Blaine had to get up early Monday to make breakfast for Jesse and Rachel. Their original plan had been to go back to school Sunday evening, but Rachel had been too rattled after being abandoned at the palace, so they were driving up early today instead.
Once they were gone, Shelby announced she was going back to bed and left Blaine alone in the kitchen to clean up. While he was loading the dishwasher he looked out the window and saw something moving in the garden. Could it be a raccoon? Could Kurt have sent it as a signal to him? He ran outside, letting a coffee mug crash to the floor behind him.
It was a raccoon! He saw it climb up the fence and into the neighbor's yard. "Kurt?" he called. There was just enough daylight that he could see Kurt was nowhere in his own yard, so he climbed over the fence into the neighbor's. "Kurt?"
Suddenly the porch light went on and his neighbor was standing there in her nightgown. "Blaine? What are you doing here?"
"Oh. Hi, Ms. Doosenbury. I was just...I saw a raccoon."
"And you named him Kurt?"
"What? No! I didn't say 'Kurt.' I said, 'Get!' As in, 'Go on, you stupid raccoon, get out of Ms. Doosenbury's yard!'"
"Mm-hmm."
"So...he seems to be gone now—or she, I don't really know how you can tell with raccoons—so I'll just..."
"Blaine. I know you're gay, and I don't care. And I know how your mom is. But you can't use my yard for hookups."
"No! I would never..."
"Go home now, Blaine."
So Blaine went home. Kurt wasn't around, and what he'd seen was apparently just a regular raccoon, just going about its regular raccoon business. Blaine went back into the kitchen, dug the remains of Rachel's gluten-free muffin out of the trash, and took them outside to leave in the garden for the little guy. Or little gal. He went back in again, cleaned up the coffee mug shards, finished loading the dishwasher, and then he found himself, oddly, with nothing particular he had to do.
It was so quiet in the house, and kind of beautiful in the early morning light. He wished Sam were there to share it with him. He felt Sam's absence like an actual physical emptiness inside him.
It was ridiculous, he was being ridiculous, he told himself. Such a drama queen! He was starting to remind himself of Rachel, Jesus.
To kill some time before he had to get ready for work, he went online. He ended up reading a bunch of accounts of the royal ball. And they were all totally accurate about stuff like the music and the décor, but not one of them mentioned him. Like, there was something about Princess Beth's surprise appearance, but it only said that she cut in on Prince Samuel "and his unknown masked dance partner" and then implied (but didn't actually say) that it was Prince Samuel she danced with.
He went upstairs to take a shower, but found himself crawling back into bed instead.
Kurt wasn't coming back to help him again.
Prince Samuel wanted to cover up the fact that they'd ever even danced together.
Blaine would never see him again.
He covered his head with the blankets and he held the pillow to him, wishing he could be holding Sam again, even just once, even just long enough to say a proper good-bye. But that would never happen, and it made him cry.
.
"Lady Brittany! What a pleasant surprise!"
Brittany hugged the housekeeper. "Donna, it's good to see you! When are you coming to have dinner with me and Santana?"
"When His Grace gives me a night off."
Brittany rolled her eyes. "I'll talk to him. Is he here?"
"He's at breakfast. Go right in."
Brittany made her way to the breakfast room and saw him standing with his back to her. "Daddy!" she shouted, startling the duke into spilling his coffee.
He was smiling when he turned to her, though. "Dumpling! What brings you by?"
"Give Donna a night off some time this week so she can have dinner with me and Santana."
Her father frowned a little at that. "You know I don't personally oversee the servants' schedules. And of course Donna is free to do whatever she wants on her nights off, but you know I don't think it's a good idea for you to be socializing with the help."
"I know you don't, Daddy. But I like her. And you can totally give her an extra night off any time you feel like it."
The duke sighed. "Fine. Call my secretary."
"Thank you, Daddy!" Brittany wrapped her arms around her father and kissed his cheek. She sat and took an orange from a bowl on the table.
The duke poured himself some more coffee and sat across from her. "How are things at Paws-itively 4th Street? Do you need some more publicity?"
"That would be great, Daddy! Thank you!" Paws-itively was the cat rescue organization she ran. It was actually located on Fourth Street, so the name was inevitable. She started peeling her orange and asked, "Aren't you going to ask me how the ball was?"
"Of course! Did you have a nice time?"
