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Part Eleven

Robert laid Michael down carefully, and sat beside him.
"Something is wrong. You should not be suffering like this."
"I'm fine." The boy argued back, wincing as he reached to touch the knight's face. "I want to finish dancing with you."
Robert slapped his hand away. "My doctors will be arriving any minute."

Michael sulkily flopped back down on his bed. It was useless. Back into Master of the Castle mode, Robert wasn't going to say or do anything to jeopardise his precious honour. He'd let his guard down for one sweet moment - and now it was back up like double reinforced steel.

He'd felt how much the knight had been enjoying himself. And whilst Michael's groin still ached with unsatisfied need; Robert had simply resumed his other personality; which, his guest noted wryly, was incapable of feeling anything vaguely pleasurable.

"Robert... please don't do this."
"Do what?"
"Pretend it didn't happen." The All Star sighed sadly, already admitting defeat.

There was silence - Robert's favourite answer when he refused to commit to anything.

"...Would you have made love to me?"
He was visibly disturbed by the bold question. "Now is not the time to be talking about this."
"When exactly is the time, then?"
"Not now!" He snapped back. "There are more important things to worry about at the moment."
"Like what? Like this?" Michael gestured to his leg. "It'll be okay in a few minutes. It's nothing."
Robert rose angrily to his feet. "Stop being so stupid! You did not have to see yourself in the condition you were in when you were brought here. I honestly thought there was a chance you would not live to recover... and you want to risk your health for the sake of carnal gratification?!"

"Sir?" Gustav cleared his throat at the doorway. "Your physicians have arrived."
"Send them in." His master ordered, hoping he hadn't heard any of the conversation, but knowing by the look on his face that he had caught at least some of it.

An hour came and went as Robert paced outside Michael's room. He thought it best to wait and hear the diagnosis before retiring to bed, and walking up and down the hallway in silent meditation was a much better option than spending time with his team mates downstairs.

His thoughts lingered on Michael's question, and why it had been so difficult for him to answer. When the boy had asked it, it was if someone had punched him in the gut. It had hit him so hard, so unexpectedly, he hadn't known what to say.

Lying was never his forte, and he had managed to avoid giving an answer... for a little while anyway. But he had no doubt Michael would bring the subject up again, at the least appropriate time - and he had to be ready for it.

But how could he do it? How could he say what was in his heart? Yes, if Michael had guided him, he would have gone as far as the boy wanted him to. He had got so worked up over what little they had done, it hurt. He'd never felt pain like it before - but he had never truly been sexually aroused before, either. A tough bey-battle may have excited him in the past, but not with the intensity Michael did.

"Sir Robert?" One of the doctors called the nobleman back into the room, explaining that the patient should not have been walking around unassisted and certainly not allowed to dance in his fragile state.

They had re-bandaged his knee, which Michael looked less than impressed with as he continued to assure anyone who would listen that he was all right.

As the doctors filed out once again, Robert moved to be beside his guest, reaching down to run his fingers through his hair. It was his way of apologising without admitting the blame he felt. He had asked Michael to dance with him because he was envious... because he wanted to be as happy as Enrique looked with Oliver in his arms - and in his selfishness, he had hurt the one he loved.

"I guess this means we won't be finishing our dance?"
"I guess not."
"Kiss me goodnight, then?" Michael asked hopefully.
Robert bent over him, barely touching his lips with a ghost of a kiss, before returning to his full height. "Sweet dreams."
"Yeah..." His guest agreed dismally. It was nice, but it wasn't the kind of kiss he'd been hoping for. "Sweet dreams."

Managing to manoeuvre the doorknob with his forearms, Michael slipped out into the corridor and ran to the nearest bathroom. Breathing a sigh of relief as he leant against the door, he was glad he had not encountered any of Robert's staff on the way. Masturbating over thoughts of their master and then washing away the evidence was not something he wanted to get caught doing.

Working the soap into an extra thick lather and then wiping his hands down several times, he stepped back out of the room and jumped in fright as he saw Oliver standing in the hall.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" He scolded playfully.
"No. Why?"
"That bandage on your leg is a dead give-away. What if Robert caught you wandering the halls like this?"
Michael rolled his eyes. "What's he going to do - spank me?"
The French boy giggled, the idea obviously appealing to his naughty side.

"Oh?" He was reminded of his curiosity that needed to be satisfied. "How did it go with Robert? You were both up here so long, I assumed he'd finally come to his senses."
"Nothing happened." The taller boy insisted, guiltily hiding his hands behind his back.
"Honestly, I don't know how he does it. You're gorgeous, and if I were him, I'd be all over you."

Michael gave an awkward smile, not knowing which of his mental images was making him the most uncomfortable - Oliver jumping him, or Robert jumping him in the same hyperactive way he imagined Oliver would.

"I mean it." He persisted, his purple eyes wide and dark with candour. "And that is an invitation. Okay?"

Where was he ten minutes ago when Michael really needed him?

"Look, Oliver..." He began, not really sure how he was going to end the sentence. "I..."
"There's Robert to consider. I know. I'm just saying that my door's always open if you ever get tired of waiting for him to sort out his feelings."

Something was definitely wrong with him - he was going to turn down an offer from the prettiest creature to ever proposition him! Even if Oliver wasn't his type, it didn't mean he couldn't sample the goods. He would have before... before he'd woken up in this castle; before he'd fallen for Robert.

It had to be love which stopped him. He hated love.

Robert lay awake, thinking about the disaster of a day he'd just lived through. But his mind kept taking him back to the taste and feel of Michael's tongue in his mouth, and the way the boy had suckled at his tongue. He'd never been kissed like that before, and then to have been treated to it twice in the one day, it was little wonder that he found himself hoping he'd experience it again very soon.

Michael brought out a side of him he never knew he had... a wild, hungry side. He didn't know whether to be scared of it, or embrace it and see where it took him.

And finally, to the most recent of his concerns - how easily Michael could ask him about deviant intentions, as if it were nothing. If Robert was going to take someone to his bed, there would have to be no doubt in his mind that it was true love he felt for them.

The thought of Michael sharing his perfect body with whoever he had in the past not only disgusted his moral side, but filled him with a strange envy. It didn't matter if he became just another name on Michael's list of lays - he wanted to be part of that list. At least it would prove what he felt for the boy, even if nothing further eventuated.

It had to be love which inspired such desires. He hated love.