It had been raining again, John realised as he walked down the cobbled road, towards a small pub, tucked away and hidden within the streets of London.

A newspaper was blowing from where it had been dropped, and was drifting along the currents of wind.

12th May 1886

He walked swiftly and with purpose, his body trembling from more than the cold. He gripped his umbrella tighter, not daring to put it up in the current winds. His feet splashed through puddles and he was sure he would need new shoes soon. Maybe a warmer suit, too. The wind blew right through him in his current attire.

He had arrived.

Derse was a barely lit, small establishment, overlooked by almost all who pass it. The door was solid, a small slit slid open with his approach.

"Password?"

"Prospits moon"

And he was allowed inside.

The bar stocked all sorts of alcohol, both bar classics and illegal brews, and the smell of sex and smoke clouded his senses. The bar was exclusively men only, and the back rooms of the bar were hidden by a curtain.

He scanned the place. A few turned to look at him, sending mischievous smiles his way. He ordered a drink without returning them. He wasn't too fond of these places. They attracted too many unsavoury, working class customers. But there was a thrill in breaking rules.

His eyes widened when he saw a blonde in attire similar to his own, he recognised him from mere days ago.

His name was Dave Strider. A wealthy Texan who recently moved to live in his holiday home in England after the death of his brother, and was now running whatever business his brother had created, a rail company, if memory served, though rumours were going around that his affairs weren't entirely legal, and this seemed to prove it, but considering John himself was also inside the establishment, he had to forgive and be cautious, should Mr. Strider share that with others.

The blonde was staring at his drink, stirring it in deep thought, glancing around now and again.

His eyes rested on John, and a thick blonde eyebrow raised.

He gestured for John to join him, and so the whiskey in his hand was lifted to his mouth and promptly finished, before he joined the Texan.

"Never would'a expected someone like you here, John. May I call you John?" a nod.

"And I you, Mr Strider. What brings you to such a…unsavoury establishment? I haven't seen you here before." Was Mr. Strider even aware what kind of place he was in? He must've been, because he got the password.

"A regular are you? You rouge, John. As for me, since I'm new to the country I'm not surprised you haven't seen me here before. And as for my reason, 'm probably after the same thing as you."

His accent was thick, and seemed to grow thicker with every drink he took. John called over another whiskey.

"I only come here every so often, thank you very much Mr. Strider," John's whiskey had arrived, given to him by the bartender himself, a man of similar build to John himself, with vibrant green eyes.

"Dave."

"Excuse me?" A sip of whiskey, his throat was burning, but he was used to it by now.

"Dave. Call me Dave." John acknowledged this request as he set down his whiskey.

"Alright, Dave."

Both of the two men were businessmen, and the atmosphere reflected as such. Two well known, wealthy men, discovering each other in an illegal establishment, talking business. The pair are locked in a stare-off. Even their drinks are left untouched, as they attempt to find reasons and secrets in the other's eyes.

Dave's eyes were distracting, vibrant and brilliant and red. People had spread many rumours about the Strider's eyes. Him and his brother both. That they were demons or sons of witches. That they used their eyes as a scare tactic.

John wasn't sure about the demon thing. He was a man of science, after all.

His wife Vriska had expressed her distaste at the young Striders eyes, but John found them captivating and frustratingly enchanting.

They were disturbed by two men stumbling from behind the curtain, shirtless and utterly delirious. The taller of the two told the man nearest them that "room 2 was free" and they stumbled to a nearby table to put their shirts on, struggling due to their obvious drunkenness.

The two watched them discreetly. In deep thought.

"Has anyone been interested yet, Dave?" John asked suddenly, aware of the others gaze upon him.

"No, though honestly I'm not surprised. I think some of the people here either think I don't belong in this bar, or that I don't belong in this world. It's rather disconcerting."

A small hmmm and a nod.

"I obviously just got here, but I saw a few look my way. But personally I wasn't too interested."

