8.

"You are awfully quiet today."

"I simply have nothing to say, Sir Ivan."

"That is a first."

"I agree, my lord."

Ivan requested that Justine join him in his study while he worked, just as he normally did, though this afternoon was different. The air was thick with tension and Justin appeared to want to be anywhere else than with him. She refused to look him in the eye anymore, she shied away from his touches, and she barely spoke a word to him. Ivan found himself annoyed, to say the least, and what floored him was that he was more annoyed than he should have been.

Was she having a bad day?
Was she bleeding?

Ivan had no idea.

And he had no idea why he cared so much.

It wasn't like Ivan actually enjoyed being in the slave's company, listening her mindless babble and entertaining her thoughts.

It wasn't like he enjoyed seeing her smile, how her eyes lit up, and hearing her laugh.

'Dear god…'

The pen he had been holding fell from his hand as he eyed the slave across the room, book in her lap. Her thin fingers turned the crisp pages, dark eyes scanning the elegantly written words.

"Will you accompany me to a play two evenings from now?" He suddenly asked.

Justine glanced at him, her full lips set in a frown while her brows knotted. "Would you not rather go with Lady Lillian instead?" She countered, sounding more bitter than she intended.

"Lillian will be away for a few days," Explained Ivan. "I am sure you will enjoy it if you go."

Justine thought about the knight's offer before eventually agreeing to accompany him. "Alright, my lord."

"Very well," He said. His lips tugged upwards slightly in the corners. "When I head into town tomorrow I will buy you your dress for the occasion, unless you wish to make another."

"Whatever you choose is fine." Justine replied curtly.

"Francis will be stopping by today, do you mind brewing us some tea?"

"Of course not, my lord." Her eyes slid back to the book in her lap.

Francis Bonnefoy could be an annoying loud mouth at times, but the Frenchman could give great advice, he was a decent listener, and well… a friend was a friend. He and Ivan had been serving the king for years now, they weren't that far a part in age. And though they had their shared number of differences, Ivan cherished the man greatly. They fought together, on and off the battlefield. They talked, Francis about the trail of women (and men) he left behind him all over the countryside, and Ivan about the things that haunted his dreams at night. And now, as they sat in his study, the two knights conversed about Justine.

"What seems to be the problem with peu Justine?" Francis asked as he crossed his legs.

"I am not sure," Ivan sighed. More so out of frustration that desperation. "One moment we are fine, and the next? She is uninterested in anything I have to say, in spending any time with me. It is a privilege to be in my study, to read my books, to be in my home! Yet, here she is… holding her peace, which you know is not like her."

Francis and Justine developed a friendship (acquaintanceship…?) he approved of vaguely, making him the best person to talk to.

"Women are fickle creatures."

"Bien sur," Francis nodded. "Have you asked her what was troubling her?"

"You know just as well as I do that she will not confess it." Ivan scoffed.

"When did things start to change?"

Ivan thought for a moment. "I suppose after Lillian arrived," He said.

Francis hummed, encouraging him to continue.

"She would purposely distance herself, locking herself in her room, not eating with e during meals. The nerve of that girl!"

"Maybe she is jaloux." Francis suggested with a shrug.

"Jealous? Of what? For what?" Ivan coughed.

"Lillian, perhaps. She has your hand and affection, she warms your bed…" Said Francis. "Justine is young, reaching her prime. Her emotions, her body, are developing. And it does not help that her master is a handsome knight she cannot have."

"You drink too much wine, my friend. It is finally ruining your mind."

"Perhaps," Francis chuckled. "But if there is one thing I know, mon amie, it is the heart of a woman. You are too dense to see what I see."

Ivan rolled his eyes.

"If you will not take Justine to your bed to quench her thirst, I do not mind doing it for you. Honhonhon!" Francis went on to kindly offer.

"That will not be necessary," Ivan grumbled. "But if what you say is true, what am I do to?" He honestly didn't know. Adultery was a sin he would rather not commit in the lord's eye.

"Whatever do you mean?" Francis feigned horror. "Must I direct you in the art of love making as well? Well! If you insist!"

Ivan rubbed his temples with a groan, a few hours with Francis felt like an eternity.

