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Hubert crosses his arms and frowns. "Your story sounds unlikely in the extreme, and yet... if there is even the slightest chance that it is true, it is fair to say that the consequences to the empire would be significant."
His mirror image simply waits, silent. Hubert knows that tactic. He despises it, and despises this stranger with his face, too much of it on display. What on earth will possess him to butcher his hair so. Ferdinand is obviously disconcerted by the unobstructed sight of so much of Hubert's leering countenance, unable to stop taking unsubtle glances at the man's face. As if following Hubert's train of thought, the man's eyes rest on Ferdinand next.
Ferdinand blushes at being caught out. "I... well, as much as I hate to admit it, I agree with Hubert, I suppose." he says, looking away from them both.
The man's mouth curves ever so lightly. Hubert has never wanted to punch his own face more.
Ferdinand claps his hands together, drawing Hubert's attention. "Well!" Ferdinand says, briskly. "shall we proceed?"
The man's smile grows wider, softer as he aims it at Ferdinand, and Hubert snaps out, "No point in delaying."
"Indeed," the man says, with his same infuriating self-possession and knowing eyes. "Perhaps in the next room, then. I believe it should be... ah, yes, about the same as I remember..."
----
As they proceed with the next steps, Hubert judges it an expedient moment to speak up. "I insist on having my direct participation in this little farce be confined only to the absolute necessary actions required. I do not see a need to prolong the experience unnecessarily."
The man looks at him for a long moment, and then blandly says, "I understand. I will endeavor to limit your participation as much as can be practical, given the circumstances." Hubert should feel victorious, like he has more control, but still feels wretchedly behind, as though he is grasping at straws.
Ferdinand fiddles with his cravat. "Ah... Hubert?" They both turn to look at him, and Ferdinand blinks. "Oh, dear, I do not know why I did not foresee this being a problem. Ah. Instructor... Hubert?"
The man laughs, genuinely, striking them both into befuddled silence. "Oh, saints forfend! I would make for a miserable instructor. I am only willing to chance it now due to my personal knowledge of the subject," he says, still mirthful. Ferdinand's eyes widen and he pinks up even more. "...The subject in question being my student, of course," he adds, but he is smirking. At Hubert.
Hubert takes one brief moment, a breath. "Perhaps simply Vestra, then," he says, smoothly enough to congratulate himself.
The man, that is, Vestra, nods. "That shall do nicely. Now, Ferdinand," and there it is again, that faintest trace of warmth, perhaps only detectable by Hubert due to his familiarity with his own voice, "What is it that you wanted to ask about?"
"Just, that... well, it is silly. I suppose there is no helping that... that... that I shall need to be completely..." Vestra takes pity on him far sooner than Hubert would have.
"I think in the end that you will be rather grateful to have done so, yes. It is not an activity that I would call conducive to leaving your attire in its optimal condition," Vestra says. His voice still has that slight warmth, but it also has a note of finality. To Hubert's indignation, Ferdinand responds readily to that note, nodding and hastily getting on with disrobing. Oh, so he'll be accommodating if it's for this virtual stranger? He won't snipe and quibble at his every word? Hubert fumes at what is clearly yet another sign of Ferdinand's innate disloyalty to the empire as he similarly proceeds with ridding himself of his own garments.
He notes bitterly that Vestra is making no move to do anything similar. Sneering internally, he's sure that Vestra would attribute it to all that rot he babbled on about the principle of the thing, how Vestra swore he wouldn't be taking any liberties beyond the necessary, like it wasn't infinitely more likely that this whole setup was due to some depraved plot of Vestra's than any of it was going to end up being of actual benefit to the Empire.
"Ah." Ferdinand speaks up, uncharacteristically shy. Hubert sees him in his peripheral vision, pale and bare and pink, and does not look. Does not want to look. He'll be seeing his fill soon enough. He has his own matters to be getting on with. He doesn't expect that his own nakedness is going to lend any particular charm to the proceedings, but he can't imagine that being half naked is going to look anything but ridiculous, perhaps weak. Vestra is saying something to Ferdinand, which Hubert will not hear. He reluctantly pushes down his smallclothes instead, despite the current personal state of affairs this exposes. Well, he is quite a young man still. It's only natural, surely, that even broaching the topic would be somewhat... stirring. He sets his clothing neatly to the side, and turns to face the chaise the other two are maneuvering onto.
