Chapter Text
Knightsbridge, London
19 October, 1856
Tuesday
This dress really was the envy of all. Noctis stood amongst the crowd and stared, listening to the idyl whispers floating around the streets of Knightsbridge.
“I’ve never seen a neckline quite that low…” some woman remarked. Indeed, the dress sported a v-shaped neckline that dipped down almost to the navel area. One would need to wear a chemisette to cover the bust.
“Harrods has gone to the dogs,” a man sniffed. “They’ve fallen to this new fashion nonsense.”
In truth, it was rather new.
Noctis adjusted the brim of his top hat and looked harder. He’d heard a rumor that Harrods department store was about to unveil a new day dress they had been working on for months. Everyone was curious about it and even Noctis had made it his business to be in Knightsbridge this afternoon for the reveal.
But this defied expectations!
“I’d like to see the woman that would wear such a thing in the daytime hours,” another woman sneered. “You certainly wouldn’t find a woman like that except in Whitechapel!”
A few people laughed. Noctis frowned. He definitely did not think someone had to be a woman of the night to appreciate new fashion. Honestly, he would love to see someone wearing that down the street. Not for any occasion, just because it was a normal day and this was a dress meant to be worn. With confidence and a steady, unselfconscious stride; the kind of poise such a dress called for.
Seriously. Why not?
“Them East End girls have to work too, love,” a man answered. A few snickers rang through the crowd.
Yeah, right. The price tag alone would chase away anyone below Noctis’s station. A pretty penny for such finery. It seemed fair.
The dress was made of sheer muslin and wool. The sleeves just barely met the wrists, but they were loose. They hung off the store model in a teasing fashion, billowing out to advertise the bare arms that lay underneath. There were five ruffles along the skirt—the crinoline was not overdone, as was the new fashion these days. Just enough. A tight bodice in the middle giving way to an appealing hourglass shape.
To say nothing of the color. A deep, dark purple. The material actually appeared black at first blush, but when you looked twice you noticed the way bold color seeped into the edges of the sleeves. Violet hues drenched the layers of the skirt, highlighted by ebony trim to give a deceiving kind of contrast.
Noctis had never seen anything like it before. Neither had anyone else.
He gazed curiously at the mid section. Unconsciously, he sucked in his breath and imagined what it would feel like to wear the corset necessary to fit into a dress like this. He’d always wondered. The waist shape it gave a woman was so appealing…
Noctis bit his lip and ran a hand down his stomach. By comparison, the high waist of his breeches felt drab and silly. He wore the same outfit every day! Just a slight variation in coat and color, that was it.
How exciting would it be to wear something as mesmerizing and bespoke as this new dress…?
“The caged crinoline really is lighter, isn’t it?” a bemused young woman mentioned from the sidelines.
She was referring to the wired structure that gave the dress and petticoat its shape. Noctis knew from watching his mother dress as a young child that those underskirts used to be made of layers upon layers of material. But this one was not. It was just a caged hoop skirt made out of whalebone and reeds. So much lighter! Not nearly as much extra material to worry about, and the petticoat would still hold its shape. Leaving a woman free to frolic about from chore to chore, as women were wont to do.
A few of the younger women in the crowd simpered with jealousy. Noctis imagined how their own petticoats must chafe when they thought about the freedom of the thinner, lighter, caged crinoline.
Someone was going to snap this dress right up, Noctis thought. As well they should. It was the height of fashion. Not quite avant-garde, but certainly outside the norm. Any woman flouncing around town in that get up would be the belle of the ball, the talk of the town.
The only question now—the one gluing everyone to the streets outside of the Harrods' department store on an otherwise normal Tuesday morning—was: Who would be the one to purchase this new dress?
Noctis huffed. So unfair that it would go to one of those tittering housewives, or some recently debuted coquette. A dress like that was special. It should go to a higher purpose, something out of the ordinary. Hell, the color would look great on Noctis! If anything he should be the one to wear it—
Making up his mind in mere seconds, Noctis grunted a laugh and strode into the store. The crowd parted for him, sensing his aura of determination. He removed his hat dramatically, flashed the salesman a smile, and paid for the dress with one dramatic sweep of his pen.
When the salesman turned the sign in the window to read “sold,” Noctis was sure he had never been more proud of himself.
The rest of the crowd just gaped when the son of Lord Caelum marched out with a gift receipt in hand. They watched as Noctis loudly called back to the salesman that he would be expecting their delivery by carriage the following Sunday.
