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A fortnight before the new courting season begins, preparations are already underway at the esteemed Gojo estate.
“I want everything to be perfect,” the Gojo matriarch says as she walks down the line of bowed heads to make sure her words are heard loud and clear. “No mistakes or imperfections to be had. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Duchess,” the servants say in unison.
The Duchess is a middle aged woman in her prime as far as intellect and cunning go. She was once the third daughter of a minor lord but now she is the Lady of Wildridge, a vast and splendid manse in the English countryside with acres upon acres of verdant lands.
Nearly a decade ago, her beloved husband passed, leaving her and their one and only son behind. Despite the tragedy, both mother and son have been able to survive just fine due to their family’s impressive wealth and endless connections.
Of course, most notable is their direct relation to Her Majesty the Queen. Due to the ill state of the Prince, it is the Duke, Gojo Satoru, who may sit upon the throne next. That is mere speculation, however, and it is not to be repeated in public.
“Geto,” the Duchess says, turning around to face the Head Butler, “go and wake the Duke. He must fix that poor sleep habit of his.”
“Yes, your grace,” Suguru says, keeping his head down to refrain from making eye contact.
Only when she turns her back to him and continues addressing the other servants, does he straighten up and walk away to carry out her task.
Suguru makes his way up the winding staircase, mindful to keep his hands off the gold railing so as not to leave any fingerprints. He spent hours polishing it just last night. Regardless of if he ruins his hard work or not once the Lord of the Manor awakes, he surely will.
Pinching his brows together, Suguru halts his steps as he stands outside of Lord Gojo’s door. The young lord is rather prickly in the mornings. He has to prepare himself and school his features.
A simple knock announces his arrival. He keeps the door ajar and walks over to the large, arched windows to pull back the drapes and let the light in.
“Bloody hell,” Lord Gojo grumbles. He’s shirtless and laying face down with his face smushed in the pillow. “Do you people ever knock?”
The “you people” makes the vein in Suguru’s head throb, but he holds his tongue. Like always.
“I did knock, your grace,” Suguru says, keeping his voice neutral. He walks over to the wardrobe, opening it to retrieve clean trousers and a blouse. “The Duchess has sent me to wake you.”
Lord Gojo rolls over to his back and covers his face with his arm. “Draw me a bath. Add rose oil and essence of hibiscus to it.”
“As you wish, your grace.”
In the adjoining washroom, Suguru prepares the Duke’s bath to his liking, taking note of the water’s temperature and adding a tonic to make the waters artificially blue. He’s kneeling beside the claw-foot tub adding the rose oil when Lord Gojo enters the washroom.
“Bathe me,” he says.
Suguru clenches his jaw. “My apologies, your grace, but the Duchess requires my assistance with the preparations.”
“And I require your assistance with preparing me for the day.” He walks around the tub, standing on the opposite side, fully nude. “Do as I say.“
Purposefully avoiding his manhood, Suguru bows his head obediently. He has never washed the Duke before though there are maids who have done so; willingly and happily.
Lord Gojo is a very handsome man, objectively speaking, and his body is chiseled and in top shape. He is truly a prime alpha; an elite. But to Suguru he is nothing more than that scrawny little pup who hated to eat his vegetables.
Suguru has worked for the family since he was a pup; he and the Duke are only a year apart. His mother worked here as well and even gave birth to him at Wildridge. She died a few years ago from Tuberculosis.
The Duchess was gracious enough to give Suguru shelter, clothing, and food. In return, he serves the family.
“Do you ever smile?” Lord Gojo asks. He’s staring at Suguru’s side profile. “You’re younger than me yet you look years older.”
“Should the idea of bathing you bring me joy, your grace?” he asks as he washes the alpha’s broad shoulders.
Lord Gojo chuckles. “There are plenty who would die for the chance.” He frowns. “Yet you treat it like a punishment. Why is that?”
Because Suguru knows he was only asked to do this as a form of humiliation. Lord Gojo has a knack for belittling him at every turn and making his life miserable any chance that he gets.
Of course, Suguru can’t say that.
“My apologies, your grace. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Like what?”
“The new courting season is around the corner,” he says, thinking quickly. “You are expected to take a wife.”
“That upsets you?” Lord Gojo asks, and for a moment he looks hopeful. But the brightness in his eyes dims too fast to tell if it were truly there or not.
“It worries me. A new Lady of the Manor will be named. We pray she will be as kind as the Duchess, your mother, has been.”
Lord Gojo considers him for a moment. Like his mother, his hair is pure white with touches of silver in the strands. While his blue eyes are unique and mesmerizing.
His beauty is without question, and for all of his faults he is an intelligent and forward-thinking man.
If only he wasn’t a thorn in Suguru’s side.
“I will still be the Lord of this estate,” Lord Gojo says dismissively. “Worry not. Now wash my back.”
Suguru does as he’s told. After the bath, he helps the Duke dress.
All of his actions are carried out mechanically as they are known to him by heart and soul. He could dress the Duke and the Duchess while blindfolded and not even a single hair would be out of place.
His experience and his talent are why he holds the title of Head Butler despite being the youngest of the servants, and an omega to boot. Omegas are typically maids and they never hold seats of power. Well, that is how it is for serfs; those of a low social status.
For Suguru, this life is pleasant as it is all he knows.
“There you are, Satoru,” the Duchess says, kissing the Duke on either cheek. “You’ve nearly missed breakfast.”
Suguru pulls back the chair that is at the head of the long table. Gojo sits down and raises his arms so that Suguru can place a cloth napkin on his lap.
“Morning, Mother,” Lord Gojo says.
Since there are other servants present, Suguru quietly leaves the dining hall to make his way over to the kitchen. There will be a party held at Wildridge to commemorate the beginning of the courting season. He has to ensure their inventory is well stocked among other things.
Everything must be perfect.
Using a riding crop, Satoru flicks a grasshopper off of his pants leg. He watches as it hops away, disappearing into the tall grass.
