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The Emperor trusts her ministers with everything she has, but their constant bickering wears on even her patience, sometimes. The party is the usual grand yet boring affair, with former nobles kissing up in their attempt to curry favor over flutes of champagne. Edelgard's attention, however, remains on the two men beneath the archway, having their usual spirited argument about... goodness, what even is it this time?
"Well, I am sorry to say you are wrong."
"Hardly. On the contrary, you are the one who is too thick-headed to see the truth of it."
"Thick-headed, you say!"
Edelgard sighs. A few women murmur from behind their fluttering silk fans. Edelgard wonders how anyone is surprised by the pair of them after all this time; the pair of them having an... animated conversation is not an uncommon sight at Adrestian parties or meetings. With a polite nod of her head, setting her golden headdress chiming, Edelgard excuses herself from the current group of men surrounding her.
It is Hubert who notices her first. He turns and drops swiftly into a deep bow, flawless after two decades of careful practice. "Your Majesty."
Ferdinand takes longer to shake off the argument before tearing his glare away from Hubert at last. He drops into a bow as well, his countenance still painted with the emotion of the argument.
"I will speak plainly," Edelgard says in a firm whisper. "If you two insist on bickering like an old married couple, take it elsewhere. Our... guests are beginning to notice." As the three of them glance around, all eyes surrounding them immediately avert themselves in nonchalant pretense. There is a sudden increase in speed of fan-waving. "Go. Please. I must finish this talk with the ambassador."
"As you wish, Your Majesty," Hubert says, bowing once more as Edelgard swishes back to her place on the dais. Turning to Ferdinand, he scowls. "You've gotten us disciplined like children."
"Me?!"
The eyes are back on them.
"Shut up, would you?" Hubert hisses. Shoving against his side, Hubert surreptitiously grips Ferdinand by his upper arm and leads him out of the ballroom, nearly toppling a waitperson and their tray of immaculate hors d'œuvres in his haste. "It is your loud voice gaining the unwanted attention."
Ferdinand wants to argue, his mouth opening to deliver an impassioned retort, but he realizes Hubert has a point. All eyes are on them and his voice can certainly carry. He lets Hubert all but drag him into the surrounding corridors, miffed that he's being towed around like an unruly little boy who stuck his finger in the cake frosting. As they increase the distance from the ballroom, the crowds thin out. Something, however, catches Hubert's attention and without warning, he opens a nondescript door.
"Hubert?"
Hubert pulls Ferdinand inside and shuts the door. It takes a moment for Ferdinand's eyes to adjust. A… linen closet? Before he can process the situation, Hubert pushes him against a counter set into the wall. He presses close, too close to be excused by even the tightness of the closet. He takes firm hold of Ferdinand's cheek in his gloved hand and lunges in for a hungry kiss.
"Mmph—!" At first Ferdinand's body is stiff with shock but he almost immediately relaxes into the kiss, his lips at last remembering how to return it. Only Hubert is so rough tonight, so eager, that Ferdinand can hardly keep up. Ferdinand's uncertain hands grip the edge of the counter behind him. The vehemence of Hubert's kiss is enough for Ferdinand to simply yield, to allow him to dominate the space.
The closet is cramped, with a narrow, clouded window for light; this late, however, the moonlight keeps them shrouded in secrecy. A mess of linens fall off the counter around Ferdinand as he scrambles to keep his footing, taken so off-balance by Hubert so suddenly accosting him.
"Hubert," Ferdinand pants as soon as his mouth is momentarily free.
"Yes?" There is something a little cruel in his voice, a remnant of their argument in the ballroom. Just the sort of flirtatious game they've played for years, a little rough banter to get the blood up. But this... this particular flavor of escalation is a recent development. Hubert's lips, warmed by Ferdinand's, continue their insistent movements.
"Do you think... they saw us?" Ferdinand asks breathlessly between kisses. "Ducking in here, I mean?"
"It would give them something more interesting to talk about," Hubert remarks. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind Ferdinand's ear and shoots him a narrow-eyed smile. "Consider it a favor."
"Hubert."
