Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sound of your heel hitting the tile on the last stair resounds heavily in the house, followed by several more in succession—right up until your hand pushes the grand door open to invite yourself into the room of your lady.

For the time being, it's naught but a silent abode. Lady Yuna happens to be out for the day on a promenade with other noblewomen, perhaps busying herself with scones and handfuls of tea; not usually the kind that she prefers, though. Ladies may enjoy a soft floral blend, but you know she likes the strong earthy kinds more. Hence why it’s found commonly enough that she would refuse the teacup from others, but not from your own offering hands.

It might be a little narcissistic to admit, yet the knowledge of your lady’s preference does happen to give you pride and stroke your ego; albeit you are in no place to outright show it off.

As she's not present at the moment, you set the tea tray down by the bedside table first. Easily, you fall into the typical routine you’re accustomed to pass the time as you wait for her arrival. Fluffing the pillows on the queen-sized bed, smoothing out the sheets and blankets, adjusting the curtains to prevent particularly strong rays of light pouring in; giving the room a cool and dim setting. Other than that, there's nothing much left for you to clean aside from dusting the paintings on the wall, storing the papers filled with her scribbles properly aside for her future reference, and refilling the ink pot for further more of her late night inspirations.

Efficiency is your best trait, but now that you have nothing left to do, you can only hope to stand idly by the foot of the bed until her presence is announced. Prim and proper, you keep your hands in front of you with not a wrinkle to be seen on your white apron. Your black dress stretches to the floors with its cuffs and collars straightened to perfection. Not one thing is out of place, which is the way your heart rightfully appreciates.

Ironically enough, it happens to always be you who sets the house right rather than the actual lady of the house. Lady Yuna; a bold, graceful, and memorable woman. But her methods are often chaotic and leave a sight sore to the eyes. Of course you could never berate someone of higher status than you, yet that is the thing.

Lady Yuna is…well, one cannot call her peculiar—though many seem to perceive her as so. It's just that she treats you with camaraderie and sees you more as a friend rather than a servant. For how many years you have served her—you don't even remember the exact number anymore—only you can be trusted to be her confidant for all matters involved. But you also happen to be the only servant in the house, so it doesn't really come as much of a surprise.

For all this experience and proximity you have had so far with the aristocracy, you have learned that even if someone should be offered with respect for her name, that does not make people incapable of keeping their mouths shut. People have always had things to say about Lady Yuna. It is just unfortunate they are not done in the good light despite that being what she deserves.

They say that Yuna is an irresponsible noble lady for choosing to become so close with her personal maid. On top of her being seemingly the most unlady-like lady to ever become a lady, she clearly isn't well liked by her peers. These same peers still believe in the rooted misconception that if boundaries are not established, then lowly servants might get ahead of themselves and begin to think they have a footing in high society as well. Mixed signals might be sent, and wrong ideas might be present.

According to their assumptions, Yuna isn't acting within the right mindset to understand that what she's doing is committing the grave act of allowing commoners to fit in with the not-so-common fancies; or as they would all like to say behind her back. And of course it comes to no surprise that it is most typically the men that she has rejected in the past who come forward to say frivolous things such as these, attempting to smear her name as retribution of some sorts. They are only heard by the public simply because they are men. Otherwise, they don't even have high enough of a footing in the hierarchy of aristocratic titles to be actually given half an ear for.

In your opinion, if women could wield swords, you would've had all the men in high society eradicated by now. Consider that as retribution for disturbing your lady.

Then again, Lady Yuna is a refined lady. And refined ladies do not argue against men.

Unless it is one of the rare instances where you are involved, then excuse her for keeping her heeled foot on the ground and her voice raised against those speaking vile things about you. Because she is my servant, and I have never allowed anyone to talk as if she is a public humiliation for everyone to have liberty with! That is what she had said before and what you have still kept in the gallery of your memories until now. Word for word, scene for scene. Was that not the first time you have ever been defended before?

The day she had invited you along for a tea gathering was the same day you would face people attempting to shame you. They treated every servant the same, so it was sadly predictable that they would do the same for you. Instructions, demands, scoldings of all kinds; you received them when the gathering got too big and you lost sight of your lady. It was not supposed to be the kind of fight you should have faced. But the servants that were actually in charge of the tea gathering just seemed to be getting weary, so you had only offered to share their burden as mutual understanding.

All the words that the other improper aristocrats spilled didn't even affect you that much. Perhaps you were used to it. The treatment was nothing you had never seen before in the past. Perhaps you were just desensitized. The more they spewed awful things at you, there was like a barrier within you that blocked it all away. Perhaps you just didn't care. Or perhaps you were just exhausted until you didn't realize it yourself. Until Lady Yuna did.

That day went down as the day that all of the aristocracy would go on to harbor some kind of animosity against Yuna. For what? For just defending you when it was the right thing to do? Defending her servant meant defending her status and also proving the audacious ones to stick to their seats for ever trying to say she's wrong. She may be incorrect on some fronts, but you are the one that she is confident she will never be wrong with. You are not the mistake. The current state of the aristocracy is; a lady and a servant can be friends without risks behind it.

Every bit of nonsense about commoners not knowing their place and becoming bolder to request for the impossible is not true. After all, you are the best example of that. Your existence proves that she's right about this subject in particular because you clearly don't own these said feelings that they keep talking about. You would never dream to become part of the nobility as it is not your life. Even you have once heart fully told her before.

And she knows that she's right. She has never been so sure of anything else. Her determination to defend you blinds her from the mishaps you keep accidentally making around her ever since your views of her had changed after the tea gathering. Clumsiness is not a trait you have had after all these years of being a servant for other people’s clumsiness; Yuna included.

Yet from that day on, your views had begun to change. It wasn't as if you regarded her lowly in the past, you just treated her with normal respect as you would for anyone.

But something was different. Not for her, maybe. For you? Definitely. When she started allowing you inside her room, there were spontaneous rises of certain feelings that bubbled inside you. A lady’s private quarters is not forbidden nirvana for you, yet for someone as private as Yuna to consider letting you in was already a shock.

Then, more things had begun slowly. You remembered her favorite tea blend and started taking extra time and care to brew the perfect cup of tea. You accompanied her out to the gardens and even sat down alongside her for mealtimes outside of the usual dining room setup—you were not as unsettled about it as you thought you would be. She grew to care for your opinions about the dresses she would pick at the tailor’s, and you earnestly began to give her compliments and proper criticism that you realized came straight from your heart.

Lady Yuna is also talkative at times, but not always. She talks like windchimes clattering against the gentle wind, striking right at your heart. When she goes to retire for the night, you find yourself staring at the moon from the large window in the comfort room, where a part of you misses her voice. In fact, there were times when you even held the lack of courage to look into her eyes—not when it feels like the world collapses every time you do.

Lady Yuna is right when she has to be right, but not always.

The feelings that you have are indeed not related to the riches and privilege of a noble, but that's just what makes it even worse. It is a feeling far worse than that. It is the kind of feeling that will have you shamed and despised for. It's the feeling of an ailment. It causes your heart to pounce irresponsibly. And it only begins when the source of it is occupying your mind, and soul, and somewhere deep inside your heart as well. Your lady Yuna is a lovely lady. So lovely that even you cannot escape from this—admiration you have for her. Surely it's just that.

When this state of admiration starts growing hands of their own and reaches towards your daily routines as well, it has crossed your mind enough times to consider that this could possibly be just a fit of mania befalling you. It's not as if you have anyone to consult with in regards to this, so for some time, you've been concerned.

Is it normal to, let's say, begin bringing more things than usual from your morning market strolls? Yuna has always liked these vanilla-flavored cold cream treats, so you simply bought one cup for her everyday. She accused you of spoiling her because of it, but she doesn't refuse your gift nonetheless. You've even thought of asking for the recipe from the vendor in order to make it yourself. That way, you could give her as much as she wishes.

Second to that, how about the times you've helped discard the several gifts that Lady Yuna receives from numerous eligible—though undeserving—bachelors attempting to court her, and sometimes even accidentally starting a fire to dispose of them completely without evidence left? Your lady isn't the kind that hoards, so she's fine with getting rid of most of them unless they are deemed practical enough for essential use. She’s never questioned about the frequent swirling smoke she's seen outside the windows either.

As long as she allows you to have only your presence allowed in the house, then it's of no big importance to you on what should ever happen to those gifts.

But lastly—Lady Yuna loves her baths warm and fresh, and you would always do your utmost to give her the best service as her personal servant, but how would she feel if she knew? If she knew that whenever you have your back facing her, giving her modesty to let go of her noble fashion and be left bare to sink into the tub where her muscles lose tension, you lose a bit of your sanity yourself.

If she knew that whenever you're called over to help wash her hair, massaging her scalp with the deftness of your fingers pressing and circling at the right spots, hearing her sigh and watching her roll her head back to expose the expanse of her unblemished throat—something stirs inside you. And it piles on until you might be having a fever.

Yet she doesn't know. She doesn't have to know about it, either. You’ll keep these feelings to yourself until you die if you have to. How ashamed it is to know that a servant has certain feelings for you…you just can't fathom.

Just then, snapping out of your thoughts, your ears catch the echoing sound of doors being opened then closed right after. Speaking of the devil, Lady Yuna has finally arrived home. Feet are pattering on the ground and up the spiral stairs, down the hallway, and coming closer; closer until you're more than sure that she's standing right in front of her room’s door. You're just about to attend to her presence when the door opens and she walks in, her hand touching the door handle. The handle must never be touched by a lady. Incredulously, you stare.

Sure, your lady is no such kind of snobbish as far as you know. She would not give a damn or care less whether or not you opened the door for her or if she had to do it herself. But you have heard it yourself; touching a door handle will ruin a lady’s fair skin. That's why you've always put in strenuous effort to clean and dust it frequently so that Yuna would not suffer such an ill fate. Even if she says she doesn't believe in it anyway.

Lady Yuna shuts the door behind her and immediately stretches her arms above her head, not registering your unannounced presence just yet. A relieved sigh slips out of her lips, her limbs left loose and warm. Yuna blinks blearily a few times with her shoulders slumping before she smiles in your direction. “What are you doing here?”