Some young women whispered behind their hands. Had the obstinate young master finally found a sweetheart? Some debutante brimming with fortune, lucky enough that the Caelum heir wanted to lavish her with a spectacular gift? How unfair.
The older women in the crowd shook their heads disapprovingly. “I always knew that boy was wayward,” they remarked. After this, who could say otherwise?
“Old man Regis has his hands full, that’s for certain,” some of the older men said. They felt sympathy for Lord Caelum, who was a good acquaintance by anyone’s standards. “What did he do to deserve a lad like that?”
And still, a few of the younger men in the crowd nodded pointedly at Noctis as he passed. “Good on you, mate,” they muttered. Noctis had very few of his own friends (wasn’t he just a little too full of himself at day’s end? Stand-offish in an unappealing way? Maybe slightly…odd?), but they could still respect that level of boldness.
Noctis absorbed all of the chatter. His grin widened.
“Just watch me,” he said under his breath.
They were all so simpleminded! It almost made Noctis sick to his stomach.
But whatever. He was going to fool them all.
_________________________________________________
Chiswick, London
25 October, 1856
Monday - Morning
“Are you quite sure this is a good idea, Master Caelum?”
Ignis tugged tightly on the strings of the corset Noctis had purchased a week ago. It was Noctis’s good luck that Ignis even knew how to tie a corset like this; nothing in the bespactacled man’s valet training had ever covered women’s garments. But, fortunately, Ignis had made it his own business to become adept in dressing both male and female vestments. Purely for his own fascination at first. And then later because it became apparent Ignis might need to double as the majordomo of the Caelum household. In which case he should be well-versed in all accoutrements, he thought.
Noctis stood in front of his bedroom mirror, wearing only a chemisette and some short men’s pantaloons. He had not gotten around to purchasing any women’s drawers, and well…he felt kind of weird asking one of the maids to borrow theirs. They’d probably think he was some kind of pervert who got off on handling women’s underthings…
Which he wasn’t. And he didn’t. To be clear.
Really, the only person Noctis could trust to help him with this was Ignis. Because damn he really could not do this alone. So many laces and ties—and they had not even tackled the crinoline yet!
“It’ll be fine, Iggy,” Noctis struggled to say, as he held his breath. He sucked in air again when Ignis tightened the laces even further. The corset was pale pink and made from whalebone. Much, much, much tighter than Noctis had expected.
“What’s the worst that could hap—ah, Jesus, Ignis, are you sure it needs to be that tight?”
Ignis’s face remained passive, focused only on the laces. “Hourglass figure, Noct. I believe the style these days is the wasp waist, isn’t it?”
Black spots danced on the edges of Noctis’s vision. Yeah, yeah. Tight bodices and all that. Did women have to put up with this shit every day?
…Actually it was kind of awesome. Noctis stared at himself in the mirror. He could see his waist getting smaller and smaller, accentuating his hips. He’d always been kind of skinny his whole life. Thinness was not so attractive on a man. Now, with the corset, Noctis thought he looked…hot. The whalebones tucked him in and gave his torso such a pleasing shape.
He couldn’t wait to see the finished product.
“Just get it over with,” Noctis said between clenched teeth.
Ignis blinked. His mouth was a thin line. “If you’re certain, Master.”
Well. It wasn’t the worst thing Ignis had ever done for Noctis. That award went to the time Noctis was seven years old and Ignis slipped some brandy in his nanny’s tea to make the older woman fall asleep, because Noctis wanted to play in the gardens instead of attending to his grammar studies. Fortunately, no one ever found out about the scheme, or about the fact that Ignis helped him shirk his duties. All they knew was that Noctis somehow wound up late for dinner, as dirty as a peasant by the end of the day. They’d gotten the nanny fired for that, which they always quietly felt guilty about afterwards.
Nor was this even the dumbest thing Ignis had done for him. That had to be the time Noctis was thirteen and he wanted to ride the new stallion his father just purchased, the one Regis forbid Noctis from riding until his son grew a few more inches. Incensed and enticed beyond reason, Noctis recruited Ignis in a hackneyed scheme to steal the stallion and go for a quick joy ride. By chance, Ignis was able to distract the stable-master with some idyll banter about the Napoleonic Wars while Noctis led the horse out to paddock. Of course, as it turned out, Regis had been completely in the right to think Noctis was not ready. The young lord had absolutely no control over the stallion. Instead of riding him, Noctis was led on a harrowing journey all the way into Gunnersbury Park before some good samaritan noticed the boy in distress and finally brought the beast to a halt. In the midst of all that nonsense, Noctis might have fallen and been trampled to death! So foolhardy of Ignis to go along with any of it…
But still. Ignis’s orders were not to guide Noctis. Merely to stay by his side and make sure all his needs were met. Which Ignis did a fan-fucking-tastic job of managing (most of the time, anyway).
