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Caprice

Chapter XVII


Two days later, after much time thinking about the duchess' crazed scheming and her clever generosity, Lord Portgas broke the news to Marco over a breakfast of smoked ham and fine wine, as the gin was not looking particularly appealing this morning. "Marco, I must tell you something. I have secured, thanks to the duchess' charity, a maid to help with the housework."

Marco blanched and lines creased his face. "Is another servant really necessary, my Lord?"

Lord Portgas smiled and leaned his fork and knife against the side of his plate laden with meat. He carefully folded his hands in front of him, formal except for the grin on his face. "Yes, I do believe it is, Marco, and please remember to call me Ace. As you know I don't like seeing you overburdened with mundane tasks. Besides, I have decided she should start off her work while staying in the servant's quarters, in the room where you are currently residing."

Marco's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. "Where does that leave me then?"

"Upstairs with me, if you agree to this arrangement."

Lord Portgas watched a pink flush come to his valet's cheeks as he looked down at his nearly empty dinner plate. In all honesty, he did not think even for a minute that Marco would jump on the opportunity. In fact, he was certain the man would refuse and politely ask that the lord terminate the new maid's services. He was preparing himself for a fight that would show Marco's more commanding side, the one he'd been introduced to when they were last in bed with each other.

He was not at all expecting Marco to look him in the eyes and nod. "All the better to serve and watch over you, I suppose."

Lord Portgas grimaced at his valet's words. "Marco, you really don't have to say such things. If it were up to me – and in all actuality it certainly is – you would not have a position beneath me but as my equal and partner."

"I don't think the Church would like what we are discussing," Marco grumbled, the whites of his eyes flashing. "Besides, what would the maid think? Two men, both masters of the same house? She would also be disturbed by the out-dated practice of a servant watching over his lord. It may raise questions in her…"

He knew what Marco was trying to say but was unable to express clearly. "She will not find out about our situation and, if she does, it is not as if she will say anything to anyone. She will not be allowed upstairs; her domain to keep clean will be downstairs, and you will handle the upper floor."

Marco sighed shakily and let Lord Portgas lay a reassuring palm over his knuckles. "I suppose you're right, Ace. She would not have the power to speak out and have her words believed at any rate."

Lord Portgas turned his knuckles over so he held Marco's hand in his, and then brought their link to his lips, kissing Marco's fingers one by one. He carefully watched Marco's expression as he did this. The man held his gaze, and the lord's heart swelled knowing that Marco wasn't entirely embarrassed by this show of affection. He wondered how that would change with the arrival of the maid.

Perhaps he would have to make the maid accept this and live with it. Have her keep their secret. It certainly would make their lives less stressful if she were already aware.

"You know, Ace, I still do not understand your affections for me as well as I feel I should," Marco said suddenly. "You call yourself an insatiable fiend and yet you never pressure me for fulfilment as I expected a demon of your sort would. Only when we have been in bed with one another did you seem changed from a kind and generous Master into something more sinister."

Lord Portgas pursed his lips. "You are worried about a darker side of me emerging should we share the bedchamber upstairs."

"It is not that I am afraid of you. I am just curious…" Marco trailed off, his eyes cast down to the wood grain of the oak table. "I am curious how long you will want me should you find out that I don't meet your needs."

Lord Portgas' entire body stiffened and he found himself unable to move, his feet stuck to the ground. He wanted to get up and comfort Marco, but the invisible mud had him bogged down.

His head was clearing; he was coming out of his libido-induced fog. What had he been thinking, asking Marco to share his quarters? There would be undeniable temptation. He could not let himself have Marco completely. If he did…there was a very real chance that he would lose interest in the man, as he had with all of his previous conquests that he'd managed to bed.

He didn't want that happening, ever. He had never felt so connected to anyone before, so accepted. Marco knew what he was and didn't flee or try to destroy him. His valet just continued to serve him as best he could. The lord fancied their bond, for it was more than the bond of two lovers.

"You more than 'meet my needs,' Marco. I don't want to lose you," Lord Portgas murmured. "I'll have to be careful."

Marco blinked and stretched his lips into a thin line across his face. "I'll have to trust you, then."