Vestra's hands are brisk but kind as they arrange Ferdinand, turning him around and gently placing him upon Vestra's fully clothed lap. He arranges Ferdinand's legs so that they splay to either side of Vestra's thighs, surely a prosaic move to facilitate the next steps in this process. However, looking upon the scene, Hubert's mind becomes stuck on the word exposed.
Against Vestra's dark garments, Ferdinand is one long line of pale, soft skin and burgeoning muscle, causing any variations in coloring to stand out all the more strikingly. A few green and blue bruises from training, nipples an absurd pink and already stiff and reaching. The bright touches of hair on Ferdinand's body are delicate, his chest and armpits and especially so at his lap, vibrant wisps framing his already stiff cock, lightly tracing his heavy, hanging balls. His cock itself is not notably large or small, average and pleasantly shaped, but also a rather aesthetic flushed pink, complimenting the flush traveling down his chest and the one at his hole as well. His knees, his feet, the curve and cut of his hips, the underside of his pectorals, all feel somehow just as shocking to see as the rest, all of it novel and unbearably intimate and utterly unlike Ferdinand von Aegir, buttoned-up proper noble of nobles.
Hubert realizes that Ferdinand can see him looking, and quickly shifts his eyes to Vestra. "So? What's your oh so wise guidance?"
"First, preparation is of the utmost importance," Vestra says, gently, pulling a vial from his pocket. His voice must be directly in Ferdinand's ear, and Hubert really thought any version of him would be wiser than that. The point is surely not to frighten Ferdinand any more than they must, and Ferdinand visibly shudders as Vestra continues, "For practical reasons, of course, and.. but we were not going to get into any of the frivolous details, were we?"
"Quite right," Hubert says, "and so hadn't you better just get on with it, already?"
"As you say," Vestra says, low, and reaches his arms in front of Ferdinand to uncork the vial where Ferdinand can see. Ferdinand visibly gulps as Vestra coats his fingers in the substance, clear and glistening, Ferdinand's eyes glued to the sight. "I trust you have some idea of what's next, Ferdinand?" Vestra says, setting the vial to one side and brushing Ferdinand's cheek in what absolutely qualifies as an unnecessary action.
"I... I... are you really going to..." Ferdinand stutters out, as Vestra's one hand descends lower and lower, the other hand moving on to stroking his hair. Hubert tries to key into the focused state of mind he drops into when learning, but although he is paying very sharp attention indeed to Vestra's and Ferdinand's every move, he finds his normal clarity of thought fuzzy, analysis not occurring, as Vestra moves his knees out to nudge Ferdinand's legs a little wider, leaving his little hole ever more accessible to Vestra's seeking fingers. Immediately after Ferdinand is moved, Vestra's fingers start tracing a delicate circle around Ferdinand's furled entrance, and Hubert's entire world is the gleam of the oil left in the wake of Vestra's fingers, the slight movement as Ferdinand's hole twitches.
Ferdinand is now trembling all over as Vestra makes soft, meaningless noises at him, one finger now still moving around and around, until at last just the tip of it sinks inside, and Ferdinand gasps with it.
"Oh that is... rather strange," Ferdinand says, eyes very wide, looking down at his body as if he can see the place where he has been breached. Vestra's finger moves in him gently, just barely pushing in and out, and Ferdinand squirms slightly.
Vestra's finger proceeds to move in more, Ferdinand's rim clinging and pulling at his knuckle as Vestra gradually increases the depth. Ferdinand is still frowning slightly, a startlingly familiar look of concentration and determination on his face, a look from the classroom that seems wholly out of place in this context. Ferdinand continues to endure as Vestra moves onto something more like actual penetration. Hubert realizes that he does not have any concept of how long he has stood here, uselessly watching.
Vestra's finger withdraws, which seems much too soon, except that it appears that Vestra is simply reapplying oil to his fingers. Ferdinand takes in a slow breath, and Vestra pauses. Ferdinand looks up at him, and says firmly, "I am ready."
Vestra's mouth quirks up, but he obligingly reaches down once again to Ferdinand's wet entrance. This time he inserts two fingers, and Ferdinand sucks in a breath. Again, Vestra starts slowly, carefully, with shallow motions that grow gradually deeper and deeper. Vestra's settled into a languorous rhythm, pushing steadily in and out, when he motions to get Hubert's attention, looking at him. Hubert raises an eyebrow, and Vestra nods to the vial sitting on the bed beside him. Hubert sniffs, but moves to grab it. Ferdinand makes a small, startled noise as Hubert draws close to him, which he supposes he could have predicted, and Hubert quickly withdraws, Ferdinand's eyes tracking him, widening when they see what he holds.
