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 back 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 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."
