Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5131160.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Blaine_Anderson/Sam_Evans, Sam_Evans/Kurt_Hummel, Sam_Evans/Jeremiah_
      (Glee), Kurt_Hummel/Jake_Puckerman, Ryder_Lynn/David_Karofsky, Sam_Evans/
      Elliott_"Starchild"_Gilbert, Sam_Evans/Alistair_(Glee), Sam_Evans/Spencer
      Porter, Sam_Evans/Sebastian_Smythe, Sam_Evans/Dustin_Goolsby, Sam_Evans/
      Benjamin_(Glee)
  Character:
      Sam_Evans, Blaine_Anderson, Shelby_Corcoran, Jesse_St._James, Rachel
      Berry, Ryder_Lynn, Jake_Puckerman, Kurt_Hummel, Jeremiah_(Glee), David
      Karofsky, Elliott_"Starchild"_Gilbert, Alistair_(Glee), Spencer_Porter,
      Sebastian_Smythe, Dustin_Goolsby, Benjamin_(Glee)
  Additional Tags:
      Blam_endgame, Anal_Sex, Fairy_Tale_Retellings, Magic, Royalty
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-02 Updated: 2016-08-06 Chapters: 8/? Words: 74524
****** Ceniciento, or, The Perfect Fit ******
by AmyViolet, Gleeville
Summary
     Cinderella AU with Sam as the prince and Blaine as Cinderella. But
     with a lot more smut than the original. Set in a modern, strangely
     American-like fictional kingdom!
     From a GKM prompt: "Cinderella AU where Sam is the prince and Blaine
     is Cinderella. The ball is a masked ball, and instead of just dancing
     together at it they fuck. Blaine tops. Sam makes it his mission to
     find the guy and marry him, and the only way to do that is to get
     fucked by everyone to find out whose dick fits him perfectly like the
     stranger at the ball."
     A note on the character and relationship tags: This work features a
     lot of characters from Glee and we're not attempting to tag them all.
     The only ones who are tagged are characters who are featured in a sex
     scene or are members of Blaine's step-family. Likewise, if there's a
     relationship tag, it means there is at least one sex scene between
     the characters; we haven't tagged for every couple that exists in the
     story (Sam's parents, for example, or Quinn/Finn and Brittany/
     Santana). If you'd like to see which pairings are in which chapter,
     you can refer to the responses to the GKM_prompt.
***** Salagadoola Mechicka Boola *****
Once upon a time there was a boy named Blaine whose father loved him very much.
And Blaine loved his father very much, and although they both missed Blaine's
mother, who died when he was very little, they were happy together.
But Blaine's father felt the boy needed a mother. And...he himself was lonely.
And so he remarried.
"I don't like new mom," Blaine said as he watched his father adjust his tie
before the ceremony. "She doesn't smell nice like my real mom." Blaine didn't
actually remember much about his real mom except the private songs she used to
sing to him that only the two of them knew and her clean, fresh scent. It was
enough, though, to know that new mom was nothing like her.
"Shelby smells different, is all," his father assured him.
Blaine suddenly had a memory of his mother, clearer than any he'd had in a long
time. "I remember my real mom smiling and laughing and holding me in her lap
and kissing my head. Lots and lots of kisses, all over my head and face."
His father smiled at that memory before his face turned serious again. "Your
new mother might not be that demonstrative yet, but she will take care of you
and love you. Plus you'll have a brother and sister to play with now."
"She doesn't love me. And Jesse and Rachel are gonna be mean to me."
"I'll never let anyone be mean to you, squirt."
But they were mean to him. Right in the middle of the ceremony, right when
Blaine's dad was saying, "For richer or for poorer..." that brat Rachel reached
over and pinched him hard. And when he yelped, his new mom gave him this look
like he was the one who did something bad.
And Blaine's dad didn't stop any of it.
He said later that he was sorry, that he was distracted by the wedding and
didn't know what was going on. And usually he paid more attention and stopped
Rachel from pinching or kicking him, and stopped Jesse from stealing his best
toys and breaking them. But he couldn't pay attention all the time.
And then one day Blaine's father was gone. An accident, just like his mother
had had. Blaine only got to see him one more time, in his coffin, and he
couldn't talk or smile or move any more, ever again. And after the funeral
Blaine had to go home with new mom, who never, ever stood up for him when Jesse
and Rachel were mean to him. That very night, in fact, Jesse tore the head of
Blaine's favorite teddy bear and best friend in the whole world, and he didn't
even get in trouble for it.
.
Shelby knew there was something wrong with Matt's boy. She had always known.
She didn't say anything when Matt was alive because he was so touchy about his
son. But the stress of being a young widow left her with very little patience
for the boy. Especially when her own two children were so demanding.
As well they should be, of course. They were both immensely talented and had
the potential to go far. And, as she always taught them, you don't get anything
in this life by waiting around for it. You have to demand your due.
Matt's boy, though. He was a pushover, which was a trait she had nothing but
contempt for. And there was something else...
She realized what the other thing was when they were watching the royal wedding
on TV. The fact that he begged to be allowed to watch with her and Rachel
should have been her first clue: boys weren't usually interested in that sort
of thing. Jesse certainly felt he had better things to do. But Blaine had
begged, and he'd done extra chores all week, and so Shelby for once gave into
him, on the conditions that he sit on the floor so she and Rachel could stretch
out on the sofa and that he keep his mouth shut the whole time.
But he didn't keep his mouth shut. When Prince-to-Be Finn appeared on screen
for the first time, dressed in the traditional regalia, Blaine squealed and
gushed, "He's so handsome! Princess Quinn is so lucky!"
And that was it.
Blaine had no other family, and the law said Shelby was stuck with him. But if
she'd felt any qualms about not treating him as an equal of her own children
(as if he were even in the same ballpark!) they were gone when she realized he
was a little queer.
.
Prince Samuel didn't want a ball.
The last three summers his parents had suggested one, and all three times he
had successfully talked them into waiting another year. This time, though, it
looked like they were really going to insist.
"You're almost twenty-one," his mother pointed out. "This is way overdue."
"No one gets married in their early twenties anymore!"
"Your sister was eighteen!"
Only because she was already pregnant, Sam thought but didn't say. No one
thought he knew, just because he was only thirteen at the time. That, and
people thought he was stupid. Instead, he argued, "Exactly! And she already has
three little princesses, so succession is assured, so—"
"Samuel," his father interrupted, "walk with me."
The king and prince excused themselves to stroll through the gardens, followed
at a discreet distance by their respective guards. Several hundred feet from
the castle, surrounded by vibrant rose bushes, his father said, "No one is
saying you have to find a bride at the ball."
"Oh!" Sam was taken aback and actually wondered whether his father was trying
to trick him somehow. "But...isn't that what these balls are for?"
"Traditionally, yes. But you should know that I'm perfectly willing to change
certain traditions to keep up with the times."
This was true. His father—and his mother—had fought tirelessly to change the
kingdom's laws so that the crown could be passed down to the eldest child
irrespective of gender, for example. Maybe it had something to do with the fact
that there had been a complication with Quinn's birth and they didn't think
they'd be able to have a second child, but in any case it was the right thing
to do. Some in Sam's position might not be happy with the timing of the change,
but he had no desire to be king. Being a prince was perfect: it came with all
of the perks and none of the responsibilities.
Or, at least, not as many responsibilities. Going through with this damn ball,
as his father explained to him, was one that he couldn't get out of anymore.
"Your mother and I know you're not...I'm going to be frank here, son."
"All right."
"We know you have no desire to settle down, as you're having way too much fun
sleeping with half the capital."
Sam blushed. It wasn't much of an exaggeration, but he really thought his
parents didn't know.
"And furthermore, we know that...we know that it's the male half."
"Father, I—"
"Let me finish. While I do wish you'd managed to be more...Anyway, that's
neither here nor there. The important thing is that none of that has anything
to do with the ball. The whole kingdom looks forward to it. It's the only
chance most citizens have at setting foot inside the castle. Do you have any
idea how many commoners dream that maybe one day they'll get to dance with a
prince? Not to mention what a good ball does for the tourism economy? There
aren't very many kingdoms like ours left, not in the whole world. It's a
fantasy, for lots and lots of people. And you're doing it."
Sam argued and whined and pouted, but eventually he realized the ball was going
to happen no matter what he said or did. "Can it at least be a masked ball?" he
asked.
The king gripped his forehead as if he were getting a headache. "Why masked?"
"Come on! Masks are cool! We'll all be like superheroes."
Now his father was massaging his temples. "Fine. Masks."
The king went back inside, followed by his guards. Sam stayed in the garden,
waiting for his own guards to catch up with him. "I'm having a ball," he told
them.
"Are you being sarcastic, Your Highness?" Ryder asked. "Because it doesn't look
like you're having that much fun, if you don't mind my saying so."
"No, I mean..."
"He means a ball like a party. A dance," Jake explained. When the prince wasn't
looking he rolled his eyes at his partner and mouthed the word dumbass at him.
"Right. So I guess you dudes are gonna need some evening wear. And masks."
.
"Mom! Mo-o-om!" Rachel's blood-curdling cry rang throughout the house. Shelby
ran to her daughter's room, while Blaine closed the door to the bathroom,
cringing. He had a feeling he knew what this was all about.
Sure enough, he soon heard his stepmother bellowing, "Blaine! Get in here!"
Removing his cleaning gloves and setting them on the sink, he took a deep
breath before answering the summons.
"Yes?" he asked as casually as he could, trying to ignore Jesse's sudden
smirking appearance.
Rachel pointed an accusing finger at the poster of Prince Finn on her bedroom
wall. Specifically, she pointed an accusing finger at a crease on one of the
edges, and a tiny tear. "Care to explain this, Blaine?"
It was true. He had ripped her poster. It was totally an accident! Shelby had
told him to change the sheets on Rachel's and Jesse's beds before they came
home from the conservatory—all the schools in the kingdom were giving students
a week's vacation in honor of the prince's ball—and he'd had his arms full with
sheets and pillows and things and couldn't even see, really, and then Rachel's
cat, Lucifer, had darted out between his legs (on purpose, he would almost
swear) and tripped him and he fell against the wall where the poster hung.
"I'm sorry, Rachel. I was just—"
"Were you kissing my poster again?"
"No!" Honestly, Rachel had caught him kissing the Prince Finn poster once, and
it was when he was twelve, and she and Jesse still brought it up regularly.
Shelby too, sometimes.
"He was probably humping it!" Jesse interjected, sending the three of them into
peals of laughter.
"I wasn't!" Blaine protested...pointlessly, because no one could hear him, nor
did they care. But it was so unfair! He didn't even like Prince Finn anymore.
That is, he didn't dislike him or anything—not that he knew him personally,
obviously—but he didn't have a crush on him anymore.
No, for some time now he'd been much more taken with the dashing Prince Samuel.
So gorgeous, so charming. Totally swoonworthy. Not that he ever let on how he
felt about Prince Samuel in front of his stepfamily, for obvious reasons.
Blaine tried to back out of the room, but Rachel fixed her eyes on him before
he could make his escape. "And you were just going to hope I wouldn't notice!?
"I was going to replace it."
Rachel scoffed. "Good luck finding a copy. They don't make this one anymore.
It's vintage. I expect the replacement to be mint condition, which this one was
until you ruined it."
"There's a vintage shop in the capital that I can try tomorrow."
"You can't go running off to the capital tomorrow!" Shelby told him. "We need
you here!"
"Honestly, Blaine, like I'm not under enough stress already," Rachel said.
"Between my upcoming duet at the showcase after break—"
"With yours truly," Jesse added.
"Oh!" Shelby squealed. She wrapped an arm around each of her children and
gushed, "I'm so proud of you both!"
"And getting ready for the ball..." Rachel added.
Blaine still wasn't sure how Shelby had managed to secure invitations for
Rachel and Jesse. The family wasn't wealthy, and despite the general assumption
that Rachel and Jesse would be famous some day, they were completely unknown.
They lived in a boring middle-class suburb and barely knew anyone in the
capital, much less the royal court. But somehow the two invitations had shown
up in the mail, just like Shelby had said all along they would.
And Shelby was determined that Prince Samuel would fall in love with Rachel at
first sight and ask her to be his princess. "The ball is all I want you
thinking about," she told her daughter. "If all goes well at the ball, you
won't even need to worry about school anymore."
"But, mother!" Rachel crossed her arms. "I plan to have a career! Prince Samuel
will just have to accept that!"
"Of course, darling!" Shelby stroked Rachel's hair. "But, just...spring that
news on him after the wedding."
Rachel glared at her mother indignantly.
"I'm just saying...royals are very conservative. He'll see reason more clearly
after you're married. And the king and queen certainly won't want a divorce in
the family."
Rachel glanced longingly at the Prince Finn poster and sighed. "I wish he were
the one looking for a bride."
"If he were, then marrying him wouldn't make you a princess," Shelby pointed
out. "He married into royalty, remember? Just like you're going to."
"Yeah, I guess," Rachel said wistfully.
"Cheer up, sis. You'll still be living in the castle with him. And if you
should happen to wander into his room by 'accident' one night, well, who would
be the wiser?"
Blaine had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything. Who would even want
to cheat on Prince Samuel? Certainly not anybody who deserved to be with him!
It just made him so furious, that it was all he could do to remind himself that
there was no way the prince would actually ask Rachel to marry him. He really
had nothing to worry about.
Except for how Shelby somehow always managed to get what she wanted for her
kids.
"I actually think this ball sounds like it's going to be a total bore," Jesse
said.
Before he could think better of it, Blaine piped up, "I'll go! In your place.
If you don't want to." The thought of being in the same room with Prince
Samuel, maybe even shaking his hand, it sent literal shivers through him.
Of course he was shot down immediately. "You? At the ball? Don't be absurd,"
his stepmother said. She laughed dismissively and then turned to her son. "It
might be a bore, but it's a great opportunity for you too. All the unattached
young women from the best families in the kingdom will be there. Plus music
industry executives I'll bet. You're graduating soon, and you need to start
networking your butt off."
"Oh no!" Rachel clutched dramatically at her throat. "Oh no, I feel a tickle!"
"It's okay, honey," Shelby said, stroking her hair soothingly. "Don't panic."
"But what if the prince wants me to sing at the ball?"
"Oh my god, you're right. Blaine, get your sister some lemon water. Chop-chop!"
Blaine was happy, actually, to be sent from the room, even if it was on a
bullshit errand for his "sister."
That small satisfaction disappeared, however, after Rachel took a sip of the
water. "Are these Meyer lemons? No, I can't have that."
.
They did go into the capital the next day, not to the vintage shop, but to an
exclusive and very expensive dress shop. As soon as Blaine saw someone getting
out of a limo and walking in, he stopped in his tracks. "Shelby, I don't think
we can afford—"
"Don't you dare ruin this for your sister with your petty provincialism!"
Shelby snapped at him.
"Yeah, but..." But Blaine had already been forced to take a second job just to
keep up the mortgage payments; all the money his father had left them was long
gone, and most of Shelby's money was going to support Jesse and Rachel at the
conservatory. And after Jesse graduated in the spring the student loan payments
would come due, and Blaine somehow doubted that Shelby would expect Jesse to
pay them back on his own.
"Do you expect her to snag a prince wearing something she got at the mall?"
"I could probably buy a used car with what one of these dresses costs."
"Look, do you want Rachel to marry the prince or not?"
No, of course he didn't! She would make poor Prince Samuel miserable. Of
course, Blaine couldn't say this. Instead he said, "I'm just not sure an
expensive dress is going to be the prince's number one criterion for choosing a
bride."
"Just listen to yourself, Blaine! You keep saying dress, like she's just going
to some sorority party. Your sister needs a gown for the ball, Blaine. A gown.
I only let you come with us because your type is supposed to be so
knowledgeable about fashion. I can see that thinking you'd be knowledgeable
about anything was a huge mistake on my part."
"Apparently," Blaine agreed. Yes, he was gay, but he owned three pairs of
pants, four t-shirts, and two sweaters. And if he ever thought of trying to get
Shelby to allow him to spend money on himself, it wouldn't be for clothes.
"Just...keep your mouth shut when we get inside and don't embarrass us."
"Maybe it would be better if he waited in the car," Rachel suggested.
So Blaine was sent back to the car. Shelby neglected to leave him the keys,
however, so he had to just stand there in the parking lot, leaning against it,
shivering in his light sweater and wishing he'd worn the heavy one.
Suddenly—Blaine didn't see where he came from or anything—but suddenly there
was a man there with him. Not just with him, but sitting on the hood of the
car, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. "You're underdressed, poor
thing," the man said.
"Who...what..." Blaine sputtered.
"I can't stand to see a handsome man underdressed."
"Are...are you from the dress...I mean, the gown store?"
The man laughed. "Hardly. I'm here to rescue you."
Blaine stared at him blankly.
"From the chill. Buy you a cup of coffee?"
Was this guy hitting on him? Blaine had never been hit on before—he really
didn't get out much—but he was pretty sure it looked something like this. And
yet, that didn't seem to be it.
While Blaine was continuing to stare dumbly, the man made a sprightly dismount
off the car and started walking toward the parking lot exit. Over his shoulder
he called, "Come on, Blaine. Shelby and Rachel are going to be busy for hours."
It was the strangest thing about the way this guy was walking. He didn't seem
to be in any hurry—he seemed to be gliding more than walking—and yet Blaine had
to run just to catch up to him by the time they were outside the coffee shop
down the block. "How did you..." he had to stop to catch his breath.
The man patted his shoulder and led him to an empty table. "Sit," he said
soothingly. "And I'll answer your very reasonable questions after I've gotten
our drinks."
No sooner had Blaine settled into his chair than the man was back, two steaming
coffees in hand. "Here, have a mocha. I know you don't normally drink them, but
you should. They're delicious."
Blaine took a sip and burned his tongue.
"Sorry," the man said, passing him an ice water, which Blaine was pretty sure
wasn't there before. "Should have warned you about that."
Blaine let an ice cube melt on his tongue, not taking his eyes off the man. He
wanted to see how he did whatever impossible thing he was going to do next.
"Aren't you going to ask me?" the guy finally said.
"Ask you what?"
"The obvious."
"How do you know...How did you..."
"There we go! My name is Kurt, and I really must apologize for not coming to
see you sooner. It's no excuse, given your level of need, but I really do have
an awful lot of boys assigned to me."
"That doesn't really answer my question."
"You are a feisty one, aren't you? With me, anyway. I'm not sure why can't show
this level of spirit with that awful so-called family of yours. Besides,
technically you didn't really ask a question. But, yes, I know what you were
getting at, of course, and so I'll skip to the answer. My name is Kurt, and I'm
your fairy godmother."
"Fairy godmother," Blaine repeated, disbelief evident in his voice.
"Surely you've heard of fairy godmothers before."
"You're a man."
"Pfft," Kurt said with a dismissive hand wave. "Young people today. Always so
literal."
"Oh. Oh," Blaine said, an embarrassed laugh escaping. "I'm sorry. I...yeah, I
actually thought you meant, like, that you were literally a fairy. With, like,
magical powers and stuff. Wow. I can't believe I thought you were serious for a
second."
"No, no," Kurt said, taking one of Blaine's hands in both of his and looking at
him earnestly. "By which I mean, yes. That part is literally true. The part
that's only figuratively true is the godmother part. Because, as you've
noticed, I'm male. Though I wouldn't say man per se, as that implies a
human..."
"Okay." Blaine stood up. "This has been nice, but...how much do I owe you for
the mocha?"
"Sit down, Blaine. If I'm not your fairy godmother, then how do I know about
Rachel throwing a fit over her cheap poster and Jesse saying that you were
humping it?"
Blaine froze. But then he realized: "Jesse must have told you. And now he's
setting me up for some elaborate prank..."
"Then how do I know it's really Prince Sam who you like?"
"I don't. I mean, so what if I did? Everyone likes Prince Samuel. He seems
like...you know, like a nice guy. Like someone who'd be fun to go get a beer
with."
"Mmm, he is," Kurt agreed. "He's even more fun to do tequila shots with. But
let's not get into that right now. How about this?"
Blaine waited. Kurt hummed to himself for a few seconds before he started
singing quietly: "Salagadoola mechicka boola..."
He paused, and Blaine joined in with: "Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo."
Blaine fell back into his chair. "How did you..."
"I've been trying to tell you, Blaine," Kurt said gently.
"But my mom used to sing me that song, and no one else knows it. I always
thought she made it up!"
"She did."
"So you..." It didn't make any sense, what Kurt was claiming. But he didn't
know how else to explain how he could know that song. "So you've really been
watching me my whole life?" he whispered.
"Yes!" Kurt said, smiling.
"I thought fairy godmothers were supposed to help their...their godchildren."
"Yes, exactly! That's why I'm here."
"If you're supposed to help me then why did you let them die?" Blaine shouted.
Everyone turned to stare, but he didn't care. "What the fuck kind of fairy
godmother are you anyway if you just watched them die? That's when I could have
used some fucking help!"
"Oh, sweetie." Kurt tried to take Blaine's hand, but Blaine yanked it away.
"Fairy godmothers' powers aren't nearly that strong. We can see everything, but
when it comes to doing things, it's mostly just parlor tricks. Conjuring stuff,
that kind of thing." A plate of buttermilk scones appeared on the table.
"You could have at least talked to me before now," Blaine said, through tears.
"You could have been my friend or something, couldn't you? I've been all alone
for almost my whole life."
"Ye-eah. I really am sorry, Blaine. I know I should spend more time with
orphans who need me than with hot blond...but, Blaine, fairies have needs too!"
Blaine didn't even look up. If this jerk was just going to talk about his own
needs, it was hard to see how he was any different than Rachel or Jesse.
(Though they wouldn't have given him a mocha or a plate of scones, even if they
could conjure them out of thin air.)
"Anyway," Kurt said chipperly, "I'm here to help you now. You have to listen to
me, Blaine, and get out of that house. Your stepmother is awful, and she's
killing your spirit."
Blaine waited. Kurt didn't seem inclined to go on. Finally Blaine said, "That's
it?"
"Yes!"
"That's not even a parlor trick! That's advice. It's obvious advice. You think
I don't know that she's killing my spirit? You think I don't know that I have
to get out? Now I think the scones really were just a parlor trick. Were they
up your sleeve or something?"
"They certainly were not!"
"You could at least conjure me a house or something, if you want me to move out
so bad."
Kurt shook his head. "We can't do anything big and obvious. There are so many
regulations...you'd be amazed."
"Regulations. Of course." Blaine picked up one of the scones and, out of
curiosity more than anything, took a small bite. It was delicate and flaky and
quite literally the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.
Kurt grinned with satisfaction. "It's good, right? I know I'm a crap fairy
godmother in a lot of ways, but when I'm good, I'm very, very good."
Blaine nodded and gulped down the rest of the scone. He took another and tried
to savor this one, knowing he wouldn't eat anything this good again for a long,
long time. If ever. He thought about asking his fairy godmother to conjure him
some more to take home and put in the freezer. Shelby and Rachel and Jesse
wouldn't even notice them—he did all the cooking, so they hardly ever went in
the freezer anyway, and especially not now that they were so preoccupied with
the...
"Conjure me an invitation to the prince's ball!"
Kurt raised an eyebrow.
"That's not big or obvious," Blaine pointed out. "Lots of commoners will be
there. And anyway, it's a masked ball."
"Yes, that would be well within the regulations. But, Blaine. How does going to
the ball help you get out of your stepmother's house?"
"Well. There will be lots of single women there, some of them wealthy, and—"
Kurt chuckled. "Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. You forget that I know everything. You
also don't seem to realize that boys who like girls don't get fairy godmothers
like me."
"I just meant—"
"It's fine." Kurt drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the table. It wasn't a
long-term solution to Blaine's problems, but getting Blaine laid certainly
couldn't hurt. In a way it was the least Kurt could do, after he really hadn't
been there for him. "Okay," he announced. "I'll get you to the prince's balls."
"He's throwing more than one?" Blaine asked.
"Oh, you're too precious."
.
Sam never brought men to his own bedroom at the palace, so it was disorienting
to be woken up before sunrise by another person in his bed. But just
momentarily. "Well, if it isn't my favorite fairy godmother!" he said, pulling
the sheets back to reveal a very naked and already very hard Kurt.
Kurt stretched, arching his back so his dick stood up even more. "I wouldn't
want you to miss your weekly injection."
"Best part of my week," Sam agreed, his own dick starting to harden. It wasn't
always literally the best part, but he did always enjoy it. The weekly
injections had been going on for...well, since Sam started sleeping around a
lot, so over five years now. The first time was at boarding school. Sam had
made it back to his room just in time for curfew after sneaking into town with
some friends to see a movie. He would have made it back sooner, but he stayed
after the movie to hook up with the cute concessions guy.
And there was Kurt, sitting on his bed, waiting for him. Sam hadn't seen him in
a few years, not since he first discovered he had a fairy godmother. He'd come
that first time to explain to Sam that, yes, the feelings he was having meant
he was gay, and, yes, that was perfectly fine.
Now he looked stern, though. Not comforting like the first time. "You're going
to get yourself killed, the way you're going," Kurt informed him.
"Um." Sam glanced toward the door. Curfew check was any second, and being a
prince really didn't get him any special leeway for stuff like having
unauthorized visitors in his room (which totally sucked). "Can you hide or
something?"
Kurt rolled his eyes, but he vanished just in time, just before Mr. Schuester
knocked.
"I'm here!" Sam said, throwing open the door.
"You and who else?" his housemaster asked, peering around.
"Just me, of course." Sam stepped aside so Mr. Schuester could come in.
"Everyone else is in their own room. I mean, I should hope so anyway. Otherwise
they're breaking curfew."
Mr. Schuester came in and checked. He checked in the closet and behind the
curtains and even under the bed. He knew the prince was up to something, but he
couldn't prove anything, so he wished him a good night and went on to check the
next room.
Kurt reappeared as soon as Sam was alone again. "You're a prince," he lectured.
"You can't go around fucking strange men in movie theater restrooms.
"He didn't know who I was!" Sam protested. "I was wearing a trucker hat and
sunglasses."
"Wow, that's almost as good a disguise as Clark Kent's."
"Better," Sam said. "Clark Kent wears regular glasses and no trucker hat."
"Just listen to yourself!"
Sam crossed his arms and flopped down petulantly onto his bed. "You told me it
was okay to be gay."
"It is okay to be gay. It's okay to be gay and slutty. You just need to start
using some common sense. You don't even use condoms!"
Sam scrunched up his nose. "I tried them and I hate them."
Kurt sighed and sat down next to him on the bed. "Yeah. I hate them too. Of
course, fairies don't have to worry about STDs."
"Must be nice," Sam said.
Kurt looked Sam up and down. "I could help you, actually. Share my immunity
with you."
Sam's face lit up. "You could? Do it, then." Kurt hesitated, so Sam added, "I
command you!"
Kurt laughed. "I'm not one of your subjects. You don't get to command me."
"Oh. Right. Well, then...please?"
"You want my..." Kurt took Sam's hand and slowly brought it toward himself,
giving Sam plenty of time to resist if he had been so inclined, and placed it
over the bulge in his pants. "You want my fairy injection?"
Sam might have laughed at the words fairy injection, but there was nothing
funny about what he was feeling. It was so hard and so big. Before tonight he
had only slept with his schoolmates, boys his own age, and none of them were
this big. He swallowed hard and asked, "Where would you, uh...give it to me?"
"You know where." Kurt spoke softly into his ear. "The same place you give it
to your little school friends."
"But..." It was hard to deny that the idea was turning him on, but it didn't
seem right. "But I'm royalty."
"So?" Kurt asked. Sam hadn't moved his hand away, and Kurt rubbed against it.
"So...a prince shouldn't take it in the ass."
"Well, that's your hang up. If you don't want it, that's up to you. But I will
remind you again that to me you're just another human."
"That's true," Sam said.
"If anything, you should be kneeling before me."
And the suggestion was somehow so appealing to Sam that he found himself doing
just that. He sank to his knees as Kurt stood in front of him and placed a hand
on his head. Kurt's pants came open all on their own, and there was the
prettiest cock Sam had ever seen. Not that he'd seen that many yet, but it was
so pink and perfect and...big. Really, really big. Not sure which answer he was
hoping for, he asked, "Will it hurt?"
"It'll feel amazing," Kurt promised, and Sam believed him.
Sam had sucked a couple guys' dicks before (never on his knees though!), but he
knew he wasn't really good at it yet. He really, really wanted to be good for
Kurt, though. Especially after he got his first taste! It was somehow sweet and
meaty at the same time, even though it wasn't like food at all, it was
like...like...the only thing Sam ever wanted in his mouth again, even if it
meant he would starve to death. He sucked on it greedily until Kurt pushed his
head away. "You can have an oral injection another time," he said. "But now I
want your ass."
Sam peered up at him and nodded earnestly. He didn't even care about the STD
protection or whatever, he just wanted Kurt's dick inside him. He clambered to
his feet—vaguely aware that all his clothes had disappeared—and bent over the
bed, the same position he liked to put his friends in before taking them.
He felt Kurt massaging his ass with something slippery, and then a strong,
pleasant scent that he couldn't quite place hit him. "Dude, is that..."
"Don't ever call me dude, sweetie," Kurt said. "And it's coconut oil."
For a second that struck Sam as a very strange thing to be rubbing into his
ass, but he quickly decided: "I like it!"
"Mm-hmm," Kurt agreed. "I find it much more sensual than lube." He slid an oil-
slick finger up inside Sam's ass and added, "Of course, you can't use oil with
condoms. Thank heavens that's not a problem for us."
"Fuck yeah," Sam gasped.
The finger in his ass became two. By the time two became three, he felt almost
ready to come undone. When the fingers were removed he felt bereft, but then he
felt that magnificent cock pressing up against his entrance instead. "Yes," he
said. "Please."
Kurt pressed in slowly—the deflowering of a boy as beautiful as this prince was
not only an experience to be savored, it was also a sacred responsibility. It
had to be done respectfully, delicately...
"Harder, dude! Come on!"
Okay, then.
Sam didn't expect Kurt to start fucking him quite so hard quite so suddenly. It
wasn't just his ass that was filled with cock, but it was like his whole being
was consumed with it. It was, just as Kurt had promised, amazing. "Fuck me,
fuck me, fuck me," he chanted.
Kurt knew he should have gone easier on the boy, but he just couldn't. Not with
how warm and tight and perfect he was. And certainly not with how desperate he
sounded.
Sam felt a tension building deep inside himself. It didn't start in his dick,
and so he didn't recognize what it was until the orgasm was ripping through
him, rendering him a shrieking, trembling mess. Just as his tremors were dying
down, Kurt's "injection" blasted into that sensitive, secret spot buried
within, setting off a series of aftershocks.
Jake heard screams from the prince's bedroom next door. He sprang out of bed,
grabbing his weapon from the night stand, and rushed through the connecting
door. There he saw the prince, naked, face down on the bed, ass hanging over
the edge. "Your Highness! Where's the assailant?" He knew, of course, that the
prince had become sexually active with other boys of late. He also knew that
the prince had a distinct preference for not being the one in this particular
position.
"Jake," Sam muttered happily, not bothering to lift his head. "I'm fine. It was
so good."
"So you're telling me this was consensual?"
"Yeah," Sam sighed.
"Where is...he?"
"I guess he disappeared. He's a fairy."
Jake didn't comment on the gay slur, guessing the prince meant it
affectionately. He draped a blanket over the prince, who didn't seem inclined
to move, and said, "Your Highness, may I speak frankly?"
"Go ahead, dude."
"If you're going to be doing...this...in the dorms, I'd suggest you try to keep
the noise level down. I can protect you from a lot of things, but getting
expelled isn't one of them."
Kurt reappeared as soon as Jake had gone. "He's right, you know. Also, I should
warn you: don't let other guys fuck you that hard right away. I used a charm so
it won't hurt until tomorrow, but—"
"Can you use the charm every time you give me my injection?"
"Um...yeah, of course, but I'm talking about with other guys."
"Then there's nothing to worry about. I'm not going to let anyone beneath me do
that to me."
"Well, that's up to you. You sure seemed to like it, though."
"But I'm a prince."
Kurt thought the young prince would change his mind after reflecting on what he
was missing out on, but he never did: Sam never took it in the ass from anyone
else. Kurt, on the other hand, didn't have any hangups about bottoming for an
inferior, so there was plenty of variety to what became their weekly
assignations.
This week Kurt suggested, "I was thinking you might be due for an oral
injection."
"Were you, now?" Sam knew Kurt had a thing for his mouth—lots of guys did—and
he gave him his best flirty, crooked smile that showed off the fullness of his
lips and just a little bit of tongue. "I'd be happy to take it in my mouth. But
first..." He flipped Kurt onto his stomach and spread his legs apart. Sam liked
blowjobs as much as the next guy, but it hardly seemed worth getting woken up
this early without someone getting fucked.
Kurt groaned and squirmed against the mattress. For however many hundreds of
years old he was—and Sam was never able to pin him down on an exact age—he was
like a perpetual teenager in terms of horniness.
"Oil?" Sam asked.
Kurt gestured at the bedside table, where a jar of coconut oil, already warmed
to body temperature, appeared. Sam dipped his fingers into the jar, gathering a
generous amount to coat his lover with. He tended to drag this part out a
little longer than necessary whenever he was preparing to fuck Kurt, just
because he so loved watching the beautiful fairy writhe and wriggle impatiently
on his fingers.
"Sam..." Kurt never begged. He was a magical being, for crying out loud. But
the plaintive tone in his voice when he said Sam wasn't entirely dissimilar to
begging.
He groaned, low and throaty, when the prince finally slid his cock into him.
And Sam groaned too. So it wasn't like Kurt was taking advantage of his own
godchild. Or, at least, it wasn't entirely like that.
Sam knew that Kurt could take as rough a fucking as he cared to give. But it
was early and he was still a little sleepy, and so he fucked him languorously.
Slowly but deeply, hitting all the spots that drove Kurt crazy. It was enough
to push him right up to the edge, but not quite enough to push him over it.
"Baby..."
"You like that, Kurt?"
"Yes, but...I need to come, sweetie!" Kurt tried to grind up harder onto Sam's
cock, but Sam was holding him in place too firmly.
Sam sucked a spot on his neck before whispering in his ear, reminding him, "You
can't come yet anyway. You have to save it for my oral injection."
Kurt groaned again, but this time it was in exasperation.
Sam knew not to push him too hard, or he would just disappear—literally—and get
some other guy to take care of him, leaving no one to take care of Sam but his
own hand. And anyway, Sam needed to come now too. Kurt's begging always did
that to him.
Finally Sam started drilling him hard. Kurt bit down on and screamed into a
down pillow.
"Oh, god, Kurt!" Something about Kurt's screams got him every time, and soon he
was filling Kurt's ass with his come.
Limp and relaxed, he let Kurt push him off and roll him over onto his back.
Kurt knelt over his face, and Sam compliantly opened his mouth to let Kurt
face-fuck him.
He ended up unable to just lie there and take it, though. Kurt still had the
nicest dick he'd ever tasted...and Sam couldn't stand to just let Kurt face-
fuck him, he had to pull him closer and suck on it, hard. And Kurt's
come...god, that tasted even better. He got a nice big blast, which he held in
his mouth for a long time before swallowing it with a satisfied gulp.
Kurt climbed off and lay next to him, resting his head on Sam's chest. "You're
so good at that," he sighed contentedly.
"Yeah, well. Lucky for me my weekly injection tastes amazing." He kissed the
top of Kurt's head and closed his eyes.
"Don't go back to sleep, Sam."
"Why not?" the prince murmured sleepily. "It's early."
"Because I need to talk to you."
"'Bout what?"
"About the ball."
Sam pulled the covers over his head. "The ball is the last thing I want to talk
about. Why does everybody want to talk about this stupid ball all the time?"
"I know, sweetie." Kurt patted his shoulder over the blanket. "But I have this
godson, an orphan, horrible family life—"
"I thought he was an orphan."
"He is."
"Then how does he have a family life?"
"It's his stepfamily. May I continue?"
Sam answered with an affirmative grunt.
"He's completely hung up on you, and, long story short, he asked for an
invitation to the ball."
"Fine. You didn't have to bother me with this, you know. My father's people are
sending out invitations to anyone who wants them, practically."
"Yes, but that's not what I'm asking. It would mean so much to him if you
would...show him a good time."
Sam peeked out from under the blanket and gave Kurt that crooked smile again.
"Fuck him, you mean?"
"Yes, of course I mean fuck him. But gently. He's a virgin."
"Mmm..." Fucking a virgin was supposed to be the best thing ever or something,
but Sam generally preferred guys with some experience. "Is he hot?"
"Very. Dark curly hair, beautiful amber eyes, and this ass that just makes you
want to sink your cock inside it and—"
"Why don't you then?"
Kurt sighed. "I'd love to. But he's my godson, and—"
"I'm your godson too," Sam reminded him. "When has that ever stopped you?"
"If you'll let me finish...This godson, unlike you, is a romantic. He wants his
first time to be with the man he's in love with. And that's you."
"But...he hasn't even met me. Has he?"
"No, not in person. But you have that effect on people."
"Because I'm just that charming?"
"You are, actually. It should be your name, in fact. Prince Charming."
Sam chortled. "Yeah, that'll definitely catch on."
"So will you do it, sweetie?"
Sam would have liked to say sure. Normally he would have. He trusted Kurt's
opinion on the guy's hotness, and he wasn't exactly averse to fucking hot guys
even if they maybe weren't that skilled yet. But it was the fucking ball, and
so he had to answer, "I don't know, Kurt. My parents are, like...they're really
serious about this ball and how I'm supposed to be a good host or whatever, and
the king has specifically warned me not to wander off for any 'liaisons'
because I'm supposed to mingle and shit, and dance with the girls, and..."
"Mmm, yes, I see the problem. Well, just introduce yourself to him at the ball,
and then you can make a date for later, and—"
"No!" Sam sat up in bed. "No! Are you crazy?"
"What on earth is wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me? You're the one who's supposed to be all-knowing and you
don't even get the genius of the masked ball!"
"You told your father it was because masks are cool. Like superheroes."
"Yeah, of course that's what I told him. And he bought it because he thinks I'm
a huge dork."
"You are a huge dork," Kurt said. "But in the most adorable way."
"Yeah. Thanks. I still can't believe you don't get it."
"Enlighten me, then."
"He said he doesn't expect me to find someone to settled down with at this
thing, right? But what if he really does? Or my mother, what if she's going to
start in right after the ball with, you know, asking me about the eligible
young ladies I met. But if I don't even know who anybody is because of the
masks, then that's that."
"So you think your father just told you you don't need to find a bride so he
could lull you into a false sense of complacency."
"Maybe," Sam said. "People tend to think I'm naive and then use it against me."
"Sam, your parents are the most honest monarchs I've ever met. Ever. And I've
known a lot of monarchs."
"Maybe. I mean, yeah, generally they are, but...I mean, they did manage to
convince everyone that Princess Beth was conceived in wedlock.
"That's not the same as plotting against their own son."
"You can't be too careful."
"Okay, you're being ridiculous," Kurt said.
"Am I." Sam knew what people thought of him. Usually they didn't have the nerve
to say it right to his face, though.
"Yes. You can still have your little masks and you don't have to ask any of the
girls' names. You don't have to ask any of the guys' names. Just, I'll have my
godson tell you I sent him and then you can get his number...no big deal."
Sam got up and stood by the side of the bed. "I don't care for your
condescending tone."
"Conde-...?" Kurt got up too. "Sam, stop being such a baby about this. What I'm
asking you for is such a little thing. I don't like to bring up how much you
owe me..."
"How much I owe you?"
"I mean...you're my godson and it's my pleasure to help you, of course, but
where do you think you'd be without your weekly injections?"
"Oh. Wow. Are you even being serious right now?"
"Of course I'm being serious. Now, I'm not saying I find them disagreeable,
but..."
"You have a lot of fucking nerve, Kurt." Kurt took a step backward, and Sam
told him, "Sit down." Kurt sat on the edge of the bed. He was fully clothed
again. Sam wasn't, but that didn't bother him. He laughed and said, "I can't
believe you really don't remember...I guess you shouldn't drink tequila."
"Remember what?" Kurt asked nervously. The mention of tequila had him a little
worried. He didn't always remember everything from nights involving tequila
shots.
"It was...around a year ago, I guess. You get talkative when you're drunk, you
know. And you let something slip about the weekly injections."
"Oh god."
"Yeah. So I know the first one is the only one that actually did anything to
protect me. All the other times—all the fucking hundreds of other times—have
been totally useless."
"Well, I wouldn't say they've been useless," Kurt protested.
Sam glared at him.
"Okay, I never lied to you," Kurt said. "I just...I never said the injections
had to be recurring, you're the one who got that in your head somehow. I
just...never disabused you of the notion."
"You sounded a lot sorrier the night you drunkenly confessed," Sam said softly.
"You seemed so remorseful. You said you just couldn't help it because you liked
fucking me so much, and you thought I liked it too, which I did, but you never
meant to hurt me, and you asked me to please, please forgive you."
"I did never mean to hurt you."
"Yeah, well. That's why I did forgive you. Because I really thought you were
sincerely sorry, and besides, you were right about me liking it too. So I not
only forgave you, but I even agreed to keep playing along."
Kurt smiled weakly. "This is why you're my favorite godson ever."
"Why? Because I'm so easy to manipulate?"
"No! Because you're—"
"I agreed to play along. As in, both of us knowing it was just a game.
Apparently, you've thought all along that I was still in the dark. And not only
that, but now you're also trying to make me think I owe you for it? You're
going to try to use it as leverage against me to get your new favorite godson
laid?"
"No! It's not like that at all."
"Cut the bullshit, Kurt, it's exactly like that. So here's the deal. I don't
care if this guy comes to the ball. I'm sure none of this is his fault, and I
couldn't really stop you from getting an invitation for him anyway. But if you
ever want me to forgive you again, you'd better make damn sure I can't tell who
this guy is. That means he doesn't tell me his name or let me see his face the
entire night. And you're not allowed to tell me who he is either. Understand?"
"I think you might actually really like him, if you'd just—"
"Do we have an understanding or not?"
"Sure. Okay."
"Now get out."
Kurt disappeared without another word. Knowing he was probably still listening,
though, Sam added, "And in case you were wondering, our weekly date is canceled
indefinitely!"
***** Call Me Darren *****
"Blaine!"
Blaine turned from the window. "Yeah?"
"What the hell are you doing? I've been calling you for like ten minutes."
"I didn't hear you."
"Obviously."
"What do you want, Jesse?"
"Watch the bitchiness! I'm trying to ask you if you ironed my socks."
Blaine sighed. "Yes. I ironed your socks."
"Because they don't look ironed."
"They're socks, Jesse."
"Oh, I get it. This is because you actually wanted to go to the ball, isn't it?
I mean, what you think you'd do there I have no idea. Other than make an ass of
yourself swooning over Prince Finn."
"Not exactly," Blaine said distractedly. He had his invitation safely tucked
inside a cookbook where no one but him would ever look. A note had come inside
it: Await further instructions. But there hadn't been any; he hadn't heard from
Kurt at all. He was starting to wonder whether he had imagined the whole
thing—though every time he checked, the invitation was really there. But the
ball was tonight, and if the further instructions weren't forthcoming, then he
had to figure some stuff out.
How to get to the palace was the first one. Rachel and Jesse were taking
Jesse's car, and they had left Rachel's at school. So that pretty much meant
he'd have to take Shelby's...without her killing him. Or at least not killing
him until afterwards.
Then there was the question of what he was going to wear. He didn't have
anything even close to "evening wear." At least he had a mask, a plain gold
one. Actually it was Rachel's, but she'd decided after she bought it that she
needed one with jewels instead.
Blaine ended up ironing Jesse's socks again, while making sure his stepbrother
watched so he couldn't claim not to believe they'd been ironed. And then Rachel
yelled at him for wasting his time on ironing socks when she needed his help
with a hair emergency. But, somehow, both his stepsiblings made it out the door
while it was still light out: Rachel wanted to be there early enough to stake
out a strategic place in the reception line for when the prince would make his
entrance and greet everyone.
Shelby took dozens of pictures before letting them go. She stood in the
driveway waving at them, even after the car had disappeared from view. When she
came back inside she went to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. "Isn't it
exciting?" she asked Blaine as he was unloading the dishwasher.