Settling yourself into a deep bow first, your head rises while your mouth moves to state the obvious. “I'm welcoming you back home, my lady,” without waiting for a reply, you make haste to approach and begin helping Yuna out of her outdoor attire. She doesn't decline your hands, letting you do the honors of untying her deathly tight corset and slipping the sleeves of her dress down.

This isn't your first time unraveling her apart, so it's like second nature to know every button and how to deconstruct the dress until it is no longer a dress. But now there's a certain tension that comes with it, mostly from your side if anything. Lady Yuna couldn't possibly share the same sentiment as you.

Nonetheless, you do your task until it is done—ignoring when your eyes divert to not witness your lady in her barest form, a rare flush creeping up your cheeks. Once the dress meets the wooden floor and Yuna’s arms are through the sleeves of her silken robe, only then do you step away. Even her hairdo is undone as it cascades down her back in heavy locks of blue, a bit frizzy from the outdoor wind but nothing that a wash wouldn't fix.

Neglecting the stray clothing on the floor, Yuna strides over to the bed before sitting herself down, rolling her shoulders back with closed eyes before reopening them again. Her gaze is unfocused, lazy, but it stays trained on you. Something is different about the way she stares at you today. But you can't pinpoint it. “Where's my tea?”

Even before she finishes her question, you've already poured a cup and presented it over to Yuna. She takes it with much glee, drinking a sip and humming in delight. Seeing her pleased, a faint smile appears on your face.

You ask out of perpetual habit, “shall I prepare a bath for you while you rest for a bit, my lady?”

“Mn, no need.” Yuna sets the teacup aside, languidly resting with her hand pressed against the mattress behind her. The collar of her robe slyly slips down as a result from the movement, and you muster every bit of your willpower to not stare at the expanse of milky skin being revealed. She adds, “I’m far too tired tonight. Untangle my hair before bed for me, please?”

“Of course.” Reaching for the bedside cupboard, you open the drawer to fish out a gilded comb. It was a gift from a suitor; said to be handcrafted by a well renowned gold maker or whatever else he tried to say in order to woo her over. The only reason why she kept it was because the little dog etched on its plating reminded her of a stray puppy she used to take care of, and it also just so happened that her old wooden comb had just broken the day before. The weight of this comb lies heavy in your palm, with a steadier grip required to hold onto it.

You sit down beside her on the bed to perform your task, letting it glide down Yuna’s hair with ease. After a bit of time, you decide to converse again, at ease as much as Yuna is. “How was the promenade today, my lady?” Feeling the soft hair between your fingers, you catch a whiff of sweet perfume. Must be from the other ladies.

Yuna’s back faces you, so you don't get to see her expression upon hearing the question. She has a pillow on her lap when she begins telling, “It was fine. Like any other ordinary promenade. But the weather was oddly hot.”

“Might you consider you were the cause of it?”

A quick laugh slips out of Yuna as a result. “Oh, you humor me. The other ladies would not like to hear that.”

“But you are the only lady I attend to, my lady.” You answer back, setting the comb aside once all the tangles are removed. Before you even realized, your hands have started moving on their own to fix up a loose braid for Yuna’s hair to stay put in. She didn't give you verbal approval, yet didn't disapprove at the same time, so you assume she doesn't mind. Of course she wouldn’t. “Clearly, all the things I say are meant for only your entertainment.”

Once she feels your hands gradually coming to stop, Yuna hums. “So you mean to say that not all of it might be true?” She lifts up a small mirror to initially inspect her appearance, but later darts her eyes to meet yours in the reflection, staring intently at you once more. “As long as I am happy, then it is okay to lie?”

If it weren't for the clear mirth voiced in her question, your hands would've stiffened by such words. The light-hearted nature of the conversation still flows comfortably as you answer with a similar expression.

“Nothing that I say is a lie, my lady.”

You say no more after that.

“If you say so.” Yuna replies, seemingly unconvinced. There's not much you can do about it.

To uplift the down spirits harboring closely, you decide to switch topics. “What about the suitors you've met today, my lady?” You ignore the way your heart twists upon the question. “Were any of them to your liking?”

“No.” Some part of you cheers after hearing that answer. You still wish there wasn't any, though. “They’re disappointments; men and all.” Maybe it's the unspeakable emotions within you that are slowly changing your reasonable reasonings, but Yuna almost seems…pleased, when talking about the faults of the opposite sex. “It’s no surprise that until now, there is not a single one that suits my fancy.” She finishes off with a bored tone.

“Do you even like men, my lady?” You joke.

By that question, you weren't expecting Yuna to put down her mirror silently. She says nothing as she straightens her back and leans an inch away from your touch. That’s before she slowly turns to face you, the intent stare even more prominent on her face once you see her face-to-face. The rouge on her cheeks and lips she had on this morning must have been wiped off on the way back. She still looks beautiful despite the lack thereof.

You can't explain why yourself, but you find your lips lowering from the small smile you had just a second ago. Something about today feels wrong. It feels as if you've been caught with a sin.

Are your feelings a sin?

Or maybe you’ve gone too far with that question—a joke, you even thought it was one. What a presumptuous thing to ask; of course Yuna would still like men, even as awful as they are and as much she doesn't seem to have a kind of liking towards them at all. Lady Yuna of the aristocracy is not a spinster. She won't become one. It will take some time but at one point she too will be wedded with a husband and live in a house with children of her own blood. Whether or not you are in that same house, still serving her or not, is undetermined.

And the idea of there being a day where you are no longer your lady’s loyal servant awfully pains you a lot more than even the idea of death. But at the end of the day, it is just the truth. You are naught but an easily replaceable servant. It's Lady Yuna who will never be second to anything. Not in your eyes, at least.

With a heavy inhale, you wish to take back your words and slap your mouth shut forever.

Yuna beats you to it and suddenly leans closer to you without warning, her hands supporting her weight as the mattress dips underneath both of you. Her eyes still haven't left you when she oddly comes down to a whisper, asking you back instead of answering your question. She says your name, then, “do you even like men yourself?”

This is not the first time you've been rendered speechless by your lady. This is, however, the first time you find yourself fidgeting, mind blank as you're unsure of what to say and what you shouldn't admit. I don't like men, your heart wants to argue. I despise them. I despise them all, even the entire aristocracy for tarnishing your name and belittling you like you are not leaps and bounds better than all of them. I don't like anyone. Your eyes drop to her lips before you even know it. But you. Something clicks in your head. My lady; I just simply like you so much more.

In a complicated dance between unanswered questions and unsaid answers, you end up blurting out another question to retort Yuna. But if somehow all of what is said so far is read and analysed between the lines, the answers to all the questions might be much more obvious than either of you could've realized. If you even could realize anything other than the want that pulses inside you. A want for something. Something more, you think.

Summing up the courage to ask, your eyes flitter up to look back right at Yuna’s eyes. Now the stares are between both of you, neither willing to blink. “You’ve mentioned before that you have been looking to be wedded for so long, my lady,” you dare to say, hands gripping your dress until fabric spills within the gaps of your fingers. “And it is true you've been looking. But is it even a suitor that you're envisioning in the first place?”

“Who else do you think I envision on the day of my wedding?” Another question in return.

Yuna's head tilts to the side, the small movement causing the sleek silk of her robe to shift similarly like a waterfall. The exposed collarbone is—terrifyingly—tempting enough, but now it teeters right at the end of her shoulder, almost ready to slide down at any given moment. As much as your eyes yearn to dart towards the sight, your face works hard to not betray even a miniscule portion of your emotions, remaining still as stone. It won't be the first time you've had to restrain yourself from certain views, especially when the view is her.

Keeping yourself nonchalant enough, your response is—but of course, a question. “Perhaps a maiden?”

Now that is the question that breaks it all apart. From keeping it blunt to facing the possibility straight on. Your breath holds itself back, unwilling to relieve yourself with liberty as you wait to see Yuna’s reaction. Will she reel back and look at you in disgust? Will she laugh, call you a peasant, and pretend that this conversation had never happened when she wakes up the next day? Will she label you insane and throw you out of the house, never to cross paths with her ever again? Or—

Will she pick you up and kiss you gently on the lips, a dream come to life; as she caresses your cheek and looks at you like you’re meant to be as divine as her? With a smile as soft as cotton, will she respond to you the same way?

So many possibilities. Yet the one you're faced with is her raising brows, a teasing smile on her lips, her eyes looking at you as if to say, are you hoping that I would say yes to a maiden; just so you could begin wishing that it was you walking down the wedding aisle in the deepest part of your fantasies? It only hits you now when you realize what her stare consists of: knowing. She knows. Is it about your true feelings, hers, or something else?

Your face must've paled significantly upon your discovery, because Yuna then goes on to lift her hand and tease a stray hair away from your face with her index, twirling it around her finger. If Yuna notices the way you tense up further because of it, she doesn't point it out. Rather, her finger drops from playing with your hair to drag a nail against the line of jaw, slow but delicate in her action. Your eyes quiver. Hers light up. Your lip slightly trembles in the following. Hers begin to part.

How is it possible that even without another word spoken out of her mouth, she has left you without the bravery to slip a word out yourself? Should you run?

Her voice sweetly calls your name just as you begin to think of physically leaving this tension behind. It causes the hairs on your skin to raise, feeling unsettled by her presence for the first time. Your ears turn pink once Yuna slides her hand to your nape, pulling you against your wishes to come closer to her now. Her touch is hot and cold at the same time. Your heart pounds with where your pulse amplifies close to the points on your neck being lightly grazed by her nails. It's dizzying. Not dizzying enough for you to unhear her next words loud and clear.

“Do you know what kind of person I wish to spend my life with?” Her voice lilts, an almost teasing approach coming with it. What is there to even tease? “Now that I think about it properly, I like the kind that is soft.”

Before you could stop yourself, your mouth repeats with a mind of its own. “Soft?”

The quietness of your voice makes her giggle. “Yes, soft. That is the word I would describe it.” Yuna pauses for a thought, then continues to add. “I like the kind that is both soft and kind. Not too arrogant. Perhaps a little obedient. As long as it's someone deserving of something better, then I would like to care for them.” And without any warning whatsoever, Yuna smiles. “Someone that's quite like you.”

