This is our first piece of fanfiction in many... many years. Enjoy!
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Flickering light filled the room with a dim orange glow. The log in the hearth burning brightly illuminating the room, as all the other lights were out and a dark night sky lay beyond the drawn curtains of the windows. Marble pillars bordered the fireplace and wrapped into the mantle with veins of silver running through floral carvings. A great oil portrait of a certain white clad heiress hung above the fireplace, its gold leafed frame glimmering in the light of the burning log.
Basking in the light of the flame sat Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Corporation, the same heiress as depicted in the extravagantly detailed painting, albeit a few years older. Her high-backed chair seemed more like a throne than an armchair, lifting her up to the point where her smaller stature no longer mattered. It was a chair fitting for one of the Schnee family. Ornate, elegant, and imposing. Sitting calmly, she stared into the fire, losing herself and her surroundings to internal thought. Contemplation of some deep economic struggle, perhaps, or maybe she was just daydreaming of a far off place and new, other persons. One of the two.
"My- ...My lady," a low, hesitant voice called out respectfully, "Your coffee." Blake entered the room, a silver tray held in her hands laden with a cup, coffee pot, cream cup, and sugar dish all of fine, filigree china. As she entered the room, Blake's appearance contrasted with Weiss, who was dressed in her normal skirt and coat. Blake wore a suit, but not one of any status. It was less fancy, yet still tailored, close to that of a butlers. More notably than her suit, her appearance was different than usual due to the uncovered ears atop her head along with a black thin collar around her neck from which a small black bell hung gleaming in the orange light. Her expression was even, and her posture held straight, but her eyes betrayed her nerves. They fluttered between the hand resting on the arm of the heiress' chair, to the side of the young woman's head, then away, and then back again.
"You're late." Weiss's voice rang with her usual bossy tone, the statement crisp and sharp against the air of the quiet room. She snapped her fingers and pointed at the small stained wood table next to her chair. Her eyes were still locked onto the flames, despite the new being in her presence. Blake made her way across the room swiftly, keeping the tray perfectly level so as not to spill the dark drink onto the imported rug. Setting the tray down on the table, she bent forward and her face became more visible now closer to the hearth. Despite the still expression she held in the wake of the heiress, a slight redness stood apart from the colored light, and was now visible across her cheeks.
"How would you like your coffee this evening Wei-" The heiress' arm whipped through the air, the back of her hand striking the faunus' cheek with all the accuracy and speed as was expected from a fencer. To Blake's testament, she hadn't flinched. She took the hit without stumbling or upsetting the tray, staying stooped next to the heiress' chair.
"You are a servant. Do not forget: you are to refer to me as 'Your Lady' or 'Madam.' Do you understand, cat?" The proclamation was given with a sharpness only heard in Weiss's voice on the few occasions she felt wronged or underestimated. It was her second sword, one she always wielded with precision and power.
"I do, W-... Madam, yes. I'm sorry, I'll remember," Blake's cheek smarted from the hit but the mark did not show from under the blush creeping over her face, "How... how would Madam like her coffee?"
"Two Sugars and a dash of cream." Weiss replied, the whip now absent from her voice, but still devoid of any compassion for her teammate. She stared off into the fire, ignoring the clinks and stirring on the tray.
"Your coffee is ready, Madam." Countering Weiss's indifferent tones, Blake spoke with a caring air as she proffered the fragile cup. Weiss took the cup and sipped. They stayed there for a few minutes, Blake silently standing vigil, Weiss occasionally taking sips of the steaming drink. This peace lasted only until the cup sat back on the tray empty.
"The coffee was... average. Not the best," Weiss spoke to the fire, again facing away from Blake. "But it gave me time to remember something," and at this she turned towards Blake, "You are a cat. A pet. Pet's don't stand next to their charge. They sit next to their owner." Weiss commanded, her voice not quite as powerful as earlier, a small blush creeping upon her pale cheeks. For a moment Blake looked around expecting to find another chair in the room, that is until Weiss snapped her fingers and pointed down at the carpet under her feet. Both paused.
"Sit."