"Fingers first," Vestra says, mildly, continuing his efforts in Ferdinand. Vestra's managed to catch Hubert at the exact moment before he was going to prepare his diligently neglected cock. Hubert begrudgingly obeys, coating the fingers on this hand. Messy. Vestra nods him over. "Add one of yours. Copy what I have done."
At the words, Ferdinand makes a tiny, cut-off yelp, immediately blushing and looking away. He is breathing more heavily, eyeing Hubert's actions from the side. Hubert steels himself, and plunges in, metaphorically and physically. He is still mindful of how he should be careful, but does not allow himself to pointlessly hesitate.
As his finger sinks in, he primarily notices that it is extremely strange to feel another's fingers so intimately at work, much less fingers that are also technically his own. Vestra chuckles, and Hubert realizes that he must have been making a face. How irritating for his control to have slipped to that extent. Vestra withdraws his fingers, and now Hubert has only the feel of Ferdinand to focus on. His finger glides in smoothly now, wet and soft, and he hisses a breath.
Vestra murmurs, "Now, work your way up to three." Ferdinand twitches.
Hubert doesn't mean to be outdone by this licentious ass, but he is also not made of stone. It is taking everything he has to not connect the sensations he's currently experiencing to the acts he is about to commit. Hubert adds a second finger almost immediately, hurrying things up, finding that it is accommodated just as easily, and thrusts mechanically in and out while trying to think of nothing at all. Vestra moves his freed hands up and down Ferdinand's sides, soothingly, drawing a soft cry from him. Hubert's fingers stutter, earning him another soft cry, and he concentrates furiously on the logistics of adding a third. It's tight, but gives way, and as he keeps working his way in Ferdinand just keeps making noises. Of course he is noisy, how could Hubert have expected otherwise? He tries to summon his usual irritation at Ferdinand and his perpetual noise to blunt the edge of the sights and sounds of the present, and finds it unduly difficult.
Vestra nuzzles the side of Ferdinand's face, and murmurs, "Explore a little. Push upwards with your fingers."
Hubert looks at him, disbelieving, but follows the advice tentatively. His fingers slow, and fiddle around, resulting in tiny squeaks from Ferdinand. He brushes against what is perhaps a slightly different texture, and Ferdinand jolts, stiffening. Ah? Hubert looks up at Vestra, who nods, pleased. Hubert focuses back on his fingers, and presses firmly up with all three fingers. Ferdinand throws his head back with a strangled, desperate sound that has Hubert breaking out in a sweat.
"Very good. Leave that for now, and keep stretching him," Vestra directs, as Ferdinand takes deep, gasping breaths, eyes dazed. "But keep in mind where it was you found that spot." Hubert does not want to keep being so docilely obedient, but judges it more prudent to not continue to draw those kinds of noises out of Ferdinand at the moment, and so continues to mindlessly press in and out.
Finally Vestra peers over, and nods. Hubert breathes out a sigh of relief, that they will be moving on, that they are ever closer to drawing to a close and allowing him to put this whole wretched business out of his mind, and withdraws his fingers.
Vestra's petting hands draw down once again, one hand starting to play at Ferdinand's rim, and Ferdinand lets out a little stuttering breath of surprise at the sensation. What, is Vestra checking Hubert's work? Shall he now be graded on his fingering technique? Vestra's hand continues as his other hand slides up to Ferdinand's chest. Ferdinand draws in a short breath as Vestra's fingers brush against a stiff nipple.
Hubert's patience breaks. "Well? What is your verdict?"
Vestra looks over at him, amused. "Perfectly adequate," he says, and Hubert grinds his teeth, "but now I believe it is the time for some, hmm, unnecessary actions." He tweaks one nipple with one hand and dives in just slightly with the other, causing Ferdinand to yelp.
"Really? Must you?" Hubert says, venomously. Why is the man so bent on prolonging this absurdity.
"I do feel that I must," Vestra says, resting his chin on Ferdinand's shoulder obnoxiously, never ceasing in his movements, Ferdinand beginning to squirm and blush, shooting tense glances at Hubert. "This is Ferdinand's first time, after all," and Ferdinand blushes even more furiously, opens his mouth to hurriedly interject, and is silenced by the firm push in of two of Vestra's fingers, "and it would only be polite to give the occasion at least a little of the attention that it is due, don't you think?"