"No, I mean aren't you going to ask me about the ball itself? About what happened there? Not just if Santana and I had a good time."
"I don't understand what you mean, Dumpling. I was there, I know what happened. And it's pretty much all we covered yesterday, so..."
"Yeah, it's all you covered, but your reporters left a lot out, so I thought maybe somehow no one had noticed..."
The duke sighed. "If you're talking about that boy the prince was spending time with..."
"That's exactly who I'm talking about."
"You know my media outlets don't engage in salacious gossip."
"What's salacious? I mean, okay, some of it kind of was, but you could have mentioned that they were dancing."
"We don't even know the young man's name. It was a masked ball, if you'll recall."
"Fine, but you knew it was a man. And yet you went out of your way to avoid mentioning that detail!"
"Yes, of course we did!" Coffee sloshed onto the table as the duke slammed his cup down. "Look, Dumpling, I know how you like to think you're so modern and cutting edge with your girlfriend—"
"My wife!"
"Your girlfriend until I see a valid marriage certificate stating otherwise."
"And you'll do anything you can to prevent that, won't you? Even if it means screwing thousands of other people out of marrying who they love too."
"You seem to think I have a lot more power than I do, Dumpling."
"You seem to think I'm a lot more naïve than I am, Daddy. You control practically all the media in this kingdom. You know how much people love the royal family, and you know that if people knew one of them was gay, it would do so much to advance gay rights here."
"I'm not going to out a prince—and make an enemy of the king—just to advance your radical agenda."
"Has the king asked you to keep it a secret?"
"He doesn't have to! Dumpling, things like this are just understood!"
"Right. It's just understood that having a queer child is the most shameful thing ever."
"I didn't say that, Dumpling. And besides, you're not queer."
Brittany stood. "I can't talk to you anymore. I'll...I'll call your secretary about Donna. Give my love to Mom."
.
Blaine called the bookstore and told his boss he was sick. He'd never called in sick before, not even when he was, so his boss didn't suspect he was lying. Not that he even was, necessarily. He'd cried so much he didn't think he physically had enough energy to get out of bed and get in the shower, much less make it through six hours at the bookstore, followed by five more at the restaurant. He fell asleep again, curled up with his tear-soaked pillow.
It was almost noon when he woke. He didn't want to get out of bed, but he had to pee. After he did he decided he might as well get something to eat while he was up anyway. He stopped short at the top of the stairs, though, when he heard voices below. He hadn't realized Shelby was working from home today, though since the other voice seemed to be her friend Terri, it seemed a safe bet that she wasn't working that hard.
He was tempted to just go down to the kitchen anyway, and fuck it if she caught him skipping work. She was basically doing the same thing. But. He really didn't have it in him to listen to her screaming at him right now. He was about to turn around and go back to his room when he heard his name, so naturally he paused to listen. And he heard Shelby tell the story of Blaine coming home the morning before with come stains on Jesse's suit, which Terri found hilarious.
Blaine felt his face burning. It didn't feel like shame, though; it felt like rage. And he wasn't sure what to do with this particular rage, and he was frozen in place, listening to Shelby recount the rest of the family's adventures from the day before, or Rachel's version of them anyway. Blaine wanted at that point to march downstairs and tell them what had really happened at the ball, but he was still frozen.
Shelby mentioned Jesse and Rachel driving back to school in the morning—"which is why I was too tired to go into the office this morning!"—and Terri said, "You know, I've never understood why they enrolled at the provincial conservatory instead of the royal one. They'd be so much closer if they went to school in the capital! Not to mention how much better a school it is."
"It just costs so much more," Shelby said. The royal conservatory cost about twice as much as the provincial one, and the provincial one was expensive enough that Shelby hadn't even allowed Blaine to apply.
"But what about Matt?" Terri asked. Blaine felt something clutch at his heart at the mention of his dad's name. No one ever, ever talked about him anymore.
"You mean the guy who left me a young widow with three children to raise on my own?"
"And you've been so brave," Terri said, "and so inspiring. I just meant...he was on the faculty at the royal conservatory, right? And faculty's kids get free tuition. Even if the parents pass away, like I was just reading about a student there whose mother died in—"
"Jesse and Rachel were his stepchildren, though. It doesn't count for stepchildren."
"It doesn't? But that's so unfair!"