The single word called upon Blake's heart, sending it revving, driving it to tap sharply against her chest. Here she goes. With all the dignity she could muster she took the short two steps to pass in front of Weiss, and lowered herself into a kneeling position. It was at this point that Blake noticed just how high the armchair was. Weiss wasn't tiny, but she was short and in this chair her crossed legs dangled her feet a foot or so off the ground. Her ears felt exposed, and they flicked with the beating of her heart, as the silence lasted for a good minute or so. This wasn't the first time she had kneeled at her teammate's feet, but it hadn't happened very often.
Expecting something of a harsher nature, Blake inhaled with a small startled note as a delicate hand fell gently in between her ears. Weiss pet and scratched between the small fuzzy faunus' ears, her blush crawling up her cheeks. Warmth spread from Blake's crown from the small gesture of care and relaxing feeling Weiss's hand was giving her.
"You've been a very good pet," at this statement, Blake glanced up. Weiss's tone was kinder than any other she had heard that evening. "And I suppose a good servant as well. I believe a sort of reward is in order." Blake's ears perked showing more emotion than what surfaced on her face. In all the times they had done this, in all these encounters, Blake had only rarely received any sort of 'reward.'
"I've heard kittens like cream." with this Weiss flashed a knowing smile, but only for a moment. She reached over and plucked the small cream cup from the coffee dish. By this point Blake had flushed further; the cat similes were fun and all, and she had to admit when she put her pride to the side they were kind of fun, but it wasnt like she was exactly a cat. Though what happened next drove Blake to flush far more. Weiss had held the cup up and, with what she thought was stupendous aim, tipped the cup and poured the cream into the air where it fell in a gleaming straight line before cascading over one of her boots and onto the ground. "Lick it off."
Blake stared, she wasn't partial to the taste of boot, or for that matter any incredible fan of cream, but she wasn't going to let that stop her. Her pride was nothing when it came to entertaining a certain young heiress. She leaned forwards and slid her tongue over the white boot, lapping at the remnants of cream as she went, her ears filled with the thumping of her own heart. This was something the two of them engaged in in private, and for good reason. The line between professional teammate and personal intimate emotions cross between them, albeit only on these nights. She continued cleaning, flicking her ears every so often, and Weiss's lips turned white as she pressed them together, the blush finally overtaking her face. "Make sure it's completely clean pet."
Blake continued, her head bowed over the heiress' boots, tongue slowly lapping away, the bell on her collar tinkling softly. The milky coffee supplement soaked into the carpet bellow, but Blake stayed focused on her single task of making sure not a drop of the cream remained anywhere on her 'Madam'. Weiss bit her lip, head full of electricity, determined to not let a single sound slip. Her whole chest swelled with heat and she looked down at the faunus, the proud and strong ex-white fang bowing to her. This was a professional arrangement, as all arrangements made by the heiress were, but it was still something that she found difficult to separate from her emotions. Her handle on these emotions were dusty, her internal control was lapse after years of suppressing and hiding any expression besides stern command. But now, thoughts of ownership, dependency, and care-taking buzzed through her head, and she wanted to bend down and caress the subservient being before her, as one does to a gentle loving pet, to bring her closer, have her held at her mark by a single word from the heiress' mouth. Or maybe there would be no need for a word.
"Th-thats enough," Weiss's voice quavered, scattering the thoughts that had become too intimate to handle all at once. Her tone quickly regained the authority the heiress of the Schnee Dynasty could wield, and Blake's face rose from the tip of her boot. The golden eyes flitted between the young heiress' face, glinting expectantly underneath the short black bangs of hair. With the guidance of a pale hand Blake laid her chin upon the crossed knees. She raised her eyes up to the heiress' face, taking in the bright pink flush on the smooth, porcelain cheekbones, and purred with satisfaction. The sound vibrated up through the heiress' bones and into her body, further kindling the low-burning fire inside her ribcage.
"I... like it when you give me commands," Blake trilled, "even if we can only do it for a short while, Princess." She smiled her small, one-sided smile up at the younger woman, whose cheeks now burned brighter than her own. Part of this was for Blake and Weiss' mutual benefits, but another part of this was so the faunus could watch the young huntress practice letting herself feel more intimate with other people, letting herself find pleasure in the connection with another, however that connection might be enacted.
"Yes well. It is good to remind others about who they're dealing with." Weiss's voice had returned to it's normal tone, the smooth air of superiority intact. A pale hand dropped itself onto Blake's head and scratched softly between her ears. The log cracked in the fire and fell with a slight thump of ash.