With her hand on your nape and your mind left elsewhere, she pulls you down together with her and you come tumbling down on top of your lady. Your breath is punched out of your chest at the unexpected proximity. Your eyes have grown as wide as a deer’s. The only thing saving you are your hands against the mattress and placed on both sides of Yuna, supporting your weight to stay hovering above her. Yuna still tries to pull you closer. You tense yourself and refuse to budge. It has come to a stalemate between you two, too close and too hot.

Just then, the words that were left floating in the air by Yuna finally come crashing down on you. The same time it speeds up, your heart drops. It couldn’t be. You must’ve heard wrong. Otherwise…? “I beg your pardon?”

Yuna repeats, more certain than you’ve ever heard her before. “Someone like you. I want someone like you.” A gasp comes out of your throat when Yuna surges upwards to press her weight against you, flipping you down onto the bed as she lingers above, shifting like a viper watching her prey. “Or maybe I just want you instead.”

For some time, silence falls between you both. Yuna keeps you under her watchful gaze, inspecting you like you’re an enigma to be discovered. Every feature, every reaction, every breath you do—she analyzes and dictates herself, closer to finding the truth you’ve laid hidden within yourself. “I have often wondered and asked,” her hand grasping your cheek startles you, the initial coldness of her fingers melting into warmth once she begins her delicate caressing. Yuna’s words are heavy, resounding in your head once she mutters quietly, almost as if someone else might hear. “Why should I still go out and find myself a man when I already have you right here?”

Realistically, you know you hear your own blood rushing in your ears. Every bit of your senses are heightened at this moment, as if trying to find a flaw in this circumstance—something to convince you that this cannot possibly be the reality you're truly facing right now. A reality that is so close to the dreams of your harbor…it can't be helped that you simply cannot believe it at hand. But instinctively, you deflect back. “You jest, my lady.”

“I assure you that I am not joking. Do I seem like the type to not be serious about something like this?”

An awkward laugh pours out of you before you know it. “I will not answer that. But I hope you know that I am well out of the picture when it comes to these sorts of things. I am nothing but a noble lady’s servant, after all. What would I know…” You trail off, lost in the way Yuna’s eyes seem to peer right into the very bits of your soul. Her brows are furrowed, concentrated. Like she's trying to pick you apart and understand you from within.

Your words are forgotten, but not Yuna’s. She adds on more, pressing even further until you fear you might be suffocating on thin air. “You do know you mean more to me than just a mere servant, correct?” Her lips are suddenly too close. She tilts downwards, grazes them against your cheek. It's feather-like, delicate and pleasing. Almost as if she's pressing a kiss onto your skin. Maybe she did. You don't know. You don't see anything aside from just white at this point. “Also,” Yuna pauses, her mouth now hovering over yours in a dangerous temptation you can hardly resist. “I know that you’ve been wishing to have me with you in this manner as well.”

The spell set upon you finally shatters at that moment. You blink, waking up from your daze. “What?”

Yuna knows about your feelings? The feelings you've swore to never let her know? Those same feelings of admiration you refuse to refer to as what they truly are?

How long has she known?

You've always had an inner gut telling you that she might have noticed everything as much as you have, but to hear it face-to-face like this…how could you not feel ashamed about it? A servant with feelings for her lady. One maiden to another. This cannot be right. Society will denounce it. Everything about this is not proper.

She wasn't supposed to know.

You weren't supposed to face your feelings as they are right now. They were supposed to be suppressed. Well kept. Hidden. Almost nonexistent. But they do exist. And now they're ripping you apart in hot, spilling tears.

Something must've occurred on your face, because Yuna appears to have stopped herself from saying something when she sees you. Her thumb does a swipe against your cheekbone. Concern suddenly flashes within her eyes.

For some reason, dread fills up inside of you.

“Whatever are you crying for?” Yuna's voice, as beautiful as she sounds, is a painful screech in your ears.

It takes a moment far too long to understand what she's referring to. It takes only for your hand to touch your own face and understand why your eyesight’s gotten blurry. Overwhelmed by many emotions, you use both your hands to cover your face as you turn yourself away, unwilling to show this side of yourself to your lady. She shouldn't see you like this. The ‘you’ that exists outside of being prepared for all her requests except for this one.

Yuna gently grasps your wrists and tries to pry your hands open, but you stay firm in keeping yourself hidden from her. She sighs quietly once she notices you're not planning to let go anytime soon.

“If you think I am going to condemn you for harboring your secrets, then you must think too lowly of me.” Yuna states, stares, then continues when she receives no response from you. “Does it feel that horrible to find out that you have always held these feelings towards me? Until you don't have the face to look at me when I want to tell you about my own feelings?” Still no response.

Yuna wears a pout that you don't manage to see. “I have just said I want you. Whatever more are you still hiding from me for? Please let me look at you. I desire to see your beautiful face.”

The more Yuna talks without you, you gradually let up—peeking between your fingers. “No.”

“No?” Yuna repeats in exaggerated disbelief. Now she must be trying to make you laugh. “I am your lady! How dare you say no to me? You must be asking to be punished. Should I refuse you from serving me breakfast the next day? Decline your invitation to the morning market?”

When Yuna suddenly grabs your waist, your mind stops until you feel her nudging your legs open with her knees, settling herself right in between them. “Or should I make this punishment more…physical?” And when Yuna abruptly lets herself roam her hands over the lines of your waist, your mind resorts to panic instead. Just in time as Yuna drags her palm down the flat of your stomach, a burning trail of her touch that leaves you red.

Flustered, you free your face from your hands and hurriedly splutter words beyond recognition. “My lady—!”

“Ah. Now you're looking at me again.” Yuna interrupts, pleasedly looking at you with a glint in her eyes. Her hand stops right below your navel, staying put with no intention to pull back. And then her voice drops to a lower pitch, sending tingles under your skin. “Don't ever hide yourself away from me.”

A boiling heat appears in the lower part of your abdomen now. You ignore it for the favor of continuing this conversation as civilized as you can be. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you try to look back at Yuna once more. It's horribly quiet when you squeak out a word at some point, so quiet that your eyes are shadowed with apology knowing that Yuna has to strain her ears to hear you. “When?”

Yuna, nonetheless, regards you —and every other part of you—in earnest. “Hm?”

“When did you find out about my…personal wishes?”

“Well, it wasn't that hard to not notice.” Yuna admits, hand caressing your cheek once more. “You know that I’ve had plenty of personal servants before you, right?” You nod. “But none have chosen to stick with me this long, let alone still treat me so kindly without harboring some kind of ill feelings against me. You just— appear to be different, I suppose. I could almost say that you're rather…” Her hand snoops low enough for her thumb to brush over your lower lip, continuing, “...intimate with how you handle each one of my whims and needs.”

“And based on your reactions, I must be right, aren't I?” Yuna adds at the end.

Finding no point to deny, you glumly nod again. She laughs. “You're quite adorable, you know that? I think it makes quite a lot of sense for me to be drawn towards you. Unlike men, every single thing you do gives me life.”

Your entire self is the only reason for my life, you think.

“Is that so?” Yuna suddenly asks, amused but also in awe. Upon notice, you've just spoken your thoughts out.

There's no point left in the world for you to run away from this absolute embarrassment that engulfs you whole. Exasperated, you think of the second best thing to do. You change the topic. “It's quite late, isn't it?”

Yuna is unperturbed, but plays along nonetheless. “I suppose it is.”

“Shall I go fetch that bath for you now? The water gets freezing, especially late at night.”

“Why is a bath so necessary? Is it so you can place your hands on me and watch me naked to fulfill your fantasies?” So much for changing the topic. Yuna grins at the sight of your agape mouth at her audacity. She basks in her triumph. “Why fantasize when you have me right here?”

“My lady.” You manage to say without a stutter. “This is highly inappropriate, I'm afraid.”

“You're afraid?” Yuna focuses on the wrong part of your words. Of course she does. Rather purposefully if you really take it into consideration. “Don't be.” She reassures you. “I don't bite.” A pause. Then, “At least, not yet.”

You blink once you’ve managed to comprehend what's going on in its entirety. Lady Yuna. She's teasing you.

It's what you've always wanted.

But the rules of the aristocracy; they repeat in your head endlessly. The memories of Lady Yuna being berated by her peers. She already receives so much, what if she begins to let the people know of the things that she does with her servant? Her servant, a commoner. Her servant, which is you. Her servant, who audaciously fell in love with her lady, and now her lady touches her like a lover. Aristocrats and their history of having flings with commoners have never been perceived to be good, no matter if it is casual or something far more intimate. Flings are meant to be physical as well. There is no place for feelings. As it should be. With that in mind, your heart squeezes.

You can't do it. You can't bear to look at her. You are in no place to be given that honor. At all. That's what you tell yourself, a constant mantra in your head you keep reciting while your eyes look away from the beauty above you and instead stare at a distant dot at the corner of the room; unsure of what it is but at least it keeps you occupied. Your lips are downturned, further emphasizing yourself.

You try thinking of anything but her.

You fail.

You're distracted yet again by the long fingers following along the edges of your body, moving slowly but steadily down the sides of your thighs now. But not exactly, because your skirt still forbids such intimacy out for the sake of modesty. Except your skirt, supposed to cover until your feet, is now hiked up until your knees. Because Yuna keeps slyly lifting it upwards without your objection. It starts by revealing your ankles, then half your calves, and then all of it. You catch a frown on her face when she sees your black tights underneath, sheer but is still the thinnest barrier left for her to fiddle with until she can finally catch a proper glimpse of your skin.

But Yuna doesn't move any more forward than where she is. Noticing your stiff posture, your faraway look, and your overall sad face, her teasing grows less and bit. Until there is naught but a caress of soft fingers against your ankle, somehow keeping your tethered.

She calls your name. “Are you afraid of me?”

Of course not. You shake your head, a silent no.

“Then why?” She asks again. “Why are you still behaving like this?” Behaving like what? “As if you don't truly wish to pursue your innermost feelings for me.” Oh. “Why is that? Is it that you think I'm not being sincere?”