The lands out here have long been unattended to for far too long so he makes a mental note to hire a landscaper. He must also remind himself to pay the carpenters for reupholstering the roof and walls of his office and hire a new gardener since the old one is getting up there in age. Also, he needs to—
“You’re no longer working, your grace,” his best friend says, pulling him out of his buzzing thoughts. “We are to have fun, remember?”
Satoru smiles half-heartedly at Ryomen Sukuna, a wealthy merchant’s son who single handedly dominates the silk trade. “Ah, yes, fun,” he says, looking around the thin forest. “What is fun about this again?”
Picking up his rifle, Sukuna slings it on his back. “Hunting is the epitome of fun.”
“Yes, when there is actual game to hunt. There isn’t much in this area.” Because he’s already cleared them out. “Why did you really bring me out here? Is this an assassination attempt?” He jests.
Sighing, Sukuna drops the act. “It is about the upcoming season,” he says. “I think my younger cousin would make a fine wife for you.”
“Your mother, you mean. Your mother thinks your younger cousin would make a fine wife for me.”
“Yes, obviously. You know I do not care for things like that.”
Satoru chuckles. “Your mother sent you to butter me up. My own best friend.”
“She is a determined woman, I must say.”
“I will choose a wife who I think suits me best.”
For an alpha of his status, his wife must be a proper omega with exceptional breeding, superb etiquette, and a healthy womb. She must be mindful of her place as an omega and she must obey him in all things.
That is what is expected of her, and that is what he must seek despite it not being what he truly desires.
“I must warn you,” Sukuna says, “Lord Nanami has been put up to the same task by his mother. Be expecting that.”
Satoru expects this sort of thing every courting season. Even before he turned eighteen a year ago, mothers and aunts and brothers and nephews have been shoving potential brides in his face. They know that their families will do well being married into the Gojo family, making him the most eligible bachelor in all of England.
It is a heavy cross to bear indeed.
“Any more friendly warnings you’d care to share?” Satoru asks since they’re here.
“We will have quite the competition this season. The Zenin family’s heir is seeking a bride to mother his son and a young lord from new money will make his debut.”
Those men are competition for others but not for Gojo Satoru, the Duke of Wildridge.
After they leave the woods and go their separate ways, Satoru rides his horse back to the estate. The party will take place tomorrow night. He must ensure all of his business matters are taken care of before then.
As he’s dismounting and leaving his horse in the care of the stable boy, he sees the Head Butler from across the courtyard. He’s as stone-faced as ever. Unlike the other omegan servants, Geto wears unflattering black dress slacks and a white blouse that is a size too big.
The thin, black ribbon he wears around the collar is neat as usual, and his black hair is pulled up into a tight bun that Satoru loathes. He has never seen Geto with his hair down, not even when they were children.
There was a time when Satoru foolishly thought the two of them could be friends but Geto is a cold, heartless bitch with a stick up his arse.
Nostrils flaring, Satoru turns on his heel and heads into the mansion. He will not waste his precious time on the likes of Geto Suguru.
In his office, he sits at the desk that once belonged to his father and he buries himself in his work. He had to take over at a young age, and because of that he missed out on a great deal of his childhood.
Years have passed yet the burden of duty has yet to lessen. He imagines it never will. His mother thinks he simply needs a good wife to fill his life with love and happiness in order to keep him from further misery.
Satoru thinks that is a pleasant idea but he doesn’t see that happening for him. He will find a wife who meets the requirements and nothing more.
What he needs in the meantime is a fresh cup of tea and some sweets preferably macaroons. He’s been craving them a lot lately…
There is a single knock at the door.
“Come in.”
“I brought tea, your grace,” Geto says as he wheels in a cart. He removes the silver lid. “I baked these macaroons this morning. I thought you would like some with your tea.”
It is as if Geto can read his mind. He knows him so well. Times like this, Satoru recalls how fond he was of Geto when they were pups. They could have been dear friends; he’s always wanted a friend who lived here with him.
When he looks up at Geto and sees the blank expression on his face, he scowls. How could he forget how much Geto despises him? The contempt is clear in his eyes and it’s evident in how cold he is toward him.
“Leave it and get out,” he says coldly. “Do not disturb me for the remainder of the evening.”
Geto leaves without a word.
Satoru doesn’t want to touch the snacks that were bought for him but Geto prepares the best tea and it is rare for him to bake anything and when he does it’s always exceptional.
Frowning, Satoru picks up a raspberry macaroon and eats it. He nearly moans from how delicious it is but he holds himself back out of spite.
“Happy Birthday!”
Suguru smiles as he steps into the common area where the other servants have gathered with small gifts to help him celebrate today. They only have twenty minutes before they must return to their tasks of cleaning and cooking in preparation for tomorrow.
“What does it feel like to be of age?” one of the older ladies asks him. She gives him a worn book that is filled with fairy tales. “I remember when you were fresh out of your first heat. Now look at you.”
The memory makes Suguru blush. He was thirteen when he had his first heat. To prevent any incidents, he was kept locked in the cellar out of sight. This woman was the one who kept him fed and hydrated.
“I feel the same,” Suguru says, looking around the room at the others. “Today is like any other day to me.” His words are met by collective disagreement.
Everyone claims that today is special and it should be celebrated. He wishes he shared their sentiments. Nonetheless, he accepts his other gifts gratefully and thanks everyone. Most of the gifts are handmade trinkets, books, and warm bread from the kitchen; things that seem insignificant to the wealthy but for them they are treasure.
“The Duchess allowed you time to bake this morning?” another servant asks him. “That was kind of her.”
Suguru smiles. “I baked macaroons this year.” He bakes them every birthday. “I have enough to give each of you one.” He loves baking but rarely gets the chance to with how busy he is. “I will hand them out later.”
They all thank him. Soon, their tasks must resume.
While he’s showing two younger girls how to polish the porcelain properly, the Duchess summons him to her chamber.
“Your grace?” he asks as he enters with his head bowed.