"Uh-huh," he said, peering out the window. He really didn't think Kurt was
going to show. At least if Shelby was going to get drunk, that would make
taking the car easier.
"I wish I could have married a prince," she said. "I wouldn't be a young widow
now, supporting three children by myself."
"Yeah, that would've been great," Blaine said.
"You're so stupid, Blaine. If I had married a prince, it wouldn't mean you
would be royalty."
Blaine didn't respond to that. He glanced out the window again, and it was a
good thing, because there was Kurt, standing right outside the kitchen window
and gesturing at Blaine to meet him in the back yard. "Excuse me," he said,
walking toward the door.
"Where are you going?"
"I think I saw a raccoon outside."
"Well, get rid of it!" Shelby shrieked. Raccoons freaked her out.
"Ready?" Kurt asked as soon as Blaine stepped outside.
"Well, not really," Blaine said, gesturing at his jeans and t-shirt. "I...I
mean, Jesse has an old suit I can wear, I guess..."
Kurt got this amused look on his face. "Yes. By all means go put Jesse's suit
on."
Blaine had really been hoping Kurt was going to help him out in the wardrobe
department. But he certainly wasn't going to complain—the important thing was
that he was going to the ball! He ducked back into the house and slipped up the
stairs, hoping not to make a sound to alert Shelby. He locked the door to
Jesse's room behind him and tried on the gray, polyester-blend suit. It wasn't
that much too long for him.
Kurt appeared behind him in the mirror, laughing. "I can't believe you actually
thought I'd let any godson of mine go the ball in that suit!" It was instantly
transformed into an elegant white tie ensemble.
"Wow!" Blaine said. He didn't know anything about clothes or fashion, but even
he could tell this outfit Kurt had put him in was of the highest quality. And
it fit so well, like it had been custom-made just for him...which, actually, he
guessed it had, in a way. "This is so...thank you!"
"You're welcome. But you don't get to keep that. At dawn it's going to turn
back into your stepbrother's crappy suit."
"Of course, of course. Wait, dawn? Not midnight?"
"The ball will have barely gotten started by midnight. Why would I only give
you till then?"
"I don't know. For some reason I thought—"
"Blaine!" Shelby yelled from downstairs. "Are you back in the house already?
Are you sure the raccoon is gone?"
Kurt rolled his eyes. "She's going to be a problem for us, isn't she?"
"Yeah, probably," Blaine said.
There was a scream from downstairs then, and the sound of something being
knocked over, and the front door opening and slamming. Then Blaine's phone. It
was Shelby. "Goddamn it, Blaine! You let the little fucker in the house! What
is wrong with you?"
"Uh. Sorry."
"Sorry? Sorry? Blaine, that beast could have rabies! What if it had tried to
bite me? What if it bites Lucifer? Of all the..."
Blaine was distracted from Shelby's ranting by the sight of Kurt literally
rolling on the floor holding in silent laughter.
"I'll get rid of it."
"How?" Shelby demanded.
"Uh...animal control?"
"Animal control will take a couple hours to get there. What if it attacks poor
Lucifer in the meantime?"
"Lucifer's in Rachel's room. I'll just shut the door and he'll be safe."
"You know Lucifer doesn't like being trapped in rooms."
"Yeah, but he probably doesn't like being bitten by rabid raccoons either."
"Goddamn it, Blaine. And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"
"Maybe you can hang out at Terri's for a while."
There was a pause, and then Shelby snapped, "Fine. Call me when that thing is
out of the house." She hung up without waiting for a response.
Kurt said, "Okay, get that mask from Rachel's closet."
Blaine didn't even wonder how Kurt knew about the mask, but he did wonder:
"What about the raccoon?"
Kurt waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, I sent him back home as soon as your
stepmother was out the door. Poor things hate being inside houses; I didn't
want to upset him more than necessary."
Blaine got the mask and showed it to Kurt. "What are you going to zap this
into?"
"I'm not going to zap it into anything, it's perfect."
"Well, I mean, it's fine. I wouldn't say perfect..."
Kurt gave him that amused look again. "Really. What would make it perfect, in
your opinion?"
"Well, like...if it were a Batman mask or something. Or, like, not Batman
specifically, but like, I used to draw this superhero I called Nightbird, and,
I mean, I could show you a sketch of his mask if you wanted..."
Kurt shook his head fondly. "Okay, one: No. This gold mask is simple, elegant,
and timeless. In short, perfect for a royal ball. I don't know what's wrong
with your sister, choosing that hideous, tacky bejeweled monstrosity over
this."
"Stepsister," Blaine corrected him.
"Right."
Blaine sighed. He knew he should probably just shut up and be grateful—and he
actually was grateful, incredibly so—but he had to ask: "Is there a two?"
"There is a two, and it's that you're adorable."
"But still no to the superhero style?"
"Still no. Put it on." Blaine did. "Is it comfortable?" Kurt asked.
"Yeah, it's all right."
"I didn't ask if it's all right, I asked if it's comfortable. Because you can't
take it off."
"What, you mean they'll kick me out?"
"I mean that once you leave this house, that mask will be physically
unremovable from your face until after the ball. It's a condition of you
getting to go."
"Oh!"
"But I can make it comfortable first. Which is why I suggest you tell me now if
it needs any adjustments."
"Um, actually it does pinch my nose a little..."
Kurt adjusted the mask until it fit so well Blaine barely even noticed it was
there. And then he took it off and set it on Jesse's vanity.
"I thought it was stuck on my face until after the ball," Blaine said.
Kurt rolled his eyes. "After you leave this house, I said. Weren't you even
listening? It's going to be a lot easier for me to do your hair with your mask
off."
Blaine glanced in the mirror. He thought his hair looked fine. "What are you
going to do to my hair?"
Kurt shook his head and made a sad clucking noise. "All these beautiful curls.
It breaks my heart to do this, but I'm going to gel them into submission."
"What!? Why?"
"Because, Blaine, you have to be incognito." An open jar of gel appeared in one
hand, and he looked at it distastefully, two fingers hovering over it. He
quickly decided to apply the gunk without actually touching it.
"Isn't this overkill, though? I mean, I'll already have a mask on the whole
time, and no one there will know me anyway, except for Jesse and Rachel."
"Oh, they're too self-absorbed; they wouldn't notice you even without a mask."
"So then..."
"So I can't take any chances. It's...kind of a fairy regulations thing," Kurt
said. There was no way he was going to tell Blaine about his spat with the
prince, but "fairy regulations," while vague, wasn't a lie. The regulations did
say that fairies had to honor any agreements they made. "And for the same
reason, you cannot tell anyone who you are, or give any clues about who you
are."
"Not even just my first name?"
"Of course not. You think Blaine is a common first name in this kingdom? It's
not a common first name anywhere."
"So what do I tell people if they ask my name?"
"You say, quote, 'Call me Darren,' unquote. See? That's not a lie, because
you're not actually saying it's your name. You're just telling people to call
you that. Got it?"
"Yeah, but...why Darren?"
"Why not Darren? You don't like it, pick a different name, I don't care. Just
nothing that starts with B or ends with -aine."
Blaine looked in the mirror. He almost didn't recognize himself with his hair
plastered to his head. At least it wasn't likely to get in his eyes when he
danced, he thought, forcing himself to see a bright side. Kurt stood behind him
and sized him up. "Let's just get the mask back on and you can be on your way."
"Um, okay, but how?"
"Just like you did before, 'Darren.' Hold it up to your face and tie it in the
back."
"No, I mean...I don't have a car, and I'm sure Shelby took hers to go to
Terri's..."
"Oh, right, transportation! Give me..."
"You want me to dig up a pumpkin from the garden?"
Kurt's mouth dropped open and he fixed Blaine with an incredulous stare. After
several long seconds of silence he asked, "What on earth would I want a pumpkin
for?"
Blaine blushed. "I just thought..."
Kurt waited.
"Never mind. What did you want me to give you?"
"Your phone, Darren. So I can download an app for you."
"Oh." Blaine handed over his phone, while apologizing, "It's not really a
smartphone..."
Kurt flipped the phone open and inspected it with wonder. "Wow! Can you even
text with this thing?"
"Yeah, but if I want to type an S I have to hit the 7 button four times."
Kurt shook his head sadly. "I'm really sorry I've neglected you so long,
sweetie." He zapped it into the latest model iPhone, downloaded the Uber app,
and handed it back. "My credit card info will disappear at dawn, but you can
keep the phone."
"Fairies have credit cards? Really?"
"That's what you're choosing to question?"
"Nope! I'm good. Thank you for everything, Kurt!"
Kurt had to show him how to summon a driver. Blaine put the mask back on, got
the invitation from the kitchen and tucked it in his pocket, and went with Kurt
to wait on the front porch for the car. As they saw a white Jetta turn onto
Blaine's block, Kurt asked, "Do we need to review your rules for tonight?"
"Uh...no telling anyone who I am and no taking off the mask."
"And...?"
"There's more?"
"You have to be out by dawn! Do you even pay attention?"
"Right. Dawn."
Kurt sighed with theatrical exasperation. "Sunrise is at 7:02 tomorrow. Maybe
you should set an alarm for half an hour before that."
"Right." Blaine, unfamiliar with his new iPhone, poked around trying to find
the alarm app. Kurt had to point out the picture of the clock. Blaine was still
fiddling with it when the Uber driver pulled into the driveway. Kurt ushered
him into the passenger seat and shut the door. The driver was taking the car
out of park when Blaine said, "Wait!" He rolled down the window and held the
phone out to Kurt. "Is this right?" he asked. He didn't want to accidentally
break the rule about leaving by dawn because he had somehow set the alarm
wrong.
Kurt looked at the phone and frowned. "This is set for 6:45. I suggested a half
an hour."
"Oh, yeah, but I mean, it's not gonna take me that long to just walk out the
door, is it?"
"Do you really want to run that risk?"
"Risk? No, but I mean....what actually happens if I don't make it out in time?"
Kurt made some sort of gesture to the driver, who started backing up into the
street. Kurt smiled as they pulled away and said, "I don't know what'll happen.
I guess I could turn you into a pumpkin. Want to find out?"
Blaine changed the alarm so it was set for 6:22.
.
Ryder escorted the prince to his dressing room. "Señor Martinez has a new
apprentice," he informed Prince Samuel. "His security clearance checks out, but
if you'd rather not have him there..."
"It's cool, I totally trust David." David Martinez had been Sam's tailor for as
long as Sam could remember. He was probably in his forties now, but hot for an
old guy. Sam had gotten a lot of boners over the years from David fitting him
for new clothes.
He hadn't ever actually fucked him though. Not that he hadn't wanted to. David
ignored his accidental boners and awkward teenage flirting for years. Sam
thought maybe he was being too subtle, so he just came out and propositioned
him while being fitted for an outfit for his eighteenth birthday party. He
still remembered his rejection—in part because he usually only got rejected by
straight guys (and by no means all of them), and in part because it actually
made him realize something.
David had told him that he was flattered, of course, but that it would be too
"icky" for him—not that there was anything icky about His Highness, he added
quickly, but because of their relative ages and the fact that one of them was
still technically a minor. And that even though that one would soon be a legal
adult, David wouldn't be able to think of him that way.
And besides, he added, he had found that hooking up with people he had an
ongoing professional relationship with rarely turned out well for everyone
involved. Had the prince ever noticed the same thing?
The prince had not, in fact, ever noticed the same thing. He'd fucked that one
guard a few times, before he quit. And his driver...before he quit.
Oh.
So, yeah, after that he stopped hitting on people who worked for him. Well,
people who worked for him long-term.
It was a distinction that was sometimes important, like with David's new
apprentice, Jeremiah. That and the fact that the guy worked for David, not for
Sam.
Jeremiah was gorgeous. If David didn't have an unimpeachable reputation for
professionalism, Sam would suspect he'd hired him for his looks.
Sam didn't necessarily have a "type," but sometimes a guy had a certain feature
that just got to him, and with Jeremiah it was his hair. It was just a shade
darker than his own and so wavy and so thick and he couldn't rid himself of the
image of holding on to it while fucking the living daylights out of the guy.
"So, Jeremiah," Sam started as he was buttoning up the new white shirt that
David had just handed him. "How long have you been working with David?"
"Not quite two months, Your Highness."
"Yeah? And what were you doing before that?"
"I was...I was working at The Gap, actually." Sam had no idea what The Gap
was—he made a mental note to ask Ryder later—but based on the way Jeremiah said
it he wondered if it was something seedy, like a strip club or something. As
much as he liked the idea of Jeremiah stripping, he doubted it was that
exactly. David probably wouldn't have hired him if that had been the case.
Or maybe he would have, because David scrunched up his nose slightly at the
mention of The Gap and hastened to add, "Yes, well, everybody has to eat. But
Jeremiah's portfolio is very impressive, all the more so for being completely
self-taught."
"Cool." Sam smiled at Jeremiah. "Maybe you can make the suit for my wedding."
"Oh, no! I'm still just an apprentice!"
"That's all right, I won't be ready to get married for a long, long time," Sam
said with a wink.
"There's no special...girl...then?"
"Jeremiah!" David snapped. "Your Highness, I apologize deeply for the
impertinence of my—"
"It's all right, I like his impertinence," Sam said. To Jeremiah he added,
"You're staying for the ball, right?"
Jeremiah, despite having been defended by the prince himself, was still a
little chastened after being reprimanded by his boss. "No, Your Highness. I
wasn't invited."
"Because I hadn't met you before! I'd never knowingly not invite someone so
hot."
Jeremiah wasn't actually sure the prince was flirting with him. That is, it
certainly seemed like he was, but...he was a prince! Not to mention pretty much
the hottest guy on the planet. But the flirting just got more overt as the
fitting went on.
Finally Señor Martinez took a step back and took one final look at the suit.
"Esta perfecto. If I may say so, Your Highness."
"You may, and I agree. Beautiful work as always, David."
"Thank you, Your Highness." He gave a quick bow. "If there's nothing else, I'll
just get Jeremiah back to the shop so we can find something for him to wear,
since Your Highness has been so generous—"
"Actually," the prince said, "I'd like him to stay for a few minutes. If you
can spare him. I'm sure we can arrange for a car to bring him back to the
shop."
Señor Martinez hesitated for a few seconds. "Very well, Your Highness. May
I...may I have a minute with him first?"
"Of course."
Señor Martinez took him by the shoulder and led him out into the hall. There
was another guard out there, but Señor Martinez ignored him completely. Placing
a hand on Jeremiah's shoulder, he said, "I'm sorry, maybe I should have warned
you that this might happen, but..."
"Warned me?"
"You don't have to stay with him. He may be a prince, but he can't make you...I
mean, he won't try to force you. I've heard a lot of rumors, but I've never
heard anyone even suggest that he's ever tried to force anyone. But my point is
that I want you to know you can say no, you don't have to feel pressured..."
"Pressured? Señor Martinez, I don't mean any disrespect, but I think you must
be crazy if you think I'd want to say no to what I think Prince Samuel is going
to ask."
"I see."
"No, I mean, I don't think you're crazy, obviously. It's just...you know, I'm
young...and single...and he's so hot. And chances like this don't come around
every day." Jeremiah was going to do this—whatever this the prince had in
mind—regardless of what his boss thought about it. But he still hoped Señor
Martinez would understand and not lose all respect for him.
Señor Martinez gave his shoulder a little pat. "Okay. I just had to make sure
you knew you weren't obligated."
"Thank you, sir."
"And...you're not expecting it to be more than a one-time thing, I hope."
"No. No, of course not." Though wouldn't it be amazing if...But, no. Señor
Martinez was right. Jeremiah was realistic enough to know that.
As soon as Jeremiah stepped back into the dressing room—alone—the guard stepped
out. The prince walked over very close to him and asked softly, "Did he warn
you about me?"
"Sort of. He said I didn't have to let you...But, Your Highness, I want you
to."
That was all the prince needed to hear, apparently, and he started removing the
clothing that Jeremiah and Señor Martinez had so carefully helped him into.
Jeremiah felt vaguely like he was supposed to be taking his own clothes off
too, but he couldn't help but just watch. Jeremiah had seen a few pictures of
the prince in swim trunks, so he sort of already knew about his chest and his
abs, but seeing them up close and in person was just...wow. By the time he got
a look at the royal dick, as hard and pink and tall as he ever would have
imagined, Jeremiah was almost literally swooning.
He didn't get to look for long. As soon as the prince was undressed, he pushed
Jeremiah up against the wall and started nibbling on his neck while unbuttoning
his shirt. "I wanted to do this from the second I saw you," he said, right
before he moved the nibbling down to his chest and unbuttoned Jeremiah's pants.
"You could have, Your Highness," Jeremiah blurted out. "In front of my boss,
your guards...I wouldn't have minded."
"Wanky," the prince said. "You know my guards are right outside the door. I'm
not gonna invite them in or anything, but feel free to be as loud as you want."
Jake and Ryder heard a loud groan come from inside the dressing room. Ryder
wanted to pretend to ignore it, but Jake gave a little smirk and said, "Looks
like His Highness found one with an exhibitionism kink."
"He probably doesn't realize," Ryder said.
"No one groans that loud without realizing that someone's gonna hear."
Ryder didn't answer. He hadn't been talking about the apprentice anyway, he
meant Prince Samuel. He was pretty sure the prince had no idea how hard it was
for Ryder, hearing him fuck any and every guy in the kingdom...except for him.
There was another groan, louder than the first. It went straight to Ryder's
gut, and he let out a little noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a
whimper.
Jake looked at him sympathetically. "You okay, man? You need to take a break?"
"No." Guards to the prince didn't get to just take a break. He really needed to
get his shit together before someone other than Jake caught him being
unprofessional. It was just hard, when he could imagine in such vivid detail
what the prince was probably doing to that lucky bastard right now.
The prince, in fact, had the lucky bastard face down on the chaise longue right
now and was stretching him with oil-coated fingers.
Jeremiah was vaguely aware of the scent of coconuts suddenly filling the room.
He didn't care about that, though. He was only interested in the fact that the
prince's fingers were inside him, that the prince was actually going to fuck
him. He still couldn't believe Señor Martinez thought he might not want this.
Who wouldn't want a gorgeous prince to be their first!?
This Jeremiah guy had such a sweet little ass. So tight. Oh, uh... "Have you
done this before?"
Jeremiah froze for a second. Would the prince stop if he told the truth? Not
wanting to take the chance, he said, "Yeah, of course."
Sam repositioned the boy in front of him, scooting him up so his elbows rested
on the head rest. Sam loved hearing guys scream for him, and he didn't want
Jeremiah to be muffled by the cushions.
Jeremiah held onto the head rest and spread his legs as wide as he could. He
felt the prince moving around behind him, and he couldn't believe this was
really about to— "Oh! Ooooh!" The prince's cock was inside him! It was pushing
in deeper and deeper, and all he could do was let his head drop and groan
deeply.
"Yeah?" Sam asked. He pulled out and thrust in again, a little faster than the
first time. "You like that?"
Jeremiah answered with another groan, and Sam knew just what he meant. He kind
of missed it already...taking it, that is. Not that giving it wasn't also
pretty great. Really great, actually. In fact, about the only thing that could
make this better is if he had those fistfuls of hair he was picturing earlier.
"Lift your head up."
Jeremiah obeyed immediately, realizing with chagrin that the prince had asked
him a direct question and he hadn't even answered it. "Yes, Your Highness," he
answered belatedly, feeling the prince's hands working their way into his hair.
"Yes, thank you, I love it." And he did love it, so much that he didn't even
care that it kind of hurt.
The groans from inside the prince's dressing room turned to yelps, and the
yelps grew louder and faster together. Ryder thought he could hear the slapping
of skin against skin, but that was probably his imagination: the walls were
very solidly built, after all. He knew he wasn't imagining the occasional
actual words coming out of the boy's mouth:
"God!"
"Fuck!"
"Your Highness!"
He didn't know why—it wasn't like it was the only time he ever heard it—but Sam
really got off on guys calling out Your Highness while he fucked them. "Say
that again," he instructed Jeremiah.
Jeremiah wasn't sure what he'd just said that the prince liked. "Your
Highness?"
"Yeah. Scream it when you come."
And then the prince reached around and started stroking him, then jerking him,
and it was so overwhelming and Jeremiah still had no idea what he was supposed
to scream when he came, which he was about to do any second now, until at the
last possible second it dawned on him and he wailed: "Yo-...Your Highness!"
Fuck, that was hot. Between the screaming and the muscles tightening around his
dick, Sam soon found himself unloading inside that cute little ass.
And Jeremiah, he was perfect, he didn't shut up for a second. "Oh god oh god
Your Hiiiiiighness!"
Oh god, Ryder echoed in his thoughts. This was the worst part, hearing the guys
come. He glanced at Jake, standing there so stoically, and muttered under his
breath, "Must be nice."
"Yeah, I'd say the kid thinks it's pretty nice," Jake agreed.
Ryder blushed. He hadn't even meant to say anything out loud, much less for his
partner to actually hear it. But then, he knew that Jake already knew how he
felt, so... "I actually meant you," he said.
"Me?"
"Yeah, you know. Being all...straight and everything and...able to listen to
this kind of thing without it...affecting you..."
Jake chuckled a little. Since Ryder was finally sort of admitting what was
going on with him, Jake decided he may as well share too. "You're right, I have
it easier than you. I'm not in love with him."
"I wouldn't say I'm—"
"But I'm not all straight, like you said."
"You're...not?" This was definitely news to Ryder!
"No. Mostly I am, but I mean...I've accepted blow jobs from guys on occasion."
"Yeah, well, big deal," Ryder said. "I might accept one from a girl."
"Sure," Jake said. "But also...No, His Highness fucking random guys really
doesn't...affect me, as you put it. But when that fairy shows up and..." Jake
couldn't actually bring himself to say when he fucks His Highness. "When His
Highness is, you know, on the bottom? I'd give anything to be the fairy at
those times."
"Oh. Wow." Ryder let this new information about his partner sink in. "How do
you never let it show?"
"Years of practice," Jake said, shrugging. He was older than Ryder and had been
working for the prince for a lot longer. "Plus, like I said, not being in love
with him."
Ryder didn't bother to deny it this time.
The guy quieted down finally, thank god. The hallway was silent for several
minutes until the door opened. The prince looked as handsome as ever, and
completely put together. A little more relaxed-looking than earlier maybe, but
nothing anyone would be able to put their finger on. The apprentice, on the
other hand, looked completely wrecked. His face was flushed and damp, his hair
was disheveled, and he had missed a button on his shirt. Lucky bastard.
"Ryder. Find Jeremiah a car and a driver."
"Yes, Your Highness." Ryder started down the hall, gesturing for Jeremiah to
follow him.
Sam stood in the hall and watched the two of them leave. After they'd turned a
corner he asked Jake, "Do you think he's okay?"
"Ryder?"
"No, the guy. Jeremiah. Do you think he was crying? I mean, not just in the
screaming sense, which obviously he was..."
"Not that I noticed, Your Highness."
But Sam was pretty sure...when he looked at Jeremiah afterward, at his face, it
seemed like there were tears. It could have just been sweat, but...well, he
hoped he hadn't hurt him. Jeremiah did say it wasn't his first time, Sam was
sure of that, and he never asked Sam to be gentler. Still, though. Sam was a
little worried.
Jeremiah followed the guard down a back staircase. He was glad they weren't
side-by-side, because Jeremiah could feel himself blushing. It had seemed
really hot to him at the time, knowing that the two guards knew exactly what
was going on. Now, though, it was somehow kind of mortifying. Not that he was
ashamed or anything, obviously, but...he sort of wished he hadn't been quite so
loud about it.
Not that he necessarily would have been able to help it if he'd tried,
especially at the end. It was very, very...intense...at the end. He was pretty
fucking sore now, actually.
He was glad, when they started walking, that the guard wasn't talking to him.
But it was a long way to wherever the cars were, and the longer they walked in
silence, the more awkward Jeremiah felt. He knew it was probably better to just
keep his mouth shut, but he found himself blurting out, "So, does he always—"
"My job is simple," Ryder cut him off. "Sometimes I see everything, and
sometimes I see nothing. What I never do is gossip about what I have or have
not seen."
"Oh, but I just meant—"
"It's fine."
They walked a few more steps in silence before Jeremiah spoke again. "It's
just, you'll think I'm insane, but I think I'm sort of in love with him."
Ryder didn't think it was insane at all. What he did think would be insane,
though, would be him allowing this conversation to continue. Looking straight
ahead, he asked, "What address would you like the driver to take you to?"
.
"You're cute," the middle-aged Uber driver said when he took off down Blaine's
street. "What's your name?"
Blaine tried to answer. It wasn't that he was deliberately trying to disobey
Kurt's rule against saying who he was, but it didn't even occur to him that the
rule applied to the Uber driver. Apparently it did, though, because he
physically couldn't get his mouth to form the word Blaine. "Uh, call me
Darren."
"Nice to meet you, Darren. I'm Sandy."
"Nice to meet you."
"So Kurt's great, right?" Sandy asked.
"Yeah! He got me an invitation to the ball! And he's paying for my ride with
you."
"Yes, but that's not what I meant. I meant sexually."
"Oh." Blaine frowned to himself. "You've, uh...you've had sex with Kurt?"
"Not for a long, long time. His preference is for young men," Sandy said,
sighing. Then he leered in the rearview mirror and added, "Of course, so is
mine."
Blaine wondered how old Kurt could have been when they had sex, if Sandy could
have been considered young at the time. He found thinking about that preferable
to thinking about the weird way Sandy kept looking at him. The weird way Sandy
kept looking at him was something he decided to ignore.
So he wasn't really looking into the front seat at all until the car jerked to
the left and startled him. He saw Sandy grab onto the steering wheel, which
meant he had apparently let go of it. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Fine, fine," Sandy said distractedly. "I used to be a lot better at rolling a
joint while driving."
"What!?"
Sandy held up the joint and a lighter. "You want the first hit? On the house."
"No!" Blaine said. "You're not going to smoke that while you're driving, are
you?"
"Relax," Sandy said, just before he lit the joint and inhaled deeply.
While Sandy held in the smoke, Blaine looked around, assessing his situation.
They were on the highway already, so it wasn't like he could just get out.
Maybe if he asked nicely... "I really wish you wouldn't..."
Sandy let out a cloud of smoke in a huff. "I drive better when I'm high," he
insisted. "Besides, it would be impossible for me to crash now. I'm working
under one of Kurt's charms."
"One of Kurt's charms?"
Sandy stared at Blaine in the mirror. Blaine was just about to beg him to
please look at the road when Sandy did so on his own. But then he glanced back
quickly in the mirror and said, "You must know about Kurt. I mean, mustn't you?
I assumed you're one of his fairy godsons too...or else...why would he..."
"Too? You've met other fairy godsons of Kurt's?"
Sandy started giggling then. "Fairy godsons! That doesn't even make any sense!
Because we're not the fairies, he is. But you knew what I meant, right? Or did
you? Did what I say even make any sense?"
"Yeah, yeah, I knew what you meant," Blaine assured him. "But I mean...you're
his fairy godson? But...Oh! He must not age, right?"
"Right. Lucky bastard. Heh, that's a funny expression. I don't know if fairies
even have parents, much less if fairy society expects them to be married before
having babies. I doubt it. I mean, given Kurt's attitudes toward sex. Though of
course he's a gay fairy, so..."
"So has he helped you much?"
"He fucked me when I needed to get laid. Again, this was years ago, but...And
I'm a bottom, in case you're interested."
Blaine had no response to this.
Sandy studied him in the mirror again. "No? Not interested? Ah well, I guess
you're a bottom too. That's okay, we're just not compatible."
Again, Blaine had no response. But Sandy kept looking at him in the mirror, so
he felt like he had to say something. "So...has he helped you in other ways?"
"Sure. He got me this job with Uber after I got fired for supposedly sexually
harassing a student, which obviously was bullshit."
"Oh." Somehow Blaine wasn't entirely convinced that the charges were bullshit.
"And he sends business my way, like you. And he tips well, though why not?
Money to him is like nothing."
"Sure. Still, it's nice."
"Yeah. Because money to me isn't nothing."
"Right."
"It's definitely something. It's, like, literally the opposite of nothing."
"Yeah, you need money to live," Blaine agreed.
"To live! Exactly! Oh, and that's another thing! The charm, so I don't crash!"
"That's very nice too," Blaine agreed, sincerely grateful for the charm at the
moment.
"Though now that I think about it," Sandy said, "that may just work for when
I'm driving Kurt around."
"Oh, fuck," Blaine muttered to himself, checking that his seatbelt was on
tight.
But they made it safely to the palace. Sandy giggled a lot and blabbered on and
on, but he didn't actually do anything terrifying with the car. So maybe the
charm did work after all. Or maybe they were just lucky.
The line to get inside was kind of long, but it kept moving. Blaine didn't
mind, anyway; he was just excited to be there.
At some point he noticed that the two women in front of him in line were
holding hands. And he was...okay, he was kind of shocked. Like in a good way,
but he just couldn't believe that they'd be doing it right out in open, at the
palace of all places. He didn't realize he was staring until the brunette one
snapped at him, "Take a picture, it'll last longer!"
Blaine felt himself blush, which he hoped the mask was making not too obvious.
"I'm sorry!" he said. "I'm not...I actually think it's great! I was just
surprised because...I mean, isn't the royal family pretty conservative?"
The two women exchanged surprised glances and then burst out laughing. The
blonde one said, "You've never met them, have you?"
"You have?"
"Sure. Princess Quinn came to our wedding."
"Seriously!?"
"Let me guess," the brunette said, "you only know about them from TV and
magazines."
"And the internet," Blaine added weakly.
"It's actually the media that's conservative, and so they portray the royals
that way too," the brunette said. "Actually they're pretty open-minded."
"And super nice," the blonde added.
"Well...Princess Quinn can be kind of a bitch sometimes," the brunette said.
Blaine actually gasped out loud in shock.
The brunette laughed. "Hey, I can say it. I went to boarding school with her
for four years."
"Don't say it like that, Santana. She was your best friend besides me."
"And my worst enemy." Santana saw the pouty look her wife was giving her and
said, "But, no, you're right, Brittany. Anything bad between us, that was all
back in high school."
Brittany and Santana talked to each other for a while then, and Blaine took a
step back so as not to eavesdrop or anything. But when they were almost to the
door, he noticed their conversation had lulled, and he decided to take his last
chance to ask what he was dying to know: "Do you know Prince Samuel too?"
Brittany looked startled for a second, like she'd forgotten that they'd been
talking earlier or that he was even there. But her confusion passed quickly and
she answered, "A little. He came to visit Princess Quinn at school a couple
times, but he was a lot younger than us then."
Santana added, "Of course, he still is younger than us."
"Is he?" Brittany asked. "But he's not a little kid now. He's totally hot. Now
I'd do him...I mean, if I wasn't married to you."
And then Santana said something to Brittany, and Blaine almost thought it
sounded like, "And if he wasn't gay."
"What?" he asked. But Brittany and Santana were at the head of the line then,
and just as he was asking this they were being taken inside to get checked out
by palace security. He tried again, desperately yelling, "What? WHAT!?" even
after he knew there was no chance they could hear him anymore.
He only stopped yelling when a guard summoned him inside. "Invitation?"
Blaine handed it over distractedly, gaping at the décor. It was just like all
the pictures he'd seen—this very hall being (according to his high school
textbook) one of the premiere examples of the Dwightian style, named after King
Dwight I and similar to Rococo but much more over-the-top. But in person it was
so much more impressive than the pictures let on!
Karofsky frowned at the invitation this wide-eyed kid had just handed him. It
looked legit—it had the tell-tale colored fibers in the paper and the royal
watermark in the right place—but it didn't have a name on it. He wasn't sure
what was going on, but he was sure he was going to need back-up, so he
discreetly sent a message to Azimio, another guard. Not wanting to alert the
apparent intruder that he knew anything was up, he casually asked, "ID?"
"Excuse me?" Blaine asked when he realized the guard was talking to him.
"I asked to see your ID, please."
"Oh, but...I don't have it."
"Mm-hmm. Would you remove your mask for me, please, sir?"
"No, but...I can't! It's a masked ball, right?"
"Yes, of course, sir. Once you're inside. Obviously we can't let people into
the palace without knowing who they are."
"But...I didn't know!"
Another guard, even bigger than the first (whose size Blaine hadn't really
noticed until this moment) showed up, and the two exchanged a glance. The first
one made a signal to the second, who looked at Blaine and said, "Would you come
with me, sir?"
"Kurt! Kuuurt!" Blaine yelled as he was being whisked away down a concealed
stairway.
Kurt was in his favorite fairy wine bar, trying to relax with a well-earned
glass of Sauvignon blanc, when he heard Blaine's cries. Honestly, this boy was
getting to be so much trouble. He turned to his friend Mercedes, sighed, and
said, "A godmother's work is never done" as he prepared to look into whatever
the big emergency was.
"You're off the clock, Kurt," Mercedes told him. "Sometimes we just have to
step back and let our wards figure things out for themselves. It's good for
them." She signaled the bartender for another couple glasses of wine.
But Kurt had already checked and realized Blaine's current predicament was
entirely his fault. Not that he would admit this to Mercedes, of course. He
stood and said, "I know. I should. But I have a soft spot for this one."
"Soft spot?" Mercedes asked. "Or hard-on?"
"You know me too well. I'll be back in a jiff."
He appeared not in the room Blaine was being held in but in the hallway outside
the prince's dressing room where Jake was standing guard. "I need a favor," he
announced.
Jake, completely unfazed by Kurt's sudden appearance, didn't turn to look at
him. He did, however, let a half-smile form on his lips. Kurt had asked for
favors a couple times in the past, never without offering something in return.
"What can I help you with?"
"First I want to point out that this is all your boss's own fault."
This did surprise Jake. He didn't know what Kurt was talking about, but how he
could be there because of something that was his boss's fault he really had no
idea. "What did she do?" he asked.
"She?" Kurt asked. Then he realized Jake was thinking of the head of palace
security. "No, not that boss. Sam."
"Oh, that boss." This surprised Jake much less. He knew the prince and his
fairy godmother were arguing.
Kurt explained the problem, pointing out several times that it was Sam who
insisted on not knowing who Kurt's godson was.
"So you'd like me to do what?" Jake asked at the conclusion of Kurt's story.
"Vouch for him, obviously. Get him into the ball."
Jake considered the request. "Can you promise me he won't hurt the prince or
anyone else?" He knew Kurt was absolutely bound to his word—it was the reason
he couldn't just let the godson remove his mask and show his ID.
"I promise my godson won't physically harm anyone," Kurt replied.
"Really? You have to specify physically? Like, what, he's going to call people
rude names or something and hurt their feelings?"
"Probably he won't do that; he's very polite. But I can't guarantee that Sam
won't fall in love and get his heart broken."
Jake just shook his head, but he let it go. "And you're offering the same thing
you've offered for my help in the past?"
"Of course, Tripod," Kurt said, smiling.
Jake smirked a little at Kurt's nickname for him. "Okay. If I can get away when
Ryder gets back."
"I'll be waiting in the linen room."
Kurt hated waiting, especially when it meant missing out on wine and gossip.
But, well...Jake was just as tasty as any wine. Plus, of course, Blaine needed
his help, yada yada yada. So he made himself comfortable on a pile of royal
linens and waited.
And it wasn't actually that long before Jake slipped in, announcing, "I can
only be gone a couple minutes."
"Like it ever takes me longer than that with you."
"I can last as long as I want to," Jake said. He just never saw any reason to
hold back with Kurt.
"I'm sure you can," Kurt said. "And if I ever ask you for a big enough favor to
let you fuck me for, I'll expect you to."
"You'd like me fucking you as much as I would like doing it—hell, you'd like it
more. So don't try to get any favors out of it if you ever do offer."
Kurt had to admit that Jake had a point—but only to himself, obviously. To Jake
he said, "If you're in such a hurry, why are your pants still on?"
This time it was Jake who had to admit that Kurt had a point, and he pushed his
pants and underwear down to mid-thigh. He wasn't totally hard yet, but he knew
Kurt could get him there quickly enough.
Kurt licked his lips at the sight of Jake's semi-erect cock. It was among his
current favorites—especially with Sam holding out on him now, the ingrate. It
was probably the biggest, for one thing: bigger than Sam's, bigger than Kurt's
own, even. And size wasn't everything, but it wasn't nothing. It really was a
shame that he wasn't going to be able to take his time to properly enjoy
blowing his favorite (yes, still his favorite, despite Sam's recent bout of
brattiness) godson's guard.
But Jake was impatient—even when they'd done this in the past without being
under the same time constraints—and not just impatient but bossy. Aggressive,
even. Kurt wouldn't allow most guys to push him to his knees and shove their
dicks in his mouth, but he did let Jake get away with it. It was because he
owed Jake...or that was his official explanation, anyway, not that Jake ever
asked (or anyone else ever knew). But the truth was he loved it. The truth was
he could have easily thought of another way to get Blaine inside the palace,
but he sometimes craved this kind of treatment from a hot, mostly straight guy
with a big dick who would just use him to get off. And Tripod fit that
description better than anyone he could think of.
Jake held the back of Kurt's head in place, fingers tightly gripping his
hair...probably pulling it pretty hard in fact, but Kurt wasn't complaining.
"Suck it," he ordered. Pushing in steadily he added, "Fucking gag on it."
Kurt was actually very practiced at taking big dicks down his throat without
gagging, but he pretended to choke anyway...not to humor Jake so much as
because he himself found it hot. He gagged every time Jake shoved that glorious
cock down his throat, until Jake got worried about the noise and told him to
shut the fuck up. It was easy enough to shut up the gagging, but the
moans—which were not fake—were somewhat harder to control. Luckily the giant
dick in his mouth was stifling some of the noise.
Jake fucked Kurt's mouth like he hadn't gotten laid in ages and might never
again. In fact it wasn't that far from the truth—he was working most of the
time and never really got to even meet anyone, after all. And even when he did
get out, he had never met anyone who gave head like Kurt. The guy was a champ,
taking Jake's cock all the way down his throat and acting like he loved every
second of it...which Jake didn't actually doubt. If he thought regular gay men
were all like this, he might switch to Team Homo full-time.
True to his word, Kurt managed to bring Jake to the brink of orgasm in a
remarkably brief amount of time. Despite his earlier assertion that he could if
he wanted to, Jake wasn't at all sure that he could have lasted very long if
he'd tried. Not that this bothered him when Kurt gave one last super-suctiony
suck and he felt himself starting to unload right down his pretty little fairy
throat.
Kurt remembered that Jake tended to come a lot, so he tightened the seal of his
mouth so as not to let any escape. It probably wasn't necessary—Jake was huge,
so it wasn't like there was really any extra room—but Kurt just liked to be
sure because he was as big a slut for jizz as he was for cock. (Not that Kurt
considered sluttiness a bad thing in the least. People who did—and, yes, it was
mostly people—were so weird.)
There was as much of it as he expected, and Kurt groaned as spurt after spurt
of come nailed the back of his throat. Each blast made his own dick get harder
and harder. He needed badly to get off, but he thought that would be "too gay"
for Jake, so he used all his restraint to not touch himself and just enjoy the
hot, creamy load sliding down his throat.
Jake, meanwhile, was shaking from the force of his release. It really had been
a while, he guessed. Plus, Kurt just had these skills...
When he finally stopped trembling and caught his breath, he saw that his
clothes were fully in place again. It was a good thing, too: he was way too
relaxed now to feel like doing anything except maybe take a nice nap.
"Off you go then," Kurt said, just as Jake was letting his eyelids droop. "The
boy in question will answer to the name Darren."
Oh, shit. Right. He had a full night ahead of him, starting with rescuing this
not-really-Darren. He reluctantly left the linen room on not-too-steady legs.
As soon as he closed the door behind him, he heard what sounded like Kurt
groaning again.
***** Sammy Is in Love *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
When another big, muscly dude in evening wear entered his holding room, Blaine
was afraid it was another guard there to interrogate him (or worse), and he
shrank back into the corner. The guy just smirked at him, though, and said,
"Relax, Darren. I'm here to escort you inside. Don't ever say your fairy
godmother never helped you out."
Blaine blinked rapidly, trying to process what was going on. "Kurt?" he asked.
"You can change forms?"
This made the guy laugh. "I didn't say I am Kurt. He asked me to help you out."
"Oh! Thank you! You're another of his fairy godsons too?"
"No. I really don't have time to explain. Just follow me."
Blaine was only too happy to do so, and he sprang up out of his chair and
followed his rescuer. The one guard who had whisked him away was still standing
outside the door, but he just nodded at the guy Blaine was following.
Jake was leading Darren toward the ballroom when he got a call from Ryder.
"Where are you, man?" his partner asked frantically. "His Majesty is getting
impatient."
"Shit," Jake said. "I'll be right there." He changed directions and ran up the
nearest staircase, completely forgetting that Kurt's godson was still following
him.
It wasn't until he burst into the prince's dressing room, slightly out of
breath, and the prince looked past him and asked, "Who is this?" that he
remembered.
Shit! He wasn't supposed to bring the kid up here! But he had, and now all he
could think to say was, "Your Highness, may I present...Darren?"
Blaine froze completely. He may have stopped breathing, he wasn't sure. He
just, he couldn't believe he was actually standing in Prince Samuel's room.
With Prince Samuel! And, God, he was so handsome, way handsomer in person than
in any picture Blaine had ever seen, and he was giving him this smile that was,
like, kind of confused, but also just really warm and really genuine, and he
had no idea what he was supposed to do! What do you do when you meet the man of
your dreams, who happens to be the prince, face-to-face!?
You bow, duh! Blaine forced his muscles to move, and he bowed, just the way all
schoolchildren in the kingdom were taught just in case they should ever be
presented to royalty. "Your Highness," he somehow managed to say, "it's such an
honor."
Sam was intrigued. Why had Jake brought this guy up to his room? Who was he?
His eyes were gorgeous. As was—when he bowed—his ass. Not that Sam had the best
angle for viewing it, but good enough. When Darren stood upright again Sam took
his hand and shook it, for longer than he normally found himself shaking
strangers' hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Darren. Are you a friend of
Jake's?"
"Not exactly," Blaine said.
Sam shot a questioning look at Jake, but then his gaze was drawn back to
Darren. He had nice lips too. If only Sam could see more of his face. "Take off
your mask," he told him.
Blaine felt his heartbeat quicken. "I...can't, Your Highness."
Sam grinned. "Sure you can. The mask thing was my rule, so I can tell you to
take it off." He barely remembered why he'd come up with that stupid rule in
the first place.
Blaine, hoping it actually worked that way, untied his mask and gave it a
gentle, experimental tug. Nope. It was definitely attached. "I'm sorry, Your
Highness. I would never deliberately disobey an order from you, but it's...it's
stuck."
"Here, I'll help," Sam said, and he grabbed both sides of the mask and yanked
on it.
Blaine screamed. It was as if someone had just tried to rip the skin off his
face. Unsuccessfully, as it turned out, but Blaine wasn't sure of that yet. He
dropped to the floor, clutching his face and crying.
Sam dropped to the floor with him and pulled Darren into his arms. "I'm sorry!"
he said. "I'm so sorry!" He rocked back and forth with him until the crying
subsided. "I had no idea," he explained. "Did you superglue it to your skin or
something?"
Blaine tried to pull himself together. He couldn't believe he was making such
an ass of himself in front of Prince Samuel! Crying like a baby! The fact that
the prince was being so sweet about it just made him want to die even more.
"I'm so sorry, Your Highness. I..." He trailed off as he noticed Jake leaning
down to whisper something to the prince and the prince's eyes getting really
big.
"Is your name really Darren?" Prince Samuel demanded.
"Um...no, Your Highness."
"What is your name really?"
"I can't say," Blaine answered in a near-whisper.
Prince Samuel looked really angry then. But then his expression changed
suddenly and he laughed. "Fucking Kurt!" he exclaimed, still chuckling.
"You know him?"
"Yeah, I know him. He's my fairy godmother too." Sam extended his hand to
stroke "Darren's" cheek, but then, realizing that might hurt the poor guy even
more, he gently touched his neck instead. "I really am sorry I hurt you. If I'd
realized Kurt did this I never..." Sam heard something in the hall that made
him stop talking. It sounded like...it was...his father. He jumped up and
ordered Ryder, "Hide him!"
Blaine felt himself being hauled to his feet and whisked away somewhere again.
This time it wasn't very far; the guard pushed him into a closet and slammed
the door behind him. He didn't know what was going on, but he tried to hold
himself very still and quiet.