The question snaps you out of your efforts to remain civilized. The tone of it is oddly gentle, almost soothing if you didn't know any better. You swallow to rid yourself of the dryness of your throat but inevitably have to croak out your response nonetheless; a harshness that can't possibly match with your lady’s grace. “Not at all, I— I know that you mean well with your approach, but…” You trail off, unwilling to continue any further.

Unminding of your silence, Yuna hums. She suddenly leans down and your heart jumps to your throat. You think she's approaching closer to push aside your concerns, and a part of you thinks that would be nice. To forget about the status quo and just let yourself loose in the moment. A moment that she could control for her benefit and you would follow along without objection. She could kiss you breathless and the only thing you would ask for is more. But she doesn't.

Her face inches closer, then swerves to the side where she hides herself against your clothed shoulder. Murmuring against the fabric, her lips move to pronounce words yet press like a delicate, faint kiss. This is the voice you cling to; speaking to you kindly. “When I first began to notice the signs, I thought that my mind was just making things up. My own servant, keeping secrets that contain me and her? Together? I figured not.”

Guilt rises up within you in the form of bitter bile, your stomach churning upon hearing her. She's right. How can a simple servant like you even dare to dream of something more outside of this? The apology spills out of you like a proclamation before the guillotine. “I’m sorry,” and in a quieter voice, “for harboring such thoughts.”

“Don't be.” Yuna surprises by thanking you instead. “Thank you for being honest with me at this moment. Now, I am finally aware that the things you're thinking about me are true, and my doubts are quelled.” She speaks as if relieved and as her lips shift up your neck. “But seeing how we've already gotten ourselves into this position…” Outside of your dreary expectations, you receive her whisper against the shell of your reddening ear. An invitation. “Do you not want to try letting those thoughts out for once?”

Your breath catches. A sparkle of hope appears; a dangerous, cruel thing. “It's not right, my lady. It's wrong, I—”

“Does it really have to be right?” Yuna lifts herself up and grabs you by your chin. She forces you to look back at her, right into her eyes. You hear a whisper inside your head: this will be the death of you, but every part of you ignores it in favor of this touch. “So what if it's wrong?” It must've been an illusion of the light playing with you, making you think you see her gaze falling down to your lips. “What if I want to be wrong?”

This is the kind of touch you could've never dreamed of without feeling awful about yourself soon after, waking up sore and in need to wash the sheets you've slept in the night prior. Where you were alone. Cold. Shivering in the dark but envisioning yourself drowning in burning, passion-filled warmth. About her. About you. Together.

Entangled. Embraced. Enveloped. In heat. In ardor. In love.

The words tumble out of you before you could even catch yourself in time as a result. “Then maybe…I will be wrong with you too.”

But a chime of the grand clock conveniently resounds heavily throughout the mansion, indicating midnight whilst taking you out of your stupor. The air thickens as you come to a realization of what you've just said. Against better judgment, your cheeks begin to grow red. You attempt to leave. Yuna keeps you locked underneath and wordlessly looks at you, blue eyes simmering with wildfire. Your words have not left her mind.

You squirm, blurting out hurried defenses to take back your already spoken words. “My lady, I’m— I didn't mean to say that, please—” Yuna doesn't listen and acts according to want. Her own wants. And maybe a little bit of yours too. She hikes your skirt up higher in one firm push until the fabric is all bunched up at your waist, revealing your knickers and more of your black tights.

Yuna looks down at you. She breathes.

“What a sight.”

A quiet plea is barely out of your lips as you try to weakly push her away. It's mortification straight to your bones upon knowing how your body doesn't react to defend you. Instead, it allows. It obeys. And so does your mind, listening to what your pounding heart wants. Yuna doesn't budge when you fail to squirm out of her grasp, not even when you're looking back at her with shaking irises that unfold your deepest concerns.

Bedding with a noble lady as a mere servant? It's pure sin. It's nothing good yet you don't resist when Yuna drops her head back down to your neck again, this time with a certain eagerness in her movements. Her lips touch directly against your skin instead of a tease, where she nibbles a spot just right above your high collar to test the heating waters. Her hand travels with warmth delicately spreading over your thighs, sending shivers down your spine in contrast before she holds onto you tightly.

Then her nibble turns into a bite, sharply digging into your flesh. You let out an undignified squeak. That's what it takes for Yuna to retract her bite and lift her head back up, eyes meeting yours, something akin to lust swirling within them. Her grip on your thigh loosens; perhaps without her own awareness that she had just let you go. She mutters quietly, “you just made a sound I’ve never heard you do before.”

“And?” You want to curl up and die. “Must you point that out loud?!”

To your bewilderment, Yuna chuckles. Her head throws back as her braid loosens alongside the sash holding her robes together. She gives you a show and you take it in without knowing. The silk of her robe falls as her hair drapes over her back. Miles upon miles of her skin is shown for your eyes. You take a sharp breath in. Your heart pounds inside you like it threatens to burst. Lady Yuna is in her barest form. It's not like you've never seen her like this before, what with you being responsible for her baths and dress ups, but those were different situations.

This; is a whole other situation entirely. There was never a need for you to admire her body until now. Her skin is smooth, unblemished—beautiful. The robe is easily discarded to the floor with a glide down from her hand. The warm light of the candles—there were candles the whole time? Did you even light them up when you first entered the room or were you just too distracted by the brightness of your lady? You don't remember; can't even think further back than the current moment before you—surrounds her and illuminates the edges and curves.

Your eyes meet hers again. A panic surges inside you so you divert your eyes down. Now your eyes are suddenly at her bosom. You panic even more. Yuna is blessed with a size not too big nor small, and you've perhaps have thought before on one or more occasions that it's ample enough. She's perfect. Always is. Forever will be.

As for why you were thinking about your lady’s breasts in the first place, it was because it was once a dark night and the heat pooling within your legs kept you up too much to retire for proper slumber. That's why.

Does Lady Yuna know about that night too? You pray not. Embarrassment can only go so far until you're dead.

“Are you done staring?”

Yuna crawls over you. She grips your jaw and suddenly you're no longer looking at her bosom. But what you're meeting is not her eyes or her face either. You watch the ceiling, puzzled for a second, trying to bring your head back down but Yuna refuses to let go of her grasp on you. Forced to see nothing, it feels as if you're momentarily blind. Your eyes are not allowed to see the way Yuna begins unbuttoning the front of your dress, bringing your high collar down as more of your own skin is revealed to her. “I’ve never enjoyed seeing you wearing this.”

“Why is that?” Your voice is oddly raspy, almost straining to speak.

A few more buttons are undone in the time you wait for her answer. Air seeps in the opening of your dress and bites your skin. Your throat, your shoulders, your collarbone. And perhaps further down to your chest, you feel.

When Yuna is done, you can only feel that she's done. Because she has abruptly her lips placed onto your neck, right beside where she had just bitten you, and sucks the tender skin in her mouth. You gasp. Your head rolls back on its own without her hand having to do so. A sound might have left your mouth rather involuntarily but you can't tell. The world tilts and doesn't right itself back until Yuna detaches her lips from you, exhaling.

To answer your question prior to the moment, Yuna smiles. “You’ll stun the entire world if you wear anything that isn't as depressing as this.” With all the buttons undone, Yuna finally pulls your dress top apart to the sight of your nude torso; pleased by the lack of a corset hiding your modesty. “Also, it’s just tedious to take it off you.”

Not aware you've been breached and exposed until Yuna’s bold ministrations, you shriek. “My lady!”

“Oh, god.” Yuna groans. “We're already this far ahead. What are you still so embarrassed for?”

“It's just— you know this is improper.” You admit. “Bedding a servant as an aristocrat yourself will bring consequences if people were to find out. I just wish for my lady to not be affected by any incidents.”

“Aw, you're concerned.” Yuna tilts her head, appearing to be genuinely in love with your caution. Genuinely? In love? Impossible. “I appreciate it. But let's try to make things easier. No more thinking about rules, or society, or men.” You almost miss the chance her eyes darken, revealing her weakening control over herself to not just come down and devour you at the second. Something bubbles inside of you. Arousal. “Frankly speaking, fuck them all. It's just you and me right now, and no one will know what has occurred in this room if neither of us speak.”

“But…”

“And I am not kidding when I say I want you.” Yuna whispers as one last resort. “If they think I am wrong, then so be it. Let me be wrong. But you will never be a mistake I am unwilling to commit. To even call you a mistake is a mistake in itself.” Her head drops to collide her forehead with yours, eyes looking nowhere but you. “You are a blessing. So will you bless me or not?”

You want to say no. Something compels your body to act otherwise. “How do you want me to bless you?”

“That's easy.” Yuna’s hands find their placing on your thighs, keeping your legs apart as she comes closer to your crotch. “You just have to do two things: shut up, and kiss me.”

Not even a silent minute has passed after her words when in the end, you do exactly just that.

In a burst of random energy, you surge forward and connect your lips with hers together. The urges within you are finally being answered and it's outright liberating. You follow according to her words. Ignoring the pressing concerns of being right or wrong for once, forgetting about the customs of society and just letting yourself sink; you’re only aware of your lips melding with hers, teeth and tongue altogether in a mess of spittle and shared breaths breathed into each other’s mouths.

For that moment, you don't recall anything else except what is happening right at that second. Your status and dignities are thrown to the wind. Your hands scramble to find leverage on Yuna; it ends with your fingers knuckle deep in her hair, untangled before because of you but now tangled again because of you too.

Yuna pushes you down on the bed; keeps you pressed against the mattress as her weight overwhelms you. In between the heated kisses, her hushed voice speaks to you. “Pull my hair,” and you might've just done it in the middle of the frenzy because Yuna takes a sharp breath against your mouth. “Harder,” she says, and you obey with a firm tug until she interrupts the kiss with a breathy moan. “That's right, keep doing that.” You do.

