaze back out the passenger window. Oh, he remembered him. Ryan something. Yes, he’d been very nervous of the possibility of getting caught so they’d ended up doing it in his car which he’d parked in a poorly lit street after Brad had told him that driving to the outskirts of town to a deserted area was a deal breaker. Not the most comfortable place, the back of a car but Brad didn’t mind. The less personal the experience the better.

Halfway through their destination, the guy spoke again. “I—I don’t do that…anymore. I’m not—”

“Like I say to every client,” Brad interrupted with a sigh, “what happens between us is of extreme confidentiality. You don’t need to explain yourself to me either.”

“Right. But I am straight. I was only experimenting.”

“Good to know,” Brad replied with thinly veiled sarcasm. In truth, he couldn’t care less about the reasons or excuses behind his client’s demand for his services. As long as they paid, he had no business knowing about theirs.

The cab came to a stop right outside The Rage; its blasting music and flashy lights calling him in.

Opening the door, he turned to the driver once more. “So I guess I won’t be seeing you around,” he dared to tease in a mock-sad tone.

Giving Brad a non subtle up and down look, the guy smirked, “Who knows? Maybe I’m up for more experimenting.”

“Oh?” Brad’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Well, if that’s the case then you know where to find me,” he replied, returning the smirk. He then got out of the cab and leaned over the passenger window. “See you around, handsome,” he said in a flirty tone before walking away and toward the club.

It couldn’t hurt to get the guy back as a client. He’d been decent enough. And he was handsome and had a sense of humor. Both qualities were a definitive plus.

Chester’s performance had gotten delayed a few minutes so Brad was able to make it just in time to wish his friend good luck before he walked on stage. Not that he needed it. The guy was a pro up there.

The lights grew dimmer over the crowd and a pinkish-red glow fell on Chester. The music started and Chester looked at him, winked and turned back to audience.

Moving closer to the microphone, he ran his index and middle finger up the pole in a suggestive manner and leaned closer to the mic until his mouth was resting against it. And then he uttered the first lines.

"I still recall the taste of your tears..."

Self-consciousness forced Brad to look away when Chester started to run his hand down his naked torso and further down with the clear intention to cup his groin. They were best buddies and had done more things together than Brad dared to remember, most under the influence of alcohol, but it just didn’t sit right with him to pry on such an intimate display even if a load of drunken men were watching the sexually charged show as well and were probably taking advantage of the dim lighting to masturbate. Chester didn’t mind, though. He loved it as he often claimed. And that was his intended purpose all along, to captivate them.

"This thing is slowly taking me apart

Grey would be the color if I had a heart..."

Brad observed the crowd. They all seemed to be under some kind of spell as Chester hummed on seductively. Then a guttural sound left his throat that progressively transformed into a sweet tone. The range that man’s voice had was incredible and the power he exerted over the audience even more so.

"You make this all go away..."

Listening to the lyrics, Brad got lost in his thoughts.

"I just want something

I just want something I can never have"

The following song choices were far more energetic and Chester danced and jumped about on the stage, playfully interacting with the band behind him and the audience that followed his every move. He even came up to Brad a few times to blow him kisses or drink from the water bottle Brad kept for him. When he was done and after throwing his audience a huge kiss goodbye, he left the stage.

“You were great!” Brad complimented with enthusiasm, giving him a few pats on the back through his own shirt while following him into the dressing room.

Chester noticed this and shook his head. “You cunt,” he said with a chuckle and snatched the shirt from his hands.

“You’re all gross and sweaty,” he said with a shrug.

“How you even manage to sleep with strangers is beyond me,” Chester commented after drinking a gulp of water.

“Um…I take a lot of showers and carry around a tiny bottle of sanitizer. Oh!” he said, clicking his fingers. “And condoms, lots of condoms.”

Chester chuckled. “Of topic, but you’re gonna love me after I tell you what I got Jim on board with.”

Brad frowned when he caught the intent in Chester’s eyes and crossed his arms over his chest in a self protective manner. Usually, when Chester said things like that he ended up getting dragged out of his comfort zone in some way.

“Why am I suddenly scared?”

“Don’t freak out on me just yet,” Chester said while drying his sweaty torso with a towel. “You know Mark?”

“Mark the dancer?”

“The same. Well, he broke his leg while riding his bike, so…I talked Jim into letting you fill in for him. You know…till he gets back.”