Ignoring Ferdinand's scolding gaze, Hubert tips his chin up with a single finger. Ferdinand lowers his eyes, his dark lashes casting shadows along his cheeks even in the narrow window's paltry light. Hubert kisses him again, languorous and teasing at his lips, the sort of drawn-out kiss he gives when he's particularly affectionate.
Ferdinand, admittedly, is not quite used to that yet: an affectionate Hubert.
Hubert picks up the pace once more, trailing his kisses along Ferdinand's upraised jawline, down beneath his chin, kissing him a little too hard along the sensitive curve there. Ferdinand sucks in a sharp breath.
"That will bruise!" he cautions. Hubert snorts a soft laugh and follows up with a flirtatious lick to the same spot.
"What a shame."
"People will notice!"
"How dire for you," Hubert teases. But he backs off just a bit, his hands at the front of Ferdinand's collar.
Hubert undresses Ferdinand with a mind for practical expedience—mostly. He still has an eager eye that craves a much needed wander down the delight that is Ferdinand's body. The cravat is first to go, tugged away in a scarlet flash. Pale green eyes remain fixed on Ferdinand's as Hubert unbuttons the front of Ferdinand's jacket, his waistcoat, his shirt. Every article of clothing undone is the promise that they are not leaving this secluded hideaway any time soon. Hubert's hands move in to replace them, warmly brushing down Ferdinand's bare torso. The silk of his gloves does not hide the eager heat of his fingers. Truth be told, Ferdinand has grown to love even the feel of leather gloves trailing down his body; tonight makes for a more decadent treat of fine silk, thanks to the party attire.
Hubert's exploring touch moves to the slender shape of Ferdinand's waist. His mouth plays at Ferdinand's neck, nuzzling into the heated slant of it now that his collar is easily pushed out of the way.
"You smell delicious," Hubert whispers, his voice sultry and fevered with want. He takes in the scent of Ferdinand's down-soft hair, a gorgeous mingling of florals and citrus. The scent of it has haunted him for years. Right here, where the ends curl around his neck, is where Ferdinand smells best. "You know how ravenous it makes me."
Ferdinand moans softly in response, tipping his head to the side and closing his eyes to take in every ounce of the sweet sensation that he can. Hubert sucks slowly at the sensitive flesh beneath his ear, raising blood to the surface. Ferdinand, notably, has no more complaints about anyone else seeing the marks.
Hands still on his waist, Hubert grips him tighter; Ferdinand follows his cue, boosting himself up onto the countertop with Hubert's aid. More linens unfurl and drop uselessly to the floor. Woe to the servant who needs a fresh tablecloth. Ferdinand parts his legs and Hubert moves to fill the space. Sighing, Ferdinand leans forward, one arm draping around the other's shoulders, the other sliding against his cheek. His fingers toy with the drape of thick, dark hair, pushing the gentle waves away from Hubert's face as he eagerly steals a kiss.
As their tongues meet, Hubert unbuttons Ferdinand's trousers.
A faint sound rises from the other side of the door. Their lips part and they turn to the dark shape of the door. A peal of high-pitched laughter erupts in the corridor before fading; the partygoers pass as quickly as they came. A sigh of relief filters past Ferdinand's wet lips. Hubert laughs softly.
"To open this door on the sight of the Adrestian prime minister spread open in such a flagrant display," Hubert says, "well, that would be quite the spectacle, wouldn't it?"
"Do not joke about that," Ferdinand murmurs. Even with the small scare, he is not deterred; he lifts Hubert's hand in his own, plucking at the fingertips to pull the glove off at last. Noting Hubert's perked brow, Ferdinand explains simply: "It would not do to sully them."
"No. I suppose not. Her Majesty would frown if she knew what lewd parts of you these gloves have touched."
Ferdinand laughs lightly. His laughter is a melodic, fae-like creature that has always captivated Hubert, even when the two of them weren't on good terms. How he hadn't fallen for him sooner, Hubert doesn't know; for all the cleverness others praise him endlessly for, he has always been... rather obtuse when it comes to Ferdinand. Not that he'll admit it aloud. It takes everything in his power to stay composed in the face of such a bright beauty.