"I know! It's completely unfair! Matt loved those kids like he loved his own."
"Did you complain?"
"Of course! I fought so hard, Terri. A single mother just doesn't have a chance against these huge bureaucracies." She choked up a little.
"Oh, I know, honey. It's been so hard for you..." Blaine didn't stick around to listen to Shelby being comforted; he crept silently back to his room.
.
Ryder was hanging around the palace kitchen before lunch time, hoping word would come down that Prince Samuel wanted his food brought up to him. The prince was avoiding his family, so it was a good bet that he would. He did, and Ryder volunteered to take the food to his private sitting room. He wanted to talk to the prince as soon as possible, somewhere that Sue would never dare to bug.
Prince Samuel was only slightly surprised to see who it was with his lunch. "Hey, Ryder. Thanks for insisting on calling Liz last night."
"You're welcome, Your Highness."
"I was being sarcastic, dude. I had to endure the safe sex lecture again."
"Dr. Stevens doesn't know about Kurt and his magical vaccination, Your Highness. She's just trying to keep you safe."
"I'm perfectly safe!"
"Actually, Your Highness..." Ryder lowered his voice. "I think last night shows that you aren't, necessarily. May I come in? I'd actually like to talk about your safety."
The prince sighed, but the sigh sounded more indulgent than exasperated, and he invited Ryder to come in and sit with him while he ate.
"Security for you while you carry out this plan is going to be difficult with only one guard," Ryder began.
"Yeah. Well, you do have a point there. If Jake is still sick maybe we could hold off a day."
"Jake...isn't actually sick, Your Highness."
"What? No. If Jake wanted time off he would just ask me, he wouldn't lie about being sick."
"No. He wouldn't lie to you, Your Highness. But Jake isn't the one who told you he's sick, right? That was Ms. Sylvester."
"You're saying he lied to Sue?"
"No, Your Highness. I'm saying Jake didn't lie at all." This was as close as Ryder dared to get to coming right out and accusing his boss of lying to the prince.
Luckily the prince didn't need it spelled out any more than that, though he did still seem skeptical. "But why would Sue lie?" he asked.
"Maybe she doesn't want you to know yet that she fired him."
Prince Samuel set down his fork and dashed out into the hall. It happened so fast that Ryder had to scramble to follow him. "Wait, Your Highness!" he called, and thank God His Highness did wait long enough for Ryder to catch up with him. "Please, can we finish talking in your sitting room before you do anything?"
So they returned to the sitting room, but neither sat. "Why shouldn't I go give Sue a piece of my mind and demand that she rehire him immediately?"
"For one thing, because she's probably already got His Majesty on her side. But more importantly, if she knows you know, she'll think Jake contacted you, or contacted me, and she'll withhold his severance pay and any recommendations for other jobs he applies for."
"So he's screwed if he even contacts us?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"How do you even know this?"
"I contacted him. He gave me his brother's phone number once, so I tried it and he was there. I didn't use my own phone, though, so Ms. Sylvester won't know."
Prince Samuel considered that. "Wouldn't it have been better if she did know? So she couldn't accuse him of calling you?"
"Um...maybe you're right, Your Highness. I didn't think of that, I just thought it would be risky for her to know I knew at all."
"Okay, just..." The prince handed Ryder his phone. "Put his brother's number in here and I'll call him." Ryder entered the number under Jake's brother's name and handed it back. Prince Samuel looked at it, held his finger over the call button, and then looked back at Ryder. "Noah," he read out loud. "How is he, anyway? Jake never talks about him."
"Jake's kind of under the impression that talking about him here is forbidden."
"Yeah. I guess it is. I guess if he answers I can ask him myself."
.
Blaine got back into bed, but he didn't cry, and he didn't sleep. He was way too shaken by what he'd just heard.
His father had been on the faculty at the royal conservatory!? Shelby had always just told him his father was a teacher. And whenever Blaine had asked what he taught, she'd just said something vague about little brats or something, so Blaine had assumed he taught grade school, or maybe even preschool. And maybe it wouldn't have mattered before he took an interest in singing, but she knew he would have loved to go to the conservatory, and to think that he could have gone for free...!
And, yeah, maybe he wouldn't have gotten accepted, but he sure as hell would have tried if he'd known the tuition wouldn't be an obstacle!
He had to get out of this house, he had to get away from her.