Brad deadpanned for a few seconds before he burst into nervous laughter. “Fill in for him. As in me dancing in his stead?” Chester nodded. “You’re joking, right?”

“I never joke about dancing.”

“Ches…” Brad shook his head. “I don’t dance. Ever.”

“Yes, you do!” Chester said with evident amusement and poked Brad on the side. “When you’re drunk you turn into freaking…Britney Spears or something.”

“Get out of here.”

“Okay, not Britney but you manage. You have a mean hip sway. Couldn’t take my eyes off of them last time...”

“Chester! No way.”

“You know how you keep saying you could do with some extra money? Well, this is an opportunity for that.”

Brad sighed and hung his head. “Okay, I’m just gonna play along here. Hypothetically,” he said, looking up at Chester again, “if I said yes…what would I be wearing?”

Chester rolled his eyes and approached one of the dressers behind them, which kept an extensive variety of costumes and dresses for the many performers of the club, and began rummaging through the exaggerated outfits. He took out a tiny and very sparkly pair of silvery shorts then turned back around to show them to him and Brad’s eyebrows shoot up.

He’d seen some of the dancers wear them before and they left nothing to the imagination.

“Those tiny things? Get out of here. No way.”

Chester tutted and shook his head, hanging the shorts back on the dresser. “You know, for a prostitute you’re excessively prudish.”

Brad shrugged, his arms still forming a shield against the scandalous offer. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not, but you’re letting good opportunities pass,” Chester lamented. “I offered to get you a singing number…you turned it down. And you’ve got such a gorgeous voice, man. Now I offer you this; the perfect opportunity to show off that cute little body you have, but you don’t want it.”

“Look, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m just not the ‘spotlight’ kind of guy,” he said, using air-quotes.

“Damn….and I thought you were okay with being up on stage,” Chester said, tossing the used towel on a chair then grabbed his t-shirt and put it on.

“Playing guitar while you sing is one thing. Performing practically naked in front of a crowd? That’s like…” Brad trailed off, gesturing with his hands, “…way out there.”

“Okay, so maybe this is too much for you. But still, you’re way too withdrawn. You need to get yourself out there more, buddy. Show off a bit. You want more clients, right?”

“I do, but I’m not trying to become the next…Chester Bennington,” he said with a grin. Chester chuckled and did a gracious bow. “I’m just trying to pay the bills.”

Chester nodded in understanding. “Well, tell me if you change your mind. It’s good money. And it will increase you clientele. I can guarantee that.”

Brad couldn’t argue on that point. He knew Chester was right. And it wasn’t like he could afford the luxury to just decline such opportunities, especially not at the moment when money was so tight. But he would have to think it thoroughly and probably have a couple of very strong drinks before he ever managed to get on stage with minimal clothing and dance in front of a crowd.

“I’ll—I’ll think about it,” he said reluctantly. Chester’s semblance brightened up. “Don’t get too excited, I said I’ll think about it.”

“Sure. Take your time. It’s not like Mark’s fracture’s gonna heal anytime soon. I hear it was pretty bad.”

“Sad to hear that,” he said distractedly, feeling the familiar knot of anxiousness forming in his stomach now he was actually considering Chester’s offer.

“Anyway, I have to go out there.”

“I’ll come with you,” his friend said and grabbed his jacket.

Brad smiled and nodded. He was grateful he wouldn’t have to stand out in the cold on his own. In truth, Chester didn’t need to go out there. He had a butt load of potential clients among the crowd no doubt. Sometimes Chester even got him clients, but only sometimes. The crowd inside the club were mostly young gays with good looks who didn’t need to pay for sex, so if they paid, they did to get someone like Chester, not the random guy who occasionally played guitar while he sang. Some even waited weeks for a couple of hours with him. And a bunch of them Chester ended up discarding, choosing only those he really liked. Another luxury Brad couldn’t afford to make.

Things were different for him than for Chester. While his friend could probably have just one client all week and make do with flying colors, Brad needed a certain amount of clients in a week to make ends meet and sometimes he just didn’t make the cut. That’s when things got rough.

Brad stood outside as he waited for his first potential client of the night to show up. Chester stood next to him, smoking a cigarette. His preferred spot was around the corner of The Rage’s entrance. That’s where he got most of his clients. It was familiar too and it was close enough to the club that if anything went wrong, he could just run back there. He liked the fake sense of safety it provided. Fake because from the moment he got inside his client’s car, he was at his own devices.

