James Selby, the youngest son of a viscount, is making his first social appearance in London. He knows no one there--he’s staying with his ancient uncle, who disapproves of drinking, gambling, and apparently life.
He is being watched by the more experienced dandies and suddenly finds a drink in his hands and a hand on his chest. “What is your name?” a femininely painted masculine face was close to his.
James finds himself blushing--a condition he’s prone to. He delicately raises his lace fan, half-hiding his face as he quietly answers, “James Selby.”
“No, that won’t do. James is far too serious a name for such a pretty boy. Jamie suits you better. I am Auguste Craigvon.”
James, now Jamie, nibbles his lip, quickly downing the drink to invigorate himself. He blushes further at the compliment, noting his new companion’s, well…perfection. “My pleasure,” he says, with a dainty bow.
“Charming.” Auguste (formerly Augustine) smiled. “Care to join me in a game?”
“I would be delighted.” Encouraged, Jamie gently slides his gloved hand into Auguste’s.
They went to join a group of fops and dandies at the table, playing and drinking. To Auguste’s companions, it was clear he meant to make this young boy his protégé.
Jamie sits as close to his new companion as he can, eyes a little wide, fanning himself frequently and drinking anything that comes within reach, careful to remain poised and make witty conversation--he’s soon quite overwhelmed, glued to Auguste’s side.
Auguste notices his young friend’s discomfort, and whispers in Jamie’s ear, “Shall we retire to my flat?” with a devious smile.
Jamie nods, and they leave together.
***
Holden is wandering, more or less aimlessly, trying to find a likely target. He’s been robbing for about a year now, and each time gets easier. It helps that he’s large and intimidating, with the facial hair to match, so people seldom put up a struggle when he produces his large knife and demands their valuables. He has to work his trade more or less continually—the bulk of his ‘finds’ goes to gin.
Auguste and his new protégé are also wandering a little aimlessly. They’ve spent the majority of the night gambling and drinking away their money. Auguste is ready to retire at home and fuck his young friend into unconsciousness.
Holden is careful to never be drunk when he’s hunting, but he’s still a little startled when he comes around a corner and nearly walks into the pair of fops. His lips curl back in a predatory grin—fops are perfect prey. He’s stolen from several in the past, and they just scream and run away. And they’re always loaded. He walks past them with his head down, then slides behind the younger of the pair, placing his knife against the dainty, pale throat. “Your money, or this one gets it,” he growls, jabbing the serrated edge just a little into the powdered neck.
“Oh, don’t be foolish. Jamie, stay still.” Auguste sighs. “I’ll give you everything we have, just do put the knife away.”
“Not until I’m on my way with everything you’ve got,” the robber smirks.
Jamie squeals with terror, going white beneath his powder. “…Auguste!” he cries, aghast, trembling against the knife. He feels dangerously close to wetting himself.
Auguste takes out his purse, tossing it on the ground, eyebrow arching a little. “That’s all we have, we lost the rest in poker.”
Holden laughs throatily. “Much obliged, governors. I’m sure it will suffice. If you’ll just be on your way, you can continue with your evening.”
“Give me my boy, then.” Auguste said. “I can hardly sodomize myself.”
The thief looks briefly disgusted. “I don’t care about any of that. I’ll let him go once you’re on your way.”
Jamie gives a high-pitched sound of distress, whimpering, “Auguste…please, don’t leave me!”
“I won’t. I’ll trade you. You can have me and he can be on his way. Really, he’s quite helpless.” he offers his neck to the rough man.
“I can see that,” Holden growls. “That’s why I’ve got him and not you.” He considers for a moment, and decides that the situation is getting a little out of hand. Besides, he doesn’t like how calmly this ‘Auguste’ character is taking everything. He shoves his captive forward out of the way, watching the pair warily, not moving towards the purse yet. The knife is held by his side.
Auguste takes Jamie into his arms, kissing and gentling him, backing away and murmuring gentle things to him.
Jamie rushes into his new friend’s arms, crying histrionically and looking close to fainting in the best foppish style, his makeup running. A thin trickle of blood is staining his elaborate cravat.Holden smirks again, watching the show and waiting for them to leave so he can collect his prize.
Auguste pulls a sword out of his cane and puts it at Holden's throat. "If you were a gentleman, I'd offer you a duel. Since you're decidedly not, I shall do what I see fit with you."
Holden is momentarily shocked, but quickly strikes at the sword with his forearm, leaving a shallow cut on his neck, not caring about his arm, although there's quite a deep slice across it.
Auguste steps back, slapping Holden with the side of the blade and returning it to the man's neck, backing him against the wall. He draws his lip up in disgust. "Just because I'm a fop, doesn't mean I'll be easy to overpower, monsieur."
The thief is absolutely astonished to find himself against the wall, with this...powder puff...keeping him there. "Fine, keep your fucking purse," he snarls, pressing a hand to his wounded arm, slowly, so he won't startle the man with the sword. He doesn't really have enough room to maneuver like this, and he eyes the blade warily.
"Jamie, darling, would you collect my purse and give me your cravat?" Auguste sighed.
Jamie, who has been clinging to his rescuer this whole time, trembling, scurries to obey. He gathers the purse, offering it with a shaking hand to Auguste, and removing his cravat.
