the bed linen was scratchy underneath benji’s palms, yet he did not move from his position. his cull would be here any time and benji had to look ready and willing. he did not mind the work so much, but it seemed as if his culls were getting more and more demanding. or perhaps benji was not as willing or obedient anymore. nonetheless, he knew that he just had to get through whoever came through the door, then he could go home.
the man who walked in was tall in stature and he a kind face. for a moment, benji thought perhaps augustus had sent him a gift- someone nice and gentle. but he could not have been more wrong. mr. gilbert, it seems, was an angry man who liked to crush people under his fingers. benji could take all sorts of abuse without so much as saying a word. the various bruises, cuts, and scars all over his body said as much.
it started off like any other rough cull, with benji in pain yet still giving in to it. it seemed like all he did was give and give and give. while everyone else took and stole and forced. there was a moment when mr. gibert’s large hands were around benji’s thin neck, squeezing the life out of him bit...by bit...breath...by breath. benji’s vision began to fade in and out but that didn’t stop the man. he quickly came to the realization that...he would never stop. no man like this would ever stop. augustus would never stop. who cared if benji lived or died anyway? normally, benji would shrug this off, as he didn’t particularly care about life or death. but this time it was different.
how dare he. how fucking dare he touch him like this. who gave him the right? what? because he paid a pretty penny? mr. gilbert stuck his fingers down benji’s throat and he couldn’t breath. sharp nails scratched benji’s mouth and his eyes watered. he couldn’t even cry out if he wanted to.
something came over him then. a deep, dark anger rose from his chest. watery eyes narrowed at the man on top of him. he would lose consciousness if this beast continued so benji did the only thing he could thing of. he brought his teeth down on the man’s fingers as hard as he could. benji could hear the man holler and try to pull his fingers out of benji’s mouth but he didn’t relent. if mr. gilbert wanted his fingers down benji’s throat so bad, he wouldn’t stop until he swallowed them.
benji glared up at the man and continued biting down. he felt like an animal tearing the flesh of its kill. he could feel the warm, metallic liquid fill his mouth and run down his chin, staining his clothes and the bed sheets below him. mr. gilbert would never touch him again. benji would be sure of it.
mr. gilbert, now how to follow benji’s whims. using all his strength, benji forced the other man to flip over so that benji was now straddling him. the man tried everything he could to get benji to release his grip, including pulling at benji’s blonde curls and scratching at his has face. the harlot didn’t seem to register any of that, too focused on hurting the man who was so desperate to hurt him.
He’s as pretty as Paris, Augustus thinks as the harlot extends the pastry to him, and cleverer than he knows. Offering no response, he simply leans forward with hunger in his eyes, making sure his lips and teeth graze lightly against Benji’s finger before taking a bite of the pastry with a small smirk. The inherent, unspoken sanctimony of the act is a true embodiment of the Marquess, forever reminding the world around him that he could rip them apart with teeth alone.
“Delicious,” he responds at last, cold grey eyes fixed on his companion as if to challenge — do I mean the pastry or the meager taste of you? In truth, it’s not just the sight of Benji squirming that Augustus delights in — it’s the rise of his every reaction, the way he flinches and blushes and sinks back into himself in disappointment. “I’ll have my cooks prepare it for you upon our return,” he finds himself promising, the words yet another act of presumption, as the harlot leads the way to the next stall.
He listens for any sign of the secret he’s looking for. Was it travel you craved as a boy, or freedom? Augustus knows better than to ask the question aloud, unwilling to face the demon that is his own self-entitled possession; he’s too emboldened by the act of clawing at something that could never be his to consider himself a captor, and too addicted to the promise of power to let his little lamb go. “A child’s secret, but a secret nonetheless.”
The stall is tucked away in a darker alleyway than the one before, though there is enough light to draw his eyes to a dark velvet ribbon with a small ringing bell charm threaded delicately in the middle. He tosses another small coinpurse to the seller, and takes the collar into his hands. Augustus is greedy, even when only in thought, and wants for little more than to claim Benji as his in the face of any curious Londoner with prying eyes — of which there is an infinity. “A little prize for my little pet. The first of many if you grant me the answers I seek,” he states, before gently spinning the boy around so he can tie the collar at the nape of Benji’s pale, slim neck.
The simple act has brought their bodies far too close for propriety, and the Marquess takes advantage of the moment to whisper against Benji’s ear, “Tell me something you’ve never told a soul.” He turns the boy back around to face him, trapping him between the dark stone of the alley and himself as he admires the glint of gold just above the hollow between Benji’s delicate collarbones. “Tell me…something you know you shouldn’t.”
the harlot hold his breath as augustus takes a bite. it seemed like benji’s decisions were a series of potential risks. augustus was like a dangerous firecracker; he could go off at any moment. benji finished the pastry and was content for the first time in awhile. “thank you,” he murmurs, ever polite and grateful, as if augustus’ approval was the only thing that kept air in his lungs. then again, maybe that was true.
it always amazed benji how much money augustus had. time and time again, he watched the other toss coins like it did not matter. benji could not wrap his mind around it as he spent numerous hours in hell-like conditions for meager wages and tips. soft eyes examine the different collars and necklaces on the table; they were beautiful, of course. “for me?” benji’s voice suddenly picks up in the alley. he is still not used to gifts. “thank you, gus- it’s stunning” he murmurs, pale fingers tracing the velvet across his neck. perhaps it’s a little strange how easily benji turns in his back on augustus. he trusts him, in a way, even when he’s holding something across his throat. “how does it look?”
naturally, he presses himself against augustus. it is a position he finds all to familiar, especially in the slight darkness of the alleyway. he tilts his head, blonde curls against augustus’ icy skin. “i am not sure i should,” the harlot replies, voice wary. he kept a shred of darkness within him and was not so eager to let it escape. how would it change the way augustus thought of him...if augustus thought about him at all. the bell jingled softly as benji was turned around. he hesitated, eyes darting from the man in front of him then towards the main road.