Now Noctis was a young man of nineteen and he wanted to flounce around town in a woman’s dress. Ignis figured this new fancy fell somewhere in the middle from harmless to brainless.
Besides. After so many years of servitude and friendship, it was not within Ignis’s capabilities to say no to his master. So he could only do his best work dressing him and believe that Noctis would use his own wits to handle whatever came next. In truth, he was not terribly worried. Under his knowing hand, Ignis could make Noctis look like one hell of a woman.
Finally finished with the corset, Ignis lifted the crinoline cage over Noctis’s head and slowly fit it around his master’s waist. Fascinated at the sight of his legs framed by wires, Noctis turned this way and that. The hoop skirt wiggled ever so slightly as he moved. The barest amount of give to make the dress bounce minutely when he walked.
“Okay,” Noctis surmised, running his hands down the reeds. “Let’s keep going.”
Ignis carefully checked the wires to make sure the hoops around the back of Noctis’s thighs had enough give to allow his master to sit down. They did. Satisfied, Ignis gave Noctis a quick tutorial on how to sit while he was wearing the caged crinoline. He told Noctis to practice a few times. Not too bad.
Actually, Ignis thought as he dressed Noctis in the petticoat and chemisette, it was a good change of pace. Dressing someone in female garments. He wouldn’t mind doing this again, maybe.
“Here.” Ignis gave Noctis the pair of silverware pillows he had pilfered from the cutlery drawer. Two hand-sized pillows meant to cushion the knives and forks as they lay in the drawer. “You should…adjust them as you need to.”
Smirking, Noctis stuffed the pillows underneath the chemisette to give himself a bust. The hemline covered the pillows while the top of the corset kept them in place. A foolproof method for instant breasts. Or, their imitation.
“Heh, they look almost real,” Noctis mused. He was fondling the new addition to his anatomy in the mirror. Crossing the line into lewd territory, Ignis thought.
The valet cleared his throat—reminding Noctis of propriety (sort of ironically at this point)—and gently unwrapped the dress itself.
“My, my…” Ignis whispered. He stroked the muslin with his fingers. At the very least, he could say that Noctis had good taste. This dress really was remarkable. Not just the midnight purple color, but the bespoke, classy quality of the material itself. The whole ensemble. It was eye-catching, a thing of beauty.
“Pretty, right?” Noctis asked.
“Indeed.” Though Ignis certainly detected the laugh in the back of Noctis’s throat.
Just why did his master want to do this? Ignis might have asked him, but it would have been a breach of station. That little piece of honesty was none of Ignis’s business.
Furthermore, he figured there was a good chance Noctis himself did not know.
The bottom half of the dress went on first. Surprisingly, this was the most difficult part yet. Ignis needed to ruffle the material several times to make sure it kept its shape when he slid the skirt over Noctis’s head. He hated being so rough with the material, though. A shame. This is why most gentlewomen had at least two handmaids to help her dress. Ignis was doing the best he could as a party of one. He smoothed the muslin over the petticoat and caged crinoline with both hands for several minutes. Just to make sure everything fell exactly as it should.
Now for the top half. The bodice and sleeves. Ignis adjusted his glasses and got to work. The bodice fit snuggly, as it was meant to. He brushed the sleeves with the backs of his hands, making sure they dangled nicely over his master’s wrists. The proper way. Happy with his work, Ignis stepped away to ready the bonnet.
Noctis stared at himself in the mirror. His blue eyes widened to take in every detail. It was more than a little strange! When he touched his stomach, he could not feel the stroke of his own hand. Just the whalebone underneath. Whenever he took a step, an artificial breeze wafted between his legs. It was quite freeing on one hand, to be able to swish around. The dress moved with him like some kind of companion. But it was also weird. The breeze around his ankles and underneath the hoop skirt struck Noctis as odd.
The way that it felt. Having space there.
That aside, Noctis knew he looked damn good. His face had always been sort of feminine-looking (not that Noctis would ever admit that out loud). With the fake bust, dressed to the nines, he really could pass as a woman.
