Chapter Text
Kimono
No one that worked for the Pakhan had ever heard the omega speak.
It was not that they had never heard him at all. For everyone that worked for and with Viktor Nikiforov had heard the voice of the Pakhan’s omega at some point – a gentle laugh, for example, a quiet hum, or, quite more often, lustful cries and moans, caused by the Pakhan himself. His preference of having his omega wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, was well known amongst the members of the Bratva, but they all looked the other way, pretending not to hear the sounds of mating coming from their Pakhan’s study, from his meeting room, or from any other parts of the house.
But to hear him speak – no, no one amongst them had had that privilege so far, and some of them wondered if the Pakhan’s omega was able to speak at all.
The ability to speak was surely not what an omega of his calibre needed in order to attract a mate – for they had all seen him, although it was strictly forbidden to look at him. But they had all sneaked a glance at him at some point, daring to lift their gazes for the duration of the blink of an eye when the omega had walked past them. They had all seen the extraordinary Japanese beauty; his skin that was like porcelain, his lips so red like ripe cherries, and his hair as dark as the night. They had seen the pride the omega carried himself with, and they agreed that an omega like this could leave behind a path of destruction if he wished so. That if this omega only threw a certain glance at the world, he could bring down entire dynasties.
But the omega was always silent, and never deigned to even look at them, for they all were beneath him, and mattered less than the dirt beneath his feet.
The life the omega of the Pakhan lived was a most sheltered, a most protected one, hidden away in the vast estate of the Nikiforov family, hardly ever to be seen. There were, of course, a selected few that consorted with him, amongst them the closest friends of the Pakhan himself as well as a small handful of servants, all of them carefully selected betas. There were rumours that the Pakhan’s omega lived in sheer luxury unseen before, that Viktor Nikiforov showered his omega in jewels at every possible opportunity, and that it took his omega only an innocent, well-calculated look in order to get anything he could possibly want. The rumours even went so far that people claimed at least half of the Nikiforov inheritance to have been spent on the omega alone, although there was no proof to this, the fact that the omega never wore the same jewels twice spoke for itself.
All these stories had reached the ears of Phichit Chulanont long before his journey to Russia, and he had thought of them on the way to the Nikiforov estate in the back of the car that had been sent for him. But other than those rumours, he knew nothing about the omega he had been called to work for. The Pakhan was very careful with the information he gave out about his omega, and besides the fact that the omega was male and of Japanese descent, Phichit knew nothing. As a beta, he was of little use to his own family, who was just as dangerous and criminal as the Nikiforovs. He knew enough of this life to know that there was no way out, that especially for those born into the family could never leave the family. But he could be of different use, they had said, for he could strengthen the bonds between clans, and if there was something Phichit Chulanont was good at, then it was socialising and making friends.
That, amongst his ability to speak Japanese, had gotten him this position in the first place.
The estate of the Nikiforov family appeared in the distance, causing Phichit to stare with an open mouth right until the car stopped at the massive stairs. A tall, handsome man was waiting for him, his hair blonde at the top and brown and short at the sides. His eyes, Phichit found as he got out of the car, were the most gorgeous ones he had ever seen, with incredibly long eyelashes, barely hidden by the pair of glasses that he wore. His suit was of impeccable taste, and probably cost more than the car Phichit had come in. In his left hand, he held an iPad. With his right hand, he reached out to greet him.
“Mr. Chulanont,” the man said warmly, shaking his hand. “Welcome to Russia. My name is Christophe Giacometti, and I am the Household Manager. We have been expecting you. How was your flight?”
“Good, thank you, Sir” Phichit replied as he shook the man’s hand, recognising him as a son of one of his father’s business partners.
But then again, it was a small world.
“Ah, please call me Chris. Your luggage will be taken to your apartment, do not worry about it,” Chris said and gestured at the house. “Please. We shall start right away.”
Phichit nodded and followed the other man up the stairs and into the estate’s magnificent, marble entrance hall that shined in the light of the chandelier above them, telling the tales of times long gone.
“Oh my,” Phichit breathed, unable to control himself and looked around like a child facing the wonders of the world for the very first time. “This is like a palace.”