He heard a door open outside and a loud, deep voice say, "What the hell are you
doing up here still?" The voice was so familiar-sounding, it was...holy crap,
it was the king's voice. One of like two people in the whole world who could
yell at Prince Samuel. Blaine did not want to hear Prince Samuel get yelled
at...especially if it was because of him!
"Father!" Prince Samuel said. "I was just on my way."
"You literally have a ballroom full of people waiting for you. Did you think I
was just messing around when I kept telling you over and over how important
this ball is?"
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Jake said. "It's my fault. I was detained and—"
"Jake, your loyalty to my son is admirable, but I can tell when you're covering
for him."
"No, really, Your Highness—"
"Is there a man in here?" the king asked suddenly. Blaine almost fainted. He
literally felt himself go light-headed, and probably the only thing that saved
him from actually fainting was the knowledge that his falling would make a
noise that would remove any doubt as to whether the prince was hiding someone.
"Father!" Sam objected, hoping his feigned indignation at the question was at
least slightly plausible.
Jake and Ryder both stood perfectly still, neither glancing at the door
concealing Darren nor making any move to put themselves between it and the
king.
"We can talk about this tomorrow. Right now just get your ass downstairs and
make your damned entrance already."
"Yes, Father."
Blaine heard people walking away and the door closing. He listened at the
closet door very quietly, even holding his breath for as long as he could. He
couldn't be positive that he'd heard all four people exit, but as he kept
hearing nothing from the dressing room, he was eventually satisfied that it was
almost certainly empty. Still, when he dared to open the closet door he did so
very, very slowly. He peered out cautiously and determined that he was, in
fact, alone.
Stepping out of the closet, he breathed a sigh of relief. But just the one
sigh. Because then he realized he might very well be stuck in this dressing
room for the whole night if no one remembered to come back for him. He wondered
what kind of trouble would he get in if he just started wandering around the
palace on his own. The guards—the scary ones—would surely remember him and be
less kind the second time he caused them trouble. On the other hand, what kind
of trouble would he get in if someone found him here in the prince's private
dressing room? Surely a maid or someone would come eventually. And even if no
one came until morning...oh, God, what if he was still here after sunrise? He
didn't think Kurt would really turn him into a pumpkin, but...well, what if he
did? Or something just as bad?
Quickly he stepped back into the closet. Not that it was his plan, exactly, to
just stay there all night, but...well, until he had a real plan, he thought he
was less likely to be discovered here than out in the main part of the dressing
room. As he was standing there in the dark, the thought occurred to him—the way
unrelated thoughts sometimes seemed to when he was trying to solve serious
problems—that he was actually surrounded, at this very moment, by clothes
Prince Samuel had worn on his actual body.
And he instantly forgot about everything else.
He felt around for and soon found a light switch, which he flicked on. The
closet was both deeper and wider than he'd been picturing it. He realized this
shouldn't have surprised him, as Prince Samuel was...well, he was a prince,
obviously. He certainly didn't have to do laundry every few days just to stay
in clean underwear!
Oh God! What if Prince Samuel's underwear was in here?
No, Blaine! he told himself. Do not go looking for the prince's underwear! That
would be super creepy and would probably get him sent to jail if he got caught.
And maybe it was because he had the underwear thought first—had the underwear
thought and rightly rejected it—but when Blaine recognized the soft blue
sweater that Prince Samuel had looked so adorable in on TV last week, it didn't
seem that inappropriate to walk over and touch it. Touch it and rub it against
his face (or as much of his face as wasn't covered with the mask). He inhaled
deeply and, oh God it smelled just like Prince Samuel did when he was holding
Blaine in his arms, and, Jesus Christ, Prince Samuel actually held Blaine in
his arms! The realization made him hyperventilate, and that was how Jake found
him: hyperventilating in the closet with his face buried in one of the prince's
sweaters.
He tried repeatedly to apologize for causing so much trouble, but Jake
brusquely told him not to worry about it as he ushered him...somewhere.
"Are you throwing me out?" Blaine asked.
"Hardly. His Highness specifically told me to instruct you not to leave the
ballroom until he finds you and dances with you."
"He really...Oh my God, he really...Wait, does he know I'm gay? People might
think—"
Jake snorted. "He knows you're Kurt's godson, so, yeah. He knows you're gay."
And that was when Blaine realized that, without any doubt, what he thought he
heard that Santana woman say was true! Prince Samuel was actually gay! He
wouldn't be Kurt's godson if he weren't. He was actually gay and he wanted to
dance with Blaine!
Jake left him at the entrance to the packed ballroom. Blaine strained to locate
Prince Samuel in the crowd but couldn't. He should have been the easiest person
to locate since he wasn't wearing a mask...or, at least, he hadn't been when
Blaine saw him. Maybe he was now. Still, only two other men would be wearing
the official regalia, and Blaine was sure he'd be able to differentiate Prince
Samuel from his father and brother-in-law even with masks. Anyway, there was a
big swarm of people in the far corner of the ballroom, so probably Prince
Samuel was in the middle of it.
Blaine decided to wait instead of swarming over there too. It was probably
useless to swarm, for one thing—the crowd was much too dense, and he would be
at the outer edge. And for another thing...Prince Samuel actually wanted to see
him again. He was actually planning to find Blaine, hard as that was to
believe.
Rachel, meanwhile, was swarming. The prince had looked right at her as he
walked past while making his entrance—she was sure of it. Or if not right at
her, then right above her head. It wasn't her fault she was so short! Anyway,
she had to reach the prince to remind him of the intimate connection they'd had
when their eyes almost met. But there were all these horrible wannabes and
poseurs in her way! And, totally unfairly, most of them were bigger than she
was. "Jesse, help!" she ordered.
Jesse wasn't really paying attention to his sister. He was too busy scoping out
all the chicks, trying to decide which one he most wanted to console after the
prince rejected her. But when Rachel asked for his help, he reluctantly put his
own mission on hold. Becoming brother-in-law to the prince was more important
than getting laid by a hot commoner or even minor noblewoman, after all. Though
if he managed to marry a noblewoman...But, no, brother-in-law to the prince was
still the main goal. So he took Rachel's hand and started helping her maneuver
through the throng.
The two of them got some dirty looks. And several Ow!s by people who got in the
way of Jesse's elbows. And, after some woman screamed just because he
"accidentally" stepped on her foot, they got the attention of one of the
guards, who appeared out of nowhere and placed a hand on each of their arms.
Rachel, fearing the alternative was both of them being asked to leave, gave the
guard a pleading look and said, "Please, can you help me? He grabbed me and he
won't leave me alone!"
"Rachel! How could you?"
Rachel just stared at him with a look of terror (and to think her acting
professor tried to give her a B once!) and even actual tears in her eyes as the
guard escorted her brother out of the ballroom.
When they were out of sight, she decided she'd better back off for the time
being. Although her acting skills were obviously superb, it was just possible
that the guards would be paying her extra scrutiny for a while. Retreating to a
quieter part of the ballroom, she carefully sized up the other guests who
weren't clamoring for the prince's attention.
The group consisted mostly of men, obviously, and of older, already-married
women. It wouldn't hurt to "network" a little, she thought...not because she
needed a contingency plan in case things didn't work out with her and Prince
Samuel or anything like that, but just because...well, because it never hurt.
What if she met someone who was a close, personal friend of the prince, for
example? That would make a great icebreaker when she finally got a chance at a
real conversation with him.
She approached several men who, from a distance, seemed to have potential, but
each of them soon proved to be a nobody. She was actually considering giving up
when...Oh, there was a man who was obviously wealthy, based on his impeccable
clothing. All the mens' evening wear looked basically the same to the untrained
eye, but Rachel could tell from how well this man's fit that it had obviously
been custom-tailored. And he was all alone, excellent! She walked over with a
big smile plastered on and extended her hand. "Good evening! I'm Rachel!"
The man was strangely still for a moment before he shook her hand. "Pleased to
meet you," he mumbled.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
Again there was that silence before he said, "Call me Darren."
"I'm happy to meet you, Darren." She smiled again and waited for him to say
something. When he didn't, she observed, "It's a lovely ball so far, don't you
think?"
"Lovely," he agreed.
"The whole mask idea lends just the right touch of whimsy," Rachel said. In
fact she hated the masks. They really put a damper on her networking attempts.
On the other hand, maybe she could use the forced anonymity to her advantage.
"Although..." she said thoughtfully, "...it's making it much harder for me to
remember where I recognize you from. You're...you're a duke, right? The Duke
of..."
"Stop pretending you know any dukes."
Rachel sputtered in disbelief. "What makes you think I don't know any dukes!?"
He hesitated for a moment before looking her up and down and declaring, "Your
dress. It screams, trying too hard.'"
The nerve! Her gown had cost her a fortune, and this...this nobody had the gall
to insult it!? Rachel spun on her heel to storm off but froze when she noticed:
"Prince Samuel is coming this way!"
"He is," Darren agreed.
Rachel looked at Darren again. He was smiling at the prince's approach, but he
seemed relatively calm about it. Relatively unsurprised. "Do you know him?" she
asked.
"Yes."
"Introduce me! Darren, you have to introduce me, it's so important!"
Prince Samuel was looking right into Blaine's eyes as he approached. Women were
trailing after him; people on all sides were trying to get his attention, but
he paid them no mind at all. He just walked straight up to Blaine, bowed, and
said, "There you are! May I have this dance?" Blaine took his hand and, vaguely
aware that Rachel was screaming at him but not caring at all, walked to the
dance floor with the prince.
"Do you waltz?" Prince Samuel asked as they walked. "Because I can have the
band play something else if you don't."
"No, I do, actually." He'd practiced waltzing quite a lot, as it happened. By
himself in his room, but he didn't doubt that he'd do fine with Prince Samuel
leading.
And he did do fine! Prince Samuel was just as amazing a dance partner as he had
always dreamed. The prince held him close and glided him around the floor
effortlessly. Honestly it was so much like his dreams that Blaine was afraid to
question whether he was actually awake.
Sam slowly became aware that people were looking at him in a way he wasn't used
to. He didn't want to be paying attention to anything or anyone other than the
man he was dancing with, but it was so odd that after a while he couldn't not
notice. He didn't even get what was going on at first, but eventually it dawned
on him that it was because he was dancing with a man.
He hadn't really even considered that he would get this reaction; he rarely
made any effort in his day-to-day life to hide his orientation, so he just
didn't think about the fact that most of the guests at the ball weren't people
close to him who already knew. When he noticed the looks on people's
faces...well, he didn't much care that his "secret" was out, but he did care
about how Darren would take the reaction. "How are you?" he asked.
Darren sighed and answered, "So wonderful."
Okay, good. He didn't care. Or possibly just hadn't noticed. In case it was the
latter, Sam thought he'd better talk, just to keep Darren's mind off...everyone
else. The problem was...Sam never had trouble making conversation, but now for
some reason he felt almost...flustered or tongue-tied or something. He managed
to come up with: "So...that woman you were talking to..."
Blaine frowned. He really didn't want to be reminded of Rachel right now, of
all people.
Sam noticed the frown and hastened to clarify, "I wasn't implying that you and
she..." Though what if they were a couple? What if Blaine was in the closet and
actually married to a woman? Except...no, Kurt said he was a virgin, so that
wasn't too likely.
Blaine wasn't sure whether Kurt had actually forbidden him from lying, but he
did know for sure that he was forbidden from giving clues about his identity,
and identifying his stepsister would be a pretty big clue. So he just said,
"She just walked up to me and started talking." He could have left it at that,
but he added the funny part (not that Prince Samuel would get the joke): "She
said she thought I was a duke."
"Are you?" Sam asked. "No, wait. Sorry. I know you're not allowed to give me
any hints."
"You know that?"
"I know Kurt really well."
Blaine wondered if that meant that Prince Samuel had had sex with Kurt. Then he
immediately chastised himself for even thinking such a thing about the prince.
Not that he never...Okay, yes, he had had many, many (many) sexual thoughts
about Prince Samuel (though not involving Kurt). But it just seemed wrong to
think about when he was actually in the prince's presence.
Though of course that just made it all the more difficult not to think
inappropriate thoughts. Because he wasn't just in the prince's presence, he was
in his arms. Again. And it was even more magical than the first time because he
wasn't also in horrible pain. And also...parts of their bodies that weren't as
innocent as arms were awfully close to each other.
"He makes me so mad sometimes," the prince said.
"Kurt?"
"Yeah. With his stupid rules. Like...I'd really like to get to know you."
Blaine's heart skipped. He had no idea what to say to that and was horrified to
find himself responding, in the worst approximation of a flirtatious tone that
had probably ever been attempted, "I bet you say that to all the guys."
Sam held him a little closer. "I don't, actually." He couldn't remember the
last guy—if there'd ever been one—that he wanted to get to know like he wanted
to get to know Darren, who wasn't even really Darren but whose real name Sam
wasn't even allowed to know! He let his nose brush against "Darren's" forehead
and added, "Just you."
.
King Dwight joined his wife in the balcony overlooking the ballroom. After
kissing her hand he asked, "May I get you anything, my dear?"
Queen Mary smiled at him and gestured at their son on the dance floor below.
"Sammy is in love."
"Darling, you promised you wouldn't get your hopes up. We both agreed that
that's not what's important about tonight, and—"
"Dwight. Just look at him."
The king, more to humor his wife than anything, turned to look. He spotted
their son on dance floor, and he was somewhat far away and the lighting was
low, but...but, yes, he was actually inclined to agree with the queen!
Extending his hand toward her, he said, "Darling, may I borrow your..." He
couldn't think of the word, but she knew what he wanted and handed him the
lorgnette. Holding it to his eyes he could see very clearly—without any doubt,
in fact—that, yes, Samuel was in love! Dwight knew, because his son looked
exactly the same way he himself had felt when he first met Mary. "I'll be
damned!" he muttered.
"Your Majesty...language!" his wife teased him.
"I apologize, Your Majesty," Dwight said, bowing. "But I never thought I'd see
the day!"
"And you realize, of course, what else this day is, don't you?"
"What else?"
"It's the day the prince has just outed himself to the entire kingdom."
"Oh, shit!"
It wasn't that the king wanted his son to stay in the closet forever. He just
wanted to control the coming-out story. And now his chances of doing that were
dwindling rapidly. "We have to make it clear that we don't disapprove," he
said. It was the least (and, at the moment, probably also the most) they could
do.
"So ask me to dance."
"I thought you wanted to wait until later for our first dance."
"I did. But if we dance next to the happy couple, and smile approvingly..."
"My darling, you're a genius."
"That's why you married me, isn't it?"
"That and your body," the king whispered in the queen's ear. Some things the
guards didn't need to overhear.
Sam saw his father approaching the dance floor and wondered if he was in
trouble. It wasn't really like the king to make a scene in public, but...
But then he saw his mother was there too, and she looked at him and smiled. And
then his father smiled at him. They started dancing with each other, and every
time they got close they smiled at him. His father even caught Darren's eye and
smiled at him, which made poor Darren freeze. "It's okay," Sam whispered in his
ear. "He likes you!"
"But I forgot to bow!" Darren whispered back.
Sam laughed. "You don't have to bow when you're dancing."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. Relax."
Blaine laughed. It just struck him as really hilarious that the prince was
telling him to relax. And yet...he did feel kind of oddly relaxed. Like nothing
bad could happen while they were dancing together. He even let himself rest his
head on Prince Samuel's shoulder as they spun around.
.
In another wing of the palace, Princess Beth was attending a private ball with
her five-year-old sister, Princess Matilda, and their nanny, Marley. Princess
Catherine wasn't invited because she was only two and already asleep.
Beth curtsied to Marley and asked, "May I have this dance?"
"I'd be delighted, Your Highness," Marley replied, taking Beth's arm and
walking with her to the "dance floor," which was really just a cleared-off area
of the playroom.
Beth enjoyed a pretend ball as much as any other little girl. But not when
there was a real one going on in her own house that she wasn't even invited to.
That was just completely unfair! But it was okay. That is, it wasn't okay at
all, but she had a plan. She just had to act like she was on board with the
"private ball" until...
"It's not fair!" Matilda announced. "I wanna go to the real ball!"
Beth walked over and put her hands on her sister's shoulders. "But, Matty,
we're not old enough for the real ball. Anyway, this fake one is just as fun."
She glanced at Marley to make sure she noticed how reasonable and mature she
was being. Sure enough, Marley gave her an approving nod. Matilda, on the other
hand, gave her a look of confusion and betrayal. Because of course Beth was the
one who'd been telling her all day how unfair it all was.
"Come on, Matilda. You can have the next dance, okay?" Marley said.
Beth took a step back. "You can have this one, in fact. I know it's pretty late
for you and you get grouchy when you're tired."
"I'm not tired and I'm not grouchy!" Matilda shouted.
"Well, you're raising your voice, and that tells me you are tired and grouchy,"
Marley said. "So now, would you like to use your indoor voice and dance with
us? Or would you like to yell and have bedtime now?"
"I'm not YELLING!" Matilda shrieked, tears rushing down her face. "You're so
UNFAIR! You both HATE me!"
Marley turned to Beth and said apologetically, "I guess it is a little late for
your sister. Can we have our dance in a few minutes when I get back?"
"Of course," Beth said, patting Marley's hand consolingly. "I guess she's just
having a rough night."
Marley lifted the crying princess up onto her hip and took her to her bedroom.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Beth made a run for it.
.
Prince Finn didn't like dancing. He especially didn't like ballroom dancing. He
wasn't great at it, which was a big part of why he didn't like it. But he'd had
lessons and he wasn't terrible anymore, and he knew it was expected. Required,
even. Prince Sam had to be the first of the royal family to dance, but then
Finn and Quinn were expected to go pretty soon after that. He guessed he'd
better see if Sam was dancing yet.
Yeah, there he was. Dancing with...huh, how about that. He was dancing with a
man.
Finn found his wife. "Ready to bite the bullet?" Princess Quinn teased him.
"Yeah," Finn said with a chuckle. "Just wondering, though...is this, like, a
coming-out ball in the literal sense? I mean...the modern sense?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Look at your brother," Finn said, nodding in Sam's direction.
Quinn looked. What she saw was surprising.
She'd seen her little brother with men a few times (and she knew there were a
lot more times that she hadn't accidentally intruded on), but never like this.
Never this publicly, for one thing, and never looking like he wanted more than
to get in the guy's pants.
Though it did look like he wanted to get in the guy's pants. Just not only
that.
She took her husband's hand and said, "Wow. Good for him."
"How long do you think they've been together?" Finn asked.
"A while, from the looks of it. I wonder why he never told the family."
"Maybe he's planning to dance with him all night, get everyone talking, and
then unmask him and propose at dawn."
Quinn laughed. "That sounds way too romantic for my brother."
"Maybe he's just never been romantic before because he never had...you know,
whoever that guy is before."
"You are a romantic," Quinn said, sighing. "You know, if you asked me to dance
right now I'd probably say yes." In a whisper she added, "I might even go home
with you."
.
Sue Sylvester observed the young princess elude not one but two guards charged
with patrolling the residential wing of the palace during the ball. Incompetent
slackers! She would fire them first thing in the morning. She would have fired
them on the spot if she could have risked being down two men with the palace
packed with strangers.
However, she did not apprehend the fugitive princess. She followed to make sure
she would be safe, but she admired the girl's cunning. Princess Beth reminded
her of a young Sue Sylvester. And there was no one Sue Sylvester admired more
than Sue Sylvester.
She trailed Princess Beth as far as the entrance to the ballroom, where she
knew Princess Quinn would take care of the little escape artist, and then
circled back to bawl out the negligent guards. Should she also bawl out the
nanny who let the escape happen in the first place? Even though the child care
staff didn't report to her in any way, it was tempting. It was always fun to
see Miss Marley Milquetoast cry. But, no, she had too much actual work to do
tonight. Oh, but tomorrow she could ask the king to let her present a security
seminar for all the child care staff. Heh, yes, torturing the ninny in front of
her coworkers would be even better than yelling at her in private.
Beth stopped short when she entered the ballroom, stunned. She'd been here
before, but never with it lit so prettily and fancy music playing and so many
people all dressed up. How dare they try to keep her away from this? This real
ball was clearly where she belonged.
She strode through the crowd, holding her head high. When she heard someone
say, "Look, it's Princess Beth!" she turned and nodded graciously. She marched
right onto the middle of the dance floor, where her Uncle Samuel was dancing
with a beautiful boy in a mask. By this point they seemed to be the only two
people nearby who weren't looking at her, so she tugged on her uncle's sleeve
to get his attention.
Startled out of the reverie he'd been in while dancing with Darren, Sam looked
down. "I thought you were having a private ball with Marley and your sisters,
sweetheart."
"There were no boys there, so Marley said I could come here for just a few
minutes."
"Did she."
Beth knew from her uncle's tone that he wasn't buying it. But she still thought
she could sweet talk him into letting her stay just a little while. "Please may
I have one dance with the handsomest man at the ball? Then I'll go straight to
bed."
Sam had a soft spot for his nieces. Beth was about the only person who he
couldn't be mad at for interrupting his dance with Darren. (He wouldn't have
been mad at Matilda or Catherine either, but they wouldn't have tried it.) And
he knew Quinn would be mad, but it was his ball, after all. He turned to
Darren. "I'm sorry. Would you excuse me for one dance?"
"Of course, Your Highness," Blaine said, taking a step back.
But Prince Samuel tightened his grip on his shoulder long enough to add,
"Please don't go away."
Blaine nodded and moved back only enough to give the prince and little princess
enough room to dance.
Prince Samuel bowed to his niece and asked, "May I have this dance?"
Princess Beth crossed her arms and shook her head. "Not you, Uncle Samuel! I
want to dance with the handsome man!" And she took Blaine's hand.
Blaine looked around, sure that the little girl was just trying to get him to
move out of her way or something. But when he finally looked down at her, she
was smiling up at him expectantly and kind of adorably. And then she curtsied
and asked, "May I have this dance?"
Blaine glanced at Prince Samuel to make sure it was all right before he bowed
and said, "I'd be delighted, Your Highness."
And then...Beth didn't actually know how to dance very well. That is, she could
dance, like to the radio, or just for fun. But she knew that this kind of
dancing, at a grown-up ball, had certain "steps" you were supposed to follow,
and she couldn't remember all the steps. It didn't matter with Marley, but it
seemed important now. She remembered the time she'd helped her father practice
his dancing, and he told her she didn't have to learn anything; she could just
stand on his feet. So that's what she did with her uncle's handsome friend.
Quinn and Finn hadn't seen Beth come in, but they'd gathered from the chatter
of the guests near them what was going on. Quinn rushed over to see her dancing
with Sam's new mystery man. Smiling to conceal her fury at her eldest daughter,
she stood next to her brother and said, "I'll kill her."
"You can't," Sam said. "People would notice, and infanticide is frowned upon."
"That's why I'm smiling." She knew she couldn't possibly interrupt until the
song was over. Not when everyone watching so clearly thought Princess Beth was
being all cute and charming. "Why are you smiling? As if I can't guess."
"Am I smiling?" Sam hadn't really noticed it, but of course he was smiling.
Because Darren really was the handsomest man at the ball, and now seeing him
dance with Beth in her poofy "ball gown" just...
Oh, shit.
Sam actually wanted to squee at the sight. He had never in his life wanted to
squee before. What the hell was happening to him?
Oh, who cared? Just look at how cute Darren was, dancing the little girl around
on his feet! A part of Sam suddenly wished it weren't impossible for him and
Darren to make their own babies together.
Oh, shit.
Seriously.
What the fuck was happening to him?
He might have worried about it longer, but Darren's dance with Beth was coming
to an end, which meant Sam got to have the handsomest man at the ball all to
himself again. He didn't exactly push his young niece out of his way,
but...well, if Quinn hadn't been there taking her hand and leading her away,
then who knows?
Quinn crouched down to speak to her daughter. Still smiling, because she knew
people were watching, she said, "You are in so much trouble, young lady."
"Marley said I could..." Beth started, but an icy look from her mother made her
decide to shut her mouth.
"Now, do you want to go to your room quietly? Or do you want to cause a scene
and find out how much more trouble you can be in?"
"Quietly, Mother," Beth squeaked.
"That's my girl," Quinn said, straightening up.
She gripped her daughter's hand tightly and was about to lead her out of the
ballroom herself, when saw something that made her think perhaps she'd better
stay here and have someone else take Beth. She'd send Finn, but he was such a
pushover he was with the girls: Beth would somehow manage to convince him that
she shouldn't be in trouble at all because...well, Quinn didn't know what
"reason" she'd come up with, only that Finn would buy it. She looked around for
guards and called over the first one she spotted.
"Jake, have one of your colleagues escort Princess Beth to her room," she said.
"Yes, Your Highness," Jake said, taking the girl's hand.
"If she gives you or them a hard time, I want to hear about it first thing in
the morning."
"Yes, Your Highness," he said. He gave Beth a stern look, but he couldn't help
but smile at her a little when he did it.
Quinn smiled and thanked him. She wondered...Jake wasn't exactly a pushover for
Beth—Quinn was confident that she would hear about if if her daughter tried
anything—but he was clearly very fond of her. Sometimes Quinn wondered if he
knew...
Not that this was the time to be thinking about ancient history. She turned her
attention back to Sam and his mystery man. She recognized the look on her
brother's face. It was the look he got when he not only wanted to get in a
guy's pants but was actually about to.
She walked right up to him but wasn't surprised when he didn't stop dancing to
talk to her. She didn't let that act of inconsiderateness stop her from cupping
her hand around his ear and warning him, "You need to cool it, Sam. Everybody
is watching you right now."
Sam frowned and looked around. His sister was right. Even though some other
people were dancing, almost everyone had at least one eye on him and Darren. He
probably should have been grateful to Quinn for pointing this out, but instead
he snapped at her, "I know that! Do you think I'm an idiot?"
He looked at Darren apologetically. "Sorry, that was rude of me. I
just...sisters, you know? I mean, do you? I guess you can't tell me."
"I'm sorry, Your Highness. I wish I could tell you everything."
"I know. Me too." He pulled him closer and said, "I guess we'll have to get to
know each other without talking too much."
Quinn heard the whole exchange, especially the part about getting to know each
other without talking. Clearly her warning wasn't going to do the trick. It
would serve her brother right if she just left him to his own devices. Luckily
for him, however, she actually did feel protective of him and was determined to
do something.
The best thing to do, she supposed, would be to forcefully break them up, to
cut in and insist that the mystery man dance with her.
That seemed too cruel, though. They really did look sweet together.
Instead she called over one of her own guards. "Shannon, I need you to gather
as many people as you can who are close friends of the family or who work here
at the palace and have them form a circle around Prince Samuel and his...dance
partner. They should act casual, like they're just dancing, but I want a
barrier to provide some privacy for my brother and..."
"His dance partner? Yes, Your Highness. Of course it's hard to tell who's who
with everyone wearing masks." Shannon had never been in favor of masks at the
ball. From a security standpoint it was a nightmare. Princess Quinn just gave
her a look, though, so she repeated, "Yes, Your Highness" and went off to do
the best she could.
Sam did wish he could know everything about "Darren." Where he lived, what his
interests were...his real name, for crying out loud! But at the same time,
after dancing with him for several songs (and during the breaks between the
songs), he really felt like he was getting to know him without talking much. He
was getting to know his scent: clean and fresh, a little bit spicy and a lot
sexy. He was getting to know a little of his feel: not nearly as much as he'd
like, but some, like the firmness of his shoulders, the stiffness of his hair.
He was getting to know his taste...
Actually he wasn't, but he desperately wanted to.
"I want to kiss you so bad," he whispered into Darren's ear. "Please tell me
you'd like me to."
All Blaine could manage in response was a stunned "Your Highness..."
"You don't want me to." Sam tried not to sound as crushed as he felt. "I'm
sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"I do want you to!"
"Oh, thank God," Prince Samuel said, and then he brushed his lips against
Blaine's. It was just a tiny brush of skin against skin, but it made Blaine
feel more alive than he'd ever felt.
And then it became more than a tiny brush, it became the prince's lips pressed
fully against his own. And the prince's lips parted and somehow Blaine's did
too—he didn't even have to tell them to, they just parted—and then the prince's
tongue was inside his mouth.
Blaine felt himself whimpering. He felt himself pressing back against the
prince. Not just his mouth against the prince's mouth, but his whole body
against the prince's whole body.
He knew, in the back of his head, that he shouldn't. He was being so
inappropriate, he would be thrown out of the ball...or worse. But he didn't
care, he only cared that his body was screaming out for more and more contact.
Specifically, yes, a certain part of his body. A part that he knew he
absolutely shouldn't allow to be anywhere near Prince Samuel, but it was so
hard and needy and the prince's thigh pressed against it felt so good...
Thank God Darren was letting Sam kiss him. Thank God he was as hard as Sam was.
Sam had really been worried that everything he was feeling was one-sided.
He had to get them out of this ballroom, somewhere private where they could do
more than kiss. His father would kill him for leaving all his guests, but he'd
kill him more for allowing things to progress any further in front of everyone.
(A third option—such as staying in the ballroom without letting things
progress—didn't even occur to Sam.) He just had to ask Darren to come with him.
He was pretty sure he'd say yes. He just had to move his mouth closer to
Darren's ear.
Oh, but Darren's neck smelled so good. Sam couldn't help but kiss him there.
And nibble a little. And suck until Darren moaned.
And Darren's moan was so beautiful. Hearing that moan, Sam couldn't help but
drop his hands onto Darren's ass and grind his crotch directly against
Darren's.
It all happened so fast. First the prince was doing something amazing to his
neck, and then his hands were on his butt, and then he felt the prince's cock
rub right up alongside his own, and it didn't matter that there were layers of
clothes in between them, it didn't matter that they were in a crowded ballroom
with hundreds of people probably watching them, all Blaine knew was that he
couldn't stop his hips from moving in response, his cock rubbing against Prince
Samuel's—only a few times, really, that's all it took—and he was clutching the
fabric of the prince's suit and gasping into his chest and he was coming, right
in his elegant evening wear, right in front of all those people, and, most
mortifyingly, right on the prince!
After his balls had emptied, it took a few moments for his head to clear and
the reality of what he'd just down to hit him. Even though he had just grossly
violated His Highness and deserved no sympathy or comfort from him, Blaine
buried his face in the prince's shoulder and wept.
"Oh God, what's wrong?" Sam tightened his grip around Darren, holding him in a
protective embrace. "What did I do? I'm so sorry!"
Darren was sobbing, and it was impossible to understand most of what he was
saying. Sam caught sorry several times, and crude and inexcusable, but it
wasn't until he caught the phrase all over Your Highness that he figured out
what had happened.
"Okay, honey, shh," he said softly into Darren's ear. "It's not a big deal. We
can get you cleaned up. It's okay." He wasn't really dancing with him anymore
so much as rocking back and forth. He kept doing that while repeating "It's
okay" until Darren's sobs died down.
Blaine wanted to believe it would be okay. He wanted to believe anything Prince
Samuel told him. He just didn't see how it could be okay. "That's so kind of
you, Your Highness, but I...I actually just..."
"Shh. I know what happened; it's not a big deal." He glanced down and saw the
mess was only visible on Darren's pants. "And it's not even on me."
"It's not? Thank God!" Blaine was able to believe that Prince Samuel really
wasn't disgusted by him. That helped a lot, but it didn't make it totally okay.
"But everyone must have seen," he said.
Sam was worried about that too, actually. But when he looked around, he saw
that, miraculously, no one was looking at them. He didn't know how it was
possible, but...wait, the people around them all looked familiar, even with the
masks. They mostly seemed to be palace employees, in fact, who were well
trained at being discreet. He couldn't believe their luck! "No one noticed," he
assured Darren. "Just look. No one is paying any attention to us."
Blaine found this hard to believe, to say the least. But he wanted to trust the
prince. And the prince had told him to look, so he looked.
And it was true! No one was looking at them. He couldn't believe he had doubted
Prince Samuel.
Sam felt Darren relax. Not totally, but a lot. "Follow me and we'll get you
cleaned up, okay?"
But then something occurred to Sam. As soon as they separated, the wet spot on
Darren's pants would be obvious. And they were going to have to walk past
people who weren't well trained at not noticing stuff. Fanning his face with
his hand, he said, "By the way, is it warm in here to you? I'm roasting.
Roasting. It's not just me, though, right? I mean, don't you feel hot too?"
This puzzled Blaine, because it really wasn't hot in the ballroom. That is, he
was warm from dancing close to the prince, and his face was hot from crying,
but the room itself, he was pretty sure, was comfortable. He wondered if Prince
Samuel was actually hot (as in temperature; in the other sense there was no
question) or if he was just trying to change the subject to help Blaine forget
about his humiliating accident. If that was it, it was about the sweetest thing
ever. In any case the last thing he felt like doing was contradicting the
prince, so he agreed. "I am a little warm, now that you mention it, Your
Highness."
"Yeah! Whoa! I'm gonna...I think we should take our jackets off. Because this
is just unbearable!" Sam removed his jacket and held it in front of himself so
that it concealed his crotch. He just hoped that Darren would mimic his action.
The way the prince removed his jacket and held it in front of himself so
deliberately, the way he was watching Blaine so carefully the whole time...it
struck Blaine as very strange. Until very suddenly he got it! The prince was
trying to help him cover up the stain on his pants—which Blaine hadn't even
thought about—without coming right out and mentioning it. He really was the
sweetest person ever! Blaine felt himself flush some more—more from gratitude
than embarrassment this time—and he removed his own jacket and held it in front
of himself the same way Prince Samuel was doing. "Thank you, Your Highness," he
whispered.
"Well, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," Sam said. He wanted to take
Darren's hand but couldn't because of the way they were both holding their
jackets. Instead he simply said, "Follow me," and led him through the crowd
toward a back exit. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Jake and Ryder
were following too, and he wished they didn't have to. He could order them not
to and they'd probably do what he said, but then they'd have to deal with Sue
if she found out. And Sam couldn't do that to them.
He led Darren back to his dressing room and told Jake and Ryder to wait in the
hall. They stood there impassively, one on either side of the door, just like
they did any time he ducked into a room with some guy and told them to wait
outside. He wanted to tell them that this wasn't like that, that Darren wasn't
just some guy that he was about to hook up with. He didn't know if he was even
going to, for one thing. He didn't know if Darren would want to now.
Inside, he rushed around trying to gather things he thought Darren could use: a
damp wash cloth, a towel, clean underwear, clean pants. "If you want to give me
your pants I can clean them for you. I mean, I don't have to look while you
change. If you don't want me to, I mean. If you want me to, then yeah, I'd
really, really like to look. But I don't want to creep you out."
"You could never creep me out, Your Highness," Darren said. He blushed, but he
started removing his stained pants.
Sam didn't look, though. That is, he did look, but not at the area under the
pants. He looked in Darren's eyes. And he said, as Darren stripped, "Do you
mind...calling me Sam?"
Blaine gulped. "For real, Your...Sam?"
"Thank you," Sam said. "That sounds so much better." He took a step closer,
holding out the wash cloth. "I could help you clean...not just your
clothes...if it wouldn't creep you out."
Blaine couldn't speak, so he shook his head. But then he realized that Pr-...
that Sam might think that meant he didn't want his help, so he took a deep
breath and concentrated on getting out the words: "It wouldn't creep me out."
And it didn't creep him out, of course it didn't. But it did maybe freak him
out a little. Because, like, no one had touched him there ever, and that it was
about to happen now, with the prince, who had asked him to call him Sam, and in
the middle of the most surreal night of his life—which was an understatement
because Blaine didn't have any other surreal nights to even compare this one
to...yeah, he was freaking out a little.
The prince stood very close to him and helped him out of his pants and
underwear. And then, still looking only in his eyes, he gently touched the
soft, warm cloth to Blaine's dick. It wasn't abrupt or sudden or anything—it
wasn't the sort of touch that should have made someone gasp and startle. But
Blaine gasped and startled.
"I really can let you do this yourself, if you'd prefer," Sam said softly.
"No! Please!"
"Okay." Sam kissed his forehead, right between his hairline and the upper edge
of the mask. "Would you like to lie down?"
"Yes!" Damn it, Blaine hoped that didn't sound too eager. Prince Samuel
probably wasn't even suggesting... But just in case he was suggesting something
more, then Blaine wanted to. Very, very much.
Sam looked around the room. There was only one place suitable for lying down,
and that was the chaise longue. But he couldn't lay Darren down where he'd just
fucked that apprentice, uh, Jeremiah, it seemed wrong. And so he took Darren by
the hand and led him where he never led anyone: through the connecting door
into his bedroom.
.
Downstairs in the ballroom, the prince's absence was not going unnoticed. King
Dwight walked up to his daughter and demanded, "Did your brother take that boy
somewhere for a 'quickie'?"
Quinn hoped it was going to be a quickie. But she had seen everything that
happened—that is, she had to piece together part of it, but between the
grinding and the sobbing that followed, it wasn't difficult to figure out—and
she had a feeling Sam and his mystery man were going to be gone for a while.
She answered, "I think...I think his friend was feeling ill. I think Sam is
tending to him."
The king didn't buy this explanation for a minute. He was about to say as much
when the queen jumped in, saying, "Oh my! Should we summon a nurse?"
"Oh no! I'm sure that's not necessary," Quinn said. "Or, if it is, then Sam
will call one."
The king was about to say something else when the queen started whispering in
his ear. While she was talking, the look of annoyance gradually vanished from
his face. When his wife was done, he cleared his throat and said, "Well,
obviously Samuel can't ignore a friend in need. But there are dozens and dozens
of young ladies here dying to dance with a prince. I hope you can prevail upon
Finn to..."
"Of course, Father."
.
Back upstairs Sam led Darren right up to the edge of the bed and pulled the
blankets back for him. He had no idea why he felt nervous as he watched Darren
take his shoes off and lie down on his back. God, he was gorgeous. He didn't
want to stare or anything—he knew Darren was way more nervous than he was, and
not just nervous but also a little shy, but...damn!
And anyway he had to look a little. If he was going to get Darren cleaned up,
he had to see where exactly the fluids had landed. There was some glistening in
Darren's thick patch of pubic hair. Some clinging, of course, stickily to the
head of his beautiful cock. He really wanted to lick it up, but he was good, he
only wiped it off with the cloth.
Blaine lay back, eyes closed, concentrating on not getting hard again while the
prince cleaned him up. It wasn't even really the prince's hand touching his
dick, he tried to tell himself, it was just a damp wash cloth. But telling
himself that did no good at all. He knew perfectly well that the prince's hand
was just on the other side of that cloth. Furthermore he knew that the prince
was sitting there on the bed with him, looking at him nearly naked.
"There," Sam announced. "All clean."
"Thank you." Blaine opened his eyes to see Sam looking into them.
"I guess I should go take care of your pants now. Unless..."
"Unless?"
"Well, I'd really rather stay here and kiss you again. But, I mean, I don't
want that stain to become permanent so..."
"The pants aren't really mine. They're Kurt's and he's taking them back, so...I
mean, I bet he has ways to deal with stains."
Sam smiled. "So...that's a yes to more kissing?"
Blaine nodded. "Definitely a yes."
Sam had no idea why he was so excited about just getting to kiss this guy.
Usually he'd be balls deep by now. Or...no, usually he would have already shot
his load by now and sent the guy on his way. So he didn't know why, but he was
definitely excited as he leaned over the half-naked masked man on his bed. He
tried to rein in his excitement a little so as not to overwhelm Darren. But no
sooner had their lips touched than Darren was clutching the back of his head,
pulling him in closer and harder.
.
Downstairs, Quinn was relaying the king's request to Finn.
"Wait, so your brother skipped out on his own ball to get laid, and that
somehow means I have to dance with all the women here?"
"He's in love, Finn."
"So what? I've been in love for years and I..." Finn wisely cut himself off
before saying, and I don't get laid a tenth as often as Sam does.
"Do this for me and I'll make it worth your while later," Quinn whispered in
his ear, and damned if that didn't get his interest.
He hated that it got his interest. He wished, God how he wished he could fuck
his own wife because she liked when he fucked her. Why did she have to dangle
it in front of him as a reward? It was so degrading. Sometimes he wished he
weren't so in love with her still.
He agreed to the dancing thing, though. What could he do? It wasn't like he
really had a choice; he was as subject to the king's wishes as anyone. More so,
in fact.
.
Upstairs, Sam was now fully on top of Blaine and trying to unbutton his shirt
while still kissing him. Blaine wanted nothing more than to get Sam's clothes
off too, but he wasn't sure if it was allowed or...well, what was the protocol
for making out with a prince when you're nearly naked and he's fully dressed?
They didn't teach that in civics class!
The prince didn't have any similar concerns, of course, and as soon as he got
Blaine's shirt unbuttoned he flung it open and started kissing his chest. He
was very thorough, his lips and tongue caressing every inch of exposed skin,
inching his way downward slowly. Blaine was a writhing, whimpering mess by the
time Sam flicked his tongue in his belly button, peered up at him, and asked,
"Can I keep going?"
"God, please, Your Highness!"
"Sam," Sam reminded him.
"Please, Sam!"
.
Rachel had seen Prince Samuel leave the ballroom with that rude, stuck-up
Darren guy. And she was pretty sure that the two of them had been dancing
together the whole time until then. All this led her to the conclusion that
Prince Samuel was actually a homosexual. She wasn't shocked, though. Well, she
was for about a minute, before she realized she could use this new information
to her advantage. True, she would prefer to have her husband madly in love with
her, but having him deeply in debt to her for keeping his secret could be a lot
more useful. And if she had "needs" that he was unable to fulfill, well...it
wouldn't be like he could stop her from getting them met elsewhere. Right down
the hall, for example, as Jesse had crudely but intriguingly suggested.
Of course, for any of it to work she still had to be introduced to him. And he
still wasn't back! What on earth could he and that condescending jerk be doing?
Surely not...Ew!
She stopped herself from thinking that way. Tolerance. She had to be tolerant
and open-minded if her newly forming plan was going to work. That and talk to
the prince. Or at least a prince, she thought as she saw Prince Finn ask some
commoner to dance.
.
Blaine moaned and bunched up some of the sheet in his fist. The prince—Sam—was
kissing him lower and lower, heading inexorably, it seemed, toward his cock.
Blaine had long since given up his attempt not to get hard again, and now he
just wanted...God, how he wanted Sam's mouth to reach its destination!
Finally, finally it did! Just the brush of his lips at first, and then a
teasing little lick. It was enough, though, to make Blaine whine and shudder.
It was enough to make him warn Sam, "I don't know if I can control myself to
avoid a repeat of...you know."
Sam peered up at him through now-mussed bangs and said, "You don't have to try
to control it."
"But—"
"There are no pants to stain, and there's no one around to see." Sam lovingly
stroked his dick and added, "If you want to come in my mouth, I'd really,
really love that."
Without giving Darren a chance to respond, Sam took his cock all the way in his
mouth. God, it felt so good, and it tasted so good. It throbbed in his mouth,
all hard and warm and vital.
Sam was pretty sure Darren had never had a blowjob before, and so he was trying
so hard not to rush. It was hard not to. He wasn't kidding when he told Darren
that he really wanted him to come in his mouth. And Sam wasn't, as a general
rule, a patient person.
But now he was trying. He licked hard but slowly. He stroked Darren's dick but
he didn't jerk it. He sucked gently at various spots on Darren's balls and
cock—gentlest of all when he had his lips wrapped around the head.
He was dying to do more, but he waited.
It was so much. It was so much and yet still somehow not quite enough and
Blaine almost couldn't stand it. He gasped and he moaned and he felt himself
rocking into Sam, into his mouth. "Please," he whined. "Please, please,
please."
That was what Sam was waiting for. He gripped Darren's cock tighter and started
to really suck. Darren responded by crying out, "Oh God!" and arching off the
bed, thrusting his dick right up into the back of Sam's throat before releasing
blast after blast of come.
Blaine was still gasping when it was over. Gasping to recover his breath and
gasping in disbelief at what he's just done. Had he really just ejaculated in
Prince Samuel's mouth? Had Prince Samuel really told him to do it? Or had he
just imagined it because he wanted it so badly?
But, no, he hadn't imagined it. Sam was over him now, kissing him (and Blaine
could taste his own come on Sam's mouth!) and saying sweet things to him and
calling him baby, and it was real. It was really real.
Chapter End Notes
     This chapter turned out to be outrageously long, so we cut it in two.