Auguste takes both of them, tucking the purse away and using the cravat to tie their attacker's wrists behind his back. Auguste had to lean in quite close to do this, pressing himself against the man. "Now, you'll be coming with us." he said, putting his sword-tip to the back of the man's neck. "Come, Jamie. We'll buy you twenty cravats tomorrow, I promise."
Jamie gives a long-suffering sigh, but nods, looking like he might burst into tears for a moment, before grinning broadly just as quickly, clapping his hands with delight. "Oh, bravo, Auguste! You handled him with such panache! What an adventure!"
"And you! Such courage, mon petit!" he kissed Jamie's cheek, leaving a little lipstick print.
Holden growls, but he can feel the cold steel pressing on his spine, and with not a small amount of pressure. He has little choice but to cooperate for the time being. He grimaces in disgust at their display. "Get on with it, then..."
"This way, then." Auguste grinned. "We'll have our work cut out for us, don't you think? He's such a savage -man-. I think if we don't take him to the barber soon he may just be choked to death by that horrible mess on his head!"
Jamie squeals, this time with delight. "Oh, are we keeping him, then! Is he to be our project? It's quite right, what -does- he need all that hair for?" They've both, at some point during the evening, taken it for granted that Jamie is now Auguste's completely.
"...what?!" Holden splutters, almost skewering himself. "I'm not going to be your...project! Just take me to the police and be done with it!"
"I think we'll be quite busy with him." Auguste chuckled. "Not only that, but we may need to find a larger flat. Mine would be perfect for two, but three? The thought of it!"
"...don't I get any say in this?!" Holden roars. "Look, you've got your money back, I think I've suffered enough!"
Jamie beams and fans Auguste, too overcome to speak.
"Of course you get a say! We simply won't listen." Auguste smiled, kissing Jamie again. He pushes Holden up against the wall of his flat, handing Jamie the keys to let them in.
Jamie blushes delicately at the kiss, nearly dropping the keys, his legs having gone all wobbly. He quickly lights a candle, trying to take in as much of the flat as possible, cooing and gushing over every ornament and piece of furniture.
Holden tries to make a break for it before this goes on too much longer.
Auguste presses the sword a little harder. "I wouldn't." he murmurs as Jamie flutters around inside. "What do you think would happen if I were to take you to the police with claims that you tried to murder my boy and myself? Who would they believe?" he stroked the man's jaw. "No, you'll stay with us and you'll behave yourself. In return, you have a place to sleep, a boy to fuck and all the food and drink you could want." Auguste purred.
Jamie briefly raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow at 'a boy to fuck', but is soon distracted by a painting.
Holden sneers and tries to pull away from the hand on his face, not liking where this is going one bit. "Not likely to get that for free," he snarls, "what do you want?" He winces a little at the increased pressure from the sword, eyes a little wide.
"A well-behaved man to groom and polish. Some amusement. Really, I'm a simple man," he chuckled.
The captive looks around at the extravagant display of excess in the flat, and looks rather incredulously at Auguste. "I don't swing that way."
"You've never sucked a man off for a bottle?" he asked. "Really, when we're done with you, you'll swing every way."
"Never," Holden says, proudly. "I'd rather swing from the gallows," he says, mostly convincingly.
Jamie has settled himself on a pretty chair and is watching eagerly.
"Then we shall head straight to the police station, since I'm sure that could be arranged for tomorrow morning. No doubt at some ungodly hour."
The thief swallows hard. "Good."
Auguste prods him, trying to start him moving. "Well?"
"Ah...well...it is quite late..." Holden says, with a slight stammer, "I'm sure they're closed and wouldn't appreciate the bother...and I'm sure you're exhausted...I'm sure it could wait til morning."
Auguste sighed. "Fine, in!" he ushers the man in, shooing him towards the bedroom. He closes and locks the door.
Holden takes one look at the frilly, flouncy bedding and shudders, throwing everything off except the simplest blanket and one pillow. Suddenly exhausted himself, he flops on the bed and is quickly asleep.
Jamie applauds, still beaming at his new hero.
Auguste chuckles, taking a dramatic bow. "I was wonderful, wasn't I?" he flounces over to tie Holden firmly to the bed,
Jamie watches, hesitating in the doorway for a moment, before seeing that the ruffian is asleep. "Absolutely superb! I was dreadfully frightened, but you were simply dashing! What is his name, I wonder? Though I'm sure it won't do at all."
"No, though I can't imagine such a rough name as to fit this mongrel!" Auguste dusted off his gloves, then took them off with a rather disgusted look. "I think we ought to burn those rags he calls clothes."
"I couldn't agree more! But I would hardly want to sully your fireplace..." He shudders as he looks at the gloves. "Oh, the acclaim you'll receive when he's presented in society!"
"It will be at least a month before he's ready to even leave this flat! In fact, we ought to figure out a more permanent arrangement, he's sure to escape if we leave him like this." he sighed, undoing his coat and cravat. "Let's distract ourselves in my bedroom, shall we?" he grinned.
Jamie nods, blushing again and a little overwhelmed...and not really sure what to expect.
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