“Oh, it is a palace,” Chris remarked with a laugh. “Well, it used to be one, before 1917. But it is still treated as one, and demonstrates the power and wealth of the Pakhan. This way, please.”
Chris took him up a large set of stairs to the first floor, his steps bouncy as if in joyful anticipation of something. “The ground floor is representative entirely, with a ballroom, grand dining room and such. The first floor is mainly offices, with the Pakhan’s personal study, library, and meeting room in the wing to your right. Do not enter this wing unless you have been called by the Pakhan himself, and I strongly suggest you do not test the patience of his guards.”
Phichit nodded quickly, not needing to look at the guards to their right a second time to know that these men would not hesitate to snap his neck if he looked at them the wrong way.
“This hallway leads to the private apartments of the Pakhan and his mate,” Chris explained, gesturing at a set of doors to their left as they walked. “Their apartments take up the entire east wing. The Pakhan has a small bedroom and bathroom attached to his study as well, of course, but he takes his private time very seriously, as you will see. His Well-born, Yuuri-sama, has the larger apartment of the two, of course.”
“Yuuri-sama?” Phichit repeated with a small frown.
Chris stopped in his tracks for a moment, turning around to look at him. “Well, yes,” he said. “That is the name of the Pakhan’s mate. I assume you did not get that information beforehand.”
Phichit shook his head. “I only knew that he was male and Japanese.”
Chris studied him carefully. “The Pakhan is very careful with the information that is public about his mate,” he said. “And it is expected that you keep all information, no matter how unimportant it may appear to you, to yourself.”
“Of course,” Phichit said quickly. “I would never betray the Pakhan.”
“That is what they all say, cheri,” Chris said with a small smile. “Let us not speak about this here. My study is just around the corner.”
Christophe Giacometti’s study turned out to be surprisingly modern despite the almost Imperial feeling of the place. Phichit was offered a cup of Italian coffee and English biscuits, and they sat down at the desk to discuss the final details.
“Your contract was sent to you beforehand to study, if I remember correctly,” Chris said. “I assume I do not have to repeat the terms and conditions of the agreement?”
“No, Sir,” Phichit said and shook his head.
“No need to be so formal with me,” Chris assured him and put the contract aside for now, clasping his hands on top of his closed laptop instead. “But I must make sure that you know what you are getting yourself into. Tell me, what are your expectations?”
Phichit shifted a little on his chair. “I was told I would work for the Pakhan’s omega,” he said. “That I would direct his household.”
“That is correct,” Chris confirmed. “Directing his household means directing his servants and making sure that everything is where it belongs. You will also be expected to serve Yuuri-sama directly similarly to a valet, although only if he wishes it.” Chris paused for a moment. “However, it is more than just that. First and foremost, the Pakhan wishes for his mate to have a companion. A friend, if you will. Someone Yuuri-sama can confide in. This is why the Pakhan was looking for someone who speaks Japanese.”
“Does Yuuri-sama not speak English or Russian?” Phichit asked.
“Oh, he does, perfectly so,” Chris replied. “But to speak in one’s native tongue is something else, would you not agree?”
“Of course,” Phichit nodded, knowing the feeling only too well.
“Furthermore, the Pakhan wishes that this companion or friend will be someone that is willing to take care of Yuuri-sama’s every need,” Chris continued, looking Phichit directly in the eye. “You were trained in the ways of an omega companion. I do not have to tell you what that entails.”
“I was trained in various forms of relaxation therapy for omegas, also for expecting mothers,” Phichit answered without hesitation. “I want to help people. I want to care for them. That is why I chose this path.”
Chris nodded approvingly. “In my eyes, you are the right man for the position,” he said. “But it is not in my hands, of course. Yuuri-sama will decide whether to take you or not.”
And with that, Chris rose again, taking his tablet from the table once more. “Let us go to him now. I will explain everything else on the way.”
Phichit downed the rest of his coffee and rose as well, following the other man out of the room and back down the hallway towards the private quarters. The men guarding the doors let them through without hesitation.
