Hi all it's Pandora! For her birthday Holly requested some Karmagisa set at a ball in a Victorian inspired era - I really hope you all enjoy it!
As the carriage trundles up the long driveway of the manor, Nagisa gazes out the window at the house and fiddles with his gloves, the knot in his stomach tightening at the sight of it.
"Stop that," his mother chides, leaning forward to prise the gloves from his grip. "You'll crease them if you're not careful."
She presses them flat on her satin-covered lap, ironing out imaginary wrinkles with her fingers.
"They won't be creased once I put them on," points out Nagisa.
"Well put them on then," says his mother, running her fingers fondly along the lace edge. Nagisa watches her, remembering those fingers in his hair earlier, her nails on his scalp and the smell of his scorched hair on the tongs, and tries not to begrudge the gloves her gentler touch. She returns them and Nagisa pulls them back on, praying he won't sweat through and stain them. "A proper young lady should never be without her gloves."
Nagisa frowns at her. "But I'm not—ow!"
He doesn't have the time (nor space) to duck away from her fast fingers snatching forward to pinch him painfully on the thigh through his dress. Even through the layers of skirt and petticoat and drawers, his skin bites with the pain of the assault.
"I thought I made it very clear," she says, her tone frosty through gritted teeth. "You're not to say anything like that tonight. You're going to go into that house and look beautiful and dance with as many of the eligible bachelors as there are present and with any luck one of them will want to take you as his bride."
Nagisa's mouth drops open in protest again but, remembering the pinch to his leg (and some of his mother's other favourite punishments), he swallows the words. It's not as if she would listen to him now anyway: her eyes are shining with a far off, dreamy stare and he knows she'll be imagining all her dreams coming true right now. Her mind is likely swimming with visions of Nagisa's wedding dress already—never mind that if anyone were to find out they would likely both be condemned... or at least he would.
"I do hope the Akabanes' son will be there," she sighs, entirely lost in her own thoughts. "He really would be the most wonderful prospect..."
Nagisa shakes his head to himself, looking back out the carriage window. The Akabane manor is easily the grandest place to which he's ever been invited (and he's not sure why they were invited—his mother said she used her "charm" but Nagisa suspects that charm was simply her being so overbearing that the invitation was extended to shut her up) and he's unsure what to expect from the evening. He knows he'll be expected to dance and make conversation—his mother drilled him on appropriate topics and dance steps, last year's shoes pinching his toes as he wobbled his way through it all—but the idea of being in a room with so many strangers is daunting, especially in the flower-patterned, pale periwinkle gown he's wearing. With his hair up as it is, ringlets framing his face, and the make up his mother applied he knows people will be fooled, but his heart still pounds when he thinks of anyone noticing he's a boy.
The carriage pulls up to the front door and footmen clad in smart black help the two of them alight. Nagisa self-consciously sweeps one hand over the back of his full skirt to shake out any wrinkles from the carriage seat before following his mother into the house. The entrance hall is impossibly elegant, with polished floors and exquisite furniture; Nagisa almost almost loses himself in gazing at it all, stumbling slightly in his too-tight shoes.
"Do that again and you'll regret it," his mother hisses to him as they enter the ladies' sitting room to deposit their outerwear, her expression brightening as she greets the other women there.
She says that like I don't already regret everything about this, Nagisa thinks privately. He follows her around the sitting room, nodding quietly when the other women greet him, and eventually into the ballroom. The smell of roses threatens to overwhelm him and the bright colour and movement on the floor dazzles him; he sticks close to his mother, dipping little curtsies as he's introduced to people, eventually coming to a stop when she comes across a handsome couple.
"Viscount and Viscountess!" she says brightly, dropping into a low curtsy. Nagisa follows suit, though not as low, realising these must be the Akabanes. "Thank you kindly for inviting us this evening." She stands again, exchanging a few more pleasantries before saying, "And this is my daughter Nagisa."
Nagisa feels his cheeks flush as the man and woman look at him and he bobs another curtsy.
"You look very lovely Miss Nagisa," says the Viscountess.
"Th-thank you," says Nagisa softly. "Your home is beautiful."
The Viscountess smiles before Nagisa's mother asks, "Is your son here this evening?"
Nagisa winces at the transparency of his mother's words, not missing the look that passes across the Viscountess' face as she looks around.
"He is home—if he appears I'll tell him to introduce himself," she says.
"He should ask Nagisa for a dance," puts in Nagisa's mother; Nagisa resists the urge to make a face. "She's been practising so hard."
"I'll let him know when I see him," says the Viscountess, moving away to speak to another guest.
