#class differences

Ayla clapped her hands in excitement. “A palace!”

“Don’t be stupid,” Ameena said, her tone superior. “Kings and princesses live in palaces. Our country doesn’t have loyalty.”

 “Royalty,” Rangi corrected her, locking the car. “If you’re going to call someone stupid, make sure you don’t make mistakes yourself.”

 Ayla beamed at Rangi and grabbed his hand. “I like you, Mr. Rangi!”

Rangi stared down at the tiny girl with a vaguely puzzled expression on his face, before looking at Uzair.

 Suppressing a smile, Uzair said, “Leave Mr. Rangi alone, Ayla. Come on, take my hand.”

 Ayla pouted but let go of Rangi’s hand and took Uzair’s. Ameena took his other hand while a few servants came out to take their luggage inside.

“I don’t like him,” Ameena said as they walked to the house.

“Don’t be rude, sweetie,” Uzair said, glancing at the man in question, who walked alongside them. “Mr. Rangi can hear you.”

 Rangi’s eyes were focused on the house; he showed no sign of listening to the conversation.

Uzair averted his gaze. It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago, he had this immaculately dressed, stern-faced man grunting and moving on top of him.

“But I don’t like him,” Ameena said stubbornly but lowered her voice. “Don’t like how he looks at you.”

“How he looks at me?” Uzair repeated.

“Like Ayla looks at a pancake.”

Uzair forced a smile. This was a whole new level of awkward. “You just imagined it, pumpkin.”

“But—”

“You just imagined it,” Uzair repeated, hoping Rangi hadn’t heard Ameena’s words.

Rangi’s face was hard and cold, devoid of all colour. This was a man who was coming home to his father after fifteen years. He looked about as happy as a man on his way to jail.

A butler—a goddamn butler—opened the door and greeted Rangi with a quiet, “Master Jaskirat.”

Uzair led the girls inside. They looked shy and nervous, and Uzair had to admit he wasn’t any less nervous than them; he was simply better at disguising it.

His first impression of the hall was of vastness. It was more than a little overwhelming.

“Jaskirat!”

Uzair looked up. A tall, dark-haired woman was walking down the stairs, a vaguely relieved smile on her lips. She hugged Rangi and kissed him on the cheek.

“Vaneet,” Rangi murmured. “You look good.”

So this was the sister who had convinced him to come.

Uzair eyed her curiously. He could certainly see the family resemblance. She seemed a few years older than her brother, perhaps thirty-five.

Vaneet pulled back and stared at Uzair and the girls over Rangi’s shoulder, but before she or Uzair could say anything, two elderly men entered the house.

One of them, the taller one, bore an uncanny resemblance to Rangi. In fact, they could have been twins if the man wasn’t about thirty years older. Uzair decided this must be Rangi’s father, Jaiveer Rangi.

“The prodigal son returns,” Jaiveer said with a sneer. “I knew this day would come.”

“Then you were wrong,” Rangi said coldly. “I came only because Vaneet wouldn’t stop nagging me. Apparently, you’re practically on your deathbed.”

“Jaskirat!” Vaneet said, looking outraged.

“I’ll have to disappoint you, then,” Jaiveer said. “I’m in excellent health.” He was lying. He had an almost grey tinge to his complexion. “So, you won’t get my money any time soon.”

“You know I don’t need your money,” Rangi said.

They glared at each other icily, and the resemblance they shared was striking. Uzair wondered if Rangi knew it and resented it.

At this moment, Jaiveer shifted his gaze to Uzair.

His sharp dark eyes swept over him from head to toe, making Uzair painfully aware of his worn, cheap clothes.

Rangi senior’s lips twisted in derision. “And this?”

Rangi took a step toward Uzair and put a hand on his shoulder. “This is my lover, Uzair Baloch.”

The other old man inhaled sharply.

Jaiveer’s face betrayed nothing, yet somehow, the temperature in the room seemed to drop a dozen degrees.

Uzair grimaced on the inside, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected that.