     Chapter 4 is basically done and we'll be putting it up in a couple
     days.
***** Yo tambien te amo *****
Jesse had been sitting in this big empty room, just him and a guard called
Karofsky, for what felt like forever. Karofsky had told him he was free to
leave the palace, but he couldn't because then Rachel would be stuck there with
no ride home.
The guard wasn't that bad, Jesse guessed. He was a little gruff. Didn't really
talk much. But he didn't tell Jesse not to talk, so Jesse did. He told him all
about Rachel selling him out. Karofsky didn't do anything helpful with this
knowledge, like let him go and kick her out of the ball instead, but at least
Jesse felt a little better after venting about her at some length. Enough
length, in fact, that his voice was kind of tired now.
He still didn't feel like just sitting there, though, and Karofsky had
confiscated his phone so he couldn't even entertain himself with apps or
anything. "So tell me about you," he tried.
"I'm a guard at the palace."
"Uh-huh. And?"
"And that's all you need to know," Karofsky said. He really wished this guy
would shut the hell up. Or, better yet, leave.
"Guard, huh? What kind of training do you need for that? Not that I'm
interested. I'm about to graduate from the conservatory so obviously I already
have lots of career options. There's this showcase coming up, in fact, that—"
"Do you wanna play checkers?" Karofsky asked.
"Oh, um, sure. Okay." Jesse hadn't played checkers since he was a kid. It
wasn't the most intellectually challenging game or anything, but this Karofsky
guy was just a guard, after all. And maybe if Jesse could throw a game or two
without being too obvious about it, it would put the guard in a good enough
mood to let him go.
But then...Jesse kept losing without actually trying to.
This kid was the worst checkers player Karofksy had ever seen...and that
included little Princess Beth. (But, to be fair, he might be better than
Princess Matilda.) He'd only even suggested checkers because the only other
game in the detention room was chess, and he was afraid that might go on too
long. He saw now that probably wouldn't have been a problem. The kid losing his
mind might have been a problem, though, if his reaction to losing game after
game of checkers was any indication. When he flung the whole board and all the
pieces across the room, Karofsky stood quietly. "You're going to have to pick
that up now, sir."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jesse yelled. "How do you even cheat at
checkers?"
"Sir, if you don't pick up all these pieces and put them back in the box right
now, our interaction is going to become a lot less cordial."
Jesse looked up at the much-bigger-than-him guard who was suddenly looming over
him. He started picking up the pieces, because who knew what else the
motherfucking cheater might stoop to? "I hope you know," he felt obliged to
point out, "that I'm only humoring you so you don't go all Neanderthal and get
violent over something as silly as a little game."
Karofsky didn't respond, he just kept watching.
"I mean, I, at least am a civilized person. I wouldn't normally have thrown
things, but...I mean, there are only so many provocations even the most
civilized of us can endure in one evening."
"Like I told you before, you're free to leave the palace."
"You'd like me to leave my sister stranded here, wouldn't you?"
"This is the same sister who's responsible for you being removed from the
ballroom, right?"
"Yeah," Jesse said bitterly. "Yeah! Would she wait around here for me if our
roles were reversed?"
"I don't know," Karofsky answered. "Would she?"
"Hell no! You know what? Fuck her! I am going to leave."
Karofsky resisted the urge to cheer. He merely said, "That's your right. I'll
provide you with an escort just as soon as you're done cleaning up this mess."
.
Sam covered Blaine's neck with kisses before asking, "How do you feel?"
"God," Blaine sputtered. So good he had no idea how to put it into words. It
wasn't like he'd never had an orgasm before, obviously, but he'd never had one
before that left him feeling so...so good and weightless and and just happy all
over. He wished he could explain it somehow, but all he managed was a weak
smile and a breathy, "Sam."
Sam was happy too. He was happy to see Darren looking so content. But he
himself was far from being content. He needed so much more Darren.
But he didn't want to push. Darren really did look content right now, and Sam
didn't want to take more than he was prepared to give. But he couldn't help but
hope...he couldn't help but ask: "Can I keep going? Can I make love to you?"
Darren peered up at him and said, "Of course."
"But only if you want me to," Sam said. "Don't say yes just because I'm a
prince or whatever."
"No, not just because you're a prince," Darren told him. "Because you're Sam
and you're the most amazing person I've ever met and that was incredible and I
don't ever want it to stop and so of course I want you to."
Sam felt a huge grin spread across his face before he leaned down and captured
Darren's mouth in a hungry kiss. It was kind of hard to remember all the stuff
he'd been telling himself about going slowly and making Darren's first time
good for him when he needed him now so badly.
He was reminded, though. He wasn't thinking about Darren's probable extra
sensitivity and ground against him hard while kissing him, making the poor guy
jolt and hiss. "Sorry! Sorry!"
"It's okay. That was just really intense."
Of course it was. Of course it was too intense. Sam couldn't let himself not
think of these things. He quickly hopped up off the bed.
"No, please don't leave!"
"I'll be right back," Sam promised. "I just need to get the oil."
He sprinted into the dressing room and returned as fast as he could, without
his clothes but with the jar of coconut oil. The sight of Darren sprawled out
on his bed took his breath away. But then Darren sat up and asked, "I'm sorry,
did you say oil?"
"Yeah. See, we need a lubricant, or else—"
"No, I know about that," Blaine said. He knew a lot about gay sex, at least a
lot of what you could read online about it. Which meant that he also knew
that..."But, um, I thought oil made condoms not work?"
"Oh, that!" Sam said. He hardly ever even thought about condoms, since
surprisingly few guys ever mentioned them. "No, we don't need condoms."
"But I mean..." The last thing Blaine wanted to do was argue with Prince
Samuel. It was just that he'd always told himself that when he had sex with
someone, one, it would be for more than just lust, and two, that he would be
responsible about it.
"Kurt made me immune to STDs. So unless you can somehow get pregnant..."
"Really?" Blaine asked. "I mean, not that I don't trust you, but..."
"But you don't trust Kurt?"
"Well..." Blaine thought it was best to not answer that out loud.
"How long have you known Kurt?"
"Like a week."
"Oh, wow. You're way smarter than I was. It took me a long time to figure out
not to trust him completely. I still trust him too much, probably. But here's
the thing. He might mislead you and he might even trick you, but he will never,
ever actually lie. And so when he flat-out says something like, 'This will make
you immune to STDs,' which he did say to me, you know it's the truth."
Blaine thought about it. He wanted Sam really badly, and he didn't want to
screw this up. Also, he really did trust him. Which maybe was influenced by how
badly he wanted him, but...But, no, what he'd just said about Kurt actually did
fit with what Blaine already knew, so... "Okay."
"Okay?" Sam asked. It seemed like Darren was still uncertain. "No, you know
what? Jake or Ryder might have some condoms. Or they could get some. Let me
just ask them." He turned toward the door.
"Sam. I said okay and I meant it. I trust you."
.
"So where were you earlier?" Ryder asked. He knew Sue was making the rounds
tonight and he'd be in trouble if she found him chatting with Jake, but,
well...standing silently in the hall was getting old. This was going on longer
than usual, and he really didn't want to think about what His Highness was
doing in his dressing room with that guy. That is, he knew what His Highness
was doing but...but, well, actually he didn't. It was uncharacteristically
quiet, for one thing. But even more importantly, Ryder didn't want to think
about how different the prince was with this guy than with all the others. The
dancing! The kissing, in front of everyone! Not that many outsiders saw
it—Shannon had seen to that, acting on orders from Princess Quinn—but Prince
Samuel didn't know about that.
It was bad enough when His Highness was just fucking some guy. But this
was...So, it wasn't like Ryder was under any illusions that the prince was
going to suddenly going to fall in love with him. But as long as the prince
just wasn't the falling-in-love type, it wasn't so bad. That is, it was bad.
But this, if it turned out to be what it seemed like, had the potential to
become unbearably bad.
"Earlier when?" Jake asked.
"What do you mean when? When I had to call you because you were late for His
Highness's entrance!"
"Oh that. I was, um..." He looked up and down the hall. "You can keep this to
yourself, right?"
"Of course."
"I was getting blown."
"Damn!" Ryder immediately thought of the little tidbit Jake had shared with him
earlier in the day, and he couldn't help but jokingly ask, "By a guy?"
Jake stared straight ahead, silent.
"Holy shit, Jake! Was it..." Ryder was just about to ask if it was Darren when
he heard the unmistakable key-jangling of his boss approaching. He shut his
mouth and stood still, staring straight ahead.
Sue Sylvester marched toward them, smirking. "I see our lustful prince needed a
respite from the party. He's more a fan of the non-dancing kind of balls, isn't
he?"
"His Highness is in his dressing room, ma'am," Ryder said.
"Yes, I gathered that. I also gather he's not alone."
"No, ma'am."
"It must be so rewarding being the prince's private booty guards."
"Yes, ma'am."
"All right. Just call if you need any backup. I wish I could think of a way to
make that an innuendo."
"Yes, ma'am."
Sue continued on her rounds, muttering to herself. "Backup. Back...up...There's
an obvious one there I can't believe I'm missing. Damn, I hate being off my
game like this...Booty guards was pretty good, though."
.
Sam wasn't worried about anyone guarding his booty; he was way more into
Darren's at the moment. Like, into it...with his tongue. Darren was into it
too, if his moaning and writhing was any indication. Sam didn't rim guys very
often, but he wanted to be really sure not to hurt Darren. And it was so hot:
Darren's ass was amazing, and even more amazing was how crazy the rim job was
making him.
But it was also incredibly frustrating, because Darren was so tight that he was
taking a long time to stretch. And Sam really had been patient, but now he
needed...
It suddenly struck him that what he needed wasn't what he had thought he
needed. He didn't need to get his dick inside Darren's ass. He needed Darren's
dick inside his. The realization made him groan so loud that Darren asked if he
was all right.
Sam peered up and said, "I'm awesome." He licked up over Darren's balls and
cock, which—yes!—was rock-hard again. "Change of plans, though. If you don't
mind."
Fuck! Blaine knew this was too good to be true. He tried but failed to keep the
disappointment out of his voice when he replied, "Of course. I understand."
"You don't have to!" Sam assured him. "I just...I realized I really want you
inside me, but if you don't want to we can do whatever you want."
Blaine was speechless. Literally. He just gaped down at the gorgeous prince
between his legs.
"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I shouldn't have assumed that would be okay with you.
Forget I said anything." He scooted back down to resume what he'd been doing a
minute ago.
"Wait," Blaine said. "You really want that?"
"Yeah," Sam said. "I really, really do." He was sorry he'd brought it up. Or
rather, he was sorry the realization had struck him at all. Because now that he
was aware of needing it, the prospect of not getting it was agonizing.
"But I've never..."
"I know that. I mean I'm sorry, maybe you didn't want me to know, but Kurt told
me you're a virgin. I just really want...I hope you're not worried that you
won't be 'good' at it or whatever because I don't care about your 'technique,'
I just really want to feel you inside me. Only if you want to, but I mean...I
just really, really hope you want to."
"I do," Blaine said. "I really, really do. If you're being serious that you
don't care how bad I am at it."
"But there's nothing even to be bad at. You just put it in! And I'll even do
the stretching and lubing stuff so—"
"That's okay. I mean, I'd like to do it. If you don't mind."
Sam handed him the jar of coconut oil. "You have to warm it up a little in your
hands first." He wasn't sure if Darren needed any instructions beyond that,
much less would welcome any, so he didn't offer any. Instead he just rolled
onto his back and hugged his knees to his chest.
"Oh my God," Blaine muttered at the sight. In all the explicit fantasies he'd
had about Prince Samuel, he'd never even dared to imagine him in this
particular position, all vulnerable and open like this. He felt his dick jump
at the thought of Sam being open like this for him.
It felt like forever, but finally Darren's warm, oily fingers were on him,
tentatively circling his rim. Sam whined piteously. "Too much?" Darren asked
him in alarm.
"No, not too much!" Sam assured him. It was the opposite, but he wasn't going
to criticize. "You can put them inside any time you want. You won't hurt me."
One finger slid in then, and it was still tentative but it was inside, and it
felt so good. "Oh God," Sam gasped. "Yeah. Like that. Like that but more."
Blaine applied a little more pressure. Just a little more. He was pretty sure
this wasn't Sam's first time, but he was terrified of hurting him. Besides...he
was enjoying this so much, seeing Sam move under him like this at the slightest
touch. He wanted to be inside him very, very much...but not enough to want to
rush through this.
.
Finn was finishing up another dance with another random guest. Each dance was
short; Quinn had probably instructed the band to play only very short pieces so
Finn could dance with as many different women as possible. The music ended and
he bowed to the young woman, who giggled and curtsied. "Thank you, Your
Highness! God, I can't wait to tell my mom I got to dance with you!"
"The pleasure was all mine," Finn said, smiling at her. But he soon had to turn
his attention away from her to find his next partner.
Or...not. Before he could even look around the room, this short brunette woman
was curtsying in front of him and asking, "Your Highness, may I have this
dance?"
It was totally against protocol for a non-royal to ask a royal to dance.
Everyone knew that. Or...maybe they didn't. Maybe the public education system
really had gotten worse than Finn realized. Or maybe she was a foreigner.
Anyway, Finn didn't really care, as it saved him from having to pick someone
out and ask her.
She pressed herself really close to him as they danced. Like, really
inappropriately close. Finn took a step back and held her, a little forcefully,
at arm's length. "So where are you from, miss?" he asked. His guess was the
U.S., but she surprised him by naming a suburb not that far from the capital.
"I saw Prince Samuel dancing with that man," she announced. "And if that
display was to demonstrate the royal family's acceptance of the gay lifestyle,
then I want to you know you have my full support."
"Thank you. That's very kind."
"But it looked like more than that to me," she went on. "And, you know, not
everyone in this kingdom is as tolerant as I am."
"I disagree," Finn said. Hoping she'd get the hint he added, "Most citizens are
respectful of each others' privacy."
She didn't seem to get the hint, though. She ignored his comment entirely and
said, "He should still marry a woman he can have little princes and princesses
with. Someone like me. As long as he was discreet, I could be too."
Finn stopped dancing. "I beg your pardon."
"I'm just saying." Although the woman was much smaller than he was, she somehow
got him dancing with her again. "And when I say that I can be discreet, I don't
just mean about Prince Samuel. I also mean..."
Although he wanted no part of this conversation, Finn found himself looking
down at her, waiting for her to go on. She actually batted her eyelashes at
him—or at least he thought that was what she was doing; it was hard to tell
behind her blinged-out mask—and said, "You're the one I've always wanted." She
pressed herself against him and went on, "I would be your mistress..."
Okay, so yes, Finn had just been thinking uncharitable thoughts about his wife
regarding their sex life. And he had considered cheating on her before—he'd
even come really close on an occasion or two. But he had never done it, and if
he ever did, it certainly wouldn't be with some annoying, pushy, completely
transparent schemer like this one. His only concern now was how to end this
conversation without having her cause a scene.
Finn gestured over one of the guards. "Mr. Karofsky is going to finish this
dance with you, miss," he said, stopping and letting the guard cut in.
"Oh! But—"
"Dave, please keep an eye on the young lady. If she becomes disruptive, she'll
have to leave."
"Of course, Your Highness."
Finn bowed stiffly at the woman and turned to look for a non-psychotic dance
partner. As he walked away he heard her calling after him, "But you'll tell
Prince Samuel about my offer, won't you? My name is Rachel and my phone number
is..."
Karofsky spun the young lady around as Prince Finn walked away. "Do you have a
brother, by any chance?" he asked her.
.
Sam really couldn't take any more. Yes, he'd promised himself he'd be patient,
but now it was a super long time later, and Darren had finally worked his way
up to having a third finger inside him, and he was now kissing and licking his
balls, and Sam was in real danger of coming without Darren's dick in him, and
he desperately wanted to come with Darren's dick in him. "Okay, okay," he
panted. "Please. Please fuck me now. I can't..."
"Yeah," Blaine replied. He couldn't wait any longer either. Despite his two
earlier orgasms his cock felt like it had never been so neglected. He groaned
at the touch of his own hand rubbing some coconut oil onto it.
He was still a little nervous though. Not nervous that he was going to hurt
Sam—Sam's responses to his fingers had assuaged that fear—but just...because.
"Is this position good?" he asked. "I mean, do you want me actually on top like
this, or...?"
"Yeah, just like this," Sam said, spreading his legs wider. "Please."
Blaine got up onto his knees and lined himself up. He gasped as the head of his
cock popped inside Sam's welcoming entrance.
Sam gasped too. He gasped and said, "More, more, more!"
Blaine pushed in more. Slowly, because he was in awe at the sight of his dick
sinking deeper and deeper into Sam's ass. It went in and in and in and then his
balls were pressed up against Sam's ass and he couldn't go in any farther. He
held that position for several seconds, just trying to let his brain catch up
to the reality of what they were doing.
Sam let out a deep sigh. It was such a relief to have Darren finally all the
way in him. But, God, why wasn't he moving? "Are you okay, baby?" he asked.
Blaine was vaguely aware that Sam had just asked if he was okay. But it was
such a ridiculous question. He was so much better than okay. He tried to say as
much, but his answer came out as something like guh.
Okay. Sam could work with this. He would just move underneath Darren. Yeah.
Yeah, fuck, that was good. The way Sam was rocking back and forth on his cock
was incredible. Blaine would have been happy to just let Sam keep doing that as
long as he wanted. Or that's what his brain thought anyway, but some part of
his body wasn't content with that, and his hips started moving. He was
thrusting in gently, and then not so gently, and then Sam's hands were on his
ass pulling him in even harder and deeper than he would have thought possible.
Sam had his arms and legs wrapped around Darren, and he lifted his head up to
kiss him. He just wanted every possible part of his body, inside and out, to be
touching Darren's body, and it wasn't even about his impending orgasm, though
he could tell that was going to be epic. What was going to be even more epic
was Darren's orgasm. Sam wanted Darren's essence inside him so badly.
Once he got going, Blaine wasn't able to hold off very long at all. All he
could do was hope that Sam would be understanding—which he had been about, so
far, everything—and warn him somewhat incoherently, "I can't...I'm gonna..."
"God, yes, please come inside me."
Blaine was going to do just that with or without permission, but hearing Sam
ask for it so desperately set him off even stronger. With one final deep and
powerful thrust, his body locked up and his cock began to erupt violently.
Sam actually screamed when he felt the first gush of Darren's come blast inside
him. He screamed and he shook and he bit down on Darren's shoulder as his own
orgasm tore through him. He was still shaking when Darren's body went boneless
and collapsed on top of him. At least he wasn't screaming anymore though. It
was more of a breathy moan by that point.
As soon as he was able to form actual words, he said weakly, "I'm sorry about
your shoulder."
"Huh?" Blaine asked, dazed.
"I said I'm sorry about your shoulder."
Blaine still didn't get it. "Huh?" he asked again.
"I'm sorry I bit your shoulder."
"Oh. It's okay. I didn't even notice." Blaine sighed and snuggled against Sam.
But then he thought of something. "Not because I did something you didn't like,
I hope."
"Not because of that at all," Sam said. "It was perfect. You were perfect."
.
"Finally," Jake said. Finally they heard some sex noises.
"Finally?"
"Yeah, I mean...I was starting to worry that His Highness and that Darren guy
had both passed out or something."
"That's not what I was worried about," Ryder said.
"What were you worried about?"
"No, I mean...I wasn't worried."
"Okay." Jake didn't believe this but decided not to press. "This guy's a lot
quieter than the guy earlier today," he noted.
"Uh-huh," Ryder said. But Jake didn't understand at all. He didn't understand
that the noises weren't that much quieter, they were just coming from farther
away. Which meant Prince Samuel had taken Darren into his bedroom. Also, most
of the noises weren't Darren's. Which meant, Ryder was pretty sure, that His
Highness was the one taking it.
It made him furious. Prince Samuel probably had no idea that this guy he was
letting fuck him in the ass had just gotten done blowing Jake, and God knows
who else.
.
Blaine lay with his head on Sam's shoulder, wishing his stupid mask weren't in
the way. That was really his only complaint, though, and considering how happy
he was in every other respect, it wasn't a big deal at all.
Sam, however, groaned. Like, not a sexy groan.
"What's wrong, Sam?" It still sounded weird to Blaine to call prince that.
Weird, but in a way he loved.
"No, nothing. Just...I just thought of how my father's going to kill me for
being gone so long," Sam admitted.
Blaine sat up. "Oh my God! I'm sorry! I don't want to get you in trouble with
your...with the king."
"No, don't worry," Sam said, trying to pull Blaine back down onto his chest.
"It's not your fault, and anyway, it would totally be worth it."
Blaine resisted the desire to allow himself to be pulled back down. "It
wouldn't be worth it to me," he said. "I'd never forgive myself."
"You know he won't actually kill me, right? There would be all kinds of bad
press."
"No, I know, but...I'd feel terrible if he even yelled at you."
.
David Martinez was sharing a dance with his longtime partner downstairs. "I
can't believe the king and queen seem so supportive of Prince Samuel basically
coming out like this," Dustin was saying.
"I admit I was pleasantly surprised," David agreed. "I'm not surprised they
knew, but I never thought they were especially eager for everyone to know." He
thought about it as they did a spin. "But what do I know? I'm hardly in their
inner circle."
"You're pretty close, though. I mean, you've seen Prince Samuel in his
underwear."
"Lots of men have seen Prince Samuel in his underwear. And out of them."
Speaking of which, he looked around for Jeremiah. Last he'd seen him the poor
kid was just standing around looking lovelorn. He seemed to be constantly
trying to catch a glimpse of the prince, who hadn't made an appearance in the
ballroom in quite some time.
"I still can't believe you turned him down that one time." Dustin said. "I
mean, I love you, honey, but if he came onto me, I wouldn't turn him down."
"He's half our age!"
"Speak for yourself. He's a full..." Dustin did a quick mental calculation.
"...52.5 percent of my age."
"Yes, that 2.5 percent makes a big difference. Anyway, he only tops, from what
I hear."
"Like that's a problem!"
"Not for me, claro, but for you. So don't get any ideas."
"Oh, come on! You can let me think about it at least. It's not like I'm ever
going to get the chance in real life. Especially not if he settles down with
that guy he was dancing with."
David laughed.
"What? You don't think it's possible?"
"Possible, I suppose," David conceded. "It just goes against everything I know
about him, which, again, isn't that much more than his inseam. Mostly I don't
want to get my hopes up."
"Your hopes?" Dustin asked. "I know you're an incurable romantic and I love you
for it, but I wouldn't have guessed you'd be so emotionally invested in a
twenty-one-year-old finding true love and settling down."
"No, but don't you see? If Prince Samuel wants to marry a man, we might
actually join the twenty-first century and get same-sex marriage recognition in
this kingdom."
Dustin stopped dancing. "You really think that's all it would take?"
"No, it's not all. It's the way things are headed everywhere; we'd hardly be
trailblazers. But look. The king got the primogeniture laws changed when he had
a daughter and it didn't look like he'd ever have a son. He seems more inclined
to do the right thing when it's personal for him and his family."
"Hmm. I hope you're right. And for the record, if you are, I get to propose to
you."
"Not if I beat you to it."
"Ha," Dustin said. "Like that will happen."
"Oh really?" David dropped down to one knee. He took his boyfriend's hand and
said, "Dustin Goolsby, I love you." He noticed the people around them stop
dancing and turn to watch. "Would you do me the great honor of—"
"Wait!" Dustin dropped to his knees too and put his hand over David's mouth.
"Please let me do it. Not now. When I've had a chance to write a really mushy
speech. Please."
David rolled his eyes affectionately. "Okay. If we can consider ourselves pre-
engaged."
"Oh, we're definitely pre-engaged now," Dustin said. He kissed David and
whispered in his ear, "Te amo, corazón dulce."
"Yo tambien te amo, mi vida."
The small group of people who had stopped to watch the attempted proposal
clapped as they kissed on their knees. And then David was shocked out of the
moment by a vaguely familiar voice above him clearing his throat and saying,
"Señor Martinez? I'm sorry to interrupt..."
He looked up irritably. But when he realized who it was he wiped the irritation
off his face and stood up. "Is His Highness having a problem with his suit?"
"Something like that, I think," Ryder said. "He asked me to bring you to him."
David held his hand out to his pre-fiancé and helped him up. "I'm sorry, honey,
I have to..."
"Yeah, it's fine."
"It shouldn't take long. Maybe if you see Jeremiah you could ask him to dance
or something?"
"But he's half my age!"
"He's less than that, and I just said dance!"
Once they were out of the ballroom, Ryder said, "I really am sorry to have
interrupted."
"Oh, no, it's fine. I just hope you don't think anything inappropriate was
going on. We were just getting pre-engaged."
"Oh," Ryder said. He wasn't sure what the response to a pre-engagement was.
"Well then...pre-congratulations." He probably could have tried to sound a
little happier for Señor Martinez. He liked the guy and everything, it was
just...it wasn't the easiest time for him to be happy for other people who were
in love.
Prince Samuel was still in his underwear when they got to the dressing room.
His hair was even more messed up than when he'd stepped out into the hall
asking Ryder to get Señor Martinez, and his face was flushed.
So was Darren's.
"Your Highness, what happened?" Señor Martinez asked. "I don't have the
materials to make you a whole new suit!"
"Oh, no, mine is fine. It's over there." He gestured vaguely to a pile of
clothing on the floor, which Ryder could see Señor Martinez trying very hard
not to freak out about.
"Then...what can I help Your Highness with?"
"It's my friend, Darren," Prince Samuel said. Darren held out his hand and
David shook it.
David had noticed the man there when he first walked in, of course, but he'd
been discreetly trying not to look. Now that he was looking, he saw that the
upper half of his outfit was impeccable, aside from the sloppily tied tie. The
pants were equally well made, but didn't quite match and, worse, didn't fit
well at all. "Yes, I see," he said. That is, he didn't see why Darren was
dressed this way, but he could see that something needed to be done.
"He spilled something on his own pants," Prince Samuel explained. "And we sort
of forgot to clean it before the stain set, so I thought he could borrow some
of mine."
"Ah, yes, of course. I can't do a complete alteration with just my 'travel
kit,'" David said, patting the pocket where he kept a few emergency supplies.
"But I can manage something that will hold for the rest of the night."
"You're a lifesaver, David. Just as long as we can dance without him tripping
on the legs, we'll be happy."
Darren spoke then. "Sam, you should go back now. I'll come down as soon as I
can."
David and Ryder both froze. Had this guy really just addressed His Highness as
Sam?
His Highness didn't seem to mind at all. He kissed Darren on the cheek and
said, "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'm not going anywhere without you."
The tailor was fast; it barely took him any more time to put a hem in the pants
Blaine was wearing than it took Sam to get dressed again. Of the two, Blaine
greatly preferred watching Sam. But he liked it even more when Sam finished
dressing and then came over and stood behind him, hands on his shoulders.
David stood and examined his work. It looked pretty good, but of course he
rarely was willing to settle for pretty good. He seemed to have little choice
now, however, given the time constraints and the lack of proper tools. "This is
a quick and dirty job," he explained apologetically. "I hope you won't think
I'm always so sloppy."
"Of course not, David," Prince Samuel said. "Not that it actually looks sloppy.
You're the best. Thanks again!"
"My pleasure, Your Highness." He bowed and prepared to leave. One thing was
still bothering him, though. "Darren," he said, wishing he'd been told the
young man's last name so he could address him properly, especially since what
he was about to say could be considered overstepping, "I could give you a hand
with that tie, if you'd like."
"Could you?" Blaine asked with relief. He never wore a bow tie, and he knew he
hadn't gotten it right. "That would be awesome. Thank you so much!"
Sam held Darren's hand as they walked back to the ballroom. He wondered whether
his father was still going to try to make him dance with girls. It seemed kind
of pointless, now that everybody knew. And anyway, he wouldn't. He only wanted
to dance with Darren.
Even though he led Darren into the ballroom through a side door, people noticed
their return, and a crowd formed around them instantly. "Sorry," Sam said,
clutching Darren's hand tighter.
"Sorry for what?"
"This," Sam said, gesturing to the throngs of people surrounding them. "I wish
they'd give us a little privacy."
Blaine wished so too, but he felt incredibly selfish for feeling that way.
"They just want to see you in person," he said. "That was the most I ever dared
to hope for before...well, you know."
"Well, now I feel like kind of a dick for not wanting to dance with any of
them."
Blaine thought he was probably supposed to encourage Sam to go dance with some
other people. It would really make the night of almost anyone he picked. But he
couldn't, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he said what he
really felt, which was, "To me it makes you the opposite of a dick."
"I'm so glad! I don't want you to think I'm a dick." They reached the dance
floor and Sam bowed and asked him to dance, which Blaine of course accepted.
Sam held him close and whispered, "Of course, I don't mind at all if you're
thinking of my dick."
Blaine blushed, because it was exactly what he was thinking of, actually. How
could it not be? Now that he knew exactly how it looked...and tasted...and
felt...how could he think of anything else?
Rachel watched as Prince Samuel danced dance after dance with that asshole
Darren. It was so unfair and just plain rude. They weren't even taking
breaks—they weren't even taking their hands off each other—between songs.
If only she could talk to him! She reluctantly accepted that she might not be
Prince Samuel's physical ideal—the evidence was right in front of her—but
surely she could get him to see reason if she could just talk to him.
The problem, in addition to the fact that he and Darren were apparently
inseparable now, was that that guard Mr. Karofsky was watching her. Not every
single minute, but often enough. Like she was going to hurt the prince. Like
she could if she wanted to—he was almost a foot taller than her, for heaven's
sake!
.
Brittany was dancing with some guy who claimed to be a count. She didn't think
he really was. There were only like four counts in the whole kingdom who were
around this guy's age. Three of them she'd already hooked up with, and she was
pretty sure she'd recognize them even with masks on. The fourth was well known
to be capital-G gay, and this guy was way too into her boobs to be gay. This
fake count was a good dancer, though, so she didn't much care that he was lying
to her in hopes of getting to do more than stare at her cleavage. It wasn't
like he was going to get to do more. And she couldn't blame him for staring;
her boobs were awesome.
She would have danced with him again, even, since Santana was still catching up
with Princess Quinn, but when the song ended a woman she didn't recognize asked
if she could cut in. And she didn't mean cut in and dance with the so-called
count, she meant cut in and dance with Brittany. Of course, Brittany was a
better dancer than he was, so that was hardly surprising.
Rachel silently congratulated herself on her plan when the blonde woman
accepted her offer to dance. Her intense scrutiny of the ballroom was really
paying off! She'd seen this woman earlier with her arm around another woman's
waist. More importantly, she'd noticed that the woman and her girlfriend had
been talking to Princess Quinn on what looked, from a distance anyway, to be
pretty familiar terms. So now not only was Rachel showing how open-minded she
was by dancing publicly with an apparent lesbian, but she was also much
likelier to be able to get close to Prince Samuel with someone known to the
royal family.
The only problem was that Brittany, as Rachel learned her name was, seemed to
want to lead. Rachel decided to try to distract her with small talk, hoping
that would make it easier to steer her. However, she had no idea what you were
supposed to say to a lesbian. "So..." she tried, "you're a lover of Sappho, I
take it?"
Brittany frowned, trying to remember if she'd even heard of that guy before. "I
don't think we ever did it," she said. "Anyway, I don't really have lovers
anymore since I got married. Except threesomes once in a while, but—"
"You're married?" Rachel asked.
"Yeah, but it's okay. My wife doesn't get jealous of me dancing with other
people."
"But...same-sex marriage isn't legal here."
"Well it's not illegal," Brittany said. "It just doesn't count, like,
officially. Which is totally unfair, don't you think?"
"Totally," Rachel said.
"I mean, what if Prince Samuel wants to get married?"
"Totally."
"We should go tell him that," Brittany announced.
"Tota-...Go what?"
"Go tell Prince Samuel to change the laws so him and his boyfriend can be
official and me and Santana can too."
"Yes, we should totally go talk to him right now!" Rachel agreed
enthusiastically. She didn't even see Mr. Karofsky around; this was almost
perfect! There was still the problem of how to get the prince away from
Brittany, not to mention Darren, but she was confident she'd think of
something.
A couple women were headed straight for the prince. Ryder intercepted them,
saying, "I'm afraid I can't let you get any closer, ladies."
"We need to talk to the prince," the taller, blonde one said.
"His Highness is occupied."
"When is he going to dance with someone else?" the shorter, brunette one asked,
kind of demandingly.
The blonde one said, "No, it's cool, I know him. I went to high school with his
sister."
"His Highness is occupied."
"We just want to tell him to change the law to allow same-sex marriage," the
blonde one said.
The brunette one, meanwhile, seemed to be creeping closer.
"If you ladies don't back off I'll have to ask you to leave the ballroom."
"How can you say that?" the blonde one asked. "You're like a traitor to your
own orientation!"
Ryder flinched. He wasn't in the closet exactly; he just didn't know how she
could tell. He only flinched for a second, but it was long enough for the
brunette one to get past him.
One second Blaine was dancing cheek-to-cheek—well, cheek-to-mask—with Sam,
completely oblivious to the hundreds of other people around them, and the next
second he felt someone touching his elbow—someone he knew wasn't Sam because
both Sam's hands were on his back, just barely above his ass. And when he
looked to see who was intruding on his perfect moment, he couldn't believe it
was fucking... "Rachel!"
Ryder was just about to grab the woman, but he held back when he realized
Darren knew her.
Rachel flashed Darren her most dazzling smile. She was so glad he remembered
her; that was going to make this easier. "Darren, don't you remember you were
going to introduce me to His Highness?" she asked sweetly.
Sam felt Darren go rigid in his arms. "Are you okay, baby? Who is this?"
"She's...she's the same woman who was harassing me before you first asked me to
dance."
"Harassing you!?" Rachel objected. "We were having a friendly conversation!"
"You want me to introduce you to the prince, Rachel?"
"That would be lovely."
"Your Highness, may I present Rachel. She's intent on marrying you. She doesn't
even like you that much, she just wants to be a princess."
Rachel sputtered incoherently.
"Get her out of here, Ryder," Sam ordered. Not because this Rachel was any
threat, but because she was annoying Darren. That was something he wouldn't
allow.
Blaine wasn't proud of how gleeful he felt watching Rachel get hauled away by
the prince's guard. And she did really have to be hauled—after she refused to
cooperate, Ryder picked her up in a fireman's carry. She kicked and screamed
and the whole bit. Blaine tried really hard not to smile, but that was a lost
cause. He did manage not to cackle.
Everybody turned to watch the spectacle, naturally. It was the last thing Sam
wanted. What he wanted was to be alone with Darren again. "Fuck this," he said,
as he took Darren's hand and led him back up to his bedroom.
Darren followed quickly and silently. When Sam closed the door—guarded by just
Jake this time—he asked, "Do you mind? Hanging out here instead of down there?"
"Of course not," Blaine said. "If your father won't kill you."
"I don't think he will, actually." Sam had been surprised not to be reprimanded
for leaving the ball for as long as he already had. So...maybe his father had
decided to be cool about this. And even if he hadn't, Sam could deal with him
later. "So what do you feel like doing?"
Blaine blushed. Being back in Sam's bedroom made him feel like doing exactly
what they'd been doing before. Or if not exactly, then a close variation. But
obviously he couldn't presume that Sam would want to again.
Darren sure blushed a lot. It was hot as hell actually, and Sam hoped that, in
this case, it meant what he thought it meant. He stepped closer and reached for
Darren's bow tie. "Maybe I should help you out of this?" he suggested.
"I'll probably never get it tied again if you do," Darren said.
"Why would you need to?" Sam asked. "When we can stay here all night with no
ties on...no shirts...no pants..."
"God, that sounds perfect."
.
Blaine realized he must have fallen asleep at some point. He'd fallen asleep
and now he was naked and wrapped up in the warm embrace of the prince, also
naked and also asleep. It was perfect except for an annoying, persistent sound
coming from the next room. That noise was really bugging him. He wondered if it
was important somehow. "Your Highness?" He nudged the prince. "Sam?"
Sam's only response was to groan lightly and snuggle him tighter.
Blaine opened his eyes. The light in the room seemed different. Shit, the
light! Light was starting to come in from outside. What time was it? Oh fuck,
that noise he heard was his alarm! He jumped out of bed and found his pants.
The phone wasn't in them!
That's right, these were Sam's pants. The phone Kurt had given him was in the
pants Kurt had given him, which were...shit! in the dressing room!
"Darren?" Sam mumbled. "Darren, come back to bed."
Blaine paused at the door to the dressing room. "I have to go," he said.
"What?" Sam sat up in bed, alert now but still adorably mussed. "Why?"
"Kurt. He said I had to be gone by dawn and it's already..." Blaine trailed off
because he didn't actually know exactly how close it was to dawn. Just that it
was close.
"Fucking Kurt!" Sam rolled out of bed and ran into the dressing room, where
Darren was pulling his pants on. "What did he say he'd do if you didn't leave
by dawn?"
"He didn't say," Blaine said. It was really tempting to just stay and take his
chances. Maybe if it wouldn't be too bad... "What do you think he might do?"
"I don't know," Sam admitted. He'd never not held up his end of a deal with
Kurt. If it meant Kurt doing something to him he would risk it, but not with
Darren being the one to suffer. "You'd better go."
"Yeah." Blaine put his socks and shoes on, then rushed back into the bedroom
for his shirt and jacket. The tie he just left lying on the floor. He didn't
bother to button the jacket, or half of the shirt for that matter. He looked at
his phone. 6:58. That gave him four minutes to find his way out. "I'm sorry,"
he said. And then, after the night they'd had together he decided it wouldn't
be too forward to pull the prince close and kiss him one last time. And the
prince, judging from the way he kissed back, didn't seem to disagree.
It was a mistake, though. Because now Blaine didn't ever want to stop kissing
him. He did stop, though. He stopped when Sam pulled back and said, "You need
to go."
Blaine looked at his phone again and saw the time change from 6:59 to 7:00. He
didn't even have time to say good-bye now, he only had time to run.
Sam followed him out into the hall. Jake jumped in front of him. "Your
Highness! Are you all right? Can I get you some...clothes?"
Leaning around his guard, Sam yelled down the hallway, "I'll find you! Do you
hear me, Darren? Or whatever your name really is? Wait for me, I'll find you!"
But Darren—or whatever his name really was—was already gone.
***** Exactly How Rumors Spread *****
Blaine sprinted down a staircase, down a long hallway, and past a few groups of
stragglers leaving the ball. He didn't stop running when someone yelled at him
to take it easy, or when the early morning light hit his eyes, or when Rachel's
mask fell right off his face. He ran until he was in the street, and even then
he didn't stop until a limo screeched to a stop, inches away from hitting him.
A woman got out of the back seat, asking, "Are you all right?"
And Blaine recognized her! "Brittany?"
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I'm..." Blaine couldn't remember if he'd told her his name was Darren. And
anyway he didn't look like that anymore—the mask was gone, and he was wearing
Jesse's old suit again. "Sorry. Never mind. I thought you were someone else."
"Oh, okay." She turned to get back in the car but then stopped. "Wait, you know
my name though."
"Right. I just meant that you probably don't remember me. We met last night but
just for like a minute."
"You were at the ball?" Santana called from inside the car. "Dressed like
that?"
"Uh...no. Something happened to the outfit I wore at the ball, so—"
"Something happened to that one too," Brittany said. And she pointed right at
his crotch.
Blaine looked and—oh, God!—there was a come stain on the crotch of Jesse's
suit. "Fucking Kurt!" he said.
"I don't think you fucked this Kurt guy right if he came on your pants,"
Brittany said.
"Well, it was nice seeing you again." Blaine started walking in the direction
he thought downtown was in, where he could catch a bus home. Except...shit,
Kurt hadn't let him bring his wallet, and it hadn't occurred to him to put any
cash in his pocket. "Um, Brittany? I hate to ask since we don't really know
each other, but...do you think I could borrow bus fare?"
"You couldn't ask the guy who blew a load on your pants for bus fare?" Santana
asked.
"I blew the load," Blaine admitted.
"Santana, don't make him blush!" Brittany chided. "That sort of thing just
happens to guys. They can't help it."
"Those...things...do seem to just go off," Santana agreed. With a little
shudder she added, "I don't know how guys walk around with them twenty-four/
seven."
Blaine wondered if they'd forgotten he was right there. It was probably just as
well if they had. "So...never mind. I'll find bus fare some other way. Sorry to
bother you."
"Don't be ridiculous. You can't go around asking strangers for money looking
like that," Santana said.
"Yeah," Brittany said. She gestured at Santana to scoot over and held the door
for him. "We'll give you a ride."
.
Azimio walked into the detention room and said, "Cut her loose."
"No way," Karofsky said. He was in deep enough shit already. "Did boss lady say
when she's going to be down here to question her?"
"Who do you think told me to tell you to cut her loose?" Azimio asked. In fact
he had forgotten to speak to Sue about the girl in custody like Karofsky had
asked him to. Forgot and didn't see the point anyway. This tiny little thing?
She was obviously just a harmless schoolgirl with a crush on one of the
princes.
"You see, Mr. Karofsky?" Rachel said. "The queen herself has demanded my
freedom!"
Karofsky took a deep breath and counted to ten. This one was even worse than
her brother when it came to not being able to keep her mouth shut. He gestured
for Azimio to follow him out of the room. After closing the door, he asked,
"Did you tell Sue about the brother? And about how Prince Finn said—"
"Dude. Yes," Azimio said testily. "I told her everything you told me. She said
cut her loose."
"I think I should call her."
"Yeah, you do that." Azimio said. "Because you know how she loves being asked
to repeat her fucking self. Especially when she's been up all night. Lack of
sleep makes the boss understanding and patient as hell."
Karofsky cringed. Azimio was right: Sue was surlier than ever when she hadn't
slept. "Okay, okay," he relented. After all, how much trouble could he get in
for following his boss's explicit orders? "Just do me a favor and escort her
off the grounds, would you?"
"Why should I?"
"Because I can't listen to that fucking voice for another minute."
"Pussy," Azimio said. But he agreed to do it, if it meant getting the palace
cleared out quicker so he could get some fucking sleep.
.
Jesse wasn't drunk. Not really. Like he totally could have driven himself home
from the bar he went to after leaving the ball, except...well, the bartender
was this really hot chick, and he thought he could sweet talk her into being
his "designated driver." It wasn't like he imagined the fact that she was
flirting with him the whole time he sat at the bar! But when the bar shut down
and he asked her for a ride (and maybe more!) she called him a cab instead. And
then when he tried to explain that, never mind, he wasn't really drunk, she
actually took his keys from him!
So now here he was, locked out of his own house, the cab long gone, and Blaine
not opening the fucking door for him. He banged on the door, he called Blaine's
cell, he yelled under his window...nothing. What. The. Fuck.
His mom didn't come to the door either, and her car was gone. He called her.
She didn't pick up until the fourth ring, but at least she did pick up. "Mom,
where are you?"
"I'm at Terri's. Where are you?"
"I'm at home."
"And Blaine didn't tell you about the raccoon?"
"Raccoon? What? Blaine's not even here."
"What!? He was supposed to wait for animal control. What time is it...no, he
shouldn't have left for work yet. What the hell!"
"Can you come home? I don't have my keys."
"How do you not have your keys?"
"I, uh...I left them with Rachel. So she could drive home. Yeah, she was having
a great time—dancing with the prince and everything!—and she wasn't ready to
leave yet so I left her the keys so she could drive home. I forgot to take the
house key off the ring."
Shelby squealed. "She was dancing with Prince Samuel? I knew it, I knew it! Oh,
I'm so proud of her! Of course you were right to leave her the car. Wait, how
did you get home then?"
"Cab."
"Ugh. That must have cost a fortune. No worries, though. It'll be worth it and
we'll never have to care how much anything costs ever again. Just hold on; I'll
be home as soon as I can."
.
Sam went back into his room. He screamed for Kurt, but Kurt didn't appear. He
paced furiously. There had to be a way to find Darren, even without Kurt's
help.
Sam stopped his pacing when he noticed something unusual on the floor. It was a
tie. An ugly one—nothing like anything he owned, and nothing like the one
Darren had been wearing either.
