Chapter Text
“You uh, you summoned me?” Ed drawled, leaning on the doorframe of the office, hands folded across his leather vest, black fisherman pants slung low on his hips, barely held there by a simple bowline knot.
Spanish Jackie nodded, filing the bundle of notes away in her drawer underneath the carved, wooden desk - an antique, she’d tell the new workers, beaming with pride, when everyone who’d stayed for more than a month knew she only kept the antique because it came with the building, and she was too cheap to spend a cent more on the business than she had to. “You’ve got an outcall, I’ll call the cab. It’s in the city, a hotel. Six hours.”
Ed let his jaw drop, picking up the piece of paper she’d pushed over with the address on it. “Six hours, that’s - what is that?” He wasn’t exactly known for his longer bookings - or any bookings, really. It had been a tough month, not helped by the knife he’d slammed into the furniture next to the thigh of the latest client who crossed him.
Spanish Jackie was still making him pay reparations for the bed-stand, even though Ed was pretty sure she’d just gotten it off the street and it certainly wasn’t a 1900s antique hand carved mahogany, no matter what the website copy said.
“One thousand eighty for you, six forty for me, plus travel,” Spanish Jackie replied. “Don’t turn this down, Ed. I’m taking another three hundred to pay for that nightstand before we’re even.”
“No, uh - I wasn’t thinking of it.” He squinted, studying the address further. “2504 - that’s pretty high up. Has he been here before?”
“Once or twice, and you’d do well not to ask any more questions when you get there - the last two guys he saw said he was fine, but refused to see him again, not that he’s ever asked for someone twice. Do you have something to chuck over that?”
Ed nodded - he had his clothes he’d come here in, though they weren’t exactly the type he’d prefer to go through a hotel lobby in.
“Great. Go get them, come back here. I’ll call the cab now. And Ed - don’t fuck this one up. We both know you need it.”
Ed swallowed, nodding tightly before slipping out of the office, clutching the paper in his hand like a lifeline. He made a beeline for the dressing room, cutting through the boys room as he did.
Lucius was sat there, sketchbook in hand, blanket covering his legs, curled in the corner on the old, stained couches. He raised his head at the sound of the door opening. “What’d she want with you?”
“Outcall, mate,” Ed said, words tight. He was pretty good with most people around here by now but still - better to limit what anyone else knows about you. They didn’t play by the same rules as the rest of the world. “What time do you finish?”
“Four, though if it stays as quiet as this, do you think the old witch will let me knock off early?”
Ed laughed - they asked the same question every night, but no one had ever seen Jackie acquiesce to that request. Rumour had it they’d throw a party if she ever did. “I’ll see you when I come back then,” he said, throwing a brief two finger salute before retreating.
“Don’t die,” Lucius called out, sing song, as the doors shut. Ed trotted briskly down the stairs and into the dressing room. There were a few people in here, but he ignored them, yanking his worn duffel bag down from his locker and rifling for the oversized jacket he’d come here in, head down and shoulders hunched on the street, begging for no one to recognise him.
He found it, slipping the black, torn trench around him, tying off the waist to cinch it in, smoothing down the collar so his neck and face were shown for once rather than his usual style of pushing it up to hide himself. The sleeves sat weirdly on him - it was heated in here, designed for men wearing vests with light pants and nothing else, or on one memorable occasion, a kimono barely fitting the new boy (though he didn’t last the week, they rarely did). The synthetic fabric of the overcoat was uncomfortable, clinging to him, more suited for the cold streets of London than the red lights where his priority was clothes he could shed on demand and not take too long putting back on after.
He tucked his phone in his pocket, pausing at the last minute to grab a twenty quid note in case he needed to beat a quick exit, and slid his shoes on - tall leather boots, covered in mud and muck, but it was too late to clean them now. Jackie’s office was warm when he slid back into it, giving her a nod and settling into the chairs near the door to wait for the cab.
“Do you have cash on you?”
“No, madam,” he said, curling his hand around the twenty pound note in his pocket.