He knew now that Kurt was not going to come back and rescue him.
Not that he was bitter toward Kurt. He was grateful, he was. Kurt had said he'd do one thing for him, and he'd done it, and it had been amazing. Kurt had given him the best night of his life, his night with Sam.
But Sam was not going to rescue him either.
Blaine was going to have to rescue himself.
.
Sam went to see his father right after he got off the phone with Jake. "How could you let Sue fire Jake?" he demanded.
The king set down the paper he'd been reading and gestured for his son to sit across the desk from him. "Sue is in charge of security," he said. "Hiring and firing guards is part of her job."
"But you're the king. Make her hire him back!" A withering glance from his father made Sam shrink a little in his seat. "Please, Father. He's been so loyal and dedicated all these years."
"Did he ask you to go over Sue's head and intervene on his behalf?"
"No! I only even know what happened because I managed to track him down through one of his relatives. I was worried because Sue said he was sick, and he never gets sick."
The king frowned. "Sue shouldn't have lied to you. I'll reprimand her for that. I assume she did so because she knew you were close and would try to interfere."
"Damn right I would try to interfere!"
"Samuel! Language!"
Sam bowed his head. "I apologize, Father."
The king stood. "I trust Sue's judgment. And I agree with her. Jake smuggled a stranger into the royal ball without even finding out his name. Do you have any idea what—"
"But I'm glad he did! I'm in love with that 'stranger', and I wouldn't have even met him if Jake hadn't let him in!"
There was a several-second pause, the king's stare boring into his son. "I beg your pardon?"
"I mean..."
"Am I to understand that the young man you were so publicly...let's say 'displaying your affection for'...is someone you only met that night?"
Shit. Sam had assumed his mother would have already shared this information with his father. Given how his father was taking it, it was clear that his mother's instincts were better than his. There was no point denying it now, however, so he just said, "Yes, Father."
The king was silent again, and none too happy, Sam could tell. Finally he said, "Well, then I guess at least you can tell Sue his name."
Sam looked down. "No, Father. I don't know it."
"You don't know it," his father repeated.
"No, Father."
"Look me in the eye, Samuel." Sam did, and his father continued. "If you are lying to me to protect Jake or this new friend of yours..."
"I'm not, Father. I'd give anything to know his name. I'd give anything to be able to find him again."
"You don't know how to get in touch with him?"
"No, Father."
Again there was silence. When it was broken, it was by his father saying, "You need to leave my office now, Samuel."
.
Blaine had been planning on staying home all day, but he decided to work his shift at Hungry's after all. He wouldn't be able to save up enough money to get his own place by not working. Shelby was waiting for him in the hallway when he left the bathroom after his shower. "Blaine! What are you doing home? I thought you were at the bookstore."
"I had a headache so I called in."
"You missed work because of a headache!? Boo hoo! Suck it up, Blaine, this family has bills to pay!"
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm working from home, and I don't care for your tone."
"Uh-huh. Well, I'll get out of your way now, since you're working. I have my second job to get to."
It was slow at work, which was bad tips-wise but nice otherwise because he actually got to talk to Dani a bit. And Dani was talkative enough to take his mind off his own stuff a little. Dani had a girlfriend. "...And I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I wasn't sure if...I mean I've never even really dated before because my mom and dad, you know—and they absolutely do not know about her, by the way—and...but anyway, I really like her!"
"That's great, Dani. What's her name?"
"Sunshine," Dani said, sighing a little. "Do you want to meet her? We're going out after I get off work; why don't you come with us?"
"Uh, no. I don't want to horn in on your date."
"Oh, come on! I want you to meet her!"
"I'd like to, but..." Blaine was happy for Dani, he was, but the last thing he felt like doing was being a third wheel on someone else's date.
"We're going to a karaoke bar..." Dani said.
"Mmm..." It was tempting, actually. Blaine loved to sing, after all—and he used to be good at it. What if he still was? What if...Well, karaoke with lesbians would be a pretty low-risk way to find out if it was something even worth considering. "Yeah. Okay. Why not?"
.
Jake didn't expect Prince Samuel to have good news for him, but he agreed to meet him at Starchild anyway. Well, agreed was hardly the right word. Even though he wasn't a palace employee anymore, it would never have occurred to him to refuse a summons from the prince.
