Smith pushes himself up off his knees, the cold making his joints ache in the slightest hint of age, and wipes his mouth with the hand that isn’t holding crumpled banknotes. He rubs the soreness from his legs from kneeling for so long. The stable master of the house disappears further down the alleyway, ducking around the corner and out of sight. Smith stumbles back inside the manor house on chilled feet, and in the dim candlelight, he almost misses the figure waiting for him.
At finding one of his servants outside after-hours, Lord Trott grabs Smith’s forearm, tugging him out into the hallway and inside the routinely stocked pantries of the Trott Estate House. “Smith, where have you been?”
CW: unprotected sex, Trott calls Smith a slag once?, mention of lords being physically rough with servants, dubious because position of power/authority, sex work, blow jobs
if I need to tag something else, let me know.