Bold

"If I should be so bold

I'd ask you to hold my heart in your hand"

 

It was one of Wonwoo's duties.

On those decadent, colourful days, where the air was thick with summer and permeated with a floral perfume. His master would call him into the Yellow Room, in which he sat, legs crossed, the thin stem of a glass perched between his long, ivory fingers. The drink was set on the sideboard as Wonwoo entered, the chime of glass on glass, and his master rose with all the grace of royalty.

Wonwoo didn't have to ask what he was there for. It was always the same, in the summer at least, when gatherings and balls were at their height of popularity. The servant would hold out his gracious palm and his master would coil into it a necklace, cool to the touch, made of pure gold links. This particular necklace held a strong significance for his master- it signified his status as a member of the nobility, signified his wealth with it's carat and weight, signified that his master was the utmost embodiment of the phrase 'fashionable young man'.

And it was Wonwoo's job to warm it.

The master would be requiring it that night- he was to attend a gathering put on by one Duchess or another- and overnight the necklace had cooled on the nightstand to an almost unbearable temperature; certainly not one that his master should have had to withstand. Wonwoo's duty was to clasp the necklace around his own neck and keep it there as he went about his work for the day, the heat of his skin slowly entering each link, until he was required to fasten it back around his master's cool throat at six o'clock that evening.

The servant did his duty willingly and thankfully. He worshipped each moment the gold rested at his neck, heavy and constant, a spine-tingling reminder of his master. All day, he thought about him. Every movement Wonwoo made shifted the necklace over his collarbone, and the slide of precious metal against his skin sent his head spinning. Images flashed in his mind: his handsome master, striding through the crowds of people and colours, gold at his throat- the very same gold that was previously slung around Wonwoo's neck, warmed with the slow heat of his own body.

It was almost possessive, in a way.

Wonwoo dreamt, in his attic bed, about these gatherings. His master, tall and sophisticated, dancing with fashionable young ladies in silk gowns and pearls. The music would alter, they would move closer, and Wonwoo's faint scent would be laced with his master's French cologne, barely detectable underneath the shimmer of the links. Because of this necklace, Wonwoo could be part of his master, could be closer to him than he ever thought possible, an omnipresent being. This is what drove him mad with desire.

He'd lie there, while his master was out, burning for him. Wonwoo's body ached with a fire that he tried so hard to suppress, a heady mixture of want and need tingling down his veins. He felt the necklace's absence like a hole in his heart, pressed his fingers to where the gold had previously laid, tried desperately to remember the softness of the skin on master's neck under his fingertips as he fastened the clasp earlier that evening. Wonwoo felt like he was drowning. It was these times and these times only that he allowed himself to utter his master's name, lips forming the word "Mingyu" over and over again, choked out, whispered, hissed, groaned.

The carriage arrived back when the moon was at it's highest, and Wonwoo always stopped to listen, feeling his master's presence like an itch at the back of his neck. He followed the man's every action in his mind. Wonwoo saw him carefully remove his rings, then the necklace, and set them on the nightstand. He slipped out of his clothes, revealing miles of unblemished skin just right to be mapped and traced by Wonwoo's own fingers, before sliding into bed, the way he always did.

It was these moments that Wonwoo's love seized him suddenly, and his skin would crawl with just how much he wanted to sneak through the halls and join his master. Wonwoo wasn't well-educated. He could read and write, but he had no knowledge of biology or history. He knew neither the workings of the heart nor the great romances throughout the ages- Alexander and Hephaestion, Hadrian and Antinous. But he did know what love felt like to him, right at that present moment. It felt important, it felt like heat high on his brow and his cheeks and sounded simultaneously like soft sighs and the loudest of shouts. 

Wonwoo was in love with his master, and one night, the fire became unbearable.

He got up.

His neck burned with the absence of gold, his fingers ached with the desire to touch and worship, to coil the links between them and skim over ivory skin. Half-blinded with sheer need, Wonwoo padded out of his room.