“Uzair, this is my father, Jaiveer Singh Rangi,” Rangi said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. The asshole was absolutely enjoying this. “And my father’s old friend, Nihash Singh Chander.”

“Nice to meet you,” Uzair lied, wondering if Mr. Chander was the man whose daughter Jaiveer wanted his son to marry.

“I see,” Jaiveer said at last before shifting his heavy gaze to the twins. “And these are?”

Uzair suppressed the urge to hide the girls behind his back. “These are my sisters, Mr. Rangi. Ameena and Anayla.” For once, Ayla remained quiet and didn’t argue about her name. Both girls moved closer to Uzair.

“I see,” Jaiveer Rangi said again before addressing a maid. “Prepare rooms for our guests.”

“Prepare a room next to mine for the children,” Rangi cut in. “Obviously Uzair will stay in mine.”

Uzair cringed a bit.

The vein in Jaiveer’s temple throbbed. Vaneet watched her father worriedly. Mr. Chander had a look of disgust on his face that he didn’t even bother to hide.

“Do as he says,” Jaiveer Rangi bit out, breaking the silence. “Show them to their rooms. Dinner is in half an hour. Jaskirat, a word.”

Uzair turned to follow the maid when a hand grabbed his arm and stopped him. “I’ll see you shortly,”

Rangi said and gave him a brief kiss. Or at least it was probably supposed to be a brief kiss, but Uzair found his lips clinging and parting, eager. He felt Rangi’s surprise before Rangi grabbed his neck and kissed him for real. The kiss seemed to go on forever.

By the time Rangi finally pulled back, Uzair could barely breathe.

Uzair didn’t look around to see everyone’s reaction—he could well imagine it.

Grabbing the girls, he followed the maid.

His face was very warm.

--------

To say the dinner was awkward would be an understatement. It wasn’t just awkward: it was painful.

 It was only ten minutes in and Uzair was already glancing at the clock on the wall.

The toxic atmosphere in the room was so thick it could be sliced. He’d never seen so much passive-aggressiveness between family members. Now Uzair was glad Ameena and Ayla hadn’t Been allowed to eat with the adults.

The annoying part was, no one said anything outright; everything was carefully hidden behind bland smiles and polished manners. Aman, Vaneet’s husband, was the only one who seemed to be struggling to hide his dislike for his brother-in-law.

Rangi didn’t pay Aman much mind, though; his most cutting remarks were reserved for his father. Rangi was rather infamous for his ruthlessness in college, but it was nothing compared to his nastiness towards his father. Uzair would have felt sorry for Jaiveer Singh Rangi if the old man wasn’t actually worse. Within the first ten minutes, Jaiveer had managed to insult everything from his son’s intelligence to his sexuality, his tone full of derision and contempt.

Watching them, Uzair was beginning to understand why Rangi had left his home and hadn’t returned in fifteen years. He was also beginning to understand why Rangi was such a control freak. His father’s personality was so domineering that he had likely developed the similar need to control everything as a defence mechanism.

“They do realize how much they’re alike, right?” Uzair murmured to Vaneet, making sure that Rangi, who sat on his other side, couldn’t hear him. Vaneet seemed to be the only friendly face at the table.

She sighed. “I think that’s partly why they hate each other,” she murmured. “Though deep down, they care for one another.”

Uzair looked at the father and son sniping at each other and gave her a sceptical look.

Vaneet smiled humourlessly. “I know, it’s hard to believe, but Father does care about Jaskirat.” Her eyes became distant. “When we were kids, Father used to be very proud of him. I used to envy Jaskirat. Things became…difficult when Father found out about Jaskirat’s sexuality, but I’m sure he still cares. If he didn’t, he would have disowned him ages ago and removed him from his will.” Glancing at her husband, she lowered her voice. “Aman is really angry about it. He’s Been working at the family company for years and thinks he deserves to inherit it.”

“Ah,” Uzair said. That explained Aman’s animosity.

Speaking of the man, Aman chose that moment to turn to Uzair and ask, “So, do you work? Or does my brother-in-law pay your bills for spreading your legs for him?”

Silence dropped over the table, and Uzair felt himself flush.