Lord Portgas' eyes widened. "You don't already trust me?"

"Trust you? I trust you implicitly as a Master to me, my Lord. I don't yet trust you as a…lover, Ace." Marco shifted in his seat, redness returning unbidden to his cheeks once more. "When you and I have known each other sufficiently in that way, perhaps by then I will trust you with everything that I am."

Lord Portgas inclined his head in understanding and folded his arms in front of him on the table. Marco rose, reaching for first his plate and then the lord's. Lord Portgas let Marco clear off the table, all the while hoping this would be the last time Marco would have to do so.

When Marco returned, out of tasks that could be done, the lord rose from his chair and grabbed Marco's upper arm in a light hold. Marco's eyes flicked over his face and down to their connection, silently asking him what he wanted.

"It is already getting dark," Lord Portgas whispered, looking out the large windows behind them. The sun was dipping below the horizon and the shadows of the trees outside in the estate's garden were reaching for the manor's doors. "We should go upstairs. There's a candle on the table there."

Marco nodded stiffly and followed the lord up, letting himself be led. In his hands was a large candle cradled in a smooth stone dish, which he had lit with a match. Its wick looked nearly drowned in wax or broken off, Marco did not know. He would have to find something else to provide them some light in less than an hour's time.

At the top of the stairs he felt Lord Portgas' fingers dance on his arm before seizing his free hand. Touch was still something rather foreign to Marco, yet the lord was someone he enjoyed being close to. The warmth of his smile in the flickering candlelight and the heat of his skin against his own was comforting in a way Marco hadn't experienced before.

He felt the lord's fingers brush against his wrist, the hand that held the candle securely. Then the lord took the candle from him and brought the flame to other wicks in the room, lighting candles that Marco did not know were upstairs. The light allowed Marco to clearly see Lord Portgas' true intent. He watched as the lord's hands went to his chest, skimming over the fabric that concealed him.

Those hands were firm and steady, and knew what they wanted.

The vest was peeled away, buttons all but wrenched from their respective holes. Marco watched, silently, as Lord Portgas stripped off his shirt and revealed his torso, his intermittent breathing made harsher by the candlelight that played off of his abdomen, disappearing one moment only to reappear in a flicker the next.

"Marco, come," the lord commanded playfully.

Marco felt his heart pick up as he brought himself to his lord's side, his hands reaching up to loosen his shirt only to find his wrists grasped and his palms on burning flesh. Lord Portgas took his hands and ran them down the length of his body, groaning when they dipped downwards to a part of him that was still clothed. "Marco."

"Ace," Marco whispered back with the slightest hint of burden in his tone. The effect of his address was almost immediate, with the lord pushing against him until they were sprawled out on the lord's bed, one under the other. He found Lord Portgas' hungry lips brushing his neck, across his stubble and down to his collarbone, and then finally to where his skin disappeared under fabric.

He was soon reminded that the lord was not a patient man in the bedroom.

His clothes were torn from his body with promises of obtaining new, better ones and more murmured promises of a pleasure unlike any Marco had experienced thus far. With a start he realized what the lord meant by that, his fingers deftly loosening the ties that held up his pants.

A hand grasped him and he curled with his head thrown back against a pillow. He grit his teeth and made nary a sound as a warm wetness welcomed him through the gates of passion.

He squirmed, toes curling in his woollen socks, the fabric of his pants chaffing slightly against his inner thighs. It only served to make the experience more pleasurable, but his thoughts of pleasure momentarily left him when he felt the lord reach up and snatch a hand from his side. His arm was pulled down, and with a start he found his fingers brushing through thick, dark hair. It had the same softness as that of a newborn foal's hide.

He recognized what it was that the lord was allowing him.

He groaned aloud. It was the act, of course, but it was not just the feeling of having himself sucked and pampered that caused this outburst from his throat. It was more the control the lord allowed him, the hand in his dark, luxurious hair that did it for Marco. Being able to grasp the lord's hair to intensify or still his movements, this unfamiliar power over a nobleman, was truly erotic for Marco. He pushed the lord's mouth down on him until he felt the other choke and then relented, relishing in the control but careful not to abuse it.

