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“What in the world?”
Kevin gives Connor a look and it is not hard to interpret what he wants to convey with it; it is a look entirely devoid of humor while he shifts on the bed. There is a tiny sound of metal grinding against metal as the chain of the handcuffs is pulled taut against the headboard; Kevin makes another face and slumps back into the pillows again. “Well, how was your stag party?”
“Calm.” Connor automatically puts the keys to the front door on the dresser and lets his bag slide from his shoulder and fall onto the floor, unable to stop staring. “Is that–are you shaved?”
“Mine wasn’t.” Kevin slides his legs up to try and give himself some sort of illusion of privacy. “Calm, I mean.”
“Did Arnold do that?” Connor asks, half-hysterically waving a hand towards Kevin’s very smooth private parts. He knows that Kevin and Arnold are freakishly close, of course, but there is a limit to what they can do together before Connor feels an urge to challenge Arnold to a duel, both for his own and Kevin’s honor, and that limit may have been crossed tonight.
“No, a prostitute did.” Kevin must notice the rage that is starting to build in Connor, and he hurries to continue, grimacing for good measure. “A female prostitute. It was very uncomfortable.”
Some of the anger seeps out of him, if only because of Kevin’s obvious display of disgust. “I bet. But–why?”
“Ask Arnold.” Kevin shifts again, and when Connor walks closer he can see the embarrassed flush on his cheeks even through the semi-darkness. Someone has left a red lamp in the window, a lamp which certainly doesn’t belong to them, and it gives the entire room an almost brothel-like feeling. “I think he read up on what usually goes on at stag parties.”
“There is nothing usual about this,” Connor protests, an indescribable emotion beginning to bubble up in his chest; it can be anger just as much as it can be laughter. “How long have you been here?”
“Alone? I don’t know… twenty minutes?” Kevin tugs at the handcuffs that are chaining him to the bed. “Care to let me go now? The keys are over there.”
Connor tries to keep the smile from spreading on his face; now he understands why Poptarts had suddenly decided to end the evening, much earlier than Connor would have expected. This must have been a joint effort from Arnold and Poptarts. Poor Kevin.
He sits down on the side of the bed, tracing his fingers over Kevin’s thigh. That woman, whoever she was, had been very thorough: even Kevin’s legs and armpits, even his chest had been completely shaved or waxed. And Connor does love Kevin’s happy trail, but he is beginning to see that there is some merit in this as well. “You’ve just had some prostitute have their way with you. It’s only fair that your fiancé gets a chance to play, too.”
“She only shaved me,” Kevin protests, his voice getting higher, tugging at the handcuffs with what seems to be more force than before. “Come on.”
“Hush.” Connor lets his fingers move all the way to between Kevin’s legs, enjoying the way Kevin gasps and his body twitches at the touch. And he thinks, maybe he doesn’t have to challenge Arnold to a duel after all.
Maybe a simple thank you will do.