“well...when i was on the ship one night, i got up when everyone was asleep. and..i grabbed everything i could find- sacks of sand, old shoes, bottles of whiskey...and i tied them around my ankles.” he spoke surprisingly smooth, as if relieving the distant memory. breaks in his sentence were caused by benji licking his lips as he searched for the right words. as he spoke, the harlot’s fingers played with the buttons on augustus’ coat. “then i jumped overboard...and i began to sink,” he continued. his eyebrows furrowed. “but...i must have tied the knot wrong because everything came undone and i floated to the top of waves. i could not seem to drown.” he sighed. there were no tears in his eyes; it seemed like something he cried enough about. “the uh- the captain woke up and managed to get me back on board and he said...he said ‘if i ever tried that again he’d kill me, himself.’“ benji finished his story, fingers dropping from augustus’ buttons and returning to his side. honeyed eyes eventually met icy blue. “you are the only soul who knows that.” benji didn’t know what else to say. he felt like he said too much.
whenever he felt trapped, benji just did what came naturally. he leaned up and pressed his lips against the side of augustus’ mouth. “i think i saw a flower stall a little down the street,” he proposed as if he didn’t say anything prior. “new flowers would look nice in your chambers, yes? carnations...daisies...yes?”
Their midday excursion had entwined itself into his little game, it seemed — or perhaps, Benji had devised a game of his own, staving off consequence and pain in favor of a few hours in the sun, purposefully in the public eye to keep Augustus’ madness at bay. He would oblige for a price, of course, indulging the boy by way of commoner’s intrigue, if only to see what terror he could strike up without the cover of night. Icy eyes follow as a baker’s stall calls to Benji, the boy’s golden curls illuminated in the sunlight as he marvels at the assortment of goods. It comes as no surprise that golden-hued treats attract honey-colored eyes, and Augustus can’t help but sigh disinterestedly as his companion fawns over the desserts — that is, until his ears pick up a whimper of trouble, a request for help he’s all too capable of assisting with. A self-satisfied smirk draws itself out along the line of his lips, and Augustus teases, “Well, well. Perhaps there are some things youth and beauty can’t buy.” There’s a slight sinister edge to the low of his voice, an inflection he intends for Benji alone to catch. “Very well,” he allows, reaching into his coat pocket to procure a small velvet pouch of coins. The satchel is pinched between thumb and forefinger, hesitating to be spent as Augustus ponders a moment for some possible exchange. He leans in to whisper, unwilling to let the baker in on his secret, “Let’s play a little game, shall we? You may have anything your heart desires within the bounds of this market, but you must tell me a secret of yours for each stall we visit.” Before the harlot can answer, Augustus hands the pouch to the seller, who nods to Benji to take whatever sweets he likes. “However virtuous or sinful, just…entertain me.”
the feeling of warm sunshine on his skin reminded benji that he was alive. he closed his eyes, face upwards towards the heavens, soaking in brightness of the day. heaven knows he’d have to return inside where the shadows awaited him. at least this way benji could pretend that everything was still normal. that he was just a normal boy in the middle of a market, but he could feel augustus’ presence without even seeing him. it reminded benji that he could not stray too far.
the harlot was surprised that augustus agreed. wide eyes watched the other man with caution. his words caused benji’s cheeks to burn bright red with embarrassment. “r-really?” benji asked, hopeful that he expected nothing in return. but augustus never gave anything for free. as augustus leaned forward, benji flinched, honeyed eyes looking at the ground. the blonde swallows. “hm? oh...thank you,” he murmurs, face turning a bit so that his lips brushed against the other’s cheek.
benji’s focus returned to the various desserts. he settled for a small, golden pastry that had some sort of fruit jam. he took a bite and savored the sweet taste. it was everything he hoped it would be. he licked his lips and smiled, before offering a bite to augustus. “do you want a taste?” the boy asked with a tilt of his head.
a secret. what did benji keep to himself? he thought deeply of his response before leading the way to a different stall. “when...i was little....i wanted to be a bird.” he chuckles at the silly thought now. “i wanted more than anything to have wings to fly all over the world.” it seemed benji was all too grounded now. “does that count- as a secret, i mean?”
cobblestone streets damp from the morning’s rain caused mud to pile up where ever benji stepped. the streets were crowded like they usually were during midday, the noise of traders and shop owners selling their wares almost defeating. honeyed eyes took it all in, surveying each stall and table with interest. there was little money in his pocket so he had to be decisive on where to spend it. the blonde could not help but be drawn in by the sweet aroma of baked goods from a nearby table. the man behind the table was not as sweet as his product. benjamin gazed at the breads, muffins, tarts,and cakes with curiosity- especially the cakes. it was not often benjamin had desserts, though he’d always been fond of them. when the baker attempted to sell them, benji shook his head.“apologies...i do not have...the funds,” he murmured softly. he weighed his options before slowly turning towards the man besides him. benji swallowed, afraid to speak up.“gus....may i have a cake please?”
The boy before him, golden-haired and honey-eyed, is too alike the sun, and like any fool too eager to feel a beat of warmth, Augustus can’t help but stare straight at him for a little too long, eyes wide with a mix of hunger and surprise. It’s a dangerous little game he’s elected to play, accompanied by its own set of dangerous rules, of which the most important was to conduct every act as though he truly were infatuated with the boy. Love is, of course, the least practiced of his acts of artifice but, by Augustus’s calculations, Benji has already learned to breathe in Gus’s kind words as willingly and as easily as the scent of a flower. And so, he decides against further planning, thoughts drifting off instead to the precious pink of Benji’s lips, asking softly for a reprieve from all the pain. If Benji weren’t so impossibly beautiful, the ease with which the harlot had fallen for his little game and pled his pathetic little pleas, would be enough to get Augustus hard.