It reminded him of his past life where he had in his grasp the power to do what he wanted.

He repeated and repeated until he was certain he would not be able to contain himself.

Marco finished in the other's mouth, a hot flash coming over him when he realized what he'd done, whom he'd defiled. But, as always, it was the lord's grin that reassured him first, his teeth gleaming in the candlelight and looking even whiter than before.

"Thank you, Marco," Lord Portgas said, settling on his elbows, half perched on the bed and half off of it, his feet dangling over the end.

Marco shook his head wildly, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a palm. "N-No, it is I that should be thanking you," he stuttered hoarsely. His tone wavered along with his body, even as the lord straightened so that Marco could catch a glimpse of his open pants and engorged member.

It glimmered, drops of the lord's essence falling from the tip to the bed or down the underside of his length, making a visible trail down towards the restraining cloth.

"If there is but one thing you ought know about me, it is that I derive pleasure from my lover. You orgasmed beautifully."

Marco flushed at the outright bluntness of the lord and lay back against the silken bed sheets, feeling himself swell once more even though he'd just had his burden lifted from him. The sheets moved against him, reminding him he was incredibly sensitive now. Lord Portgas climbed up his body and lay down alongside him, tilting his chin upwards to nip and lick at the patch of skin between his valet's jaw and ear.

Never. Never had anyone given him pleasure this way. Never had anyone appreciated him this much. Never had anyone loved him like this.

"Take me," Marco whispered. "Please."

He felt the lord stiffen next to him, and the hand that had wandered to his bare chest to caress him still became a heavy weight.

"Marco…I cannot do that."

Marco turned his head and pressed a dry kiss to Lord Portgas' forehead, feeling the furrow of his brow between his lips. "Please," he whispered urgently. "I insist…I know this is what you want, what you expect of me, and I'm more than ready to give myself to you. In this way you can earn my trust as a…lover. Through experience."

Lord Portgas cringed as his instincts tried to take precedence. His limbs trembled and his chest began to burn like a fire had been lit on top of his pectorals. Oh, how badly he wanted to hold Marco down and have his way with the man. He'd dreamed of it often enough, enacted it with his hands on more than one occasion. Woke to evidence of his lurid dreams. Now Marco, hot and bothered with all of his worries taken off his shoulders, wanted him to do just that.

He knew his valet wasn't thinking clearly, sailing through post-orgasmic fog, and despite wanting to follow his lead Lord Portgas dropped anchor. Marco had him in his hands and was rubbing his juices all down his length, giving him playful squeezes and running his nails along the area at the base of his shaft. Then, below that, teasing him.

Coercing him to act in a way that Lord Portgas had only ever fantasized about.

He dug his fingernails into his palms harshly enough to cause indents in his skin and snapped himself back to the reality. He could not take the man because he would immediately lose interest. The prize would be taken, and after that there would be nothing left to take. That was the simplest explanation. That he could not have Marco because he was an incubus programed to seek sexual fulfilment from one before moving on to another seemed too harsh an explanation to give his valet.

"If you wish…I will do the deed to you."

Lord Portgas gasped and the fingers around his member began to stroke him faster. Would it work that way? Never had the lord bedded a man before, and never had he been the one to bottom, even with the ladies. Would his demonic rules of play not apply should Marco dominate him?

Would he still love his Marco come morning?

He thought long and hard about that question, and came to the conclusion that it was too much of a risk, even for him, to take.

"No." He mumbled this and it fell on deaf ears. "No," he repeated, more forcefully. "I cannot. We cannot. It…" he squeezed his eyes shut in the dark. He did not want to say impossible. "…It is not the right time. It is too soon."

Marco looked horrified in the candlelight. "M-my Lord, I didn't m-mean to push you."

"It is not that, Marco, and please, don't think you've done wrong in anything." The lord gave him a reassuring smile and said, jokingly, "You have always been admirable with your handiwork. In fact I don't think I have told you enough how I've appreciated your obvious talents."

The corners of Marco's mouth lifted from their frown and he gave the lord a punishing squeeze before they continued their tryst, tongues lashing one another with an absence of words and a twisting of emotions.