He couldn’t believe Aman had actually said that. And judging by the uncomfortable look that flashed over Aman’s face, he couldn’t believe it, either. But then Aman set his jaw, looking stubborn and determined: he might have regretted saying it, but he clearly wasn’t taking it back.

Uzair bit his lip, unsure what to say. Aman’s words hit a bit too close to home. Of course, no one here knew the nature of his relationship with Rangi, but nevertheless, it made him feel embarrassed and humiliated. Uzair hadn’t completely come to terms with it himself, and now…he felt like a whore. It was ridiculous, but it was the first time he truly felt it. He hadn’t felt like a whore when he sucked Rangi’s dick for money; he felt like a whore as he sat in this posh dining room with all these snobby people.

“Apologize.” Rangi. It was spoken in a quiet, steely voice, but everyone in the room heard him.

 Aman glared at Rangi. “Why would I? We all can see he’s poor and fucking you for—”

“You will apologize,” Rangi said, his tone dangerously soft.

“Aman, please,” Vaneet said, awkwardly. “That was uncalled for—”

“Apologize,” Rangi said again.

Jaiveer Singh Rangi said nothing, watching the exchange between his son and son-in-law like a hawk.

“It’s all right,” Uzair said lightly.

Rangi ignored him and continued glowering at Aman, who looked increasingly uncomfortable. “He will apologize or we’re leaving.”

Uzair thought it was an odd threat to make, because Aman would be clearly delighted if they left, but Jaiveer Singh Rangi frowned. “Apologize, boy. No one insults my guests.”

Except for you, Uzair thought, not without humour.

Aman said stiffly, “My apologies if I offended anyone. It wasn’t my intention.”

Rangi didn’t look satisfied in the least, his body tense and eyes narrowed.

“If you must know,” Uzair told Aman. “I’m a student, and I work part-time as a waiter. Yes, Jaskirat pays most of my bills. I’m not ashamed of that. I’m lucky to have such a supportive, dependable partner.” He looked Aman in the eye. “And if I ‘spread my legs for him,’ it has nothing to do with it, and it’s definitely none of your business.” Uzair raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure why you even brought it up, Aman. Unless you’re envious.”

He smiled as the asshole’s face slowly turned red. Uzair didn’t even mind the stunned, awkward silence that descended upon the room. He picked up his fork and started eating again, ignoring everyone.

He could feel Rangi’s gaze on him.

Uzair didn’t turn his head.

---------

Uzair spent a few hours playing with Ameena and Ayla after dinner.

When the twins were finally exhausted and fell asleep, Uzair returned to his—their—bedroom.

It was empty.

Unsure if he was relieved or disappointed, Uzair grabbed fresh clothes and took a long shower. He stood for a while with the water pouring over his naked body and thought of the fact that he was going to share a bed with Rangi. All night.

Uzair looked down at his half-hard dick and sighed. This was all so confusing. Rangi was a man. He was also one fucked up asshole. He couldn’t possibly be excited about sharing a bed with him.

Annoyed with his body, Uzair dried himself, dressed, and stepped back into the bedroom.

At first, he thought Rangi was still elsewhere. Then he spotted a tall figure out on the balcony.

Slowly, Uzair made his way towards the door, slid it open, and stepped out into the night. When the chilly air hit him, he shivered a little and wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm. It was still pretty warm for November, but it was not warm enough for one thin layer.

Rangi had a cigarette in his hand. He didn’t turn his head.

Uzair leaned against the balcony railings, mirroring Rangi’s posture. “He’s really ill, you know.”

 He noticed the subtle stiffening of Rangi’s shoulders only because he was watching him closely.

 “Yes,” Rangi said tonelessly. “He’s dying.”

Uzair couldn’t say he was surprised.

“I’m sorry.”

Shrugging, Rangi took a long drag from his cigarette. “There’s no love lost between us.”