A flicker of excitement came to life inside Noctis’s chest. He had done a lot of dangerous shit in his life (that time he got into a street fight with some people in the East End; that time he decided to have a drinking contest: Himself against all the other guys at the pub; or that time he went swimming in the Thames on a Sunday just to tell the bobbies to fuck off), but he’d never done anything like this. He’d never pretended to be the opposite gender before. Obviously, but…yeah.
Looking like a woman was a new thrill. Even in his own room. The thought that people were actually going to see him…Noctis licked his lips, suddenly aware that the caged crinoline made it impossible for anyone to see that bulge between his legs. He was completely hidden down there.
Fuck. Why did that make him…?
“Here we are,” Ignis announced, unearthing the bonnet from its box. It was the same purple shade as the dress, made of satin, with ruffles underneath the poke. There was a wide black ribbon wrapped around the girth of it, sitting atop the crown in a large bow. The long ends of the ribbon dangled underneath the chin.
Noctis shook his head from side to side like a wet dog. Whatever. That was just a natural reaction to seeing something as attractive as this dress, on his own body no less. But he couldn’t get sidetracked from the point of all this.
He wanted to have a laugh at the expense of all those stuck-up people in town. The ones who whispered (just loud enough for him to hear) behind their hands that Noctis would never amount to the man his father was. That he could never run the Caelum household and take care of the estate like the highbred nobleman he was supposed to be. The whispers had started back when Noctis was barely ten years old—the townspeople had nothing better to do than speculate on how much of a failure Noctis would turn out to be.
“Look at that awkward gait (the result of the carriage accident that killed his mother), those faraway eyes. That clipped, insolent way of talking. No way the boy can become as regal and forthright of a man as Regis!”
What the hell did they know? Absolutely jack shit. Noctis would prove it! He would walk around all day like this, just for his own personal satisfaction, knowing that people couldn’t tell a man from a woman. Probably couldn’t even tell their ass from their elbow when it came down to it…
Basically everything Noctis did in his young adult life was meant to show the world that it was wrong. About him especially.
(He knew in his heart, of course, that every time he lashed out he technically proved them right. But he buried that truth somewhere deep inside. It was way more fun to rile up the stuffed shirts than to take the time to examine his own shortcomings.)
Ignis folded the bonnet over his master’s head. He tied a floppy bow with the ends across the hollow of Noctis’s throat. Good thing the poke bonnet style made it so that Noctis didn’t have to worry about wearing a wig or some other contraption. Most women kept their hair hidden underneath a bonnet anyway.
Unblinking—as if this were a task he did every day of the week—Ignis held out a small cask of rouge. “For your lips, Master,” he clarified.
Noctis eyed the cask warily. “You sure I need it?”
The valet stiffened. “Your lips are the tiniest bit pale, sir.” As far as Ignis was concerned, if they were going to do this, then they would do it all the way. No half or quarter measures.
Noctis looked himself in the mirror again, considering it. Why did this part—actually wearing make-up—feel like crossing a line? It shouldn’t. Hell, Noctis was already standing there in caged crinoline and a full day gown, but…
“May I?” Ignis dipped the applicator brush into the rouge and approached Noctis. “I’ll keep my hand steady and light.”
Shrugging, (and also basically giving in because Ignis was coming at him like he knew exactly what he was doing), Noctis closed his eyes and let Ignis apply some rouge to his lips.
“There we are.”
When Noctis opened his eyes, he almost surprised himself. The rouge made his lips look fuller, especially the bottom lip which appeared downright plump. Noctis wanted to touch his lips, to see if somehow the rouge had given them some kind of depth that he hadn’t had before, but of course that would smear the cosmetics. So he left alone and blinked a few times. Squinting to see the outline of his normal self.
The illusion was complete.
“Final thoughts?” Ignis asked as he surveyed Noctis from all sides.
The young master combed his bangs with his fingers, making sure some black hair peeked out from underneath the poke bonnet in a seductive way. He pursed his lips and turned his face side to side, taking it all in.
“Wow, Iggy.” Noctis faced his valet with a mischievous smile. “You did a fucking great job. …You sure this is your first time with women’s clothes?”
Ignis nodded his thanks and adjusted his glasses once more. “Beginner’s luck, perhaps.”
“Hell, no.” Shaking his head, Noctis took a few dainty steps up and down his room. The sway of his hips perfectly imitated a woman’s. “I could go in front of anyone right now and they would have no idea I’m really a dude.” He barked a short laugh. “Seriously! Debut me, right now. Let’s have a party or something. It would be hilarious.”