“Take this,” she said, passing him a fifty quid note, “for the cab, and bring me the receipt and change. Don’t fuck me over on this one, or I’ll take you off the roster for good.”
He nodded, thanking her as he palmed the notes behind the paper with the address. The buzzer rang and she looked up at the cameras before giving him a nod - right, that was the cab then. The night air hit him with a chill as he opened the door, mumbling platitudes to the driver waiting there before buckling in the back, staring out the window.
The last two guys he saw said he was fine, but refused to see him again, not that he’s ever asked for someone twice - so he’s one of the weird ones then, which that was fine, he could handle that. Jackie could be a right asshole, but even she wouldn’t send him out to someone who’d gut him like a fish, so there was that. He drummed his fingers on the door panel. How in the fuck was he going to spend six hours with someone? He’d not done more than a half hour in months, and his days of multi hours were well behind him, as soon as the new boy craze wore off.
The night sky was foreboding as he gazed out into it, watching streetlights whip by. The cab had heating on - small mercies - and he rested his head against the window, wondering how his life had hit this stage, wondering if he ever had any chance but to end up here.
The hotel came up quickly, and he fumbled giving the note to the driver, tucking the change and receipt into his pocket before braving the night air once more. Head down, through the lobby, straight to the elevators - walk like you belong here and they’ll never question you, even if his clothes were too oversized for a five star hotel, his gait a little too uneven, and hair a little too tangled.
Thank god they weren’t the kind with swipes, Ed thought, pressing the 25 and settling back into the mirrored walls to wait.
The doors opened with a soft ding, and he followed the signs, 2500-2520 ->, turning left and counting numbers until 2504 popped up, soft and unassuming and yet holding the key to something that made his stomach twist, but he hadn’t paid rent yet so he needed to ignore that, thank you very much. He lifted his hand and knocked twice, softly.
“It’s open,” a voice called from inside, light and high and definitely a man, so that was good at least.
Edward took a deep breath and twisted the handle, stepping into a suite that was bigger than his entire apartment what the fuck, shutting the door softly behind him. “Jackie sent me,” he offered by way of explanation, the words coming out stilted and awkward already and aw shit he really needed to not fuck this one up.
The figure on the couch rose, all silks and sheer drapery, the white oversized shirt hanging off his arms, tucked into black, sharp pants, matching the loafers that were polished at his feet, not even a blade of grass clinging to the soles.
Edward suddenly felt very, very out of place in his old, long jacket, held together with a fraying tie.
“Aren’t you resplendent,” the man breathed, and Edward was pretty sure he needed a dictionary for that one but figured it was some kind of complement, dragging his eyes up to meet the man’s, seeing the blush flood his cheeks as he took in the sight of Edward standing there. “I do apologise, I don’t do this kind of thing very often, you’ll have to let me know if I transgress.”
“No, it’s alright mate,” Ed said, walking further into the suite, as if he could avoid the uncomfortably beaming stare by simply getting closer. “The, uh - the cash?”
“Oh, of course! Right here, on the table. I did count it but please, feel free to double check,” the man said, stepping back to reveal an utterly stuffed envelope on the coffee table behind him. “I apologise, I ordered champagne, but um, it took me a while to get….settled in, and I think the ice has melted.”
Edward peered over at the bucket on the bench. Yep. That was a bunch of cold water alright.
Also, champagne?! What was this man doing with hookers?
“I’ll call room service, get them to send up another one,” the man waffled, and what?
“Uh, no, don’t worry, it’s fine mate,” Edward said, grabbing the envelope from the coffee table, heavy in his hands. “Mind if I freshen up? Make a call?”
“Oh, of course!” the other man exclaimed, the tips of his ears turning red, taking a few steps back so fast Edward was worried he was going to topple over. “The bathroom is through the hall, just back where you came. Take your time, don’t worry.”
What the fuck kind of hotel room has a hall?
Edward thanked him, dragging his dirty boots across the lush, cream carpet, back to the front door, back to so close and he could be out of here but that was a stupid idea and he tried not to let himself think it, because everyone who thought they could screw over Jackie turned up dead at some point. He took the left into the bathroom as gestured, locking the door behind him.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, turning on the tap to cover the sound of his voice.