Uzair looked at the moon as it peeked out from the clouds. “When my parents died, they left huge debts. The house had to be sold to pay off creditors, so I ended up homeless, barely legal, and with two toddlers to care for. Sometimes I hate them. For dying, for being so irresponsible and putting me in this position.” He felt his throat thicken and had to swallow the lump. Breathing in the clear night air, he tilted his face upward to feel the breeze brush across his skin. “But I miss them. So fucking much.”

Rangi didn’t say anything.

Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.

 “He’s your dad,” Uzair said.

Rangi stubbed the cigarette out. “I didn’t bring you here so that you can lecture me about the importance of family.” His voice was clipped. Irritated.

“No. You brought me here to annoy your dad and prove your point. Don’t you think it’s petty and nasty?”

“He’s no victim. Dying doesn’t make him less of a piece of shit.”

“It doesn’t,” Uzair agreed. “And you know nothing about our relationship.”

“You’re right: I know nothing. We’ve already established I’m just a dumb pretty boy.”

 Rangi turned to him. Uzair could feel the heat of his glare even in the dark.

“You’re incredibly annoying,” Rangi said before yanking Uzair to him and crushing their lips together.

Several minutes later, Uzair opened his eyes and said, “This is annoying, too. You’re using my oral fixation thing against me.”

Rangi kissed him again, and everything went dizzy, hot, and overwhelming.

Some unidentifiable time later, Uzair opened his eyes again and found himself lying in bed. Naked. And Rangi was licking his nipple.

“We aren’t having sex,” Uzair said.

“Of course we aren’t,” Rangi agreed. He was naked, too.

Uzair’s dazed gaze skimmed over his broad shoulders, densely muscled chest, and taut stomach, before lingering on his hard red cock. He felt his mouth water.

“No, seriously,” Uzair tried again but bit his lip when Rangi wrapped a hand around his erection. God. “We aren’t having sex.”

Rangi stroked Uzair’s cock a few times before letting go and spreading Uzair’s thighs.

Uzair tensed.

Rangi stroked his inner thighs, his hands strong, and big, and so good—

“Don’t even think about it,” Uzair managed.

“Just lie back and enjoy, Baloch.”

Uzair laughed. “Right. Like I don’t know what you really want. You want to stick your dick in me.”

Rangi’s eyes seemed black as they met his. “I do want to ‘stick my dick’ in you. Before the night is over, you’ll want me to stick my dick in you, too.”

Uzair snorted, looking at Rangi’s thick cock. “There’s no way in hell I’ll let that thing anywhere near my ass.”

“We’ll see.” Rangi’s finger pressed firmly against the spot behind Uzair’s balls, making Uzair gasp. “I think you will. And you’ll look good on my cock.”

Uzair flushed. “Fuck you. You’re such an asshole. Bossy and—”

“Stop pretending you don’t like it.” Rangi’s big hands stroked Uzair’s thighs again. “You like having someone in charge of you. You like to not have to be responsible for once and just let go.”

 Uzair opened his mouth to protest but he couldn’t deny it. His dick seemed to like Rangi’s bossiness a whole lot. “It doesn’t mean I want your dick in my ass. I’m not even sure how that’s supposed to feel good. There’s no way it’ll fit.”

“It’ll fit, don’t worry.” Rangi’s eyes looked dazed with lust as they roamed over Uzair’s naked body. “I must fuck you. The sooner, the better.”

Uzair licked his lips. “I don’t think—”

“Turn onto your stomach,” Rangi said.

“I—”

“Turn onto your stomach,” Rangi said again, in the tone of voice he used in classroom.

Uzair’s cock twitched. He rolled over, closed his eyes, and told himself he could stop Rangi any moment if things got too weird. He would.

Hands kneaded and stroked his ass before something wet and soft touched his buttock.

Uzair tensed. “Wait—”

“Relax, you’ll like it. All straight boys like it.” Rangi chuckled darkly. “Don’t worry, it won’t make you gay.”

Uzair found himself blushing. “Um, I had a shower, and I’m clean, but—”

“You have a beautiful ass.” Rangi bit his buttock. “I’ve wanted to do this to you for ages.”