“Yuuri-sama is nineteen years old,” Chris explained casually as they walked. “He was born in Hasetsu, Japan, as the youngest child and only son of the Katsuki family. His older sister is-“
“Mari Katsuki,” Phichit blurted out. A woman feared amongst all those in the world of crime.
Chris raised an eyebrow, but smiled. “Indeed. The match between the Pakhan and Yuuri-sama was made when he was fifteen. He came here two years ago, shortly after his seventeenth birthday. Although their marriage was arranged, they are devoted to one another.”
They walked past a group of maids, all of them giggling at the sight of Chris and greeting him with the brightest of smiles. Phichit noticed that they were all betas.
“No alphas are allowed in these quarters,” Chris said. “All maids and servants are betas. Omegas are only allowed to enter with the explicit permission of Yuuri-sama. He does not like having other omegas around.”
They went through another set of doors, entering a modern, elegant room that appeared to Phichit like a reception. “This is your office, by the way,” Chris said, but did not stop, taking Phichit to the next doors instead.
“Now, the daily schedule. Yuuri-sama tends to be a bit of a night owl. Usually, he gets up around ten and has breakfast in bed, afterwards, he retreats to his ballet studio. He is a passionate dancer, you see. After his ballet sessions with Madame Baranovskaya, he showers and then retreats to his study, where he meets with his private tutor. Yuuri-sama takes education very seriously and wishes to educate himself in various subjects. At the moment, he is studying Russian literature with great passion, I believe. Or was it English literature? Ah, I cannot remember. His lessons are followed by a light lunch around 2:30pm, either alone or with you, whatever he prefers. His afternoons are usually free. He likes to go to the garden with the dog, or simply read a book or play video games. Sometimes he also returns to the ballet studio, or he goes to visit his husband.”
“He goes to see the Pakhan?” Phichit asked in surprise.
Chris chuckled. “Why, yes. Did you think Yuuri-sama was confined to his rooms?”
“O-Of course, not,” Phichit said quickly. “I just thought-“
But Chris was not listening anymore. “Dinner is at seven o’clock, and spent with his husband in their private rooms. If there is a reception or formal dinner, like tonight, it is held half an hour later, in the grand dining room on the ground floor.”
Chris turned to Phichit again. “All of this may always be interrupted by the Pakhan at any time, of course. You will see that the Pakhan and his omega have a very passionate, intimate relationship. In fact, Viktor worships Yuuri-sama and the ground beneath his feet.”
Phichit could not help but smile at the image. “He must love him very much,” he said. “Yuuri-sama must be a wonderful person.”
Chris chuckled. “He is a difficult person, first and foremost,” he said. “Very proud and confident at first glance. Privately, he is a little different. Still proud, but less… frightening, if I may say so. I have the privilege to call myself an acquaintance, almost a friend, to his well-born. But not even I am safe from his moods.”
They had arrived at what appeared to be a living room, modern and comfortable, with large sofas, a huge television, an ancient fireplace, and several book cases lining the walls except for the one with large windows offering a stunning view of the vast gardens.
“I fear I must warn you, he is in a terrible mood today,” Christophe said as they approached the final set of doors, from behind which they could hear the soft murmurs of other people. “He was hoping to be with child, but the tests were negative.”
“Oh,” Phichit said softly, feeling for the man he did not even know yet. “Are they… are they trying?”
Chris nodded. “They have been trying since Yuuri-sama came here,” he said. “This is another reason the Pakhan wishes for a companion for his mate. To take his mind off things, and to perhaps find an answer to his current barrenness. From someone else than a doctor, that is.”
Phichit did not know what to say to that, but there was no time for that anyway, for Chris had already raised his hand and knocked on the door, only to be called in a moment later.
The room they entered was the most beautiful bedroom Phichit had ever seen, with windows just as large as the ones in the room before, the walls kept in pastel colours, the furniture an elegant mixture of traditional styles and modern design. A large bed, covered with countless pillows perfect for nesting, stood on the wall opposite to the windows. Japanese art ornamented the walls, gorgeous paintings of which Phichit was sure that they were originals, and that the museums they were supposed to be in merely showed copies.
