#adamantly

“Master Cassiel wishes to see you.” Emmeline says as she passes Benjy in the hallway.

“Really?” He says, covering his mouth in mock shock and turning around to face her as he walks backwards.

“You mean like he does, at this same time every single day?”

“Oh sod off.” Em says with a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I dunno, Benjy. It sounded a bit...pressing.”

“Probably can’t find his garters again.” Benjy jokes easily, not wanting Emmeline to sense the swoop of worry that’s taking over his stomach.

“Thanks for telling me, Em.” 

“Any time.” She says, her eyes lingering on him. “Erm, maybe later, if you’re free-”

“I won’t be.” Benjy says with a smile, turning around to walk down the corridor towards the servant’s staircase. “You know how it is, darling.”

Em says something back but Benjy doesn’t pause to listen, taking the steps two at a time. What the devil was going on?

Benjy knocks once on his door, entering without waiting to be granted proper entry. There was no use-he’d known Cassiel his entire life and started formally training to be his Valet at the age of twelve. They kept no secrets.

At least, Cassiel kept no secrets from Benjy, and Benjy pretended the same could be said for himself.

“Cass?” He calls, stopping short when he sees him. He was in his undershirt and riding breeches that fit rather tight to his form. He was kicking at the heel of one of his knee high riding boots with the toe of the other. Benjy’s heart umps into his throat as his stomach spikes in arousal despite itself.

He was sick, desperately sick. So incredibly sick to be thinking about the Duke this way and yet, he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself. All he can do is keep them deep down inside him and hope, someday, he can repent.

He clears his throat, forcing himself to meet Cass’s eyes-and only his eyes. Benjy grew up looking into those eyes-and sometimes, when it’s late at night and he’s lonely, he dreams of a world where they’re truly the last thing he sees every night.

“You wanted to see me....sir?”

It was hard to be formal with him, knowing him as well as he did, but Benjy has to be. He has to keep himself in check, remember his place. He kneels,  swatting Cass’s foot away from his other boot.

“You couldn’t have waited five minutes for me?” Benjy teases lightly, trying to get a feel for Cassiel’s true mood. He’d always been hard to read, even as a child, but Benjy prided himself in knowing the nuances as well as anyone could.

“What’s bothering you, eh? Is it really serious enough to ruin these boots?” 

Benjy starts deftly untying his boot laces, only stopping to glance up at his best friend.

“Or are you keen on keeping it to yourself? Let me know, I suppose, I can join you in make believe if that’s what you’re after?”