#oh and a lot of other spoons are made of pewter!

[otomescriptdoctor]

Masking - Chapter 4

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27939147/chapters/68499806 Kei’s voice breaks your concentration. “I couldn’t help but overhear some of the things you were saying. I was a bit surprised at the breadth of your knowledge.” Your throat is almost painfully dry, being so affected by his scent just being everywhere around you.

Just have to keep calm, you tell yourself. You turn around to face him, saying, “What a lovely place.” Your eyes flit to a keypad on this side of the door, including a motion sensor. The lock must have been automatic. That’s a rather serious setup, and you realize that you likely have no escape route here. This is the top floor after all. And you’re not exactly equipped to break out of plate glass windows and rappel down a building. This means you’re at Kei’s mercy. Shit. Shit. Shit.

It takes everything to keep your face a neutral slate, and you watch him as he goes to casually grab a glass from his cabinet, filling it with water and taking a drink. Kei watches you in turn, with amusement. You know your face hasn’t broken out in panic, but wonder if perhaps he’s figured it out some other way.

“You can’t be too careful about security in my line of work. Sorry to scare you.” He almost sounded apologetic. Almost.

“Scare me? You’re… not going to lock me up in here, are you?” Fear creeps into your voice, despite your best efforts.

Kei laughs, “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“This is a lot of space for just one person.”

“Well, I invite my close friends, Kazuomi and Yuzu, sometimes. But...I don’t often have women over.”

“You know, no one believes men when they say things like that.” You keep walking around the lounge, looking for any other paths of escape. Kei laughs, “You’re surprisingly...Actually, nevermind, it’s not that much of a surprise.” His piercing, darkened gaze grips you. “You’re tough.”

You daintily sit down on the large sofa, and watch Kei for a while instead. He returns to the kitchen area, and grabs two small glasses, a tall green bottle, and brings over a tray with an odd spoon and a sugar bowl.

Kei sighs, as he sets the tray down on the coffee table and sits on the adjacent loveseat. He loosens his scarf just a bit, and runs his hands through his hair.

“I wish I could hire a full staff for afternoon tea, but… with so many people discussing possible investments, I can’t hire just anyone. It’s all about...trust.”

This was not what you’d expected. “I’m sure,” you offer sympathetically.

“I’m always understaffed when I host afternoon tea outside of England. You ended up helping me out this time around, but I really ought to come up with a better solution.”

He picks up the unfamiliar deep green bottle. You’ve never seen this before.

“What’s this?” you ask.

“Absinthe. It’s an anise-flavored spirit. It’s very well known in Europe. It has a distinctive taste. People either like it or they hate it.” He continues, in a lower tone, as he swirls the liquid in the bottle meditatively, “I chose it for you because you have piqued my curiosity. To tell you the truth, I only bring out the absinthe if I’m with someone I’m certain will enjoy it.”

Anise-flavored? Oh, the madeleines were anise-flavored, weren’t they, you think. Licorice is a very polarizing flavor. That explains why the bottle is nearly full, then. Your heart flutters at his gesture, even knowing it’s likely a ploy just to make you feel special.

“There’s something very appealing about a man who can sate a woman’s curiosity.”

You’ve never had absinthe before. You remember hearing about it when studying abroad. The green fairy. Rumored to be hallucinogenic, but it’s probably just a strong liquor. Made with wormwood, you think. You don’t typically accept drinks from targets while on the job, and there’s no telling what he could slip in there. ‘Never accept drinks from the bad guy,’ that’s literally secret agent 101.

Alpha wouldn’t do that to us.

Kei places the curious spoon on his glass. It’s shaped like a leaf, and perforated with tiny holes.

“And what’s that?” Curiosity is getting the better of you tonight. “Les cuilleries, an absinthe spoon essentially. You use it when drinking absinthe for the preparation. You place a cube of sugar on the spoon and pour the absinthe over it.” He cracks open the lid and the licorice-y scent wafts out, intermingling with his natural Alpha scent. He pours a little absinthe into both glasses. He opens the pewter sugar bowl, and delicately uses the tongs to dip a sugar cube into the green liquid before setting it on top of the pierced area of the spoon. Then he strikes a match to light it on fire. You both watch the flame flicker and caramelize the sugar for a few moments before he dips the spoon into the absinthe and swirls it, starting a controlled burn inside the glass. He repeats this process for your glass. His eyes are so dark, with the flames twinkling like small torches in a deep dark cavern. Threatening to swallow you whole. He then pours ice cold water carefully into both glasses to extinguish the flame and cause it to cloud over.