Rangi’s lips closed down around his hole and sucked, and Uzair’s brain gave up the battle. Rangi’s tongue pressed forward, tracing around his hole before giving it a long lick, and Uzair moaned, his thighs spreading wider of their own volition. Christ, nothing should feel this good.

Soft, and slick, he felt Rangi’s tongue licking him, lapping at his hole with abandon. Then Rangi’s thumbs held him open to the assault.

Fuck. Rangi’s tongue worked into him slowly, giving soft jabs at his centre, parting the muscle, coaxing it to relax, sliding inside. Eating him out. So filthy, so wrong, but Uzair made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, rutting against the mattress, his cock rock hard and throbbing.

“More,” he gasped, shifting his body until he was on his knees, legs spread and head hung low. The sharpness of a shaved jaw scratched the soft flesh of his buttocks, intensifying the sensations and reminding him once again that it was a man licking his hole. It was his professor eating him out.

The thought sent a rush of blood to his cock and he whimpered, pushing back against Rangi’s mouth as Rangi fucked him with his tongue. It wasn’t enough. His hole felt oversensitive, clenching for something hard to grab hold of.

They moved together, that wicked tongue trying to get deeper into him with every forward thrust. He was whimpering and shaking so badly, on edge and unable to come. He ached, and Rangi’s tongue wasn’t big enough, couldn’t get deep enough, and Uzair needed more. “More.”

Rangi pulled away from him, and then there were slick fingers massaging Uzair’s entrance with a circular motion, and Uzair moaned. He was having trouble thinking, his body taking over and trying to impale itself on Rangi’s fingers. Rangi pushed the fingers in—one, then another, scissoring them quickly before pulling them out again.

Panting, Uzair waited. He heard the sound of a condom wrapper tearing open. It should have made him panic—what was about to happen— but he was past the point of freaking out. He was so empty. So hard.

Rangi flipped him onto his back. Shoving a pillow under Uzair’s hips, he lined himself up between his legs, his dark eyes glazed with desire.

Uzair willed himself to relax as the thick head of Rangi’s cock slowly started to stretch him. He felt himself pulled taut, burning, as Rangi slowly pushed into him, Uzair’s insides reluctantly giving way to the intrusion.

“Oh,” Uzair breathed out when Rangi was fully inside. He gripped Rangi’s arms, his thighs trembling. It hurt a little.

Rangi took a deep breath in, his muscles rigid under Uzair’s fingers. Rangi’s body was tense as hell, as though he was fighting for control.

Uzair’s eyes fluttered shut, mouth falling open as he panted hotly. He was practically impaled on Rangi’s cock, pleasure chasing the pain as he was stretched to his limit. He felt so full, Rangi’s cock heavy inside him in all the right ways. It still ached, creating an exquisite agony that made his cock throb and leak against his stomach. The sensation of fullness was satisfying in a way he couldn’t explain.

“I’m good,” Uzair said, and to his surprise, he was. The intensity, the feeling of vulnerability was doing strange things to him, and he was melting, and he wanted—

Rangi started moving. Uzair could only open and close his mouth uselessly as the weird, intense pleasure started building up. Rangi’s cock nudged against his prostate, hard, and Uzair cried out, fingers digging into Rangi’s shoulders. “Oh god, oh god,” he muttered between unintelligible words and noises as Rangi thrust in and out, fucking him in earnest now. It still hurt, but Uzair could only concentrate on the intense, maddening pleasure building up inside of him. He was aching all over, need pumping in him as Rangi’s cock buried deep in him, but not deep enough, never enough, and it was good, so good, so very good—

Tossing his head back, Uzair bit his lip as Rangi practically bent him in half, directing his cock at an angle that made Uzair whimper.

Rangi leaned down and started kissing him in time with his thrusts, his tongue delving deeply, and all Uzair could do was hold on and ride with the storm. He completely lost track of time, his whole world narrowing to Rangi—Jaskirat—his hot mouth, his cock, his hands roaming all over Uzair’s body. Uzair wasn’t even speaking anymore, just taking it and moaning. His hole was twitching around Rangi’s cock as Rangi pounded into him without restraint, kissing and biting Uzair’s neck and shoulders. Uzair’s dick was near bursting and he tried to touch himself, but Rangi didn’t let him.