And there, by the large mirror, gathered three women around a pedestal, on which a young omega stood, allowing himself to be dressed in a light pink kimono. He had his back to the door, but even from just looking at him like this, Phichit could see what it was that everyone kept talking about – there was an aura of pride that surrounded the omega, as well as so much more that made Phichit feel as if he were not worthy to even breathe the same air.
“What is it, Chris?” Yuuri asked without looking up, keeping his gaze fixed on the women working on the kimono instead. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for you at the moment.”
His English was effortless, lightly accentuated and telling of his Japanese origin. But the words sounded like music, as if the omega were singing.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Yuuri-sama, but there is someone I’d like to introduce to you,” Chris said casually and gestured at Phichit, who immediately straightened his shoulders. “This is Phichit Chulanont from Bangkok. The Pakhan would like for him to work in your household from now on.”
“Eh?” Yuuri turned his head and looked at them, his intelligent, brown eyes piercing right into Phichit’s for a moment before his gaze flickered to Chris. “And whatever for? I have more maids and servants with ridiculous names than I could possibly remember.”
“The Chulanont family has always been close to the Nikiforovs, as you know,” Chris replied smoothly, as if the omega had not just insulted them. “Mr. Chulanont would not be your servant.”
“What else, then?” Yuuri asked, returning his attention to the maids dressing him. “My lady-in-waiting? Don’t be daft.”
Chris chuckled. “No. Your husband was thinking of a more, well, casual arrangement.”
“We both know that there are no casual arrangements when-“ Suddenly, the omega hissed in discomfort as the obi was placed around him, and he let out a wave of Japanese curses at the women dressing him. “Can’t you be more careful?” He snapped, causing all three of them to step back and bow their heads in apology. Yuuri tugged on the obi, letting out a frustrated huff.
“May I?” Phichit asked and slowly stepped forward. “I have experience with kimono.”
Yuuri fixated him with a curious gaze, looking him up and down for a moment.
“By all means,” he muttered and beckoned Phichit to come closer.
Phichit thanked him and approached the omega on the pedestal, trying not to stare at him for too long. But like all the others before him, he could not help it, for the omega was absolutely stunning with his pale skin like porcelain, the long, dark eyelashes and the shiny, dark hair that he had combed back and secured with a single, golden pin for the occasion. The kimono was of the finest quality, most likely worth several hundred-thousands of yen, only to be worn by someone as worthy as the Pakhan’s mate. Its fabric was incredibly soft under Phichit’s fingers as he ran his hands across the seams, checking the correct adjustment of the many layers.
“I’m afraid this kimono has not been put on correctly,” he said after a moment. “This can cause quite some discomfort. I’m afraid we must start anew.”
Yuuri huffed. “What good was it to send you to Japan to learn these things if you cannot get it right when it matters?” He said to the maids that kept whispering their apologies. The omega’s gaze fell on Phichit again, studying him curiously, as if he had only just noticed him at all.
“You have experience with kimono?”
“Fashion design was my minor. I had the privilege to study under Miyamoto-sensei.”
For a moment, Phichit believed to see something like appreciation in the omega’s eyes.
“Well, then,” he said and pulled off the obi and outer layers, placing them in the maids’ hands, “I suggest that we get busy. My husband does not like to be kept waiting.”
And so, Phichit went to work. Carefully, he helped the omega to take off layer after layer, placing the most precious clothing in the arms of the maids until he had disrobed him down to his nagajuban. Only then Phichit saw the soft swell of the omega’s belly, a clear sign of a recent mating, and most likely the cause of his discomfort if the kimono was put on him in a too tight fashion. Phichit took the next layer of the kimono and put it on him, securing it all with the datejime, but following the natural curves of the omega’s body in order to make sure it would not press into his skin in the wrong places.
He worked in silence, adjusting the kimono in the right places to make sure the omega would feel comfortable in it. Finally, he put the light pink outer layer around him and reached for the obi to finish his masterpiece as he remembered what Chris had told him before they had come in. Yuuri had hoped to be pregnant, but the tests had been negative. One would only take a pregnancy test if one’s period was late, which was most likely the case. And an omega’s body was especially delicate in the days prior, particularly around the chest.
