milord stumbling upon streetrat wife selling his body in dirty alleyways to smelly oji-sans! he thinks he's caught a filthy rapist forcing himself on a frail young boy and swoops in to rescue fuuchan. fuuchan is angry at first because he worked hard to attract that customer, then he notices vox's attire and pegs him as a rich young master right away. fuuchan guilt trips vox for scaring his source of income for the night away, "are you going to replace him?" but vox still views himself as straight at this point, he gets flustered and stammers an apology and a refusal. he offers to buy fuuchan dinner instead, which fuuchan finds amusing enough to accept just to see where it goes from there. also fuuchan secretly has a pussy (still has his dick, balls or no is up to interpretation) and is technically a virgin because he only lets customers do it in his ass. that stream was a fucking goldmine.
they keep running into each other and gradually grow closer. vox starts gifting things to fuuchan because giving him cash feels wrong, and seeing fuuchan wrapped up in an expensive wool scarf and leather gloves he picked warms the pit of his stomach. fuuchan doesn't say no, he's poor and he knows not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he also squashes down any wandering feelings he might develop. nothing spells demise for a whore like falling in love.
maybe they get extra drunk one night. vox crumbling under the stress of familial responsibilities, feeling like nothing he does is enough. fuuchan licking his wounds from a tough customer the night before, his body littered with bruises and cigarette burns. maybe vox turns to stare at a cut above fuuchan's eyebrow for a split second too long, and he sees a man who could never afford to take anything for granted, for whom each small gesture of kindness wasn't just enough but beyond what he deserved. he made vox feel needed, useful, worth something. vox hooks a finger under fuuchan's chin and leans down to give him a sloppy kiss laced with whiskey.
fulgur is taken aback, his sweaty palms extra warm against his own glass of whiskey, he feels himself burning up. he doesn't dare budge an inch for fear of shattering the moment and lets vox lick his lips open, lets vox's heavy tongue slip into his mouth. their makeout session stretches out minute after agonizing minute, fulgur starts worrying about leaking through his pants because he's so wet. his mind grows hazier with each swipe of vox's tongue against the roof of his mouth until he decides, fuck it all, vox can't be as straight as he claims, and even if he were, fulgur has the right extra parts anyways.
fulgur takes vox back to his place for the first time. under normal circumstances he'd feel shame at how rundown everything is and stress over whether vox would judge him for his living conditions, but tonight they're both too horny to care about their surroundings. vox is pretty damn drunk, all it takes is a light shove and he ends up sprawled across fulgur's hitherto neatly-made bed. fulgur removes his pants and sticky panties in a single movement, swings a leg across vox's body and straddles him. they spend a while frantically jerking each other off. when fulgur finally guides vox inside him, he feels surprisingly clumsy and inexperienced for a whore. he's so aroused he barely notices the pain, he's overwhelmed with satisfaction at the feeling of fullness in this part of him he'd always avoided acknowledging, let alone accepting.
meanwhile vox just wants to crawl inside the soft, silky warmth wrapped around him and fall asleep forever. he lifts one of fulgur's hands that's entangled with his and smells his wrist, inhales the scent of the perfume he'd gifted fulgur, then kisses his knuckles one by one as he thrusts upwards, into the wet, pliant cunt he just realized wasn't fulgur's ass. fulgur's heart gives a little tug at every kiss and he involuntarily clenches around vox at the same time. he remembers belatedly that he forgot to roll a condom onto vox's cock beforehand. and then he doesn't have it in him to pull off once vox comes, just wraps his arms around vox's head and holds him to his chest as they ride out their orgasms. fulgur doesn't even know if he can get pregnant.
the next morning they wake up and the magic hasn't worn off yet, so they fuck like rabbits around fulgur's tiny, rundown flat, vox paints both his holes with his cum and gets the best blowjob of his life to top it off. fulgur suspects he might have sucked vox's brain from between his ears out the tip of his dick because vox asks him to move in with him and stop whoring himself out. or fulgur has gotten high off of vox's cum, the taste of which still lingers on his tongue, and he's hallucinating right now. he must have left his pride in pieces at the bottom of a whiskey glass last night since he finds himself accepting vox's proposition. vox is elated by his answer and expresses his joy by hoisting fulgur up, dumping him on the ratty couch with sunken cushions, and fucking him silly. as he shudders around vox unloading yet another load of cum inside him, fulgur makes a mental note that he should really find out whether he needs birth control if they're going to keep forgoing protection.