"Do not let her hear you say that," Ferdinand says playfully.
Sacrilegious, truly, to speak of Edelgard in this hushed manner, and yet it sends a decadent thrill down Hubert's spine. Only with Ferdinand can he entrust this degree of open, perhaps overly familiar ribbing in Her Majesty's direction. Neither of them would dare voice such things otherwise.
In the space between their lips, however, all is secret and sacred.
Ferdinand slips Hubert's other glove free and reunites it with its partner a short distance away on the countertop. Still smiling impishly, he guides Hubert's hands back to his lap where they left off. That smile, however, fades rapidly, melting into something sweetly needy and irresistibly erotic. His lips part with a heavy breath, his lashes lower over darkened eyes, and his back arches ever so gently.
"Well, well," Hubert purrs approvingly, looking Ferdinand's body over shamelessly. Even for his strength in battle, he's always been remarkably slender. The near-androgynous curves of his waist and the lithe muscle hinted at beneath the surface drive Hubert feral with unbridled hunger.
"Shut up, Hubert," Ferdinand says forcefully. A smile perks the corner of Hubert's mouth. "I can't wait anymore. You've teased me all night."
Hubert is easy to win over when Ferdinand is demanding. Just the commanding tone of his voice uncoils a serpentine desire in Hubert's core.
"Very well," Hubert obliges.
He pulls Ferdinand's cock, hot and firm, free of his pants, giving it a slow, almost reverent stroke. Ferdinand licks his lips, lets them fall open as his breathing shifts pattern.
"This hard already?" Hubert teases. He doesn't resist the urge to nibble at Ferdinand's plump lower lip. "Just from a little kiss?"
"Do not toy with me," Ferdinand whispers. His voice takes on a pleasured rasp, dropping lower with every deliberate stroke of Hubert's hand. "You know I—ah~"
He tips his head away, bringing the back of his hand up to his mouth to stop any wayward moans that may escape the closet into the corridor. Hubert nudges Ferdinand's hand away and instead helps stifle his pretty noises with a biting kiss, sucking insistently on Ferdinand's soft lips until they're cherry red with his attention. Notably, his "attempt" at suppressing any wayward whimpers fails.
The next moments are quick, their shared movements hurried; it is less out of an obligation to rush than it is the urgency of need. Ferdinand is impatient; rather than staying where Hubert put him, he slides back off the countertop, making it all the easier to pull his pants down even more. So much for an innocent makeout session. Hubert follows his lead, with one hand at Ferdinand's jaw to tilt his head up for another quick kiss, and the other between his legs, taking confident hold of his cock once again.
Ferdinand moans with relief.
"This hard," Hubert whispers against Ferdinand's ear, "and so wet." His fingers play in the milky fluids dribbling eagerly from the tip of his cock.
"Hubert!"
The brilliant blush on Ferdinand's face is at odds with the indignation it shares space with. And oh, is such a look ever worth the tease. Hubert's teeth bite into his lip a little more sharply; Ferdinand pulls in a sweetly pained inhalation. Hubert does not warm him up, does not take it slow; they came in here for a reason, after all. Ferdinand is right there with him, his fingers deftly unclasping Hubert's belt buckle before getting an eager feel of the front of his pants. He is far more generous than Hubert was, opting not to tease his lover about how hard he is after "just a little kiss." Instead, he stares up at Hubert, the sort of hungry look Ferdinand only shows to him when they're alone.
The thought of Ferdinand looking like this around anyone else? Hubert cannot abide it. He is greedy for him. Let him share his bright smile with all Fódlan, let the world partake in that scintillating treasure. But this... this dark and hungry desire is a singular delight, reserved for him and him alone.
Hubert groans heavily as Ferdinand's hand slips into the front of his trousers. His own hand is at Ferdinand's hair, fingers sliding into the silken strands, tugging back until Ferdinand gasps. Their mouths are a shared breath apart, panting and quick. They stroke each other off, meeting in the middle for another delirious kiss.
The door jostles.