Hubert has not been thinking in these terms. He has very precisely not been thinking in these terms. He does not appreciate the reminder, and especially does not appreciate this encroaching thoughtfulness on Vestra’s part.
"You can prepare yourself, while you wait," Vestra says, nodding to the abandoned oil. "And while I did promise that I would confine your involvement only to what is strictly necessary, you may feel free to observe regardless." He smiles up at Hubert as he continues to play with Ferdinand, perfectly content.
Hubert cannot keep himself from a snarl. He pointedly tears his gaze away from Ferdinand, turns bodily away to look for the blasted oil. Not that this will occupy him for any more than a few moments, but he supposes he might as well get it over with now and let some of the excitement of the manual stimulation die down. He would prefer to be in another room, perhaps another country, whatever it would take to be sufficiently far enough away from the slick sounds and small whines and gasps coming from far too close, but he cannot leave Ferdinand abandoned in the hands of some strange man.
Hubert slicks himself up brusquely, sets the oil down, stares at the wall, waiting. The noises continue. He finds his foot tapping and mentally shakes himself. Is all his discipline really so easily eroded? Perhaps this is a sign that he should shore up his training, go back to the basics. This month is relatively light, which is perhaps why Vestra chose it. He could easily fit in some more work... now he is chewing on his nails. Frustrated rage surges up in him. When will they just stop? How much more indulging can Ferdinand’s circumstances possibly need?
Hubert breaks and whirls, and stops dead. Vestra looks wholly unsurprised, smiling up at him in a way that's even worse than a smirk. Ferdinand is breathtaking, all the more so for Hubert not having had the sight of him in front of him for some moments. Ferdinand is open mouthed, gasping, his head hanging and his face looking lost, his nipples slightly red, his hole as well, Vestra just now withdrawing three fingers of his own from it. "Ah, excellent timing," Vestra says, smoothly. "I believe now we may commence with the rest." Ferdinand makes a choked off noise, head flying up to make sudden, violent eye contact with Hubert. Hubert does not want to know what his own face looks like.
Hubert swallows. Ferdinand is looking at him, eyes shocked, chewing at his lip and restlessly grasping at Vestra's arms. Ferdinand's cock is at full attention, flushed fully red now and gleaming wet. Hubert cannot, will not think about that any further.
Vestra's hands begin moving again, distracting him, but as Vestra’s goal seems to have been to grip at Ferdinand's ass and spread him open, it is not a distraction that provides Hubert any mental stability, and Ferdinand clutches backwards at Vestra's clothing, tensing. Does Vestra think Hubert incapable of finding his way without the visual aid? Nonsense. Hubert hisses at himself when he notices that his hand is shaking as he brings it to grip his cock so that he may line himself up.
"Go slowly," Vestra says, watching him. Tch.
"I see now why you considered it so vitally important to ensure that you could impart your wisdom to us on the subject. Surely I could not have guessed that such a course of action would be the optimal one," Hubert says.
Vestra does not acknowledge him, naturally, but Hubert finds some comfort in the familiarity of sarcasm, his hand steadying as he guides himself in. Ferdiand's breath is picking up, going faster and faster, eyes like dark circles in his head, face disbelieving. Looking at him, Hubert somewhat cannot begrudge Vestra his overcaution, somewhat shares it. Slowly, Hubert presses against Ferdinand's well-used hole, and slides in with only minimal effort. Ferdinand whines, sounding somewhere between ecstatic and terrified. Hubert is sure Vestra would have something smug to say about his ease being enabled by all his prior 'unnecessary actions', but even his ever building irritation at the man can't hold up against the sensation shooting through him. It is tight, pulling at him with heated softness, wet, it is Ferdinand, he is pressing into Ferdinand and Ferdinand's body is accepting him.
Hubert has to still for a long moment half-way in. At least he can say he's just following the advice given to him to be careful, does not have to admit to the effort it takes to draw himself back from the edge from just this much. Damn the man. Damn Ferdinand. Why did he ever go along with this? If he had not, he would not.. would not be sinking in further, now engulfed fully in that welcoming heat. Ferdinand would not be shuddering out a sigh, face shocked, pretty mouth open in wonder.
"When you are ready, do the same again; start out slow and deep," Vestra says, calmly. ... He would not be subject to this infuriating man's insultingly obvious direction and condescending attitude.