When Yuna tilts her head to deepen the kiss further, you turn dizzy. Her hand crawls up from your thigh to cross your body in swift motions until she’s palming one of your breasts. It causes a gasp right out of you and she takes the opening chance to slide her tongue into your mouth, making you squirm left and right. She fondles your mound needlessly. You whimper as a result. Your eyes are shut even tighter once Yuna’s tongue begins exploring you deeper, tickling the back of your front teeth and twisting around your own flaccid tongue. It's hot. Humid. If only you didn't have to come up for air. You could do this forever.

After an eternity’s worth of cravings satisfied, Yuna finally pulls away and breaks the kiss to peer down at you. Her eyes flicker from the flush on your cheeks to your swollen lips, back up to your watering half-lidded eyes and your overall debauched expression. You've been defiled, and it's only just starting.

Yuna dives back down to your lips, but not for a kiss. She hovers just an inch away. Her whisper touches you.

“Good girl.”

A part of your body throbs upon hearing that. Your face might not show it, but your body is too honest. Yuna definitely must’ve felt it too. That's why she continues to press herself against where you're most sensitive, slowly grinding her hips as she leaves your lips to begin leaving litters of love bites along your jaw. She kisses, nibbles, bites and doesn't hesitate to suck as she moves lower onto your torso, blooming discolored spots in her trail.

Your low moans turn into quiet whines and whimpers, feeling her mouth at your shoulder before sliding to bite on your collarbone. Something overcomes you at some point and your body behaves out of your own control. She's kissing in between your breasts when your hips lift up to meet the solid form of her body, grinding for some sense of relief. You can't help it. The heat coils inside your pit and winds itself tighter and tighter, and something forms between your legs, leaking, soaking through the thin fabric of your knickers, damp.

It's obvious enough that Yuna hums, acknowledging your state. Arousal, pure and unfiltered. The feeling hikes up unprecedentedly when Yuna's hot mouth travels with spittle against your skin until she swallows one of your breasts, sucking without a warning given. It comes as a surprise. Your mind whites out, your body surfing with heat that you can't bear and your only way to release yourself is out of your mouth. “A-ah, what—! Hngh!”

Yuna flicks the nipple in her mouth with her tongue, rolling your other nipple with her thumb as her hand still has your mound in her grasp. Now your chest is being completely tended to by her, all of her pouring attention onto the pair of perked up buds that grow harder as your arousal rushes up in waves too. She's not as unaffected by it either; her hips are jerking forward to hit against you, repeated motions that act as if she's thrusting. Acting as if she had it with her, she would already be thrusting inside you at this point. The idea of it turns you on.

Dragging your eyes out of its unfocused state, you search and see for it yourself. Your lady, bare without an ounce of clothing for her, leaking with her own slick coating her inner thighs. A wet sight that gets you even wetter as a result. Your moans are unrestrained, calling for her as you wish to be satiated yourself.

And with how much Yuna is toying with your breasts, it's probably not that far off for you anyway. But it's also not enough. You need a harder push. Your chest is bruised and swollen and awfully tender, but it's not where your arousal peeks through. It's lower on your body. Somewhere deeper inside of you. Your mind is sluggish from the pleasure and craving that fights within you, so much so that you don't remember what your mouth mumbles.

Perhaps you were mumbling for more, or asking for something specific, or just calling for your lady with a pathetic tune to it. Whatever it is, it causes Yuna to let out a sound akin to a grunt when she lets your other hand roam to the middle of your legs, and before you know it, a rip reverbs in the room together with your gasps.

A tear in your black tights has been formed. Yuna acts with greed. She rips even more until your tights are no longer wearable and there's no other option than to just toss them away. That's what she does. Pulling your legs free from the stretching fabric, her first touch upon your bare skin at last is at a spot on your inner thighs that is inches too close to your throbbing pussy. She rubs circles softly, reveling in how your skin feels.

She's clearly teasing you. She can definitely feel how you tense up when her fingers slide just a little too close to your knickers. It's like you're anticipating. Waiting for her next move. Except her next move doesn't come. Frustration bubbles up inside of you upon knowing this and it causes more whines out of your lips, wrapping your arms around Yuna to pull her closer and get her to do what you're secretly wanting but not willing to say.

She bites and pinches both of your nipples as a response. Feigning displeasure, she drags her hand further away from your core, leaving you on edge when she doesn't act as you wish. You whine even more.

You breathe out heavily, too weak with desire to act upon it yourself. “My lady…please…”

Yuna ignores you. She continues to violate your chest until it really begins to hurt. Your head thrashes side to side in protest now. Just when you think you’re never possibly going to get what you want at this point, Yuna lets go of your chest and raises her head to look down at you feverishly, breathing unevenly as she keeps you pinned under her stare. Her cheeks appear just as flushed as yours when she asks you, “Do you want me?”

Without hesitation, you nod your head repeatedly until Yuna finally understands the desire residing within you. She does and caresses your cheek to stop you, asking another question. “Where do you want me?”

Grabbing her hand with both of yours, you hurriedly guide her fingers down to where your soaked knickers are still left on and urge her to peel them off you already. She doesn't seem willing to act until you say something outside of just noises and sounds though, much to your further adding on frustrations. “Here— touch me.”

Yuna knows where you’re referring to. She uses what she knows to her advantage. “Where, exactly?”

Wailing, your legs begin to tremble. “Here!”

Her eyes narrow. “Tell me properly, servant.” She spits out the last word with an awful bitterness to her tone. “Have you forgotten where your position lies?” So much authority laced in her voice; on most occasions, you don't mind. But in this second, forget about minding at all—you're a dripping mess. “Who are you to demand of me?” Yuna’s low whisper sends an electrifying current throughout your body, rendering you speechless.

When you still don't manage to say anything, Yuna snaps. “Say it, or you won't receive it.”

With all shame pushed out the window, you clutch onto her hand shakily and tearfully choke your words out. “My cunt— Your fingers— I want them— my cunt, please— I want your fingers in my cunt, please give it to me, please please please— I will be good, I’ll be so good if you just touch my cunt, please— ahh!”

In the midst of your pleas, Yuna had already acted and slid your knickers off you. She watched as you were squirming, the glistening sight of your pussy gushing with fluids caught by the illuminated glow of the candles giving her the faintest bit of vision. She had noted the pink flush of your sticky folds as well. Her pupils dilated. What more with the absolute desperation in your tone as you continue to beg her; her conscience was already slipping away by the time she had you cut off your own words with a moan as soon as she slipped two fingers inside you, two knuckles deep in before she begins pulling out to slip right inside you again. She goes fast.

Your wet—tight—entrance accepts her fingers greedily, feeling her rub against your velvet walls with the ease of your slick allowing her fluid movements. Everything inside of you stops. Your mouth is not yours to control anymore, soft ‘ah, ah, ah’s escaping every time she flicks her wrist back into your pussy until she's somehow three knuckles deep inside already. It's too much. It's not enough. The sounds of every thrust accompanied by the squelching caused by your own mess should be embarrassing to hear yet it gets you even more turned on.

Yuna is the same; if not worse. She angles herself in a way so that it seems she's fucking you with her hips in sync with her fingers. Her hips buck against you hurriedly, bringing her lips to suck a heavy hickey on your neck just to silence her moans. The phantom feeling of having a cock spurs her on to fuck you even harder, her fingers curling upwards and moving in a beckoning motion to stroke a hidden spot that drags you wide open.

Some point it leaves you arching your back, letting Yuna sink her fingers at a deeper position inside you. Yuna is still bent over your body to lick long stripes up and down your neck, but now she grabs your chin and kisses you hungrily. There's a sort of feral touch when she sucks harshly on your tongue. Her body moves to rub her chest against yours too; causing a sensation that has you both rolling your eyes back with a groan from the sensitivity of your nipples brushing together. It's a blissful touch that you find yourself craving for more of.

Your pussy aches with your legs trembling from the multitude of sensations overcoming you. Yuna's fingers are now met with her thumb rubbing circles against your clit, causing something akin to a scream coming out guttural from your throat. It's so much that you feel close to fainting, heaving as your voice cracks to cry.

“So much, so much, uhn— close, I’m close, please.” Your speech is nearly incoherent, but still somehow understood by Yuna. She leaves your collarbone with a plop sound after leaving yet another dark shade of red on your skin, taking the chance to finger you harder, faster. Your squeals are like music to her ears; the way they increase in frequency and pitch as your stomach hurts with an orgasm approaching. “More, more, nghh!”

“More? You’re absolutely soaking, darling.” Yuna has herself against your ear, tickling your senses with her breaths hitting you in waves of stimulation. “So greedy. Do you always need this much just to finish when you’re thinking about me in your chambers?” She smiles against your skin. “Your sweet little moans also kept me up.”

She knew about that too? Oh god— you don't even have the time to think about it when you feel the spring inside you tightening at its last point, ready to be unsprung with your core unleashed, just this one more wave hitting you until it's time to finally let it all out. It takes one unexpected twist of Yuna’s fingers that causes one dying moan leaving your lips, coming with an intense rush of your fluids spilling out of your heavily drenched pussy.

Yuna coaxes your orgasm out of you, giving just a couple more shallow thrusts until she pulls out her fingers completely, pruned. It doesn't hit you yet until you hear Yuna shushing you that your mouth is still letting out incoherent mumbles and whines as an aftermath of the blinding climax. She takes care of you by embracing you until you've come back down to your senses from your high, smoothing your hair and gently rubbing circles on your back. When your ears are functioning again, you hear her hushing words. “Good girl. So good for me.”

She feels incredibly warm. You inch closer to her until you hide your face in the crook between her neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent of her. Pears and freesia. It tethers you back to sanity.

Your thighs are sticky with your own release, but you don't care about it too much. “My lady?”

A glance of hers tells you that she's expecting you to say something. That she's listening. “Mhm?”

Instantly, your thoughts hail back to what she’s told you. About the nightly activities you do yourself, firmly assured that you were quiet enough so that she wouldn't hear you. What a mistake. It feels like a risk to ask, but you do it anyway instead of refraining yourself from the curiosity it brings. “Since when have you known?”

“Know about what?”

“About…that.” Heat crawls up your skin and into your head, boiling until you fear you might be turning into a fool. “You must definitely know what I'm referring to, my lady.” She's already made you shameless enough to admit that you want her fingers to touch you out loud, does she really have to do this too? “Please don't ask me to say it properly. I don't have thick enough skin to handle that.”