Uzair could feel his belly tightening, feel his hole begin to pulse, throbbing down around the hard cock that continued to fuck him, never letting up, taking his breath and his sanity and his inhibitions.

 Uzair groaned, digging his fingers into Rangi’s shoulders. “I can’t —”

“You can.” Rangi gave a brutal thrust against Uzair’s prostate, his fingers gripping Uzair’s hips painfully. “Come on.”

And Uzair came, his body shuddering as his orgasm ripped through him. Rangi slammed into him a few times before groaning and going very still on top of him.

Uzair lay limply under him, his breathing still erratic, his body quivering in aftershocks.

He felt himself drift off to sleep, feeling warm, good, and satisfied.

--------

tags - @savagedrama @aan-4-u @harrystyleskiwi9 @notasamrat @darkdemonriddle666 @lakshana-ke-lakshan @isshaaobbsessedwithbl @ch1ldofthelordannie @aneshb25 @immortalconfluxmuse @hamzair-is-my-otp @gulaabjamun08 @moonligh-t @chickenpilot @manniexo @jadekiddo

Claire almost changed her shirt three times.

Not because it was dirty—it wasn’t. It was her favorite crop top, soft from a hundred washes. The jeans too, ripped at the knees from climbing over a fence once. She liked them.

But the motel mirror was honest in a way she wished it wasn’t.

She tugged the hem down anyway.

Probably not a “nice to see you again after three years” outfit, but whatever.

When Leon texted I’ll pick you up, her first instinct had been to panic.

Not because of him.

Because… buses were free. Cars were not.

So she typed back: No no, I’m right off the 12 line, super easy. I’ll meet you there. :)

He answered: Sounds great. Can’t wait to see you.

Like nothing had changed.

Like she hadn’t spent the last few months living out of donated gear and travel stipends while he—well. He was Leon. Government golden boy. The kind of man who probably had an ID badge that opened doors she’d never even see.

The bar he chose was warm, loud, expensive-looking in that effortless way—dim lights, brown leather, glass walls. The kind of place where drinks came in short glasses and nobody checked the price first.

She walked in and immediately wished she hadn’t.

Leon’s coworkers were clustered at a corner table, all crisp shirts and watches she could pawn her car for. They laughed like people who took black cars everywhere and had employer-covered dental. She could feel their eyes flick toward her, not judging exactly—just recognizing she wasn’t one of them.

Leon stood the second he saw her.

Not politely.

Not casually.

But like she’d just walked into a room he’d been searching for all night.

“Claire.”

That smile—soft, relieved, stupidly warm—hit her harder than anything else.

He looked… good. Unreasonably good. Hair shorter, jacket tailored, something metallic glinting on his wrist.

Was that—

No way.

That was a Rolex.

She tried not to stare.

“Hi,” she managed.

He pulled out the chair next to him without thinking, hand brushing the back of it like he expected her to sit there and only there. “You made it.”

Like she hadn’t taken three buses and walked the last seven blocks because the last line stopped running after six.

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

His coworkers said hello, polite but curious, glancing between them in a way that made her very aware of her ripped jeans, her motel hair-dryer curls, her thrift-store tote bag.

Leon didn’t notice any of it.

He was looking at her like she was the only person in the bar.

“You want something to drink?” he asked, leaning in so she could hear him over the noise. His voice softened the way it always did around her. “You okay?”

She swallowed.

Why did that make her throat tight?

“Yeah,” she said. “Just… long day.”

He nodded like he understood perfectly.

Like her “long day” was anything like his.

He waved the bartender over, ordered for both of them, and then turned back to her with that gentle intensity she remembered too well.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he said quietly.

And for a moment—just a moment—she forgot about the jacket, the watch, the men in expensive shirts.

She forgot about the motel, and the bus, and the ache of feeling out of place.

Because Leon Kennedy was looking at her like she hadn’t changed at all.

Like he hadn’t noticed she didn’t belong in his world anymore.