But...whose could it be if not Darren's? It wasn't Jake's or Ryder's. It
couldn't belong David Martinez. Even Jeremiah...even though he was just an
apprentice tailor, it was impossible to imagine he'd have this tacky a tie. And
no one else had been here, so...Darren must have been carrying it in his pocket
or something. For what purpose Sam couldn't imagine, but the important thing
was that he had a clue, he had Darren's tie! Not that he was sure how, exactly,
the tie would help him track Darren down, but so far it was all he had.
Except...what about that woman? The one who was harassing him, the one Darren
was so happy to see Ryder take away? They had obviously spoken before. It was
unlikely that Darren had said anything to her that would be helpful, but it was
worth a shot.
"Ryder!" Sam yelled, running out into the hall again. "Ryder, that woman you
carried off! Go get her and bring her here."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Ryder turned and walked down the hallway. "Ryder, she might be able to help me
find Darren. You gotta run, man!"
Ryder ran. But when he got to the detention room, no one was there but
Karofsky. "Where's the detainee?" he asked.
Karofsky knew it, he knew someone was going to come looking for her. Still, he
tried to sound casual when he said, "Sue said to let her go. She left a few
minutes ago."
"You just let her walk out by herself?"
"Of course not! Azimio escorted her. He's the one who got the orders from Sue."
Ryder called Azimio. "You still with her?"
"With who?"
"What do you mean 'with who'? The ball guest Sue told you to let go."
"No, man, I left her outside the palace gates. What do you care, anyway?"
"Is she still there?"
"How the hell should I know? I'm halfway back to the palace already."
"Go back and see if you can find her."
"Fuck that. You go look if you care so much."
"His Highness wants her brought to him!"
"Which Highness?"
"The one I work for, dumbass. Prince Samuel. Go see if she's still there."
Azimio paused before responding, "Fine. I'll call you back."
"He hung up on me," Ryder informed Karofsky.
"Prince Samuel wants her? Fuck! I'm so screwed. I'm so fucking screwed!"
"Hey, it's not your fault. Sue told you to let her go."
"Yeah, well...Sue told Azimio to let her go...according to Azimio." Karofsky
knew he should have called to check.
"Whatever," Ryder said. "It's still not your fault." He wondered how Prince
Samuel thought that pest could possibly lead him to Darren. Darren had said her
name, but so what? It wasn't like she had said his. Obviously the prince was
just grasping at straws, but...but he cared enough about finding Darren to
grasp at them.
Azimio called back a few minutes later to say that she was long gone and not to
call and bother him any more. Ryder stared at his phone. He should go check
himself, he knew. He didn't know Azimio that well, but he knew he didn't have a
reputation for being the most conscientious of the guards. And Karofsky did
know him pretty well and didn't seem to trust him that much.
On the other hand...
Azimio wouldn't really say he'd checked if he hadn't, not if one of the royal
family was looking for someone. Right? And why would she hang around anyway?
And even if she were still there, by some remote chance, how could she possibly
lead Prince Samuel to Darren? And wouldn't Prince Samuel just be disappointed
anyway if he did manage to track down this Darren? Almost certainly!
Not that that last point was any of Ryder's concern. He knew that. But...
Shit, Karofsky was punching the wall now. Ryder grabbed his arm. "Take it easy,
man. It's not that big a deal."
"Easy for you to say." Karofsky managed to free his arm but didn't throw
another punch at the wall. "Prince Finn specifically told me to watch that
little bitch. And she was being fine, she started dancing with someone else,
and I thought it would be safe to duck out for just a second to take a leak,
but then no sooner do I get back than you're carrying her away, kicking and
screaming, which I should never have let get to that point."
"But it's not like she actually hurt anyone," Ryder said. "And besides, if you
had to—"
"And now I've let her get away, with no interrogation, no nothing, and Prince
Samuel is looking for her. I am so getting fired."
"No, you're not."
"Sue's already on the fucking warpath. She fired Leslie and Jack this morning."
"What? No way! For what?"
"They didn't catch Princess Beth sneaking out of the nursery last night."
"Fuck," Ryder said. That seemed extreme for something that could happen to
anyone. Maybe Karofsky was right. "Maybe I'll get fired too." And maybe it was
just because of what a long night it had been, but the thought really didn't
bother him.
"Maybe," Karofsky agreed. "Maybe not, though. If you get back to your prince."
"Yeah. In a minute. I just...I hate to leave you like this, man."
"Like what?" Karofsky scoffed. "What are you even talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about." Ryder stood behind him and, very carefully,
placed his hands on Karofsky's shoulders. "You're so fucking tense."
Karofsky groaned at the touch. It was so unfair. This had only happened a few
times before, and it was always when Karofsky most needed what he didn't want
to need. He had no idea how Ryder knew. He'd taken what Ryder had offered
before, but this time it seemed dangerous. "What if we get caught?"
"We're probably both getting fired anyway."
"Yeah but then they'd know that..."
"Dave," Ryder said, massaging his shoulders. "The king's son came out last
night. You think anyone cares that you're a faggot too?"
"Don't call me that," Karofsky said, muscles tensing even more under Ryder's
hands.
"Why not? Cause you don't actually wanna fuck me?"
"Obviously you know I do. You catch me at my weakest moments and you—"
"Yeah. It's my fault you're a fag. Whatever, just do me." Karofsky had a point,
of course: Ryder was intentionally manipulating him in a weak moment. But only
because he knew Karofsky had to be kind of pissed off before he would do what
he needed. What they both needed.
Karofsky punched the wall again. It fucking hurt his hand, which pissed him off
even more. Which made him even hornier. That didn't mean he had to fuck Ryder
though. He could just...
Ah, who was he kidding?
"Fine, if you want my cock that bad. But not here." He grabbed Ryder by the arm
and dragged him to his bedroom. He wasn't too worried about Azimio next
door—the walls weren't particularly thin and Azimio wasn't a particularly light
sleeper, as far as he knew—but still he growled into Ryder's ear, "Don't make
any fucking noise" before he pushed him face-down on the bed.
Ryder wriggled out of his clothes without turning to look at Karofsky. He
briefly asked himself what the fuck he was doing, but luckily it wasn't long
before Dave was shoving a couple lube-coated fingers up his ass and all he
could worry about was not making any fucking noise. That was difficult enough
to require all his concentration, because Dave was being careless, and it hurt.
It was okay, though, it was what he wanted. At least...among things he could
actually have right now, this was the closest to being something he wanted.
Karofsky fucking hated Ryder. Hated him and envied him and wanted him all at
the same time.
He hated him for having so much power over him, for having it and for using it.
He envied him for pretty much the same reason. He wanted him for the obvious
reason: the guy was fucking hot. Not to mention that he was pretty much the
only guy Karofsky ever even had the opportunity to fuck.
He sometimes wondered what it would be like to have Ryder as an actual
boyfriend, even though he hated him and even though Ryder had made it clear he
was only interested in an occasional (very occasional) fuck.
He had a great ass, though. Other great parts too, but Karofsky never got to
properly appreciate any of them. They never kissed or "made out" or anything;
they always got right to it, always with Karofsky taking him from behind.
Ryder had to bite down on the pillow when Karofsky entered him. He bit down and
clutched the edges of the mattress and did not scream and willed himself to
relax and just take it until, after a minute or two, the pain turned to
(primarily) pleasure. He had to keep biting down, but by now it was to hold in
a different kind of scream.
Karofsky plowed him ruthlessly. The room filled with the sounds of skin
slapping against skin and the headboard slamming against the wall. And then
came the gurgling noise from the back of Dave's throat, the one that signaled
he was almost done. There were just a couple more extra-deep thrusts, and then
everything was still. Ryder felt the warm liquid filling his ass and he heard
Dave breathing heavily above him and that was all.
Ryder looked beautiful. Not his face—well, probably his face, but Karofsky
couldn't see it right now—but his back and his shoulders and his arms, muscles
tense as he gripped the mattress, a thin sheen of perspiration glistening on
his skin. Karofsky sort of loved him right now...though he knew it would pass
in a minute. He should kiss him, he thought. He should lean down and kiss the
back of his neck before the feeling passed.
He didn't, though. Ryder scooted out from under him and got off the bed and the
moment was gone.
Ryder wordlessly gathered his clothes and retreated to Karofsky's bathroom,
where he locked the door and leaned back against it. Letting everything he was
holding drop to the floor, he took his aching dick in one hand and shoved a
couple fingers from the other one up his fucked-open asshole. The jizz in there
squished around so loudly that he wondered if Karofsky could hear it through
the door.
Needing some fucking release more than anything, Ryder jerked himself
furiously. Release was elusive, though; he had to chase it much harder than
usual. What finally enabled him to catch it was an image that flashed through
his mind—super brief but super vivid—of turning his head to watch Karofsky
fucking him, and seeing Prince Samuel there instead. He gasped and shivered
right before he started to unload onto his own abs, his mind going momentarily
blank and a feeling of well-being spreading through his body.
He slumped against the wall and enjoyed the feeling for as long as he
could—about a minute—before he had to get cleaned up and dressed and go tell
Prince Samuel that he had failed him.
.
Rachel stood outside the palace gate, waiting for another car to come out. None
of them had stopped for her so far, but sooner or later one had to. Right? She
was a bona fide damsel in distress, stranded here with no car and no phone
even. That one guard, even though he was the one who finally freed her, was
very rude when she asked if they could go back for her phone. He actually told
her to shut the f--- up! And then when she persisted, he didn't respond at all.
All in all, the night had been terrible. She couldn't believe she used to look
up to the royal family. It turned out they weren't a class act at all. She was
just glad she had realized this before making the huge mistake of marrying one
of them.
Wow. The last car she saw was a really long time ago. Maybe there weren't going
to be any more. She was going to have to walk, at least until she got to some
place with traffic she could flag down or a phone she could use. This was
absolutely the last time she would ever go to the palace.
Oh, and she was going to kill Jesse for abandoning her.
.
"This crazy girl was dancing with me, and she was super into me, which, like, I
can't blame her for cause I'd be into me too if I wasn't already me," Brittany
said, while Santana nodded along. "And then she was like, 'Let's go tell Prince
Samuel that we should be allowed to get married,' and I was like, 'Slow down,
because one, I just met you, and two, I'm already married,' but she totally
pretended she didn't hear me, and then she dragged me halfway across the
ballroom—and let me tell you, she's a lot stronger than she looks—and she
started flirting with the prince's gay guard—"
Blaine laughed. "That's so Rachel."
"You know her?" Santana asked.
"I mean...I heard the commotion. Everyone did, right?"
"Yeah, but how did you know her name?" Santana persisted.
"Because I mentioned it," Brittany said. "Keep up, San. Now back to my story:
She's flirting with the gay guard, which isn't working, obviously, but then he
starts to check me out because, you know, even though he's gay, duh! And then
Rachel goes into this jealous rage, and she's like, 'If you're going to flirt
with my future wife—which, don't worry, Santana, it isn't going to happen—then
I'm going to go seduce your lover the prince—"
"Wait! The guard and the prince are lovers?"
"Well, yeah, I mean...I assume so."
Santana nodded. "It only stands to reason. There's pretty much no good-looking
gay guy in the capital that Prince Samuel hasn't slept with."
"Oh." Yeah, of course. Sam...Prince Samuel could have any guy, so why wouldn't
he have them all? "So, um, which guard is the gay one?" Blaine asked. Not that
he was going to imagine the two of them together. He was going to try very hard
not to, in fact, and..."You know what? Never mind."
But Santana answered anyway: "The white one."
Brittany nodded and added, "Though I wouldn't be surprised if he was getting
some from the black one too. He's been known to persuade straight gays from
time to time. And anyway, I'm not sure he's completely straight. Him and his
brother both. I think they're—"
"Ew, Britt, that would be incest!" Santana said.
"I didn't mean that! I just think they're both flexible. It probably runs in
the family or something."
Blaine didn't know who Jake's brother was, nor did he care. Unless, of course,
this brother was also a lover of Prince Samuel's.
Not that it was any of his business. None of it took away from the one night he
had had with the prince. He just had to remember that.
Brittany finished her story about Rachel's craziness, but for some reason
Blaine couldn't really enjoy it like he should have. Even the part about her
getting hauled away kicking and screaming had him barely chuckling.
.
Poor Ryder. He'd seemed so broken up about not being able to find that woman.
He looked like he'd maybe even been crying or something. Sam had told him it
was okay, she was a long shot anyway. He'd told him and Jake to go get some
sleep.
Not that he himself could sleep. He knew it was stupid to feel this way, but
the bed felt empty and lonely without Darren.
How was he going to find him?
He picked up the tie again, his only clue. Maybe...
He found his phone and opened his contacts to look for David's number.
"Whatcha doin'?"
Sam spun around to see Kurt making himself comfortable on the bed. "Get up!" he
shouted. He didn't want anything or anyone diluting Darren's scent on the
sheets. But then, remembering he needed Kurt, he added, "Please."
Kurt smirked at him as he stood up. "So. How was the ball?"
"Kurt, he's so...And I think I'm in...Please, you have to tell me how to find
him again!"
"Hmm. Interesting. So what you're saying is that you were wrong to insist on me
not telling you who he was."
"Yes! Yes, I was so wrong, Kurt." Sam, feeling it was impossible to lay it on
too thick in this situation, got down on his knees in front of Kurt. "I was
wrong and you were right—of course you were right—and I'm so, so sorry!"
"Oh, of course you are, sweetie." Kurt ruffled Sam's hair as the prince peered
up at him beseechingly. "And I accept your apology. It's just too bad that..."
"Too bad that what?"
"Well, we made an agreement. So now my hands are tied." Kurt held his wrists
together to illustrate.
"You don't even have to tell me who he is! Go tell him to come here and tell me
himself."
"He's not allowed to tell you either. That was your stipulation, honey. He's
not allowed and, just to be sure, I made it so he's not physically able."
"Then tell him to come here and say something else! Tell him to come to the
palace with a message for me that...I dunno, that the rain in Spain stays
mainly in the plain."
"A code? I appreciate that you think that might not violate the letter of the
law, but it so clearly violates the spirit that it's out of the question."
"But there must be something you can—"
"Tell me your ideas. I bet you've been trying to think of ways to find him
without me."
"Well, I..." Sam decided he probably had nothing to lose by showing Kurt the
tie, and he held it up. "I think this is his."
Kurt inspected the tie. It was Blaine's, all right...or rather, Blaine's
stepbrother's. "And you still want to find him?" he asked. "That thing is
hideous."
"You don't really think I love him for his fashion sense, do you?" Sam snapped.
"You love him?"
Sam nodded seriously. "Yes. So, please..."
"So you have a clue. Good. What are you going to do with it?"
"I thought I'd call David, you know, my tailor? And ask him if he knew what
shop sold these, and then I could go to the shop and—"
"Honey," Kurt said. "Just look at the tag. This thing is from Target. You're
never going to find a Target employee who remembers selling a particular ugly
tie ten years ago."
"It's ten years old?" Sam asked. That could be an important clue.
"That's just a guess. My point is..."
"No, I get your point."
"I do like seeing you on your knees, sweetie, but since I'm guessing you're not
in the mood to blow me right now, why don't we sit?" Kurt suggested. He moved
to a chair by the window, and Sam followed, pulling another chair over in front
of him. Kurt leaned forward and took Sam's hands. "Are you sure it's love?"
"I mean, I think so. I've never been in love so I don't have anything to
compare it to, but, like...what else could it be?"
"Maybe it's just that you've finally bottomed for someone besides me and you
liked it—a lot. So much that you've convinced yourself it's love when really
it's just that...you like taking it in the ass."
Sam snatched his hands back from Kurt. "That's the most ridiculous theory I've
ever heard."
"So you didn't like his cock in your ass?"
"Of course I liked it! That's not what...I only let him fuck me because I'm in
love with him."
"You 'let' him?"
"Fine. I asked him to. I wanted him to. Because I'm in love with him.
"Mm-hmm," Kurt said. He'd seen this before—guys who insisted they were strictly
tops even though it was clear they loved getting fucked—but he had never
understood it. They would be so much happier if they would just admit what they
liked.
"I'm going to find him, you know."
"Good for you."
"I'll just...I'll go on TV. And I'll lay it all out there, that I'm looking for
the man I fell in love with at the ball, and I'll ask him to come here—and he
doesn't have to say he's Darren, since that's not allowed—so that I can meet
him properly and then propose to him."
Kurt laughed at that.
"What?" Sam asked defensively.
"You don't see anything wrong with that plan?"
"Since you apparently do, why don't you tell me?"
"Well...I'm not even sure which problem is the most obvious: the fact that gay
marriage isn't even legal here—"
"It will be! Or we'll move somewhere that it is."
"O...kay. Then since you've got that one figured out, how about the problem of
all the fake Darrens you're going to have show up with hopes of marrying into
royalty?"
"Duh, you really think I hadn't thought of that? But so what? It's not like
I've never met him before. I'll know which one is the real Darren."
"How? Do I need to remind you he was in disguise?"
"He was wearing a mask, big deal. I know what his eyes look like and his cute
little butt and his hair and his—"
"You don't, though. Some of those things, maybe, but not all of them. I
disguised him more than just putting a mask on him."
"You what!?"
Kurt shrugged. "You didn't want to know who he was so I changed his looks."
"What did you change, Kurt?"
There was something about the way Sam asked him that...well, there were a few
somethings. The tone, the way it was a demand more than a question. The way
Sam's face turned red when he said it, the way his eyes turned icy. Kurt hadn't
really been planning on making things harder until that moment. He matched
Sam's steely gaze and told him, "I am not going to tell you what I changed."
"Kurt, come on! Please!"
The please softened him, just a little. That and the disappearance of the
iciness. "I'll tell you one thing I didn't change, though. I didn't change his
dick. I mean, cosmetically maybe. I won't say yes or no to that. But the shape
of it, the weight of it...get it inside your ass again and it'll feel the same.
Find the dick that fits you just right, and there's your guy."
Sam stood up. "You can't be serious."
"Have you ever known me to joke around?"
"So I'm just supposed to get every guy in the kingdom to fuck me..."
"Well, you know. You might want to start with the gay ones."
"This isn't funny, Kurt!"
"So you do think I'm joking!"
"So I'm just supposed to go on TV and say that I'm in love with a stranger from
the ball but I need him to fuck me so I can be sure it's him?"
"Yeah, I don't know that I'd recommend—"
"Cause, I mean, there'd still be the fake-Darren problem, and if I had to let
them all fuck me..."
"Plus your father would—"
"Plus my father!" Sam's father had been surprisingly okay with, well,
everything so far, but there was no way he'd be okay with that. "So what am I
supposed to do? Go to every gay bar in the kingdom?"
Kurt actually hadn't thought it through that far. He knew Blaine had never been
to a gay bar in his life, but it wasn't like he wanted to discourage any plan
Sam had that would mean him getting fucked more. (Which he was interested in
mainly for Sam's own happiness and not just because it was so hot to watch.)
"I'll leave the strategizing up to you for now," he said.
"But what about..." Sam started. But Kurt was gone. Fucking Kurt!
.
Blaine knew something was seriously wrong when the limo turned onto his street
and he saw Shelby and Jesse standing in the driveway. "Stop, stop!" he yelled
up to the driver. The driver slammed on the brakes, and of course Shelby and
Jesse turned to look. "Shit, turn around!"
The driver did what he asked, though Brittany and Santana started bombarding
him with questions. "I'm really sorry about this," he told them. "And I
appreciate the ride, but if my stepmother sees me getting out of a limo...Stop
please!" As soon as the car stopped he jumped out and ran into a neighbor's
back yard. He made his way through other neighbors' back yards until he reached
his own, the only one on the block with a fence. Naturally the gate was locked,
so he was going to have to climb over it.
He had just gotten one leg over when Shelby and Jesse came into view. "What the
hell are you doing, Blaine?" Shelby asked.
"I, uh...I just finally got rid of that raccoon."
"Animal control was supposed to do that."
"Yeah, they never showed. I decided to take matters into my own hands. They are
going to get one angry letter from me, I can tell you that."
"Ooh, a letter!" Jesse said. "That'll show 'em!"
"Why weren't you answering your phone?" Shelby asked.
"Uh...I dunno. I didn't know it was ringing. Maybe the battery died?"
"You don't even know if your phone was working? Did you ever think that maybe
animal control was trying to call? Did you even try to call them back and ask
what was taking so long? Jesus, Blaine, I ask you to do one thing and you—"
"Is that my old suit?" Jesse interrupted.
"Uh...yeah. I mean, you never wear it anymore, so..." Blaine hopped down into
the yard.
"That doesn't give you the right to wear it! Especially for chasing wild
animals around!"
"If that's even what he was doing," Shelby added. "Were you out having a sleazy
gay hookup?"
"No!" Even if it was just a hookup—although it didn't really feel like it was
just that—there was nothing sleazy about it. Not that it was any of Shelby or
Jesse's business in any case.
"You're assuming he'd even be able to score," Jesse said to his mother. "I
mean, look at him!"
"You're the one who picked out this hideous suit," Blaine muttered.
"Excuse me? I was able to pull it off. And anyway, that was in tenth grade.
Fashion has changed since then, or maybe you hadn't heard." Jesse studied the
suit. "What did you get on it?"
Blaine instinctively covered his crotch with his hands. "Nothing. I just
spilled something."
"Spilled what?" Shelby asked.
"His seed!" Jesse exclaimed. "Oh my god, he couldn't get laid so he just came
in his pants!"
"In your pants," Shelby corrected him. Turning to Blaine she said, "That's so
disgusting! What do you have to say for yourself?"
"That's not even what it is," Blaine said. "Jesus."
Jesse asked, "Then why are you blushing? Or is it piss? Did you piss yourself?
I'm not sure if that's better or worse."
"Fuck you," Blaine said, walking past both of them.
"Don't you use that language with your brother! Come back here and apologize,
Blaine! Don't walk away when I'm talking to you!"
"Fuck you too," he said, not turning around. "I have to get to work."
Shelby was stunned. She couldn't let that little brat get away with treating
her and her son this way. On the other hand if he got fired for being late,
that would be disastrous for the whole family. "Don't think we're not
discussing this further when you get home!" she shouted at his retreating back.
.
Sam's mother knocked at the door to his sitting room, even though it was
partially open. "That's nice," she said, referring to the music he'd been
playing on his guitar before she interrupted him. "I don't recognize it."
"Yeah, I was just sort of...making it up. Come in, please." He set the guitar
down and waited for his mother to sit before he did too.
"We were hoping you'd come down to lunch so we could hear about your beau."
Sam smiled a little at the word beau, but, yeah, he knew everyone would have a
lot of questions about Darren. That was why he hadn't gone to lunch.
"We'd love to meet him," the queen persisted.
"Yeah, I know. It's just that he's...shy."
"Shy?" she repeated skeptically. "He didn't seem especially shy last night."
"Well, no, but I mean..."
"What's his name?"
Sam just looked at his mother helplessly.
Lightly touching her son's forearm, Mary said, "Sammy, I know you're very fond
of him. But you must realize that we can't allow you to seriously court someone
we know nothing about. If there's something you're worried we're going to find
out about him, it would be best to tell me now."
Sam tried desperately to think of something he could tell his mother that would
satisfy her. Just making up a name seemed like a terrible idea, and he
literally couldn't think of anything else. "I don't know his name," he
confessed.
His mother looked confused. "How do you not know his name? How did you two even
meet?"
"We met last night at the ball, and..." Okay, there was no way he was going to
drag Kurt into this. Having a fairy godmother was one thing he actually had
managed to keep from his mother all these years, mainly because he knew she'd
never believe him. "...and he said he couldn't tell me his real name because it
was a masked ball, and everyone was supposed to be anonymous. And it was cute,
right? And, like, a joke, sort of. But then he left, he had to leave very
suddenly this morning, before I could get him to tell me what his real name
was."
Mary studied her son and decided she believed him. "It sounds like you want to
find him again."
"I want to find him again so much, Mother." There were tears in Sam's eyes when
he said this.
"Don't look so sad! It should be easy."
"It should?" Sam really didn't expect to hear his mother, the queen, express
the opinion that letting every gay man in the kingdom fuck him should be easy.
"Of course! Everyone who attended the ball had to sign in with the guards. They
checked IDs and everything. Just go look at the books..." Mary trailed off
because her son had already jumped up out of his chair and made a dash for the
door. He returned a second later, kissed her cheek, and then was gone again.
.
Jake wasn't in the habit of sleeping later than Prince Samuel, so when he woke
up and couldn't find him it was disorienting. Ryder was still asleep (and that
part wasn't unusual), so Jake had to go looking through the palace for the
prince. Jake just hoped he hadn't decided to leave the palace grounds without a
guard. It was strictly forbidden, but of course it wasn't the prince who would
get in trouble for doing it, it would be Jake and Ryder for letting it happen.
The prince hadn't left the grounds, it turned out. Jake found him—after looking
pretty much everywhere else first—in Sue Sylvester's office. "Your Highness!
What are you...Can I help you with something?"
"Oh, hi, Jake," Prince Samuel said, barely looking up from the book he was
looking at. "How'd you sleep?"
"Fine, thank you. You could have woken me up if you had a security concern."
Jake hated to think that the prince might have woken Sue instead. Not that
palace employees, no matter how sleep-deprived, were generally rude to the
royal family, but then the general rules didn't always seem to apply to Sue.
"No, no, not a concern." Prince Samuel looked up from the book, only to type
something into Google. He started to write something in a notebook, one that
he'd apparently written a lot of other notes in already, but then he paused to
look at Jake. "The queen is a genius, you see. She pointed out that whoever
Darren is, he must have signed in. So all I have to do is eliminate everyone
from this book who it couldn't be—the women, the men I already know, et
cetera—and then I can start tracking him down!"
"Oh." Jake felt his stomach fall.
"I mean, I know it'll mean a lot of leg work. Don't worry, I'm not going to
make you and Ryder do it all."
"No, Your Highness, it's not that. It's..." Jake debated whether he really
needed to tell the prince. It would break his heart, after all. On the other
hand, not telling him would mean sending him on a wild goose chase...and he'd
still get his heart broken. "You won't find Darren in there."
"Well, no, I know it's not his real name. That's why—"
"No, I mean...he didn't sign in at all. I...I snuck him in without checking his
ID."
Prince Samuel just stared at him. It kind of scared Jake, honestly. Jake had
seen him angry before, but almost never at him, and never this angry at anyone.
"Your Highness, I'm so sorry! I didn't think..."
The prince stood and walked out of the room.
Jake hesitated a moment, not sure whether running after Prince Samuel would
make things better or worse. He still wasn't sure when he did run after him,
but he felt like he needed to try to explain, even if it wouldn't help.
He caught up with the prince on the stairs and told him everything about Kurt
and how he hadn't let "Darren" bring an ID and insisted the whole mess was
Prince Samuel's fault. He concluded by saying, "And I'll understand if you want
to fire me, but if I'd thought you might fall in love with him..." He had to
just trail off, though, because he didn't actually know what he could have done
differently.
Sam leaned back against the railing, letting Jake's story sink in. At first all
he could think to say was, "Fucking Kurt!"
"Yes, Your Highness," Jake agreed. "So...would you like me to pack my things?"
Sam sighed. "Of course I don't want you to go, Jake. You've been with me longer
than anyone. And if you hadn't helped Kurt, it just means I wouldn't have met
Darren at all. I should be grateful—I am grateful—I just don't know what to do.
Or rather...I guess I do know what to do." It looked like it was back to the
gay bar plan.
"I'll help any way I can, Your Highness."
"It's a good thing you're not squeamish about man-on-man sex."
.
Work was busy. It always was on weekends; Hungry's had the most popular brunch
buffet in the area. Well, and one of the only ones. People who wanted a
trendier or more upscale brunch tended to live—or at least dine—closer to the
capital. Still, the one at Hungry's was good, and Blaine liked working it
because he did the omelet/eggs-to-order station, which meant he got to see a
lot more people than he did weekdays, when he was back in the kitchen for his
whole shift. Plus, of course, there were the tips. The wait staff at Hungry's
always shared their tips with the kitchen staff, but when he worked the egg
station he got tipped directly. Shelby didn't know he got tips at all. Most of
his regular wages went to household expenses, but he was saving his tip money
up for a down payment on his own house. It was still going to take a while,
though.
His buddy Dani, one of the waitresses, had been looking like she wanted to talk
to him all day. She kept walking past his station whenever she wasn't too busy,
but it always turned out to be at a time when he had a long line of people
waiting, and he could only smile at her apologetically.
He figured it was probably something about the ball. Dani had been obsessed
ever since it was announced, like with the fashion stuff, the ball gowns and
all that. Blaine liked to tease her for being the girliest lesbian he knew. Of
course she was also the only lesbian he knew...except not really anymore, since
he now sort of knew Santana and Brittany. Not that he'd be able to tell Dani
about them. It killed him not to be able to tell her he actually went to the
ball, but you just can't tell people stories that start with "So it turns out I
have a fairy godmother" and expect them to take you seriously ever again.
They didn't get a chance to talk until they were back in the kitchen when
brunch ended, and by then Dani couldn't contain herself. Grabbing both his
shoulders, she told him, "I had a table that were at the ball last night!"
"Yeah? What did they wear?"
"Shut up, Blaine, this is more important. Prince Samuel is gay!"
Blaine wasn't even acting when he looked surprised. Being at work just like a
normal Sunday had made the whole night seem so unreal, and yet...it had been
real. It had been real, and if word had already spread to Hungry's then
probably everybody knew about "Darren," or soon would.
"Did you even hear me, Blaine? I said that—"
"Danielle!" their boss yelled. He rushed over from where he'd been looking for
something in the freezer. "Don't go spreading rumors about the prince in my
restaurant! What if some of the guests heard you?"
"I heard it from some of the guests."
"That doesn't give you the right to repeat it."
"So what if he is gay?" Blaine asked.
"I don't care if he is or not. But if he is, he obviously doesn't want people
to know."
"But he was dancing with a man all night," Dani said. "And not just dancing,
from what I heard, but—"
"Exactly! From what you heard. This is exactly how rumors spread. And again,
even if it were true, the fact that none of the reputable write-ups of the ball
mentioned it should be enough to tell you that he wants it kept private."
"But—"
"Enough, Danielle! I won't allow you to say another word."
.
It was late afternoon and Jake still hadn't seen Ryder. He was on his way to
his room to make sure he was okay when he got a text from Sue: "My office.
NOW." So Ryder would have to wait another few minutes.
No sooner was he inside the office—the door hadn't even fully closed behind
him—when Sue said, "I'm going to make this brief: You're fired."
Jake laughed. Not that his boss was known for joking around about that sort of
thing, but he just couldn't believe she was serious.
"Shane will accompany you to your room to pack your things, and he will escort
you off the grounds." Jake looked at Shane, who he hadn't even noticed was
there before, but Shane didn't meet his eye. "You will speak to no one on your
way out. If you attempt to speak to anyone on the way out, or if you attempt to
contact anyone inside the palace after you're gone, you can say good-bye to
your severance pay and to any referrals for future employment elsewhere."
"But...why?"
"You intentionally circumvented palace security to sneak an unauthorized
individual into the royal ball. Do you have any idea how reckless that is? He
could have taken out any of the royal family, not to mention hundreds of
innocent citizens."
Jake felt ill. It only took him a second to realize how she knew, and then he
couldn't believe he'd been stupid enough to speak freely in the security office
when all the guards knew she had it bugged. "No, but...he just wanted to meet
the prince."
"The fact that no harm came of it is the only reason you're being merely fired
and not arrested."
"No, but Kurt promised that—"
"His name is Kurt? Kurt what?"
"No, Kurt is...Kurt is someone else. The point is—"
"We're done here." Sue signaled to Shane, who placed his hand on Jake's upper
arm.
.
Ryder had been avoiding the prince all day...which wasn't really good when you
were one of the prince's personal guards. It wasn't actually required that he
be with him all the time, not when the prince was at home and there was no one
visiting him. Still. Ryder knew he had to either get his shit together or quit
so that the prince could hire someone new who did have his shit together.
Prince Samuel summoned him after dinner. "Did Jake tell you the plan before he
headed to his room?"
"No. I haven't actually talked to Jake today."
"Oh." Sam noticed that Ryder still didn't look good. "Have you been in your
room all day? Are you all right?"
"Yeah, yeah. Just...long night last night, you know?"
"Yeah, but...I thought you slept late."
"Tried to," Ryder said. "But no, I'm fine. So what's the plan?"
"Are you sure? Jake's sick, something that came on pretty suddenly apparently.
Do you think you might have the same thing?"
"No, I don't...What's wrong with Jake?" It was weird because Jake was
practically never sick. Or even if he did have a cold or something, he just
kept working; he certainly never complained about it to Prince Samuel.
"I don't know. I got a message from Sue; she asked if she should assign someone
else temporarily. I said no and asked what was going on, but she said it wasn't
anything serious. I'm sure you and I will be okay for a couple days...as long
as you're not sick too."
"No, I'm totally fine," Ryder assured him. That is, he tried to sound as
assuring as possible. Sue's message sounded much more ominous to him than it
apparently did to Prince Samuel. But Ryder didn't want to alarm the prince when
he wasn't even sure what, if anything, was going on.
.
Shelby was beside herself. Blaine had been a pain in her ass before, but he'd
never been as openly rude and disrespectful as this morning before he left for
work. She surmised that he'd taken advantage of the lack of supervision last
night to go out for some sort of tawdry sexual encounter. That was bad enough.
The fact that the encounter had obviously gone wrong at least partially
explained his completely inappropriate outburst at her and Jesse this morning.
It was still completely inexcusable, though, as was the fact that Blaine hadn't
even attempted to apologize after he got home from work.
But that was Blaine. She didn't expect much from him, really.
Even more worrisome was the fact that Jesse had not actually left the car for
Rachel but had caused a disturbance at the ball, been taken away by some
guards, and ended up leaving Rachel stranded at the palace with no way to get
home. And then he'd lied about the whole incident, as if Shelby wouldn't learn
the truth.
Poor Rachel had called her in tears from downtown, where she'd had to walk from
the palace in her gown and high heels and then borrow a phone from a passerby.
Shelby wasn't entirely clear on what had happened to Rachel's own phone—Rachel
was crying too hard during that part of the story—but she was crystal clear on
Jesse's unforgivable betrayal.
As Blaine was setting the soup bowls on the table, Shelby told him, "Take
Rachel's up to her room for her." Glaring meaningfully at Jesse, she added,
"She's in no condition to come downstairs yet."
And then Blaine, far from being contrite for his role in how disastrous this
whole day had been, said, "No."
"I beg your pardon, young man?"
"I said no. I worked all day, unlike anyone else in this house, and I made this
dinner, and if Rachel can't be bothered to walk down the stairs to eat it, it's
her loss."
"You ungrateful little..." But Blaine wasn't even listening to her. He sat down
and started eating his soup as if Shelby hadn't said a word. "Jesse, you take
it up to her. It's your fault she's in the state she is."
"Actually," Jesse said, "for once I think Blaine is right. So she had to walk
like a mile. Big deal. She's been recovering from the 'ordeal' all day."
"Now you listen to me, Jesse. Your sister is going to be a princess, and if I
were you I'd be groveling to her for forgiveness."
Jesse hesitated for just a moment, then took Rachel's soup bowl and spoon and
headed toward the stairs.
"And as for you, Blaine," Shelby continued. "Considering that Rachel isn't even
your real sister and she has no obligation to you whatsoever, and considering
your behavior recently, I don't think even groveling will help you. With your
attitude, I don't see Rachel ever even inviting you to visit the palace...What
the hell are you smiling at?"
.
Elliott met them outside the back entrance to Starchild. "Welcome, Your
Highness! It's an honor to have you, as always."
"Thanks, Elliott. Did you make it to the ball last night? I didn't see you,
but..."
"But you had your eyes on someone else. Yes, I was there!"
"I was going to say 'but you were probably wearing a mask,' but now that you
mention it..."
Elliott was dying to know who Prince Samuel had been dancing with all night. It
was all anyone had talked about all day, even people who hadn't been to the
ball. And straight people. And straight people who hadn't been to the ball. He
couldn't just ask, but he did permit himself to inquire, "Should I make
arrangements for someone to join you later?"
"How did you...? Oh. No. There is a favor I'd like to ask you, though. Can we
go upstairs to talk?"
"Of course!" Elliott pretty much never said no when the prince suggested they
go upstairs—he kept a little one-room apartment up there, mostly to sleep in
when he was too tired to drive home at the end of a long night, but he did
sometimes use it (or rent it to bar patrons) for other purposes. He led the
prince and his guard inside and up the back staircase and checked to make sure
it was empty before letting the prince precede him inside, while the guard
waited in the hallway.
Sam looked around at the minimal but tasteful furnishings. "Something's
different," he noted.
"I got a new headboard for the bed," Elliott said.
"Oh, right!" Sam had fucked Elliott pretty vigorously last time. "Again, I
apologize for that. I hope you billed the palace."
"That's very generous, Your Highness, but not necessary. I needed a new
headboard anyway, and I had as much fun as you."
"I doubt that," Sam said, patting Elliott's cheek. "Dude, you're all stubbly."
"Some guys think it makes me look ruggedly handsome," Elliott said.
"They're right, it looks totally hot on you." Sam sat on one side of the
loveseat and motioned for Elliott to sit on the other. "Elliott, I've always
appreciated your discretion in the past."
Elliott was pretty sure he hadn't been especially discreet. He had never shared
details...well, not with any but his closest friends... and he'd never tried to
go the press or anything, not that they would report on the prince's escapades
if he had, or that they didn't already know, but discreet? He wasn't sure how
he was supposed to respond to the prince's comment, and the best he could come
up with was, "Thank you, Your Highness."
"But now I'd like to ask you to be a little...indiscreet." Elliott raised an
eyebrow questioningly, and the prince added, "Just a little."
"How so?"
Sam stood up, followed by Elliott who of course couldn't sit while the prince
stood. He hadn't really figured out how to explain his plan to Elliott,
exactly. He walked over to the window, trying to think of the right words, and
ended up blurting out, "I want you to let people know that I want to get
fucked."
"Oh!" It was literally the last thing he ever would have expected Prince Samuel
to say. "You mean...you don't just mean 'get laid,' you mean..."
"I mean I want to take it in the ass. You know, get fucked. By everyone. I
mean, men only, obviously. And, you know, preferably gay ones, though straight
ones probably wouldn't be lining up for the opportunity anyway. And only once
per customer! I mean, not customer, I'm not going to charge obviously. Once per
guy."
"Sure. Of course. Just...forgive me, Your Highness, if this is out of line,
but...can I ask why?" Prince Samuel just stared at him. But it looked more like
he was stunned by the question than infuriated by it, and so Elliott went on.
"Just...and again, I apologize for being overly familiar, but...we've known
each other for a long time, and I thought you only topped."
"Well...I got to thinking that I might be missing out."
"Okay. Sure, I can understand that. And trust me, a lot of guys will be
thrilled to show you what you've been missing out on. It's just..."
"Yes?"
"Well, again, not to be too—"
"Just say it, Elliott. Like you said, we've known each other a long time. I
wouldn't have come to you with this if I didn't feel like we could be honest
with each other."
"That man you were with last night. I kind of thought...I mean, you looked like
you were...I'm just surprised you're looking for random hookups and not
spending your time with him."
"Yeah." Sam leaned against the window sill and let his head hang down. "I'd
much rather be with him. The truth is, I don't know where he is. Don't tell
anybody that."
"Of course, Your Highness." Elliott could definitely be discreet when the
prince specifically asked him to. He wanted to clarify, though, "Don't tell
anyone that you'd rather be with him? Or that you don't know where he is?"
"Neither! I mean, I guess it's okay if you say that..." Sam really wished he'd
thought through what he wanted to say in advance. "You can say that I want to
be with him." Sam wasn't sure this was entirely a good idea, but it would be
much, much worse if the opposite and completely wrong rumor got started and
reached Darren.
"People will wonder then—and I only mention it because you asked me to be
honest—people will wonder...why you're doing this if you want to be with him."
Sam, not used to having his motivations questioned, said, "That's my concern."
"Yes, of course. I apologize if I crossed a line."
Sam considered it, though. It was probably true that people would wonder. "No,
it's all right," he said. "You don't think they'll think it's because I don't
want to be with him, do you?"
Elliott thought some people might very well come to that conclusion. But he
didn't think he could just say so to the prince, and anyway it wasn't what he
thought. He thought maybe Prince Samuel was depressed about not knowing where
the guy was. Or maybe he thought he'd find him eventually but wanted to end his
single days with a bang, or something. He answered, "Anyone who saw the two of
you together would know how in...how into each other you were."
"Yeah? He was too? I mean it wasn't just me?"
"He definitely was too, Your Highness." This was the complete truth.
"All right then," Sam said, taking his earlier seat again and motioning for
Elliott to do the same. "Let's do this."
Elliott asked hopefully, "So I get to be first?"
Sam didn't understand the question. First what? And then when he figured out
Elliott meant first to fuck him, he still didn't really understand. Why would
he want Elliott to fuck him? Elliott couldn't possibly be Darren; one of the
few things he did know about Darren was that he'd been a virgin before the
ball.
But Elliott didn't know that finding Darren was the whole point, Sam realized
suddenly.
"Your Highness?"
"Uh, it's just..." As Sam was trying to think of the best way to explain why he
didn't want Elliott to fuck him, he realized he kind of actually did want
Elliott to fuck him. Elliott was hot. And good, as Sam knew from experience.
Not that Elliott had ever topped him, of course, but if his reputation was
deserved, then Sam would probably be in for a good time. "It's just...I'm not
used to doing it this way."
Elliott chuckled. "I'm aware. If I thought you bottomed for everyone but me it
might hurt my feelings." He placed his hand on Prince Samuel's knee and then
immediately removed it. It had never been awkward between them before, but then
the prince had always made the first moves. He was the prince, after all.
Elliott was about to ask permission to touch him, when he was relieved of the
necessity of doing so by the prince climbing on top of him and unbuttoning his
shirt. Prince Samuel was the one who got them undressed and moved them to the
bed, and it was just like it usually was.
And how it usually was was incredible. Elliott generally preferred to top, but
he would have made an exception for Prince Samuel even if he had been just
regular Samuel (probably). But still. He had really, really wanted to fuck the
prince for a very long time. So it was disappointing that things were
proceeding so much in their usual way that it seemed he wasn't going to get to
after all...until Prince Samuel very suddenly detached his lips from Elliott's
balls and asked, "Do you want to rim me first?"
Yes, absolutely Elliott wanted to rim him first! So much so that he actually
forgot for a second that he was messing around with royalty and he just grabbed
Prince Samuel and flipped him onto his stomach. He was more than a little
chagrined when he realized what he'd just done, but Prince Samuel wasn't
complaining, he was spreading his legs to give him easier access. Elliott took
this to mean everything was okay, so he didn't even take the time to apologize
for his slip-up, he just settled in between the prince's legs and licked firmly
from his balls toward his hole.
Sam gasped as soon as Elliott started. He'd never felt anything like this
before: he'd only been rimmed by Kurt, and Kurt never had any hint of facial
hair. Elliott's stubble was rough and scratchy on his ass, and while it was a
shock initially, Sam found he liked it more than not. Especially the closer in
Elliott's face got, when it was way in between his ass cheeks, right up against
his most sensitive area. He liked it almost as much as he liked Elliott's
tongue circling his rim, then plunging inside, stretching him more and more
insistently.
Elliott would have gladly kept going for hours. He was an ass man, an ass man
who'd been dying to get up close to the prince's ass like this forever. And the
prince's ass did not disappoint in the least, so firm and tight, so responsive.
His Highness was moaning so loud and rutting against the mattress so hard that
Elliott sort of hoped he was going to make him come just with his mouth...as
long as he would still get to fuck him, that is. But before it got to that
point, the prince told him, "Stop! Elliott, hold on a minute."
Immediately Elliott stopped and backed up far enough that he was no longer
touching Prince Samuel. "I apologize, Your Highness! What did I—"
"No, it was great, it was just too much. Is my ass all red?"
Elliott looked. "It is, actually...Oh, God, Your Highness, I should have shaved
first, I didn't even think! I'm so, so sorry! I—"
"Babe, calm down. I was totally into it until I told you to stop."
Elliott rubbed the prince's back and the top part of his ass, the part that
wasn't red. He wasn't going to ask if he could still fuck him, he wasn't.
Asking that would be way out of line and he shouldn't even be thinking about
it. He should be thinking about how to fix the problem he'd caused. "I know
something that might help soothe that," he said hesitantly after a minute. "And
I'm not suggesting it because I still want to fuck you..."