“So, this is how you’re supposed to drink absinthe?” you ask.

“Well, I’m being a bit showy about it, but I like to play with fire, a little. I find it makes quite the impression, don’t you?”

The flames could also have been seen as a little romantic, but you want to perish that intrusive thought. Kei is a little too much of a smooth operator, you realize.

“Absinthe has been called ‘forbidden nectar’, ‘the devil’s drink’, and--”

“La fée verte,” you offer a little too quickly. Oops.

“The green fairy, yes. But I thought you’ve never had Absinthe?”

“I’ve never seen it before in the flesh, but I’ve at least heard of it.”

Kei continues on his lecture, “Well, it has had a long history with connections to a number of cultures. Medieval Europe, ancient Greece, the middle east...” His voice trails off as you both realize you’re staring at each other. You look away and he clears his throat, continuing, “Absinthe preparation had been poisonous due to adulterants like copper sulfate, or antimony, and was rumored to cause hallucinations so it was banned for a time. That’s how this infamous liquor earned its nicknames, but the modern day product is perfectly safe.”

Sensing my unease at him being so close, with his scent growing stronger, he softens his tone. “It’s captured the likes of Van Gogh and Toulouse-Lautrec among its fair share of hearts… making it the perfect drink for you.”

“Just who is capturing whom?” you murmur softly. Oh no, that was out loud.

He just smiles, and offers you a glass.

“We won’t find out until after we drink.”

You take the glass of green liquid, gone somewhat milky with the swirled, burnt sugar.

“I hope you like it.”

He sips at his glass and watches you. You bring the glass up to your nose to sniff at the interesting olfactory bouquet.

“It smells very strongly of licorice, I can see how this is an acquired taste.” You make no move to drink, however.

Kei leans forward in his seat, grinning. “Well...why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Nagisa Mikami? Or...would you prefer I called you by another name?”

Your heart hammers away ominously in your chest. Your mind empties itself, trying to think of what to do. You think of the cyanide capsule in your clutch. You foolishly thought you were holding your ground with this unreadable man, but now you’re the one caught in the honey trap. You curse at yourself for not being able to resist your own biology. You don’t dare let this show on your face.

Kei notices your loss for words, and his grin becomes a triumphant smirk. You’re not sure if it’s just his face, or the affect his scent is having on you, but you find it dangerously alluring. Just the notion sends a chill racing down your spine. You’re intent on calmly meeting his gaze directly, even as you’re feeling like your heart might stop at any moment.

So he thinks you’re possibly using a fake name. Still have no reason to give him the satisfaction of being right. You allow your face to settle into a sultry sneer, “Another name? Whatever do you mean? Is that absinthe getting to you already?” You giggle before continuing, “Do you have me confused for another woman? I thought you were better than that.” You pointedly cross your legs, intending to take back control of this situation by using your Omega’s desire to appeal to his Alpha, exuding an unflappable, purposeful confidence.

“Drunk? Maybe.”

He sips a little more of his drink before leaning toward you.

“But I think I was right to seek you out. You’re perfect.”

His cool fingers reach out toward your cheek. His elegant fingers are perfectly manicured, and make contact with your skin, drawing away some of the heat flushing there.

Alpha is curious about us.

“So, what name will I call you by?” His hand cups the side of your face. You’re already feeling that uncomfortable dampness that you thought was over for this month.

“Nagisa Mikami is just fine. Why are you so eager to give me a nickname already?”

Kei continues to smile, touching his forehead to yours. “James Bond...MI6...The Secret Intelligence Service...England is obsessed with spies. So when a beautiful woman -- an unmated omega, no less -- appears in front of me, out of nowhere...” He flicks his eyes’ focus into yours. “I have got to assume she is either a spy or an assassin.”

You protest, “Are those the only two options, then? That’s not terribly creative. That doesn’t sound like the educated, intelligent Kei I met downstairs.”

“You think you know me pretty well, hmm?” Kei regards you with fascination twinkling in his eyes.

You continue, “If you were trying to hide your intelligence, you really messed that up for yourself with the way you were talking at afternoon tea.” You’re flying by the seat of your pants, scrambling through anything that might be used to bolster your confidence. It looks bad at the moment. You feel like your own bravado might have finally failed you this time when thinking about getting alone with an Alpha who affected you this deeply. You regret not handing this off and removing yourself from this mission sooner.