-oOo-

Lord Eustass sat in his ruined parlour, looking through a broken window at the morning sunrise lighting up his fields. His other rooms on the main floor had similar deficits. That beast of Dr. Trafalgar's had run amuck everywhere it seemed in its search for its master.

He heard a shuffling and drew a pistol from his belt, springing to his feet and pointing it at the offending sound. The one who disturbed his peace shrunk back as if actually shot, body crippling.

The lord lowered his pistol slowly, pointing it instead at the floor by the demon's feet. "You have finally returned…"

His servant said nothing, only bowed his helmed head at the lord.

"He came by, you know. Then his beast mucked the place up. Slaughtered my goddamn chickens, too."

"I saw the evidence," Killer said dryly, staring straight at Lord Eustass. Likely he had already accessed the damage. "I shall…fix the manor up. And we will have to get more chickens."

"That you will do. But not now. And forget the goddamn chickens. Right now I need your opinion on the doctor. I fear…what you said has come true," Lord Eustass confessed. He broke eye contact with Killer and folded his arms across his chest, looking every bit like a ruling aristocrat mulling over a financial decision of the courts. "It bothers me."

"I imagine it does, Master." Lord Eustass heard a sigh rise up through the metal helm, a sharp piercing whistle as the air was forced through the metal grates. "He is intelligent and strong. I was struck down by his sword. It was only through another's kindness that I managed to live, escape, and come back here."

Lord Eustass sighed and gestured to the chair across from the one he had been lounging in. He dropped down into the chair again while Killer perched on the edge of the seat designated by his master. "I have been sitting here all morning, thinking of him. Thinking of what I might do to him when he shows his face here next. I cannot think hateful things. I cannot even say how I would like to wring his neck without –without–"

Here the lord keeled forward and sputtered curses, beads of sweat bunching on his brow. Killer watched him wordlessly until Lord Eustass shook his head and sat deeply in the chair, at ease once more.

"I have never been so angered in my life," the lord growled lowly. Killer did not miss the dangerous undercurrent to his tone. His master wanted to kill something, or rather, someone.

"Regardless, he is not such a bad sort," Killer whispered. Lord Eustass' neck snapped, his head had turned Killer's way that quickly. "He, with the help of another, saved my life when he could have just as easily left me to die by the effects of his blade."

"Are you saying you like that bloodsucker?" Lord Eustass hissed.

"Don't you?"

The challenge did not go ignored, but Lord Eustass did not react violently to the fiery probe. The lord got to his feet, unable to stand sitting any longer, and much like before he began pacing the room, pensive and uncertain.

"I tried to take ownership of him," the lord divulged. "But my plot went horribly. He escaped on his giant white horse…"

"That was no horse," Killer said. "That was a shapeshifter under his command, and I think Big White would have been able to kill me easily in my current condition. I have been weakened, yet my wound has healed…but it is only because of another's sacrifice. I am…indebted to that household."

Lord Eustass' eyes narrowed, and he tensed when he heard a flapping of wings.

"That bird…"

Killer held out his arm and a great snowy bird landed upon it, staring him straight in the eyes with a sort of peevishness that made Lord Eustass crave smoked goose.

"That bird."

"He made sure I got back here safely, without the Big White's teeth snapping my neck. I also owe him my life."

Lord Eustass could feel his face heating. "That damn bird belongs to Trafalgar; what the hell are you doing with it?"

"He is, again, not such a bad sort. Bird or man." Killer lowered his arm gradually and the giant bird moved upwards to perch on his shoulder, wings tucked flush against his sides. "This is Penguin."

Lord Eustass narrowed his eyes. He did, in all actuality, remember the bird's name from their first meeting. "Yes, I do remember that much," he hissed, more to himself than to his boggart. The bird cocked its head at him, as if hearing his mutterings.

He then glared fully at his traitorous creature and asked, "But why would you bring it here, Killer? I have half a mind to shoot it, de-feather it, and cook it. Then I would be left to make the decision of whether to send it back to Trafalgar or eat it myself…actually, that's not a hard decision at all."

"Please Master…instead of hurting Penguin, use him to deliver a message…"

Lord Eustass' shoulders slumped. "What?"

