Chapter Text
It was the one needless extravagance Gascon insisted on when rebuilding the Brossard manor house: an enormous gilded mirror. His reputation for vanity spread, doubly so when a rumor got out that he’d had it mounted on the bedroom ceiling.
Reputation be damned, it’s fucking worth it , he thinks- jaw slack, panting with exertion. Flat on his back, wrists pinned, he stares up to watch taut muscle flex across broad shoulders. Sweat glistens gold in the candlelight.
“Can see all your grey hair at this angle.”
Reynard grunts in response, thrusting harder.
Gascon looks himself in the eyes and comes.