He imagines it must be difficult for Benji to request something so common to his own ears, and yet foreign to his tongue. The words fall from the boy’s lips like a prayer, soft and slow, as if seeking divine mercy, and the piety of it all stokes a certain hunger deep in Augustus’ belly. “You needn’t ever plead with me,” Gus whispers against Benji’s lips, the silk of his tone just barely offsetting the hunger in his gaze. He presses his lips to the side of Benji’s mouth, denying the harlot the satisfaction of a real kiss anytime the boy reaches for his lips, though he hopes his act of teasing passes off as a kind of awkward tenderness. One hand moves to tangle itself in Benji’s curls, and his tongue slides lightly against the bottom pout of the harlot’s lips, a mere tease of the true, deep kiss he’s yet to grant Benji. A knowing smirk forms as he feels the boy relaxing into his motions. Admittedly, he’s never quite been one for granting immediate pleasure, satisfaction, or reassurance of any kind, and so — more due to instinct than act —his teeth capture Benji’s bottom lip for the briefest of moments before catching himself. The slight bite is replaced by plush lips once more, their kiss intentionally brief and cut short by Augustus’ own inclination to move further south along Benji’s body.
Lips, teeth, and tongue elect to pay Benji’s perfect pout no mind, and instead, he quickly finds a favorite spot in the crook between his neck and shoulder, humming softly with pleasure as the sweet skin reddens under his ministrations. His hand moves down the pale expanse of Benji’s chest, tracing his ribs with a delicate touch he knows he won’t use again; it would take so little to simply break each and every single rib if he so chose, to simply crack open the boy’s ribcage and rip the fluttering heart out from within, if only to nail it up on the wall for everyone to see. His mouth follows soon after, tracing out another unpredictable path along Benji’s chest, teeth raking lightly against his right nipple before once more finding an immediate favorite spot near the dip of Benji’s hips. Greedily, his fingers knead at each bony jut as his mouth nears the object of his desire. Ever so wickedly, he stops nearly as soon as he starts, and balances on his knees as he shrugs off the remainder of the boy’s clothes.
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how many people have come to bask in benji’s warmth? like a fire, he gave away all of his heat until he was nothing left by a pile of dying embers. he would warm the whole world if he could. but he couldn’t. so one body at a time would have to do. was he being selfish? or perhaps delusional? pretending for a moment that he wasn’t in this dank and damp molly house, that there wasn’t yellowing bruises across his skin, and that the breeze from the window did not give him a cold chill. he was so in his head, when he should have been focusing. this was just like any other day, any other cull. he had to get a hold of himself.
amber eyes stare up at the man hovering above him. they travel across his face, then his shoulders, then the rest of his body before returning. at gus’s words, benji releases the breath that he didn’t know he was holding. the final reassurance that this wouldn’t turn out twisted. he could enjoy himself. the boy smiles, releasing the tension from his body. stretching his neck, he reaches for gus’s lips, following them, only to fall back against the mattress with an amused pout.
his hands are on him all at once, touch tentative until he’s reassured. benji is known for his gentle demeanor, how he seems to be truly enamored with all of his culls. when they touched him like this, it was hard not to. gus’s mouth is on his neck, causing the pale skin to turn a pink hue. benji gladly tilts his head to give gus all the access he craved. as gus continues his tour down benji’s body, his gentle touch soon changes with an increasing desperation. small hands move up his chest, then around his shoulders, pulling the other closer. benji feels like clay under the sculptor’s fingers, he moves with him and gives way with pressure.
the molly boy helps kick off the rest of his clothes so that nothing is separating them any longer. there’s a brief moment of frenzy as benji reaches out for gus, wanting him- no needing him to continue. “come back,” he whimpers, the words falling from his lips as a small plea. ivory skin is flushed though the air around them is cool. his chest rises and falls rapidly as he attempts to catch and control his breath. his heart s beating quickly, but not out of fright. this is the part of benji’s job that he enjoyed, feeling completely and utterly alive. as gus bends to kiss him, benji raises his chin to meet him. finally, finally their lips connect and it was everything that the harlot was hoping for. benji returns the intensity, his hands reaching out to hold gus’s face close to his. he is completely distracted by gus’s lips and tongue that the hand on his cock throws him by surprise. he lets out a choked sound against gus’s lips. his hips buck on their own accord, back arching into his touch. benji’s eyes meet gus’s and he’s taken back by the intensity of his gaze. the molly boy nods and pushes the other down his body, eager to feel his lips on his skin.
a soft moan escapes benji’s lips before it turns into a contented sigh. his hand fists around gus’s hair, keeping the other in place. the grip is surprisingly strong, but not quite hard enough to hurt. the boy’s eyes have fluttered closed as he tried to focus on what he was feeling. his job was how he could please others. it was a rare occasion where he actually enjoyed himself. gus was teasing him, this much he could tell. he would wind benji up until everything felt tight and ready to burst, but then stop his actions before he could release. it felt like he was constantly getting closer before falling two steps back. by now his breathing was heavy, short breaths hot an fast. benji was also known for being obedient, so he could not let himself come until he knew gus was satisfied- until he was done. that was fine for awhile until benji could feel his control slipping. the way he would unintentionally thrust his hips upward. he squeezed his eyes shut tightly before opening them again, blurry gaze focusing on the man between his legs. “please...” he couldn’t even get it out.
at the sound of his name, benji’s ears perk up. he swallows before replying. “yes, gus?” he asks, wondering if the other wanted to stop. he hoped not, but then again, it didn’t really matter what he wanted. the look of relief on benji’s face must have been shocking, when his cull gave him the permission to finish-or rather, asked politely. it didn’t take long after that, for benji to feel his stomach clench and his grip tighten.
it was nothing dramatic. no screaming gus’s name to the high heavens above. sometimes benji would play it up for his cull, but not this time. no, rather benji let out a few more choked sounds and whimpers out as he came. his mouth was open and his eyes fell on gus. his body shivered and goosebumps arose all across his flesh. he may have pulled too hard on gus’s hair, but he pet the spot afterwards, a little apology of his own.
his voice was breathy and shallow as he settled back onto the bed, chest rising and falling with the exertion. “thank you,” he murmured, licking his lips and promising himself to make it up to gus in the future.