He was the first one there, and Elliott showed him up to the little apartment. He rose, naturally, when the prince and Ryder came in several minutes later, and the prince walked up to him and hugged him and said, "I'm so sorry, Jake. I talked to Sue. Maybe it'll make you happy that she got in a little bit of trouble with the king, but only for lying to me. It was enough to make her really pissed at me, even though she had to act like she wasn't. Anyway, she wanted me to pick one of the unassigned guards to be Ryder's partner, but...I mean, it's kind of sensitive what we're doing here, right? I can't trust just anyone."
"I'm sorry, Your Highness," Jake said.
"No, I'm not blaming you. I told Sue I'd have to think about who I want, but...Ryder doesn't think it's safe with just him."
"There was an incident last night," Ryder added.
Jake raised his eyebrows. "Are you all right, Your Highness?"
"Oh, yeah. No big deal," Prince Samuel said, making a brushing-off gesture. "But...I have a proposition for you."
Jake immediately accepted the Prince Samuel's proposition, namely that he work for him unofficially when they were outside the palace. The prince insisted on paying him in cash out of his allowance, although Jake would have done it for free. He cared about the prince—and about Ryder, who he knew this was going to be hard on—too much to trust any other guard during the prince's mission. Especially after hearing what had happened with the underage guy from last night.
.
Dustin sat at his "usual" table, sipping a beer and trying not to feel guilty for lying to David. Well, he hadn't actually lied, he told himself. He just hadn't told David everything. Like...well, obviously he hadn't mentioned that he was going to fuck Prince Samuel. (That is, he hoped he was going to fuck Prince Samuel; Elliott hadn't actually been able to guarantee that the prince would be back.)
Strangely, though, the plan to fuck the prince wasn't really what he felt guilty about. No, Dustin had told David he would, if given the opportunity. So basically he had permission.
But still. He knew David well enough to know that he wouldn't want to know about it.
What he did feel a little guilty about was that he hadn't mentioned that he'd found Mercedes last night. It was just to protect David, so when he said he was going back to Starchild tonight, David would naturally assume it was for work. (Dustin didn't actually say it was for work because he wasn't a liar!)
He wasn't sure why this omission bothered him so much, except...well, David would have been so happy for him, if he'd known. It was a big deal that he'd managed to find Mercedes and get her to come into the studio. And even though she hadn't signed with the label yet (and seemed weirdly opposed to the very idea of signing legal documents of any sort—Dustin was going to have to find out if that was some weird religious thing or what), the Roderick kid actually was very promising. Even signing just him, especially if Mercedes would record a duet with him, would be really good for his career. So just having to hide his excitement from his financé felt weirdly kind of like lying. Even though it wasn't!
But it felt enough like it was that he actually thought about leaving. He actually thought maybe he shouldn't do this.
But...if he went home this early, David would wonder why. And Dustin could tell the truth, he guessed, but then he'd just be hurting David without even getting to fuck the prince. So he stayed and he waited.
Guys came over to chat and flirt now and then. Dustin didn't flirt back with them, so none stayed very long, but he did pick up some gossip from this one guy. Supposedly Prince Samuel was a bottom now and he wanted to make up for lost time or something by getting fucked by as many different guys as possible. Of course no one actually believed this—some kid last night claimed he and his friend had both fucked the prince, but this was as he was getting thrown out, so...—but still, wouldn't it be fucking amazing if true? Dustin just nodded and agreed it would be fucking amazing. He wasn't about to jeopardize his place as next in line by confirming the crazy rumor.
.
Sebastian rented a car at the airport. Doing so was a frankly baffling ordeal, and he wished he'd had the foresight to call his driver before getting on a plane in Paris. Even if he'd called after he landed it might have been quicker, but he'd mistakenly assumed he would save time this way.
Well, no matter. The important thing was he was on his way to see his first love again. Okay, love was probably too strong a word. But Sam...Prince Samuel had definitely been his first. The memory of that very first time made him cringe a bit.
It started shortly after curfew. Sebastian had barely made it to his own room in time after an evening spent making out with Sam in his bed. They'd been doing that a lot lately; usually it ended with Sebastian sucking Sam off shortly before curfew and jerking off in his bed after, but this particular night—they must have lost track of the time or something—they'd both been hard and unsatisfied still when Sebastian had to leave.
