Oh all the favours Connor could have asked of Caspian, it had to be this. It wasn’t like Caspian could say no; For one, Connor had killed a guy for him, free of charge. But more importantly, Connor was scary and Caspian wasn’t idiot enough to say no to someone like him.
It wasn’t like what Connor was asking of him was difficult. After all, most of the time it was part of Caspian’s job, yet he still had to force himself to think that this was no different than one of those scenarios. Except it was, because if he screwed up then it would be Connor he had to deal with, and he didn’t feel like the man would be very sympathetic towards any potential mistakes.
Caspian wasn’t even entirely confident that Connor knew what he was doing, by including Caspian in this particular task. He could handle blood, Connor had seen that for himself, but this was a hell of a lot of pressure. He kept teling himself it wouldn’t be that bad, that Connor would have gone with someone else if he thought Caspian was incapable of doing this.
He frowned when the door was opened and told he was late. “Am not.” He proceeded to check the time on his phone and realised he was, in fact, five minute late. “Oh…My bad,” he offered, apologetically, even though Connor didn’t seem that bothered at the current moment. He followed Connor, looking around anxiously until the question hit him. “Urm…Now, gives me time for ‘mental preparation’.”
That same nervous energy, the low thrum of anxiety Connor had picked up on last time was flowing off Caspian in waves once more and he had to bite back a smirk. “Do you always need mental preparation before sucking someone off?” He asked idly, his tone low and slightly sardonic; though there was no meanness in his gaze. “Though I do admit I might have simplified it a little.” Texting had never been Connor’s favorite means of communication and he’d had to make his point fast.
Stepping out into the cool air, Connor didn’t even pay attention to where he was going, feet taking him where he needed to go automatically. Instead he had his attention on Caspian, tone a little more serious, though it retained that hint of dryness. “Hardwick’s fundraisers are always posh affairs,” He raised a pointed eyebrow at Caspian’s clothes, “Not to mention extravagant, because the bloke wouldn’t know actual class if it stared him in the face.” They were garish at best, those galas. Tedious and clownish. “I managed to wrangle myself an invite and you will come with as my plus one.”
Guiding them down a smaller, cobbled street that seemed to be largely untouched from signs of the looting, Connor let out a small sigh and fixed his blue eyes on the other once more. “We’ll mingle first. I don’t know how good you are at making yourself appear to know more than you really do, but it’d probably be better if you just shut up and smiled along with what I said. What I’d mainly need you for is to act as a distraction once we get to Hardwick. How good are you at charming people? Seducing them?”
They arrived where Connor wanted them to be, a small tailor that one needed to know about to find. Pushing the door open, Connor let his entire demeanour change, as if he was morphing from one person to another, way more pleasant one. The smile on his face was wide and warm for all that it didn’t much reach his eyes and he accepted the hug graciously enough when he got greeted enthousiastically by the tailor in question, a very, very gay bloke called Harold. “Not for me this time, love.” Harold’s eyes picked up on Cas. “Oh, fresh meat! Delightful! But oh, darling, what on earth are you wearing?” Connor watched as Harold practically bustled Cas away, telling him to strip. There was a large grin on his face, eyes radiating dark amusement.
Of all the uses Caspian Turner could have for him, Connor had never thought one of them would actually turn out to be his mouth. Turner hadn’t even been phased by his demand; no question as to how Connor had even found out he sold his body for money
(which, frankly, was not a memory he wanted to revisit because it included a very drunk bloke at a bar using the words ‘mouth like a fucking hoover’ and ‘it certainly made getting that dick tattoo worth it’)
and he couldn’t help feeling faintly impressed. Mostly amused, but faintly impressed none the less.
Not impressed with Turner, of course. More impressed with how it had apparently only taken a few vaguely threatening looks and a butchered body to make the boy jump at his beck and call. Connor had wondered what else he could get him to do. There was certainly potential.
People would be surprised at how many times he’d had to play the seduction game to get a certain job done, — the idea that there was actually someone he could use for those purposes would be a proverbial goldmine. Still, better not to count his chickens before they were hatched. He could be patient. Give the boy a test run.
Besides, he couldn’t forget Caspian’s reaction to seeing him shirtless. Subtle, he was not. It’d been a while since he’d actually felt that amused by anyone other than Spencer.
The knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts and Connor threw open the door. “You’re five minutes late.” His tone was pleasant, though the twist of his mouth was sharp, blue eyes giving Turner a lazy once over. Same old hobo clothes, of course. Not for much longer. “Follow me.” He stepped out, shrugging into his leather jacket. “You want the debrief now or later?”
Wintour. The old hag got me banned from Vogue after I mouthed her off. Apparently, after ages in the industry, she still can’t take criticism. My pleasure.
Isn’t she the one with the helmet haircut and the sunglasses? What exactly did you tell her that got you banned?
That is exactly how I feel every time someone even dares to mention the name Anna in my presence. If you are willing to keep him in your list, even after how you feel about him, then he’s definitely someone that sounds like he gets the work done. Thank you, I will definitely contact him.
Anna? And you’re quite welcome. I figured I could give you something in return for keeping me entertained.