I do not think you could hurt me anymore than I have already experienced.
That the phrase is whispered against his chest, near the part of him harboring the vacant muscle that should weep and wail at the boy’s words, is not lost on Augustus. He knows, as confidently as he’s ever known anything, that this is the closest Benji will ever get to his heart — no matter how deep under Gus’s skin the Marquess delved. To his ears, Benji’s words are something in between a promise and a sigh, and in stark contrast to the ideas already brewing in Augustus’s mind. As ever, there’s a delicate intimacy lacing together what a harlot believed and what a nobleman knew, and Augustus marvels at the dichotomy, eyes twinkling with a contented sense of mischief.
“You already think me worthy of your trust?” Gus murmurs with an air of innocent surprise before pressing a kiss to Benji’s temple. “I…I could be awful, you know,” he starts, tone light as ever, almost teasing. He’s testing the waters once again, seeing just how far his little act has carried him. “Chaplain or not, who’s to say I’m not a terrible man? I…” His brow furrows in an act of thought, as though he’s struggling to reveal a story that Augustus has already thoroughly planned. “I lie, and I steal, and I sin like no other.” The words are truth, though the intention and weight behind each are not more than smoke and mirrors. Gus stares up to the ceiling, feigning difficulty to meet Benji’s eyes out of fear and shame. “All far too regularly, too. I ask the nobles who attend church for extra donations and bring whatever they’ve given me to the hungry, the poor, those in need. I don’t know how else to help, to commit to my vows…” He admits it sheepishly, and his voice trails off into a sigh, and he returns his attention to Benji, lips pressed against his temple. “And then there’s this.”
He swallows, and stares at the molly boy longer than he means. Perhaps in a fairytale, Benji’s beauty alone would spare him from the fate Augustus devised for him, the angelic amber of his eyes and the cherubic pink of his cheeks deterring any harm from coming his way and simply enchanting the Marquess instead. But Augustus was no fairytale prince, and life was no child’s tale. It would end the same as any other story: in blood and poetry and a warning no one ever heeded.
“Benji, I don’t…want to be like your culls. I-I want to be more, even if I don’t have the words for it,” he whispers against his skin, voice carrying all manner of unspoken promises. In silence, his eyes implore Benji’s, searching for any shift in disposition, any sign of delight or, should his charms fail, repulsion. Temporarily lost in thought, his fingers absentmindedly trace the square edge of Benji’s jaw and the outline of his lips before returning to the curve of his neck and chest; Augustus isn’t sure when or how he learned to muster such tenderness, or if the simple softness of the boy has somehow dug up such warmth from one so cold. Still, the charade can only last for so long, and he leans in closer to Benji, close enough to feel the heat of the other’s breath on his skin, to say, “Tell me how to show you I mean it.”
It’s a dangerous request, one that offers Benji more power than Augustus would normally be willing to grant. Would he ask to be pleasured, or to pleasure Gus in turn? Would he ask for money, or for vengeance against a past cull, for something — anything, really — that granted a sense of catharsis for the violence brought to his body? Was he already too resigned to request little more than to bear the brunt of pain once again, to sign an unspoken pact in blood and bruise and sacrifice? Augustus repositions himself above Benji, eyes focused on the delicate curve of his perfect rosy lips, awaiting a response as he imagines tearing the moans and sobs from Benji’s lips with just the crook of his fingers. It’s only the semblance of self-restraint, still hanging overhead, that returns his gaze to Benji’s honey-colored eyes as he says, “I’m yours to command.”
Of course, what he’s really saying is simply an inversion of his true intent: Fear me. Obey me. Love me if you dare.
it was never really quiet in a molly house. there were always multiple culls who spent their coin and the harlots that performed for them. there was always shouting in the streets and birds on benji’s window. but benji was used to all of that, so instead he focused on the other’s heartbeat. it was a soothing rhythm, the steady signs of life and spirit running through gus. benji sighed and lifted his head so that his chin rested against the other man’s chest.
if he did not already feel somewhat at ease, perhaps benji would have caught the slight warning in the question. perhaps he’d see the future irony and all the pain that his answer would cause. “if you have not given me a reason not to trust you, gus” he answers. it was so startlingly simple. this gus fellow already deserved more respect than his other culls. he seemed to respect benji and treat him with kindness. it was the least benji could do to return the favor. gus avoids his eyes and benji can’t help but feel like he needed to see them again. he quietly traces patterns on gus’ bare chest as he listens to his solemn words. it was common for culls to express their doubts; usually the men that visited him were insecure in one aspect or another. pale fingers continue to draw invisible designs on the chaplain’s skin. he hums, considering gus’ words. the harlot smiles. it’s impossibly soft and seems out of place in the setting. “i could be awful, as well.” he pauses. “you never know,” the boy adds with shrug. “everyone sins, gus. you. me. everyone.” he licks his lips, wondering if he is even making sense. “that does not make us bad people.” benjamin sits up so he can run his fingers through gus’ hair. “if we are comparing the two of us, i would say the harlot is much worse. so you are in better shape than i.” he whispers with a smile. benji chews on his lip. it was something he didn’t like to think about too often. it seemed his whole life was a sin. where did that leave benji? at hell’s gate, he supposed.