“Oh, Suguru, it is only us here,” she says.
Suguru raises his head and looks at her. She’s smiling warmly at him so he returns her smile. He walks over to where she is seated at her vanity.
“Happy Birthday, dear,” the Duchess says. “You favor your mother more and more each day.” Her eyes are sad when she says this. She was very fond of his mother. “I promised her that when you turned eighteen I would give this to you.”
The Duchess hands him a letter and a small box. From the handwriting on the letter, he knows it’s from his mother. Eyes watering, he looks at the Duchess for an explanation but she only tells him that she will give him privacy.
“Please stay,” Suguru says.
She stays with him and holds his hand while he reads the letter. Judging by the date, this was written shortly before his mother died. She wishes him a happy birthday and apologizes for not being here. Then she reveals the identity of his true father.
“My birth father is a noble,” Suguru says in disbelief. “How…impossible…”
“That man,” the Duchess says, clearly with distaste, “begged the former Duke and I to hide your mother here to keep it from his wife. Your mother made him promise to leave you enough money to serve as your dowry if and when you wish to be courted.”
Suguru wipes tears from his eyes as he folds the letter. He cares not for his father. His sadness and his happiness are all for his mother.
“Will I be allowed to court?” he asks. “But I am a serf—”
“Your status matters not. You will have our backing and our support. Your mother did not want you to spend all of your years like this, Suguru.”
“No one will want to court me,” he says sadly. “Dowry or not, I am a bastard who has spent over a decade serving.”
The Duchess looks remorseful. “Per the rules of society, an alpha of high status will have to seek you out. If one shows true interest, I will give my blessing.”
Suguru thanks her for everything. He highly doubts an alpha of high status will look his way at all, but he appreciates his mother for giving him the opportunity to live a different life. He supposes that will be enough for him.
“Thank you, your grace. I will return to my duties now.”
“Actually, you will be presented at the party tomorrow night. Discreetly, of course. But you must look the part, my dear.”
Suguru watches as the Duchess walks over to the open wardrobe. It is now that he notices the dress that is hanging up. He hates how excited he is to put it on and have the eyes of wealthy and esteemed men on him. No one will want to sully their prestigious family line with the likes of him. What is the point in any of this?
“If you have a chance at love and happiness, you must seize it, Suguru.”
Suguru doubts he will ever experience such a thing as love. But happiness and a well off life will do him just fine.
Nobles from all over come by the hundreds in horse-drawn carriages, dressed in the latest fashions.
Wildridge is alive with the sound of music and exciting chattering as servants carrying trays of finger foods and champagne move through the crowd quietly and efficiently. The orchestra is playing out in the courtyard while contortionists are putting on a show in the ballroom. Food and drink are abundant and there are fun activities for everyone to engage in.
If nothing else, the Gojo family knows how to throw one hell of a party. Satoru is wearing a tuxedo with a royal blue slash over it to signify his royal standing. His military medals adorn the fabric, reminding all of his bravery and valor.
Already, the grandmothers, mothers, and aunts are shoving their prospects down his throat. Some of them are beautiful, and two are male omegas which is a rare sight as well as a treat but none catch his eye. There are a handful he’d like to fuck but nothing more. It is the same as last year, he thinks.
Satoru sees Sukuna and Nanami across the courtyard so he makes his way over to them. As he’s heading their way, airy laughter halts him in his steps.
The Zenin heir, Toji, is talking to someone who has their back to Satoru. Toji is a brawny alpha whose tall height is only matched by Satoru. He looks out of place in a tuxedo with his massive form and scarred mouth but he has a place here in their society regardless.
In order to maintain his role and wealth, Toji must
marry a suitable omega this season.
The omega he is speaking with seems charmed by him with the way they’re laughing at every joke. Satoru feels drawn to their laughter in a way he can’t explain.
“I do hope you will consider my offer,” Toji says as he takes the omega by the hand and kisses it. Then he walks away.
The omega stares at their hand as though they are in a trance. Careful not to frighten them, Satoru walks closer so that he can see their face better. Before he can get close enough the omega walks off, the skirts of their periwinkle gown sliding on the grass.
Satoru’s feet move before his brain can deliver the command. He follows the omega across the courtyard, disregarding the many people who try to stop him for a chat. The omega steps into the high hedge maze, and fearing he will lose them, Satoru enters as well.
Hiding behind one of the hedge walls, he peeks around it. The omega is clutching their chest and smiling up at the sky, leaving Satoru utterly speechless.
The omega, who he recognizes as male now, is wearing a lovely gown that hangs off of their shoulders with a tight corset that draws attention to their delicate waist and hips. The bodice is covered in lace and sparkling flowers that glint beneath the moonlight.
In the omega's dark hair that is half up with the rest flowing down his back is a single flower that matches the ones on the bodice.
“Beautiful,” Satoru breathes. He enjoys the omega’s smile most of all.
Clearing his throat, he moves to step out and reveal himself to the omega but then he hears someone else enter the maze from another side.
“Hello,” a young alpha with pink hair says. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, my lady.”
When the omega lowers his head to look at the alpha, Satoru’s eyes widen in disbelief.
“I am Itadori Yuuji, heir to the Wineseller estate,” the alpha says with a bow of his head. “May I ask your name?”
The omega smiles, and at the sight of it, Satoru’s heart burns with emotions he can’t decipher. “My name is Geto Suguru,” he says, bowing.
Satoru stares at Geto’s face a second longer before storming off and leaving the hedge maze. He searches for his mother, finding her in the parlor telling jokes to some of their guests. When people see him, they stand to greet him but he ignores them entirely.
“Mother, I need to speak with you,” he says.
The Duchess can tell by his tone that it’s urgent. She excuses herself and they step into the library where it’s empty.
“One of the servants is parading around like a lady!” Satoru says hotly. “We must reprimand them immediately!”
“You mean, Suguru?” She sighs. “He is not parading around like a lady. He is a lady this season and will be courted. My apologies for not informing you sooner.”