But, Kei must have known this would happen. Curiosity killed the cat, and you were very curious. Maybe, just maybe you can simply charm your way out of this.

“Last I checked, James Bond is fictional.”

“I know, but 007 jokes aside...I’m on an unofficial visit to Japan. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the government took the precaution of putting me under surveillance. The British government takes those kinds of measures when other countries’ diplomats start acting strangely.”

What a fortuitous turn! At least he doesn’t know where you’re from. “You mean...You think I’m a spy sent by the government?”

“Or maybe an assassin,” his smile is cold, and his face settles once again into a sharp glare as his grip tightens into your hair.

The crushing anxiety you were feeling at being caught in a trap evaporates. Maybe you can salvage this. He still essentially knows nothing. Not your real name, not your agency. He may be moving me into check, but he hasn’t clinched the checkmate yet. You refocus your alias in your mind. He should believe you are a government spy, cleverly caught out by him. This is your last chance to catch him unguarded.

You speak, but with the air of neither confirming nor denying his suspicions. “You must like spy movies. I do too, but it’s important to distinguish fiction from reality. If what you’re suggesting is true, Kei...Why not shoot me dead right now?”

“That kind of thing happens in movies all the time… I’m not a huge fan of guns, though.” He releases his hold on your hair, trailing his fingers downward until they rest on your neck, his elegant fingers on both sides of your throat. Your heart is racing again. His hand is large enough to crush your windpipe.

Kei moves his head close to your ear. “If all you want to do is watch me, I don’t mind. You can watch me all you like.” His voice somehow reminds you of some lovers’ pillow talk. But that may just be your Omega reacting.

“What...what do you mean?” That comes out a little breathier than you expected.

“In exchange...I’d like for you to be my accomplice.”

Something tells you this isn’t just picking up the slack on his afternoon tea duties.

“I’ll tell you more once you’ve signed a contract. You don’t have to worry. It won’t be anything illegal.” You look at him curiously, but he continues, “There’s something I need to take care of, and I could use the talents of a capable woman like yourself.”

You think, this could work out well, you’d definitely find out why he’s in Japan. And he wouldn’t think to look further to find out your real identity. That’s a risk you’re willing to take to get out of this. May as well play a little though, flirting is the fun part, after all.

“And if I refuse?”

Kei frowns a little, furrowing his brow. “That would be a problem. I hadn’t considered that possibility. What should I do if you tell me no…?” You feel his grip on your neck pressing ever so slightly into your skin. No one ever said Alphas were normal.

“...Fine, I’ll indulge your little fantasy. After what’s happened today, it would probably even be educational.” You make a big show out of being ‘found out,’ lowering your eyes in resignation. You submissively meet his gaze again to look at his triumphant expression. At last, his hand pulls away from your neck.

“Well then, it’s a deal. Let’s drink on it.” Kei pushes your glass of absinthe towards you.

You reach for it, bringing it up to your lips; aware of Kei’s steady gaze trained on you the whole time.

“You actually have to drink this time. No pretending like you did last time.”

Guilty. You steel your nerves. Is there still some way to avoid drinking with him? If the final nail in your coffin before was your refusal to drink, maybe you should refuse again? As long as I can keep him on his toes, I can regain the advantage. “You want me to drink something this strong all alone with a man I just met…? I’d have to have a death wish.” You craft your expression into something innocent.

Kei smiles at you, cheerful in reply, “We’re no longer two people you ‘just met.’ If you’re going to be my accomplice, you’ve got to trust me.” He picks up the glass, pressing it into your hand. He then grazes his fingers along your lip, to show you he is watching this very closely.

You take a single sip of the absinthe. Licorice flavor is awash over your taste buds, and you hesitate to swallow. Kei’s fingers trail back down your face, along your neck as you involuntarily swallow. You feel a trickle of the cocktail dripping out of the corner of your mouth. That sneak is looking so smug, and self satisfied. You’re wondering how you ever thought he looked like a fairy tale prince.

“What do you think of the flavor?”

“It’s.. a lot to take. Like you, in a way. You and the way you do things.”

Kei lowers his voice once again and brings his face into your neck, breathing deeply, “I’ve just been captivated by your beauty, that’s all. The way your veins show ever so slightly under your delicate skin… makes me want to kiss them.” You feel his lips move downwards along those very spots and you shudder. Controlling someone like this is playing with fire, you think.

