Part Seven

"Oh yeah, whatever!" Michael's voice echoed down the Russian alleyway. "Without Black Dranzer, you don't stand a chance against me. I'm going to kick your ass!"
"Always so sure of yourself... don't you ever get tired of being wrong?" Ian smirked at his frown.

"I don't think you understand how seriously we take our Beyblading here, and how deeply you've offended us by mouthing off like that." The red-haired captain of the Demolition Boys added spitefully. "Don't expect us to go easy on you just because we're not in competition any more."
This sparked Bryan's interest. "If anything, no audience and no cameras means no rules."
"I hope you're up to it." Tala's tone was condescending. "However, an exact rematch is out of the question."

Michael bolted upright, eyes wide and sweat running down his horrified face. The room around him was bright with the light of a new morning. He looked down at his fading wounds which throbbed with new pain when he thought about acquiring them.

His thoughts began to scare him. How much of the attack had he been conscious for? Did he scream when razor-sharp talons tore into him? Who, what, and most importantly - why, were questions he wasn't prepared to answer whilst he still bore physical testament to the ordeal.

A plush velvet chair that had been dragged to his bedside, where Robert was asleep. His head lay in his folded arms on the edge of the mattress, in what was clearly not a peaceful sleep.

He'd pieced together what had happened, since the last thing he remembered from the previous day was feeling terribly ill during his battle. It brought a smile to Michael's face to know that it wasn't just one of his desperate father-figure fantasies; that Robert did actually care enough to stay with him.

He reached over to touch the spikes of purple hair on the nobleman's brow, and Robert was instantly awake at the contact. Confusion flickered in his eyes for a brief moment, before he placed where he was and what he was doing there.

"How are you this morning?" He asked groggily, but still with that unmistakable air of nobility.
"I'm okay." Michael answered in such a way that there would be no need for any follow-up questions. He didn't want to detail what secrets his memory had just unlocked for him - it would only worry Robert, and he didn't want to do that any more than he already had. "Who won?"
"Pardon?"
"Who won yesterday's match?" The All Star corrected himself.
It took every fibre of Robert's willpower to put his honour aside and answer untruthfully. "...You did."
And Michael smiled kind of smile he'd hoped for in return.

The knight rose to his feet, presumably to leave and Michael followed him up, kneeling on the bed. Their embrace was as sudden as it was mutual.

Michael pulled himself tightly against Robert as strong arms encircled his waist. This time, the door was closed and locked; this time, the staff had been given strict orders not to disturb their master for any reason; this time... there would be no interruptions.

Their kiss was soft at first, both gauging how far the other was willing to go. Michael tasted like cherry, possibly because of all the medication he was taking, but there was an additional sweetness there that could only be described as pure Michael. Rich and bitter, like strong coffee was how Robert tasted in return.

Their actions grew hot, fast and desperate - as if they were madly trying to catch up on what they had lost before. Michael's fingers sought the zipper at Robert's throat, drawing it down and sliding his hand inside the knight's neckline. His skin was so soft, like silk under his touch.

Robert grabbed the boy's wrist. "No."
He didn't want to rush into something he very well might regret. Michael obviously liked him, but that wasn't enough. The boy may have been famous in his own country, but that did not add royalty to his common blood - which would displease the Jurgens family immensely.

Add to this the fact that the pair lived half way across the globe from each other. And the most painfully obvious hurdle of all - Michael was also a man. It was Robert's duty to continue his family's illustrious line... to marry a woman of stature, and through his son, become part of history like his father and his grandfather, and all his ancestors before them.

He should never have kissed Michael. He should never have opened himself to the temptation. Now it was there - the boy's taste, his smell, his touch; all calling him back for more. He had a craving; a weakness that could never be satisfied unless Michael was his and his alone.

His guest had no such hesitation, twining his arms around Robert's shoulders and rekindling the kiss.

"Michael, I said no." It was a stern order which could not be argued.
The red-haired boy's glassy eyes were filled with disappointment and confusion. "Robert?"
The knight shook his head. "I cannot let you do this."
"But, I-"
He stroked the All Star's face. "You are too precious to me. I would never forgive myself if I allowed you to cheapen yourself by giving me so much."

No one else Michael had ever met would kiss like that and then walk away. It was arousing... Robert kept him wanting more, and he didn't even realise he was doing it.

The moment was over and he knew that pushing Robert any further would only embarrass the conservative nobleman. With any other man, he would have been on his back (or stomach, depending on where they were when their urges struck) by now, with his legs spread, moaning for more, harder, faster.

"Then, when?"
"Michael..." Robert's fingertips brushed over the boy's throat and up to softly tilt his chin. "There are so many complications..."
The American frowned. In his world, a romantic complication was a stubborn button on his shorts when he needed sex right away. He drew a breath to argue back, but Robert pressed his fingers to his lips.
"Please do not make this any more difficult for me than it is."

And without another word, he turned and left Michael kneeling on his bed, more confused than ever.

"Robert..."

"You are still here?" Robert asked bluntly as he caught sight of Oliver and Enrique at the breakfast table.
"Of course we are!" The smaller boy answered a little too enthusiastically. Something was going on, but the master of the castle couldn't think what it could possibly be.
"Where is Johnny?"
"Back in Scotland." Enrique offered vaguely, before something over Robert's shoulder caught his eye, making him leap up and race out of the room.
"He left shortly after we got back..." Oliver continued. "He said he felt sick or something."

Robert huffed in frustration, both at Johnny's attitude and the sudden rabble which had sprung up behind him. "I had better give him a call."
"Why? You'll see him again tonight."
"What is happening tonight?" He was even more confused, especially with the look he was receiving from his French team mate.
"Your aunt and uncle... don't you remember?"
"That is tonight?!"
"I haven't been slaving away in your kitchen these past two days for nothing, you know."

Robert blanched. "I... I am not ready for them."
"Don't worry about it." Oliver dismissed his concern with a wave of his delicate hand. "You've had so much on your mind recently, Enrique and I have taken care of all the arrangements. All you have to do tonight is sit back and take all the credit."

"Oh, and Michael," The blonde boy cut in loudly as he showed the All Star into the room. "I told the Duke and Duchess what an awesome guy you are, and they're really looking forward to meeting you."
It barely lasted a second, but Michael caught the look of horror on Robert's face... almost as if he were ashamed of his guest in the presence of his family. It felt like his heart had torn itself from its veins and plummeted to his feet.
"Thanks, Enrique." He looked directly at Robert and added. "I'd love to meet them."