benji stares at gus with a certain fondness that he’s practiced over the years, though that does not mean that it’s entirely artificial. benji really cared about other people. as far as knew, all of his culls (whether awful or not) were his lovers- at least for the night.
he’s taken aback but the other’s words. no one had ever really said anything like that to him before. what was benji besides a common whore? “i-” he stumbles over his words before dropping his eyes in embarrassment and bashfulness. he feel silly. “you cannot possibly mean that. i am...” benji doesn’t finish that sentence. what was he? he didn’t really quite himself, but he knew that he wasn’t worth someone like gus. he didn’t deserve him. gus’ touch is soft and gentle, something benji had not felt in quite some time. it was just a simple touch that me his heart swell. he did not know this man, but he knew to be wary of him. any man that made benji’s heart jump was worth the caution.
benji’s spine hits the mattress and suddenly he staring up into gus’ beautiful blue eyes. he parts his lips and sighs. he smiles. “i do not wish to command you, nor anybody for that matter.” he is silent for a long time, mulling over the other’s words. “gus,” he says the name so easily. “if you could do me a favor, i would be indebted to you.” the harlot licks his lips as he attempts to form his thoughts. “as...you can see...i have...dealt with a lot of pain recently.” another pause. why was this so hard to ask for? “can you make feel good for once?” his words are softly spoken, falling from his pink lips with an air of hesitance. was it such a hard request? one of his hands rests over gus’. “please?”
For a flash of a moment, his gaze turns hungry as Benji’s clothes are stripped away from his lithe frame, revealing the bruises adorning the molly boy’s flesh. Green and yellow splotches discolor the milk and honey of his skin, jarring and haphazard in their placement, and somehow all the more scintillating for their asymmetry. Even without seeing the cull exact their brutality on the boy, Augustus would know exactly what kind of person had fucked Benji senseless — no matter their station, they were a mirror image to the Marquess’s true nature: painful for the sake of pleasure, harmful as a point of habit. The brightness of Benji’s little laugh pulls him out from his momentary reverie, and he quickly removes his jacket and linen top before tucking his knees under himself, matching Benji more exactly in selfish display. Gus’s lips twist lazily into a boyish grin as Benji talks about his love of the sunrise, all at once too intimate and too innocent — and, yet it’s this very dichotomy, this stark, sugary juxtaposition of pretense and sincerity that makes the game so inexorably delicious.
“You’re just as radiant as any sunrise I’ve ever seen,” Gus offers, the words drifting from his lips with the solemnity of a prayer. “Those are common words to your ears, I’m sure…” his voice trails off, eyes momentarily fixed on the perfect Cupid’s bow of his lips, until he meets his eyes at last, ice on amber once more. He inches closer to the boy, pulled into the gravity of what seems inevitable, and raises a gentle hand to brush against Benji’s cheek. The boy is smooth as a deity encased in marble, his flesh a mirror to the acts of his culls; Augustus longs for little more than to see if his kiss might shatter him whole, but the anticipation arouses greater interest than the reward. Their skin is mere breaths apart, and Gus whispers in continuation, “Perhaps, I can…show you how I mean.” Half out of habit and half as part of the act, Augustus doesn’t ask for permission before he presses his lips to Benji’s own. Once more, it’s an exercise in restraint and in tenderness, the equal unfamiliarity of both cultivating Gus’s own sense of urgent, awkward fascination as his actions grow bolder, hands grazing Benji’s flesh in precursory exploration. His lips descend delicately to the sharp of his jawline and the bruises marking his neck, each kiss mapping out a constellation of injury until he returns his attention to the boy’s mouth once more, smiling lightly against his lips as their hands find each other. “You are beautiful, Benji. All of you. There isn’t a soul who could strip you of that.” Instead of the fluidity of plan, there is a halt, a tense heartbeat of pause; Augustus isn’t sure if the words are born from a place of feigned piety, or a challenge revealed to him from some secret corner of his mind. Are you too beautiful for even me to break, he wonders as his fingers stroke the silken marble of his skin. Augustus lies back on the bed, hand tugging lightly at Benji’s own in invitation to join him.
“If it’s sunrises that cause you such happiness, could it be the fall of midnight that you fear?” He asks, tone light — happy, even, or as close as he could feign — and another lazy smile offers itself in the hopes it calms any worry the boy might have. “I only want to know so that I ensure I never hurt you, Benji,” he adds more seriously, raising the boy’s hand to his lips for one more kiss, the act committed only to further pledge his liar’s promise.
it’s surprising that benji still gets a little why when undressing in front of someone. he can’t help it. having other peoples’ eyes on him made him feel so vulnerable. the bright blue eyes of gus’, though beautiful, were just as intimidating. benji was all too familiar with his own appearance. the bruises that healed over time. he had grown accustomed to seeing them but he knew how jarring others may have found it. how ugly. he felt ugly. benji bit his lip and pushed those thoughts away. he had to keep his head clear for his cull’s sake. he could have a crisis later on his own time. as gus removed his own clothes, benji couldn’t help but examine the perfect, pale skin that was now revealed. he was certainly beautiful- far more than benji. he appeared soft and smooth, like he had never struggled for a meal in his life. lean and fit. benji was intrigued, honeyed eyes admiring the expanse of chest in front of him. he already feels more relaxed than he did when he first met with gus. you could never be too careful, not in benji/s line of work.