Ignis sighed. He knocked on the door from the inside, a signal to the young man waiting nearby. “Let’s stick to the original plan, Master.”
A knock came from the other side. Once and then twice. As agreed, Ignis opened the door and allowed Noctis to step outside first.
Noctis’s closest friend, a blond man of his same age named Prompto, stood in the hallway. He had been charged with escorting Noctis through town in his normal attire (actually, slightly more upscale than normal since the Argentums were a staunchly middle class family). Ignis only agreed to let Noctis go ahead with this cockamamie farce because he knew Prompto would be there as some kind of male presence. Making Noctis’s female self seem as if she were already ‘spoken for.’
As soon as Prompto laid eyes on his best friend, his jaw nearly hit the ground. A light blush dusted his cheeks and he had to take a step back. For what reason, no one could say.
“Whaddya think?” Noctis asked, wagging his hips to make the skirt sway. “Funny, right?”
“Uh…” Prompto forced his mouth closed. He glanced at Ignis, trying to suss out an appropriate reaction to the sight in front of him. “I was…gonna say….”
Seeing his friend hemming and hawing—was that sweat beading across his forehead? The hell?—Noctis frowned. Why didn’t Prompto think this was hilarious? Noctis sure did!
Getting no signals from Ignis, Prompto quickly changed his tune. He fiddled with the top hat in his hands (a change from the usual bowler hat he always wore) and broke into a huge smile. “Umm, yeah! Super funny, dude!”
Prompto took a step forward to slap Noctis on the shoulder like he usually did when they shared a joke. But for some reason he stopped short this time, gently knocking the backs of his fingers against his friend instead.
“Hey, come on.” Noctis crossed his arms in frustration. He knew what was going on here. “It’s still me, Prom. Just because I’m wearing a dress doesn’t mean I’m like suddenly a girl now or something.”
“No, I know, I know!” Prompto forced another laugh. “And I think it’s a great prank. I’m like, busting a gut here, man.”
Unconvinced, Noctis huffed and glanced away. It seemed like Prompto—as much as he wanted to be supportive—just didn’t get it. Noctis had seen the way Prompto surreptitiously wiped his fingers against his pant leg after he touched Noctis, as if he had just touched something wet. Or like he wanted to brush away the memory of how Noctis felt.
It was really unlike Prompto. But then, this whole situation was fairly far from their normal day-to-day. So Noctis decided to shrug it off.
“If you’re ready,” Ignis began, gesturing towards the staircase leading down. “I believe we have a limited window of opportunity for this.”
Letting the moment pass awkwardly, they followed Ignis down the stairs. In order to avoid detection by any of the other household staff, Noctis needed to exit through the back door. Typically used as a servant’s entrance. From there, he and Prompto could walk from the back of the grounds out to the street. If they met anyone on the way, Prompto might be able to act like he was visiting with some female friend of his (if Noctis hid his face behind the bonnet).
When they reached the servant’s entrance, there was one lone footman standing guard by the door. As planned. The rest of the staff had been persuaded to work elsewhere for the next hour at least—by this very footman, a burly man Noctis had grown close to in his childhood, named Gladiolus. Apparently Gladiolus could be very persuasive when he wanted to be. They hurried to meet him.
Naturally, Gladiolus caught sight of Noctis hiking up his skirt and running down the hallway in his ankle-length boots (the young lord had no women’s shoes, so his own button-up walking shoes would have to suffice). The first thing he did was shake his head. Seemingly at a loss for words.
Then he said, “This is a bad idea. I told you that, right? I mean, we talked about this?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting in over my head again,” Noctis mocked, putting on Gladiolus’s voice. “You told me. Only like, a million times.”
Throwing his hands up in the air—suddenly determined to look in any direction but Noctis’s—Gladiolus heaved a sigh and replied, “Okay. As long as it’s on record that I’m not into this. At all. Sir.”
“Noted, Third Footman, thank you,” Noctis shot back sarcastically. With an obvious roll of his eyes.
Irked, (as he always was when Noctis pulled rank for no godforsaken reason, which was more often than anyone would like), Gladiolus bowed exaggeratedly and opened the door for them. Prompto and Noctis scurried on ahead while Gladiolus and Ignis stayed back. Out in the open air, Noctis turned around to bid farewell to the servants that helped him get this far. Also, coincidentally, the only friends he had in the world.