Nagisa skirts around the room with his mother for a little while longer, gazing about at his surroundings. A large painting of a corpulent man on a horse hangs above a fireplace; Nagisa spends so long admiring it that when he looks around his mother is nowhere to be seen. He searches for her but can't see her and breathes a silent sigh of relief: without her, he can relax a little. With a strange sense of freedom, Nagisa slowly wanders the ballroom, looking around himself at the grandeur of the place. He's so distracted at one point by the high ceiling and ornate chandeliers that he walks right into someone.
"Oh!" he squeaks, feeling his toes stab with pain at the collision. "I'm so sorry!"
"You should be," says the young man he stepped into. He has pale orange hair and a cruel turn to his mouth as he dusts off his maroon velvet evening jacket. Nagisa glances at his surroundings, seeing the guy's companions (four of the sternest looking boys his own age Nagisa has ever seen) before dropping a quick curtsy, his aching feet protesting. He needs to do something about them soon.
"I'm terribly sorry," he says again. "I should have been paying more attention to where I was going."
"Yes you sh... Oh?" The guy finally deigns to look at Nagisa violet eyes sizing him up, and Nagisa feels himself flush at the scrutiny; he was trying to avoid drawing anyone's attention. "I didn't realise you were..." The boy's voice trails off.
Nagisa clears his throat when the silence stretches. "Were what sir?"
The guy gives him a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "A very lovely young lady."
He offers Nagisa a small bow and Nagisa nods. "Thank you sir. If you'll excuse me..."
"Where are you going?" The tone in the young man's question makes Nagisa's stomach tense but he tries a small smile.
"I should go and find my mother," he says, attempting a light tone even as his ankles begin to shake. The young man looks him up and down again before nodding.
"Alright," he says before smiling again. "Perhaps you'd honour me with a dance later?"
"Perhaps," says Nagisa, giving him another quick curtsy before making his escape. He walks as quickly as he can in the painful shoes, heading out of the ballroom and down a deserted corridor, turning corners until he's out of sight of the ballroom and any people before he comes to a stop and leans against the wall.
Letting out a breath, he feels tears prickling behind his eyes and blinks them away. The collision with the young man before jarred his toes and ankles and rushing away has only made the pain worse. He bends forward, leaning against the wall for balance and easing the shoes off his feet; his stockings are stuck to his skin with sweat and blisters have rubbed and burst on his heels and toes, staining them bloody red. With trembling fingers, he pulls the stockings off too, wriggling his toes and enjoying the freedom and coolness of the floor on his heated skin. He has no idea how he's going to get all of it back on later but right now he can't bring himself to care.
"Well well, what have we here?" comes a velvety voice.
Nagisa's head snaps up and he sees another young man standing before him in a deep blue velvet evening jacket. He has a shock of red hair, almost as vivid as blood, and tawny eyes over a smirking mouth; Nagisa feels rooted to the spot by how attractive he is.
"S... sorry sir," he stammers, scrambling to pick up his shoes again, dropping his full skirts to cover his injured feet. "My... my shoes were hurting..."
"Oh don't apologise on my account," says the young man, still smirking as he comes closer. "I can't tell a pretty girl to put her shoes back on if they're causing her pain."
Nagisa feels his face colour at the compliment and drops his gaze again. "Thank you sir."
The young man gives him a bow. "I'm Karma."
"I'm Nagisa," says Nagisa, giving a curtsy.
Something seems to pass across Karma's face before he smiles again. "Too much dancing?" he asks, stepping closer.
Nagisa gives him a small, sheepish smile. "I haven't danced at all tonight, these are just rather small for me."
He's not sure what makes him so honest with Karma but he feels his heart skip and shoulders relax when Karma chuckles. With Karma standing close to him, the height difference between them is extremely apparent and he has to lift his chin to look into Karma's face as Karma draws even closer. A shiver of anticipation goes through him and he swallows.
"I would have thought someone like you would be dancing all night," Karma says, reaching up with one hand to twirl one of Nagisa's ringlets.
"Like me?" asks Nagisa, another little flush coming to his cheeks—Karma's proximity alone is entirely improper and is turning Nagisa's insides into a swarm of mad butterflies. Part of him wants to push Karma away, struggle back into the shoes and return to the crowded safety of the ballroom, but Karma's captivating gaze keeps him rooted, barefoot, to the spot.
Karma tugs gently on the ringlet again, letting it bounce back into place as he looks right into Nagisa's eyes. "Someone as beautiful as you."