“You knew?” Satoru asks.
His mother knew that Geto could smile like that and look beautiful with his hair down and that his curves deserve to be shown instead of hidden underneath unflattering clothes?
“It was his mother’s dying wish. Do not interfere. You have your own courtship to consider. Now tell me, has anyone caught your eye tonight?”
Only one person. And they just so happen to be the last person he ever expected.
Suguru is floating on a blissful cloud as he walks to his room. The back of his hand still tingles from when his suitors kissed it.
Surprisingly, two eligible bachelors showed interest in him while knowing full well of his true social status.
He was charmed by both but in very different ways.
Zenin Toji is an older man who was married before. He has a young son who is no more than three years of age. The way Lord Zenin looked at Suguru and discreetly touched the small of his back made Suguru’s skin burn. He often felt as though he was being undressed by those emerald eyes, not in a way that made him uncomfortable. It was just new.
Then there is Itadori Yuuji who is the heir to an impressive winery. He told Suguru stories of his villa in Italy and about his love for animals. His aura was very bright, youthful, and full of energy. His attraction toward Suguru was apparent but his longing gazes were not as smoldering as Lord Zenin’s were.
“I have never seen you this happy.”
At the sound of the familiar voice, Suguru’s smile fades. He looks up and sees Lord Gojo standing in the corridor still dressed in his tuxedo.
“Do you require something from me, your grace?” he asks, remembering that his fairytale night is over.
Lord Gojo stares at him; at his face, in a way that makes Suguru overly self-conscious. He knows full well that the Duke finds him unattractive. But must he remind him of that at every turn?
“You’re not retiring to the servant’s quarters?”
Suguru shakes his head. “Your mother…I mean, the Duchess thought it best for me to stay in one of the rooms so that I may prepare for my dates.”
“As if anyone will take you out on a date,” Lord Gojo scoffs.
Suguru balls his fists at his sides. “Two suitors have already asked to call upon me tomorrow.” He raises his chin smugly when he sees the look of surprise on the Duke’s face. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must rest.”
Lord Gojo recovers quickly. “Yes, you do that. I will need you well rested in order to iron all of my clothes in the morning.”
“But—”
“Surely your dates are not as important as your duties.”
Eyes burning, Suguru blinks hard to keep tears from accumulating. “Yes, of course, your grace.” He wants to punch him in the face. “May I retire for the night?”
“You may.”
Suguru wastes no time entering his room and closing the door behind him. As upset as he is, he doesn’t allow it to ruin his night. The Duke has always been cruel to him. It is nothing to cry over; not anymore.
After a bath and a change of clothes, he lays in bed thinking about his dates tomorrow.
Despite all of his thoughts about his two suitors, it’s the wretched Duke who haunts his dreams that night.
In the morning, Satoru wakes with a smile on his face and a boner in his trousers. Both are thanks to the dream he had about a certain dark haired beauty. The more his drowsiness abandons him, the more aware he becomes, however.
“Oh shit,” Satoru mutters as the lingering memories of his dream play on inside his mind.
Why on earth was he dreaming about Geto? Disgusted, he sits up and gropes his erection to make it go away but that touch only ignites the flames further. With a frustrated groan, he quickly rubs one out and tries his damndest not to think about Geto. He still comes to mind as he releases but he will ignore that.
Before a servant can come and see him in this state, he goes to wash up. He is looking forward to overlooking Geto’s task of ironing all of his clothes.
He does not mean every piece of clothing in his wardrobe. Only the things he intends to wear for this week. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if Geto thought otherwise and he ended up ironing everything? Satoru laughs at the thought.
Anything to keep Suguru from going on his dates will do just fine.
“I have brought you breakfast, your grace,” a serving girl says as she enters his chamber with a cart.
Satoru is in the middle of putting on a blouse. “Tell Geto that he is late,” he says without looking at her. “I want my clothes ironed before nightfall.”
“Forgive me, your grace, but Geto has already tended to that task. Your clothes are here.”
Frowning, Satoru whips his head around to see the servant pointing at the wardrobe that is filled with freshly pressed clothes, all lined up neatly.
How did Geto accomplish this so promptly? Is he a witch?!
“Where is he?” Satoru asks through gritted teeth.
The serving girl gulps. “On the lake with his suitors.”
Satoru hurriedly gets dressed. “Have Oliver fetch and dress my horse this instance!”
A hurried “yes, your grace, is muttered as the girl runs off to do as she’s told. His horse is waiting for him by the time he’s readied himself. He mounts it and rides hard and fast out to their lake.
From a distance, he can see Suguru with two alphas flanking him. One is holding a lace parasol over his head to protect him from the sun. Gritting his teeth, he hurries his horse. The trio can hear the galloping hooves and they look up as he approaches.
Once again, Geto’s smile disappears at the sight of him, and Satoru has to ignore the pang in his chest. He dismounts and puts on his best smile.
“Looks like I arrived in time,” he says, walking up to them. “Lady Geto is out here without a chaperone. That won’t do.”
Geto glares at him. His eyes are a peculiar shade of purple that often looks black in poor lighting. But today they are vibrant beneath the sun’s rays.
“We didn't know that was necessary,” Zenin Toji says. He looks like a common thug in a rich man’s tuxedo. “Will you be the chaperone, your grace?”
The younger alpha, Itadori Yuuji frowns in confusion. “I thought chaperones had to be older omegas or female betas.”
“Our lady is a rare case,” Satoru says with a shrug. “Therefore a rare exception must be made.” He can see the boat is docked behind them. “Shall we then?”
“Four people may be excessive, your grace,” Geto says quietly. “The boat cannot hold that much weight.”
“Then one of your suitors will have to wait their turn,” Satoru says, thinking that’s reasonable enough.
Geto is clearly upset but he remembers his place. He lowers his head. Itadori notices this.
“I will wait my turn gladly!” he says with a bright smile. “You three go ahead.”
Toji smirks as he bows. “I thank you, lad,” he says, linking his arms with Geto’s.