Sebastian was lying in his bed trying not to make any noise to alert his roommate, Thad, as to what he was doing, even though deep down he knew Thad was probably perfectly aware. Thad was a decent guy, though, and he pretended not to notice. He was also nice enough to get up to answer the door when Mr. Schuester knocked the second time—which was unusual, but it did happen occasionally, particularly if he suspected something was up.
It wasn't Mr. Schuester at the door, though. It was Sam, in pajama bottoms and no top. As soon as the door was open he said, "Go sleep somewhere else tonight, Thad."
Thad hesitated, and Sebastian could easily imagine everything that was going through his head. He would get in trouble if he was caught out of his room. His friends might not let him in because then they could get in trouble too. Following the prince's orders wouldn't be accepted as an excuse, because every student was supposedly equal at the school. Some guys didn't even realize Sebastian was a count...until he told them! Everyone knew who Prince Samuel was, obviously, but they were supposed to call him Samuel or even Sam and treat him like any other classmate. (Except when they weren't, like anyone who was in a class with him or at his table in the dining hall couldn't sit until he did.) The prince wasn't officially allowed to order the other guys around, and he generally didn't, but when he did ask someone to do something they mostly did it because...well, it was hard not to be aware that he could become the king at any moment. True, he was only third in line, but it wasn't hard to imagine a car crash or a palace fire or something killing King Dwight, Princess Quinn, and Princess Beth all at once.
Sebastian gave Thad some much-needed encouragement to do the right thing: "Go on, stop being a fucking cockblock!"
Thad left, reluctantly. Sam got into Sebastian's bed, lay right on top of him, and ground his hard-on against Sebastian's hip. "You left me all horny still!" he accused.
"Yeah, well," Sebastian said, "now you know how I feel basically every night when I leave your room."
"Yeah?" Sam asked. "You want me to suck you off?"
Maybe Sebastian should have pretended to have to think about it or something, but he blurted out, "Oh my God, yes!"
"Okay," Sam said, and he reached inside Sebastian's boxers and stroked his dick. He licked his lips and moved his head down like he was going to start, but then he added, "But if I do, I want you to let me put mine in your butt."
"Okay," Sebastian said. It wasn't something he'd ever especially imagined wanting someone to do to him. He'd seen gay porn, and he'd always wanted to be the guy putting it in the other guy's butt. But Sam was touching his dick and saying he was going to suck it; Sebastian would have agreed to just about anything at that moment.
Sam pulled Sebastian's boxers off and scooted lower on the bed. He took Sebastian's dick in his hand and moved it this way and that, sort of inspecting it. "I really like your dick!" he declared.
"Thanks," Sebastian said, trying really hard to hold it still.
"Do you like mine too?"
"I wouldn't suck it practically every night if I didn't."
"You might," Sam said. "You might do it just because I'm a prince."
"I really like it," Sebastian said. "I really like you touching mine."
"I think I'm actually gonna like sucking it. You don't think that's too un-royal-like, do you?"
"Not at all."
"Yeah, I don't think so either. But still don't tell anyone."
"I promise." Sebastian involuntarily squirmed a little.
Sam put his face very close to it and licked it slowly. Then again. And again. "This is...awesome!" he announced.
"Mm-hmm!" Sebastian agreed. He was having trouble thinking of actual words at the moment.
Sam went back to licking. Not really sucking, Sebastian couldn't help but notice, but he wasn't complaining. It was like Sam just wanted to taste every part of it. And then finally he did put it inside his mouth, and that was by far the most amazing thing Sebastian had ever felt. He couldn't control his hips at all, couldn't stop himself from pushing up into Sam's mouth. It was just, it was exactly where his dick wanted to be, so snug and warm and wet. And the drag of Sam's lips along his shaft as Sebastian moved his cock in and out, it was so incredibly perfect.
"Dude, how can I suck it if you don't hold still?" Sam paused to ask. Sebastian didn't have an answer, but Sam didn't wait for one; he held Sebastian's hips down, wrapped his mouth around his cock, and started to suck.
Even with his hips being held in place, it was literally all Sebastian could do not to thrust. He couldn't not come—pretty much right away—and he couldn't not scream when he did. His mind emptied just as his balls did, and he felt nothing but euphoria.