Nagisa tears his gaze from Karma's again, unable to maintain the eye contact anymore. He looks down at his hands, still gloved and clasped at his cinched-in waist, painfully aware of the illusion of femininity it presents Karma. "That's very kind of you to say sir."
"Oh there's nothing kind about it," says Karma, his smirk absolutely clear in his voice. One of his hands slips around Nagisa's waist to pull them flush together, his other hand lifting Nagisa's chin to bring their lips mere inches apart. "I just can't resist you."
He brings their lips together in a searing kiss and Nagisa's eyes flutter closed. Karma's lips are warm and insistent against Nagisa's, his tongue more so when it slips out to coax Nagisa's mouth open. Having never had anyone kiss him like this before, Nagisa has to cling to Karma for balance, his heart racing as he tentatively flicks his own tongue against Karma's. The hand under Nagisa's chin slides up, cupping the back of Nagisa's head and Nagisa whimpers softly against his lips, the intensity of the kiss and knowledge of the lack of privacy making his knees weak. Karma's hand at his waist crushes their bodies tighter together, the only thing keeping Nagisa from dropping to the floor as his head grows light from forgetting to breathe. When Karma pulls back to smirk at him again, Nagisa whines, half in protest and half in relief; Karma chuckles softly at the sound.
"You're very responsive," he says, the feeling of his breath on Nagisa's face making Nagisa's stomach jolt. "Have you ever been kissed before?"
"Not like that," says Nagisa breathlessly, fingers curling in the velvet of Karma's jacket. Judging by both Karma's words and the way he kisses, Karma most certainly has kissed like that before. For a brief moment, Nagisa worries about his lack of experience, but then Karma gently tips his head to one side and all he can do is let out a breathy moan as Karma kisses down the side of his neck.
Every touch of Karma's hands and lips on his skin makes Nagisa feel like he's floating, his heart skipping with each new kiss. The jolting in his stomach has turned into a warm feeling, a tightening low in his body like a spring coiling tighter with each passing second. It's a feeling Nagisa's only felt a couple of times before, usually when he's woken up from particularly vivid dreams, but with Karma it feels more dizzingly real. Karma bites gently on Nagisa's earlobe and Nagisa gasps, clinging to him tighter.
"Relax," urges Karma softly, his breath tickling inside Nagisa's ear. "I promise not to leave a mark."
If he's honest with himself, that's not what Nagisa was thinking of—though with the low neckline of his dress, he realises that he probably should have been. A rebellious part of him, with the idea planted so neatly into his head, now wants Karma to mark him up, leave him something that will linger for days to come and remind him that this encounter with this stranger isn't just a wild dream. He imagines going back out to the ballroom, defiantly displaying the evidence of their activities... and then his mother taking him home and caning him, the raised welts on the backs of his thighs stinging and biting with every move he'd make for days after. It's not worth a moment of audacity.
Karma's tongue leaves a scorching trail down to Nagisa's collarbone and his hand slides down Nagisa's waist, gripping his hip through layers of dress and petticoat; Nagisa's breath catches in his throat around his quickening pulse. Feeling Karma's hand venturing lower feels incredible but also reminds Nagisa of his own body.
"Karma," he murmurs, his voice tight around the name.
Karma groans, stifling the sound against Nagisa's throat. "Shit, you sound so pretty." His hand continues to move down, starting to tug Nagisa's skirts up.
"No, Karma, I..." Nagisa reaches down to take hold of Karma's wrist and Karma pauses, looking into Nagisa's face.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"I'm fine," Nagisa says, fingers trembling on Karma's wrist. "This is... amazing, but—"
"Do you want me to stop?" asks Karma.
"No." Nagisa shakes his head—it's the last thing he wants right now. "Just... I'm not..."
He stumbles over his explanation and Karma gives him a little smile.
"I know you won't have done anything like this before," he says gently. "I'll make it good for you, I promise."
"It's... It's not that," stutters Nagisa. "I'm... I'm a..."
"A boy?" Karma suggests, face and voice neutral. Nagisa nods incredulously and Karma gives him a grin of what looks like triumph. "Well then, looks like I was right."
"You knew?!" Nagisa's eyes widen—if Karma can tell, what about everyone else?
Karma shrugs. "I guessed—I'm good with faces. Don't worry, I don't think anyone else would be able to work it out."
"Oh..." Nagisa gapes at him. "And... you're not... upset?"
Karma chuckles softly. "You're still beautiful, whatever you prefer to wear."