Sam looked back in shock. "Why don't you want to fuck me anymore?"
"It's not that I don't want to! But...you're in pain."
"Pain is way too strong a word. I needed a break. I'd still like you to fuck
me."
Thank God! "Well, if that's what you want, then what I thought of could be a
two-birds kind of thing."
"Coconut oil?" Sam guessed.
"Coconut oil," Elliott confirmed. "And, as you know, I just happen to keep some
here."
Elliott applied the oil very, very gently, as if he thought Sam were a delicate
virgin all of a sudden. Sam couldn't find it insulting, though, or even
amusing, because it actually felt really good. When Elliott blew on his skin
where it had been irritated, Sam may have even sighed.
"Should I proceed, Your Highness? Or would you rather...?"
"Yeah, God, Elliott. Proceed."
Sam kind of wished he'd let Elliott do this before; he really knew what he was
doing with his fingers back there. He was taking a long time, being very
thorough, and Sam was vaguely aware that it was probably because Elliott
thought this was literally his first time taking a dick up his ass. But he
didn't clear up the apparent misapprehension, because he thought Elliott might
like the idea that he was the first guy to fuck him, but also because (okay,
mainly because) he was just really enjoying the time he was taking.
Until he needed more. When he needed more he lifted up onto his knees and
asked, "Are you ready, man?"
"Am I ready, Your Highness?" Elliott wasn't trying to be sarcastic; he was just
genuinely confused by the question. "I'm more than ready whenever you are."
"Do me."
Elliott swallowed around a big lump in his throat. Lots of men had been done by
the prince, but Elliott was going to be the first to do him. It was such an
honor and such a...such a huge responsibility, really.
He popped the tip of his dick in, just past the rim, and it felt hugely
momentous, like line-in-the-history-books momentous. He vowed not to let the
weird feeling of power he was experiencing make him do anything crazy,
especially anything that could hurt Prince Samuel. Even aside from being
royalty, Prince Samuel happened to be one of Elliott's favorite people.
Sam was a little surprised by how much he liked Elliott's cock in his ass. Like
with Kurt it was because he was literally magical. And with Darren it was
because he was in love with him. It wasn't the same with Elliott, but it was
still really, really good.
Except that Elliott was going so slowly. He could understand why Darren had
been hesitant and unsure at first, but he couldn't understand why Elliott was
being the same way now...unless it was fear of hurting Sam, which...oh yeah, it
probably was. "C'mon, man," Sam urged, "you're not gonna break me."
"I know, Your Highness," Elliott huffed (because holding back was way more
taxing right now than just going for it), "but..."
"I can take it," Sam assured him. Elliott picked up the pace a bit, but not
nearly as much as Sam wanted. "Don't make me give you a direct order, Elliott."
Elliott didn't want to ruin the prince's first time by being too rough, but he
didn't want to leave him unsatisfied by being too gentle either. And he
certainly didn't want to disobey an order, even if it was only implied. So it
was pretty great that the implied order coincided exactly with what he really
wanted to do anyway!
"Fuck yeah," Sam said when Elliott finally really slammed into him. Elliott's
cock was pounding his prostate over and over. Plus Sam's skin was still
sensitive from the stubbly rim job, which just added to the intensity. "Yeah,
God!"
This was so much like Elliott's favorite fantasy that he almost doubted it was
actually happening: the prince on his hands and knees in front of him,
screaming from the pleasure of taking his cock. The only thing needed to make
this perfect was for the prince to come before he did. Forgetting to even ask
permission first, Elliott reached around to jerk His Highness off.
Sam groaned as he felt Elliott's hand on his dick. And as soon as that hand
formed a fist he started fucking into it. He had been close to coming anyway,
so the added stimulation brought him there in no time at all, and he was
shooting his load all over himself and his friend's hand.
Elliott had been just barely holding off. As soon as he felt the prince's walls
clamping down on his dick, before he even felt the first spurt of the prince's
come, he was unloading helplessly deep inside the prince's no-longer-virginal
ass.
Sam wasn't usually much of a postcoital cuddler, but he didn't feel like moving
right away afterward, and neither did Elliott, judging from the way he was
letting his limbs lie heavily on top of Sam. It was overly familiar, but after
letting Elliott inside him, Sam couldn't be bothered to mind.
"I hope that met Your Highness's expectations," Elliott said when he'd regained
the power of speech.
"More than," Sam assured him.
***** Almost a Virgin *****
Elliott made the bed up with fresh sheets while Prince Samuel was in the
shower. As soon as the bathroom door opened he called the bartender: "I'm on my
way down with His Highness. He'll have a...Your Highness?"
"Just coffee, thanks. And have him send it up."
Elliott relayed the order and hung up. "You're not going downstairs?"
"No, why would you think that? Oh, do you need the apartment for something
else?"
"No, please, of course you're welcome for as long as you like! I just thought
you were getting cleaned up to go back out in public." Elliott hadn't even
stopped to think that he might just not like the lingering feel of come and/or
oil in his ass.
"Oh, no. Just freshening up for whoever you send up to me."
Elliott had to stifle a cough. "You'd like me to send someone else up?"
"Well, yeah. I'd like to get started with my plan right away."
"Started? You mean that..." Elliott said, gesturing to the bed where they'd
just fucked, "that wasn't the start of the plan?"
"Well...it and it wasn't. Technically it wasn't. Because technically the
plan—and I forgot to mention this part before—but technically the plan involves
guys I haven't already had sex with. Preferably virgins, in fact, or...not
quite virgins, but almost."
"Yes, Your Highness, I see," Elliott said.
"I don't think you do," Prince Samuel said, and he was completely right:
Elliott didn't see at all. But then, whether he understood or not was beside
the point. The prince went on, "See, you were just like...for fun. I mean, not
part of the plan per se, but just because I wanted to. Because I knew you'd be
awesome—which you were—and it seemed like a good idea to start with someone I
knew I could trust. Even though you weren't technically the start, more like a
bonus."
Elliott understood even less than before this supposed explanation; however, he
did understand enough to recognize the compliment in there and replied, "Thank
you, Your Highness." There was a knock at the door, and he went to get the
prince's coffee. Handing it to him, he asked, "So...you're okay to go again
already? I only ask out of concern."
"Yeah, that's nice of you. You took good care of me, so I'll be fine. And like
I said. I'm really eager to get started with the plan."
Great. So Elliott was supposed to find someone Prince Samuel hadn't already
slept with, preferably someone who was "almost" a virgin.
He went back downstairs and surveyed the crowd. It was a Sunday night, so not
very crowded, and the guys who were there were mostly regulars. Elliott was
certain the prince had already slept with at least two-thirds of them. There
was, however, one promising table with four young guys (and one young girl) who
had never been in before. If Prince Samuel had hooked up with any of them, it
hadn't been here. Elliott had no idea if any of them were "almost" virgins, but
they looked young enough and uncomfortable enough that it was definitely
possible. In fact, they looked uncomfortable enough that they might not be
gay—sometimes straight kids came in to be "edgy" (or on accident)—but that at
least was something he could find out.
He approached the table and stood by the one with the gayest hair. "Welcome to
Starchild! My name's Elliott; I'm the owner. How are you guys doing tonight?"
"Great!" the girl shouted, much louder than necessary. She was definitely a bit
buzzed. "It's Alistair's eighteenth birthday! And so we wanted to take him out
drinking since he can do it legally! Not that he ever, ever drank before
tonight," she added with an exaggerated wink.
"Wow, that calls for a round of drinks on the house!" Elliott signaled to a
waiter. "Which one is Alistair?"
They all pointed to the kid with long, reddish hair, who raised his hand shyly.
"Happy birthday!" Elliott said, giving the kid his most dazzling smile. "Thank
you for choosing Starchild to celebrate the big occasion!"
"Well, Alistair's gay," the girl said, "so..."
"Geez, Madison," Alistair said. "You don't have to just announce it like that."
"Why not? It's a gay club! And Elliott is flirting with you!"
"No, he's not!"
"I am, but I'm harmless. Next I'm gonna flirt with your friend here." He smiled
at gay-hair.
"Mason is actually straight," Madison informed him icily.
"Good thing I'm so harmless!" Elliott walked around to Alistair's chair and
held his hand out. "Come on, dance with me."
It took some cajoling, but Elliott finally got him out onto the dance floor.
"Are you and buzz-cut guy together?" he asked. Buzz-cut guy seemed to seriously
not want Alistair to dance with him.
"Spencer? Um...no. Not really."
"Okay. Good."
"Are you...look, I've never been some place like this before, and so I don't
know..."
"I'm propositioning you," Elliott said cheerfully. "But not for myself."
Alistair stopped dancing. "I'm not interested in hiring a prostitute."
"No, no, no! Nothing like that. This is a reputable establishment; I'm not a
pimp." Though he kind of felt like one at the moment. After tonight Prince
Samuel was going to have to go back to picking up his own men. "It's Prince
Samuel."
"Prince Samuel? I heard he's gay! So it's really true? I heard he comes here
sometimes! I was hoping to see him, even though it seemed so unlikely."
"He's here! He's upstairs and he wants..." Elliott dragged a hand through his
hair. "He's always topped before. And he wants to change that. You know what
I'm saying?"
"He wants...someone to top him?"
"Exactly. Lots of someones, eventually. You can be first, if you want." This
was close enough to the truth, Elliott thought.
"Really? Why me?"
"Why not? It's your birthday, right? Are you interested?"
Alistair hesitated. "Not that I don't trust you, but...I'm not going to follow
you to some secluded part of this building just because you claim that a
prince, who hasn't even seen me, wants me to...you know."
"Hmm." Elliott was a little insulted, not so much that this kid thought he
might try something, but that he thought Starchild might be the kind of place
where that kind of thing happened. Still, he supposed it was smart of the kid
to be cautious, given the unlikely-sounding offer. "Well, there's safety in
numbers, right? So ask Spencer to come meet him too. And your other friend, is
he gay? Not the one with the girlfriend, obviously."
"Madison isn't Mason's girlfriend, she's his sister. But you mean Roderick.
He's straight too."
"Just Spencer then. The prince might want to see him alone later."
While Alistair was off dancing, Mason and Madison got into one of their weird
twin conversations that no one else could follow, so Roderick was left with no
one but Spencer to talk to. Spencer knocked back his free rum and Coke, burped
loudly, and asked, "So how's your regular Coke?"
"Fine," Roderick answered. It was a Coke, what was there to say about it?
"Sure was big of you to be the designated driver. Nice, I mean. You should
still try to have a good time, though. I mean, if I'd known you were just gonna
sit there like a bump on a log I would've volunteered to drive."
"I'm fine."
"No, but I mean fucking live a little. I mean, so you haven't had anything to
drink to give you liquid courage. So what? Go ask someone to dance!"
"Um, I'm not gay." Also he didn't dance, but Spencer already knew that. It was
the whole reason he was taunting him in the first place.
"I mean, I'd dance with you, but...you know."
Madison looked up. "Did someone say dance? Yes, we should totally dance!" She
got up and dragged Mason to the dance floor, and Spencer followed without
giving Roderick a second glance. It was a relief to have him gone, but now he
looked like an idiot sitting at a big table by himself.
Spencer was hovering on the edge of the dance floor, looking for someone
unattached who he could dance with. Or maybe he could cut in and dance with
Alistair. He was Alistair's friend, not this bar guy who was way too old for
Alistair anyway, not to mention only being nice to entice them all to spend
more money. Then again, Spencer didn't want to look needy or anything by trying
to cut in. Maybe he'd just go to the bar for another drink; he could probably
make it look like that's where he was headed all along.
He was still trying to get the bartender's attention when Alistair came up
behind him and grabbed his shoulder, and that was so much better than him going
to Alistair; he was so glad he'd decided to play it cool. But Alistair was
clearly drunk—clearly really, really drunk, or maybe Elliott had slipped
something stronger than alcohol—because he seemed to be convinced that Prince
Samuel was just dying for the two of them to fuck him.
"Babe, I've heard the rumors about Prince Samuel too. If they're true, though,
you also know that he only tops."
"No, but—"
"I can be your prince if you want. I'll even be a prince who lets you top, if
that's what you want."
Alistair took a step back. "I thought you said you were a top."
Spencer had said that, yeah. And it was true, he'd only ever topped. All two
times he'd done anal. The truth was he had no idea idea if he would like
bottoming or not. But he wanted more with Alistair than their one attempt,
weeks ago, at oral, and if that meant bottoming, then he was more than willing
to give it a shot. But he couldn't say all this. Alistair was under the
impression that he was a lot more experienced than he was, for one thing, and
probably would lose all interest if he learned the truth. So he just winked and
said, "Yeah, but you're the birthday boy."
Alistair was about to respond when Elliott showed up, draped an arm around him,
and asked, "So is your friend in or not? His Highness doesn't like to be kept
waiting, so if you two aren't interested..."
"We are!" Alistair said. "We are, right, Spencer?"
"Uh. Yeah."
They got ushered up some back staircase, and there was a little hallway with a
big, broad-shouldered dude just standing there. The dude looked them up and
down and looked like he was about to say something when this door opened and
there he was—it was actually Prince Samuel! He smiled at them, and Spencer and
Alistair both bowed awkwardly when Elliott presented them. The prince shook
both their hands and said, "It's one at a time, I'm afraid."
"Of course, Your Highness," Elliott said. "They just wanted to meet you
together. Alistair is the one who, well, it's his birthday."
"Oh, happy birthday!" Prince Samuel said, laying his hand on Alistair's
shoulder.
"Thank you, Your Highness." Alistair was beaming.
"Come on in. Spencer, maybe later?"
.
Once they were back downstairs, Spencer headed straight for the bar, while
Elliott spotted this guy named Dustin Goolsby sitting alone at a table near the
stage and decided to join him for a minute.
"Have you got good news for me?" Dustin asked before Elliott was even in his
chair.
"You know I never know when she's going to show up."
Dustin sighed. "Yeah, I know. My boss is just on me so hard..." He trailed off
because Elliott knew all this already. Ever since Unique had hit it so big,
record companies were dying to sign someone just like her. The problem was that
some of the less intellectually gifted executives, Dustin's boss included,
thought this meant drag queens. Unique explained in basically every interview
she ever gave that while drag queens were great, what she was was different.
Dustin pointed this out too, but to no avail. So...here he was looking for a
drag queen to sign. There was a great one—probably the only commercially viable
drag queen in the kingdom— who was known to sometimes (but unpredictably) show
up and give impromptu performances at Starchild. She'd turned Dustin down flat
several times already, but he was prepared to make a very generous offer next
time. If there was a next time.
"How's the elusive David?" Elliott asked. He wasn't sure Dustin's supposed
boyfriend actually existed. "Are you ever going to bring him here?"
"Nah, he hates bars. No offense. But he's good. We're 'pre-engaged' now." He
told Elliott about the mutual pre-proposal at the ball last night.
"Hey, congratulations!" Elliott said, clasping his shoulder. "If your pre-
fiancé didn't hate bars I'd suggest you have the ceremony here."
"Yeah, well, even if he didn't hate them all the time, he's pretty traditional,
so..."
"Yeah, that's a shame. If he were a little more liberal I'd have the perfect
pre-wedding gift for you guys."
Dustin listened, flabbergasted, as Elliott described the prince's plan. "I'm
in!" he said. "David won't be interested—he's the prince's tailor and he would
be worried it would hurt their professional relationship—but I'm definitely
in."
"Really?" He hadn't expected Dustin to actually be interested. He never flirted
with anyone at Starchild, so Elliott thought either he really was in an
exclusive relationship or he claimed to be so he could avoid having to explain
why he was celibate. "David won't mind?"
"We actually talked about this specifically. It was mostly hypothetical at the
time, of course, but still, we specifically talked about how if the opportunity
to sleep with Prince Samuel arose, it would be okay to take it. For me, that
is. I'd let him too, if he wanted, but, you know, the professional
relationship...I mean, he actually turned the prince down, a few years ago."
"No shit? Wow." Elliott hardly ever heard of anyone turning the prince down.
"Well, nice that he's cool about it for you, though." Dustin had to be at least
in his mid-thirties, and it was unlikely he was almost a virgin.
Unless...well...maybe he and David had been exclusive for a really long time.
That might count, right? Maybe what counted wasn't the number of times he'd
done it but the number of partners he'd had. Or maybe there was no David and he
was celibate but willing to make an exception. Who wouldn't, for Prince Samuel?
Anyway, screening guys for almost-virginity wasn't really something Elliott was
on board with, and Prince Samuel could always turn down anyone he chose.
"Great. So I'll introduce you after the guy who's next in line."
.
Before Prince Samuel could just let Alistair into the apartment, Ryder reminded
him that he needed to pat him down and check his ID. "Right!" the prince said.
"Yeah! Can you imagine if we found him and still didn't know who he really
was?"
"That would be tragic, Your Highness." To Alistair he said, "Hold your arms
out, please, and spread your legs." The kid didn't have anything on him but
some keys, a wallet, and a cellphone. His ID checked out, and it really was his
birthday. He didn't look much like Darren, but then Kurt could have changed
anything—maybe everything—about his looks. Ryder cleared him to go in,
pocketing the cellphone first and informing him that he could have it back when
he left.
Prince Samuel led Alistair into the middle of the room and then just stood
there, staring into his eyes. "You're taller," he said finally.
"Taller, Your Highness?"
"Not that it means anything that you're taller now. You probably can't give me
any clues, can you?"
Alistair had no idea what the prince was asking him, much less how to respond.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I—"
"Yeah, no. It's fine." Sam didn't get that "Darren" feeling from this guy. But
then, Darren wouldn't be allowed to give him any clues, right? So what did Sam
expect? Kurt had told him the only way to know was how the guy's dick felt in
his ass. "We should just start, right?"
"Yes, of course." The only problem was that Alistair had never done this
before. Blowjobs and stuff, but nothing penetrative. "I should probably warn
you that I've—"
"No clues!" Sam insisted. He didn't know what Kurt would do to Darren if he
heard him breaking the rules. If this was Darren. He kind of knew it was
improbable that he'd find Darren on the first try, but...well, he had to find
him sooner or later, right? And the first guy was as likely as any other guy to
be him.
Again, Alistair didn't understand what the prince meant by clues. But it was
clear that he was adamant about not wanting Alistair to tell him any, so it
seemed like the best way to avoid this was to just stop talking altogether. He
shut his mouth and nodded.
Sam stepped closer and kissed him. His kiss was nice, but it didn't feel like
Darren's kiss; his mouth didn't taste like Darren's mouth. But Darren's mouth
wasn't the gold standard. He unbuttoned Alistair's shirt and pants and led him
to the bed. "Take them off," he said.
Alistair shucked off his shirt easily enough, but by the time he got to his
pants, the intense way the prince was staring at his crotch had him feeling
kind of weird.
The kid was hesitating; he must be shy. He was shy! This was so great: Darren
had been shy! Well, at first. Maybe he wouldn't be now, since they'd
already...Fuck, Sam had to stop overthinking and just get this guy's dick
inside him. He sat on the edge of the bed and pushed Alistair's pants down
himself, followed immediately by his underwear.
Alistair's dick was...it didn't look like Darren's. The pubes, obviously, were
a different color, but it wasn't just that. His cock itself was a little
pinker, not quite as thick. But none of that meant anything. Kurt said he had
changed the appearance. No, wait, he said he may have changed the appearance.
Which meant Sam didn't technically know but should assume he had.
.
Ryder was really worried about Jake. He'd called him as soon as Prince Samuel
and Mr. Gilbert had gone into the apartment, and Sue had answered. She wouldn't
tell him anything other than that she was forwarding Jake's calls to herself
because he was "sick," and Ryder knew something was up. The worst part was that
there was nothing he could do about it, at least until he could get his hands
on a different phone—Sue saw all the calls the guards made on their palace-
issued ones.
As soon as this Alistair kid was inside with the prince, Ryder used his phone
to call Jake's brother. "You're not calling from your own phone, are you?" was
the first thing Jake asked when he picked up.
"How stupid do you think I am?" Quietly he asked, "Is it bad?"
"I didn't drop by Noah's just to shoot the shit."
"What happened?"
"Sue fired me for letting Darren into the ball without an ID."
"Wait, so this is Darren's fault!?"
"No, not Darren's. If anything it's Kurt's. And of course my own for not—"
"Fucking Darren!"
"Hey! Don't let His Highness hear you say that. He's in love with the guy."
"In love," Ryder spat. "Only because he has no idea what this guy's deal is."
"Ryder? Be careful, man."
.
Sam pulled Alistair closer, put his face right up in his crotch, and gave his
cock an experimental lick.
He didn't think...no, he was sure this guy didn't smell or taste like Darren.
Not that he would have been able to articulate what it was, exactly, that
Darren had smelled and tasted like. Just...not the same as Alistair. About a
million times better, for one thing.
Obviously, this was disappointing.
But he wasn't sure he should give up hope yet. Kurt had said he would know by
getting the guy's cock in his ass. That was the only way he could be sure.
True, Kurt had just said he might have changed what it looked like, but...Or,
wait. He had actually said that he might have disguised it cosmetically. And
cosmetics...like, was perfume a cosmetic? Sam wasn't sure. But he was pretty
sure that some of the stuff Quinn used, even the stuff that wasn't specifically
perfume, had a scent. So Kurt could have made it smell different. And the
smell, of course, would affect the taste too.
Alistair hadn't expected to get a blowjob from the prince. So it wasn't like he
would complain about how Prince Samuel was blowing him. It was just...it wasn't
like he'd received tons of top-notch blowjobs in his life, so maybe he was way
off on this, but it felt pretty weird. Kind of like being prodded. This wasn't
to say it didn't feel good, because it did, and it got him hard quickly. But it
was still weird.
Once Alistair was hard, Sam pulled him onto the bed and maneuvered him onto his
back. He stood and quickly removed his own clothes. He had already slicked
himself up again after his shower, but he grabbed the coconut oil and coated
Alistair's dick with some, even though it wasn't strictly necessary.
Okay, wow. Prince Samuel was rubbing something onto Alistair's cock. Lube, he
guessed, although he wouldn't have expected it to feel oily or smell fruity.
Maybe it was, like, something edible. Maybe the blowjob was about to get even
weirder. But, no, the prince was straddling him now. It looked like he was just
going to lower himself onto...Wasn't there supposed to be some stretching or
fingering or something first? Alistair was almost sure he had read about that.
And the lube, wasn't it supposed to go on the receptive partner? What the hell
was happening?
But oh, oh! Apparently nothing else was actually necessary, because the prince
was just lowering himself, just sinking down on Alistair's cock, and it felt
plenty slippery, and tight but not too tight, and so warm and just...just, God.
.
Spencer couldn't believe he was maybe going to get to fuck Prince Samuel
tonight. He kind of didn't believe it, actually. But, weirdly, he didn't have
that much trouble believing that Alistair was going to get to. Was, perhaps,
fucking the prince right now.
And he knew it was something that shouldn't bother him because...well, they
weren't even a couple, him and Alistair. And even if they were a couple, what
kind of asshole would object to his boyfriend taking the once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity to fuck the world's hottest prince? Especially when he was (maybe)
going to get to do the same thing later? So he wasn't bothered. He was
just...antsy, for unknown reasons. It was the anticipation, probably. He went
to get a drink or two while he waited for Alistair to return.
Roderick, meanwhile, was seriously thinking about leaving. Spencer was drinking
at the bar rather than at the table with him, which...he didn't like Spencer
either, so it wasn't like he was pining for his company, but it was still kind
of a dickish thing to do. Madison had roped some gay guy into dancing with her,
and some other gay guy had roped Mason into dancing with him. The birthday boy,
the one friend they all had in common and the reason they were all here, was
nowhere to be seen. Roderick thought he really should just go, just walk out
without saying a word to any of them; in fact, he actually might.
Okay, he wouldn't actually. He didn't like conflict, and if he walked out on
them tonight, leaving everybody without rides home, they'd probably yell at him
tomorrow at school. Nonetheless, it was somewhat satisfying to imagine leaving
them all there...until he wondered how long it would take them to notice and
realized it might be a long time, like hours even.
So he was about to leave after all—not for good, but just to get a book out of
his car—when he saw the absolute last person he expected to see tonight walk in
the front door. He barely recognized her. He hadn't seen her in a few years,
and never so...Usually she was just dressed normally, like jeans and a sweater
or something, but now she was wearing this, like, sparkly dress and tons of
jewelry and makeup and stuff. He would have assumed it was just someone with an
uncanny resemblance, except someone at the table next to his squealed and
exclaimed, "It's Mercedes!"
She walked right past his table, and he gave her a little nod. She did a
double-take and stopped dead in her tracks, but just for a split second before
gliding into the chair next to his. "Boo, I've been meaning to touch base with
you. How you doing, baby?"
"Well," Roderick said, "you know."
"Yeah, I know." She took his hand and patted it. "I'm gonna help you out. I
need you to do something, though. Don't tell anyone who I really am."
"No, of course not!" Roderick said. No one was going to believe he had a fairy
godmother anyway.
"I mean don't say anything about what you know about me. Some folks here—I
never told them I am what they think I am, but it amuses me to let them think
it. You got me?"
"Um. No."
"Don't worry, babe. Just don't correct anyone." And she kissed him on the cheek
and strutted toward the stage at the front of the room.
.
Sam lowered himself slowly, haltingly, until Alistair's cock was fully inside
him. Bottoming for a stranger wasn't that weird, he guessed, maybe because he
was physically on top. The dick in his ass felt good, even. But it didn't feel
like...
Maybe he had to move before he could be sure...
Alistair gasped as the prince rolled his hips, rocking himself back and forth
on his dick. It was so good, so perfect. Until Prince Samuel stopped moving,
looked down at him sadly, and said, "You're not Darren."
"No, Your Highness. My name's Alistair."
"Right." Sam knew he shouldn't be so disappointed. He'd known that finding
Darren right away was a long shot. All he could do was keep trying. He was
about to get off the kid, thank him for his time and send him on his way, when
he noticed the desperate look on his face. It would be kind of a dick move to
just leave him like this. He rolled his hips again and asked, "You good like
this? Or you want to get on top?"
"This is good, Your Highness. So, so good." It was too, it was the best thing
ever. For a second there Alistair had been worried that...but never mind, it
was back to being so, so good. He kind of didn't believe what everyone said
about the prince usually topping, because the way he was moving was so exactly
right, you'd think it would take a lot of practice. Alistair didn't even have
to do anything, he just had to lie there while Prince Samuel's hot, snug
channel expertly gripped and tugged at his cock. Way, way too soon he knew it
was about to end, and he just barely had the presence of mind to warn the
prince, "Your Highness, I think I'm—"
"Yeah, come in my ass," the prince told him, and if there'd been any chance
before of him not doing exactly that right then...well, now there wasn't.
He gripped Prince Samuel's hips tightly and thrust up into him instinctively.
"Oh God oh God oh God," he whispered as he felt his balls tighten and release.
"Yeah, there you go," Sam said as he felt the boy shudder and tremble under
him. It had just started getting really good for him, but that was okay, this
wasn't about him getting off. He rubbed Alistair's chest while he caught his
breath. "There you go. Thanks."
Alistair laughed. He didn't mean to, but... "I'm pretty sure I should be
thanking you, Your Highness."
"It was my pleasure."
"But it wasn't! I mean, I can't help but notice, Your Highness, that you're
still hard. Would you like to...switch places? Or...or I could suck you?"
"Thank you, but it's all right."
"I mean, I'd really, really like to! If you'd let me."
Well...why not? Sam was already hard and naked, and he didn't doubt that the
kid would really, really like to do it. He climbed off, rolled onto his back,
and signaled his permission. Alistair lunged, sucked the whole cock into his
mouth all at once. What he lacked in skill he more than made up for in
enthusiasm—something Sam gave him extra points for, considering he'd just come.
Alistair had recently discovered he really liked blowing guys—even ordinary
guys who weren't royalty. And Prince Samuel, even aside from being royalty, he
had this amazing dick. Alistair had always assumed it couldn't possibly look as
perfect as the rest of the prince did, but he was wrong. And as good as it
looked, it felt and tasted even better in his mouth: warm and thick and meaty,
clean but not soapy. He really wanted to find out what His Highness's jizz
tasted like. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that the sooner he got
to taste it, the sooner all this would be over and he'd have to leave. But he
wasn't really thinking about it rationally, he just wanted it so bad that he
went after it with all he had.
Sam let Alistair suck and suck until he found himself thrusting up into his
mouth. He tried not to do it too hard. If it had been Kurt or Elliott
or...well, someone he didn't know to be just barely eighteen, he might have
changed their positions and fucked the guy's face. As it was he just clutched
at the sheets—not at Alistair, in case he wanted to move away at the last
minute—and warned him, "You're gonna make me come."
Alistair felt his own dick get hard again at those words, at the realization
that he was actually about to make Prince Samuel come. As much as he suddenly
needed to, he didn't touch himself, though; he kept his attention—and his hands
and mouth—completely focused on the prince's dick, and he was rewarded with a
spurt of hot, thick spunk hitting the roof of his mouth, followed by another,
and then a third. It tasted as amazing as he'd imagined, creamy and savory, and
he almost hated to swallow because he knew he'd probably never get another
taste.
.
The lights suddenly went low, and the music cut out right in the middle of
"Lady Marmalade." Everyone who'd been dancing stopped and looked around until a
spotlight found Mercedes; it followed her as she made her way onto the stage,
where she stood perfectly still while the DJ played "Also Sprach Zarathustra."
The lights came up a bit, the music to "I'm Coming Out" came on, and she
launched into it. The DJ started some other music right after, but she stood
behind him and said something in his ear, and he switched to "I Want to Break
Free" instead. She summoned Roderick up onto the stage with her and invited him
to sing the lead.
Roderick hesitated. He was shy about singing in front of people for some
reason, which Mercedes had very little patience for, and she ordered him, "Just
sing your damn heart out!"
He did it, bless him. Apparently he worked well under pressure, which Mercedes
hadn't had any reason to expect, and he killed it. Mercedes knew the boy could
sing, but this was the best she'd ever heard him. It helped that he had her as
backup, of course, but she couldn't take more than a tiny bit of credit. She
hadn't even used any magic. Honestly she didn't like to use magic—it was
seriously draining—and she avoided it whenever possible.
Spencer stood there staring, not realizing that his mouth was agape. But it was
almost too much to take. That was Roderick up on stage singing with some drag
queen. And, like, the dude could fucking sing. What the fuck? So Alistair was
getting laid by royalty, Roderick turned out to be an amazing singer, and
Madison and Mason—a straight dude and a chick—were getting asked to dance by
way more gay guys than he was, i.e., zero. Great. Just fucking great. And
Alistair had been gone a super long time, which probably meant Prince Samuel
had taken a liking to him (who wouldn't?), which probably meant Spencer wasn't
going to get to fuck either of them. Ever. He ordered another drink.
The standing ovation was still going on when Mercedes grabbed Roderick by the
wrist and led him to the table of that record company guy who kept pestering
her. He kissed her cheeks and gushed over her performance, just like he always
did. He also introduced himself to Roderick and complimented his performance
too—not as effusively, but still with genuine enthusiasm. He invited them to
join him at his table and called over a waiter for more drinks. "Roderick,
maybe you can sing back-up on one of Mercedes's tracks when I finally get her
to sign with me," he said. "Or even a duet."
"You know I'm not interested in signing any contracts, baby. But maybe I can
sing back-up on one of Roderick's tracks when you get him to sign with you,"
Mercedes said pointedly.
Record company guy hesitated, studying them both carefully. "Or even a duet?"
he asked.
This time it was Mercedes who hesitated a moment before answering, "Roderick
and I do sound amazing together."
Record company guy tapped his fingers nervously on the table for a minute. "I
can't just sign someone I've only heard once," he said, more to Mercedes than
to Roderick. "But if you come to the studio tomorrow—both of you—and let me
hear some more, I think we can talk." He handed Roderick a business card.
"Really?" Roderick said. "Are you serious? This is so...wait, I have school
tomorrow, though."
Record company guy—Dustin Goolsby, the card said—smiled at him with just a
touch of condescension and said, "That's okay. I'll wait until after your
classes."
.
Spencer had pretty much resigned himself to getting smashed by himself at the
bar when the club owner placed a hand on his shoulder and asked if he was still
interested in fucking the prince. That's exactly how he asked, too. "Are you
still interested in fucking the prince?"
"Fuck yeah!" Spencer said, slamming his glass down. It wasn't empty and it
sloshed, but the glass itself did not break, which was all the evidence Spencer
needed that he was not too drunk and that this was a good idea.
Elliott—that was the owner's name, Elliott!—Elliott led him up the stairs again
and left him with the guy with the big shoulders. "I need to see your ID,
please," the guy said.
"I showed it on my way in," Spencer objected.
"But now I have to see it. Unless you don't want to see His Highness that
badly."
"This is so stupid," Spencer muttered, but he dug into his pocket for the ID
he'd shown at the door.
The guy took one look at it and said, "This is pretty good as fake IDs go,
'Marshall.' But if you want to see Prince Samuel I'm going to have to see your
real one."
Spencer grabbed the ID back and looked at himself. It was a really good fake
ID! It had gotten him into Starchild, after all, and into other bars before
tonight. There was no way this guy could tell; he must just be bluffing. "What
are you talking about? This is totally legit."
Ryder shrugged and said, "I'm not the underage drinking police, but I am the
prince's personal guard. So you can either show me your real ID or I can call
the cops and have you removed from the premises."
Spencer wondered if he should just run. But he really wanted to fuck Prince
Samuel, and it sounded like the guard might still let him if he showed his real
ID. He reluctantly handed it over. "Spencer Porter," the guard read out loud.
"Oh hey, you'll be eighteen in just eight months." He returned the real ID and
took the fake one back and stuck it in his pocket. Then he patted Spencer down
and took his cell phone too, though he said he could have that back after, and
knocked on the door. The prince himself answered, and the guard presented him.
Prince Samuel wrapped his arm around Spencer's waist and led him into the
apartment. "How are you doing tonight?"
How was he doing? It was the weirdest night, and he wasn't thinking that
clearly anyway thanks to the...four? five? drinks he'd had, and he didn't know
how to answer and he blurted out, "You bent over for Alistair and let him fuck
you, didn't you?"
Sam let his arm drop off the kid's waist and took a step back. "Is there a
problem?"
"No. I mean, I'm not used to getting sloppy seconds, but you are the prince,
after all, so..."
"Yeah. I am. Why don't you get down on your knees."
Spencer should just run. Kneeling—that wasn't a normal protocol thing that you
had to do for royalty. Except...if you wanted to fuck them and they told you
to, then you probably did have to. And he did still want to. Especially,
actually, if the prince might have some of Alistair's jizz still inside his
ass. Face burning, he dropped to his knees and looked down at the floor.
Sam walked slowly around the kneeling boy. He should just kick him out right
now. He was hot and everything, but there was pretty much no way he could be
Darren, unless Kurt had given him a complete personality overhaul for the ball.
And if that was the case, if this was the real Darren in front of him now, then
Sam wasn't in love with the real Darren, only the fake one from last night.
So, yeah. He would tell him to leave and move on to whoever Elliott had lined
up for him next. He stood in front of the kid and said, "Look at me." And
Spencer did, and there was a tear running down his cheek, and Sam had to
rethink everything. Could the real Darren have said something so crude and
disrespectful to him, out of jealousy maybe? Out of not being able to stand the
thought of Sam with someone else, and not having any way of knowing that it was
only to find him again? And if it was Darren...Darren didn't have to show him
the same kind of deference most people did. Darren got to call him Sam, after
all, and practically no one got to do that.
He noticed the kid wobble a little. "Have you been drinking, Spencer?"
"A little, Your Highness. I mean, this is a bar, right?"
Okay. Jealousy plus drinking. This could plausibly still be Darren. If it was,
Sam could only hope he'd be able to understand about Alistair. "Do you still
want to do this?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Then stand up and take off your clothes."
Spencer stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt, and Sam turned around,
deciding not to watch him undress. What would be the point? He wouldn't be able
to tell anything from looking. Well, except Spencer was hot, which would make
looking worthwhile even if it didn't provide him with any useful information.
He quickly shed his own clothes and turned around again, in time to see Spencer
stepping out of his boxers. And yeah, without making any comparisons between
what he saw before him now and what Darren looked like, he'd have to say that
what he saw before him now was very nice. Not quite hard yet, but that could be
fixed. "Here, let me..." he said, hand outstretched.
"I can do it!" Spencer insisted, turning away from the prince and jerking
himself furiously. The last thing he wanted was for Prince Samuel to think that
he couldn't even get it up. Why wouldn't he be able to get it up? He wasn't,
like, falling-down drunk or anything. Prince Samuel was more than hot enough.
And it wasn't like the prince was going to be mentally comparing him to
Alistair and finding him less satisfactory. Was he? How good was Alistair? He'd
been dying to know forever. He gave an amazing blowjob, that was for sure. God,
that had been...oh, look! He was hard now! "Condoms?" he asked. "Lube?"
"We don't need them," Prince Samuel said.
"Oh my God," Spencer said. So the prince's ass was still slick with Alistair's
come. Fuck. Prince Samuel was such a slut. He probably got off on random
strangers using him; probably when he made Spencer get on his knees he was
secretly wishing it were the other way around.
The prince was standing near the wall. Spencer spun him around and pushed him
forward so he was leaning against it. Before he could lose his nerve, he
positioned himself behind His so-called Highness and shoved his dick up his ass
in one go.
Sam lurched forward. "Fuck!" He wasn't expecting the kid to just slam it in
so—fuck—so abruptly. He tried to concentrate on Spencer's dick. Which you'd
think would be easy, since it was so far up his ass it was practically in his
throat. But of course what he was trying to concentrate on was whether it felt
at all the same way Darren's had. What Spencer was doing to him was so
different from what Darren had done. Probably that it itself proved this wasn't
Darren. But he wanted to be sure, he didn't want to run the risk of letting
Darren get away again, so he tried to imagine, like, if Darren were fucking him
this way, how would it feel?
Spencer was actually giving it to the prince in the ass. Like, for real. He
felt like pretty much the biggest stud ever. And he wasn't going to think about
Alistair doing the same thing, and he certainly wasn't going to think about
whether Alistair had done it better, because if he worried about that he just
might lose his hard-on, and the way to avoid losing his hard-on was to fuck the
slut in front of him as hard and as fast as he possibly could.
Even trying to give Spencer every possible benefit of the doubt, Sam soon
knew...he knew that Darren would never fuck him like this. Rough was one thing,
but this was something different. This felt aggressive, and even if Darren
might be upset about Alistair, and even if he was drunk, he wouldn't fuck Sam
like this. "Okay," he said, as Spencer slammed into him again. "That's enough."
"Oh, I can do more," Spencer assured him. "You want it harder?"
"No, I said—"
"Shut up and take it," Spencer snapped, and he held the prince's wrists against
the wall as he fucked him with all his strength.
Ryder heard a brief scuffle and then Prince Samuel calling his name. He ran
into the room to find the naked prince holding the equally naked Spencer face-
first against the wall, wrists crossed behind his back. He stepped in to hold
the guy and asked, "What happened?"
"I thought he wanted it—"
"Not you!" Ryder said. "Your Highness, are you all right?"
"Our friend Spencer here got a little carried away," Sam said, rubbing at his
own wrists. "Remind me to thank Sue for the years of self-defense training."
He'd never had occasion to use it before tonight.
Ryder held Spencer's arms behind him just a little more roughly than was
strictly necessary; he had to use all his self-restraint not to be a lot
rougher than necessary. Prince Samuel told him what had happened while he got
dressed, Spencer interrupting frequently to say he thought the prince wanted it
rough.
It sucked not having Jake here. If Jake were here, one of them could watch
Spencer while the other talked privately to the prince. But since that wasn't
going to happen...well, Spencer probably wouldn't try to leave via the fire
escape, especially without his clothes. And if he did...it might not actually
make much difference. Ryder had a feeling he was going to end up letting him go
anyway.
He moved Spencer into the bathroom and told him to wait there. It would be nice
if the kid would get the bright idea to take a shower to wash away DNA evidence
or something, which would not only keep him busy but also make it harder for
him to overhear. Ryder then grabbed the kid's clothes and asked the prince if
they could speak outside in the hallway.
"Your Highness," he said softly (because he couldn't count on Spencer turning
the shower on or even on him staying in the bathroom rather than listening at
the door), "was it assault? If he assaulted you I will call the police."
"Mmm...I'm not sure I'd call it assault..."
"If you're really not sure...If it was, like I said, I'll call the police. But
if it wasn't...I don't want to tell you anything you don't want to know,
but...but you know that thing you never want to know about?"
It took Sam a moment to realize what Ryder was talking about, in part because
Ryder and Jake had been so great about not bringing it to his attention when...
The age of consent was eighteen. But if Sam didn't know some guy he was hooking
up with was only sixteen or seventeen...
It would be a decent legal defense for Sam, should any indiscretion ever be
discovered. The legal position of a guard who did know, however, might be more
questionable. "It wasn't assault," Sam said decisively. "He was out of line,
but not criminally."
Ryder nodded gratefully. He didn't want to thank the prince out loud, because
he'd already alluded too much to things that were supposed to go unspoken. "Are
you hurt?"
"No. No more than some mornings after I've been with Kurt. It took me by
surprise more than anything. I'm fine."
"I'll have your doctor swing by to be sure."
"Ryder," Prince Samuel said, placing his hands on Ryder's shoulders and looking
in his eyes, "I'm completely fine."
"I'm glad, Your Highness. But I'm calling her anyway. Shall I summon her here,
or..."
Prince Samuel sighed. "To the palace," he said. "I think I'm done here for the
night."
***** Super Gay *****
Blaine had to get up early Monday to make breakfast for Jesse and Rachel. Their
original plan had been to go back to school Sunday evening, but Rachel had been
too rattled after being abandoned at the palace, so they were driving up early
today instead.
Once they were gone, Shelby announced she was going back to bed and left Blaine
alone in the kitchen to clean up. While he was loading the dishwasher he looked
out the window and saw something moving in the garden. Could it be a raccoon?
Could Kurt have sent it as a signal to him? He ran outside, letting a coffee
mug crash to the floor behind him.
It was a raccoon! He saw it climb up the fence and into the neighbor's yard.
"Kurt?" he called. There was just enough daylight that he could see Kurt was
nowhere in his own yard, so he climbed over the fence into the neighbor's.
"Kurt?"
Suddenly the porch light went on and his neighbor was standing there in her
nightgown. "Blaine? What are you doing here?"
"Oh. Hi, Ms. Doosenbury. I was just...I saw a raccoon."
"And you named him Kurt?"
"What? No! I didn't say 'Kurt.' I said, 'Get!' As in, 'Go on, you stupid
raccoon, get out of Ms. Doosenbury's yard!'"
"Mm-hmm."
"So...he seems to be gone now—or she, I don't really know how you can tell with
raccoons—so I'll just..."
"Blaine. I know you're gay, and I don't care. And I know how your mom is. But
you can't use my yard for hookups."
"No! I would never..."
"Go home now, Blaine."
So Blaine went home. Kurt wasn't around, and what he'd seen was apparently just
a regular raccoon, just going about its regular raccoon business. Blaine went
back into the kitchen, dug the remains of Rachel's gluten-free muffin out of
the trash, and took them outside to leave in the garden for the little guy. Or
little gal. He went back in again, cleaned up the coffee mug shards, finished
loading the dishwasher, and then he found himself, oddly, with nothing
particular he had to do.
It was so quiet in the house, and kind of beautiful in the early morning light.
He wished Sam were there to share it with him. He felt Sam's absence like an
actual physical emptiness inside him.
It was ridiculous, he was being ridiculous, he told himself. Such a drama
queen! He was starting to remind himself of Rachel, Jesus.
To kill some time before he had to get ready for work, he went online. He ended
up reading a bunch of accounts of the royal ball. And they were all totally
accurate about stuff like the music and the décor, but not one of them
mentioned him. Like, there was something about Princess Beth's surprise
appearance, but it only said that she cut in on Prince Samuel "and his unknown
masked dance partner" and then implied (but didn't actually say) that it was
Prince Samuel she danced with.
He went upstairs to take a shower, but found himself crawling back into bed
instead.
Kurt wasn't coming back to help him again.
Prince Samuel wanted to cover up the fact that they'd ever even danced
together.
Blaine would never see him again.