The second it was over, Sam jumped out of bed and hid in the closet in case Mr. Schuester was going to check on the noise. Sebastian knew he should have felt bad about being so loud, but he was feeling way too good to feel bad about anything. And he felt cocky too—so much that when Sam felt it was safe to come out of the closet, Sebastian asked him, "Did you swallow my load?"
"Hell no," Sam said. "I took your dick out of my mouth at the last minute—I'm surprised you didn't notice. It got in my hair, but don't worry. I cleaned it off on a shirt in your closet."
"Oh." Sebastian hoped he was joking. Or if not, he hoped it was one of Thad's shirts.
"My turn!" Sam said. "Roll over."
Fuck. Part of Sebastian had forgotten about Sam's turn. The part that hadn't was hoping that somehow Sam would forget. Having already come, he found the prospect of getting fucked very unappealing...and kind of terrifying. But what was he going to do? Go back on his promise to the prince? He rolled over onto his stomach.
Sam stepped out of his pajama pants—he didn't have any underwear underneath, Sebastian noticed—and hopped back onto the bed, kneeling between Sebastian's spread legs. Sebastian buried his face in his pillow at this point rather than twisting his neck to try to watch. He felt a finger poking at his asshole and then being pushed inside. It didn't exactly hurt. And then the finger wiggled around a little, and it kind of made him feel like he had to take a shit, although he was pretty sure he didn't actually have to. That part was weird and Sebastian was glad it didn't last too long. Next Sam grabbed his buttcheeks, and then Sebastian felt something wet land on his asshole, and it took him a second to realize it must have been Sam spitting on him. He'd seen that in a porno once; maybe Sam had seen the same one. Or maybe it was an actual thing gay guys did. At any rate, he was pretty sure that there was spit on his butthole and that Sam was rubbing it around now. The spitting and rubbing alternated with the poking and fingering for a bit, and then Sam lay flat on top of him and pressed the tip of his dick right up against Sebastian's hole.
Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. Sam pushed in, and it hurt so bad. Sebastian tried not to cry out, but he couldn't help it.
Sam stopped pushing. "Is that good?" he asked uncertainly.
No! No, it was very, very not good! But Sebastian wasn't going to try to weasel his way out of his end of the deal. "I'll be all right. Just give me a second."
"Did it hurt? I barely got the tip in."
"I said I'll be all right if you just give me a second."
"Okay. Jesus. Bite my head off, why don't you?"
Sebastian tried to take a deep breath. Failing that, he tried to take a normal breath. He managed that after a few attempts and said, "Okay. Go ahead."
Sam went ahead. Sebastian felt like he was being torn apart. He thought he was hiding it well enough, though, until Sam stopped and said, "You're crying."
"No, I'm not," Sebastian said, though talking made it completely obvious that he actually was.
Sam pulled out, which was such a relief. He said, "You should have just told me it hurt."
"I could have taken it." Sebastian didn't, however, go so far as to insist that Sam try again. "Want me to suck you off?"
"Ew, no. It was just in your butt, you don't wanna put it in your mouth now. Don't worry, I'll take care of it." Sebastian didn't turn to look—mainly because he didn't want the prince to see his tears—but he quickly figured out that Sam was jerking himself off. Sure enough, he soon felt one, two, three hot ropes of come land on his back before Sam lay down next to him.
For a couple weeks after that, Sam didn't even invite Sebastian to his room to make out anymore. Sebastian wasn't about to grovel or anything, but he really missed it. He really wished he had just let Sam finish. It wouldn't have hurt that much. It wouldn't have literally killed him.
Then one day, as Sebastian was walking from history to French, Sam grabbed his arm in the hall and said, "Guess what!"
"Uh...what?"
"I've been practicing with Connor, and he taught me what to do to make it not hurt!"
It only took Sebastian a second to figure out what Sam meant he'd been practicing. "Connor Who?" he demanded. And he instantly regretted his tone because he should not make it sound like he was jealous. Even though he was.
Sam didn't seem to pick up on anything though. He said, "Connor Warbler. You know, the senior? Most people just call him and his brother—"
"Super Gay Warbler and Other Really Gay Warbler," Sebastian finished for him. "Yeah, I've heard of them. Which one is Connor?"
"Super Gay. Anyway, the point is, let me try it again. It won't even hurt!"