benji’s heard it all. compliments and insults were just as common to his ear. he sat on his knees, hands folded in his lap. he was waiting for instruction, ever obedient and mindful. “you’re awfully sweet to me, gus. i do not deserve it,” he murmurs, his soft voice only speaking the truth. still, he was smiling, his lips wide and little tongue poking out between his teeth. as a hand comes towards his face, he cannot help the smallest of flinches that takes place before he’s leaning into gus’ touch as if they were star-crossed lovers. his touch his soft his and benji finds himself enjoying. he stares at him then, really looking at him, wondering what kind of cull gus would be. whatever the answer, benji would be prepared. dark eyes fall to the man’s lips, his breath catching in anticipation. the molly boy manages to nod once or twice before their lips are connected. like usual, it sends butterflies into his stomach. benji had always adored kissing. it was one of the best parts of his job. it made it feel like...his culls actually cared for him...for a moment, anyway. benji leans forward as he kisses his back, lips moving softly against gus’. his small hands find gus’ shoulders, his skin warm under his touch. as the man shifts, benjamin tilts his head, his eyes looking towards the ceiling before fluttering closed. he sighs softly, an angelic sound. the tips of his fingers brush against the other’s silky hair. at their lips meet once again, benji’s hand shifts to gently cradle gus’ face. benji hums, pecking him lightly before shaking his head. “you think me beautiful?” he laughs, scrunching his nose as he did so. “perhaps you need to get your eyes looked at.” there’s a pause. benji is simply admiring gus’ features. the lightness of his eyes and the sharpness of his cheekbones. “thank you,” he murmurs, faint blush on his cheeks. he squeezes the other’s hand and lays down beside him, his head resting on gus’ chest.
“midnight?” he asks, voice curious. “no...i quite like midnight. i do most of work in the dark hours of evening or the early mornings before the sun rises.” he pauses. “i have never been afraid of the dark.” no, it was the people who lurked in it who were far scarier. his eyebrows furrowed, taken slightly aback by the pure kindness this cull was showing. didn’t he want to fuck benji and get over with it? his fingers graze gus’ lips. “i do not think you could hurt me anymore than i have already experienced,” he whispered, eyes dropping momentarily before a smile is replaced on his face.
benji was in an extraordinarily good mood. a previous cull of his was so impressed by the time they shared together that he gifted benji with a whole bottle of sweet wine. benji, who always had a taste for sweets was delighted to keep it in his room.
he was already a few glasses in when word came that george had arrived. the news only furthered his good spirits and widened his smile. he met george in hallway, his hands reaching for the other man’s. “come in! come in!” he said, voice excited and syrupy sweet. his cheeks were flushed and he was attempting to loosen his cravat. “oh how i have missed you, george” benji murmured, the wine doing nothing to filter his thoughts. “have you missed me?” benji asked, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “do you want some wine?” @thelixr
“Gus,” he replies in a small voice. He’s always loathed that diminution of his given name, but he can’t resist the perceived symmetry the name shares with God’s own: three letters, one syllable, and equal in their capacity for inciting fear, causing pain, and administering justice by their own rules. Privately, he admits to himself that there’s a certain attraction at the idea of being akin to someone so feared he inspires love — or something close enough. The pause he’s granted lasts a little too long, though he aims for it to pass off as nervousness to the younger boy, and he continues, Gus’s voice taking over now, “The good book teaches us that…even the highest of the holy serve others. May I?” Long, nimble fingers move to untie Benji’s linen cravat before unbuttoning his silk waistcoat, and he helps the boy slide it off his shoulders and down to the bedsheets. Hoping his words further guide Benji into an ease to call his own, Gus murmurs, “I only hope for you to be comfortable — however that means. I imagine that such fanciful clothes become rather cumbersome after a while, but please, do be as you prefer.” He smiles, brighter than Augustus knew was possible of himself, and finds that it’s all too easy to smile at the boy; like sunshine, there’s a light to him, a warmth that Augustus doesn’t know how to replicate in full, but does know that he yearns to see it burn brighter and brighter before quelling it with the single press of his thumb. He thinks, for a moment, that should things go according to plan, he might even be able to do it with a kiss.
Augustus reaches into his inner jacket pocket to procure a book of poetry, though he sets it on the wood floorboards instead, abandoning his earlier plan without much hesitation. “I…I’m sorry if this isn’t what you expected,” Gus says gingerly. “I suppose, even still, a part of me believes the fairy tales of childhood — singing songs and reciting poetry to the aim of one’s affections, slaying the mythical beast so that you might get the chance to dance with them ‘til midnight comes.” Gus laughs, and Augustus thinks of the embarrassment of such innocence to bring a seemingly natural blush to his cheeks. His hand nears Benji’s own, and delicately, his index finger strokes the smooth skin of the molly boy’s hand. “I-I confess, I don’t know what to do when reality confronts you and y-you realize… There’s not a grand dragon or vile witch, there’s only…you, and the person you’re wholly captivated by.” Augustus realizes the forwardness of Gus’s admission, the earnestness that the boy might extrapolate from his words, but decides to press on, if only to see how well his little charade has worked. “Let’s…forget John Donne for a little while,” he says with a bashful tilt of his head and a small, eager smile. “Truly, I only intended for it to allow me the chance to hear you speak beautifully, but I now realize we could simply talk.” His hand reaches to gently brush back a curl fallen. “To cover even an inch of your face is sinful,” he teases lightly before returning his hand to Benji’s once more, continuing the gentle touches against the back of his hand. “Could we perhaps get to know each other? I…I’ve seen so much that causes you pain, I should only hope to know what pleases you instead.”