Already Satoru has the suitors figured out. They are the two Sukuna warned him about. At the time, Satoru saw them as no threats but now he can see that he was wrong.
Toji is a sly fox who is not as honorable as he carries himself. No one can head the Zenin family with honor alone. Then there is Itadori who is pure of heart and full of integrity. He’s like an excited puppy and Toji is the old hound who has seen his fair share of the world.
What kind of man does Geto prefer? It’s what Satoru is thinking about during their boat ride on the lake. He and Toji are paddling while Geto enjoys the picturesque scenery. Satoru watches him smile up at the sky and wave to the ducks that are swimming serenely.
This is a softer side of Geto that he has never seen before. Why is Satoru unworthy of these gentle gazes and cute gestures?
Toji is whispering something to Geto while they rest their arms. Whatever he says makes Geto blush prettily and giggle behind his gloved hand.
“Are we sharing funny stories?” Satoru asks because he hates being left out; he hates that he isn’t the one making Geto laugh. “I have a dozen or so about Lady Geto as a pup. Care to hear?”
Geto looks like he wants to cry. “Lord Gojo, perhaps—”
“I’m listening,” Toji says. “I would love to know more about the lady, that’s all.”
Satoru smiles at Geto. “Your suitor is intrigued.” He claps his hands. “Well, when he was around eight or nine, Geto tried to nurse a dying bird back to health…”
His parents kept wondering where the chirping was coming from. They sent the servants around the mansion in search of the source until the bird was discovered in a box under Geto’s bed.
His mother pleaded for the Duke and Duchess to show him mercy and not to reprimand him too harshly.
“He didn't get punished at all,” Satoru says, remembering that day clearly. He tried his best to comfort Geto but his father kept him at a distance. “My mother even had the family physician care for the bird. When the poor thing inevitably died, Geto made a grave for it. It’s still standing.”
Geto looks as if he wants to disappear. He’s so embarrassed just as Satoru hoped. He smiles victoriously.
Toji chuckles. “That reminds me of my son. He’s a sweet and caring boy,” he says. “You two would get along, no doubt.”
Hearing that, Geto smiles at Toji and Satoru scowls.
They return to the bank.
Toji helps Geto out of the boat, and Satoru is left to tend to himself. Not that he needs any help but the way Geto and Toji walk over to where Itadori is without so much as looking back to ensure he is fine is duly noted. His presence is unwanted here.
Fabolous.
“Is it my turn now?” Itadori asks as he runs up to Geto, his brilliant smile rivaling the sun.
Geto returns his smile effortlessly. “I was hoping we could sit under the tree and share a snack together.” He flutters his eyelashes coquettishly. “If you don’t mind of course.”
Itadori removes his jacket and hurriedly lays it out under a great wisteria tree. “I don’t mind at all, my lady. Please sit here.”
With his help, Geto sits on top of the jacket. Both of his suitors sit on either side of him while Toji opens the picnic basket that Geto more than likely prepared himself. A blanket is rolled out and the food is placed on it. Satoru sits across from Geto, noticing how beautiful he looks in his dress.
The corset is covered in green paisleys while the skirt and sleeves are ivory. His hair is pulled up with two curled bangs framing his face.
Has he always been this comely? A voice in Satoru’s head says yes but the bitter part of him says no, never.
“I do adore the wisterias this time of year,” Geto says offhandedly as he stares at the hanging flowers. He seems to adore nature in every form.
Satoru finds himself smiling. He frowns when he realizes it.
Wordlessly, Itadori gets up and begins to climb the tree with gusto. “I hear the biggest flowers bloom at the top,” he says as he climbs with finesse.
“Be careful, my lord,” Geto says, clutching his chest.
“The boy is quite the climber,” Toji says, placing his hand on Geto’s thigh. “He will be alright.”
Satoru’s stares at Toji’s hand with an icy glare. “Mind your manners, suitor,” he says, venom lacing his words.
Geto audibly shivers from the intensity of it while Toji looks at him and smiles as if he just discovered an interesting secret. They both stare at one other; one glaring, one smirking, until Itadori leaps down from the tree with a marvelous, purple flower in his hand. He presents it to Geto who thanks him profusely
Satoru is still thinking of Toji’s touch and Itadori’s flower when he escorts Geto back to the mansion. He made him mount his horse and hug him from behind to ensure he didn’t fall off. It was his attempt at being kind but when he helps Geto dismount he can tell his kindness is not appreciated.
“Must I flay myself to make you happy?” Satoru asks with more anger in his voice than he intended.
“Do whatever you like, your grace. Surely, nothing has ever stopped you before.”
Before Geto can walk away on that note, Satoru grabs his arm and spins him around to face him again. The abrupt action has some of Geto’s hair spilling out of its bun. That and the way his chest heaves with anger makes him look freshly ravished.
Satoru’s nostrils flare. “Did your day out make you forget your place?” he asks.
“How could I ever forget my place with you always there to remind me, your grace?” He fires back.
It was never his intention to belittle Geto or be cruel to him yet here he is doing and saying things he doesn’t mean to do or say.
“Have you no self respect? Allowing that man to touch you and whisper obscenities in your ear!”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Geto asks. He looks mad enough to fight, and that makes Satoru want to goad him more. “Are you drunk? Perhaps you have had a drop of poppy essence? No sober man would behave this way!”
Satoru does feel drunk and he does feel high. Geto is casting another one of his spells on him, it would seem.
“What did Lord Zenin say to you?” Satoru asks because he needs to know; desperately. “Did he tell you of all the things he wishes to do with your body so that you can touch yourself and think of him tonight?”
Gods, he sounds mad. He sounds jealous. Perhaps he is.
Some of the heat leaves Geto’s gaze. Frowning, he looks at Satoru with uncertainty. “Touch myself?” he asks in bewilderment. “What do you mean?”
Satoru blinks owlishly. “You know, when you’re alone in bed or during your bath…”
“When I bathe? Everyone bathes themselves. Although sometimes you make me bathe you….”