Jackie answered, quick as always. “Have you fucked it up yet?”
“Nah mate, it’s all fine,” Edward answered, and for a brief moment he wondered what he’d say if it wasn’t, if he needed to get out and the man was listening at the door, but it was a bit too late to think about that one now. “I’ll see you in six hours?”
“You’ll need to call the cab back yourself, I trust you remember the address,” Jackie said, before the dial tone sounded in his ears.
Great. Edward turned to the envelope, sliding a crusted thumbnail underneath it, lifting the flap up slowly before counting the cash, separating it out in stacks of 500s, counting twice when he noticed his math was off because 5 stacks of 500 certainly didn’t add up to 1720, but he wasn’t about to tell the man. Grinning, he slid the excess into his pocket before wrapping the full fee around itself and putting it back in the envelope, sliding that into his leftmost jacket pocket and zipping it up. He stared at himself in the mirror, feeling too dirty, too covered in sweat and London grime to be in this room, and grimaced, splashing the water up his hands, rubbing his face until it was the cleanest he was about to get.
Right, time to work out what weird shit this guy was into, then.
He opened the door to the sound of a soft voice, insistent, stubborn, and rounded the corner to see the man arguing on the phone. “No, I want another bucket, send it now, I know you’ve done your best but this is unacceptable. Room 2504. Leave it out the front, please. I know it will be charged to my bill, I don’t care.”
His expression changed then, smoothing as he turned and caught sight of Ed. The tension seemed to go out of his shoulders, dropping, standing to his full height. “Thank you, that will be all,” the man said, softly, placing the telephone back down on its receiver. “I’m sorry about that, it’ll be fixed momentarily. I um, I believe it’s still cold, would you like a glass?”
Of champagne? Fuck yes, Ed thought, before shrugging his shoulders at the man, nonchalant. “I suppose, if you’re uh, having,” he replied, stumbling over his words, standing awkwardly at the entrance to the lounge and what kind of hotel had a shitting fucking lounge, this was ridiculous.
“Of course, it’s only polite,” the other man replied, inclining his head, smiling. “Please, let me take your coat. Have a seat, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
Edward laughed softly at that one, stepping into the room, sliding his coat off his shoulders to expose his simple leather vest. He passed it over it over to the man, before walking to the couch that took up most of the room, easing onto it. There was no way to prevent discomfort in his line of work, but he’d take the reprieve while he could.
The man came over, soft halogens shining through the mop of curls sitting around his face, pale skin reflecting the dark from the windows, two glasses in hand. “Cheers, then,” he said, giving one to Ed and holding his own out.
Ed clinked it, and drowned the flute in one gulp.
The bubbles hit his stomach immediately and he coughed, doubling over, spluttering, ruining the small scraps of dignity he’d stepped into this room with.
“Oh, oh no,” the man said, moving closer, placing his hand on Edwards’ back, rubbing firmly in circles. “I suppose I should’ve asked what your normal beverage of choice is, I’m sorry.”
“Not much of a - a champagne drinker, mate,” Ed coughed out, hunched over, forearms on his legs as the worst of it passed. “I don’t mind it though, I’ve just - it’s not something we usually see, back at Jackie’s.”
The mans’ face twisted in - was that displeasure? Did he have any idea who he’d hired? Edward was never very good at the whole class drag thing and he took a breath, visualising the next six hours ahead, where he constantly tripped over himself and broke lines he didn’t know where there.
“No champagne? Gosh, tell me they don’t have you drinking beer over there,” the man exclaimed, moving back on his side of the sofa, placing a respectful distance between them which would’ve made sense for anyone but a hooker. “Here, I’ll get you another glass.”
“Cheers, uh…” Ed trailed off, realising that he’d made a fool of himself before he’d even gotten the guys name.
Great. Worlds’ Best Hooker award, coming to yours truly, any day now.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ve been a terrible host,” the man babbled, fiddling about in the kitchenette behind him. “I’m Stede, I should’ve introduced myself the moment I saw you, I was just simply astounded at the sight of you.”