The manor fell back into its usual routine, Justine clanking around in the kitchen as she prepared meals, Ivan holed up in his study though now it was because he didn't know what to say to Justine outside of small talk. When he found her in the kitchen that night, dinner was baking and she occupied herself with mashing berries.

"What are you making?" Asked Ivan.

"Jam," Justine said as she gestured towards her bowl. "Would you care to try some?"

"Sure."

Justine dipped her finger into the dark goop, half expecting him to not take it. She gasped as he took her finger, taking it into his mouth. Ivan gave a single suck, eyes never leaving hers, before releasing her. He hummed in delight, Justine felt like she was about to have an aneurysm.

"It is delicious," He admitted.

"Uh… thank you, my lord." Justine blushed.

'This man is going to be the death of me!'

"You are welcome," Said Ivan. "I will leave you to your doings. Fetch me when dinner is ready."

And with that, Justine was alone once again.

The pair ate dinner in moderate silence, every now and then Ivan would say something, and Justine would answer. But nothing worth conversing long about. Lillian had left for some unknown endeavor just before the sun had set, so Justine was seated across the small table from Ivan.

Preparing for the winter months was going smoothly but it was taking longer than Ivan wanted it to, he asked if there was anything she wanted specifically, Justine said no. Food was food in her case, she wasn't picky.

After dinner Ivan retired to his bedroom early, and Justine decided the best way to end the day was with a nice bath. God only knew she earned it. Stripping down, Justine climbed into the ivory tub with a sigh. Being around Ivan now was becoming a chore she didn't want. It has been days since she stumbled upon him and Lilian having sex, days since she felt as if her heart had been ripped out and stepped on by the king himself.

The affectionate pats on the head that seemed to linger, lingered longer. Those gazes he gave her when he thought she wasn't paying him any attention seemed to follow her like the eyes of Christ.

It made being around him difficult.

Just looking at him caused her mind to drift back to that night, his body unclothed and fucking. And Lillian, Justine envied that bitch.

Justine saw the man naked, saw his well endowed…

She blushed.

Justine could only imagine those large hands touching her, caressing her.

Her breasts, her nipples.

Down the flat plain of her stomach, her naval.

Justine gasped as she touched herself, nimble fingers slipping past her folds. Her back arched as her head fell back, mouth open in a moan of his name. She imagined him above her, those violet eyes of his solely on her. His warm breath timed with rough thrusts as he screwed her into nothingness. His body between her legs, his hot, thick cock buried deep inside her. Justine whimpered as her fingers sunk deeper, her other hand gripped her right, ample breast. That deep voice of his as he grunted, sweat clinging to his skin, as he would come. Justine gasped his name as she came, back bowing off the back of the tub. A single tear rolled down her cheek, falling silently.

…..

Ivan stood with his back pressed to the wall, his cock in his hands. He should have felt ashamed for spying, it was beyond an invasion of privacy, but he just simply couldn't look away. He couldn't tear his eyes from the display of his slave, legs spread and moaning as she pleasured herself to thoughts of him.

Now, as he stood stroking himself, he couldn't remember what he had been doing prior to finding her in such a state. He could've been heading to bed for the evening, could've been in his study when he suddenly heard her. The details were a blur.

The only thing that mattered in that moment was Justine, getting herself off.

She was beautiful before, but now?

Ivan gave himself a squeeze, rutting frantically into his palms. They weren't her tight, sweet ass but they would do.

He was so hard it hurt, groaning as he pumped himself harder.

Ivan wanted her.

It was unclear then, he was unsure and his conscious was getting the best of him.

But Ivan wanted her, needed her.

He needed to feel her mouth around his weeping cock head, sucking him off with those plump lips of hers. He wanted to slide his cock, slick with her saliva, between her ample breasts. He wanted to suck on her dark nipples, he wanted to tease her. He wanted to hear her beg for him. He wanted to fuck her, just bend her over and bury himself deep inside her. He wanted her to scream for him, on her knees.

Ivan gave a throaty grunt as he spilt himself onto his floor, hands now coated in his sticky seed. He sighed shakily as his knees all but buckled on his way over to his bed. Ivan laid there for a moment, catching his breath, dick now limp against his thigh.

What was he going to do now?