For a second, it appears Yuna truly doesn't have an idea on what you're talking about, until it hits her and you’re thankfully saved from having to say unsavory things yourself. “Ah, you mean whenever you're touching yourself at night and imagine that you were keeping it a well secret away from me? You underestimate my ears, dear.”

You hardly resist the urge to hide yourself further, almost combining your limbs with hers. She laughs lightly and just welcomes you closer to her warmth without doubt. “Still, how?” You ask.

“Let us just say it was one night when I woke up feeling a bit famished, but I didn't want to bother you awake. Because I assumed you were asleep, of course.” Her tone catches onto a teasing lilt; one that makes your heart beat unbearably quick from the suspense. “I passed by your bed chambers to head down to the kitchen, yet who would have thought that I would hear…” She catches the shell of your ear between her teeth, tugging once before letting go. “...My sweet little servant, chanting ‘my lady’ out loud several times in such an erotic manner.”

A noise of embarrassment comes out of you, muffled but still audible to an extent.

Drumming her fingers against your skin, Yuna continues with seeming nonchalance. “I thought it was rather cute. And a little scandalous, perhaps. To be part of your dreams and be the one that you moan and whine about, it’s quite flattering actually.” Her last whisper comes off differently compared to the rest, carrying a sense of appreciation and also a bit of disbelief. “I didn't think someone would find me attractive enough to do that.”

“Aren't there plenty of men who dance with you at those balls?” You retort. As if you didn't wish you had a hand to dance with her as well. “Surely they have also mentioned about your beauty in front of your face before. Is that not considered attraction?”

“They only spit out empty words. They don't mean anything.” Yuna’s voice vibrates against you. “And besides, finding someone attractive and being genuinely attracted to that someone are two different things.”

Lost is the state of your current mind as you're swayed by the calm of your lady’s voice. It relaxes you, more than the orgasm ever did despite being absolutely heavenly, and at some point your guards are lowered. “Are all the words you tell me not the same as theirs, too?” The question slips out of you without restraint; a physical manifestation of your inner thoughts. Oh no. You didn't mean to say that.

Before you could correct yourself, Yuna shushes you and breathes out a soft laugh, unoffended. “In comparison, mine are genuine. And so is my desire in having you.” Like she's able to read your mind, she also adds. “Or was it not obvious? Do I still need to show you a bit more to convince you?”

You blurt out again without thinking. “I just think that if you are serious, I would've noticed something too.”

“Well. It is not my fault that I can keep my own nightly activities a little quieter than you.” Yuna keeps you still while you're squirming to fight back. She continues, “Would you believe me if I told you that I also started indulging myself because of you? Every time I heard you at night, it was like a command that I couldn't escape myself from.” She sighs, as if beginning to relive all those intimate moments herself. “Before long, I ended up touching myself with your cries…”

You gasp upon the revelation, but Yuna isn't done yet. “I kept going, going, until I reached a point where I didn't need to do anymore. It was a pinnacle. An enlightenment. I even timed myself to match with yours.”

A sudden sigh comes out of Yuna in the end. A glorious, captivating sound. You glance in between where your bodies are interlinked and notice her legs, clamped shut but shifting against one another. It brings to your attention that your lady is being affected by her own words. By her own recounts of the nights you’ve just found out that you weren't at all alone while searching for gratification. Lady Yuna has been just as sinful as you are.

For some reason, that excites you. After ages of feeling disgust for yourself, you find out that it's not so weird after all. Your countless yearning and devotion towards her might really be reciprocated. Something might even arise from this moment, where you are both in your barest forms and releasing everything you have for one another. It really isn't so one-sided as you think.

Lady Yuna is not lying when she wants someone; when she wants you. She would never lie. You trust her.

“You haven't relieved yourself yet.” With dazed eyes, you’re lifting your head to look up at her. A sparkle glimmers in your irises; determination, almost. “May I help you?”

Yuna plays with your hair in between your fingers, looking at you with a smile. It's with fondness that she meets your aspiration with. “There is no rush. Let yourself rest first.” She presses a kiss at your ear, now biting the lobe with a playful touch to it. “We have a very long night to get ourselves reacquainted with each other, after all.”

“Right.” You don't miss what her words imply. In fact, it emboldens you. You don't want to wait. You want to act on her. Now. “But can I do something? To you?”

There's a spark of intrigue that appears on Yuna’s face by your sudden secrecy. She even seems excited by the way she doesn't reject your advances and instead ushers you closer; her legs willingly separated to let your knee slide in between. “As you wish.” She breathes out, capturing her bottom lip in her teeth. “How would you like me?”

She gives you free reign to do the things you’ve dreamed of doing before. It brings out a sense of surrealness to you. Blinking a few times to wake yourself out of your stupor, you exhale through your mouth, flip through the possibilities you could attend to, and at last, you simply decide to bring yourself nearer.

“I will figure that part out later,” you inform her, before fluttering your eyes closed as you envelop her lips with yours once more.

At ease, Yuna allows you to direct her, following alongside your movements as she kisses you back. The first kiss was a mess, hot and desperate without sense or mind to keep it controlled. But this current kiss before you now is calm and composed, with meaning behind every push and pull. It’s not a fight for anyone’s lives. It’s simply a dance between two souls, willing to be intertwined. Almost romantic in a sense. With love, surrounding both of you, keeping you aware and not at the same time.

The softness in the way you treat Yuna happens to move her; both metaphorical and literal in the sense. When you begin to push her down onto the mattress, she doesn’t do anything but comply. The kiss continues to be amorous, even in how Yuna glides her hands up to tug at your dress top, being gentle but firm in pulling it off you. Your arms are freed from the fabric constraints, so is your back exposed to the air, and you’re both still interlocked with your lips becoming a little bolder now. Not harsh, but maybe more confident. A bit dangerous.

Yuna emits a soft sigh when your lips encase around her bottom lip completely, lightly nibbling on the plump flesh. The kiss tastes fresh like strawberries. You might be addicted to it. Your fingers are lost somewhere in her hair and your arm is around her waist. Her legs are placed idly side by side, space in between where your knee stays. Your knee drags closer. There’s an abrupt sound stifled in Yuna’s mouth when your knee reaches her.

Slowly, you begin to grind against the wet folds. Yuna doesn’t stop you. She encourages you, even. Her hips respond back in earnest with grinds of her own; rising upwards and down in repeating motions against your thigh. It starts off steady. Yuna’s kisses become interrupted with faint gasps when she finds her clit stimulated. She grinds against you more. You meet her eagerness in the same manner, pushing your thigh forwards more with a harder force to it. She moans.

“You’re so good at this.” Yuna praises the minute you both part for air, right before you both come back for another kiss. It’s short and not gratifying enough. Neither of you complain. Your lady pants against your open mouth after the end of that kiss. “Do you feel me?” She asks, pushing her further against you until her wetness coats your skin in slick moisture. “You can feel me down there, can’t you? How awfully dirty I am, ah—”

Before another word, you seal her mouth shut once more with a kiss. “You’re not dirty at all.” The murmur comes out of you alongside your breath that tickles her. You’re rocking against her now, still slow but gradually picking up the pace just to see her face contort in variations of expressions showing her pleasure. “You’re never dirty, my lady. Even if you are— you’re still perfect.” Your heart pounds against your chest now, feeling fulfilled in Yuna’s eyes looking at you half-opened; her mouth agape to let out the most pleasant moans you’ve heard. She says nothing after a while, head lolling back against the fluffed pillow. Her arousal is even more evident now.

“Oh please, ahn— do you still have more nice things to say about me?” Yuna says with a breathless laugh. She’s rutting against you even harder. The friction drives her closer to ecstasy. It doesn’t stop her from cupping your cheek, looking at you past her eyelids with mirth and warmth. A small smile spreads on her lips, in between her hurried gasps and moans. “Tell me. Tell me more. I want to hear you talk until I…” She doesn’t finish.

To her request, you heed without fault. “My lady— is the most divine lady I know.” She breathes out a sigh when you’re overcome by desire to latch your lips onto her throat; you do it and lightly suck a mark of your own for the first time. It’s small enough to be mistaken for a mosquito bite, but that doesn’t change the circumstances. You’ve defiled your lady yourself, and you’re brimmed with pride to be the first. A larger feeling erupts from your chest and you’re consumed by it to continue your journey downwards, kissing with delicate bites onto more of her torso. You tell her more things at the same time. “I admire my lady’s spirit. Very much.”

“How much, exactly?”

“A lot.”

“Oh—” Yuna feels a shot of arousal right into her veins at that point. Her back arches the same moment you’re placing kisses under her breasts, following along the middle line of her abdomen until your mouth is placed below her navel where you stop. Her core pulses. She’s twitching. Her sighs and moans have become intermingled into a mess where she mumbles things both coherent and not, yet you hear her clear. “Don’t stop.”

You didn’t plan to. Not even when your thigh parts from her and she whines in protest at the loss. Instead, you replace it with dragging your mouth over to where your thigh was rubbing just right before, and breathe out a hot puff of air against it. Yuna tenses. The sensitivity hits her all at once.

“My lady,” you nose through the bush of unshaven hairs above her clit, an undescribed scent inhaled. Your tongue darts out to wet your lip, tempted beyond belief. “May I?”

Not even a verbal reply. What you get is Yuna spreading her legs even wider apart, her hand coming down to grab the crown of your head before pushing you down to her pussy without distance left.

She moans immediately, her hips moving before you even gather a chance to recollect yourself first. She rides your face carelessly, achieving some semblance of friction by having something rubbing her clitoris. No reasoning is behind her actions; she’s simply just desperate. And as her servant, of course you must serve her well. Taking both her thighs in your grasp, you steady yourself before opening your mouth, welcoming the onslaught of flavor bursting on your tongue.

Heaven. She tastes like heaven. You’re moaning too before you could even hold yourself back.

