Lilith shifted from foot to foot outside the door, unable to stay still.
He would come out soon.
He always did.
And every time he had even a moment to himself—
he spent it searching for Egor.
And failing.
The boy was hiding well.
Klaus would never guess what his servant was doing.
And Lilith would never tell him.
Things were better like this.
Better when his attention wasn't elsewhere.
The door opened.
Klaus nearly walked straight into her.
He stopped—
looked—
understood.
A long dress.
Carefully chosen.
Not vulgar.
Worse.
Deliberate.
The neckline drew the eye without asking. The cut tightened around her waist, the pale pistachio fabric sharpening the contrast of her skin. Her hair was pinned high—
neck exposed—
and the thin thread resting against it.
The button.
Wrong.
Out of place.
But not enough to ruin the effect.
"You look nice," Klaus said, already stepping past her.
She caught his hand.
"My lord…"
"What is it?" he asked, impatience already creeping in. "Do you need something?"
"No… I—yes…"
She hesitated.
"My lord. Today is my birthday."
Klaus paused.
"…You never told me the date."
"I didn't know it," she said quickly. "So I chose one."
A beat.
"And you promised… one request."
"I did," Klaus said. "But not now."
"My lord, I must insist."
Her grip tightened.
"Everything is ready."
That stopped him.
"…Ready?"
She didn't answer.
Just pulled.
Klaus exhaled slowly.
Then followed.
—
They passed the main hall.
Didn't stop.
Deeper.
Quieter.
Until—
a door.
Not a curtain.
A real door.
Klaus frowned.
"My lord… please," she said softly.
A pause.
"I've been learning. For you."
Something shifted.
A warning.
He opened the door.
—
Low light.
Warm.
Too warm.
A bed.
Too large.
Too soft.
Cushions scattered everywhere.
And the smell—
sweet.
Thick.
Clinging.
Something burned in the corner.
Klaus's eyes narrowed.
"Sit," Lilith said, pointing to the cushions.
He hesitated.
Then lowered himself.
"What exactly are you—"
"My lord," she cut in quickly, moving behind him, "may I remove your shirt?"
He started to stand—
Hands pressed down on his shoulders.
Too fast.
Too desperate.
"My lord, forgive me—I didn't mean to offend—it's just… massage works better on bare skin."
Klaus blinked.
Then exhaled.
"A massage?"
Relief flooded her voice.
"Yes. I practiced. A lot."
A pause.
"I want you to be the first."
That made him smirk—
briefly.
Then fade.
"Fine."
He pulled his shirt off.
Let it fall.
Allowed himself—
just for a moment—
to stop thinking.
—
Her hands were unsure.
Light.
Careful.
"You're tense," she whispered. "I might not be enough…"
A pause.
"May I bring someone to help?"
"I'm granting your request," Klaus said, voice already dulling slightly. "Do what you want."
That—
was wrong.
He knew it.
But the thought slipped.
Didn't hold.
Didn't anchor.
The tension in his body—
unraveling.
Too quickly.
His thoughts—
sliding.
Breaking apart.
Too quiet.
Too easy.
Something was wrong.
He knew that.
He should—
focus.
Stop.
Stand—
Lilith stepped away.
Someone else replaced her.
Hands.
Large.
Firm.
Certain.
Klaus's breath hitched as pressure drove deep into his back.
"…Better," he muttered.
Too good.
Far too good.
His body reacted before his mind could catch up.
Muscles loosened.
Spine relaxed.
Everything—
softening.
No.
No, that wasn't—
He needed to—
The hands stopped.
Klaus let out a low, irritated sound without thinking.
Eyes opening.
Head tilting back.
A face above him.
Young.
Attractive.
Light hair.
Soft.
Unfamiliar—
and yet—
He looks like Egor.
The thought slipped in—
and stayed.
Warm.
Wrong.
Lilith helped him up.
Led him to the bed.
The boy settled behind him again.
Hands returning.
Stronger.
More precise.
Lilith moved lower.
Boots gone.
Fingers pressing into his feet.
Klaus leaned back.
Further.
Then fully.
Head resting in the boy's lap.
"You know," he murmured lazily, staring up, "you're hard."
The boy inhaled sharply.
"My lord… you make it difficult not to be."
Klaus smiled faintly.
"I can see why."
And then—
it hit.
Desire.
Slow.