Yeah, and at the sight of me tracking in mud into this suite that probably cost more than myself, Edward thought, watching Stede come back over to him, accepting the flute and letting it hang between his fingers this time, dangling low.
A knock rung through the expansive space, and Stede walked briskly to the door. Ed heard the murmurs of a hushed conversation between them, before Stede returned, carrying a metal bucket with condescension running off the sides.
Well, he wouldn’t be the only one ruining the carpet then.
“The ice has arrived, I’m so sorry it wasn’t here before,” Stede said, lifting the open bottle of champagne and placing it in the new bucket, bringing it to the coffee table between them. “I’ve been in town with work, publishing - it’s a strange industry - and I thought my night meeting was going to run longer, but it didn’t, and then you’re here, and well.”
“Nah, it’s alright,” Ed said gruffly, swirling the champagne in his glass. “It’s just booze.”
“Right, that it is,” Stede said, settling back on the couch, pressing into the far side, more than an arms length away. “It’s really quite good if you take it slow. Smaller sips.”
Ed took a sip, letting the bubbles race down his throat, sighing into the glass as the taste of the alcohol relaxed him. “Yeah. Reckon it is, hey.”
Silence hung between them, uncomfortable, stretching on and on. Edward knew he wasn’t good at conversing, not with the rich boys, but he didn’t realise he’d accidentally closed off the conversation until it had been too long to open it back up again.
Don’t ask too many questions, Jackie had said, and yet Edward hadn’t been in a more awkward booking in years. He wasn’t good at this. Didn’t get booked for the long ones, didn’t have his circus of regulars like the others did, didn’t manage to “foster relationships” or whatever it was that Frenchie was always telling him he should do. The silence stretched on, and on, and on. The sound of the central air kicked in, low, humming, before kicking back off again minutes later, and both of them barely moved except to take small sips from the flutes.
He almost didn’t want to break it at this point. Sure, six hours in silence wasn’t the best way to spend a booking, but at least it gave the other parts of his body a rest. He was working six days this week, though with this booking he could probably afford to take a couple off, but everything was late and starting to pile up and - no, he needed to get on top of this.
Still, it would be good if this rich boy, obviously awkward, staring ahead of him and keeping his eyes off Ed’s body at any cost possible - it would be good if he got booked again, with a tip this fat.
Ed sighed. Paused. Sighed again, quieter this time. He was going to have to do it.
“So uh, you want your cock sucked, mate?”
As silence-breakers go, it wasn’t the best, quickly evidenced by Stede sputtering, champagne flying from his mouth, stemmed by the hand he brought up to cover it.
Ed shuffled over, awkwardly reaching his hand out, patting Stede on the back in a less-elegant mimicry of what he’d received earlier. The man violently recoiled at the touch, jerking away, and well. Jackie had implied he was weird.
Back to his own side of the couch then, ignoring the show to the right of him, letting Stede gather his bearings in his own time. Ed looked out the window, steadfast, refusing to deviate, looking at the city alight below him, streetlights shining in the London night.
Six hours, hey?
The coughing died off, small sputterings into the silence of the night. Ed kept his eyes forward. There was nothing to do with a man who didn’t want anything to do with him, and besides, with that amount of cash, surely even the most reluctant man could work out what he desired from the hooker he’d just hired.
That was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it? Edward had one role here, something easy to fulfil, a mouth and an asshole and a couple of ears for filtering out whatever they said between, nodding along and trying to make all the right sounds, but at the end of the day - he was a hooker, and he was hired for a reason. This rich boy, this man dressed sharp, cut in finery, draping off the most excellent parts of his body - and here Edward stole a look, cutting to the side, hiding his eyes under his hair to note how that white shirt hung off his toned physique - it wasn’t Edward’s fault he had no idea what to do with a man. He’d tried, at the end of the day. It would be a one of a kind booking and he’d be back to scraping by with half hours soon, hoping he didn’t have another zero day, another day waiting and presenting and preening only to go home with his wallet lighter in the pocket from the cab fare.