“Don’t worry, guys,” he said flippantly, bouncing from foot to foot to emphasize the swish of his skirt. “I’ll be fine. And if anything happens, Prompto’s here to protect me, yeah? He’s got my back.”
After being elbowed in the ribs, Prompto forced a salute and a, “Yes sir! Or…madam…or…miss? I mean…uh…”
Gladiolus chuckled humorlessly. He crossed his beefy arms, eyeing the hapless pair with a look of finality. “Right.”
Ignis bounced his eyebrows. Seeing how totally uncomfortable Prompto was in this situation, he wondered why he ever thought the blond’s presence would make any difference at all.
But, better to send them off with a vote of confidence. “Consider all our fears assuaged, young Masters,” Ignis intoned grandly.
“Bye, now!” Prompto cried.
As they stumbled away, Noctis grabbed Prompto’s arm and latched his wrist around his friend’s elbow in a viselike grip. An imitation of a gentleman and lady out for a stroll. Small punishment for forgetting exactly what he was there to do.
“You’re my escort, got it?” the young lord hissed. “So escort me.”
“Okay, okay, jeez, man…” Prompto whispered back. “You’re too intense sometimes, you know that?”
Ignis and Gladiolus watched the pair disappear down the road. It was hardly the first time they watched their charge walk off to certain doom. And it would definitely not be the last.
“Out of our hands now,” Gladiolus mused.
“Quite.” Ignis crunched the gravel under his foot, lost in thought.
Breaking out into a small smile, Gladiolus sauntered over to Ignis. “Ready to get back to work? Or do you want to hear the other choices I had in mind?”
At that, Ignis decided to leave Noctis’s welfare in the capable (if capricious) hands of fate. There were suddenly more pressing issues to attend to.
“Hmmm…” the valet placed one hand on the footman’s shoulder. Delicately. Not overtly intimate. A soft secret. “Well. A man should hear all his options first before making any decisions.”
Gladiolus grinned and led the way to the stables. More specifically, a hidden, abandoned stall.
“Sounds fair to me.”
________________________________________________________________
Hammersmith, London
25 October, 1856
Monday - Afternoon
Their plan was to head east, towards Hammersmith, until they came to Ravenscourt Park. Then…well, there was a part of the plan they had not shared with Ignis or Gladiolus.
On the way, Noctis got his first taste of exposure to strangers while wearing his dress.
Walking along the Thames, Noctis and Prompto got looks from just about every passerby within a good ten yards. It was only natural, of course. The dress sold at Harrods was one of a kind. People were getting their first taste of this new fashion in broad daylight—not to mention the fact that Noctis looked positively breathtaking in the get-up. The color picked up the darkness in his hair and the crystalline sapphire of his eyes, throwing his ivory skin into contrast.
It was impossible not to notice him.
Men and women’s gazes were drawn to the couple as they strolled. Noctis did his level best to act as casually as ever. (Prompto, meanwhile, could not stop sweating.) More than once, groups of gentlemen—those that were unaccompanied by women—would stop and tip their hats in Noctis’s direction. A knee-jerk reaction when someone encountered a beauty like Noctis—or at least, the woman in the dress. Once, a middle-aged man even removed his top hat completely and bowed at the waist, seemingly overcome with the need to conduct himself properly in front of this new, dark-haired beauty.
Noctis absorbed all the attention like a kitten lapping up milk. He smiled demurely at each and every one of the men throwing glances his way. They really thought…they could not tell… They really did not know that they were hitting on a man. A member of their same gender!
Noctis almost burst out laughing several times. He could not have been in higher spirits. So far, this was more fun than he could ever expect!
Not to mention, the sheer visceral wonder of walking around in a petticoat and gown. The hemline of his skirt hovered daringly close to the ground, swaying harder when Noctis waggled his hips as he walked. A few times, when he waggled his hips in that way—something he had seen women his own age do every so often, when they were at their most coquettish—Noctis turned around to find gaggles of men simply staring. Right in the area of his backside. Unashamedly, almost! Except for the fact that they turned around immediately when Noctis caught them staring.
It was his first encounter with The Eyes. He did not know what else to call that look. The gaze of men who saw something they liked. Something they might even want.
Noctis was sure he had looked at women like that in the past. Even when he was just out with Prompto, pointing out a particularly noteworthy girl. But this time…this was the first time that gaze was directed at him.
It fed into a vicious cycle. Noctis found himself exhilarated by The Eyes, flushing from head to toe in the beginning (instinctively insulted at first), and then…coming up short of breath.