Your nose teases her clit while your broad tongue laps in between her folds. You’re taking steady strokes to see how she would react, testing and experimenting on what you can do to make her feel good. She seems to take all of it well, so you alternate between the few motions you’ve done with your tongue. Up to down, down to up, circling around her entrance, occasionally slipping in for a shallow thrust. When your tongue grows tired, you switch it up for what else your mouth can do: suck on her, mouthing her, mumbling nonsense to send up vibrations inside her that only makes her more wet. Drinking her up is the easiest and most pleasing part.

With your head in between her legs, you don’t notice the moment when Yuna half-heartedly pushes herself up the bed. She’s partially propped up, her forearms flat against the mattress on both of her sides to support her weight. Her eyes peer down at you, watching you keenly. Her shallow breaths pick up with airy groans as she feels you licking for more, an air of desperation to you with how you yearn for her taste. To taste more of her and the ambrosia of her haven. She shivers upon feeling you slurp a drop of her arousal the moment it leaks through.

A part of her wants to guide you to her pleasures until she comes undone. The larger part of her wishes to simply be an audience and watch you work your work to please her enough. She doesn’t complain at all when she feels you pulling her closer, your actions picking up as you maneuver her to grind against you again.

Yuna finds it oddly endearing for some reason. Her head tilts in mirth. “Are you hoping for me to use you as I please, darling?” She moves her own hips much to your surprise and inner excitement. “Keep going. I’m close.”

You don’t dare to deny her. Your hot tongue protrudes to flex inside her pussy, curling to pull out her cries.

“Ah, yes…! You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? Fucking with your tongue like that, mhm.” Yuna speaks with frenzy the more you take her apart, causing her head to throw back. She rolls her hips over your face without rhythm or end, leaving your face to be drenched without care. “Are you hungry? Go on, take more of me…”

She moans again when your mouth situates itself onto her clit completely, focusing on teasing it entirely while your nose is back to being lost within her hairs. You sigh, shooting up a straight shot of euphoria in Yuna, to which she responds with much quicker rutting against your face. She downright fucks herself onto your mouth and tongue, reacting with even more fervor and grunts beneath her heaving breaths. Her mouth also becomes increasingly filthy as well, saying things that drive you to do more. “Do you like eating me out? Does my cunt taste good? Don’t stop, oh fuck, don’t stop at all. Good girl, I’ll reward you after this. Just— keep— going—!”

It’s hard to restrain yourself. Your tongue moves back to thrusting, becoming all the more persistent. Fucking her tight hole, sucking on her pussy, nosing her clit; you were deprived before this, and now you indulge in it all so much. You can’t stop yourself when your hand directs itself in between your own legs—your long skirt is still left on much to your annoyance, a groan you let out to express yourself but also manages to conveniently hit Yuna in the right spots—to finger your aching pussy too, feeling yourself getting wet again. It’s so good. Just by knowing how well you’re pleasing your lady, it makes you enticed beyond recognition. You want to do this more. You want her even more.

“Sweetheart, say something for me?” Yuna suddenly asks. “I want to hear your voice before I come.”

“Mhm?” Your mouth is too occupied to reply. You don’t want to let go of her anytime soon. Her taste is much too divine for you to not finish consuming first. There’s a tremor in her legs caused by your unstopping actions.

Yuna grips your hair harshly once she sees you don’t comply. Her authority rises back up. “I never said you could disobey. This is a demand, servant.” It’s difficult to suppress your whimper when she pulls once, a dull ache resounding in your scalp at once. That ache translates to pleasure right into you. You might just come because of it alone, but then Yuna just has to harden her voice. And that does it for you. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Without thinking further, you say the first thing in your fogged mind. “Give it to me. Please, my lady,” your throat burns with a thirst left unquenched. “I want to taste you. More. All of it. Everything. Every drop.”

The words you say are left as mumbles that Yuna almost couldn’t hear.

One last jolt and Yuna comes as a result, still using your face to keep grinding against until all waves of her orgasm are pushed out. You couldn’t dream of ever complaining about it; she gushes and you take her in, refusing to let your mouth detach unless you’ve managed to drink it all up. Your throat bobs with every swallow you do. It’s one after another until there’s nothing left. Your lady is pleased. Your hunger satiated. Your pussy throbbing harder than ever even after a possibly dry climax pushed out of you whilst you were busy drinking.

You need a release again. So bad. Departing from Yuna with your chin still covered in her mess, you’re overcome with a weakness too much for you to fight against. Your head rests against her thigh, your eyes blink unevenly.

“Are you alright?” Yuna’s voice breaks through the fog shrouding your head. It’s accompanied by her hand caressing your head, comforting the spot on your scalp she’s just pulled on. Her gentleness is hypnotizing as much as her authoritative stance. “Shall I help put you to rest now, my dear?” Her sweet care makes you cry.

Shaking your head, you mumble. “No. Need more.” Your legs are clamped together as you shift uncoordinatedly to satisfy yourself now. “I feel hot again. Need relief…please.”

But it’s alright if she says no. Though you’d be disappointed, you mustn't be greedy. She’s already helped you.

Yet that’s not what she says at all, and it gets you twitching again. “My poor darling, you still need more?” Yuna teases. She takes your head and pulls you to lay against her stomach, looking at her amused yet lovely eyes. Her gaze rakes up the state of your body once before her brow raises in interest. “Oh my, I can see you’ve gotten yourself wet again. Did I truly taste that good for you?”

You nod. Or maybe you did. You can’t tell. It doesn’t matter. Yuna already knows what you want.

A few stray hairs get tucked behind your ear by her mellow fingers. She seems prepared to take you, yet she still wants to take her own sweet time before breaking you apart. “Have you not noticed how you've soiled your own skirt already?” Now that she mentions it, there really is a damp patch of fabric that ceaselessly clings to you. “What a mess you've left. You know you have to wash everything after this. Will you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, being put into your place again, “I will.”

“Why are you smiling?” You haven't noticed your own lips curling up until Yuna says it for you. Your own face feels so hot that you're numb to any muscles reacting beyond your will. Maybe you really are smiling. Maybe not. Maybe she's just playing with you, and you just like it a lot. “Are you really that happy being a servant?

“Of course I am.” A giggle slips out before you know it. “Because I am serving a lady. I am serving you.”

“And it makes you happy that you have to do chores and other simple things because I don't want to?” Yuna prods through your mind more and more, not resisting when your wants take over your reasoning. You're left crawling to climb on top of her, plopping down to stick your tongue out and lick at her neck. The salt of her skin silences your objections. Humping her without her stopping you encourages your desires.

You’re heavily panting before giving a reply. “As long as my lady is happy, I will be happy too.” You're giggling again before you're getting flipped down onto the bed with a strength that renders you weak. “Ah—”

“If only you knew how hard it is to resist you when you are like this.” Yuna finally gets rid of your dress skirt and throws it aside. “You're so cute. I want to keep you forever. I will keep you forever.” Some kind of possessiveness shows up in her tone. The inner possessiveness she’s held towards you is what she finally lets you hear. “I will.”

She doesn't hesitate to spread your legs in order to match with hers, placing her right leg on top of your left leg and her left underneath your right. This position doesn't make much sense to your confused mind; it doesn't until Yuna connects her middle with yours and brushes in an upwards stroke once that you feel an overwhelming bliss overcome you the same time it does for her. Twin moans erupt. They keep going the more Yuna proceeds to rub her pussy over your cunt, enabling a friction you've only felt with yourself on a pillow.

But this friction is just better than how it is with a pillow. It's warm from both sides, erratic pulses against each other and finding their way through the linked bodies to surge up in waves of euphoria blinding you both completely. It doesn't take much until you're grinding back too, going down when Yuna rides upward and vice versa. Your sensitive clits being stimulated beyond comprehension, the mess of your hairs tickling so much, the wet glides of your folds as your arousal peaks at indescribable lengths. This must be heaven.

It makes sense to you now. It’s only with sin that can make you feel heaven. Yuna is an angel with devil’s wings. You want this so much more. You even cry out about how you want it more and Yuna answers you physically.

She rolls her hips with more fervor, static in her mind as her pussy drips a mess onto yours. One second she's breathing heavily, in the next she's mewling, and in another she's groaning without a care about how she sounds. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.” She calls for you. “I want to hear how much you're enjoying this. Tell me. Talk to me.” Her hand finds yours in the midst of the bliss to intertwine your fingers together, holding you tightly.

Your heart pinched at the sweet gesture. “It's heavenly.” You tell her, trying to keep up with the speed of her hips as much as you can. “May I ask for a kiss, my lad— mfmph!”

This kiss is messy and doesn't wait for you to finish your words. It's urgent, incessant, but so perfect alongside your hands kept together beside your head. You hold Yuna by her nape. She slides her own grasp along the curve of your ass, gripping you there. She uses that as leverage to lift your hips as she rests on her knees, rutting even harder than ever. You might've just screamed into her mouth.

“Easy, easy. You're fine.” Yuna consoles you, talking against your bitten lips. “You're doing wonderful. You can feel how wet I am getting, too? It's because of you. It's always—” A grunt interrupts her. “—Because of you.”

“Nnhnn—” You can't think of a proper word left to say. She doesn't expect you to. Her eyes are trained on your face, remembering all of your expressions to be kept in the back of her mind. Maybe you had noticed the softness her eyes melt with, a feeling along with her gaze. Infatuation is probably what it is. You can't tell.

For long enough it goes on until you're sure you can feel a rising release building up inside of you again. This time it's large. It's already spilling before you can feel it just yet. The more your fluids drip through the more your folds are stuck against each other, gliding until the friction that was just there before is almost nonexistent against the slippery surfaces left. But it's coming. You're close. Overwhelmingly so. Is Yuna the same too? Does she know that you're not going to last much longer if she keeps this up, and will she mind if you finish first?

She doesn't. “Let go of yourself, darling.” The tingles of her voice still don't manage to not get you twitching hard. “I’ll come right after you. Go ahead.”

But even with her word of permission, something doesn’t feel right. Feebly, you shake your head. “Together, hm…”

Yuna appears briefly bewildered, smiling as she feels herself crumbling apart. “You want to finish together?”

Words are still foreign to you at this point, so you nod your head to convey your point. “Mm.” Like it's not enough, you look at her with a plea shining bright and clear in your eyes. Please.