The trip from the servants quarters to the master bedroom was brief, blurred and horrible, and suddenly Wonwoo was stood outside his master's door with no real plan of what to do once he got inside. He eased open the door with a shaking hand, breath burning in his lungs as he tried not to exhale lest the noise cause his master to wake. The sight inside was paradisiacal.

The climbing moon hovered on the windowpane, casting perfect beams of light across the room and over the bed. The sheets were folded and tangled, and had either slipped or been pushed down leaving an a delicious expanse of chest exposed. His masters dark locks formed a halo on the pillow, framing his strong features delicately and exquisitely, and Wonwoo was left open-mouthed in the doorway wondering just how much his master's beauty would change the world.

He stepped forward.

Wonwoo's eyes darted to the nightstand, and sure enough, there was the gilded chain. Unable to stop himself, the servant made his way over, just to touch it. His teeth sunk into his lower lip. He was only a few feet away from his master's sleeping form, and Wonwoo was slowly losing his mind.

He reached out into the shadows, focused solely on the starlight glint of gold until his fingers brushed upon the smooth surface. It was cooling even now, and Wonwoo felt it's absence more than ever. His heart ached.

There was a rustle of linen as his master stirred, and Wonwoo's heart leapt into his throat. Muscles seizing in fear, he glanced in the direction of the bed.

His master shifted, leg kicking out from under the blankets, before settling again. Wonwoo swallowed thickly. The only thing keeping his masters dignity was the thin sheets draped over his midriff, silver light spilling onto his chest and exposed thigh, and a shiver jolted the servants body from head to toe.

He was so close.

Heat rose in the pit of his stomach, and he found that he couldn't look away. His master looked so... defenceless, innocent, a complete parallel to his careful, guarded persona he adopted while awake. The possessiveness that came with the necklace, that came with the knowledge that he shared something with his master, rose and grew into something more. A strange delusion of power came upon him. He could actually do something here- he was, in a way, in the position of authority.

Now, if Wonwoo was thinking technically and realistically, any action that he could possibly carry out in this situation (other than promptly spinning on his heel and leaving the room) would no doubt land him in trouble. But he wasn't thinking realistically- he was tired and delirious and aching with desire, and that seemed to render him practically fearless to do whatever he pleased.

Wonwoo wasn't quite sure what possessed him, but one minute he was hovering, hesitating, over by the nightstand, and he next he was looming over his master's sleeping figure, the mattress of the bed pressing against his shins. He could hear his masters slow, sleepy breaths, detect the subtle rise and fall of his chest, notice the way his eyes moved behind their lids. Every single minuscule detail was laid out for him to behold, to marvel at, to touch.

Adrenaline pounded in his veins. He lowered a trembling hand to his master's lips and shivered as his fingertip touched the bow ever-so-gently. He traced the curve of his sleepy smile, touch light and careful. The rose-coloured flesh was soft, so soft, and Wonwoo wanted more.

He sank down until he was perched on the edge of the bed, and allowed his fingertip to trail worshipfully down the line of his master's jaw. Wonwoo hummed. The man was so perfect like this, so powerless and defenceless. He could do anything so long as his master didn't wake up and catch him.

His left hand reached up for his master's hair, smoothing over the silken strands, and Wonwoo couldn't hold back any longer. All the days spent with the gold chain looped around his throat, all the evenings spent burning with desire in his cold single bed, culminated in this one, euphoric moment.

Wonwoo reached down and pressed his lips against his master's.

His mind reeled, and he curled his fists into the bedsheets to ground himself. The man's lips were still against his, but yielded gorgeously under the pressure, shockingly soft and beautifully formed. Wonwoo trapped a moan in the back of his throat.

His master started to stir, but Wonwoo was too far gone now. He broke the kiss only to capture the man's lips again, one hand resting on his master's chest and the other at his neck. Wonwoo kissed him carefully, slowly, but wasn't for a second hesitant, and it was perhaps testimony to how delirious he really was that he didn't realise the lips beneath his were starting to respond until a hand brushed over his hip.

Wonwoo almost jumped in surprise, but any noise he would've made was swallowed as his master tilted his head, parting his lips to allow the servant's lower lip to fall in between.