His innocence is truly remarkable. Satoru is torn between teasing him or corrupting him. Like the serpent in the garden, he chooses the latter.
“I mean for pleasure, Lady Suguru,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. The familiar name is used intentionally. “When you are alone, during the waking hours, does your hand never find its way between your warm thighs?” He holds Geto’s gaze, neither of them blinking. “Do you ever sink your fingers into your peach and feel its ripe juices?”
Geto looks near tears. “No,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
Satoru leans in, and when he sees how Geto shudders and how his eyes fall shut, he smirks victoriously. “Then you should try it. The results will be rewarding.”
With that, he leaves Geto in the courtyard to ponder over his words. When he is in the corridor, close to his chamber, he hurries his steps and rushes into his room to take care of the hardness in his trousers.
This time, he openly thinks about Geto — no, Suguru, and how he will stop at nothing to have him.
No suitors will pay Suguru a visit today because the weather has decided against it. Rain and thunder descend on Wildridge early that morning, long before the sun can break through the clouds.
A loud clap of thunder jolts Suguru out of his sleep. He lays in bed for a moment, slowly collecting himself, and then he gets up. Putting a robe over his nightgown, he lights a lantern to illuminate the dark corridors of the mansion. Every storm, he makes this same trip under the cover of night or during the day when the skies are so grey they make the world dark.
Sitting the lantern on the floor, he opens the door to Lord Gojo’s chamber, peeking his head in. As expected the Duke is tossing and turning in bed while crying out for his father. The former Duke died during a storm, and ever since then Satoru has hated and feared them.
Suguru gets on the bed as he has done for countless nights, over the course of several years, and he pets the Duke’s hair to comfort him.
This is one of the rare times where Lord Gojo looks like the kind boy who wanted to be his friend. Suguru often wonders how different things would be had he defied everyone and befriended him anyway.
“Stay with me,” Satoru says quietly.
Gasping, Suguru snaps out of it and sees the blue, watery eyes staring right at him. He’s never been caught before. Quickly, he mutters an apology and moves to leave. He can be whipped for entering the Duke’s chamber in only his nightgown during this time.
“Suguru, please,” Satoru says, tugging on his arm.
They used to use each other’s given name in secret during their short-lived time as friends. It lasted less than a week yet when Satoru says his name like this feels like only yesterday.
“I’ll stay.”
He gets under the covers, taking note of how warm they are and how much they smell like Satoru. Why can’t it be this way between them always? His head is on Satoru’s chest and Satoru is crying silently while rubbing his back. At daybreak, they will go back to fighting and hating one another and he will mourn this temporary peace between them.
Except, Suguru has never hated Satoru. Even when he’s had every right to do so. He’s stupid like that, and too loyal for his own good.
Once, he even entertained the idea that he may love Satoru. When it occurred to him years ago, he panicked and shielded himself, presenting himself as cold and disinterested. He hopes that if he is whisked away from this place, he can maintain his secret and take it to his grave.
Eventually, Satoru falls asleep again. Suguru contemplates sneaking out but he has to admit that he’s very comfortable right where he is. The Duke is a strapping man with a solid chest and smooth skin that is pressed against Suguru’s cheek…
Realizing that Satoru is shirtless has his mind racing with the thoughts that were implanted in his head last night.
Thoughts about self pleasure, which apparently is a real thing, plague his mind. He thought only a husband could accomplish that for him. If people can do it for themselves then why bother with marriage?
Well, Suguru quite likes the idea of being bound to another. He wants to feel desired and loved. The hopeless romantic side of him came from his mother, no doubt.
If only Satoru could see him that way. It’s foolish to want a man such as him — one who has vexed him like no other — but the heart wants what the heart wants.
His only wish is that whichever man he marries will make him forget all about the Duke.
Satoru awakes to the scent of jasmine in his nostrils, a beauty in his arms, and a stubborn hardness in his trousers. Eyes still closed, he rubs that hardness against something soft and supple, enjoying the delicious friction. He does it again, this time pulling a whimper from his companion.
Absently, he can hear the rain hitting the windows. In his mind, he’s at his favorite Gentleman’s Club with the lady he bought for the night to keep him company.
Sometimes a Duke gets lonely, that’s all. But the mattress he’s on is far softer than those at the club and there is something unique about his companion.
They feel different in his arms; like a perfect fit.
Afraid that opening his eyes will dispel the fantasy too quickly, he keeps them closed. His hands roam freely, gliding over soft fabric, occasionally discovering dips and curves.
“Satoru,” his companion whimpers.
Opening his eyes, Satoru comes face to face with a sleeping Suguru who wears a peaceful expression on his face. His long hair is braided but it is partially undone and strands of loose hair frame his face. His robe and his nightgown are hanging off his pale shoulders that are slightly flushed.
Satoru wants to kiss him everywhere all at once.
“Good morning, your grace,” a servant says as she wheels in a cart.
Quickly, Satoru throws the covers over Suguru’s head to hide him. No one gossips like a servant does. If Suguru is seen in his bed it will get back to his suitors and they will rescind their interest in him. Of course, that is exactly what Satoru wants but he will not have Suguru’s reputation sullied in the process.
“Leave it there,” Satoru says to the servant. “I am not to be disturbed this morning.”
She bows and leaves.
Pulling the covers back, he sees Suguru who is awake and alert now. He’s lying perfectly still, eyes wide and mouth covered by both hands. He looks rather cute like this.
Satoru smiles. “If you want a proper demonstration, you need only ask, Lady Suguru.”
Suguru hits his shoulder lightly. “Get off of me,” he whispers.
“But I quite enjoy it up here.”
“Will you enjoy it when I knee you in your family jewels?”
“I doubt it.” Satoru rolls off of him but he has no intention of letting him go when he has him right where he wants him. “Care to explain how you ended up in my bed? Not that I’m complaining.”
Suguru glances away. “There was a thunderstorm,” he says. “I know you hate them.”