whenever benji meets with a cull, he does his best to prepare for anything. to fulfill any fantasy the man may have. he never complains, never protests, he just does what he is told. if this cull wanted to sit besides him all night and talk, benji would gladly agree. “gus,” he repeats, a small smile playing on his lips. “i’m fond of your name. entirely more interesting than mine. benjamin,” he speaks, shrugging his shoulders with an amused gaze. “though you may call me benji if you’d like” or anything else, benji supposed. it had been a long time since benji had a cull who did not demand pleasure right away. it was refreshing, it gave him some time to breathe. he sits close to the man, their knees touching as benji faces him. “you may,” he breathes, giving the holy man permission to undress him. the molly boy is still as gus unties his cravat, but he hesitates for a moment. “i hope my body is pleasing to you, sir” he mutters. he wouldn’t normally say something that, but he knows the green and yellow bruises along his skin may scare him away. it causes a certain insecurity within him. if he was not beautiful...then what was he? he slides his coat off his shoulders and sighs with a comfortable smile. “please do not fret over me, i am here to make you happy, gus” he tilted his head, a finger or two coming out to brush along the man’s cheek. benjamin decides to remove his shirt as well, folding it before setting it on the nearby table.
he watches with curiosity as gus produces a book from his coat. it was surprising but that did not necessarily mean something bad. “no, no” he assures, shaking his head. “it was a wonderful idea. i am glad you visited me.” he means it genuinely like most things he says. dark eyes are focused on the other man as he speak, listening so intently with a charmed smile on his face. he did not know much of fairy tales and fables. his own childhood lacked the excitement of dragons and princesses, but it was nice to think about. benji laughs as gus does, adjusting so that he’s sitting up on his knees. his touch his soft and it is a remarkable difference than how he was he normal touched with greed, lust, and desperation. it brings a small pink hue to his cheeks, similar to the rouge he saved for special occasions. he flips his hand over and grasps gus’s fingers, gently. everything about his was gentle. “i am unworthy of your praise. it makes my heart swell and swoon,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. he was enjoying himself, simply indulging the man and talking to him. benji blows his hair out of his face before settling on gus once again. he laughed. it was sudden but bright sound. “my dear gus, the pain i feel is only temporary. it does not matter in the end.” he licks his lips and chews on his lip, deep in thought. “i...i...am fond of all sorts of things. i can scarcely name them all. i....i have been to st. paul's and...if you climb the steps all the way to the top...you can see the most magnificant sunrise. i've always liked those.”
By far the worst part about running a house was having to deal with its finances. Peck could take the sex and the noise, and the late nights and early mornings. They could take the filth and the threat. What they could not abide was shopping.
They were low on food. They had been since that bloody raid, but normality was now returning to them, and coin with it. The extra funds from the Auction gave the last push needed for Peck to finally loosen their fist round their purse. The first order of business was to replenish their meagre stores; food, candles, booze, and raw materials for Peck’s pharmacy. Whilst they had charges at their disposal, Peck wouldn’t trust most of them with money, and the rest of them with food. It fell to them to go to the markets and to haggle, and purchase, and then lug about their wares.
Covent Garden had a wonderful mix, and made such dull jobs bearable. From the aroma of coffee beans, to sashes of silks, to rotting fish and fly-ridden mushrooms. Peck sauntered about the market with clear boredom, pausing only occasionally for a purchase. They did not often venture into the territory of other bawds and pimps; it could be seen as threatening.
They had just purchased a full bushel of apples, and were in the process of shoving the things into their already overfull bag and basket when one dropped, bruised itself against the cobbles, and rolled. It stopped right between the feet of another.
“Excuse me,” they sighed, tapping them on the shoulder with gloved fingers.
benji liked walking around the street, observing the various people and animals milling about. dark, curious eyes took in the different wares available for sale. he couldn’t help but look longingly at the fine silks, wishing that he could drape them over his skin. he adjusted his scratchy cravat and continued walking, one hand on his coin purse for safe keeping- not that there was much to protect.
he liked to learn about the vendors and what they were selling. sometimes, a particularly generous merchant would give benji some leftover food if it wasn’t selling. the blonde moved through the crowd with a certain expertise, weaving this way and that until he was in front of a table selling various vegetables.
the blonde nearly jumped when someone tapped his shoulder. he immediately opened his hands to prove that he wasn’t stealing. however, as he turned around his shoulders relaxed with familiarity. “peck, good day!” the molly boy grinned, pleased to see a friendly face. he observed the other before glancing down. “oh-” he bent, grabbed the apple, and rubbed it on his shirt. “does this belong to you?”
bambi is a young deer who lives in the forest. he is both optimistic and naive. he is characterized by his doe-like eyes and soft voice. he is curious in nature and does not fit the typical, fierce male roles. he’s a small deer with long legs and light patches of hair. his childhood is marked by tragedy, the loss of his mother and seemingly loss of hope and identity. as he grew up, he developed into a very graceful deer with a shy nature. he fell in love with his childhood sweetheart, faline.
benji is similar to bambi in that he appears to be very harmless and naive. he is a happy young man who has experienced multiple tramas in his life. it is easy to take advantage of him and his friends often look out for him. he’s very sweet and soft and he likes to explore and try new things. he’s soft spoken and falls in love, oh so easily.
Augustus had watched the young man for a while now, fascinated at his obedience, his lithe body succumbing to the pressures of those who treated porcelain with the delicacy of a pig, leaving him bruised and, at times, a little bloodied. He’d never once stepped in to assist, never once reported his mistreatment to his brothel-keeper — quite the opposite, the marquess had finished himself off at the very sight of the boy in all his pain and anguish, and left before cull or harlot took notice. Soon enough, he’d arrived at the idea that the boy might be his perfect little bird, chirping back to him what he might learn about the vicious culls Augustus could ‘supply’, his own secret weapon to bring about a nobleman’s end — wrapped up in white lace and silks, rosy-cheeked and far too pretty for his line of work.