He covered his head with the blankets and he held the pillow to him, wishing he
could be holding Sam again, even just once, even just long enough to say a
proper good-bye. But that would never happen, and it made him cry.
.
"Lady Brittany! What a pleasant surprise!"
Brittany hugged the housekeeper. "Donna, it's good to see you! When are you
coming to have dinner with me and Santana?"
"When His Grace gives me a night off."
Brittany rolled her eyes. "I'll talk to him. Is he here?"
"He's at breakfast. Go right in."
Brittany made her way to the breakfast room and saw him standing with his back
to her. "Daddy!" she shouted, startling the duke into spilling his coffee.
He was smiling when he turned to her, though. "Dumpling! What brings you by?"
"Give Donna a night off some time this week so she can have dinner with me and
Santana."
Her father frowned a little at that. "You know I don't personally oversee the
servants' schedules. And of course Donna is free to do whatever she wants on
her nights off, but you know I don't think it's a good idea for you to be
socializing with the help."
"I know you don't, Daddy. But I like her. And you can totally give her an extra
night off any time you feel like it."
The duke sighed. "Fine. Call my secretary."
"Thank you, Daddy!" Brittany wrapped her arms around her father and kissed his
cheek. She sat and took an orange from a bowl on the table.
The duke poured himself some more coffee and sat across from her. "How are
things at Paws-itively 4th Street? Do you need some more publicity?"
"That would be great, Daddy! Thank you!" Paws-itively was the cat rescue
organization she ran. It was actually located on Fourth Street, so the name was
inevitable. She started peeling her orange and asked, "Aren't you going to ask
me how the ball was?"
"Of course! Did you have a nice time?"
"No, I mean aren't you going to ask me about the ball itself? About what
happened there? Not just if Santana and I had a good time."
"I don't understand what you mean, Dumpling. I was there, I know what happened.
And it's pretty much all we covered yesterday, so..."
"Yeah, it's all you covered, but your reporters left a lot out, so I thought
maybe somehow no one had noticed..."
The duke sighed. "If you're talking about that boy the prince was spending time
with..."
"That's exactly who I'm talking about."
"You know my media outlets don't engage in salacious gossip."
"What's salacious? I mean, okay, some of it kind of was, but you could have
mentioned that they were dancing."
"We don't even know the young man's name. It was a masked ball, if you'll
recall."
"Fine, but you knew it was a man. And yet you went out of your way to avoid
mentioning that detail!"
"Yes, of course we did!" Coffee sloshed onto the table as the duke slammed his
cup down. "Look, Dumpling, I know how you like to think you're so modern and
cutting edge with your girlfriend—"
"My wife!"
"Your girlfriend until I see a valid marriage certificate stating otherwise."
"And you'll do anything you can to prevent that, won't you? Even if it means
screwing thousands of other people out of marrying who they love too."
"You seem to think I have a lot more power than I do, Dumpling."
"You seem to think I'm a lot more naïve than I am, Daddy. You control
practically all the media in this kingdom. You know how much people love the
royal family, and you know that if people knew one of them was gay, it would do
so much to advance gay rights here."
"I'm not going to out a prince—and make an enemy of the king—just to advance
your radical agenda."
"Has the king asked you to keep it a secret?"
"He doesn't have to! Dumpling, things like this are just understood!"
"Right. It's just understood that having a queer child is the most shameful
thing ever."
"I didn't say that, Dumpling. And besides, you're not queer."
Brittany stood. "I can't talk to you anymore. I'll...I'll call your secretary
about Donna. Give my love to Mom."
.
Blaine called the bookstore and told his boss he was sick. He'd never called in
sick before, not even when he was, so his boss didn't suspect he was lying. Not
that he even was, necessarily. He'd cried so much he didn't think he physically
had enough energy to get out of bed and get in the shower, much less make it
through six hours at the bookstore, followed by five more at the restaurant. He
fell asleep again, curled up with his tear-soaked pillow.
It was almost noon when he woke. He didn't want to get out of bed, but he had
to pee. After he did he decided he might as well get something to eat while he
was up anyway. He stopped short at the top of the stairs, though, when he heard
voices below. He hadn't realized Shelby was working from home today, though
since the other voice seemed to be her friend Terri, it seemed a safe bet that
she wasn't working that hard.
He was tempted to just go down to the kitchen anyway, and fuck it if she caught
him skipping work. She was basically doing the same thing. But. He really
didn't have it in him to listen to her screaming at him right now. He was about
to turn around and go back to his room when he heard his name, so naturally he
paused to listen. And he heard Shelby tell the story of Blaine coming home the
morning before with come stains on Jesse's suit, which Terri found hilarious.
Blaine felt his face burning. It didn't feel like shame, though; it felt like
rage. And he wasn't sure what to do with this particular rage, and he was
frozen in place, listening to Shelby recount the rest of the family's
adventures from the day before, or Rachel's version of them anyway. Blaine
wanted at that point to march downstairs and tell them what had really happened
at the ball, but he was still frozen.
Shelby mentioned Jesse and Rachel driving back to school in the morning—"which
is why I was too tired to go into the office this morning!"—and Terri said,
"You know, I've never understood why they enrolled at the provincial
conservatory instead of the royal one. They'd be so much closer if they went to
school in the capital! Not to mention how much better a school it is."
"It just costs so much more," Shelby said. The royal conservatory cost about
twice as much as the provincial one, and the provincial one was expensive
enough that Shelby hadn't even allowed Blaine to apply.
"But what about Matt?" Terri asked. Blaine felt something clutch at his heart
at the mention of his dad's name. No one ever, ever talked about him anymore.
"You mean the guy who left me a young widow with three children to raise on my
own?"
"And you've been so brave," Terri said, "and so inspiring. I just meant...he
was on the faculty at the royal conservatory, right? And faculty's kids get
free tuition. Even if the parents pass away, like I was just reading about a
student there whose mother died in—"
"Jesse and Rachel were his stepchildren, though. It doesn't count for
stepchildren."
"It doesn't? But that's so unfair!"
"I know! It's completely unfair! Matt loved those kids like he loved his own."
"Did you complain?"
"Of course! I fought so hard, Terri. A single mother just doesn't have a chance
against these huge bureaucracies." She choked up a little.
"Oh, I know, honey. It's been so hard for you...." Blaine didn't stick around
to listen to Shelby being comforted; he crept silently back to his room.
.
Ryder was hanging around the palace kitchen before lunch time, hoping word
would come down that Prince Samuel wanted his food brought up to him. The
prince was avoiding his family, so it was a good bet that he would. He did, and
Ryder volunteered to take the food to his private sitting room. He wanted to
talk to the prince as soon as possible, somewhere that Sue would never dare to
bug.
Prince Samuel was only slightly surprised to see who it was with his lunch.
"Hey, Ryder. Thanks for insisting on calling Liz last night."
"You're welcome, Your Highness."
"I was being sarcastic, dude. I had to endure the safe sex lecture again."
"Dr. Stevens doesn't know about Kurt and his magical vaccination, Your
Highness. She's just trying to keep you safe."
"I'm perfectly safe!"
"Actually, Your Highness..." Ryder lowered his voice. "I think last night shows
that you aren't, necessarily. May I come in? I'd actually like to talk about
your safety."
The prince sighed, but the sigh sounded more indulgent than exasperated, and he
invited Ryder to come in and sit with him while he ate.
"Security for you while you carry out this plan is going to be difficult with
only one guard," Ryder began.
"Yeah. Well, you do have a point there. If Jake is still sick maybe we could
hold off a day."
"Jake...isn't actually sick, Your Highness."
"What? No. If Jake wanted time off he would just ask me, he wouldn't lie about
being sick."
"No. He wouldn't lie to you, Your Highness. But Jake isn't the one who told you
he's sick, right? That was Ms. Sylvester."
"You're saying he lied to Sue?"
"No, Your Highness. I'm saying Jake didn't lie at all." This was as close as
Ryder dared to get to coming right out and accusing his boss of lying to the
prince.
Luckily the prince didn't need it spelled out any more than that, though he did
still seem skeptical. "But why would Sue lie?" he asked.
"Maybe she doesn't want you to know yet that she fired him."
Prince Samuel set down his fork and dashed out into the hall. It happened so
fast that Ryder had to scramble to follow him. "Wait, Your Highness!" he
called, and thank God His Highness did wait long enough for Ryder to catch up
with him. "Please, can we finish talking in your sitting room before you do
anything?"
So they returned to the sitting room, but neither sat. "Why shouldn't I go give
Sue a piece of my mind and demand that she rehire him immediately?"
"For one thing, because she's probably already got His Majesty on her side. But
more importantly, if she knows you know, she'll think Jake contacted you, or
contacted me, and she'll withhold his severance pay and any recommendations for
other jobs he applies for."
"So he's screwed if he even contacts us?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"How do you even know this?"
"I contacted him. He gave me his brother's phone number once, so I tried it and
he was there. I didn't use my own phone, though, so Ms. Sylvester won't know."
Prince Samuel considered that. "Wouldn't it have been better if she did know?
So she couldn't accuse him of calling you?"
"Um...maybe you're right, Your Highness. I didn't think of that, I just thought
it would be risky for her to know I knew at all."
"Okay, just..." The prince handed Ryder his phone. "Put his brother's number in
here and I'll call him." Ryder entered the number under Jake's brother's name
and handed it back. Prince Samuel looked at it, held his finger over the call
button, and then looked back at Ryder. "Noah," he read out loud. "How is he,
anyway? Jake never talks about him."
"Jake's kind of under the impression that talking about him here is forbidden."
"Yeah. I guess it is. I guess if he answers I can ask him myself."
.
Blaine got back into bed, but he didn't cry, and he didn't sleep. He was way
too shaken by what he'd just heard.
His father had been on the faculty at the royal conservatory!? Shelby had
always just told him his father was a teacher. And whenever Blaine had asked
what he taught, she'd just said something vague about little brats or
something, so Blaine had assumed he taught grade school, or maybe even
preschool. And maybe it wouldn't have mattered before he took an interest in
singing, but she knew he would have loved to go to the conservatory, and to
think that he could have gone for free...!
And, yeah, maybe he wouldn't have gotten accepted, but he sure as hell would
have tried if he'd known the tuition wouldn't be an obstacle!
He had to get out of this house, he had to get away from her.
He knew now that Kurt was not going to come back and rescue him.
Not that he was bitter toward Kurt. He was grateful, he was. Kurt had said he'd
do one thing for him, and he'd done it, and it had been amazing. Kurt had given
him the best night of his life, his night with Sam.
But Sam was not going to rescue him either.
Blaine was going to have to rescue himself.
.
Sam went to see his father right after he got off the phone with Jake. "How
could you let Sue fire Jake?" he demanded.
The king set down the paper he'd been reading and gestured for his son to sit
across the desk from him. "Sue is in charge of security," he said. "Hiring and
firing guards is part of her job."
"But you're the king. Make her hire him back!" A withering glance from his
father made Sam shrink a little in his seat. "Please, Father. He's been so
loyal and dedicated all these years."
"Did he ask you to go over Sue's head and intervene on his behalf?"
"No! I only even know what happened because I managed to track him down through
one of his relatives. I was worried because Sue said he was sick, and he never
gets sick."
The king frowned. "Sue shouldn't have lied to you. I'll reprimand her for that.
I assume she did so because she knew you were close and would try to
interfere."
"Damn right I would try to interfere!"
"Samuel! Language!"
Sam bowed his head. "I apologize, Father."
The king stood. "I trust Sue's judgment. And I agree with her. Jake smuggled a
stranger into the royal ball without even finding out his name. Do you have any
idea what—"
"But I'm glad he did! I'm in love with that 'stranger', and I wouldn't have
even met him if Jake hadn't let him in!"
There was a several-second pause, the king's stare boring into his son. "I beg
your pardon?"
"I mean..."
"Am I to understand that the young man you were so publicly...let's say
'displaying your affection for'...is someone you only met that night?"
Shit. Sam had assumed his mother would have already shared this information
with his father. Given how his father was taking it, it was clear that his
mother's instincts were better than his. There was no point denying it now,
however, so he just said, "Yes, Father."
The king was silent again, and none too happy, Sam could tell. Finally he said,
"Well, then I guess at least you can tell Sue his name."
Sam looked down. "No, Father. I don't know it."
"You don't know it," his father repeated.
"No, Father."
"Look me in the eye, Samuel." Sam did, and his father continued. "If you are
lying to me to protect Jake or this new friend of yours..."
"I'm not, Father. I'd give anything to know his name. I'd give anything to be
able to find him again."
"You don't know how to get in touch with him?"
"No, Father."
Again there was silence. When it was broken, it was by his father saying, "You
need to leave my office now, Samuel."
.
Blaine had been planning on staying home all day, but he decided to work his
shift at Hungry's after all. He wouldn't be able to save up enough money to get
his own place by not working. Shelby was waiting for him in the hallway when he
left the bathroom after his shower. "Blaine! What are you doing home? I thought
you were at the bookstore."
"I had a headache so I called in."
"You missed work because of a headache!? Boo hoo! Suck it up, Blaine, this
family has bills to pay!"
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm working from home, and I don't care for your tone."
"Uh-huh. Well, I'll get out of your way now, since you're working. I have my
second job to get to."
It was slow at work, which was bad tips-wise but nice otherwise because he
actually got to talk to Dani a bit. And Dani was talkative enough to take his
mind off his own stuff a little. Dani had a girlfriend. "...And I'm sorry I
didn't tell you before, but I wasn't sure if...I mean I've never even really
dated before because my mom and dad, you know—and they absolutely do not know
about her, by the way—and...but anyway, I really like her!"
"That's great, Dani. What's her name?"
"Sunshine," Dani said, sighing a little. "Do you want to meet her? We're going
out after I get off work; why don't you come with us?"
"Uh, no. I don't want to horn in on your date."
"Oh, come on! I want you to meet her!"
"I'd like to, but..." Blaine was happy for Dani, he was, but the last thing he
felt like doing was being a third wheel on someone else's date.
"We're going to a karaoke bar..." Dani said.
"Mmm..." It was tempting, actually. Blaine loved to sing, after all—and he used
to be good at it. What if he still was? What if...Well, karaoke with lesbians
would be a pretty low-risk way to find out if it was something even worth
considering. "Yeah. Okay. Why not?"
.
Jake didn't expect Prince Samuel to have good news for him, but he agreed to
meet him at Starchild anyway. Well, agreed was hardly the right word. Even
though he wasn't a palace employee anymore, it would never have occurred to him
to refuse a summons from the prince.
He was the first one there, and Elliott showed him up to the little apartment.
He rose, naturally, when the prince and Ryder came in several minutes later,
and the prince walked up to him and hugged him and said, "I'm so sorry, Jake. I
talked to Sue. Maybe it'll make you happy that she got in a little bit of
trouble with the king, but only for lying to me. It was enough to make her
really pissed at me, even though she had to act like she wasn't. Anyway, she
wanted me to pick one of the unassigned guards to be Ryder's partner, but...I
mean, it's kind of sensitive what we're doing here, right? I can't trust just
anyone."
"I'm sorry, Your Highness," Jake said.
"No, I'm not blaming you. I told Sue I'd have to think about who I want,
but...Ryder doesn't think it's safe with just him."
"There was an incident last night," Ryder added.
Jake raised his eyebrows. "Are you all right, Your Highness?"
"Oh, yeah. No big deal," Prince Samuel said, making a brushing-off gesture.
"But...I have a proposition for you."
Jake immediately accepted the Prince Samuel's proposition, namely that he work
for him unofficially when they were outside the palace. The prince insisted on
paying him in cash out of his allowance, although Jake would have done it for
free. He cared about the prince—and about Ryder, who he knew this was going to
be hard on—too much to trust any other guard during the prince's mission.
Especially after hearing what had happened with the underage guy from last
night.
.
Dustin sat at his "usual" table, sipping a beer and trying not to feel guilty
for lying to David. Well, he hadn't actually lied, he told himself. He just
hadn't told David everything. Like...well, obviously he hadn't mentioned that
he was going to fuck Prince Samuel. (That is, he hoped he was going to fuck
Prince Samuel; Elliott hadn't actually been able to guarantee that the prince
would be back.)
Strangely, though, the plan to fuck the prince wasn't really what he felt
guilty about. No, Dustin had told David he would, if given the opportunity. So
basically he had permission.
But still. He knew David well enough to know that he wouldn't want to know
about it.
What he did feel a little guilty about was that he hadn't mentioned that he'd
found Mercedes last night. It was just to protect David, so when he said he was
going back to Starchild tonight, David would naturally assume it was for work.
(Dustin didn't actually say it was for work because he wasn't a liar!)
He wasn't sure why this omission bothered him so much, except...well, David
would have been so happy for him, if he'd known. It was a big deal that he'd
managed to find Mercedes and get her to come into the studio. And even though
she hadn't signed with the label yet (and seemed weirdly opposed to the very
idea of signing legal documents of any sort—Dustin was going to have to find
out if that was some weird religious thing or what), the Roderick kid actually
was very promising. Even signing just him, especially if Mercedes would record
a duet with him, would be really good for his career. So just having to hide
his excitement from his financé felt weirdly kind of like lying. Even though it
wasn't!
But it felt enough like it was that he actually thought about leaving. He
actually thought maybe he shouldn't do this.
But...if he went home this early, David would wonder why. And Dustin could tell
the truth, he guessed, but then he'd just be hurting David without even getting
to fuck the prince. So he stayed and he waited.
Guys came over to chat and flirt now and then. Dustin didn't flirt back with
them, so none stayed very long, but he did pick up some gossip from this one
guy. Supposedly Prince Samuel was a bottom now and he wanted to make up for
lost time or something by getting fucked by as many different guys as possible.
Of course no one actually believed this—some kid last night claimed he and his
friend had both fucked the prince, but this was as he was getting thrown out,
so...—but still, wouldn't it be fucking amazing if true? Dustin just nodded and
agreed it would be fucking amazing. He wasn't about to jeopardize his place as
next in line by confirming the crazy rumor.
.
Sebastian rented a car at the airport. Doing so was a frankly baffling ordeal,
and he wished he'd had the foresight to call his driver before getting on a
plane in Paris. Even if he'd called after he landed it might have been quicker,
but he'd mistakenly assumed he would save time this way.
Well, no matter. The important thing was he was on his way to see his first
love again. Okay, love was probably too strong a word. But Sam...Prince Samuel
had definitely been his first. The memory of that very first time made him
cringe a bit.
It started shortly after curfew. Sebastian had barely made it to his own room
in time after an evening spent making out with Sam in his bed. They'd been
doing that a lot lately; usually it ended with Sebastian sucking Sam off
shortly before curfew and jerking off in his bed after, but this particular
night—they must have lost track of the time or something—they'd both been hard
and unsatisfied still when Sebastian had to leave.
Sebastian was lying in his bed trying not to make any noise to alert his
roommate, Thad, as to what he was doing, even though deep down he knew Thad was
probably perfectly aware. Thad was a decent guy, though, and he pretended not
to notice. He was also nice enough to get up to answer the door when Mr.
Schuester knocked the second time—which was unusual, but it did happen
occasionally, particularly if he suspected something was up.
It wasn't Mr. Schuester at the door, though. It was Sam, in pajama bottoms and
no top. As soon as the door was open he said, "Go sleep somewhere else tonight,
Thad."
Thad hesitated, and Sebastian could easily imagine everything that was going
through his head. He would get in trouble if he was caught out of his room. His
friends might not let him in because then they could get in trouble too.
Following the prince's orders wouldn't be accepted as an excuse, because every
student was supposedly equal at the school. Some guys didn't even realize
Sebastian was a count...until he told them! Everyone knew who Prince Samuel
was, obviously, but they were supposed to call him Samuel or even Sam and treat
him like any other classmate. (Except when they weren't, like anyone who was in
a class with him or at his table in the dining hall couldn't sit until he did.)
The prince wasn't officially allowed to order the other guys around, and he
generally didn't, but when he did ask someone to do something they mostly did
it because...well, it was hard not to be aware that he could become the king at
any moment. True, he was only third in line, but it wasn't hard to imagine a
car crash or a palace fire or something killing King Dwight, Princess Quinn,
and Princess Beth all at once.
Sebastian gave Thad some much-needed encouragement to do the right thing: "Go
on, stop being a fucking cockblock!"
Thad left, reluctantly. Sam got into Sebastian's bed, lay right on top of him,
and ground his hard-on against Sebastian's hip. "You left me all horny still!"
he accused.
"Yeah, well," Sebastian said, "now you know how I feel basically every night
when I leave your room."
"Yeah?" Sam asked. "You want me to suck you off?"
Maybe Sebastian should have pretended to have to think about it or something,
but he blurted out, "Oh my God, yes!"
"Okay," Sam said, and he reached inside Sebastian's boxers and stroked his
dick. He licked his lips and moved his head down like he was going to start,
but then he added, "But if I do, I want you to let me put mine in your butt."
"Okay," Sebastian said. It wasn't something he'd ever especially imagined
wanting someone to do to him. He'd seen gay porn, and he'd always wanted to be
the guy putting it in the other guy's butt. But Sam was touching his dick and
saying he was going to suck it; Sebastian would have agreed to just about
anything at that moment.
Sam pulled Sebastian's boxers off and scooted lower on the bed. He took
Sebastian's dick in his hand and moved it this way and that, sort of inspecting
it. "I really like your dick!" he declared.
"Thanks," Sebastian said, trying really hard to hold it still.
"Do you like mine too?"
"I wouldn't suck it practically every night if I didn't."
"You might," Sam said. "You might do it just because I'm a prince."
"I really like it," Sebastian said. "I really like you touching mine."
"I think I'm actually gonna like sucking it. You don't think that's too un-
royal-like, do you?"
"Not at all."
"Yeah, I don't think so either. But still don't tell anyone."
"I promise." Sebastian involuntarily squirmed a little.
Sam put his face very close to it and licked it slowly. Then again. And again.
"This is...awesome!" he announced.
"Mm-hmm!" Sebastian agreed. He was having trouble thinking of actual words at
the moment.
Sam went back to licking. Not really sucking, Sebastian couldn't help but
notice, but he wasn't complaining. It was like Sam just wanted to taste every
part of it. And then finally he did put it inside his mouth, and that was by
far the most amazing thing Sebastian had ever felt. He couldn't control his
hips at all, couldn't stop himself from pushing up into Sam's mouth. It was
just, it was exactly where his dick wanted to be, so snug and warm and wet. And
the drag of Sam's lips along his shaft as Sebastian moved his cock in and out,
it was so incredibly perfect.
"Dude, how can I suck it if you don't hold still?" Sam paused to ask. Sebastian
didn't have an answer, but Sam didn't wait for one; he held Sebastian's hips
down, wrapped his mouth around his cock, and started to suck.
Even with his hips being held in place, it was literally all Sebastian could do
not to thrust. He couldn't not come—pretty much right away—and he couldn't not
scream when he did. His mind emptied just as his balls did, and he felt nothing
but euphoria.
The second it was over, Sam jumped out of bed and hid in the closet in case Mr.
Schuester was going to check on the noise. Sebastian knew he should have felt
bad about being so loud, but he was feeling way too good to feel bad about
anything. And he felt cocky too—so much that when Sam felt it was safe to come
out of the closet, Sebastian asked him, "Did you swallow my load?"
"Hell no," Sam said. "I took your dick out of my mouth at the last minute—I'm
surprised you didn't notice. It got in my hair, but don't worry. I cleaned it
off on a shirt in your closet."
"Oh." Sebastian hoped he was joking. Or if not, he hoped it was one of Thad's
shirts.
"My turn!" Sam said. "Roll over."
Fuck. Part of Sebastian had forgotten about Sam's turn. The part that hadn't
was hoping that somehow Sam would forget. Having already come, he found the
prospect of getting fucked very unappealing...and kind of terrifying. But what
was he going to do? Go back on his promise to the prince? He rolled over onto
his stomach.
Sam stepped out of his pajama pants—he didn't have any underwear underneath,
Sebastian noticed—and hopped back onto the bed, kneeling between Sebastian's
spread legs. Sebastian buried his face in his pillow at this point rather than
twisting his neck to try to watch. He felt a finger poking at his asshole and
then being pushed inside. It didn't exactly hurt. And then the finger wiggled
around a little, and it kind of made him feel like he had to take a shit,
although he was pretty sure he didn't actually have to. That part was weird and
Sebastian was glad it didn't last too long. Next Sam grabbed his buttcheeks,
and then Sebastian felt something wet land on his asshole, and it took him a
second to realize it must have been Sam spitting on him. He'd seen that in a
porno once; maybe Sam had seen the same one. Or maybe it was an actual thing
gay guys did. At any rate, he was pretty sure that there was spit on his
butthole and that Sam was rubbing it around now. The spitting and rubbing
alternated with the poking and fingering for a bit, and then Sam lay flat on
top of him and pressed the tip of his dick right up against Sebastian's hole.
Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. Sam pushed in, and it
hurt so bad. Sebastian tried not to cry out, but he couldn't help it.
Sam stopped pushing. "Is that good?" he asked uncertainly.
No! No, it was very, very not good! But Sebastian wasn't going to try to weasel
his way out of his end of the deal. "I'll be all right. Just give me a second."
"Did it hurt? I barely got the tip in."
"I said I'll be all right if you just give me a second."
"Okay. Jesus. Bite my head off, why don't you?"
Sebastian tried to take a deep breath. Failing that, he tried to take a normal
breath. He managed that after a few attempts and said, "Okay. Go ahead."
Sam went ahead. Sebastian felt like he was being torn apart. He thought he was
hiding it well enough, though, until Sam stopped and said, "You're crying."
"No, I'm not," Sebastian said, though talking made it completely obvious that
he actually was.
Sam pulled out, which was such a relief. He said, "You should have just told me
it hurt."
"I could have taken it." Sebastian didn't, however, go so far as to insist that
Sam try again. "Want me to suck you off?"
"Ew, no. It was just in your butt, you don't wanna put it in your mouth now.
Don't worry, I'll take care of it." Sebastian didn't turn to look—mainly
because he didn't want the prince to see his tears—but he quickly figured out
that Sam was jerking himself off. Sure enough, he soon felt one, two, three hot
ropes of come land on his back before Sam lay down next to him.
For a couple weeks after that, Sam didn't even invite Sebastian to his room to
make out anymore. Sebastian wasn't about to grovel or anything, but he really
missed it. He really wished he had just let Sam finish. It wouldn't have hurt
that much. It wouldn't have literally killed him.
Then one day, as Sebastian was walking from history to French, Sam grabbed his
arm in the hall and said, "Guess what!"
"Uh...what?"
"I've been practicing with Connor, and he taught me what to do to make it not
hurt!"
It only took Sebastian a second to figure out what Sam meant he'd been
practicing. "Connor Who?" he demanded. And he instantly regretted his tone
because he should not make it sound like he was jealous. Even though he was.
Sam didn't seem to pick up on anything though. He said, "Connor Warbler. You
know, the senior? Most people just call him and his brother—"
"Super Gay Warbler and Other Really Gay Warbler," Sebastian finished for him.
"Yeah, I've heard of them. Which one is Connor?"
"Super Gay. Anyway, the point is, let me try it again. It won't even hurt!"
So Sebastian let him try again that night. It did still hurt, but not nearly as
much as the first time. It didn't make him cry this time, and Sam sucked him
off first again, so it was worth it. The next time hurt even less, and after
that it hardly hurt at all.
But Sebastian never actually enjoyed it. He assumed that no guy did, that guys
who seemed to like it in porn were just acting. In real life, the only reason
to let someone do that to you was so you would get a turn doing it to them.
Except Sam flat-out refused to let him have a turn. "Princes don't take it in
the ass," he said any time Sebastian brought it up. Sebastian challenged him to
show him where that was written, and of course it wasn't written anywhere
(except on the sheet of notebook paper that Sam wrote it on, just then).
Sebastian also pointed out that, technically, they were all equals while at
school—and that even if they weren't, Sebastian wasn't that far beneath him, he
was literally the second-highest ranking student at the school. Sam would have
none of it, however, and Sebastian didn't push too hard. The prince's blowjobs
were getting better and better, and Sebastian was wary of pushing him away
altogether.
One afternoon Sebastian found himself sharing a table in the library with Other
Really Gay Warbler—Oliver, he learned later—who leaned across the table and
whispered, "I heard you're the prince's favorite."
"Favorite what?" Sebastian asked, trying and failing to sound casual.
"Oh please," Oliver said, rolling his eyes. "He's only done me twice, and it
was so amazing. I'm totally jealous that you get his dick practically every
night."
"Wait. You're jealous because he fucks me? Or is it because he blows me?"
"He blows you too? Oh my God, now I'm extra jealous! Though I would take him
fucking me over blowing me any day."
They talked some more, and it turned out Oliver actually really liked getting
fucked. And it didn't have to be by the prince—he was open to letting Sebastian
do it. And, God, Sebastian discovered that he liked fucking so much more than
being fucked.
Over time he discovered that Oliver wasn't the only guy at the school who
preferred being fucked, and so it all sort of worked out.
He missed Sam, though. Oh, they stayed friends. They still made out and sucked
each other sometimes—though it was far more often Sebastian sucking Sam than
vice versa. But he stopped letting Sam fuck him. He really thought at the time
that they could have been proper boyfriends if only Sam had been willing to
take turns. But now he realized it was better that they weren't. He'd had a few
proper boyfriends over the years, all of whom were strictly bottoms. Everyone
was happy that way. Sexually, anyway. Obviously they weren't completely happy
as couples or they wouldn't have broken up, but the break-ups were for other
reasons.
Now he had no illusions that he could be Prince Samuel's boyfriend. But when
Elliott had called and told him about the prince's bottoming spree, Sebastian
dropped everything and got on a plane. There was no way he was going to pass up
the chance he'd been waiting for all these years.
.
Sam invited Elliott into the apartment while Ryder and Jake were checking out
the next guy, Dustin, in the hallway. "Isn't he a little...old?" he asked. Not
that the guy was elderly or anything, but he definitely seemed older than
Darren.
"You didn't specify any certain age, Your Highness. You specified someone
you've never fucked before."
It was true, Sam had never fucked this guy before. Not that he remembered,
anyway. "Yeah, but I also said I was looking for guys who are not very
experienced."
"Yes, Your Highness. As far as I know he's only been with one man. Though I
didn't really feel comfortable interrogating him thoroughly. I can tell him no
if you'd like. Or you could ask him more questions first."
No, Sam couldn't ask him more questions. That was the problem. And he didn't
want to take the risk of sending away anyone who could conceivably be Darren.
Kurt had mentioned that Darren had a hard life. Maybe it was hard enough to
make him look older than he was. Or maybe Darren actually was older than Kurt
made him look. Maybe one of his hardships was getting well into adulthood
without getting laid. Oh man, that would be so sad! "No, don't tell him no."
Ryder escorted the guy in. He didn't raise any red flags like Spencer had (or
should have, if Ryder had been more alert!): he was calm and respectful and
didn't even seem like he'd been drinking at all.
And he was forty! Which had nothing to do with how big a risk he posed, but
Ryder thought it seemed pretty unlikely that a forty-year-old would turn out to
be Darren. He kept this opinion to himself, however. Also, there was something
vaguely familiar about him, but Ryder couldn't put his finger on what it was.
He didn't have any reason to believe it was related to anything that might put
the prince at risk, though.
Dustin bowed. Sam studied him, looking for signs of Darren, even though he knew
it was pointless. "How are you tonight, Dustin?"
"Excellent, Your Highness, thank you for asking. And how are you?"
"Very well, thank you."
"Might I just say, Your Highness, that your ball was lovely. It was so kind of
you to—"
"You were there?"
"Yes, I—"
"Wait! Don't say any more!"
"No?"
"No! My God, don't ruin it!" Could it actually be him? "It was so kind of you
to"...To what!? But he couldn't let him go on in case he really was going to
say...and in case Kurt would hear him say...
Dustin. The name was really similar to Darren. Same first and last letters.
Both six letters, two syllables. That would be just like Kurt. Holy shit, this
could really be him! He had so many questions; it was so hard not to ask them
before he was sure.
Sam studied him again, not looking for signs of Darren this time, but wondering
if he could see himself with this guy for the rest of his life. It wasn't
Darren's looks, of course, that made Sam fall in love with him, but...well,
they hadn't hurt. And Dustin was plenty good looking too. Striking blue eyes.
Strong eyebrows. Tall (although Sam had kind of liked how Darren was shorter
than him, but whatever, he could adapt). "Take your clothes off."
Dustin silently obeyed. It was a little awkward, the not talking thing, but if
that was the way the prince wanted it, he wasn't going to question it. Prince
Samuel watched him undress, and he evidently liked what he saw. Dustin couldn't
help but smirk a little at that. He knew it was inappropriate, but come on! A
hot twenty-one-year old prince was into him! Who wouldn't be a little cocky at
that?
Once Dustin was naked, Prince Samuel continued to check him out for a minute
before he began taking off his own clothes. And when he did—as David would say,
"¡Dios mío!" Not that he was thinking about David right now. Not that he didn't
love David more than anything and not that he didn't still find David
attractive, but...well, David was not twenty-one anymore.
Prince Samuel handed him a small jar. The label said it was coconut oil. What
the...? Did the prince want a massage first? One with some kind of a tropical
beach roleplay scenario? How would roleplay even work if one of them wasn't
allowed to speak? Not to mention not knowing what role he was supposed to be
playing?
Dustin was looking at the coconut oil like he didn't know what to do with it.
"Use it as a lube," Sam told him, somewhat disheartened. Surely Darren would
remember. Then again, there was a lot going on that night. The coconut oil was
just a small, insignificant detail.
Oh. Coconut oil as lube, okay. Apparently that meant they wouldn't be using
condoms. That didn't seem like such a great idea if Prince Samuel had fucked
anywhere near the number of guys he was rumored to have fucked. But...Jesus,
the guy was hot. And topping was less risky than bottoming, and he hadn't
(reportedly) bottomed very much at all, so...
Sam lay on his stomach and Dustin sat beside him. His fingers were strong; that
was nice. They weren't tentative; that was...Sam wasn't sure. He wouldn't
expect Darren to be too tentative with him, but he wouldn't expect him to be
this confident either.
God, Sam had to stop analyzing every detail. If the details could help him
figure it out then that would be one thing, but they couldn't. Until Dustin's
cock was in his ass, there was nothing to do but wait. Wait and just enjoy it,
because, yeah, this Dustin guy was really good with his fingers.
Dustin wondered if he was really not allowed to speak at all. If this were
David he wouldn't need to; he would know when his fiancé was ready. But he
hadn't been with anyone other than David in almost three years. He was pretty
sure the prince was ready, but he wanted to be completely sure. He didn't want
to risk making the prince angry by speaking, but he didn't want to risk making
him angry by hurting him either. He pressed his cock against the prince's
entrance—very lightly, so as not to breach him accidentally—and asked, "Okay?"
Oh, this was it, Dustin was finally ready! Except Sam didn't want to be taken
from behind; he wanted to be able to look into Darren's eyes if it really was
him. He turned onto his back and repositioned them before he said, "Yeah.
Okay."
Dustin pushed in carefully, but not hesitantly. Kind of like he knew what he
was doing. That...that wasn't really a good sign. Not that it didn't feel good,
like, objectively, but that was a different question.
Oh God the prince felt good. So tight. So young. Dustin was kissing the
muscular leg propped up on his shoulder as he slipped deeper inside. He turned
to watch the prince's face as he slid in that final inch or so, and it was
gorgeous, yes, but alarming because he looked...terribly disappointed somehow.
Dustin desperately wanted to make it right, but he didn't know what he was
doing wrong, and he couldn't ask. Could he? He had to. He had to stop making
the prince make that face. "Tell me what you want me to do, Your Highness.
Please."
Sam looked into those blue eyes that he was now less and less convinced could
possibly be Darren's. Why had he thought looking at the guy's unfamiliar face
would help? He had to concentrate only on his dick. "You're doing great," Sam
assured him. "I just...I think I'd rather turn over after all." Dustin moved
back and Sam got onto his hands and knees. He spread his legs and took a deep
breath. "Okay."
"Yes, Your Highness." Dustin got into position behind him. "Is there anything
in particular you'd like—"
"No hints!" Sam insisted. He wasn't going to tell the guy how to be more
Darren-like.
Hints? What the hell? Was Prince Samuel playing some sort of bizarre game? One
that only he knew the rules to? But...okay, everyone knew royals were
eccentric. The important thing was Dustin still got to fuck him. And since he
had no chance of "winning" without even knowing what the game was, he might as
well fuck him how he wanted.
And how he wanted to fuck him was long. As huge a turn-on as the prince's youth
was for him, one advantage to maturity was that he could last way longer than
he could when he was the prince's age. Since this was only going to be a one-
time thing, he wanted to enjoy it for as long as possible.
Dustin entered him again, slowly but surely. He built up a steady but not rapid
pace. It gave Sam plenty of time to just feel the dick moving inside him.
It wasn't Darren's. He figured that out pretty quickly. But he wasn't surehow
he knew—when Darren fucked him, he wasn't, like, making a mental list of all
the characteristics of how his dick felt, like how many centimeters in
diameter, or the exact temperature or anything like that—and this bothered him.
How could Kurt be so sure he would know? But Kurt did say he would know, he
said it unequivocally, and Sam just had to trust that.
On the other hand, it couldn't hurt to give Dustin the benefit of the doubt for
a little longer. He was really good; he was steadily working Sam up, hitting
his prostate more and more frequently as he went on, and the longer he went on
the more Sam felt like he was going to come. He really...oh, God, he was really
going to, even without touching his own dick at all. Dustin kept nailing him in
exactly the right spot, still not every time, but when he did...God. If
only...if only Dustin would fuck him just a little harder, just a little
faster. Sam rocked himself back forcefully. "Come on, man!"
Dustin felt himself smirking, just a little smug that he'd managed to make the
prince desperate for more. But he wasn't ready to give more yet. The prince was
just going to have to be patient.
Sam was getting super impatient. He needed to come super bad. He knew he could
just jerk himself, but he wanted to have the orgasm fucked out of him. Like
Darren had done to him. Maybe...maybe it was still possible and this was how he
would know. He was so close, and if Dustin would just...
Dustin grabbed Prince Samuel's hips and held them still. He did start moving a
little faster, though. He didn't want to press his luck; he didn't want to
provoke the prince to order him to go faster. He fucked him faster and he
started hitting his prostate with every thrust. The boy in front of him started
to moan and shake. The moans turned to screams. The shaking turned to powerful
muscle contractions. Dustin continued to fuck the prince through his orgasm,
even though it was a struggle to move through the incredible tightness and even
more of a struggle not to give in to the urge to come along with him.
Sam's arms were shaky after his orgasm, and he allowed himself to slump forward
onto the pillow. He was so relaxed. He wasn't sure how his knees hadn't given
out too until he realized Dustin was still holding his hips in place. And then
Dustin slid into him again. Not hard or fast like just before Sam came, more
like just before Sam started to get impatient. Turning his head to the side,
just enough so he wouldn't be talking into the pillow, he asked, "You didn't
come yet?"
"No, Your Highness. I can make you come again, if you'll let me keep going."
Okay, there was officially no way this was Darren. Darren would have come with
him! And if, on some off chance, he hadn't he wouldn't be all cocky about it.
So Sam could have said no. But he was so relaxed and content, and it didn't
seem nice to make Dustin stop before he came, and he didn't want to be not nice
to someone who had just made him feel so good. And besides. He kind of felt
like Dustin's cockiness was justified, and if he said he could make Sam come
again, then he could. "Yeah, man, keep going."
Yes! Although at this point, Dustin really wanted to go back to just slamming
into the prince's sweet, tight ass...right when that was exactly the worst
thing he could do. His Highness couldn't possibly be ready to be slammed into
just yet. Dustin would have to work him up slowly again.
Thank God the prince was so young: it wasn't all that much longer (objectively
speaking, though subjectively it felt like a long time) that he was moving
under Dustin again. Dustin reached around to stroke him to hardness again and
was delighted to discover he was halfway there already.
The hand on Sam's dick felt so good. His dick itself was still slick with the
come that hadn't landed on the sheet, so he could fuck into Dustin's fist
really smoothly. And Dustin's dick in his ass had never stopped feeling good,
but now it was starting to hit his prostate some of the time again, which was
awesome. Maybe Kurt had been right about Sam all this time, and he should have
started taking men's cocks in his ass a long time ago. He really liked it.
Dustin seemed less intent on teasing him this time. He was picking up the pace
a lot less gradually now, plus he was jerking Sam off. Probably Dustin was
desperate to come now. Sam wasn't desperate to come this time, not yet anyway,
but he saw no reason to resist the second orgasm when he felt it creeping up on
him. He fucked harder into Dustin's fist and at the last moment asked, "You
gonna come with me, babe?"
"Yes!" Yes, Dustin was more than ready to come with the prince, to come in the
prince as his muscles clamped down on his cock for the second time. It was such
a relief to let go, to fill the prince's narrow channel with his come.
Sam collapsed face-first onto the bed, pretty much content to never move from
that spot for the rest of his life. Yeah, he was lying in a pool of his own
come, some of it already cool, but so what?
Dustin was getting dressed, though, so he guessed he should too. Once they were
both dressed, Sam said, "You're not Darren, are you?" He wasn't sure why he
said it, because he knew, but he wanted the guy to confirm it.
"No, Your Highness. Dustin."
"Right. I was just...the names are similar. You were at the ball."
"Yes, Your Highness." Dustin suddenly wished he hadn't mentioned that. What if
the prince asked who invited him? And then what if he said something to David?
"Well, this was fun. You were awesome."
Dustin got the message that it was time for him to leave. He would have liked
to take a shower first—he had just realized he reeked of sex and coconuts—but
the smell was probably already on his clothes anyway.
.
Elliott was talking to yet another customer who had heard about the prince's
offer and wanted to know whether it was true and how he could get in on it when
he saw trouble walk in the front door of his establishment. "Oh, shit," he
muttered to himself, walking away from the guy who was still in the middle of
talking. The worst thing was that he'd brought this on himself. Well, himself
and the prince...but mostly himself, because Prince Samuel could easily handle
the Count of Smythe.
"Smythe!" he called out in greeting, extending his hand. "What a surprise! I
thought you were in Paris!"
The count shook Elliott's hand and handed his coat to a passing waiter. "It's
good to see you," he said, "but don't pretend you're surprised."
"I am!" Elliott insisted.
"You call to tell me that Prince Samuel is bottoming for anyone and everyone
and you don't expect me to show up?"
"I didn't say anyone and everyone. I specifically told you he's only doing it
with men he's never fucked before."
"Men he's never fucked before and you. If he made an exception for you, he'll
make one for me."
"I didn't say that!"
"No, of course not. You're not authorized to make any such offer, I know. I'll
speak to His Highness myself. Is he here?"
Elliott didn't answer. But he may have inadvertently glanced upwards.
"Ah, I see," said Smythe. "He's in your tacky little apartment, right?" The
count headed toward the stairs.
"He's with someone!"
The count stopped. "Oh. Yes, that would be awkward. Very well, then, I'll wait.
Does your bartender know how to make a Sazerac?"
"Why? So you can copy the recipe and try to class up your dive? By the way,
you're going to be waiting for a while. There are three other guys in line
ahead of you."
"Does any of them have a title higher than count?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Then I'm jumping the line."
.
Jake and Ryder were standing at attention out in the hallway. They'd been
expecting Dustin since shortly after the first time Prince Samuel screamed.
They hadn't been expecting to hear him come a second time. When they did, Jake
had whispered, "Maybe he found Darren!" and Ryder whispered back, "I doubt it."
He hoped not anyway. This Dustin guy didn't look like anything special—he
clearly wouldn't make His Highness happy.
The guy came out—finally!—and he looked...he almost looked remorseful. As well
he should be! He had no business toying with Prince Samuel's emotions, trying
to pass himself off as Darren...Okay, Ryder knew the guy didn't know about all
that, but still. Still he probably knew, on some level, that he was taking
unfair advantage of the prince.
"Sir, your shoe is untied," Jake informed him.
"Damn it!" Dustin said. He knelt to tie it. While he was down there, Ryder held
out his cell phone, and when Dustin looked up at him, it struck him where he
recognized the guy from. The ball! He'd had a mask on at the time, but Ryder
was certain this was the guy who he'd seen from the same angle, kneeling in the
middle of the ballroom with the prince's tailor! Which meant this scumbag was
engaged! Or pre-engaged, or whatever Señor Martinez had called it.