“What?” Satoru’s smile disappears in an instant.
“You hate them…ever since your father…”
Satoru’s heart feels as though it’s going to burst out of his chest. “So…you came here to comfort me?” He touches Suguru’s chin and turns his head to see the truth in his eyes. “Look at me.”
Suguru looks right at him, eyes full of uncertainty. “Yes, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Ever since the night he died…”
Satoru's heart aches and it soars with newfound hope. Is this real? Or is he still trapped in a sweet dream?
If Suguru hated him he wouldn't do that for him. If he hated him he would not know or care about the things that evoke terror inside him. Only love could bring about that sort of thoughtfulness.
“Will you punish me?” Suguru asks, blinking away tears.
Satoru wipes his tears. “Only if you leave me and marry someone else,” he says. “I will punish you both and curse your union because I am jealous and spiteful when it comes to you, do you understand me?”
Suguru’s mouth falls open. He gazes deeply into Satoru’s eyes as if he can’t believe what he hears. “So, I am to remain here with you as your prisoner then?” There is hope in his eyes despite the fear in his voice. “I know how much you hate me…”
Obviously, he still doubts Satoru’s words. That is Satoru’s own fault for how he’s treated him with disregard over the years. In his efforts to shield his own heart he unintentionally broke Suguru’s.
It is a sin he will never absolve himself of.
All of this time he has loved Suguru without fully understanding his own emotions. But he understands them now, and he will not make the same mistakes twice.
“Hate you? All this time I have…” Satoru swallows down the words. “It is you who hates me. Not that I am undeserving of that…”
Suguru shakes his head. “I have tried to no avail. You are like an incurable sickness. Always with me.”
“Then why have you never graced me with your pretty smiles and your melodic laughter? For years, I have secretly wished to have your attention solely on me…”
“Truly?” Suguru can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I never thought I was allowed to. Lord Gojo—”
Satoru stops him. “Drop all pretenses,” he says. “It is only you and I here.”
“…Satoru, we are from two different worlds. I wanted us to be more than Master and Servant but that is all we are.” He chews on his lip. “Your father reminded me of my place years ago.”
That is startling news to Satoru, and he’s quite taken aback. He asks for further explanation so Suguru tells him about how his father told him that he is never to get too close to Satoru so as not to distract him from his duties.
“My own beloved father is the reason why I was deprived of happiness,” Satoru says to himself, his eyes downcast.
“What happiness could you ever have with a serf, Satoru?”
“Not with a serf, but with Geto Suguru, the first person to make me laugh, smile, and hope. When you initially came here, I saw my future in your eyes…”
Tears stain Suguru’s cheeks and he allows them to fall. “I never knew I was that important to you,” he says, his voice cracking. “Why did you treat me so terribly?”
“Out of spite because I was sure you hated me.”
“Hated you?” Suguru asks with a frown. “Every birthday of mine for the past six years I have baked macaroons to share with you like we did that one time…I doubt you even remember…”
Satoru gasps. “Of course, I remember. It was shortly after we were introduced. I gave you macaroons for your birthday because you never had them…”
He recalls the tea and macaroons Suguru gave him just the other day and he silently curses himself for not realizing the significance of that action. Has he truly been blind all of this time?
Suguru's surprise is apparent. Finally, he bestows Satoru with the gift of his genuine smile. “I assumed that you were dead set on making my life miserable,” he says. “You even tried to sabotage my courtship…”
Now that the secrets between them have been uncovered and Satoru knows without a doubt that he has been wrong all of this time, he doesn’t hold his tongue.
“Because I cannot stand the sight of another having you. Must I spell it out for you?” Satoru touches the hem of Suguru’s nightgown, slowly inching it up. “Or shall I allow my tongue to make you see the truth?”
The rosey blush on Suguru’s face is pretty. He looks absolutely stunning like this. “No, show me with your actions,” he says, his eyes pleading. “My mother was discarded by a noble and left to rot here. I do not wish for that same fate.”
Satoru halts his actions. “That will never happen to you,” he says with conviction. “I am not seeking a whore. What I seek in you, is a wife and eternal companionship. If you will have me, that is.”
“You are all that I have ever wanted even when I wasn’t supposed to.”
With those secret words spoken, they are both able to share a smile at long last.
Before the news was announced, Lord Zenin turned his interest elsewhere. According to him, he knows when he’s lost, and from the moment the Duke of Wildridge volunteered as chaperone, he could see his intentions clearly.
Lord Itadori was slower on the uptake, and highly offended by the Duke’s “deceitful” ways. He even challenged him to a duel for Suguru’s hand in marriage but his family and advisors rightfully warned the young lord against such a foolhardy endeavor.
The Duchess was not surprised by the news nor was she displeased. She had long worried that her only son would pick an unsuitable wife. Now, she is glad that she was wrong.
After the Duchess’ blessing, the Queen’s blessing came shortly after. It was Her Majesty who legitimized Suguru, giving him the lawful right to become Duchess upon his marriage to the Duke.
Stories about the Duke who fell in love with a butler who was secretly a noble is all the buzz around the country, making Satoru and Suguru the most successful union of the season, perhaps the decade.
They honeymoon at the summer estate, alone aside from a handful of servants. To prove his pure intentions, Satoru has only given Suguru a chaste kiss and that was during the wedding.
So Suguru is startled when Satoru gives him a real kiss as soon as they’re alone in their chamber. He must admit that he is glad they waited for this. Had Satoru kissed him this way — with his tongue licking his teeth and delving into his throat — he would have given up his virtue sooner.
They have yet to make it to bed. Satoru has him pressed against the mahogany door, a knee pressed against his throbbing core, two hands gripping his ass, and tongue and teeth making a mess of him. Suguru fits his hands in Satoru’s tunic, the fine fabric serving as his only anchor.
When Satoru starts to move his knee against him, Suguru nearly faints.
Satoru chuckles. “Did you pleasure yourself during the wedding preparations?”
Suguru shakes his head.