These men wanted him. And they didn’t even know!
That was funny, wasn’t it? Noctis had to laugh behind his hand to keep from losing it. And yet, also…there was something more than that. The breeze between his legs. Noctis found himself waggling his hips more and more, just to draw The Eyes like a magnet. When he walked like that, the breeze between his legs kicked up. More intense than ever. Enough that Noctis could feel light puffs of air drifting as high as his thighs. And in between.
He gasped the first time he felt it. Not prepared. A light tint of redness came to his cheeks and he looked around frantically to see if anyone noticed.
Sure enough, there was a man standing on a street corner. Giving him The Eyes. Noctis met his gaze and was suddenly frozen.
“…You okay, buddy?” Prompto whispered, coming to a halt when Noctis’s body locked up.
Noctis’s gut reaction was to end all this nonsense, run up to the guy staring at him and punch him in the face. Had he seen? Did he know that underneath all these layers, all the wires and petticoats, Noctis was getting…hard? That every time the breeze reached as high as his knees, Noctis felt a distinctive throbbing sensation in the apex of his manhood. That he was actually turned on by walking down the street in a dress—
So yeah. Noctis wanted to punch the guy’s lights out to erase any evidence of that notion. It was an automatic response—he wasn’t a pervert or anything! And this guy was probably on to him…
…But then, how could that man (a lower class factory worker from the looks of him) ever know? The crinoline hid everything. Ignis made sure that Noctis’s disguise was flawless, down to the last detail. This guy had no idea what was going on in Noctis’s drawers right now.
No one did. And no one ever had to.
Instantly relieved as soon as he remembered that irrefutable fact, Noctis simply blinked demurely and scurried away with Prompto. He would never see that guy again. By all rights, Noctis was the one winning in the end. Because he was the only one who knew the whole truth! These men were getting their rocks off looking at another man!
Oh, damn. Noctis wished he knew their names. He would have enough blackmail material for the rest of his life (as long as he left out the part about his own little…predicament). But sadly, no. This hilarious scene was meant for Noctis only.
Encouraged by the promise of a completely hidden boner, Noctis learned to use the energy building inside him to make his walk even more feminine. Channelling his newfound interest to get more attention, more whispers from the women and low whistles from the men.
The envy of all. Eyes glued to his every step. None the wiser about the reality of Noctis’s identity even as they wiped the drool from their faces.
…Besides, it wasn’t like Noctis was actually turned on by any of this. Not at all! Only, the breeze down there was a little distracting because he’d never had it before. So, this awkward hard-on was just kind of naturally there. The same way it showed up every morning when Noctis got out of bed. Rising with the sun, startled by the breeze. Not because walking around like this meant anything. He had a normal guy’s dick.
And if Noctis loved being the center of attention—having everyone’s eyes on him—then…well, he tucked that idea away somewhere. No reason to think about that now.
“This is kind of weird, Noct…” Prompto muttered as they rounded the corner of King Street and came to Ravenscourt Park. “…How are you doing?”
“I’m great!” Noctis claimed. “Never better! Did you see the look on those guys’ faces?”
“Um, yeah. I…did.”
He did? Noctis glanced back at his friend. Then why wasn’t he laughing?
They headed into the park. Finally, Prompto dropped his arm and this time, Noctis let it happen. Right on schedule, it was time for the last part of the plan.
“You sure you’re going to be okay in here by yourself?” the blond man asked nervously, eyeing Noctis with a serious face. “I don’t know. Now that we’re here, actually doing this, it kind of feels like…”
“Like what?” Noctis demanded. It was hard for him not to feel a little betrayed by the way Prompto was acting. He had been all for this when they talked about it together. What changed?
Prompto opened his mouth to speak, then quickly closed it and shook his head. “I don’t know. But just…you sure?”
The whalebone material in the corset was starting to chafe against the young lord’s chest and hips.
Noctis sighed loudly. “Of course I’m sure. It’s just for an hour, right? You’ll pick me up as soon as you get back from the Aurum place. Two hours tops.”
Sky blue eyes clouding over, Prompto licked his lips. In the end, all he said was, “…Yeah, that’s right.”
“Go on.” Noctis nudged Prompto away, in the direction of Miss Aurum’s house. “Go show your new girlfriend how good you look in a proper suit. She’s gonna love that shiny hat on you.”