Yuna wilts. She hardly resists to call you again. “Good girl.”

With both of your sensitive pussies aching, burning, twitching for release, it's fair enough to assume that Yuna isn't so far behind you in the first place. You're just overwhelmed by a need to have this moment together, a physical connection where you're both undone and tired and just breathing against each other, more intimate than all the dreams you've held deep within your conscience. It's hard to hold yourself back but just for the sake of it, you do. Your stomach flips upon being withheld, clenching harshly with tears brimming your eyes.

Yuna notices and wipes them away. Soft, as she plants kisses against your closed eyelids. “Just a bit more, mhm?”

Then she's increasing her speed until you fail to catch up, going on and on until she kneels over you with a harsh gasp against your ear, and that does it at last. You're both coming for the second time with your spend spreading in between your joined legs, smearing against your folds and trickling down your thighs and even ending up on the bed sheets. It's a soaking, drenched mess that neither of you could bother caring about as the waves of bliss stretch over and leave you both in a whimsy daze. The pleasure is unimaginably above every dream you could ever have.

Your moans eventually end in your throat as every drop of your come is let out. Your hips come to a standstill as well as Yuna’s, and all that's left is your erratic breathing occupying the quietness of the room. It's not long until she slumps over you. She does nothing, seemingly losing strength as her weight befalls completely on you.

Seeing her in an unmoving state, you slowly regain your voice to speak up. “Are you tired, my lady?”

Nothing is said. You assume she's likely asleep at first. Then she stirs and breathes comfortably, shifting you both onto your sides with a bit of your own aid as she's too lethargic to do it properly. The mess underneath you is uncared for. Your hand darts out blindly to gain leverage on a blanket before you're draping it over her—she, in return, lazily gets you under the covers as well. “Stay here with me. A little more. Or maybe until tomorrow.”

You comply. How could you not? Growing used to her warmth, you don't hesitate to take her into your arms like you would before. Yuna answers by also wrapping her grip on your waist, and you both stay in each other’s embrace as a result, attentive to one another’s breathing as it slows to a rhythmic pattern again.

In sync, your hearts are aligned. This is everything more than you could've ever imagined.

Yuna calls your name, then. Something pops up in her head. You give her a hum back. You don't mind whatever she has left for you. And you find that she later speaks up with a faint strain to her usually perfect voice; the side effect of all those moans she wasn't able to contain. Pride blooms inside you for being the cause of that.

“May I ask you something?”

“Of course, my lady.”

“Promise me first that you won't find it so outlandish of a request, though?”

Well. It's not like you haven't handled certain wishes that your lady has had you do before. With this moment you’re in being one of them as well. You attempt to shrug, but opt for an assuring squeeze when you find your arms incapable of doing much. “I promise.”

You hear Yuna take a breath. And then; “how do you feel about becoming the next lady of the house with me?”

What.

You almost fall off the bed right there. When you find out yourself that you can't actually do that, you exclaim your thoughts out loud instead. “What!?” Your ears must be broken, otherwise; “that's outlandish—!”

“You promised!” Yuna reminds you of her prior request and brings her lips down to a pout for added emphasis.

That takes you down effectively. Stopping yourself from your need to shout about why that is not a good idea at all, you instead reprimand her. Lightly. Because you definitely have the right to do that. Because she's literally asking for this from you, in the same bed, naked, and spent. It comes to your attention, also, that she's not only asking, but she's asking about marriage after having sex. Who talks about marriage right after sex…? Does she think this is just a fling she can switch into something else? No!

But also, maybe she isn't. You're not too sure. So you have to confirm it first. “Are you asking for marriage?”

Yuna blinks at you coquettishly, batting her eyelashes with an audacity she's always had despite whatever. “Yes.”

It is what she’s asking for! You look back at her in horror. “No.”

“Why not?” Yuna whines. Now she acts like the aristocrat she is; an obscenely spoiled maiden who’s unused to not having the things she desires. “We’ve just finished fucking, it turns out you like me and it turns out I like you too. And I don't want to have a man in my house; I'm extremely sure of that. So why won't you take my hand?”

“Because your wants are impossible, my lady.” You reason. “I— you know this yourself, don't you? You are a noble, I am not. I am a commoner and the most I am allowed is to be a noble’s servant. That is what I am.” You finish, a sad look lingering in your eyes. “I never meant for us to end up like this either. We just got…” Now your heart hurts. The dream-like escapade breaks and reality crashes on you like rainfall. “...Carried away. That is it.”

“That is not it.” Yuna rejects. “You say you’re aware of our statuses, so you truly dare to not accept my feelings?”

You huff. This is feeling a little ridiculous now. “My lady, you cannot just exert your authority and take it away as you please. Your position and name are just too very important. How could you possibly let me defile it?”

“What if I told you that I no longer care about such things?”

“Then I will not allow you to.” Your resolve officially harderns. Taking Yuna’s hand into yours, you firmly put an end to this thought once and for all—even if it hurts you as a result. “Have you ever thought about what society will say in regards to you? They will throw your name and tarnish you like you are no better than rubbish. I don't have the heart to let that happen to you. As much as my heart is already yours to begin with.”

By the time you're done with your speech, your hand is squeezing Yuna’s much too hard already. It's the reluctance to let go. As much as you want her to be safe, it doesn't mean you're indifferent to the facts. You're at ease when it comes to serving her; perhaps it was in your blood to be serving only for her.

Yet of course, you wonder as well. If only you weren't a commoner. If only there weren't these societal roles and barriers to get in the way of everything. This special moment is exactly what it is; special, and you will cherish it as much as you appreciate having a chance with your beloved lady. But nothing will come out of it even if you know that Yuna’s infatuation is the same for you. What a shame it is. Your heart aches terribly now.

It's not even registered in your mind that you're crying until Yuna kisses you, letting your mind focus on the softness of her plump lips as she coaxes you to a calmer state. No part of you could ever resist this touch even if it's given to you countlessly. You could never be sick of it. It's both terrifying and relieving at the same time.

Yuna pulls from you slowly, whispering with a look in her eyes. “Why do you always hurt yourself for my sake?”

With reddening eyes, you still manage to smile. “Has it not been obvious enough yet?” Your voice wobbles, sobs in the way of your speech. “It is because I love you. I care for you. I would serve you until my end if I could.”

“And you think by refusing me your hand in marriage, this is the way love works?” Yuna doesn't let you pull your hand away in protest. She grips you in earnest with a fire she doesn't extinguish. “Do you know how I envision love? I envision it as you and me, side by side like this. I would wake up to see your face. We sit down, have breakfast after we've just finished a bath together. Our days would be spent with you weaving flowers in my hair and me singing the poems and songs I’ve written for you. Everything I do would be just for you.”

“My lady…” You trail off, speechless. That’s what your papers are for? Your ink pot grows empty for me…?

“Is it really love, for planning to take away what I want too?” She surges forwards to connect your foreheads together, refusing to let your eyes dart away from hers. Your eyes can never leave her. “I don’t want to find myself wedded to a man, where I wake up one night fully aware that I mean nothing to him other than being his wife. I will not have him the way I have you, holding you close to me like I cannot live or breathe without you near me.”

Your heart pounds loudly now. You know what your heart wants to say. Your mouth doesn't cooperate by remaining agape, not a sentence able to be formed.

Yuna doesn't mind. She only continues on with her speech, emotions pouring into every word she says. “Will it sit right with you to know that there would be nights I would think of you and wonder what it would be like if it was you instead? Do you really think that is the life I want?”

Your throat runs dry. “But the aristocracy—”

“Fuck the aristocracy.” Yuna cuts you off. “They have never been nice to me. Another season more and I will soon be titled as a spinster already by their regards. It is not worth risking my happiness just for their pleasure.”

“Why?” Your strength leaves you as much as your resolve. You're left asking; perhaps this is the final thing to convince you once and for all. You want to be convinced. “Why do you wish to go to such extreme lengths? I will not be able to give you riches or host balls. It is already enough that you are not into men. But a servant?”

“You are not a servant. You…” She suddenly presses a kiss to your nose, muttering. “...Are my most special someone.”

You truly have nothing left to say now. “But— I— You— My lady!”

“And you will have no need to address me with such formality from now on.” Yuna smiles against your skin. It sort of tickles. Or maybe it's just your heart tickling inside of you instead. “Call me by my name, please.”

“I…” You trail off, unsure what else is left. You're only left to hopelessly stare into thin air, in disbelief that this is happening. That this is your reality now. A reality in your favor. A reality with her. The more you think about it, the more you understand. Your heart that yearns for her wants to not only protect her, but also solely love her. And your heart, most of all, wants to receive her love for you as well. It makes sense. She doesn’t want a future with society if you aren’t a part of it. She doesn’t want to hear you say anything except yes.

So you can’t say no. Your conscience won’t let you either. What else can’t you say? What else can you say at this point? “I love you.” Perhaps that is all you can say after all. “I love you so much, I— oh gods, I do want this.”

Yuna sees your happiness peeking through. The happiness you keep denying yourself from. Her heart melts with nothing but fondness left. “Does that mean you will finally say yes to my hand in marriage then?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” You laugh, tears in your eyes again. “I love you, my lady. My love. My everything. My—” You gasp upon the realization. “—Wife?”

Can you really call her that now?

“Well.” Yuna laughs at your shock. She finds yet another thing to be infatuated about you. “It should be fiancée first, but…” She pecks the corner of your lips. “I'm too in love with you to refrain myself from that title too.”

You grin, so wide until your cheeks hurt. For the first time, you find yourself acting without your servant manners in mind. Nudging her, you smile half sheepishly and half expectantly. “Wife.”

“Mhm.” Yuna nods. “I am your wife.” She hardly refrains herself from kissing you again. “You are also my wife.”

“I am.” Your smile doesn’t falter. “I think I really love you.”

“So do I.”

Beginning with the next morning, you will never wake up as a servant ever again; only as a lady’s special lover.

Yuna closes her eyes, taking your hand to leave a kiss on your palm. She doesn’t let go of you, and she never will from now on. “I love you even more than what the world could possibly say.”