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“You have the most striking eyes I've ever seen.”
William smiled around the rim of his champagne flute, taking one last measured sip before lowering it. The pale gold edges of William’s mask gleamed softly as he looked up toward the voice.
“Such a bold thing to say to a stranger,” he said, letting the glass turn once between his fingers before it stilled. “Nevertheless, the compliment is appreciated.”
He looked over the man in front of him. To anyone else he wouldn't look even a bit out of place, but William saw the tilt of his bow tie, the odd crease in his jacket. This wasn't a man that put much thought into his appearance very often.
“Bold, you say.” The man's mask—dark with blue and silver detail—glinted faintly under the warm light of the chandelier above them. “I rather prefer honest.”
William hummed in consideration. “That's not a trait very commonly shared amongst the people you'll find here.”
“How cynical. Surely there's someone here who shares such a virtue.” The man inclined his head, studying him. “Yourself, perhaps?”
William’s smile shifted, something bittersweet claiming his lips. “To claim so would be dishonest. I lie quite frequently, you see.”
“And yet I find myself inclined to trust you more than anyone else in the room.”
“How generous,” William murmured. “To place such trust in a stranger.”
The man shrugged, almost too casual. “Perhaps we are no strangers. Who can tell—in this masquerade?”
“A dangerous game you play, sir.”
“And a game I'd quite like to continue.” He held out a gloved hand. “Care for a dance?”
William's heart fluttered traitorously in his chest, his fingers curling faintly against the stem of his glass. He took a steadying sip before setting it down on a nearby surface.
“I suppose I could spare you one,” he said, slipping his hand into the stranger’s.
He was rewarded with a victorious grin—and a meaningful squeeze of his hand—before being led onto the dance floor.
A nearby couple cast them a scrutinizing look, though they held their tongues in favor of the music.
“You don’t mind following, do you?” the man asked as he drew him in.
William’s eyes softened as he closed the distance between them, his free hand rising to rest at the man’s shoulder.
“Not for you,” he whispered.
They fell into a simple step as the music swelled, strings and piano weaving together in soft harmony. The hand at William’s back guided him with effortless precision—a sway here, a turn there—each movement flowing into the next. It felt practiced. Familiar. As though they had always danced together.
“I can't help but feel as though we've danced before,” the man said, pulling him into a sharper twist.
“I can't recall when that would have been,” William replied honestly, following the motion with ease.
A thoughtful hum. “Perhaps it was only a dream, then.” He pulled William a fraction closer. “Though I'm certain you were the one leading.”
William’s hand tightened at the man’s shoulder, his lips pressing thin for a moment before easing.
“Do you often dream of being led?” he asked, voice even.
“Only by one man in particular,” the stranger replied.
The tempo quickened, just slightly. The hand at William’s back tightened as they turned, pulling him closer. William let his own hand shift, fingers curling into the fabric at the man’s bicep. He could feel their shared breath where they were pressed chest to chest.
“You’re very forward,” he said, voice low, measured.
“And yet you haven’t let go.”
It was only then that William noticed the music had changed, the swell of strings giving way to something lighter, quicker.
To their left, a small circle of nobles had gathered, their attention fixed and their disapproval not even slightly concealed.
He stilled. Then, deliberately, he stepped back, his hand slipping from the man’s shoulder.
“I believe I promised you one dance,” he said.
The man didn’t move away.
“Then perhaps,” he said, a hint of something deeper in his voice, “you might allow me conversation instead.”
William hesitated. His gaze lifted, catching on the man’s eyes—blue, bright even beneath the mask, fixed on him with an intensity that felt altogether too familiar. Dangerous.
“For a short while,” he said at last.
He turned before the moment could stretch any further, stepping away from the floor and toward the open doors that led out onto the balcony.
The sun had already dipped below the horizon, twilight settling over the manor grounds. Crisp evening air filled William’s lungs, refreshing after the stifling atmosphere of the hall.
The balcony doors eased shut behind them, muffling the music into something distant.
For a moment, neither spoke.
William rested his gloved hands lightly against the stone railing, gaze drifting out across the darkening grounds below.
“I suspect,” he said at last, “that we’ve given the room something to gossip about.”
“Let them gossip.”
The man settled beside him, close enough that William could feel the warmth of him even through the evening chill.
“You seem very concerned with what people think,” he said.
“Not concerned,” William replied. “Merely aware.”
“Their outrage feels almost performative,” the man said.
William glanced sideways at him. “You sound disappointed.”
“I think if one is going to disapprove of something, they ought to do it honestly.”
“And what exactly is it they disapprove of?”
The man’s gaze lingered on him. “You know perfectly well.”
William held his gaze, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
The music drifted faintly through the closed doors behind them, softened now by distance. Somewhere below, laughter carried across the gardens before fading into the night air.
The man stepped closer. William could feel the heat of him more clearly now.
“You don’t seem particularly outraged yourself,” he murmured.
William’s breath caught quietly behind his ribs.
“No,” he admitted.
The admission settled heavily between them.
His gaze dropped—briefly, traitorously—to the man’s mouth. He saw the moment it was noticed.
Slowly, deliberately, the distance between them narrowed.
Then—
William’s hand landed against the man’s chest, stopping him from closing the remaining space.
“Sher—” The sound caught sharply in his throat, the name dying unfinished on his lips. “This is a terrible idea…”
The man’s hands rose slowly, settling at William’s waist with a familiarity that sent heat curling through him.
“Why?” he asked softly.
William’s breath caught again as the distance between them narrowed to almost nothing.
“What harm is there,” the man murmured, “in two strangers indulging in a bit of reckless fun?”
The word lingered between them.
Strangers.
As though that made any of this safe.
William’s hand remained against the man’s chest for one lingering moment more. Then, slowly, his fingers loosened. The shift was slight. Permission disguised as surrender.
One hand slid higher along William’s waist as the last of the distance between them disappeared.
The kiss was soft—slow, deliberate. The sort of kiss that lingered long enough to say all the things neither of them could ever risk speaking aloud.
William felt the breath leave him quietly as he leaned into it despite himself, gloved fingers tightening once more against dark fabric.
For a moment, there was no ballroom. No music drifting faintly through the doors behind them. No watching eyes.
Only this.
When they finally parted, they remained close enough that William could still feel the warmth of his breath against his mouth.
“You truly are reckless,” he murmured.
A faint smile touched the man’s lips beneath his mask.
“Only tonight.”