He moans into your neck, “Mmm, yes I definitely like you better without the mask. I want to see all of the different sides of you.” His voice tickles your rapidly heating skin.

Alpha wants us.

“...You just might get the chance. If you play your cards right, that is.” When did your voice become so breathy? Your throat is so dry.

Kei pulls his face up to look back into your eyes in response, “Sounds like a challenge has been issued. I’ll have you show you what I’m made of.” He punctuates his comment by licking the remaining absinthe from your lips. His tongue sends arcs of pleasure thrilling through your every breath.

You’re frozen, staring at Kei. He leans back, smiling.

“Well then, I suppose it’s now my turn…” Kei picks up his glass and knocks back the whole thing in one go.

“That seals our deal.”

“If you say so.” You feel your confident Nagisa mask slipping. What was that feeling? Logically this is still going your way but… as you look at his confident smirk, worry starts melting into an impending sense of anxiety and doom.

#masquerade kiss #voltage inc #voltage otome #kei soejima #fanfic #also on ao3

[yellowfeather84]

can you share some part of Jeanne's scene? :))

Of course I can. So much happens as Mme Jeanne’s from the first time that Jamie and Claire make love in 20 years, to Claire and Fergus reuniting and so many classic lines that we love. But to go with some humor and because I can just see Cait during this scene, I’ll give you the next morning. Jamie is off to look for Young Ian, Claire is confined to her room with no clothes and is getting hungry.

Rather than go on sitting here in the nude, receiving random deputations from the outside world, I thought it time to take steps. Rising and carefully wrapping a quilt around my body, I took a few, out into the corridor. 

The upper floor seemed deserted. Aside from the room I had left, there were only two other doors up here. Glancing up, I could see unadorned rafters overhead. We were in the attic then; chances were that the other rooms here were occupied by servants, who were presumably now employed downstairs. 

I could hear faint noises drifting up the stairwell. Something else drifted up, as well— the scent of frying sausage. A loud gustatory rumble informed me that my stomach hadn’t missed this, and furthermore, that my innards considered the consumption of one peanut butter sandwich and one bowl of soup in one twenty-four-hour period a wholly inadequate level of nutrition. 

I tucked the ends of the quilt in, sarong-fashion, just above my breasts, and picking up my trailing skirts, followed the scent of food downstairs. 

The smell— and the clinking, clattering, sloshing noises of a number of people eating— were coming from a closed door on the first floor above ground level. I pushed it open, and found myself at the end of a long room equipped as a refectory. 

The table was surrounded by twenty-odd women, a few gowned for day, but most of them in a state of dishabille that made my quilt modest by comparison. A woman near the end of the table caught sight of me hovering in the doorway, and beckoned, companionably sliding over to make room for me on the end of the long bench. 

“You’ll be the new lass, aye?” she said, looking me over with interest. “You’re a wee bit older than Madame usually takes on— she likes ’em no more than five and twenty. You’re no bad at all, though,” she assured me hastily. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” 

“Good skin and a pretty face,” observed the dark-haired lady across from us, sizing me up with the detached air of one appraising horseflesh. “And nice bubbies, what I can see.” She lifted her chin slightly, peering across the table at what could be seen of my cleavage. 

“Madame doesna like us to take the kivvers off the beds,” my original acquaintance said reprovingly. “Ye should wear your shift, if ye havena something pretty to show yourself in yet.” 

“Aye, be careful with the quilt,” advised the dark-haired girl, still scrutinizing me. “Madame’ll dock your wages, an’ ye get spots on the bedclothes.” 

“What’s your name, my dearie?” A short, rather plump girl with a round, friendly face leaned past the dark girl’s elbow to smile at me. “Here we’re all chatterin’ at ye, and not welcomed ye proper at all. I’m Dorcas, this is Peggy”— she jerked a thumb at the dark-haired girl, then pointed across the table to the fair-haired woman beside me—“ and that’s Mollie.” 

“My name is Claire,” I said, smiling and hitching the quilt a bit higher in self-consciousness. I wasn’t sure how to correct their impression that I was Madame Jeanne’s newest recruit; for the moment, that seemed less important than getting some breakfast. 

Apparently divining my need, the friendly Dorcas reached to the sideboard behind her, passed me a wooden plate, and shoved a large dish of sausages in my direction. 