Heavy.
Spreading through his body like heat under the skin.
Not sharp.
Not violent.
Worse.
Deep.
Persistent.
Klaus pushed himself up slightly.
Looked down.
Lilith's hands at his trousers.
"What are you doing?" he asked, the fog thinning for a second.
"A massage," she said, completely serious. "You're still tense."
He stared at her.
Trying to think.
Trying to—
"Come here," he said quickly. "My temples."
She obeyed instantly.
His head in her lap now.
Safer.
Further.
Away.
He needed distance.
Because he wasn't sure—
he could stop this.
The boy's hands moved along his legs.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Again.
Each time stopping just short.
The third time, Klaus made a low, frustrated sound.
The boy smiled.
Slid back down.
"I'm not good enough yet," Lilith whispered.
"No," Klaus said. "You are."
A pause.
"You'll improve."
"My lord…" her voice trembled. "You won't give me your mark."
Klaus stilled.
"But I understand," she rushed. "Still… it hurts. Egor has it. I don't."
A breath.
"So please…"
She swallowed.
"Use me."
No confusion.
No innocence.
Klaus looked at her.
Properly.
"Lilith…"
His voice was quieter now.
"I don't need that from you."
"I'm not enough?" Panic. Immediate. Raw.
He almost laughed.
You both are.
Too much.
"You are," he said instead. "But I won't take it from you like this."
A pause.
"You're free."
Another.
"Choose someone you actually want."
"I choose you."
Instant.
Desperate.
"I don't want to be useless."
"You're not."
He reached up.
"Come here."
She leaned down.
Shaking.
He kissed her.
Light.
Then again.
Then deeper.
She responded—
uncertain—
real.
He pulled away slowly.
Her breathing uneven.
Eyes locked on him.
"I know what comes next," she whispered. "I learned—"
Klaus shut his eyes.
Forced himself back.
"Your request is fulfilled."
A pause.
"And the button I gave you—that's worth more than any mark."
Another.
"If you still want this later—then we talk."
Not now.
Because now—
he wanted it.
Too much.
"Go," he said.
"My lord—"
"Go."
Because if she didn't—
he wouldn't stop.
—
The door closed.
Silence.
Klaus turned his head.
Slow.
The pressure in his body unbearable.
"You need an invitation?" he growled.
The boy smiled.
"I've been waiting."
—
Moments later—
breath uneven.
Hands clenched.
Control—
gone.
Slipping.
Too far.
Too fast.
—
The door opened.
Klaus lifted himself slightly—
irritation flaring—
August stood there.
Of course.
"I see the incense worked," he said calmly, taking everything in.
"You don't knock?" Klaus snapped.
"I knew you were here."
He stepped inside.
Slow.
Watching.
Measuring.
Sat beside him.
"Bad timing," Klaus muttered.
Neither of them looked away.
The boy didn't stop.
"On the contrary," August said quietly. "Perfect timing."
Klaus dropped back.
Teeth clenched.
"Leave."
"Does it feel good?" August murmured, leaning closer.
"…Yes."
"And if I don't want to leave?"
Klaus turned his head.
Met his eyes.
And leaned in.
Their lips met—
hard—
at the exact moment the tension snapped.
A sharp breath.
A broken sound.
Wrong.
Everything about this was wrong.
And yet—
August didn't pull away.
Didn't hesitate.
He deepened it.
Then pulled back slightly.
"That's enough," he said. "Out."
The boy left.
Reluctantly.
August moved immediately.
Closer.
Hands already there.
No hesitation.
No pause.
Klaus responded—
instinctively.
Too fast.
Too rough.
Clothes gone.
Skin.
Heat.
No control.
No distance.
They collided—
not gently—
not carefully—
grabbing for dominance.
"Wait—" August breathed when Klaus forced him down. "This isn't how I pictured it."
"And how did you picture it?" Klaus said, voice low.
"I'm usually on top."
"Then adjust."
"That's not—"
"Then stop talking."
"Switch—"
"No."
Klaus pushed him down harder—
and then—
—
For a split second—
it wasn't August.
It was Egor.
—
Everything snapped.
Cold.
Clear.
Violent.
Klaus froze.
Then pulled back instantly.
Silence.
Breathing.
Heavy.
Broken.
The desire still there—
but hollow now.
Cracked.
Egor.
Again.
Even now—
he stopped him.