Still, he takes his moment, closes his eyes, thinks of the effects of the vilest poisons he knows, and breathes until he is sure he can master himself. He opens his eyes to a Ferdinand who is biting his lip and trembling again, still clutching at Vestra. He hurriedly focuses instead on his task, drawing out slowly, gritting his teeth against Ferdinand's shocked noise, and then pushing in again, going as deep as he can. Ferdinand sighs out a soft exhalation, shuddering, as Hubert fully seats himself. As Hubert pulls out and goes again, and again, the slow pace a sweet torment, Ferdinand continues to make quiet, pleased sounds, like he is pleasantly surprised at the feelings each time.
"Hmmm," Vestra hums, considering. Hubert has no attention left for the man, until Vestra thoughtfully leans back to give himself room to palm at Ferdinand's head, fingers threading in his mussed tresses, and grips and pulls, oh so gently. Ferdinand writhes upwards, mouth open in a soundless gasp and tightens on Hubert’s cock.
Curse him, curse him, curse him, Hubert pauses and breathes heavily, glaring up at Vestra. "What is it you are doing?" he says.
"Experimenting," Vestra says, careless.
"What experimenting, I thought you had all the knowledge at hand already," Hubert hisses.
Ferdinand is tense, anticipatory, waiting on one or the other of them to make a move. Hubert will never admit it but he needs the respite desperately, needs the refuge of anger and annoyance.
"Well, there's a lesson for you, then. Each partner will have different things they respond to; there is no universal technique. A willingness to explore will serve you well," Vestra says, scratching gently now at Ferdinand's scalp, making him whimper. "As you have firmly established that you would prefer to not be personally involved in any extraneous activities, I shall proceed on my own, but I would again recommend taking note of how I go about the business." Vestra smiles benignly at Hubert.
Vestra's hand slides out of Ferdinand's hair, with one last tug at one glowing lock that makes Ferdinand faintly whine. He moves on to using both of his hands to cup Ferdinand's chest, drawing a bewildered sound out of Ferdinand. "What are you?" Ferdinand starts saying, and then Vestra’s fingers flick out at his nipples and the rest of Ferdinand's sentence is lost to a sharply indrawn breath. He clenches down yet again on Hubert, whose hips jerk forward in response. Thus reminded, Hubert resumes his achingly slow pace.
"These are quite lovely," Vestra says, still in Ferdinand’s ear, and Ferdinand makes a startled, lost sound.
"What, my... my..." Ferdinand stutters out.
"Your breasts," Vestra finishes for him, smoothly, and Ferdinand makes another strangled noise. "Plush and firm. And so sensitive," he continues, barely flicking at Ferdinand's nipples once again and again drawing a cry from him.
Hubert is not listening, refuses to, refuses to note any of this. He will continue on until they have finally done enough. He does not watch as Vestra begins teasing at Ferdinand's nipples more and more, first pressing into one and then the other, drawing his calloused fingertips slowly across them, then pinching at them, punishing. He does not hear Ferdinand make a sound at each and every touch, does not see Ferdinand’s body respond so readily, and although he cannot help but feel every time Ferdinand continues to clench down on his cock, he does not note the aftereffects of each time reverberating through Ferdinand.
At last, Vestra stills, and looks to Hubert. "I would recommend trying a faster pace now. And you did not forget, did you, the exercise we went through before? I hope you took note of what you discovered. I believe that level of recall should be within your capabilities," Vestra says.
Oh, he believes, does he? Hubert shall show him his capabilities. It takes a couple of thrusts for Hubert to get acclimated to the accelerated pace, Ferdinand hiccuping a breath at each thrust in, but then Hubert is nearly grateful to have something else to concentrate on. It does not take a great leap of logic to put together Vestra's meaning, and Hubert angles his hips and adjusts his thrusts carefully until one strong push in has Ferdinand nearly shrieking. Well. Success, Hubert supposes.
"Yes, excellent. Just like that, keep going, steady," Vestra says.
"I do not need you to tell me that," Hubert says, growling, but following along with Vestra's words regardless.
Ferdinand's cries pitch even higher, and Hubert drags his eyes up to see both of Vestra's hands pinch at Ferdinand's nipples, reddening them further. Vestra makes eye contact with Hubert and deliberately twists them just as Hubert slams in again, causing Ferdinand to wail out in his pleasure. He does not need Vestra's raised eyebrow to hear the echo of the phrase unnecessary actions again, and spitefully, he increases his pace. Vestra hums, eyes smiling, and ducks his head down to mouth at Ferdinand's ear.