He knew that, if treated with violence alone, the harlot wouldn’t obey him in the long-term, not in the way Augustus needed him to, and so the marquess took to the act of pretending. Wanting to appear as far from himself as possible, his clothes had been ripped from a layperson; truthfully, it wasn’t unheard of for members of the church to break their vows in a harlot house. A dark cloak shielded his profile from those who might know him from periphery alone, and he carried himself with the gait of someone taught to survive, rather than exist — not purposeful, simply present. He offers a small smile when greeted, but follows silently until they reach Benji’s room. “You’re very beautiful,” Augustus starts, his voice affected with a shyness foreign to his true nature. “I…I thought you an angel when I first saw you. That’s why it took me so long to…visit you properly.” He removes his cloak only, revealing the layperson’s clothing underneath. “I hope it doesn’t disturb you much, to be with a man like me. I only wish for us to…read poetry together, if that’s alright. I’ve never…” He smiles bashfully, letting Benji’s mind fill in the blanks he’s deemed unfit for a man of the pious order. Ice blue eyes flit to the bed, and he asks, “Can I — can we sit there?”
it was much easier to be obedient than to act out. any form of rebellion or revolution had been beaten out of benjamin at a young age. it was much easier on his mind and soul to just go along with whatever a cull wanted, so what if his body paid a price? that’s what the culls were paying for, right? and not all of his culls were wicked. in the end, they were all just men. just tired, lonely, men. it was always different and benji had learned a long time ago to be prepared for anything and everything. he didn’t speak up, not often anyway. he just held his anxiety inside where no one else could it. that’s how it was. benji provided them a service and whether he felt pleasure or pain, well, it was just part of the job.
culls came to the molly house in nearly every disguise imaginable. it was something benji was used to by now, so he was not thrown off by the cloaked figure. he merely led the man to his bedroom, a simple room with table and two chairs, and a bed nearby. the molly boy closed the door behind him and faced his cull. “oh,” he murmured, surprised at the other’s words. he always seemed surprised by compliments despite how often he received them. “’thank you. that is very kind of you to say, sir” he murmured, voice gentle and smooth. the blonde laughs. it’s a happy sound full of genuine amusement. “i am no angel, i assure you” benji fusses, scrunching his nose up with humor. he assists in removing the cloak, folding it carefully behind one of the chairs. he examines the man in front of him, dark eyes floating over his features. “you are very handsome,” benji compliments earnestly. the more he converses with the man, the less tense he seems. “shush now, i am very pleased to be with a man like you” he promises, gze somehow becoming softer. the request surprises him but at the same time, it does not. benji had spent plenty of time with culls that just wanted his company. “of course,” he smiles, leading the pious man to his bed. benji sits besides him and tilts his head. “is there a name you would like me to call you, sir?” he understood that not every cull wanted to be known by their given name. there a brief pause. “would you like me to keep on my clothes or shall i take them off for you?”
“All the better for seeing you,” he assured him, his tone softer as he reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder, bracing it there to hold him steady, taking a few moments to admire him. “How remarkable you look in that rouge. It quite suits you,” he offered, wagging a finger to him, before beckoning him along, letting his hand slip down to rest between his shoulder blades.
“I’m terribly sorry to have you trailing around like a lost puppy, but would you follow me, dear?” he asked, though he did not hang around to wait for an answer. Instead, he pressed him forward, leading the man through a parting in the crowd and out toward the more open space at the foot of the stairs.
“How are you finding the auction? I suppose it must be a great deal of fun to be the one wanted in such a strange arrangement,” he mused.
oh he was so kind. benjamin smiled, a soft pink hue reddening his cheeks. “likewise,” he murmurs softly, leaning into the tiniest of touches. the blonde tilts his head to the side, golden curls falling this way and that. “thank you. i save it for special occasions. i am glad you like it.” he hums, following the man without question.
“oh to the ends of the earth,” he replied with a shy smile. the molly followed the baron through the crowd, a pleasant expression on his face. certainly, he had won out tonight. what a wonderful turn of events. at the baron’s words, benji cracked the smallest of grins. “the auction is one of my favorite times of year. it really is exciting and the whole night passes by in a glorious blur.”
“mm, right,” grace hummed sarcastically, rolling her eyes. he didn’t have to tell her if he didn’t want to, but it was a lame attempt at fibbing that grace saw through quite easily. “i know what you mean.” she nods in agreement, squeezing his hand softly. “are they here?” she didn’t need to know who it was; though the question was pulling at her.
he smiled at her kind gesture, bringing her hand to his lips like he usually did. “aye...i saw him earlier- only for a moment.” benji sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “perhaps i will see him again very soon.” the blonde watched as people moved towards the molly room. “i should get going, my dear. i wish you the best fortune.”
“Or someone sweet,” Peck teased. Oh, what a cherub he was. They felt a great pull to reach out and pinch his cheek. But for now they would rather not look too much a love-ridden sot. They must keep their scheme with Emory in mind, after all.
“I think I will,” they smiled, and, finally coming upon the drinks, sighed with relief. Their elbow dropped, and Benji’s hand slipped from their arm. “Well, little Benji, thank you for escorting me to the drinks,” Peck smiled, and clapped his shoulder. “Perhaps I’ll see you throughout the night.”
there was a slight blush on his cheeks as he shrugged. perhaps there would be someone special tonight, but he doubted it. either way, he was determined to have a pleasant time tonight. he selfishly thought he deserved it.
the blonde smiled at peck’s acceptance. “you are most certainly welcome, peck. i am happy to be in good company.” he nodded his head, before bowing it slightly. “i should hope so. have a pleasant evening, peck.” he smiled once again before retreating towards the stage.