“So you picked one yet?” he asked, nodding his head toward the club.

Chester nodded while taking a smoke from his cigarette. “He’s waiting by the bar. Told me he was a ‘fan’ and asked for a private performance,” he laughed, a thick puff of smoke accompanying the laughter. “He also told me he wants me to fucking wreck him. That’s exactly what I’m gonna do. He’s a pretty one too, so can’t fucking wait.”

“Oh…then go ahead. I’m fine here.”

“You know I don’t mind. And he’s not going anywhere. Besides…you’re way prettier,” he teased and reached over to tickle him.

“Stop,” Brad laughed recoiling away from Chester’s invading hands.

“Anyway, nice change. I love it up the ass, but it’s also nice to give it a rest, you know what I mean?” Chester bluntly said and flicked the now consumed cigarette out into the street. “Aren’t you just fucking sore sometimes?”

Brad chuckled and nodded, used to his friend’s lack of shame. “Mine could definitely use a sabbatical.”

“A sabbatical year,” Chester laughed. Brad laughed along, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Chester was the only person he could talk about certain things and not feel utterly uncomfortable.

Just then, a car slowed down right in front of them. The occupant lowered the passenger window and after some very agonizing seconds for Brad, he leaned closer so his face was somewhat visible and made beckoning gesture with his hand. He had this recurring nightmare that he got shot while waiting for a client. They lowered the passenger window first, their identity always hidden by the car’s shadow casted upon them; and when he walked up to the car to greet them…Bam!

A slap on the butt made him jump out of his thoughts.

“Sway those hips, baby,” Chester reminded him and headed back to the club. Brad headed for the car, trying to do as Chester told him but feeling awfully self-conscious about it now it’d been mentioned. He usually did it without thinking.

“Hi, there,” he said and leaned over the passenger window. He had his dealing-with-clients smile on, but when he took one look at the car’s occupant, it mutated into a spontaneous little grin.

The man was a looker. And young. About his age young.

“Hi. I’m Mike,” the man said, flashing him with an impossibly bright smile and reached out a hand to shake his. “Mike Shi—”

“Mike’s enough,” he said quickly and took the offered hand, shaking it. “I’m Brad.”

“Hi Brad.”

“So what’re you looking for, Mike? Guys who look like you usually have better plans on a Thursday night than driving around town all on their own. Hope you’re not just lost and looking for directions,” Brad teased with a smirk.

Mr. Handsome chuckled. “Actually, I’m looking for a good time. Maybe you could help me with that?”

“It’d be my pleasure, handsome,” he said, tilting his head to the side to expose his neck in a seductive manner, causing Mike to set a lust-filled gaze there and lick his lips.

He often amazed himself at how far he’d come from the shy, stuttering ball of nerves from two years ago when he first started. He still felt that way, completely out of place, but now he could hide it behind his well-rehearsed act.

“So what kind of fun do you have in mind?”

“Hope on and I’ll tell you,” the guy said with that impossible smile of his. It made his stomach flutter.

First thing Brad noticed when he got in the car was how fresh it smelled and how clean it was. And it was an old car owned by a seemingly laid-back young man, so that was saying something. The second thing he noticed was the strange yet very welcoming feeling of safety and comfort he felt sitting next to this complete stranger.

Shaking the thought away, he put on his flirty mode again and smiled at Mike.

“So where are you taking me, handsome?” he asked, winking playfully.

Mike stared at him for a couple of seconds before breaking down into a nervous chuckle. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Are these forced pleasantries an obligation? I’m not really good at it as you can see.”

“You’re doing great so far,” Brad smiled and reached over to run his hand down Mike’s arm in a both reassuring and suggestive manner. “But if you’d prefer we just drop them…?”

“I would, yes.”

“Good,” Brad sighed with a relived smile. “I hate them too, but some like it so I just have to like…test the waters a bit first.”

“Ah, makes sense,” Mike nodded then started the car. “So to answer your question…I’m taking you to my place, if that’s okay of course.”

“It’s more than okay,” Brad replied quickly and put on the seat belt.

So it was going to get personal. He usually preferred his clients to take him to a motel or the likes instead of their actual homes, but tonight it didn’t seem like a bad thing. At all.

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