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It's Not Jail

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Kinksman Club, or as it was known to the inner circles KC, catered to the rich and criminal class of London. It was extremely exclusive and extremely private. Invitation only. And the only way one could get an invitation was by being a nefarious criminal mastermind. Goons and henchmen were parked in the Black Prince pub above the club to wait for their big bad bosses. The worst kind of scum came to the KC. Murderers, assassins, slavers...and occasionally a consulting criminal popped in to say ‘Hi’.

Tonight, however, the posh criminal club was visited by an older gentleman with an immaculate suit. Even though it wasn’t raining or even threatening to do so, he had an umbrella with him. Any other time, a man strolling into the Black Prince pub in a suit might have looked out of place, but to the thugs that gathered near the KC’s entrance...he looked the type that might want to hire some extra muscle for his budding criminal empire. One particularly burly fellow stopped his progress into the club, holding out his hand in a silent demand to see his invitation.

The gentleman gave him a withering sort of look, one that said ‘I have no time for the likes of you’, but the smooth black card was produced from inside the inner pocket of the gentleman. He held it out for inspection. The thug held it up to a small black light, revealing a glowing KC in fancy cursive. The gentleman raised a brow and the thug handed the card back, allowing Harry Hart to ease by into the “secret” entrance of the club.

Harry Hart eased into the super exclusive sex club like he owned the place. It was a darker side of the small pub above. A darker side run by a terrible criminal kingpin, one whose speciality was human trafficking. While Harry Hart would have loved to take down the whole place, he couldn’t. The roots were too deep, if they pounced on this small operation, they’d have to spend months finding the next.

And Harry wasn’t there to put a stop to things.

Harry strolled through the solid black door and stalled just one moment as he took in the sight of the club. It was small and had the distinct feel of a strip club. In fact it seemed to be more or less a strip club. However, there were key differences. While there was one large stage with a glistening golden pole, there were a few smaller stages as well. The performers were youthful, young men and women. But they didn’t appear to be stripping...they simply were on stage and naked as they ran through routines. Their eyes were dead...lifeless...and Harry could see the marks left from needles. They were hooked on drugs, without a doubt it was one of the various methods to control them.

“Welcome, may I be of service to you?” A very slight young man, with just a small server’s apron, smiled tiredly at Harry. He was clearly meant to be the greeter. Harry’s eyes flickered to the ankle cuffs. The young fellow shifted a bit, “Sir?” He knew what Harry was looking at, but he was trying his best to ignore it.

“Stay focused, Galahad…” Merlin’s voice in his ear reminded Harry he was on a mission and blowing his cover just inside the door wouldn’t help any of these lost souls.

He cleared his throat, “I have a private session.”

The young greeter seemed relieved that Harry began talking, he shuffled behind his small podium to check over a ledger there. “What’s the name?”

“De Vere.”

The greeter scanned a finger down the ledger, his timid smile fell though as he looked at whatever was written there. Harry subtly scanned the writing upside-down. New client. Good time. Over the name ‘Hector’ (Lancelot’s alias) was a bright red: MISSING.

“Well, looks like this rescue mission was for nothing…”

“Oh, I...just one moment…” The greeter stammered softly as he turned and shuffled around into a small alcove clearly meant for coats. Harry could hear the soft murmur of voices, then something loud thumping hard into the floor! A few moments later, the greeter returned. His eyes were brimmed with tears and there was a red hand print starting to show on one side of of face.

He smiled shakily at Harry. Harry’s fist clenched around his umbrella.

“Easy, Harry.”

“Mister De Vere, due to some unfortunate circumstances, the entertainer you’ve selected for your session is unavailable. We do have another performer you would like very much, he’s very highly recommended.”

Harry started to turn to go, “Oh, no, that’s quite alright--”

“Please.” The greeter gasped, grabbing his sleeve. “Please, you have to.” He whispered, desperate, but not on his behalf.

Harry’s brows drew together, did this fellow know Harry wasn’t a criminal? Before Harry could test that theory, someone stepped out of the coat checking room. He struck Harry as the sort that shouldn’t be able to run such an operation. A thug with money. He was brutish, tall, and had a swagger that gave Harry the distinct impression that this fellow had some chaffing. this was the kingpin. He looked at the small greeter, with a hand on Harry’s sleeve, and then scowled.

The little greeter didn’t have time to let go before he was sent to the floor with a heavy handed backhand. He didn’t cry out, he didn’t whimper, he just crumpled and held his hands over his head to avoid another similar blow. Before that happened, Harry stepped casually between the greeter and the kingpin thug.

“So what’s this I hear about my private session being changed?”

The kingpin frowned a moment then smiled, it was a too pleasant smile. “Ah, you’re De Vere...yes...uh, we had a bit of a...mishap. The bloke you wanted isn’t available.”

“Why not?” The fellow seemed to be searching for a lie, “The book there says he’s gone missing. Am I to assume you’ve had a bit of a security breach and your merchandise has run off?”