The food was well-cooked and would have been good in any case; starved as I was, it was ambrosial. A hell of a lot better than the hospital cafeteria’s breakfasts, I observed to myself, taking another ladle of fried potatoes. 

“Had a rough one for your first, aye?” Mollie, next to me, nodded at my bosom. Glancing down, I was mortified to see a large red patch peeking above the edge of my quilt. I couldn’t see my neck, but the direction of Millie’s interested gaze made it clear that the small tingling sensations there were evidence of further bite-marks. 

“Your nose is a wee bit puffed, too,” Peggy said, frowning at me critically. She reached across the table to touch it, disregarding the fact that the gesture caused her flimsy wrap to fall open to the waist. “Slap ye, did he? If they get too rough, ye should call out, ye know; Madame doesna allow the customers to mistreat us— give a good screech and Bruno will be in there in a moment.” 

“Bruno?” I said, a little faintly. 

“The porter,” Dorcas explained, busily spooning eggs into her mouth. “Big as a bear— that’s why we call him Bruno. What’s his name really?” she asked the table at large, “Horace?” 

“Theobald,” corrected Millie. She turned to call to a servingmaid at the end of the room, “Janie, will ye fetch in more ale? The new lassie’s had none yet!” 

“Aye, Peggy’s right,” she said, turning back to me. She wasn’t at all pretty, but had a nicely shaped mouth and a pleasant expression. “If ye get a man likes to play a bit rough, that’s one thing— and don’t sic Bruno on a good customer, or there’ll be hell to pay, and you’ll do the paying. But if ye think ye might really be damaged, then just give a good skelloch. Bruno’s never far away during the night. Oh, here’s the ale,” she added, taking a big pewter mug from the servingmaid and plonking it in front of me. 

“She’s no damaged,” Dorcas said, having completed her survey of the visible aspects of my person. “A bit sore between the legs, though, aye?” she said shrewdly, grinning at me. 

“Ooh, look, she’s blushing,” said Mollie, giggling with delight. “Ooh, you are a fresh one, aren’t ye?”

I took a deep gulp of the ale. It was dark, rich, and extremely welcome, as much for the width of the cup rim that hid my face as for its taste. 

“Never mind.” Mollie patted my arm kindly. “After breakfast, I’ll show ye where the tubs are. Ye can soak your parts in warm water, and they’ll be good as new by tonight.” 

“Be sure to show her where the jars are, too,” put in Dorcas. “Sweet herbs,” she explained to me. “Put them in the water before ye sit in it. Madame likes us to smell sweet.” 

“Eef ze men want to lie wiz a feesh, zey would go to ze docks; eet ees more cheap,” Peggy intoned, in what was patently meant to be an imitation of Madame Jeanne. The table erupted in giggles, which were rapidly quelled by the sudden appearance of Madame herself, who entered through a door at the end of the room. 

Madame Jeanne was frowning in a worried fashion, and seemed too preoccupied to notice the smothered hilarity. 

“Tsk!” murmured Mollie, seeing the proprietor. “An early customer. I hate it when they come in the middle o’ breakfast,” she grumbled. “Stop ye digesting your food proper, it does.” 

“Ye needn’t worry, Mollie; it’s Claire’ll have to take him,” Peggy said, tossing her dark plait out of the way. “Newest lass takes the ones no one wants,” she informed me. 

“Stick your finger up his bum,” Dorcas advised me. “That brings ’em off faster than anything. I’ll save ye a bannock for after, if ye like.” 

“Er … thanks,” I said. Just then, Madame Jeanne’s eye lit upon me, and her mouth dropped open in a horrified “O.” 

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, rushing up to grab me by the arm. 

“Eating,” I said, in no mood to be snatched at. I detached my arm from her grasp and picked up my ale cup. 

“Merde!” she said. “Did no one bring you food this morning?” 

“No,” I said. “Nor yet clothes.” I gestured at the quilt, which was in imminent danger of falling off. 

“Nez de Cleopatre!” she said violently. She stood up and glanced around the room, eyes flashing daggers. “I will have the worthless scum of a maid flayed for this! A thousand apologies, Madame!” 

“That’s quite all right,” I said graciously, aware of the looks of astonishment on the faces of my breakfast companions. “I’ve had a wonderful meal. Nice to have met you all, ladies,” I said, rising and doing my best to bow graciously while clutching my quilt. “Now, Madame … about my gown?”

#answered #book quotes #voyager