Ryder wasn't going to tell the prince—not unless it turned out he somehow still
thought this guy was Darren—but he was damn sure going to let this Dustin guy
know he knew. He waited until the guy started down the stairs and then called
after him, "By the way, congratulations, Mr. Goolsby! Señor Martinez told me
the good news!" Dustin hesitated for a moment. Then, without turning around to
acknowledge even having heard, he flew down the rest of the stairs.
Elliott was trying to watch for Dustin, but he also had a bar to run, and by
the time he spotted him, Smythe was already halfway up the back staircase.
Elliott has to ditch another patron mid-conversation to run after him. He found
him at the top of the stairs, flirting with one of the guards.
"I heard the prince hired a hunky new guard since my last visit," he was saying
to Ryder. "If I'd known how hunky I would've come back a lot sooner."
Ryder stood there impassively. Jake, however, said, "I see you haven't changed,
Seba-...Lord Smythe."
"Not a bit," Smythe said. "And my invitation to you still stands, too, if you
ever want to take a walk on the gay side. I'm not even underage anymore."
"Thank you, sir. I'll keep it in mind."
Jake turned to Mr. Gilbert. "Did you send Lord Smythe up to..." he started
uncertainly. The count definitely didn't qualify as someone the prince had
never had sex with. Mr. Gilbert had to know that, right?
"No, I absolutely did not! He barged up here all on his own."
"That's true," Lord Smythe said with a smile. "Mr. Gilbert failed to extend me
the courtesy of inviting me up to say hello to my old friend, the prince. But
tell him I'm here, won't you? I came all the way from Paris."
Ryder looked to Jake, who nodded. It was possible His Highness wouldn't want to
see the count, but he wouldn't want to not be told he was there. Jake knocked
and, not getting an answer, opened the door slightly. He heard the shower
running. He asked Lord Smythe to wait and walked inside. "Your Highness?" he
called from outside the bathroom door. "It's Jake."
"Did Elliott send the next guy up already?" the prince called back. "I was
going to call him when I was ready."
"Not exactly, Your Highness, but there is someone here. I can wait until you're
done."
The water stopped a minute later and soon after that the prince, wearing only a
towel, opened the bathroom door. "Can you hand me my pants?" he asked. "Who is
it?"
"The Count of Smythe, Your Highness."
"Dude, are you shitting me?"
"No, Your Highness."
Jake looked away, trying to locate the prince's pants, and while his head was
turned the prince rushed out into the hallway, still in just his towel.
"Sebastian!" he exclaimed, right before he engulfed the count in a bear hug.
"My God, I haven't seen you in forever! What are you doing here?"
"I didn't invite him, Your Highness!"
The prince looked at Mr. Gilbert with evident confusion. "It's fine, Elliott.
Me and Sebastian go way back."
"'Me and Sebastian'!? What would Mr. Carlisle say if he could hear you?"
"He wouldn't say shit because we ain't English-teacher-and-student no more,
we're prince-and-subject. Jesus, Sebastian, come on in!"
Jake, meanwhile, had found the prince's clothes. "Your pants, Your Highness,"
he said, holding them out.
"Huh? Oh, thanks, Jake. You can just put them down wherever."
Jake laid them on the bed and retreated to the hallway.
Sebastian couldn't take his eyes off Sam in that little towel. Jesus Christ, he
had missed this sight. In high school Sam had been remarkably well built for
his age, but now he was even hotter. Sam casually dropped the towel then, and
Sebastian forced himself not to stare. Just a tiny peek before the pants went
on. Holy fuck. And the fact that the apartment—and Sam himself, Sebastian was
pretty sure—smelled like coconut was doing nothing to help Sebastian act cool.
He knew perfectly well what Sam used coconut oil for.
"So why are you here?" Sam asked, pulling his shirt on. "I mean, I'm happy to
see you, just...you couldn't be bothered to come to my ball, but you show up
now? Or wait...did you go to the ball, even though you RSVPed regrets?"
"No, I wasn't there, and I do regret it badly now. I wish I could have gotten
in on your...experimental phase? I wish I could have gotten in on it earlier. I
have to admit it rankles a bit that Elliott got to be first."
"Wait, that's why you're here!?"
"Yes, of course! You're finally bottoming and you thought I wouldn't be
interested?"
"How did you even hear about that?"
"Elliott called me."
"He what!? God damn it, I told him I'm only doing it with guys I've never
fucked."
"Yeah, he told me that. But Sam." Sebastian was technically supposed to call
Sam "Your Highness" now, but he wanted to remind him of how close they'd once
been. Besides, he still thought of him as Sam. "Sam, I was your first. You knew
I always wanted to top, but I never pushed—"
"You pushed a little."
"Fine, I pushed a little, but I respected that you didn't think it was
appropriate for a prince to take it. But now that you don't apparently have
those qualms anymore, now that you're taking it from strangers...why wouldn't
you want to let me?"
"It's not that I don't want to. It's just that...there are so many guys I
haven't already had sex with, and if I include everyone I already have...I
mean, that's a lot more to include, and it would be such a waste of time."
Sebastian stood up a little straighter. "Pardon me, Your Highness, if I never
thought our time together was wasted."
"I didn't mean it like that, Sebastian. There are just potentially so many guys
to get through and—"
"But why? And what's the rush? And why would you make an exception for Elliott
and not for me?"
"Because...You know what, Sebastian? I have my reasons, and I don't have to
explain them to you."
"I see, Your Highness. I apologize if I was out of line."
"Well...you were. But don't worry about it. We're old friends, like you said.
I'd love to receive you at the palace tomorrow morning. We can have coffee and
catch up, if you're free."
"Yes, I'm free." He'd traveled home just to see the prince; it wasn't as if he
had other plans.
"Great. Talk to Jake...no, talk to Ryder, and he'll put something in my
calendar. Now if you'll excuse me. There's some stranger waiting to fuck me."
***** Hopelessly Devoted to Prince Samuel *****
Chapter Notes
     For those who don't remember who Benjamin was on Glee: He was the
     NYADA student who resigned as Cassandra July's TA in "The New
     Rachel," paving the way for Brody to be her new TA.
     The Trent mentioned in this chapter is not the Trent from canon.
Elliott had wanted to explain, to make sure Prince Samuel really knew that he
did not tell Smythe that he could fuck him, but he'd been basically shooed away
before he got the chance. Maybe it was just as well, though. The prince would
have no doubt asked the obvious question: Why did you call him in the first
place? And really the only answer was that he'd wanted to brag. It was a thing
he and Smythe did with each other: gloat. But Prince Samuel might not like that
Elliott's gloating in this case had involved him. And that sucked. Especially
since the prince was already not happy with him for sending up someone older
than he wanted. Someone older and—if Elliott was being honest—very unlikely to
qualify as "almost a virgin" under any reasonable definition.
Another customer approached him to ask if the rumor going around the club was
true. Elliott already had several guys lined up, and he didn't want to deal
with another right now. But this guy looked pretty young—younger than the
others in line—so he confirmed it, specifying, "He's only looking for guys who
he hasn't already had sex with."
"Ha, I wish!" Benjamin had just moved to the capital. Out in the province he
was from, no one had any idea Prince Samuel was even gay. "Has he actually had
sex with lots of men?"
Elliott laughed. "You could say that. But he's looking for guys who..." Elliott
knew he had to start screening the guys better, but he couldn't bring himself
to use the phrase almost a virgin. He remembered a better phrase the prince had
just used: "He wants guys who are not very experienced."
"Experienced?"
Elliott suppressed an exasperated sigh. "At fucking other men."
"Oh, that!" Benjamin blushed. "No, I..." He'd only ever topped once before, and
it was a total disaster. It was why Trent ran off to go to business college in
the capital, Benjamin was pretty sure. That's why he was here: to win Trent
back. And why he was here, specifically, at this gay bar, was to try to pick up
a man to fuck. Duffy had told him he had to butch the hell up if he wanted
another chance with Trent. Butch the hell up and learn how to fuck a guy
without...well, what had happened before. The fact that on his very first night
of trying, the prince himself was inviting commoners to fuck him...well,
obviously it was a sign. Benjamin didn't use to believe in signs or any kind of
weird or "magical" stuff, but obviously that was before he met Duffy.
"So...you're not?" Elliott asked. "You kind of trailed off."
"Oh, sorry. No. I've only ever done that once." He wasn't going to share the
humiliating details unless he was specifically asked.
"Really?" Elliott asked, not quite believing his luck. If it was true, this guy
was like the exact definition of "almost a virgin." "Just one time?"
"Is that okay?"
"Are you kidding? It's perfect! Wait, let me see your ID." After last night's
incident he'd made all his bouncers sit through training on spotting fake IDs
and threatened to fire anyone who fucked up again, but he wanted to make sure.
Luckily Benjamin's checked out. "You're next."
.
Sunshine was nothing like Blaine pictured the type of girl Dani would go for.
He guessed he had pictured someone more like Dani herself, but Sunshine was
very...boyish. Butch—like with very short hair and boy clothes including a
tie—but also super short—under five feet probably—and baby-faced. The bouncer
at the karaoke bar scrutinized the hell out of her ID before letting them in.
But, holy crap, that tiny, boyish lesbian could sing! She absolutely killed a
couple Adele songs, earning a standing ovation from the audience, who mostly
weren't paying attention when anyone before her sang. Dani was swooning. Blaine
decided there was no way he was going on after her.
"That was amazing!" Blaine said when she rejoined them at their table. "You
should sing professionally!"
"Oh, thanks," she said. "I hope to, actually."
"Sunshine was studying at the royal conservatory, but she had to drop out
because of the tuition," Dani said.
"Oh my God, that sucks!"
Sunshine shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm going to go back as soon as I've saved
enough. I'm making money now coaching rich kids to prepare for their
auditions."
"Really? I actually...well, before I heard you just now I was thinking of
applying."
"You can't afford to go there, Blaine!" Dani said. "I mean, no offense, but I
have a pretty good idea how much you make, and I know your stepmother isn't
willing to help, so..."
Blaine told them about the discovery about his dad. Dani was, if anything, more
outraged on Blaine's behalf than Blaine himself had been. "You have to go now,
Blaine!" she insisted. "You can't let her win!"
"Believe me, I don't want to let her win. But I don't even have any reason to
believe they'd accept me."
"Well, go sing something," Sunshine said. "If I think you have a chance I'll
help you. No charge!"
Blaine hesitated. "You won't just say I'm good just to be nice?"
Sunshine laughed. "I wouldn't tell a paying customer they didn't have a chance.
And I wouldn't tell my girlfriend's friend he sucks just to be 'honest' or
whatever. But I'm not going to offer my professional services for free if it's
hopeless, so yeah, if you're not gonna get in even with my help, I'll tell you
that."
So Blaine decided what the hell and got up and sang "Hopelessly Devoted to
You." He thought he sounded okay, actually, considering how long it had been
since he had really practiced. But he had been out of practice for a while, so
he was nervous about hearing Sunshine's opinion when he rejoined the table.
"I've helped way worse singers get in," she said, "but you need to rehearse.
Like a lot."
"Yeah," Blaine said sadly.
"Dude, did you not hear the part about how it's totally doable? With practice?
If you want my help, that is, and I'll only do it if you're really serious, and
I'll have to work you in around my paying customers, but...yeah, you definitely
have a shot."
"Um...yeah. Yeah, I'm serious!" Blaine hadn't realized it until that very
moment, but he was serious.
"Great!" She punched him in the arm and stood up. To Dani she said,
"Sweetheart, would you excuse me? I have to go to the little boys' room."
When she was gone, Blaine raised his eyebrows questioningly at Dani. "Oh, shut
up," Dani said. "She just says that as a joke."
"Well, she seems great. You can't break up with her now, you know, cause then
she'd make me pay for her coaching."
"Shut up, why would I want to break up with her? She's so great, don't you
think she's great?"
"I think she's great."
"Yeah," Dani agreed dreamily. "But what about you? What was with that song? Are
you hung up on someone you haven't even told me about?"
"It's just a song, Dani."
"It didn't sound like just a song. Not the way you sang it."
"Fine. You caught me. I'm hopelessly devoted to Prince Samuel."
Dani shook her head sympathetically. "We need to find you a real boyfriend,
babe."
.
Not having regular sex with Sam sucked. However, Kurt was enjoying watching Sam
get fucked over and over. Elliott fucking him had been hot. Spencer fucking him
had been super hot. Kurt wasn't actually supposed to enjoy seeing his
godchildren get hurt, but Sam hadn't really been hurt. Anyway, every guy so far
had had his charms, but none of them had Kurt as excited as when Sebastian
showed up.
Sebastian had always been one of Kurt's favorites of Sam's lovers. As in, a
favorite to watch Sam with and a favorite for Kurt himself to fuck. Or rather,
be fucked by. Sebastian was weird about bottoming just like Sam was, but since
he wasn't Kurt's godchild, it wasn't Kurt's job to try to convince him to
expand his horizons.
So Kurt was furious to see Sam turn down what might have been the best fuck of
his life. Okay, he knew Sam would still say "Darren" was the best, but if he
could be objective about it—and if he had given him a chance, for fuck's
sake—he would probably have to say Sebastian. This wasn't even about Kurt's
personal frustration at not getting to watch. It was a tiny bit about that,
maybe, but mostly it was about the amazing experience Sam was denying himself.
How the hell was Sam ever going to accept that he was a gay man who liked to
take it in the ass if he didn't let one of the best assfuckers out there have a
crack at him? Kurt was just about to pop in and explain all this when Elliott
showed up with the next guy.
.
Elliott spoke to the prince while the guards were checking out the almost-
virgin, Benjamin. "He's nineteen, Your Highness. And he specifically told me
that he's only ever fucked one guy."
"Great, Elliott. Thanks."
Prince Samuel barely looked at him. It was killing Elliott to know the prince
was so displeased with him. "Your Highness, if you'll please let me apologize.
It was completely out of line for me to call the Count of Smythe, and I—"
"It's fine," Sam said. He really wished Elliott hadn't called him, because
saying no to Sebastian had sucked. But Elliott hadn't actually done anything
wrong. "I asked you to spread the word, right?"
"Yes, Your Highness." That was true. He'd specifically asked him not to be
discreet!
"And it's probably good that he knows. Maybe he'll let me use his place by
Corner Pocket." Sam didn't add if I don't find Darren tonight because he felt
it was almost impossible that he'd be that lucky.
"Probably, Your Highness, if that's what you want." Corner Pocket was the gay
bar the count owned. He didn't manage it himself, but he did keep an apartment
nearby. A full apartment, much nicer than Elliott's little one-room above
Starchild. Of course, Corner Pocket itself was totally seedy, nothing like
Starchild. Elliott wondered if the prince's threatening to go there instead was
an indication of just how displeased he actually was with him, despite saying
he wasn't. "Shall I send Benjamin in?"
"Yeah, thanks." Sam knew he should be happier about this Benjamin guy. Nineteen
years old, confirmed almost-virgin. Sam needed to stop thinking about Sebastian
and start thinking about this guy who could really be Darren!
Benjamin actually looked a little like Darren. He had roughly the same hair
color anyway. And his skin tone was...
No. Sam wasn't going to try to analyze the details of how Benjamin looked or
talked or acted. He didn't have any time to waste. That was why he'd sent
Sebastian away, right? "I hope you don't mind if we get right to it," he said.
"I'm already ready."
"Yes, sir...uh, Your Highness." Benjamin had bowed when the bar owner presented
him, but he wondered if he had to keep doing it every so often. Just to be
safe, he bowed again now. To be safe and, maybe, to stall a little
because...well, he wasn't ready. He'd expected there to be foreplay! At least
fingering and lubing. He'd never gotten himself ready in advance for another
guy to just start fucking right away...and no guy he'd been with had ever
complained about that. Was it something you were supposed to do? Maybe he just
didn't know any better because he was a hick from the provinces. Shit, how was
he supposed to just get hard on command? Not that the prince wasn't hot or
anything but now he was all nervous, which wasn't helping!
Sam took off his clothes again. Maybe he'd start just wearing a robe in between
guys. Or at least a shirt without buttons. Damn, why was he assuming this was
going to keep going on? Benjamin could be Darren, he reminded himself! He was
the right age, he'd only had sex once...
And he was still dressed. Sam got his clothes off and saw he wasn't even hard
yet! That was weird. Well, it was weird if he was Darren. It was weird if he
was Darren and if Darren felt the way about Sam that Sam felt about him. Though
Sam had to admit this encounter wasn't exactly romantic like at the ball.
Darren was probably into romance more than just sex. Sam was going to have to
figure out how to be romantic; he'd never done that before.
But not tonight; not when he wasn't even sure this was Darren. He sat on the
edge of the bed and sucked Benjamin's dick until it was hard. And he tried not
to notice how it felt and tasted nothing like Darren's. It wasn't like there
was anything wrong with it; it was a totally fine dick. Just not Darren-like.
Oh, okay! This was the foreplay, then. A prince was going down on him, wow! And
he was really good at it, too. This wasn't going to be nearly as hard...as
difficult as Benjamin had feared. He just had to not think about how amazing
Prince Samuel's cock looked and how incredible it would feel in his ass. Or,
wait, maybe he should think about it, maybe imagining them doing it that way
would help him stay hard while...No! There was no way he was not going to stay
hard. He had to stop even considering that as a possibility.
Prince Samuel let Benjamin's cock out of his mouth pretty much as soon as it
was fully hard. Benjamin tried not to be too disappointed by that. It was
hard...difficult not to be a little disappointed, though. Having the prince
suck him off would have been almost as good as having the prince fuck him. But
he got to fuck the prince, which was even better (supposedly)! Because he was
butch enough, and he could top a guy successfully. Especially when the guy in
question was the hottest royal not just in this kingdom but any on earth.
Oh, God. Benjamin was going to try to top royalty? What the hell was he
thinking!?
Thinking, that was his problem. Less thinking, more fucking, as Duffy would
tell him. Prince Samuel was on his hands and knees, just waiting to take his
cock. Benjamin just had to stand...kneel? No, Prince Samuel's knees were right
on the edge of the bed, so there wouldn't be room for Benjamin to kneel behind
him...so, yeah, stand behind the prince, between his legs, and put it in. (How
did guys who topped all the time figure out the logistics?)
"You ready, Benjamin?"
"Yes, Your Maj-...Highness." Yep, he was ready. As ready as he'd ever be, he
guessed. He stood behind the prince, and he had to kind of bend his knees a
little bit, but it wasn't too hard...difficult to get himself lined up. He just
held his dick up to the prince's asshole and guided it in with his hand. The
prince opened up for him nice and smoothly—it was easy! Easy and good, like
jerking himself, but tighter and hotter. Although he usually liked to shove a
dildo up his ass before he jerked off...
This was not Darren. Sam was sure of it immediately. He knew he hadn't really
had an open mind with Benjamin, that if Benjamin had come to him before
Sebastian he'd be focusing on all the promising signs, but...but Kurt had said
that when Darren's dick was in him again he'd know. And he didn't know. It
didn't feel like anything, really, except some random dick up his ass. He just
hoped Benjamin was going to finish soon so he could move on to the next guy.
Benjamin was messing it up again. Prince Samuel wasn't enjoying it at all, he
could tell. He wasn't moving or making any noises. Oh God, Benjamin was the
worst top in the world.
Wait, was Benjamin done already? It was what Sam had wanted, but he didn't even
feel him come. He was definitely pulling out, though. Sam looked over his
shoulder to see if the guy was just trying to switch to a different position.
That wasn't it. The guy either had come already—without Sam noticing—or he had
just lost his hard-on. He was crying, and when he saw Sam look at him he
covered his face with his hands and went from crying to sobbing. "I'm so sorry,
Your Highness!" he said...or at least that's what Sam gathered he was trying to
say.
"Hey, it's okay." Sam stood and put an arm around his shoulder. That didn't
help much, so he wrapped both arms around him and held him until he wasn't
sobbing so hard. He felt terrible. He was the one who'd been distracted and
aloof, and now this poor kid was blaming himself for the sex not being good.
"It's not your fault, I was—"
"I guess I'm not cut out to top," Benjamin said haltingly. "I can try again if
you...Oh, who am I kidding? I'm always going to be a bottom!"
"You're a bottom? There's nothing wrong with that, you know." A lot of Sam's
favorite men were strictly bottoms.
Benjamin covered his mouth, realizing he'd just insulted the prince, who was
apparently a bottom too. So wait, maybe it wasn't so bad. Except... "Yeah, but
Duffy told me I had to learn to top if I wanted Trent to like me again."
Sam had no idea what to say about that...not having a clue who Duffy and Trent
were. "Well...maybe if Trent only likes to bottom too, but..."
"Oh, no. He's fucked me a bunch of times, and it was awesome."
Wait, hadn't this guy supposedly only had sex once before!? Sam guessed that
didn't matter right now, though. "So then...what's the problem, exactly?"
"Well, Duffy said—"
"Wait, who's Duffy?"
"Duffy's my cat."
"Your cat."
"Yeah. Well, sort of mine. He was a stray, but now he lives with me."
"And he has an opinion on your sex life?"
"Oh, yeah. He's a talking cat."
"Okay. How does that make him an expert on your relationship with Trent?"
"Well, like...he talks. So he's magic?"
"Yeah, but does he have a boyfriend? Is he even gay?"
"No. I mean, he's neutered, so..."
"So what the hell does he know? It sounds to me like your cat just likes to
hear himself talk. Just tell him if you want his opinion on mice or something
you'll ask for it, and otherwise he should shut the fuck up. Look, if you want
to top more, you should go for it. And don't let tonight discourage you,
because I was...well, hardly the ideal partner. Meanwhile why don't you call
Trent and ask him to come over and fuck your brains out?"
Benjamin sniffled. He felt like he should be embarrassed, but he really wasn't.
Especially since the prince didn't even seem to think he was crazy because of
the talking cat thing, which most people did. "Thank you, Your Highness. If you
didn't already have a job you'd make a really great advice columnist or
something."
.
Kurt appeared the second Benjamin was gone. "What the hell do you think you're
doing?" he demanded.
"Thinking of calling it a night, if you must know." It was still early, and
he'd really only been properly fucked once, but he just wasn't in the mood
anymore.
"What the hell were you thinking, sending Sebastian away? Just so you'd have
more time to let that crazy twink attempt and fail to fuck you? How was that
guy better than Sebastian?"
"It's not Benjamin's fault he's not Sebastian. He seemed like a sweet kid."
"He claims to have a talking cat, Sam! That's some psycho shit."
"...said the actual fairy," Sam said.
"Fairies are real. Talking cats are not!"
Sam shrugged. He actually thought there was a good chance they were
real—Quinn's friend Brittany used to tell him stories about her cat when he was
younger, and she swore they were true and not just made-up children's
stories—but he didn't much care either way.
"Don't shrug at me. Fairies have a rich and ancient culture, which you're one
of the few privileged humans to even get a glimpse of, whereas the idea of a
common housecat that can talk is just so absurd that...that..."
"Fine. Benjamin is crazy and talking cats don't exist. Is that why you're
here?"
Kurt took a deep breath. Talking cats indeed! But Sam was right, that wasn't
why he was here. "I'm here to yell at you about Sebastian! How could you send
him away? Have you lost your damn mind?"
"What, you think I wanted to send him away?" Sam never would have admitted it
back in high school, not even to himself, but he'd always wanted Sebastian to
fuck him. At least once he learned from Kurt that taking it could feel amazing.
"But if I'm ever going to find Darren—"
"Aha! You admit you wanted Sebastian to fuck you."
"Yes, of course. That's not the point. The point is—"
"It is the point, Sam. And let me tell you this: this whole...thing you're
doing here? It is not going to work if you keep turning men away, especially
men whose dicks you really want!"
"What...what are you saying, Kurt?"
But Kurt had already disappeared.
.
Blaine didn't work at the bookstore until noon, but he got up at his usual time
to make breakfast for Shelby. He hadn't been planning to. When he'd agreed to
go out with Dani and her girlfriend last night, it had been with the thought
that he could sleep in the next morning, because he was done being Shelby's
personal servant.
But he'd reconsidered in the meantime. He didn't want to make Shelby
suspicious...or at least more suspicious than she probably already was after
the last couple days. Hopefully if he went back to acting like normal, she'd
assume it had all been a fluke. In fact, if she asked him about it, he was
prepared to explain he'd just been upset over seeing Jesse and Rachel go to the
ball when he couldn't. He'd apologize, even, if necessary. But only if
necessary.
As soon as Shelby left for work, Blaine poured himself the last of the extra-
strong coffee and took it with him to the attic. That is, he intended to take
it with him to the attic, but when he realized it would be difficult to climb
up the little ladder without spilling, he drank it all in a few gulps and left
the mug on the hallway floor.
He'd never actually been in the attic before. He'd never had much desire to,
and his childhood curiosity about what it was like up there had been replaced
by fear of the bats Shelby told him lived there. He didn't see any bats now. If
there actually were any—if Shelby hadn't just made that up to scare him—they'd
be asleep now anyway, right? And he wasn't planning to be loud enough to
disturb them (if they existed); he just needed to find his dad's old papers,
something that proved he had worked at the royal conservatory. He knew Shelby
hadn't kept much of his dad's, but there had to be some papers, right? And
since he had never seen any—and he was the one who did all the cleaning and
knew where everything was stored everywhere else in the house—they had to be in
the attic. Right?
Well, there were a lot of boxes up here. And they weren't labeled well, so he
just had to kind of look through all of them. He found tons of mementos from
Jesse and Rachel's childhoods and other random junk. Just before he had to give
up for the day, he found a sealed envelope that said "MATT'S INSURANCE" on it.
He almost didn't even take it with him, since he knew Shelby had already long
ago spent the money. But then he realized the policy might have been issued by
the conservatory, or might at least have listed it somewhere as his employer,
so he figured it was worth taking with him and looking at on his break.
.
Sebastian showed up at the palace feeling pretty confident. He was usually able
to get what he wanted from men. In fact, if it had been anyone other than Sam,
he would just be confident, no need to qualify it with pretty. But it was Sam,
it was Prince Samuel, so...
The hunky new guard met him in the grand hall. Maybe if Sam insisted on being a
stubborn ass, Ryder could be a consolation prize. The guy hadn't said much, but
Sebastian was almost certain he was gay.
Ryder led him to a salon with a large balcony that overlooked the gardens. "His
Highness will be here soon, sir. Please have a seat."
"Thank you, Ryder." Sebastian placed his hand on the guard's shoulder. The
guard's muscular shoulder. "You've been very kind." Ryder didn't say anything
in response, but the way he tensed up under the touch told Sebastian everything
he needed to know. It wasn't the tensing of someone who didn't like being
touched; on the contrary, it was the tensing of someone who didn't want to
betray how much he did like it.
Ryder left, and Sebastian sat near the table where all the coffee things had
been laid out. He wondered vaguely if the coffee was going to get cold. He had
a feeling Sam was going to keep him waiting a while, just because he could. But
Sam surprised him by coming in just a minute or two later. Sebastian stood and
bowed...or he started to bow anyway, but Sam said, "Hey, come on, none of
that!" and wrapped him up in a hug instead. A very close hug. Before Sebastian
could really process what was happening, Sam kissed him and breathed heavily
into his ear. "Do you still want me?"
"God, yes!" Sebastian answered. He had no idea what had changed Sam's mind—it
wasn't his powers of seduction because he hadn't even said a word—but he had
the feeling this wasn't the time to ask. Unless..."You're not just messing with
me, right? You're not going to want to top at the last minute?"
Sam started untying Sebastian's tie. "I want you inside me."
"Fuck, Sam, I've wanted this for so long. I've thought about it so many
times..."
Sam backed up enough to look Sebastian in the eye. "But you only get to do it
once." Kurt really hadn't left him any choice about letting Sebastian do it
once. Kurt's comment that the whole thing wouldn't work if Sam turned guys
away...Sam had been going over that in his head all last night and all this
morning, and really the only way he could take it was as a threat that if he
didn't let Sebastian (and any other guy who wanted to!) fuck him, Kurt was
going to interfere somehow and make it so he would never find Darren. And Sam
didn't actually mind—at least not with Sebastian, who he had wanted to get
fucked by for a long time—but he still wasn't going to do it more than he had
to. He just hoped Sebastian wasn't getting his hopes up for anything more than
that. "You know it's just once, right?"
"If that's what you want," Sebastian said. He didn't know why it had to be only
one time—he would gladly fuck Sam every day from now until they were both old
and decrepit—but he would take what he could get. Besides, who was to say Sam
wouldn't later change his mind on this point as well?
Sam pulled off his sweater and started on the buttons to Sebastian's shirt.
"We're doing this here?" Sebastian asked. Normally he wouldn't care where they
did it, but if Sam actually was serious about this being the only time...
"Can't we go to your bedroom?"
"No!" Sam liked Sebastian a lot, and he would do stuff for him that he wouldn't
do for most guys, but there was no way he was ever again letting anyone else in
his own bed besides Darren. "Don't worry, no one will disturb us here. Ryder's
just outside."
"No, I'm not worried, I just..." Sebastian knew he shouldn't press his luck
with special requests. But all these years he'd been picturing this moment a
very specific way. "Remember back in school, we tried a few different positions
at first, but then when you found your favorite that was how you fucked me
pretty much every time?"
"Heh, yeah. I wasn't great at variety back then. But if you could have seen how
hot you looked like...oh! You want to bend me over the edge of the bed?"
"I'm sure you'll look at least as hot as I did that way."'
Sam laughed. "I don't know about that, but..." So Sebastian was feeling
nostalgic? Sam knew just the room to take him to. "Follow me."
Sebastian followed as Sam strode shirtless out into the hall, not even having
bothered to pick up the sweater he'd dropped on a chair.
In the hallway they ran into Princess Quinn and, holding her mother's hand,
Princess Matilda. (At least Sebastian thought the girl looked too young to be
Princess Beth, but then he was rarely around children.) Tie loose and shirt
partially unbuttoned, he bowed and said, "Good morning, Your Highnesses."
Princess Quinn didn't even act surprised or seem to notice what state he and
the prince were in. She shook his hand and said, "Sebastian? It's lovely to see
you again. Last I heard you were in Paris. How is it there?"
Sebastian started to answer but Sam asked his sister to please excuse them and
pulled him away by the hand.
"Well, that was awkward," Sebastian said once they were out of earshot.
"What was? Oh, you mean seeing Quinn? Nah, she doesn't suspect anything."
"You're not wearing a shirt," Sebastian pointed out.
"Yeah, but Quinn's oblivious to that kind of stuff. She probably just thinks I
spilled coffee on my sweater or something."
"Okay." Sebastian had a hard time believing Princess Quinn was that oblivious.
She was a married woman with three children, after all. But he wasn't about to
challenge Sam's beliefs on the innocence of his sister.
Sam led him around a corner and up some stairs and around another corner and
down a hallway. Sebastian had never been to this part of the palace before—in
fact, this was the first time he'd been to any private part of the palace—but
this hallway seemed somehow familiar. He realized why when Sam opened the
bedroom door. "It looks just like..." It was all the same: the layout of the
furniture, the blue-and-red décor... "Your bedroom looks just like our old dorm
rooms!?"
Sam laughed. "This isn't my bedroom. My grandfather decorated a couple guest
rooms like this when he sent my father to the academy. You know, for his
friends from school to stay in when they visited."
"Um...wow. So it's true that the academy has never redecorated the dorm rooms."
"Not since my father was a student, at least," Sam confirmed.
Sebastian wondered why he'd never heard of these dorm-like rooms at the palace.
"Did you have friends from school visit you here a lot?" He hoped the question
didn't sound jealous.
"No. Never, in fact. Quinn used to—there are rooms that look like the girls'
academy dorm rooms, but they're in a different wing, obviously—but I
just...Honestly, I didn't want my parents to find out the kind of things I was
doing with you and the other guys, so it just seemed safer not to invite
anyone."
"So...this is kind of like a second chance for both of us. A chance for you to
not worry about what His Majesty thinks, and a chance for me to have you the
way I've always wanted you."
"I guess," Sam said.
"You guess?"
"I mean I already don't worry about my father finding out anymore—and I know
where he's likely to be and how to avoid him—but...it is a second chance for me
too. I mean...tell anyone this and I'll deny it, but I've always wanted you
this way too."
"Then why the hell..." No. Sebastian wasn't going to ask. He didn't want to
talk anymore right now. He grabbed Sam and kissed him hard, and Sam kissed him
back with equal force. Soon they had removed each other's clothes, and
Sebastian laid Sam down on his back.
Sam looked up at Sebastian, who was on top of him now. "I thought you wanted to
take me the way I used to take you."
"I do," Sebastian said, "And I'm going to." He kissed him again, grinding
against him as he did. "But don't you remember? The guy who's about to get
fucked gets blown first. It's only fair."
"You don't have to..." Wait, what the hell was Sam saying? Sure, it wasn't
necessary, but Sebastian gave really good blow jobs. "But, I mean, if you want
to..."
Sebastian kissed Sam's neck and said, "I thought so." Sam couldn't see his face
but was certain he was smirking.
Sebastian took his time kissing and licking and sucking his way down Sam's body
toward his crotch. Sam was impatient at first, until he remembered that there
was no next guy waiting for his turn, that he really could just lie back and
enjoy this—which was nice, because Sebastian had gotten even better at this
since high school. He had Sam moaning way before reaching his dick. And when he
did reach his dick...Jesus.
Sam's dick was as great as ever. Sebastian wished he hadn't been so concerned
with whether things were "fair" in high school and had spent more time blowing
Sam, because even when Sam didn't reciprocate, it was pretty great. He was in
no hurry to make Sam come yet, and he licked and teased and tasted and played
for...well, for as long as Sam could stand it before he grabbed the back of
Sebastian's head, held it in place, and said, "Please suck." He sucked, and Sam
started thrusting up into his mouth. Sebastian held his hips down because he
really wanted to be the one in charge this time, but he sucked harder to make
up for Sam's lack of ability to thrust.
Sam needed to come. He needed to come and he needed to thrust, but he couldn't
thrust and that somehow made him need to come even more. With his hips pinned
to the mattress and his fingernails scratching at Sebastian's scalp, Sam gasped
as his release overtook him.
Sebastian sucked up Sam's come eagerly, overwhelmed by the familiar taste and
feel of it. He swallowed the last few drops, then kissed his way back up Sam's
chest and neck. Resting his forehead against Sam's, he said, "I could so get
used to this again."
"Sebastian, don't..." Sam said, placing his hand gently on the back of his
friend's neck.
"No, no, I get it. One-time deal, whatever. I mean, it's your loss."
"Totally." Sam kissed him lightly. "Do you still want to fuck me?"
"You don't really think you have to ask, do you?" Sebastian's question was even
more rhetorical than Sam's, and he didn't wait for a response before flipping
the prince onto his stomach. There it was. The ass he'd wanted to get inside
for so long. He kissed down Sam's back, trying to go slowly and not rush things
(though he had been waiting literally years already!).
Sam realized suddenly that he'd left the coconut oil in the salon. He kept some
strategically stashed in various guest rooms throughout the palace, but not
this one, which he had never used with a guy before. He was about to say
something when he felt Sebastian's mouth on his ass, and then not on it so much
as in it. "God, Sebastian."
Sebastian loved the way Sam yielded to his tongue. Not loose but pliant. As
much as he loved rimming him he knew fucking him was going to be so much
better. He didn't want to rush, but he couldn't wait any longer. Oh no, he'd
forgotten about... "Sam, please tell me you have some of that coconut oil you
like so much."
Sam groaned, in part because he'd forgotten about the oil again, but mostly
because Sebastian had stopped rimming him. He went to the door and opened it,
knowing Ryder would be there. "Hey, man, can you do me a favor? I forgot
the..." Ryder silently held out the jar Sam had left behind in the salon. Sam
took it and patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks, dude. You're the best."
Sebastian noticed that Sam didn't make any attempt to cover up or stand behind
the door when he talked to his guard, so Sebastian didn't try to move out of
view either. Actually he was sort of hoping to catch Ryder surreptitiously
checking him out, but he wore a perfect poker face.
Before Sam could rejoin him on the bed, Sebastian got up. He pressed Sam up
against the door and kissed him long and hard. Sam wrapped his arms around him,
letting the oil jar fall in the process. When they separated from the kiss, Sam
bent over to pick up the jar (which Sebastian totally should have done—he was
aware of the rules of protocol, after all), and Sebastian stood behind him and
grabbed his ass. It was so tempting to just fuck him like this, but he did have
his heart set on the prince being bent over the bed specifically. Sam handed
him the oil and moved to stand at the foot of the bed. He started to bend
forward but then stop and asked, "Or do you want to push me down?"
Oh God! Sam didn't use to push him down every time, just when he was extra
horny. Sebastian was kind of surprised Sam even remembered that detail, as it
hadn't seemed like a big deal to him at the time. It was a big enough deal to
Sebastian that he usually included it whenever he imagined turning the tables
on Sam. But now it wasn't as appealing as the idea—one that Sebastian hadn't
even seriously entertained until today—that Sam didn't need to be pushed, that
he would bend over for Sebastian willingly, even eagerly. "No," he said. "Why
don't you get yourself into position for me?"
Sam lowered his upper half onto the bed and spread his legs. And then he did
something that really killed Sebastian: he reached back, grabbed his own ass
cheeks, and exposed his hole to Sebastian. "Holy fuck," Sebastian muttered, as
he started to lube up the prince's welcoming hole.
"Come on, Sebastian." Sebastian was good at this. Sam had known he would be.
He'd known and he'd heard—the two of them had fucked a lot of the same guys
over the years. So it wasn't that Sam wanted him to stop with his fingers, it
was that he wanted him to start with his cock. "Come on, I'm ready."
"Ready? Ready seems to be an understatement. I'd say you're desperate for me to
fuck you. You want it bad, don't you?"
Okay. Sam knew Sebastian was on some kind of power trip from getting to fuck
him, and mostly he was happy to indulge him, but it was getting to be too much.
"Yeah, I want it, but if you don't want to give it to me there are hundreds of
other guys who do."
Sebastian knew it, he knew Sam was going to find some way to put him in his
place. "I beg your pardon, Your Highness."
"Come on, Sebastian." Sam didn't actually want him to go. "Don't be li-...Oh!
Oh god, that's good. Fuck, just like that!" Sebastian had filled him in one
smooth motion. He really was good at this.
Ha, Sam did want it just as bad as Sebastian did. Oh God he felt good.
Sebastian wasn't even upset any more that he wasn't Sam's first. It meant he
didn't have to go slowly. He decided not to even tell Sam to tell him if it was
too much. Sam wasn't some inexperienced kid who was scared to speak up for
himself. And it certainly didn't seem to be too much. God, look at him, taking
Sebastian's cock like a pro. His arm and back muscles were tense and he had the
navy quilt bunched up in his hands, but he was bucking back against Sebastian
as much as he could in his compromised position. Without saying so he was
basically begging for even more.
Sebastian was not letting up for a second; it was perfect. Just this side of
being too intense.
Sam started to scream into the mattress, and it was such music to Sebastian's
ears. He hoped it meant Sam was about to come. Sebastian was determined not to
let go first, but there was only so much longer he could hold out. "That's it,
come for me, Sam. Please come for me." Sam's channel constricted and his body
began to quake, and Sebastian thought he would die.
And then he did die...in the Shakespearean/Cutting Crew sense. His explosive
climax left him not only speechless but also breathless, and all he could do
was drape himself over Sam's back and weakly kiss the back of his neck.
"It felt like you shot a ton of jizz inside me," Sam said after a minute. "As
soon as you take your cock out I bet it comes gushing out."
"Then I guess I'll never take my cock out," Sebastian whispered. Whispering was
all he had the breath for. "Keep you full of my jizz forever."
Sam didn't reply to that. He knew Sebastian wasn't serious, but still, why
burst his bubble right away?
.
"If it isn't my favorite princess!" Finn enthused, quickly locking his computer
screen when his wife and daughter entered the room unexpectedly. "Come give
Daddy a hug!"
Matilda ran and jumped into her father's arms, while Quinn shook her head and
said, "Darling, you can't tell each of them she's your favorite. It will turn
them against each other."
"What? I can have three favorite princesses."
"Three?"
"Three favorite princesses and a favorite future queen."
"I'll be queen when Beth dies!" Matilda said.
"Matilda, we don't say such things," Quinn scolded her. To Finn she added, "See
what you started?"
"What can I do for two of my four favorite princesses?"
Before Quinn could answer, there was a knock. Answering it, she saw it was the
nanny she'd summoned. "Matilda, honey, Dottie's here to take you back to the
nursery."
Matilda's face dropped. "But you said you'd take me for a walk in the garden!"
"Yes, but it's raining so we walked around inside instead. Remember?"
"But I wanted to go outside!"
"That's quite enough, young lady. Off you go." Dottie walked over and took her
hand. "Thank you, Dottie," Quinn said as she watched the nanny lead the girl
out. The crying started as soon as they were out in the hall; Quinn shut the
door.
"Matilda seemed really disappointed," Finn said.
"Yes, but she'll get over it. We can't encourage that kind of back talk. I have
a favor to ask you, darling."
Finn expected as much. Quinn rarely stopped by just to chat. "Anything I can
do," he said.
"Sam has a man here at the palace."
"The one from the ball?"
Quinn frowned. "No, someone he went to high school with." Quinn was sure if
Sebastian had been the man at the ball she would have recognized him, even with
a mask. Besides, the man at the ball had been shorter than Sam, and Sebastian
wasn't. "Can you talk to my brother and find out what's going on? I know he
wouldn't want to talk to me about it. He thinks I've never even heard of s-e-
x."
"What makes you think this high school friend's visit was about s-e-x? Maybe
they were just catching up on old..." Finn saw the look his wife was giving
him. "Okay, yeah, scratch that. It's your brother we're talking about. I can
try talking to him, but what do you want to know, exactly? You've never been
interested in the details of your brother's sex life before."
"That's because I don't care about his sex life. I do care about his romantic
life, however. If he's giving up on the man from the ball, I want to know why
and what we can do to help."
.
Sam had some charity event to get ready for, so Sebastian had to leave.
Sebastian didn't mind, though. Of course he would have liked to stay in bed
with Sam all day, but he knew how it was. There was charity stuff he couldn't
get out of either and he was "only" a count.
The important thing was, he knew he'd be seeing Sam again soon. They were going
to be together. Sebastian had long since given up hope of it ever happening,
but then they made love today and...and Sam felt it too, he knew it. Sam hadn't
wanted him to move afterwards. He'd wanted to stay full of Sebastian's cock and
his come forever.
The Count of Smythe had the biggest smile on his face when His Highness finally
opened the bedroom door. "Ryder will show you out," the prince said. "Thanks
again for coming."
"It was my pleasure," the count said. Ryder looked at the floor while the two
kissed. At least they had pants on now. Ryder was still kicking himself for not
managing to slip the prince his jar of oil before...well.
The count didn't lose the goofy grin as Ryder led him away. "Ryder..." he said,
putting his arm around Ryder's shoulder.
"Yes, sir?"
"Ryder, I'm in love!"
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
Sebastian dropped his arm. "What!?"
Ryder covered his mouth with his hand. He couldn't believe he'd said that out
loud! It was true—he really liked the count for some reason, and he didn't want
to see him get his heart broken—but it was so inappropriate to say anything!
"Nothing."
"You don't think he feels the same way. You heard him scream for me, didn't
you?"
"I apologize if it sounded like I was implying something when I clearly don't
know anything and it's none of my business in any case."
"Damn right you know nothing about it."
"Yes, sir."
"Damn right."
.
Dani smiled when she saw Blaine's number appear on her phone. Her mother was in
the next room so she couldn't talk freely, but still. "Hi, Blaine! How are you
this beautiful sunny afternoon? Don't you love the sunshine?"
"Is it sunny now?" Blaine asked. "I can't see outside from the break room but
earlier it looked like it was going to rain."
Dani sighed. "Fine. But what I mean is, in general don't you love sunshine!?"
It took him a minute to catch on. "Oh yeah, she's the best. Listen, you're not
gonna believe—"
"Do you want me to text you the number to call so you can start your lessons?"
"Yeah, that would be great. Listen, I was up in the attic this morning—"
"I just think it was so generous of that girl you met last night to offer to
work with you!"
"Yes, but Dani, would you please shut up for a second! I just found out my
father had another son!"
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