Any response Nagisa might have for him is cut off as Karma kisses down his neck again, teeth grazing over his skin. One of Nagisa's hands slides up Karma's back to tangle in his hair as he lets Karma continue to lift his skirts. Underneath, Karma's fingers find the opening in Nagisa's split drawers and Nagisa feels as though he might pass out.
"How do you like it?" Karma asks, his nimble fingers pausing at the separation in the fabric.
Nagisa frowns in confusion. "Like... what?"
"To be touched," says Karma simply. When Nagisa continues to stare at him wordlessly, he asks, "Do you... not like to be touched?"
"I... don't really do it," admits Nagisa, his cheeks colouring afresh as he thinks of the one time his mother accused him of thinking of doing so and caned him across his palms for it, talking about how it was 'unacceptable behaviour for a young girl'. It didn't matter that he hadn't done it; he hasn't entertained the idea since. "I've never..."
"Never done it to yourself?" Karma asks, his face slack with surprise. When Nagisa shakes his head, he shakes his own too. "Well, if you'll let me, I'll make you feel wonderful."
"O... okay," Nagisa nods, holding tighter onto Karma as Karma's hand slides down and wraps around his cock.
Nagisa's bare toes curl on the cold floor as he feels him squeeze and then start to stroke his cock. He trembles, burying his face into Karma's chest to muffle his moans as Karma brings him to new heights of pleasure. A long way off, he can hear music and the hum of conversation from the ballroom and part of him distantly wonders how much trouble he would be in if his mother were to see him like this, but then Karma teases his thumb under the head of his cock and he has to swallow a louder moan.
"Karma!" he rasps, a shudder going through him when Karma speeds up the movement of his hand.
Karma's free hand cups the back of Nagisa's neck once more, tipping his head back to kiss him again; Nagisa can only clutch at him as he tries his best to kiss back. The tension in his body is wound so tight to almost be painful and he feels like he can hardly breathe. If he were alone and doing this himself he'd stop, too overwhelmed to continue, but Karma moves his hand ceaselessly and Nagisa has to trust that Karma isn't going to kill him through sheer pleasure. He whimpers into Karma's mouth, tears pricking the corners of his eyes again.
"You close?" Karma asks, teeth nipping at Nagisa's bottom lip, soothing the bite a moment later with his tongue.
"Y-yeah," Nagisa stammers—he doesn't know what Karma means exactly but he can feel something coming, a precipice whose edge he'll soon reach.
"Come for me Nagisa," Karma murmurs.
The feeling hits Nagisa like a lightning bolt: he gasps and feels his cock pulsing in Karma's hand that keeps moving, guiding Nagisa though the white out pleasure that overtakes every one of his senses. He shakes, trapped between the wall and Karma's body, moaning softly when Karma kisses him again. They stay there for a while, their kisses growing slower with Karma's movements, and Nagisa pants to catch his breath.
"You okay?" Karma asks once Nagisa relaxes a little.
Nagisa nods. "I'm... yes, that was... wow!"
"Good." With a grin, Karma retrieves his hand from under Nagisa's dress. He licks his fingers clean and Nagisa flushes anew even as he can't take his eyes off the sight. "We should get back to the ballroom."
"Okay." Nagisa knows his voice sounds a little disappointed; he would very much prefer to stay here with Karma even though he knows it's impossible. Straightening his dress, he reaches down to pick up his stockings and shoes.
"I'll go ahead," says Karma, brushing a little of Nagisa's face powder from his jacket. "Get your shoes back on and I promise we'll have a dance."
Nagisa gives him a little smile and they share one last kiss before Karma leaves. As he puts his stockings and shoes back on—now scarcely noticing the blisters—Nagisa wonders if anyone will be able to tell what has transpired between them in this empty corridor. He smooths out his dress, shakes out his petticoats, takes off one glove to swipe away any residual tears from his eyelashes.
Once he feels ready, he takes a steadying breath and makes his way back to the ballroom. There he finds people dancing and talking, exactly as they were when he slipped away, and quickly spots Karma's flaming red hair a little way off. He makes his way over, realising on the way that Karma is in conversation with Viscountess Akabane and... his mother. Clearing his throat to bring some moisture into his mouth, he approaches.
"Here she is," his mother announces, extending an arm to him and putting it around his shoulders. She gestures to Karma with her free hand. "Nagisa this is the Right Honourable Karma Akabane, son of the Viscount and Viscountess."
Stunned into silence, Nagisa drops into a curtsy as Karma bows to him again. As he straightens, he clears his throat again, knowing his face must be almost as scarlet as Karma's hair.
"It's a pleasure to meet you sir," he gets out.
"Oh no," says Karma with a wide grin. "The pleasure is all mine."