Magnus' newest suit was a shadow against the dead garden. There were no trees thick enough to shield him from the afternoon sun, and he didn’t bring a parasol. A voice in Klaus' head hoped that Magnus would take off his shirt. Magnus should lay back on one of the garden benches and get some sunlight on those brown nipples that featured daily during his morning swim. He should feel empowered to walk into the barren garden and just take off all his clothes. Just like, relax onto a garden bench where no one can see him but the dedicated voyeur watching from the second-story master bedroom window.

Klaus' imagination wasn’t sleeping on his attractive captive. He mentally narrated Magnus' actions in a pattern that escalated in its obscenity. A breakfast blend was ideal for this kind of activity. If he was feeling spicy, which he often was, Klaus ordered his butler to prepare him an exotic tea blend. Klaus lost himself in daydreams more than once and burned his mouth with tea that was way too hot. Even thinking about being distracted was distracting.

“Hot,” Klaus soothed his tongue against the top of his mouth. He needed to stop constructing elaborate sex fantasies about his captive. Klaus returned his attention to the garden, where Magnus reclined on one of the stone benches, lost in a book. Klaus' distance vision was bad, and his depth perception was worse. Eyepatch game was on point, though. 

“Jesse!” Klaus barked. “Jesse stop what you’re doing and get over here. What’s Magnus reading?”

“Sir?” asked Jesse.

 “Magnus brought a book into the backyard. What’s he reading?”

 Jesse had to be polite to Klaus in the presence of the other servants. It was better if his coworkers didn’t know he told their boss he smelled like a cum bucket, “It’s not from his bedroom, because that guest room is blue-themed, and the books are arranged by color.” 

 Klaus sipped his tea blend, “It’s a red book. Do you think he’s reading it? Maybe he’s looking at the pictures.”

 “Maybe,” said Jesse. “I didn’t take Magnus for the bookish type.”

 "He’s reading one book, maybe,” said Klaus. “That doesn’t make him a bookish type. Goddamn, this tea is hot!”

“You okay? Sir?” asked Jesse.

“I’ll recover.”

“Are you worried about the captive escaping?” Jesse nodded at Magnus in the garden below. “Is that why you creep on him, or is it something else?”

“Mind your business,” said Klaus. 

“Sir, I’m just making an observation,” Jesse apologized. “I can plan something special for you two, if you’d like. It might be valuable. For the kidnapping, you know?”

Klaus slurped his tea, “For the kidnapping?”

“Yes, Sir. For the kidnapping. We can do a romantic dinner this evening. Something in the ballroom? I’ll set the big table. Let me handle this.”

“Do you think he would accept my invitation?” Klaus nearly bit his teacup scheming about it.

“Maybe,” said Jesse. “I could ask. He’s lonely. He cries about it, like a lot.”

“Hmm,” Klaus unintentionally pictured Magnus shirtless again. It was not a productive use of his attention. “Maybe Magnus is looking for someone to comfort him.”

“Sir, I think that’s exactly correct.”

Klaus handed his empty teacup to Jesse, “I’m the wrong person for that kind of thing. I don’t care about his loneliness. He’s a spoiled brat.”

“Sir, I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize, Jesse. You probably don’t know this, but trust me, the upper class are insufferably self-absorbed.”

“I had no idea,” said Jesse, sarcastically.

Klaus sipped his tea, “Don’t get too close to Magnus, he’s just like the rest of them!”

“Yes, Sir,” Jesse accepted Klaus’ empty teacup.

Klaus collapsed onto his bed. Two maids were in the middle of changing the sheets and had to stop while Klaus writhed on the mattress, “Just spoiled and rich! Rich abs and thighs. Terrible!”

“Sir?” 

“Tell Magnus to get out of the sun, he looks damp around his collar,” Klaus said it with urgency reserved for actual problems.

“Yes, Sir. I’ll get on that right away.” Klaus missed the sarcasm in Jesse’s voice because he was still on one about ‘rich abs and thighs.’