“Why not?”
“I do not know how…”
“Allow me to teach you.”
Satoru kisses him again. This time it’s sweet and tender with more lips than tongue.
They go over to the bed. Satoru sits on the side after removing his tunic and he has Suguru sit on his lap with his back pressed against his chest. Taking Suguru’s hand, he glides it down his thin undergarments, stopping at his cunt.
His larger hand is over Suguru’s so when he squeezes, Satoru’s hand does the same thing. The pleasure that small action gives Suguru is eye-opening. He throws his head back, resting it on Satoru’s shoulder as his hand is guided between the layers of fabric.
They groan in unison when their fingers graze his wetness. From that point on, Satoru allows Suguru to touch and prod to his liking.
“I want you to understand your body so that you can recognize the pleasure that I will give you,” Satoru says, kissing the column of Suguru’s neck and teasing his nipples with his fingers.
Suguru glances down and sees how his fingers are covered in slick. He rubs his pearl, moaning and writhing from the intensity of everything that's occurring all at once. Satoru is in his ear, encouraging him and praising him, making him wetter with his words alone. When he tries to stop and halt what he believes is impending doom, Satoru tells him to keep going.
“You’re almost there,” he whispers in his ear; more like moans it. “Keep going, my love.”
Nodding, Suguru keeps going despite how slippery it is and how difficult it is to keep his finger in place. He hugs Satoru’s neck with his free arm and turns his head to kiss him. Their lips are locked when the dam finally breaks. As his body is wracked with pure bliss, he mistakenly bites down on Satoru’s lip hard enough to draw blood.
Before he can mutter an apology, the blood is licked away and Satoru is kissing him again. Suguru moans into the kiss when he feels Satoru’s thick finger enter him.
Soon that finger is curved, introducing him to a new height of pleasure. He starts to move his hips, fucking himself on Satoru’s hand with a fervency that is foreign to him. He’s always thought himself reserved, put together.
Of course, Satoru has always been the one to unravel him and get under his skin like no other.
“Satoru…Satoru!” Suguru barely registers how loud he’s being. Everything sounds as if it’s happening from a far away distance. “I…I’m…”
That pressure is building again, making his eyes prick with tears and his head light.
Satoru kisses the shell of his ear softly. “Let go, Suguru,” he encourages.
With a high-pitched scream, Suguru lets go. Everything is dark soon after, and when the light returns he and Satoru are fully nude. He’s laying on his back while Satoru’s head is between his thighs.
“I want to kiss you here,” Satoru says before lowering his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss on his sensitive pearl. “You smell divine, Suguru…” He licks him and hums. “You taste that way as well.”
Satoru’s tongue does what Suguru’s clumsy fondling and Satoru’s talented finger did times a thousand. The way Satoru licks and sucks on his cunt drives Suguru mad. His eyes roll into his skull, his toes curl, and he leaves his husband’s shoulders riddled with scratches. None of that deters Satoru, either. He groans and rubs his cock on the mattress as he continues to feast.
This is more than a kiss, but Suguru supposes he should’ve known better. Satoru has always been over the top and overly indulgent. He even keeps up his ministrations when Suguru is screaming and trembling as his orgasm overpowers him.
“I want to spend the entire night savoring you,” Satoru says as he moves up Suguru’s spent body. “Years have been spent coveting you. I must make up for lost time.”
Suguru hugs Satoru’s neck. “We’ll have forever. No need to worry.” He loves that this man is all his.
Satoru smiles. He is very handsome. Even more so when he is happy. “You’re right. Forever is ours.”
They share another kiss, and Suguru is surprised at how badly he’s missed Satoru’s lips in such a short span of time. He’s also the one leading, showing Satoru that he’s a fast learner. He sucks and nipples on Satoru’s lower lip, pulling a groan out of him.
Hours can be spent just like this; kissing and sampling one another. Yet both of them are anxious to be as one.
“It will hurt initially,” Satoru says as he gazes into his eyes. “I promise to make it feel twice as good.”
Suguru nods. “I trust you,” he says.
Satoru kisses him as he enters. There is some pain but the kiss is a helpful distraction. Suguru has bathed Satoru enough times to know that he is well endowed but he is still ill-prepared for how big he truly is.
Tears wet his eyelashes, trickling down his flushed face, and Satoru kisses them away as he moves inside of him with slow, measured thrusts. The more he moves, the wetter Suguru becomes and that makes the experience leagues better.
Very soon, Suguru is scratching up Satoru’s back and silently demanding him to move faster, to go deeper. Eventually, Satoru complies. He keeps his eyes on Suguru and when he does close them, it’s Suguru’s name he mutters.
Suguru wishes they could melt into one another; become one, truly. He wants any- and everything Satoru will give him. He wants all of him, every last drop.
His unspoken wish is granted when Satoru changes their position. Keeping a firm hold on Suguru, he sits up so that Suguru is straddling him. As they move against one another, Satoru tilts his head to the side, giving Suguru permission to mark him.
If Suguru marks Satoru — the Duke who may one day be King — that means he will be his now and always. He searches Satoru’s eyes to make sure he is certain; to be sure he wishes to be owned by a person of low birth. Nothing in Satoru’s eyes expresses uncertainty.
Suguru sinks his teeth into Satoru’s scent glands, leaving behind his mark, and Satoru releases inside of him shortly after. Long after his seed is spilled, he keeps moving, he keeps working toward Suguru’s pleasure as if he hasn’t reached it thrice already tonight.
“Claim me,” Suguru says in between a moan. He tilts his head to the side. “Make me yours.”
Unlike him, Satoru does not double check for reassurance. That has always been the difference between them.
Satoru seizes what he wants and Suguru deprives himself of it.
Well, not anymore.
The moment Satoru’s fangs pierce his skin, he orgasms for the fourth time that night. Only this time, he doesn’t recover until early morning where he is greeted by the sight of his husband who serves him breakfast in bed.
It’s a lovely start to a happily ever after.
fin.