"Penguin says he'll gladly take a letter back to Trafalgar."

"What!?"

Penguin tucked his head under one of his wings, looking like he was going to take a nap. Then the lord figured it out. Penguin was muffling his birdy laughter.

"The damn bird's mocking me!"

"No; he is merely preening his feathers."

"I know what I saw! Besides, there's no way in hell I'm writing Trafalgar a fucking love letter like some fool poet."

Killer and Penguin both stilled.

"A love letter?" Killer questioned for the both of them.

Lord Eustass flushed and sat himself down in his chair, adjusting the pistol hooked into his belt so it wouldn't dig into his thigh. "Take the damn bird away before I use it to gauge how good my aim is today."

"He is the one that saved my life."

"I find that hard to believe," Lord Eustass spat. "Kill him."

"I cannot! Even if it is you who orders me, it is against my honour…"

Lord Eustass snarled in anger and left the room, unable to stand the sight of either the bird of white or his disobedient servant. He should have never sent Killer out to destroy Trafalgar. Somehow the man, or rather, the man's beasts, had corrupted his servant. Even when Trafalgar wasn't presently with them it was he that was winning every battle.

The thought pinched his pride into a tiny, condensed ball of shame.

He was going to severely injure Trafalgar for this. The cunning bastard.

He slumped against the nearest wall, his knees buckling. The sound of his body sliding down to the floor was further salt in the gaping wound Trafalgar had left behind.

"Eventually you will have to reconcile." Lord Eustass fought to control the feeling of nausea he incurred from imagining harm coming to the vampire, looking up with blurry eyes at his boggart sans bird. "Separating is not good for your health. Penguin, he knows more about these things than I, and his council has been invaluable."

Lord Eustass slammed a hand against the wall he was slouched beside, using it to help himself get back into a standing position. "The bird talks now, hmm?"

"I doubt he shall talk to you, but yes, he has spoken to me in a tongue we both know."

Lord Eustass snorted. This was idiocy. His boggart had been messed with by the doctor, that much he suspected. Still, he would humour Killer. "Then what does this bird recommend?"

"That you write him and arrange a meeting to discuss your mutual interests."

Lord Eustass threw his head back and laughed grimly. The sound echoed down the hall, twisting and turning before dissipating and leaving behind cold air that clung to Killer's skin.

"After what I have done to him, I doubt he shall be very happy to receive a summons from me."

"What is it that you did to him to make the Big White so furious that he would try to destroy this place?"

"Oh, Penguin doesn't know?" hissed the lord, eyes gleaming with mirth.

"Penguin has been with me since my departure from Trafalgar's estate, with one exception, and that was to trick the Big White beast into turning around so he would not scent me. In fact, that must have been before he rampaged in this place…"

Lord Eustass smirked and cracked his knuckles. So the bird knew nothing. If he had known what his master had suffered Lord Eustass knew he'd be facing a different feathered beast than the docile one he could see hiding up in the rafters above them.

"Tell the bird to come down. I know just what I shall write to dear Trafalgar…"

-oOo-

Dr. Trafalgar had, initially, been furious.

It took a lot to work him into a state, and never before had he felt so betrayed by one he considered his ally.

Trafalgar sat in his favourite armchair, one leg crossed over the other and Shachi standing in front of him, looking chastened. "You honestly didn't think it a bad idea?"

Shachi shook his head wildly, his spiked hair jumbling into a mess under his hat. "He was so weak, Master. I didn't think it would be possible that he would even be able to walk, so I left him to his lonesome…I didn't know Penguin would come back and free him from the cuffs, honest. I don't even know why he would bother."

Trafalgar sighed heavily. "Penguin must have his reasons. He has disappointed me, and for now I will stay wary of him until he explains his actions."

Shachi dropped his head sadly and nodded. "Would you like a glass to settle your stomach?"

"Please."

Trafalgar watched his boggart busy himself in the kitchen. The day he returned home looking mugged by beggars and pulled by his ankle through the mud behind a horse he had set on Shachi like a hound to a hare, not knowing the full story of the enemy boggart's escape. He had thought Shachi incompetent and a fool. Now he knew that it had been Penguin who'd lied to Bepo outright about the boggart's escape. In fact the boggart known as Killer had likely been hiding in the grass while Penguin lied for him.