He was trying, and sometimes little boys didn’t know what they wanted, and that wasn’t his fault. Jackie had said that he never requested the same boy twice, so it wasn’t like any negative feedback was going back to the boss to harm him either way.
Stede coughed.
Edward turned to the side, recognising a summons when he heard one. He placed his empty flute down on the coffee table, taking a second to pause and inhale, the white marble burning into his eyes.
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
If you wouldn’t - oh, Ed realised, with all the force of a punch to the chest, and hey, by his count he’d gotten to hang out, wait and do nothing for forty minutes. Better than he expected walking into his shift, anyway.
“Sure mate,” he ground out, dropping from the couch, crawling over to where Stede was sat, still refusing to meet his eyes, staring out the window - and c’mon, Ed might be late on rent and paying for booze on tick, but he knew he wasn’t that bad of a looker. Besides, there was nothing out this late, this high up, nothing to stare at but the stars and light pollution.
He raised his hands to Stede’s pants, slipping the clasp easily, unbuttoning the waistband and pulling out the fly. His briefs were nice, unstained, and a language Ed didn’t recognise embroidered around the waistband. They felt like velvet under his hands, slowly sliding down, until Stede’s cock was exposed.
Completely and utterly soft.
Well, Ed thought, they did have six hours.
He lowered his mouth, using his right hand to grip the base, position it upwards, and enveloped the entirty within his warm, wet mouth. He wrapped his lips around the base, tonguing the shaft, tracing circles around Stede’s length.
Above him, Stede sighed, settling back in the chair, legs spreading as much as his pants allowed. The material was taut under Ed’s face, a convenient spot to rest his wrist as his hand began to pump up and down Stede’s hardening length, keeping his mouth sucking on the head of his cock.
Stede’s hand found Ed’s hair, nesting in the curls at his neck, a soft grip. The pads of his fingers pressed lightly against the base of Ed’s skull, splaying out, and Ed began to gag as Stede’s length hardened to the point of reaching his throat. He pulled off, allowing his drool to form a line between the tip of Stede’s cock and his mouth, looking up through his dark eyelashes.
Stede hadn’t moved his sight from the London sky.
Well then, Ed thought, closing his eyes. It wasn’t like he had to look, he reasoned, resuming sucking with force, allowing his right hand to form a loose fist, pumping Stede’s cock. He pulled back the foreskin, running his tongue along the sensitive underside, before letting his fingers fall to a simple ring and taking it completely down his throat, nose nestled in Stede’s sparse amount of pubic hair, soft and curling around his face.
Stede moaned, shifting again, and the fingers at the back of Ed’s head became more insistent, lightly beckoning a rhythm, flexing in time with their breath. Ed followed it, taking Stede’s now large length with ease, allowing his breath to settle in time with the small thrusts Stede had began to make. It was easy, at the end of the day. It was a rhythm and a music, one he was used to, orchestrated by the man which had just handed him three times his rent like it was nothing.
Stede moaned again, stuttering, and Ed chanced a look up, mouth buried at the base of his cock.
He met Stede’s eyes, staring down at him, dark, smouldering, barely visible by the blonde curls fallen in his face, and at the sight Stede let out another soft cry, bucking his hips erratically, his hand keeping Ed’s head in place.
God, he was glad this place had plush carpet.
They kept their eyes locked, Ed letting his go glassy whilst he thought of other things, thought of what he was going to occupy the rest of his time with, what he was going to do when he left, how he was going to spend the new day off he’d just decided to have.
Stede didn’t seem to notice - they never did - staring with beautiful, unblinking, baby blue eyes, too innocent for the strings of salvia coating Ed’s face, for the mess he was making on the floor between them.
Another groan, and Ed realised the man was begging, a litany of please and god and Mary from his mouth and - hang on, Mary?
Stede fisted his hand in Ed’s hair now, fully fucking his throat, pushing Ed’s face deeper into his cock until Ed’s nose burned from being smashed into his pubic bone. He tried to keep calm, to remember to breathe.