No, it was truly not the best time for the omega to wear something as heavy and complicated as a kimono, but Phichit would have to make it work.
Finally, he stepped back when he was done, holding his breath as Yuuri studied himself in the mirror before him.
“You tied the obi a little higher than usual,” he remarked as he turned a little to the left.
Phichit clasped his hands. “I thought it would be more comfortable for you this way, at this time of the month.”
The allusion was clear to everyone in the room, but neither Yuuri nor anyone else commented on it. The omega kept looking at himself for a little longer, admiring the artwork that the kimono was before turning around once more, looking at Chris.
“How can it be,” he said, “that of all the people sent to serve me, the one that you randomly bring along proves to be the most useful?”
Chris smiled and bowed his head. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“I mean it. What are these girls, if not a waste of my time?”
“I will have them removed from the premises immediately, your well-born,” Chris said and gestured at the maids to leave the room.
“Ah, not you,” Yuuri said to the last of them, much to everyone’s surprise, including the girl herself. “You may be a hopeless case with my kimono, but at least you are good with hair. You can come back tomorrow.”
The girl beamed and whispered her thank-you before bowing and leaving the room after the others.
Yuuri sighed. “You do not have to replace them, Chris,” he said, stepping down from the pedestal and walking over to a dressing table, picking up a pair of earrings that looked like they cost more than Phichit’s apartment in Bangkok. “I have more than enough people working and caring for me than I could possibly bear.” He sat down and put on his earrings with the greatest care. “You are from Thailand, yes?”
Phichit blinked as he was suddenly spoken to, but quickly pulled himself together. “Yes, from Bangkok.”
“I’ve been there once,” Yuuri murmured as he worked. “It was very loud.”
But before Phichit could reply, the door behind them opened and the Pakhan himself walked in, impeccably dressed in a bespoke suit, the silver hair he was famous for shining in the light of the chandelier above.
“My most precious jewel,” Viktor Nikiforov said as he walked towards his mate with outstretched arms, ignoring the other people in the room entirely. “How beautiful you are.” He took Yuuri by the arms and kissed him with a tenderness that Phichit would not have expected from him. “I knew this colour would suit you so very well.”
“Viktor,” Yuuri said softly and took his husband’s hands. “Am I late already?”
“Of course not,” Viktor assured him. “We can never be late. We are always on time, remember? And a masterpiece does take his time, after all. Would you not agree, Chris?”
“Absolutely,” Chris said, entirely unfazed by the presentation of the Pakhan’s affection for his mate.
“We were just speaking about the most generous, ah, gift you are making me,” Yuuri said, gesturing at Phichit. “I did not know you had sent for someone.”
“That is because it was meant to be a surprise, milyi,” Viktor said and pressed a gentle kiss to his mate’s knuckles. “I thought it would be nice if you had someone around you that you could treat as a friend. He does speak Japanese, even.”
“Oh?” Yuuri’s eyes began to sparkle and he looked at Phichit with great interest. “Honto?”
Phichit nodded, switching to Japanese. “I was taught Japanese from the age of seven.”
Yuuri began to smile, and he stood on his toes to press another kiss to his husband’s lips. “Oh, I do like him so already,” he hummed. “He even helped me with my kimono, you know? I have never felt more comfortable wearing one.”
Viktor raised an eyebrow in surprise, exchanging a look with Chris. “Who would have thought that we would be so lucky with him?” He said. “I am very pleased. But Yuuri, I do worry about you now.”
“You do?” Yuuri asked, his pretty face adorned with worry all of a sudden.
“Well, yes, for I do not know how I am supposed to unpack you tonight when I take you to bed?” Viktor sighed, gesturing broadly at the intricate wrappings of the kimono. “I fear I will have to cut you out of it in order to get to what I so desire.”
“The hell you will, this is my mother’s kimono.”
Yuuri turned around, his eyes finding Phichit’s.
“Phichit, how can my husband take this off me?”
