posted to tarantinoverse
FANDOM: Four Rooms
TITLE: The Millionaire's Holiday
SUMMARY: Ted's going to regret this, isn't he?
WORDS: 1149
RATING: R


He stands before the door of the penthouse suite, adjusting his hat to a less jaunty angle so that it gives off more of an air of professionalism. He straightens his jacket, smooths down the front. His hand is poised against the door.

He's preparing to knock when the door is pulled open. His fist meets air instead of wood. Standing in front of him is none other than Chester Rush.

"Theodore."

"It's Ted, actually."

"I know, Theodore."

"Ted," he repeats, pressing his lips together in a thin line. "It's Ted."

"I know. I'm just playing with you."

Ted gives a curt little nod. "Yes, sir."

"It's Chester," the man tells him, parroting the way Ted had corrected him only seconds earlier. "Come in."

Ted sidles into the suite and looks around. His shoulder twitches.

"Where are your friends?"

"It's just me."

"Oh! Oh," Ted exclaims. "Oh." He pulls his legs together, toes pointed, and stands as if he's about to salute. Instead, he asks "How can I be of service?"

Chester puts his hands, heavy and warm, on Ted's shoulders and pushes him down into a chair. He proceeds to sit down across from Ted and lean forward, his elbows on his knees. He clasps his hands. With that thin-lipped smile, Ted thinks he looks rather scary. Not in a big, monstrous way, but in a sort of kill-you-in-your-sleep type way. Ted shudders involuntarily.

"You ever done cocaine?"

"Excuse me?"

"Coke. Coca. Nose candy. Bolivian marching powder."

"But... that's not legal, si- Chester," Ted points out. Chester reaches a hand down to the table and slides a mirror (that Ted had failed to notice) in front of him. On it are three neat, even lines. Ted stares.

Chester takes out his wallet, pulls out a fifty dollar bill, and rolls it into a thin little tube. He extends it to Ted.

"You first," Ted deflects. Chester grins, baring his teeth.

"I do anymore and I'll start to fuckin' seize," Chester jokes. Ted doesn't think it's very funny, but his lip curls up in a half-smile anyway. He reaches out for the bill and takes it, lowering his head down and placing the end of the bill at the start at one of the white lines of powder.

He snorts it, the whole thing, and immediately jerks back like he's been electrocuted. Chester's smiling wide at him. Ted bends back down for another.

He wipes his nose self-consciously when he finishes. "Well, that's..." Ted looks up. Chester's stood up and moved into his space, hovering above him like he wants something. "It's -"

Chester leans down over him, his hands braced on the back of the chair over Ted's shoulder, and kisses him on the mouth.

"Wow," Ted says, tilting his head. "Is this what you called me for?"

Chester doesn't answer him, just crawls into his lap and kisses him some more.

*

Chester has barely pulled his face away from Ted's from the minute he said that they should head into the bedroom. He's like one of those suction fishes that stay sucking away happily on the sides of fish tanks, only less fishy and happy and more passionate and devouring.

Chester pushes him down onto the bed and Ted scuttles backward as Chester joins him. He's been in this room before, loads of people order room service, but he's never been in the bed. He's never been fucked anywhere in the hotel before, for that matter, as he's quite certain that's what is about to happen from the way things are going.

Chester grabs him by the collar and kisses him. "I've always wanted to fuck a bellboy."

"Hm," Ted answers as Chester tugs at the bowtie around Ted's neck.

"Actually, that's a lie, Ted. I've never had a bellboy fantasy. I just wanted to make you feel like doing this was important to me, like I had lived years for this day."

"Oh, well, that's nice, sir. I've always wanted to, how would you say, get high with a movie star and proceed to have homosexual relations on a bed with velvet sheets," Ted says nervously. "How's that?"

Chester stares at him, and he gets that kill-you-in-your-sleep look in his eyes again. Then he nods.

"You're a funny guy, Ted. You're a fuckin' comedian."

"Thank you," Ted says abashedly, his cheeks flushing. "I -"

"Shut up," Chester growls. He fists his hands in the Ted's starched white shirt and kisses him repeatedly; they are moist, heated kisses that make every limb in Ted's body feel animated.

Chester is lying beside him, propped up on one elbow. His free hand is making its way down Ted's chest and to his trousers, pressing against him through the blue fabric.

"I'll give you a hundred bucks to suck me off," Chester grunts. Ted wonders why he thinks he has to pay him but says "okay" anyway.

Chester rolls off of Ted and starts working at the button of his trousers. There's music coming from the television. Ted dances in place to it a little while he waits for Chester to get his trousers off. It takes longer because Chester pauses when they're around his ankles to sit up and untie his shoes, pulling them off and dropping them onto the floor before he completely slides his pants away.

Ted looks at him like this is daunting, like a puzzle that only someone with a genius IQ could solve has been placed before him. He's never done this before, and part of him still would rather not, but there's no time like the present and there's nothing quite like the feel of a crisp hundred dollar bill in your hand.

He kneels between Chester's knees and takes his swollen cock into his mouth, doing everything he can think to do with it. Licking, sucking, nibbling like a bunny rabbit (but not the kind with the fucking razor-sharp teeth that can pierce through your skin if they decide they want a bite. Fucking vampire bunnies, that's what they are). Chester's toes curl into the red blankets.

Ted does this for as long as he can, for as long as his tongue and teeth and mouth have energy. He finally stops when his jaw aches and Chester still hasn't come and he decides he probably must not be too good at this.

Ted straightens back up and looks at Chester, who gives him a a lazy smile.

"I'd fuck you, but I think I'm about to pass out."

With those words, he does exactly as he predicted, his eyes rolling back in his head as he blacks out.

"Well, shit," Ted says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. That was not exactly the climax he'd been expecting out of the evening. "Better call an ambulance or something, then."

Ted crawls over Chester's body and reaches for the phone.