“Please, please, fuck,” Stede was yelping above him, voice breaking on the profanity and-
-and Ed found himself across the room, splayed out on his back, his chest burning from where he’d been shoved, two hands on the front of his chest, reconstructing the scene in his mind as he made sense of the sudden roof he was seeing, his hands behind him, supporting his back, his thighs burning from the awkward position he’d been forced into with the violent push.
He wiped his mouth, smearing spit across his face, rubbing the excess on his wrist into the fuckin plush carpet underneath him. “Jesus, I get if you don’t want to cum, but you can just tell me to stop, y’know. I’m not an asshole. I”m not going to leave as soon as you do, but fuckin hell man. Use your words.”
Stede was silent.
Ed looked up, suddenly keenly aware of the difference between them, of his own body spread out on the floor, belly exposed, face covered in spit and precum, hair messy, and Stede above him, every bit the put together gentleman, save for the erect cock jutting up from his hips.
Stede was refusing to look at him again, eyes hard, lips tight, staring into the distance.
Ed moved his legs, shifting forward, tucking them under each other until he sat, cross legged, the own beginnings of an erection stirring against his thigh. “Come on man,” he said, frustration colouring every word, “you can’t just shove me. I’m going to get in trouble if I come back bruised.”
He wouldn’t, but it was an easy excuse to ward off the rougher of them. Jackie would never know either way.
Stede continued to ignore him, staring dead eyed into the distance, body tense as a bowline, his shoulders drawing a tight line, thighs clenched, body weight on his toes, pressing divots into the carpet.
“Get out.”
It was low, quiet, so low Edward knew he misheard with all the force he knew he didn’t mishear at all.
“Excuse me, mate?”
“Leave. I’m sorry to be an ungracious host, but you need to go. Get out. Now,” Stede said, still averting his gaze, refusing to look at Edward’s ungraceful form on the floor. His cock was still at full attention, precum beading at the tip.
“Look, you still have ages left,” Ed attempted, placating. “Jackie is going to ask questions. It’s okay, we can just relax for a bit. Don’t be so serious, man.”
Stede exhaled, though the movement didn’t lessen the tension in his body, Ed noted, and fuck he knew the guy was going to be weird but this was next level. “I’m terribly sorry. There’s been a misunderstanding. You need to leave. I will call Jackie. Please, get your things and depart from this premises now.”
“Jesus, man,” Ed grumbled, picking himself up from the floor, trying to ignore the humiliation heating his cheeks. “Whatever, it’s your time.”
Stede continued to avert his eyes, his cock staying stiff and hard, jutting out from his briefs, precum running freely down his shaft, and why wouldn’t he just tuck it back in? Edward got up, grabbing his jacket from where Stede had hung it, shrugging into the faded overcoat and yeah, he knew he didn’t fit here, but he didn’t need to be treated like it either. He tied it off around his waist before heading to the front door of the suite, palming each pocket to check and yeah, everything was there, the guy wasn’t going to stiff him.
He should be discreet. He knew this. Hooker rule number one.
He threw off a loud “Have a nice night,” as he opened the door, pulling it shut and trying to slam it behind him, kicking the scalloped moulding of the hotel hall when he realised he was on one of those fucking stupid slow release systems.
Whatever. He got paid, way more than he should’ve, and Jackie wouldn’t question him when he complained about his lack of tip and weird fuckin man and she’d let all the usual boys room grumbling slide. This would be no different.
It was just one weird booking, he told himself, stabbing the lift call button, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching over in the tiny mirrored elevator.
One weird booking, he mentally repeated, calling the cab from his phone and yes he could pay cash, thank you, he’ll be at the hotel, sitting in the chairs in the lobby to wait.
One fuckin weird booking, and he stared out, street level, watching London rush by him. Just one weird booking that would never happen again and he’d never have to think about stupid Stede and his stupid fucking hard cock and his willingness to splash too much money on hookers like him again.
It was just one booking, and by the time he’d gotten back to Spanish Jackie’s, full of apologies and I don’t know what happened, and he’d fixed his shirt in the dressing room, and Lucius had pestered him for all the gristly details he’d refused to give, he’d almost forgotten about it entirely.