Corvyn walked briskly down the hallway, looking straight ahead while being offered hundreds of apologies. Danielle followed beside him. She was hysterical. Her lips and tongue worked faster than Corvyn thought anatomically possible.
"And I swear I didn't say anything to bring your capability and servitude into question," she reiterated yet again, "and I'll round up as many staff as I can find, so we can all defend your station together!"
He scowled. Her voice talked over his thoughts. But there wasn't time to think anyway; they had reached the office. Lucidia waited within.
"I'll fight to the end," she proclaimed, surprising him with the strong grip of her hand on his arm, "if she lets you go over this, I'll- I'll- I'll set fire to this blasted manor tonight!"
Corvyn rolled his eyes. "Go to bed, Danielle."
"Oh, but Corvyn!"
"I say again: go to bed. You're exhausted and out of your wits with emotion. You aren't yourself."
She looked at him with sad eyes, sighed, suddenly grabbed his face by the cheeks, planted a full, hard kiss on his lips, looked sadly upon him a second time, released him, turned, and fled sobbing down the halway.
Corvyn entered after wiping his lips. He saw-
Her.
-seated at her desk, looking at him with distant eyes, breathing deeply through her slightly parted mouth. Her skin was rich with color and there was a film of sweat on her brow.
"Goodness, Countess, are you ill!?"
He checked his outburst and quickly reigned his posture into-
Slave!
-
a polite bow. Though he couldn't help but glance up at her with worried eyes. She looked as though she had been forced to dig in the garden!
"No, Corvyn," she sighed, "I am quite alright." Her exhalation dripped with satisfaction. It surprised her how quickly she managed to-
Tonight. He is
yours
tonight.
"Please, relax Corvyn. I summoned you to talk."
He straightened up, looking at her with his hands clasped behind him.
"And close the door, please."
As he
obey
ed, she asked "did Danielle tell you anything?"
"She said much," he answered with a smirk, "though I find her incomprehensible without a book before her."
Lucidia snickered and leaned back in her chair, resting both hands upon the table and drumming her fingernails on the varnished wood.
Above her, the old countess smiled, smug with a youthfulness her daughter didn't have anymore. Corvyn frowned at the painting. It wasn't fair. The late countess's visage remained dignified and carefree, while the passing of each day accumulated upon Lucidia's features, hardening what was once soft, encasing the delicate in calli.
There were several seconds of silence before Lucidia said "I have no idea how to start."
"Countess?"
"I mean, I don't know how to approach the topic I wish to discuss with you."
"Another time, after you've rested, perhaps?"
"No.
It must be tonight.
"
"Countess, are you sure you haven't fallen ill?"
Lucidia ignored his question and shrugged her shoulders. "I'll just get right to it. I noticed something during my dinner with the Baroness VinClaire."
Corvyn looked down, away from the countess.
"The whole dinner," she went on, "you had an erection!"
Corvyn bent forward into a bow. "Yes," he answered solemnly, "you are right. I hoped you would not see."
Then, standing straight with his chest puffed out, he proclaimed "I apologize for my lechery. I'll set forth for a monastery post-haste. The Sisterhood may condition the faults from my temper."
"No you will not," she said with a pointed finger, and then scoffed.
"You are a man. Men have urges. And the
urges
men have manifest themselves in very, er, 'prominent' ways at times. I have learned my share of physiology, Corvyn."
"My Countess is as intelligent as she is gracious," Corvyn nodded.
"Yes, and her servant is quite the eloquent toady," she smirked, "but truth be told, Corvyn, seeing your, ah-"
Your cock.
"-uh,
urges
manifest at dinner was, well," she paused, sighed, made an exasperated movement with her brows, and went on, "I've been face-to-face with my share of penii, but never at dinner; nevertheless, it was a relief to see it."
Corvyn's brows furrowed. He remained silent, listening and staring at a spot on the floor before his shoes.
"It truly was," Lucidia asserted, "because I now have proof you are a living, breathing person and not some golem in the shape of a man."
The headservant took a few seconds to soak her words in. "I am grateful that you can look past my mortal shortcomings."
"They are not
shortcomings
, Corvyn, they are an integral part of you."
"Yes, I know, and I am aware that I am far from perfect, though I assure you that I
do
strive for perfection."
Lucidia sighed, annoyed. "God, Corvyn."
"Countess?"
She sat and drummed her fingers.
Corvyn could be a real dullard when he was inclined to it. It was one of his defense mechanisms. Lucidia had known him long enough to know his various ticks and quirks. And she was sure that he, in turn, grew to know the lay of her own personality as well.
In fact, she was sure of it.
Over time, Corvyn had mastered the subtle art of deductive discretion: he knew when to say what, but also when to say nothing at all. In a simple sense, she had grown to see him as a friend.
But it wasn't simple, for he was also her-
Slave.
-Servant. Her headservant, she corrected, to herself, a bit nonplussed. And, in addition, he was a-
Slave
boy
.
-Man. A man. An adult
man
who was a
professional
who was
employed
and was
fairly compensated
by her. Not a- no, better not even
think
that again. What odd thoughts she had tonight!
Anyway, being a commoner and a man, Corvyn was no ordinary friend. She could talk to him of things that were better left undisclosed to other noblewomen. He provided perspectives: different, insightful, refreshing, and at times thought provoking. And he was practical and efficient, recognizing those times where a frank response was better suited than a comforting one.
So seeing his-
Cock
-made Lucidia face a whole new side of him. No, not only that, but his demeanor too. Not once had she seen him that flustered. And that look on his face! The whole dinner, he was staring so intently...
He was a dirty, perverted little boy.
She wanted to know more. But it was clear, seeing him stand there, eyes locked on some invisible anchor at his feet, that this entire discussion was making him uncomfortable. And since she considered him a friend, it would be wrong of her to-
You can
make
him talk
.