Ferdinand's cries grow louder and louder, hands scrabbling at Vestra's arms, whether to bring them closer or push them away is hard to say. His chest is rising and he is writhing on Vestra's lap as Vestra continues to tease him, nipping at him and relentlessly toying at his chest. Hubert is blindly continuing, performing the same action again and again and again and ignoring the effects on himself, trying to lose himself in simple, repetitive physical action.
Finally, some thing in Ferdinand meets its peak, spills over, and with a final twist of Vestra's fingers, lingering at his nipples as Hubert thrusts in again and again, Ferdinand stiffens and then suddenly collapses, crying out in desperate pleasure, cock jumping and spurting all over himself, untouched. Hubert's mouth hangs open as he slows and then stops, heart beating harder at the sight. How unnatural, surely, to see Ferdinand so undone, perfectly vulgar. See him so lost in himself and his pleasure, beautiful in his extremity.
Finally finished, Ferdinand fully collapses and lays against Vestra, gulping in great breaths, eyes misty and stomach covered in the evidence of his own pleasure. Hubert digs his fingers into Ferdinand's hips even harder, holding himself back by the thinnest of margins, each isolated sight and sensation sufficient to drive him mad on its own if he allowed himself to process any one of them fully.
Vestra grabs Ferdinand's wrists, holds them up by Ferdinand's head, as Ferdinand blinks in confusion and looks up at him. "Continue," Vestra says to Hubert, ignoring Ferdinand as Ferdinand's eyes widen. Hubert cannot help the snap of his hips.
Ferdinand's head whips around to look at Hubert at the motion, gasping out, "Hubert, ah, no, too sensitive!"
Vestra jerks his head at Hubert, stern. "Keep going," he commands yet again. Ferdinand soft and tightly clutching around him, Hubert can think of nothing but obeying.
Ferdinand wails, "Hubert..!" at the first thrust, and Hubert is pressing in again and again.
Ferdinand shrieks and writhes, stomach shining with his spend, tears falling from his eyes. Hubert can't look away, can't stop the snap of his hips. It's an endless feedback loop as every drag out and shove in of his cock leads to Ferdinand unspooling more and more, cries getting louder, his arms jerking in Vestra's hold, and Hubert loses more and more control. It does not help that the only thing he has been holding in his head is the motions he's been diligently following these past minutes, the angle already duly memorized.
As Hubert keeps going, as Ferdinand is rocked by Hubert's thrusts, Ferdinand shoots a poison-filled, teary glare at Hubert, mouth open and gasping, and between that and the sudden tightening from a particularly on-target thrust, Hubert finds himself surprised by his own orgasm rushing over him, relentless and absolute, taking any scrap of remaining reason with it. A final couple of shuddering thrusts, and Ferdinand is moaning as Hubert empties himself inside him.
"Th... that's...ah..." Ferdinand says, dazed, as Hubert pulls out with a tremendous final effort and tries to collect himself.
Vestra finally drops Ferdinand's wrists, and they fall limply to Ferdinand's sides. Ferdinand lays against Vestra, dazed, tear tracks on his cheeks, eyes still shining, spend drying on his stomach and leaking from his reddened hole, wrists starting to bruise from his struggles, along with one or two fingerprint bruises forming on his hips. His vibrant hair is in disarray, somehow still fetching, and his nipples are still reddened from Vestra's torments, this proof of Vestra's presence giving Hubert a vague and unwelcome sense of dissatisfaction.
Vestra allows them to gather their breath for a few moments before speaking up. "Well? The necessary part is over now," Vestra says, looking at Hubert coolly.
Hubert grits his teeth. "So it is," he manages, and turns stiffly to his clothes.
"Sweet boy, look at me? Not too much, was it? Of course not, not for Ferdinand von Aegir," Vestra says, infuriatingly saccharine. Ferdinand makes a soft, tired sound of agreement. Out of the corner of his eye Hubert can see Vestra reaching for a cloth and basin, having apparently planned ahead. Of course he did. Hubert continues to dress, absolutely ignoring the two of them.
Vestra wets the cloth and begins gently wiping Ferdinand down, and Ferdinand makes more pleased, quiet noises, each one ringing loudly in Hubert's ears. Hubert jerks his jacket on, finally finished, able to free himself from this nonsense, while Vestra continues on with his coddling. He turns to dismiss the pair, but seemingly cannot find his words, only looking on.
