Author's Note: This is crack. Don't take it too seriously. ;)
"Nadja," Keith blinked. He had expected that when the baffled butler told him that a viscious common girl demanded to see him, but he certainly did not understand why his lover of three years would show up on his doorstep, terrorizing the butler. Nadja was not often viscious, and even then, only with good reason. Had he unknowingly done something to upset her? Or was it something else? "Is something wrong?"
Indeed, Nadja's eyes were flashing as she stomped up to him.
"I pledged myself to you when I was fourteen. Neither of us has glanced in the direction of anyone else since then. At least, so I thought. But it's been three years. I'm seventeen, and you're twenty. But all you do is kiss me, and so help me, but you kiss like...like paradise, especially when you do that thing with your tongue, or when you use your teeth a little, and your fingers are like fire when you hug me, but that's all you do! Are you aware that I've been going crazy? My daily routines are getting so crazy with dance practice, because I use that to take my mind off this, but even that isn't working too well anymore, and people are starting to worry that I'm trying too hard! This is all your fault, so if you don't take responsibility and bed me soon-"
A more honorable man may have protested. Keith, however, was not as honorable as he was frustrated, and the hours of paperwork and horseback riding were definitely not helping any more than Nadja's excessive dance practice. Nadja wasn't the only one who was being chewed out about her daily routine.
Which was why Nadja was cut off when he crossed the room in three strides, grabbed her by the hips with one hand and the back of the neck with the other, and she would have melted into his kiss if she hadn't been so determined to get far, far more than this.
"Nadja, is that you-" The door at the other room opened and Francis stepped in, only to halt and stare in moral outrage—and with mild brain damange and the strange need to burn his eyes out—at the sight that was his brother and his best friend.
Nadja, at least, had the decency to release her legs from Keith's waist and get back on her own two feet, but Keith pushed her harder against the wall with a glare at Francis that was strangely reminiscent of a wolf ready to pounce upon its prey. Francis wasn't sure if said 'pouncing' involved Nadja being bedded or himself being murdered, but seeing as how Nadja appeared to be an active participant, he figured that he was best not interfering lest the two of them decide that he needed to be murdered.
But in a last scramble for descency, he tried, "If I may...this is a rather public area. Perhaps your bed chambers-"
Keith had scooped Nadja up before Francis could finish, and Francis watched in vague horror as Nadja gave a squeal of delight and looped her arms around Keith's neck, tossing the words, "Thanks, Francis!" carelessly back at him as if she had not just traumatized him for life.
Francis only understood the reprecussions of his suggestion that night when he went to his own chambers to sleep that night—chambers which were right next to Keith's where 'activities' were still loudly continuing.
Obviously, he had grossly underestimated the stamina of two rather athletic individuals who were dealing with five years' worth of sexual tention. It also explained the randomly blushing maids and servants that he had glimpsed around the house that evening.
He decided that he was going to go pay the Hamiltons a late visit, and hopefully never return until his traumatised mind had eliminated the entire incident from his memory.