And so, Phichit stepped forward once more, showing the Pakhan where he would have to pull in order to undress his mate. Viktor listened attentively and promised to make a mental note, so that he would not have to call Phichit out of bed in order to help them.
“Now I believe it is high time for us to tend to our guests,” he finally declared and placed his hand on the small of Yuuri’s back. “It is the Leroy delegation tonight.”
“How very dreadful,” Chris smirked, earning an approving, but disgruntled hum from Yuuri.
“Ah, my Yuuri does not like them very much, and neither do I,” Viktor said with a sigh. “But we must maintain a good relationship with them. Mr. Chulanont, welcome to our humble home, by the way. I hope you will enjoy your stay.”
Phichit bowed his head. “Thank you, Sir. And thank you for this opportunity.”
He stepped aside as the Pakhan and his omega walked out of the room, the latter floating more than anything else. Only just before leaving the room, the omega turned his pretty head once more. “Thank you for your help with the kimono, Phichit.”
“You’re welcome,” Phichit replied and waited until both of them were gone before speaking again. “He… knew my name.”
Chris smiled. “Yuuri-sama never forgets a name. Contrary to what he always says.”
And so, they walked back to Christophe’s study on the other side of the estate. From below, they could hear the amused laughter and chatter of the Leroy delegation, a string quartet playing soft and pleasant tunes in the background.
“Yuuri-sama won’t speak for the rest of the evening,” Chris said as they walked down the hall. “He never does. Not that Viktor forbade him. He merely chooses those he deigns to speak to very carefully. Jean-Jacques Leroy and his wife are not amongst these selected few, I fear.”
“Then what does he do at a dinner like that, if he does not speak?” Phichit asked with a frown as they entered Chris’ study.
“Didn’t you see? Yuuri-sama exerts his power merely by looking pretty while hanging on Viktor’s arm. He is an ornament, to be seen and not to be heard.”
“That sounds awful,” Phichit murmured, taking the seat that Chris offered him and accepting the cup of coffee from him.
“It is what Yuuri-sama chose for himself,” Chris replied and sat down as well. “He suffers from terrible anxiety. You see, he does not speak to people because he does not want to, but simply because he can’t. I am quite surprised he did not shy away from you. I would take that as a good sign. He seems to trust you.” Chris’ eyes narrowed slightly. “And I suggest you better do not betray his trust.”
“I would never-“
“That is what they all say, cheri,” Chris interrupted him softly. “For any other mate in a position like Yuuri’s, such behaviour would be impossible. But as I told you before, Viktor and Yuuri are devoted to one another. Viktor loves his mate, and would bring down entire dynasties and overthrow governments if it only made his omega happy. In return, Yuuri’s devotion shows in absolute obedience. That is how he has been raised.”
Phichit said nothing to that, nursing his cup of coffee whilst Chris prepared the rest of the contract for him to sign. The ink was not even dry yet as Chris glanced at his wrist watch. “A maid will wait for outside and take you to your apartment. I’m afraid that I have to get changed and join the party downstairs. I could imagine nicer things than spending an evening listening to the life and times of Jean-Jacques Leroy…” He rolled his eyes and rose from his chair, Phichit doing the same, and shaking the hand that Chris offered him.
“Welcome to Nikiforov Hall, my dear Phichit,” Chris said, his eyes sparkling in anticipation. “Do not hesitate to come to me if you have any further questions.”
“Thank you,” Phichit said and let go of his hand again, walking with the other man to the door where indeed, a maid was waiting for him to take him to his rooms.
“I shall see you around, then,” Chris said, and Phichit was about to follow the maid as he remembered the one thing he had almost forgotten to ask.
“Ah, Chris?”
Chris raised an eyebrow.
“This is a private residence, right?”
“It is, yes,” Chris answered. “The main business takes place in St. Petersburg. Why do you ask?”
Phichit hesitated for a moment. “So this is a safe place, isn’t it? I’m asking for my mother, she’s always so worried and I would like to tell her that she doesn’t need to be worried, that I’m not, well, in the lion’s den…”
Chris gave him a sympathetic smile.
“My dear Phichit,” he said softly. “This place is the lion’s den.”