It had been humiliating for Bepo when he realized the truth.

Trafalgar snickered to himself upon remembrance of Bepo's furred face and reached towards the nearest side table. He grasped cold stone, harder than any metal object forged by blacksmiths and deemed inescapable by even the king's prison guards. They were used to imprison not just the king's enemies but demons waiting for execution. They were the strongest of the strongholds the king had at his disposal, and Trafalgar had painstakingly acquired a set of them at a price that made his blood boil even now. "I never knew Penguin could so easily pick the locks of a pair of seastone cuffs. He has many hidden talents he has kept from me. I imagine he learned how to do it when he was the pet of Sengoku, the Duke of Marineford."

Shachi returned with his usual glass of red, setting it gently on the side table.

"It has been more than a day since the escape," Trafalgar mused to himself. "Yet I know with certainty where Penguin is. He has to be with Lord Eustass and the boggart. But what he hopes to accomplish I cannot yet determine…"

"…Master, Penguin told me once he was concerned for your sake. He told me that from the first encounter he had witnessed between you and Lord Eustass he had felt something extraordinary would develop. He thinks…well, he thinks you two were predestined. O-or some such nonsense."

Trafalgar glared, his anger peaking once more. "Penguin is no goddamned lovebird. He may be the shade of a dove but he is not so innocent if he thought it appropriate to tamper with the affairs of his Master."

Shachi held his tongue from then onwards.

Eventually Trafalgar rose from his chair and retired to his bedchamber, perching himself on the edge of the bed. Not even a minute passed in the dark before he was up and moving once more. Though he had no need to light a candle he struck a match and brought a tiny flame to life, tossing the fire on top of the nearest wick and bringing the candle to his bedside table. It was here that he noticed the letter sitting on the bed to the left of where he'd previously been sitting.

His nostrils flared and he picked up the letter, turning it around in his hands. He could see the wax seal without the light from the candle; it seemed to have a backlight of its own. The bright red wax glimmered and taunted him. Lord Eustass.

He dangled the edge of the envelope over his burning flame, watching as the smoke increased in volume but the fire didn't catch. It danced around the edge of the paper, splitting in two try to brown it. For some reason this curbed Trafalgar's anger and he withdrew the letter so it was out of the reach of the flame. He brought the corner to eyelevel and examined it. The paper had not even browned.

There was some sort of weak magic on it. He knew it was not Lord Eustass' doing, and he fancied only one being that could have placed the letter upon his bed and departed without any further trace.

He broke the wax seal before he contemplated much more, not entirely conscious of what he was doing. He took out the folded letter, dimly noticing the precision with which the paper had been divided up into three sections. Surely Lord Eustass didn't take such care with his letters and could do no better with his own home?

He snickered as he unfolded it to reveal fancy scrawl and a message in as few words as he had ever received by mail. With a frown he brought it up to read properly.

Trafalgar,

Want to go for a ride?

Meet me at the Baterilla Bridge to the south tomorrow at noon. Bring your bear and I swear I'll shoot it.

Lord Eustass

He furrowed his brow momentarily, wondering just what the lord expected. Then he understood. He was not to bring a horse. The lord was implying something quite to the contrary.

He allowed himself to laugh at the rather unexpected innuendo before lapsing into another bout of silent anger. How dare Lord Eustass even send him mail! The man deserved to be stood up, left all by his lonesome on the bridge. In fact, if he weren't so worried about Lord Eustass' capacity for violence and his love of pistols he'd send Bepo to meet the demon.

He forced himself to remain calm, to hinder his active imagination. Yet it was already conjuring up various scenarios in which he would humiliate and annihilate the lord. No, he would not let his mind wander around aimlessly. Instead he focussed on what he knew would be inevitable. They would have yet another meeting. This time, however, Trafalgar would control the variables.

He eyed up his nodachi, the blade that banished demons, leaning against the wall nearest his bed. Then he smiled.

He knew how this story would end.