Ferdinand pulls away from the kiss, flushed and fearful. Hubert might be amused again if he didn't detest the interruption. The party be damned. All he wants right now is to get off. Before Ferdinand can pull farther away, Hubert tightens his hold on his hair, keeping him firmly in place. Ferdinand winces but obeys the silent command, his bright eyes fearfully set on the doorknob.
A woman laughs from the other side of the door. From the sounds of it, she's had far too much to drink. How typical for noblewomen this side of the capital.
"Hubert," Ferdinand whispers, swallowing hard.
From beneath strands of thick, black hair, green eyes settle heavily on the shadows moving beneath the crack in the door. One second, then two. There is the murmuring of concerned friends pulling the tipsy woman away from the door and back down the corridor.
"Are they gone?"
Hubert answers Ferdinand's question by taking hold of his waist and twisting him around. He shoves him hard against the counter, eliciting a shocked little cry from him. Maybe the group outside heard it, maybe not; either way, Hubert does not stop, determined to get what he wants regardless of the close brushes with strangers. Ferdinand sets his hands heavily onto the countertop and flicks his head to sweep the hair from his eyes. Hubert busies himself behind him, flipping up the prime minister's elegant coattails to expose the full ass beneath them. Ordinarily he might stop to admire it longer, but clearly their rushed impatience is not entirely unfounded, given the multiple near-misses. He compromises with a generous grope.
Ferdinand's moans are gentle but irresistibly sweet. For someone whose lack of volume control earned them an Imperial scolding tonight, he certainly does a wonderful job at it now. Hubert's long fingers trail down, slipping between Ferdinand's soft cheeks before finding the tight bud there. A violet glow fills the dark of the closet, glinting off the window panes. The more his fingers rub, the slicker they get, thanks to his favorite conjuring trick.
"Ohh~" Ferdinand tips his head back, biting his lip.
Hubert lets his free hand slip up and around, entwining Ferdinand's throat, his chin, gripping him just hard enough to remind him who he belongs to. In this space, it's only them, but there is no doubting even in a crowd that the two of them are bound, even if they've said nothing to anyone about their relationship. That the Emperor's two most trusted ministers are fucking when they're not too busy arguing is something of an open secret in the capital.
Hubert presses his finger in, forcing a gasping little cry from Ferdinand's throat. He slides it in deeper, savoring the tight, slick feel of him.
"You want it so badly," Hubert murmurs near Ferdinand's ear, "yet you're still this tight."
"I... I can hardly help that, can I?" Ferdinand protests. He arches his back, perking his ass up and out.
The conjured lubricant drips thickly and freely with every fresh thrust of his hand. Hubert tugs Ferdinand back against him, hand still at his throat, and nuzzles a biting kiss into his neck once more. At the same time, he plunges a second finger inside him. Ferdinand has more trouble containing his volume now, yelping at the sharp pain in his neck and the pressure down below. The closet is loud with their combined, panting breaths, Ferdinand's eager mewls, and the indecent squelching of Hubert's fingers.
"It isn't enough," Ferdinand pants. "Fuck me."
"Aren't I already?" Hubert teases him.
"You know what I mean," Ferdinand moans, breaking free from Hubert's hold so he can lean forward on the countertop.
Hubert grins. To think, Ferdinand von Aegir of all the people would reveal himself to be this kind of desperate slut. Or perhaps it is all his own doing? Whether Ferdinand was always like this or Hubert made him so, he quite likes the result.
"Very well. As you wish." Usually he saves those words in that reverent tone for Her Majesty. Ferdinand knows this; a shiver runs the length of his spine.
Withdrawing his fingers, Hubert replaces them with the head of his cock, rubbing it teasingly into the slick divot between Ferdinand's cheeks. Ferdinand widens his stance, parts his thighs. They're dripping wet, and Hubert only adds to the slick with more magic. Without much in the way of warning besides his close presence, he pushes into Ferdinand's tight ass with a heavy, swift stroke.
Ferdinand gasps and only barely manages to stifle a loud cry; the resulting groan trails off into an aching mewl. The pressure is immense and the weight of something filling him inside is at once delectable and overwhelming.
