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.