“Oh, very subtle…”

The kingpin thug stared a long moment, a very long moment. His eyes flickered to the ledger and then the greeter, who was slowly standing, and finally to Harry. He seemed to think, seemed to consider how Harry could have guessed, but even he could see the bright red letters from where he stood. So, slowly, he grinned again.

He shrugged, “It happens, I have dogs tailing him.” Was all he said as he threw a casual arm over Harry’s shoulders. “I am sorry about that, of course, I can tell why you picked him. Older, refined...bit more your taste. But this other one you’ll love. He’s quite popular he is. I tell you he moves like water.”

Harry was drawn further into the club by the kingpin, who was guiding him towards the back of the club. They worked through a series of other clients watching the main stage performers.

“I appreciate the offer, I do, but--”

“Good!” The kingpin laughed as he shoved open a door to a private room and gave Harry a good-natured shove inside. “You take as much time as you like, this is on the house.” And with that, the door was closed.

Harry blinked a bit, taking in the leather arm chair that greeted him in the mostly plain room. He sighed a bit, checking the door once. It wasn’t locked. So his guise was working.

“We’ve got eyes on James, he’s fine. He has all the evidence we need to bring the club down.”

“And what about me? I can’t just walk out, now can I?”

“Ah, well, no…” There was a soft clacking of keys as Merlin worked. “He’s seated himself at a table nearby, he’s watching. You’re at least going to have to stay for an hour.”

Harry sighed and removed his glasses just a moment to rub at the bridge of his nose. He slipped them on slowly and nodded. “One hour…” He mumbled and sat slowly. At least the chair was comfortable. Harry was just getting settled in when the door opened again.

This time it wasn’t the kingpin who entered, nor was it the greeter.

It was a drop dead gorgeous young man. Harry couldn’t help but swallow thickly at the young’s muscular physique. His long legs. His beautiful eyes and lips. Harry was shocked and pleasantly so. He was pale and his hair was far shorter than Harry felt was necessary. Even so, he looked amazing. The soft hum of appreciation in his ear from Merlin said the desk bound kingsman was thinking the same things. Harry’s eyes flickered lower, unable to help but take in the young man’s scantily clad hips. Hips that cocked in a sassy fashion.

Whoever this young man was, he wasn’t a broken plaything like the rest of the soulless and lost people that were performers here. He was very much in charge...or as much as one could be in his situation.

Without waiting, the young man dimmed the lights and music started. It wasn’t the same throbbing, thumping, that was playing out in the club. It was softer, more intimate. Harry might have complimented it, if his vision wasn’t suddenly full of a very handsome, smirking, face. The younger man leaned over Harry’s chair, his lips barely grazing the man’s ear. “Let me get you a drink…” His voice wasn’t suave or sophisticated. It was gruff, but Harry’s pulse raced and his fingers pressed into the leather of the chair, using it as a lifeline.

The young performer chuckled, it was a throaty sound, as he leaned back and bent over, right before Harry, giving the man an ample, long, view of his long legs. He was wearing...briefs...very small and very black. They weren’t leaving much to the imagination. As he bent over, Harry was able to see a small tattoo near his hip just under the curve of the band of his briefs. It was a simple ‘E’ in beautiful cursive.

“Mister E?” Harry mumbled, he raised a hand to it, but hovered just shy of making contact. “May I?”

The young man looked over at Harry, almost surprised by the question. Clearly he was used to clients that grabbed and did as they liked. It was a criminal club after all. Still, he flashed a gorgeous grin and nodded, helpfully backing his hip into Harry’s waiting hand. Harry traced the smooth skin over the tattoo, he did appreciate good art…

A few moments later, the young man gently pulled away, turning to offer Harry a tumbler half full of an amber liquid. Harry took a small sip, doing his best not to make a face as the cheap whiskey he was presented with. His mind was taken off the bad alcohol, though, as the young man settled down between his knees. His long fingers were moving up Harry’s thighs, towards his fly, he wet his lips, almost as if he was eager to see just what was behind it. Harry might have been inclined to let him find out...if Merlin wasn’t making soft humming noises in his ear.

Harry gently reached out to stop the young man, who gave him a curious look. “You don’t...want the special?”

Harry shook his head, “I do, certainly, but...I rather would like to have it after I’ve gotten to know you a little better.” He took his hand to lay a soft kiss on the back of it. “And of your own accord, not because I’m a paying customer.”

The young man was blushing now. He’d clearly never had this happen. So, he stood slowly, and moved to pluck a small robe from behind the leather chair. Slipping it on, before he settled on the arm of the chair. Harry offered him the drink, which the young man took slowly.

“Well, the boss said you have me as long as you like…”

“I only need to take an hour of your time--” The young man gave Harry a sad look, “--but what’s the harm in staying a bit longer?” He coaxed a smile from the young man’s lips. “I suppose it’s not usual to get someone like this?”