“Hey, come on…” Prompto swatted Noctis’s hand. He was beginning to come back to life, lighting up at the mention of Miss Aurum. “She’s not my girlfriend…”
“Yet.” Noctis threw his friend one of his most mischievous smiles.
It never failed to do the trick. Prompto broke into a smile of his own and knocked his friend’s shoulder—a little harder than last time.
“Alright.” The blond shrugged and started turning away. “If this is what you want, then…I’ll see you in an hour, okay?”
“Yep. That’s the plan.” Noctis tugged his bonnet closer to his face and waved goodbye. He decided that he would not watch Prompto as he left. Instead, he just walked deeper into the park.
Alone.
Noctis had to try it. He’d been dying to do it since this idea first struck him that morning at Harrods—he needed to know what it felt like to walk around as a single woman in society. A beauty, nonetheless, but. That was almost beside the point. Noctis had to find out if being gussied up and alone was really the freeing experience he thought it would be.
That was the true goal in all of this: Freedom. Noctis wanted to do whatever the hell he wanted, when he wanted. If he wanted to walk around as a woman, then he would do it. Show everyone that their bullshit rules and expectations meant nothing. Noctis would do the shit that they said you shouldn’t. Because…he had to!
So. Time to strike out on his own. Head high, hips waggling, Noctis strutted through the center of Ravenscourt Park.
The leaves were turning. In fact, most of them had already turned. Such was the season. Fall and its colors. Noctis always wished he appreciated the sight of yellowing leaves as much as the rest of the world seemed to. Poems and paintings and all that, focused on how beautiful the trees looked in the middle of autumn. But Noctis couldn’t say he found it fascinating at all.
Really, these were just the remnants. The leftovers from spring and summer withering and fading. Noctis had no love for the straggling bits of things. He wanted the heart of nature—the life; the beating, verdant truth. He was a summer baby. And his disposition showed it.
There was a fountain in the middle of the commons. Noctis gracefully made his way over to it. The day was brisk but Noctis was getting a little warm in the many layers of his new attire. Possibly because of how…riled up he had gotten a few moments ago. There was still some heat trapped in the folds of his garments, generated by his own excitement. Perhaps he should splash some water on his face.
The moment Noctis dipped his hand in the water, he heard a voice addressing him from behind. A man’s voice. Velvety and deep. Like thick molasses paste dripping over the edge of a table. Sticky, sweet, suspended in midair as long as nature would allow.
“Going for a swim?”
Noctis whirled around to face the man. He was met with the sight of a stranger—a gentleman in a dark gray frock coat and cream-colored shirtwaist. His frock was long, uncommonly so, past his calves even. His hair was dark red in color. Wine spilled from a carafe.
And his eyes? Gold leaf stretched over a marble veneer. Unsettling. They stopped Noctis dead in his tracks.
“I wouldn’t recommend it, if I may be so bold as to offer my own advice,” the man continued. “It’ll be quite difficult to swim in that lovely muslin thing you’re wearing.”
The man held his hand out to the side, gesturing to nothing, and took a step towards Noctis. Sensing danger right away, Noctis thought to answer him instead of standing dumbly in the middle of the commons.
“I’m not…going swimming, obviously. Just admiring the fountain,” Noctis retorted. He remembered at the last second to raise the tone of his voice several octaves. Enough to pass for the woman he appeared to be.
He also kept his eyes on the man’s hands. The skin there was a shade darker than the man’s face and neck. A sure sign of manual labor in his past. Plus, he appeared unshaven and not particularly well-groomed all around. But he was wearing a top hat and six piece suit. The sign of the gentry class.
Who was this man? Where exactly did he fit in the echelons of London?
“Ah, I see.” The mysterious man took another step forward. Noctis did not want to move back—he did not like the idea of conceding ground to another man. “Well then, shall we both admire the beauty these marvelous gardens have to offer?”
The man’s golden eyes flashed. He gave Noctis a look that was something like The Eyes—but exponentially more deadly. A direct hit. Hungry. The look of a bear salivating over a pot of honey.
“Although, I must admit, I’ve already done a fair bit of admiring just in the time I’ve been standing here.”
To prove his point, the man’s eyes strayed from Noctis’s face down to his bust. And then lower. Inching ever so slowly down the rest of Noctis’s waist, the wide skirt covering his legs. (There was no way he saw, no way he could know about the lingering stiffness underneath—!) All the way down to Noctis’s feet.
That’s it. Time to go. This man’s intentions were clear as day. Noctis needed to leave now before this encounter got any more inappropriate.
And yet, Noctis stayed.