Panting, Hubert slides his hands down Ferdinand's slender waist, to the pretty swell of his hips. Ferdinand lowers his head and clenches his fists atop the counter. Even when they work up to the moment, Hubert can be a lot to handle, but this impatient, sloppy impulse fuck amplifies the discomfort. Hubert gives him a moment to adjust, and only a moment, before he begins to move his hips.
Ferdinand groans loudly, riding out the waves of intermingled pleasure and pain. He concentrates on the warmth of Hubert's hands on his hips, the firm grip he has, the heat of his form behind him and driving into him. His movements are animalistic. Sudden. Anything but graceful. Each hard thrust carries just enough power to make Ferdinand cry out with every breath.
Hubert releases his hold on Ferdinand's hip momentarily. He gropes around the countertop, finding his gloves, placed neatly aside. He forces the fine silk between Ferdinand's lips, muffling him to a series of sweet whimpers instead.
"You don't want them finding us out, do you?" Hubert murmurs, his voice hoarse with pleasure.
Ferdinand's reply is nothing more than an intoxicating groan.
Hubert's cock slides in deeper, making Ferdinand wince and bite down on the glove. Deep inside, Hubert keeps his thrusts short and quick, his hips smacking against Ferdinand's ass with a series of satisfying claps. He slips his hand up beneath Ferdinand's open shirt, caressing the gentle slope of his smooth abdomen.
"Is it too much for you?" he asks. He doesn't sound terribly concerned, as his words might suggest.
Ferdinand turns his head to one side, catching Hubert out of the corner of his eye. The way his brows turn up paired with the lewd sight of his mouth filled with that impromptu gag... well, he hardly needs to reply to Hubert for him to know the answer. Even so, the way he moans so needily then is appreciated.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Hubert purrs. "My cock this deep inside you."
He shoves in quite violently, ramming in to the hilt. A cry locked in Ferdinand's throat still manages to fill the closet with remarkable volume. Hubert delights in his discomfort, burying his face in Ferdinand's fragrant hair as he shoves his cock all the way in him, shuddering and deep. His mouth trails close to his ear, followed by a teasing nip of his teeth. The noises Ferdinand makes when he's bitten... well, suffice it to say that underneath his fine clothing, there's more than a little evidence of Hubert's painful affection.
He slows his movements, taking the time to savor the depth and heat of Ferdinand's ass. The breaths beside his ear are halting and heavy. Oh, what a crime that Hubert did not see the error of his ways until recently; he could have had this so much sooner were he not so foolish. No matter, though. He indulges often, now... provided that their little trysts do not interfere with their work. Thankfully, that is hardly a worry with Ferdinand, who values his work just as much as Hubert does. In that way, they have always been remarkably compatible.
In this way, too, they've found they are excellently matched.
Hubert's gloves fall from Ferdinand's mouth. He pants rapidly, whimpering. "So... s-so deep...."
"What a ravenous little beast you've become," Hubert teases. His fingers splay out across Ferdinand's belly, stroking him fondly all the way back down to his cock. Ferdinand unsuccessfully bites down on a loud moan. "So sensitive already?"
Ferdinand begins to rock his hips back, meeting each of Hubert's unrelenting thrusts.
"Don't stop!" Ferdinand cries. "Right there!"
Hubert grins. He strokes Ferdinand off in time with the hard pounding of his hips, keeping it just how Ferdinand wants it. His own pleasure rises dangerously. His head is awash in dizzy rapture. To be this close to Ferdinand, to soak in his sweet scent and taste and revel in the feverish, tight heat of him inside.... It takes everything in Hubert to hold out.
Ferdinand arches back against him, leaning hard against Hubert's chest. His grip on the counter wanes and his thighs quiver weakly. A wavering moan fills the air as he climaxes, making a mess of the counter and Hubert's hand. Hubert slows his thrusts, groaning with the pleasure of how deliciously Ferdinand's ass clings to his cock. Even as Ferdinand still shudders against him, Hubert feels his own orgasm wash over him, a wave of heated rapture that pulls an earnest, deep groan from his throat. Hot, thick seed floods Ferdinand's throbbing depths. Perhaps he should have been more considerate, given they're still in the midst of a party where they'll be missed, but, well. There are means to clean up in a linen closet, Hubert concludes, and gives no more thought to it.