Warm hands curled over his hips, and Wonwoo wasn't even sure if his master knew who he was, but at that moment he found he really couldn't care less. His fingers wound into his master's hair, and he desperately hoped that his inexperience wasn't glaringly obvious as the man his lower lip. The scrape of teeth caused heat to arc down his spine, and his rationality to slip into oblivion.

They broke the embrace for oxygen, briefly, fleetingly, and his master barely managed to mumble out a "What-" before Wonwoo swooped back down again.

This kiss was rougher than the last, open mouthed and languid, and his master's fingertips dug almost painfully into his hipbones. He still smelled like expensive cologne and fancy perfume, and Wonwoo pressed his body closer in an attempt to get rid of this. The man was his now. Even if he didn't realise it.

To make his point known, Wonwoo dug his fingernails into his master's scalp, and was rewarded with a low, stifled moan.

The sound cut through his hazy mind like an arrow, and what he was doing was suddenly brought into startling clarity. Wonwoo was instantly seized with fear. He was almost certainly dead, or as good as, if his master found out it was his servant on top of him. He had to somehow stop the man from opening his eyes, but he wasn't sure how.

His lapse in concentration had meant that his master had broken the kiss, and once Wonwoo realised this he quickly moved his head down to press his mouth against the man's shoulder, out of his eye line. Heart pounding in his chest, Wonwoo did the first thing he thought of.

"This is a dream," He whispered lowly, head turned so his lips brushed against his master's ear with each syllable, "You're dreaming."

The man hummed, a mumbled "Okay," spilling out of his lips, and with a sigh of relief Wonwoo realised that his master was still half-asleep. He was safe, for now.

The abject danger slowly replacing any other sensation, Wonwoo pressed a final few kisses against his master's lips, committing their touch to memory. He eased out of the embrace, the man's hands slipping off his hips to rest against the sheets once again. Wonwoo turned away before his master could see his face.

He left the room without looking back.
 

~*~*~
 

Wonwoo supposed it was a testimony to his professionalism that he managed to walk into the Yellow Room without tripping over his own feet the next day.

It was particularly hot that morning, and he felt the heat on his brow as he faced his master with what he hoped was a vacant, waiting expression. The man stood up and set his drink down. The sound of glass on glass made Wonwoo jump.

"I shall be requiring your services again today."

Wonwoo held out his hand.

"You will be needed again at six sharp," His master's fingers brushed his hand as the gold was pooled into it. Something was different, however; he felt something else fall into his waiting palm alongside the necklace. Wonwoo refrained from looking up. "Do you understand?"

"Certainly, Sir." His voice wavered, and he felt a blush rise high on his cheeks. Without another word, Wonwoo bowed and left the room.

Once safely outside, the servant pressed his free hand to his sweating brow, his burning cheeks, and finally over his erratic heartbeat. He began making his way to the kitchens, letting the necklace dangle from between his fingers as he straightened it out. As he did so, a scrap of notepaper fluttered to the floor, stopping him in his tracks.

Frowning, he bent to pick it up. It was folded meticulously, small and neat, and Wonwoo unfurled it with shaking fingers.

He gasped out loud at the cursive script contained within.
 

'Don't think for a minute that I wasn't aware it was you.
Report to my room tonight.
Oh, and I would prefer if you were in a similar state of undress as I.

That's an order.'

FIN.

---

AN: 

Based loosely off the Carol Ann Duffy poem 'Warming Her Pearls'
Also inspired by Oscar Wilde's 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' and EM Forster's 'Maurice'
(I really just wanted to write something set in 1800's Britain...)

IMPORTANT:
This is my first upload on here since last year, and there is a reason for that.
I'm constantly busy with school/tests/essays/exams, so the writing process has slowed down A LOT (I only get a few hours a week- this particular oneshot has taken me over 3 weeks to do)
So, I apologise, but you won't be getting another of these any time soon. I have really important exams in a few weeks, and this is merely a hobby.

I'll try as hard as I possibly can to not keep you guys waiting for quite so long as last time, though ^_^;;