kink_bingo: Semper fidelis
The heavy curtains were being open, making the morning light filter in the room. Someone stirred in the imperious canopy and the servant bowed.
“Good morning, Lord Ross,” he greeted, propping the pillows for the noble to lean onto and serving him breakfast.
George Ryan Ross III had never been a very talkative man and rarely spoke to his servants, except when he had to reprimand them when they didn’t respect his orders. The problem was that he never gave clear instructions: he expected the servants to know what he needed, when he needed it, why he needed it. The only one able to put up with Lord Ross’ quirky personality was Brendon, who was in fact his personal valet and the head servant despite the young age.
Giving Lord Ross the time to have breakfast, Brendon opened the door to the tiled bathroom and prepared the bath with the right amount of bubbles, setting a cozy robe on the chair and lining perfumed oils and shampoos at the feet of the pristine bathtub, one of those propped on lion feet. He then headed to the walk-in closet to choose a suit out of the many tailored clothes the noble possessed, calling a pretty faced maid to iron it.
Once Lord Ross finished his breakfast, Brendon gave the tray to another servant and followed the noble in the bathroom.
The lord never move a finger. It was Brendon’s duty to take care of his persona in every aspect, from washing him to tying his shoelaces to bringing him what he wanted, also taking care of some aspects of his business: he was literally the noble’s shadow, his right arm, his formidable and reliable assistant.
Brendon washed Lord Ross with gentle yet firm strokes, paying particular attention when he washed the noble’s hair with soothing massages of the scalp, in which the richer man leaned to enjoy the relaxing gesture. The butler held the bath robe for his master to wear and diligently dried him off with soft towels; they then headed back in the bedroom, where Brendon helped Lord Ross wear his freshly ironed clothes of exquisite manufacture, slipping on the underwear and trousers, buttoning his crispy shirt, adjusting the round clock in the pocket of the vest and shrugging the jacket on. The valet didn’t even need to hand the man the cloak and walking stick, he knew Lord Ross didn’t have any plan to go out without the noble’s input, as always.
Brendon’s highlight of the day was when Lord Ross gave him a tiny grateful smile: they were so rare that the valet had to fight the urge to beam at his master, nodding professionally at him instead and excusing himself. He sighed proudly when he closed the door behind himself and headed down the hallway to take care of other duties, nodding his greetings to the servant he crossed.
He was pretty sure to be the only one to receive such acknowledgement from the Lord, it was almost inebriating.