Dave makes a sound of approval. "Well done, but a strapping young gentleman like you must be a major catch in a place like this." Was that…flirtation John heard in Dave's voice?

"Are you soliciting me for homosexual acts, Mr Strider? How Scandalous." Dave laughed softly and smiled at him.

"I might be, but I appreciate that as a man of class you might like me to at least buy you a drink first, or even get to know you. So do take your time, I have all night." John considered his options carefully. Dave was an attractive man, yes. And if they did partner up, then their shared secret would be even less likely to be used as any form of blackmail. They might even partner up again. He had to think quickly however, because unlike Dave, he didn't have all night. His wife was sound asleep at home, and if she were to discover he was gone who knows what could happen.

"I think I'll take you up on that offer, I'll take a brandy."

Dave's lips, John soon discovers, are pure heaven. Soft and skilful, not to mention utterly sinful.

Dave seemed to be the very embodiment of sin.

John loved every second of it.

After a few drinks and flirtatious conversation, they had taken that recently emptied booth 2. And suddenly Dave Strider was an unstoppable force, an oncoming storm that was going to absolutely wreck John. And John revelled in his own destruction. Praised it and begged for more, which Dave gladly gave.

Those soft lips were everywhere John could possibly want them to be, and they felt better than he could possibly imagine, and for a man of science, John called out to god far too often. But that night god had been replaced.

Replaced with red eyes and blonde hair, with soft lips and skills that shouldn't even be possible in the bedroom, and that night he was worshipped thoroughly as John's saviour.

Dave's back was clawed red by John's blunt nails, and his name had left John's lips so many times, and yet the sound was still addictive.

The moments were eternal, and the bliss was everlasting.

"Dear lord! Dave, please!"

He was given exactly what he asked for mere moments later.

As predicted that unstoppable force had wrecked John. Ruined him, taken every ounce of energy he had that night. And said man was smiling in utter bliss. Lost on the aftermath of euphoria.

With both men spent and lying next to each other, the moments afterwards were supposed to be tender. Full of soft embraces and sweet kisses.

But a knock on their door told them to hurry and get changed, as it was one in the morning and another couple wanted inside the booth.

Both scrambled for their clothes and, with barely any time spent cleaning up, they left, leaving none of their belongings inside the room (John had left his umbrella at the table, and Dave didn't seem to have any in the first place). They were walking shakily, and John feared that he wouldn't be walking at all the next day.

"Thank you, for…that. Yes. I will see you next time we may have business, then?" John's muscles protested, far too weak to take him home. But he had to walk. As he did every time he visited Derse.

"No, thank you. I'll see you then, yes. But, uh, John?" John was about to leave before turning around.

"Yes?" his heart was still hammering inside his chest, and he wasn't sure if it would ever calm down.

"Well, May I offer you something?" confusion. Offer him what?

"Do go on." Curiosity.

"Well, some men who…frequent here are known to pair up with someone, instead of wasting time finding a partner, or spending money to buy one for the night. I've heard, anyway. And, well honestly tonight was fuckin' great, so how about we do that?" John had raised an eyebrow at Dave's language, but he recalled that during recent activities Dave swore often, so he shouldn't be too surprised.

He should probably turn him down, he felt bad enough doing that with people he barely knew, never mind someone he was drawn too and familiar with as he already was with Dave, he was a married man too, and having a partner seemed to make his adultery seem all the more shocking, but he thought on what had happened mere minutes before and couldn't bring himself to refuse.

"Alright. I agree. Glad to know you enjoyed it as much as I did." With his cheeks and ears burning a fiery red (though one not nearly as intense as the blazing fire in Dave's eyes) he bid Dave goodnight, and set on his wobbly way, to 413 Picket Lane, Where his wife would still be sleeping, and his heart would still be racing.

A/n: Ahoyhoy! a new fic from me even though there are like three I need to update. Hehe, sorry about that. This idea's been buzzing at the back of my head for like three months though.