"Good boy, oh, you did so well, Ferdinand. So perfect for me," Vestra croons, as if it had not been Hubert doing all of the work. Ferdinand melts against Vestra, dreamy. Hubert finds his hands balled into fists, presumably out of his discomfort at the strange sight, Ferdinand's shamelessness grating at him. He itches to take Ferdinand away from Vestra, break up this jarring tableau. Vestra continues petting Ferdinand, but shoots Hubert an infuriatingly knowing look. It's practically sympathetic. Disgusting. Ferdinand burrows even further into Vestra's chest, the sight piling further onto Hubert's disquieted revulsion.
"If you will kindly hurry up," he finally says, coldly.
"No," Vestra says, pleasantly, and Hubert bristles further.
"Excuse me, I do not believe that I heard you quite correctly," Hubert says, drawing himself up to his full height. Vestra looks at him unimpressed.
"My goodness, I really do not remember ever being this much of a brute," Vestra says, and continues his ministrations. Hubert cannot stand him. He has already resolved that he cannot leave Ferdinand to Vestra, and so now he is trapped by the man's unwelcome, pointless whims.
Finally Vestra seems to be satisfied with his mother henning, and lifts Ferdinand off his lap to set him on the chaise. Vestra then leaves and comes back, bringing Ferdinand his clothing. Vestra gives Ferdinand's hair one last stroke, and says, "Here you are, Ferdinand. You are finished now, and you have done very well."
"Finally," Hubert hisses.
Vestra looks over at him, eyebrow raised. "Ah, my apologies. Could it be that you wanted to hear that you have also done a good job?" Hubert allows his expression to be his answer, and Vestra gives an amused huff. "Sadly, I am afraid that my time here has concluded."
Ferdinand looks up at this, very nearly decent again. His hair has even been tidied, Hubert notes. "Ah, that is a pity indeed. I would have liked to have learned more about the empire, or our roles in the future, or..." Vestra places a teasing finger against Ferdinand's lips, and Ferdinand's mouth snaps shut. Really, the sooner Vestra leaves the better. Hubert has no desire to listen to Ferdinand attempting to wring stories about his own noble self and his noble deeds out of this terrible man who has been here for far too long already.
"I have already told you, I cannot. But rest assured, I have accomplished exactly what I intended," Vestra says, looking slyly sideways at Hubert, who refuses to meet his eye. "and I leave you in capable enough hands, at least." He withdraws his finger, leaving Ferdinand looking slightly bereft, of all things. He formally bows to Ferdinand, and then to Hubert. "Do not bother seeing me out; I shall be gone presently," he says, and strides out the door. Good riddance.
Hubert and Ferdinand are now, however, left in an awkward moment. Although they are outwardly eminently presentable, no trace of any previous actions to be found, it does not mean that their actions of the past hours have had no impact. Hubert searches his mind for some means of extracting himself with at least a modicum of poise.
Ferdinand jerks up suddenly. "Wait! He did not tell us when you would be required to put these skills into use! When would we…" and he trails off, blushing furiously.
Hubert rolls his eyes. "I should doubt that we ever actually shall have to do anything like this again. I will need to take a thorough review of anything that seems changed to discover whatever his actual purpose was."
Ferdinand frowns to himself. "Then this was..." and he trails off, starting to curl in on himself. Ah. Hubert supposes that even Ferdinand can pick up on some level of subtext, now and again. Even if in this case it was wholly unintentional. He wouldn't have wanted... doesn't want it to be... Hubert simply finds that he cannot take the look that's bleeding into Ferdinand's face.
"Well. I suppose there is truly no saying for certain one way or the other," Hubert says, and hesitantly steps closer to Ferdinand, who then looks up at him, glowing in the setting sunlight. "Perhaps I should trust myself a little more," he continues, mouth twisting wryly. "And in addition, if it was truly needed... if the occasion is truly bound to occur... I... perhaps I would say that it would be wise to practice these, ah, skills. From time to time," and Hubert draws a tentative hand over Ferdinand's hair.
Ferdinand's wide eyes look up at him, as he unconsciously leans a little into Hubert's hand. Then he blinks and sits up, nodding eagerly. "Yes... yes, I agree! For the sake of the empire."
Hubert swallows, and nods. Of course. He quite agrees. Anything for the empire.