Well, until he pulls out, sending a silky tumble of cum in his wake. Ferdinand nearly stumbles, his legs are so weak, but Hubert keeps him on his feet by steadying him with hands firmly planted on his hips. He wraps his arms around Ferdinand's waist, holding him close. The moon emerges from behind a cloud, spreading diffuse, silvery light across their entwined figures. Their breaths are quick. Panting. Sweat glistens on Hubert's hairline and dampens both their hair. Ferdinand's scent is all the more intoxicating now, heated and forged through pleasure. Hubert buries his nose in Ferdinand's hair; if he has to catch his breath, he's glad to do it through so pleasant a filter.
"Run out of quips, then?" Ferdinand asks at last.
Hubert snickers. "Merely basking in the moment."
"Ah, I... I see."
Hubert does not need to see it to know Ferdinand blushes.
"But we ought to rejoin the party," Hubert says, more a sigh than a statement.
Ferdinand looks down at the jumble of fabric that constitutes his clothing and clicks his tongue. How quickly reality sets back in. Hubert finally releases his hold on Ferdinand, confident in his ability to stand on his own, even after a thorough fucking like that one. He plucks a towel—or is it a tablecloth?—from one of the top shelves and tosses it at Ferdinand, who, unprepared, catches it sloppily against his chest.
"Clean up," Hubert says, cursorily doing the same before straightening up his clothing. "I should leave first to avoid suspicion."
"And just like that, I am relegated to Hubert von Vestra's secret whore," Ferdinand sneers, only half-jokingly.
Hubert takes Ferdinand by the chin, mostly gentle but still firm enough to catch his attention. He looks into Ferdinand's large, luminous eyes. "You know better. We have appearances to maintain, Ferdinand. Do not mistake our duties for a lack of affection on my part."
Ferdinand's cheeks pinken again and his eyes drop away from Hubert's; they're far too intense to look into right now.
"Take your time. I will make all the relevant excuses in the meantime."
He takes his gloves from the countertop, still damp. Ah, well. Surely no one will look that closely, he thinks, and quietly leaves the closet to rejoin Edelgard in the ballroom.
Ferdinand releases a long sigh and, despite his mildly conflicting feelings, he smiles. Hubert is right. He often is, as much as Ferdinand hates to admit it. Their duties as Imperial ministers are the priority. Even so, Ferdinand values these quick, unofficial meetings.
Hubert's words echo in the hushed, humid air. Affection, he said. To think that Hubert von Vestra would be the one to set his heart aflame like this. If he could go back three years and tell himself the news, his younger self might have laughed himself silly or died of absolute horror. Or both.
A short time later, he ventures out of the closet, only barely avoiding a passing couple who might have spotted him. He smooths out his jacket and hair as he walks at a steady clip through the corridors, making his way back to the party. He eagerly plucks a flute of champagne from a passing tray, and spots Hubert in the crowd—as tall and... distinctive as he is, he is the easiest target to hone in on. Edelgard is still surrounded by the ambassadors, who seem to be in better spirits thanks to the free-flowing drink. Ferdinand takes his place in the circle.
"Calmed down, Prime Minister?" Edelgard asks politely. There is that usual edge in her voice, however, that suggests a rising threat if her standards are not met.
"Ah, y-yes!" Ferdinand responds, barely able to keep the tremble out of his voice.
"I see the walk in the gardens has soothed your frayed nerves," Edelgard adds. Her eyes flick to Hubert, but only for a fraction of an instant. "The exercise has put color into your cheeks."
A rose garden blossoms on Ferdinand's cheeks and down his neck. Hubert doesn't bother to mask his amused smirk. Even worse, he inclines his head, bowing in Ferdinand's direction.
"I do apologize, Prime Minister Aegir, for earlier. Perhaps I could have been... gentler in my handling of the situation."
Ferdinand, for a change, is speechless. He can only stare at Hubert, knowing this embarrassment is something he intends to exact revenge for in the privacy of their bed tonight. And so, he puts on his best smile and bows his head in return, all the while knowing his riding crop will get the better of that smarmy grin once the party is over.