The young man shook his head, “It’s a bit like getting a second break.” He smiled and stretched, “I rather like it...I should come back so I can do this again.” He was remarkably at ease with someone he didn’t even know. Then again, he supposed the young man didn’t know quite a lot of his clients and it paid better not to be shy.

Harry gestured to the young man’s calves, “If you don’t mind...I’m sure you’ve been on your feet all day…” The young man shook his head, letting Harry slowly knead the muscles and flesh. His eyelids drooped slowly as he moaned softly, yes...he’d been on his feet a while. His calves practically melted under Harry’s hands.


Harry just huffed softly, smiling to himself. Merlin was jealous, clearly. “I actually came to get the man I’d hired before you out…”



“W-who are you?”

“My name’s Harry Hart--” “Harry!” “--and who might you be?”

“Oh, hello, you’re cute. I’m a super secret spy and here’s my name…” Merlin Mocked in his ear, irritated. “Oh, and by the way, did I mention that they might be listening in on this conversation because YOU’RE BEING WATCHED.”

“Eggsy.” He paused, as if considering it, “Er...well, it’s Gary Unwin…”


Harry’s heart jumped into his throat. “Unwin?” He breathed and looked at the young man again, more closely. Yes...yes...he looked just like Lee! “I...knew your father…”

Eggsy blinked, seemingly taken aback by this statement. “Wh-what?” He started at Harry, as if trying to place him. Harry didn’t blame him for not remembering, it had been so, so, so long ago. He’d been a child. He’d been a CHILD! How could little Eggsy Unwin have gone from Olympic hopeful to...this?

“How…?” Harry looked at Eggsy for explanation as to how the young man who had shown such promise had ended up in a sex club of all places.

Eggsy shifted and shook his head, “Stepdad had a debt. I fit the bill...and the rest that follow.” Eggsy was...a rentboy. A rentboy who was in service to a club because his stepdad was using him to pay off debts. Harry felt rage boiling in his chest.

“Harry, incoming…”

Harry scowled slowly, but before he could say anything on the matter. The door opened, this time several thuggish men strolled in. Harry didn’t need to know what had happened to guess why they were there. They’d been listening. They’d been waiting. Eggsy looked confused.

“Oi! You can’t come in--” Eggsy  hopped to his feet and tried to block the door, but he was slugged by a tall, thin, thug. Eggsy cried out sharply.

“Normally, this is where I advise you, Harry ‘Reckless’ Hart, to behave.” Harry’s fists curled slowly. “Go, get them.”

Harry didn’t need Merlin’s permission, but it was nice to know that the man was on his side. Especially when he saw the bloody lip that Eggsy was sporting. The door clicked shut as the kingpin thug stepped in and locked it. “Well, well, well…another posh tailor prat…”

Whatever he was saying was lost to Harry as he calculated his odds. Eggsy tried to get up and shove the on that slugged him, but he just received a foot to the back, pinning him to the ground. “You stay down, boy.”

The thug didn’t have a chance to say or do more, Harry Hart was on him. His fist cracked on the thug’s jaw, snapping his head to the side so hard that his neck cracked audibly. Unconscious or dead was yet to be decided, but he crumpled without a sound. Eggsy’s eyes were were the other thugs and the kingpin.

“Well?” Harry challenged with a near growl, “Are we going to stand around here all day or are we going to fight?”

Merlin sighed, “Can you get a new catchphrase, that will never stick…”

A thug swung wildly at Harry, the agent leaned back, redirecting the blow with a casual sweep of his umbrella so it rammed home in the nose of the kingpin! Blood gushed and the man cried out, lunging for Harry. Harry snagged the redirected arm and hauled the thug into the lunge, tangling up the thug and the kingpin and sending them toppling into the chair. The next came at Harry with a baton, but Harry snapped the handle of his umbrella into his gut. When the thug doubled over, Harry rammed his knee into the man’s face. Bones crunched and the baton wielding thug fell without a sound. The kingpin and the last fellow finally eradicated themselves from the chair, and each other. The kingpin drew a knife, trying to stab Harry deep in the back, but the long arcing swing from the umbrella broke his wrist! The back swing smashed into his face and he fell with a short cry. The final thug tried to run, but Harry tripped him, letting the man’s head bounce off the floor with a thud.

The fight was quick and over.

Eggsy stared up at Harry in stunned awe.

“Police are about to bust in.”

Harry offered Eggsy a hand up, removing his coat and slipping over the young man’s shoulders, “Meet me at the tailor shop on Savile Row…” He whispered, pressing a quick kiss to the young man’s hand and slipping through the door of the room. Leaving Eggsy confused and staring after him.

“Savile...Row…” He mumbled as he glanced to the downed thugs, hearing the muted voices of the police shouting. “Yeah...alright.” He smiled softly as he readjusted the coat around himself, now thinking of the man Harry Hart.