So Sebastian let him try again that night. It did still hurt, but not nearly as much as the first time. It didn't make him cry this time, and Sam sucked him off first again, so it was worth it. The next time hurt even less, and after that it hardly hurt at all.
But Sebastian never actually enjoyed it. He assumed that no guy did, that guys who seemed to like it in porn were just acting. In real life, the only reason to let someone do that to you was so you would get a turn doing it to them.
Except Sam flat-out refused to let him have a turn. "Princes don't take it in the ass," he said any time Sebastian brought it up. Sebastian challenged him to show him where that was written, and of course it wasn't written anywhere (except on the sheet of notebook paper that Sam wrote it on, just then). Sebastian also pointed out that, technically, they were all equals while at school—and that even if they weren't, Sebastian wasn't that far beneath him, he was literally the second-highest ranking student at the school. Sam would have none of it, however, and Sebastian didn't push too hard. The prince's blowjobs were getting better and better, and Sebastian was wary of pushing him away altogether.
One afternoon Sebastian found himself sharing a table in the library with Other Really Gay Warbler—Oliver, he learned later—who leaned across the table and whispered, "I heard you're the prince's favorite."
"Favorite what?" Sebastian asked, trying and failing to sound casual.
"Oh please," Oliver said, rolling his eyes. "He's only done me twice, and it was so amazing. I'm totally jealous that you get his dick practically every night."
"Wait. You're jealous because he fucks me? Or is it because he blows me?"
"He blows you too? Oh my God, now I'm extra jealous! Though I would take him fucking me over blowing me any day."
They talked some more, and it turned out Oliver actually really liked getting fucked. And it didn't have to be by the prince—he was open to letting Sebastian do it. And, God, Sebastian discovered that he liked fucking so much more than being fucked.
Over time he discovered that Oliver wasn't the only guy at the school who preferred being fucked, and so it all sort of worked out.
He missed Sam, though. Oh, they stayed friends. They still made out and sucked each other sometimes—though it was far more often Sebastian sucking Sam than vice versa. But he stopped letting Sam fuck him. He really thought at the time that they could have been proper boyfriends if only Sam had been willing to take turns. But now he realized it was better that they weren't. He'd had a few proper boyfriends over the years, all of whom were strictly bottoms. Everyone was happy that way. Sexually, anyway. Obviously they weren't completely happy as couples or they wouldn't have broken up, but the break-ups were for other reasons.
Now he had no illusions that he could be Prince Samuel's boyfriend. But when Elliott had called and told him about the prince's bottoming spree, Sebastian dropped everything and got on a plane. There was no way he was going to pass up the chance he'd been waiting for all these years.
.
Sam invited Elliott into the apartment while Ryder and Jake were checking out the next guy, Dustin, in the hallway. "Isn't he a little...old?" he asked. Not that the guy was elderly or anything, but he definitely seemed older than Darren.
"You didn't specify any certain age, Your Highness. You specified someone you've never fucked before."
It was true, Sam had never fucked this guy before. Not that he remembered, anyway. "Yeah, but I also said I was looking for guys who are not very experienced."
"Yes, Your Highness. As far as I know he's only been with one man. Though I didn't really feel comfortable interrogating him thoroughly. I can tell him no if you'd like. Or you could ask him more questions first."
No, Sam couldn't ask him more questions. That was the problem. And he didn't want to take the risk of sending away anyone who could conceivably be Darren. Kurt had mentioned that Darren had a hard life. Maybe it was hard enough to make him look older than he was. Or maybe Darren actually was older than Kurt made him look. Maybe one of his hardships was getting well into adulthood without getting laid. Oh man, that would be so sad! "No, don't tell him no."
Ryder escorted the guy in. He didn't raise any red flags like Spencer had (or should have, if Ryder had been more alert!): he was calm and respectful and didn't even seem like he'd been drinking at all.
And he was forty! Which had nothing to do with how big a risk he posed, but Ryder thought it seemed pretty unlikely that a forty-year-old would turn out to be Darren. He kept this opinion to himself, however. Also, there was something vaguely familiar about him, but Ryder couldn't put his finger on what it was. He didn't have any reason to believe it was related to anything that might put the prince at risk, though.
Dustin bowed. Sam studied him, looking for signs of Darren, even though he knew it was pointless. "How are you tonight, Dustin?"
"Excellent, Your Highness, thank you for asking. And how are you?"
"Very well, thank you."
"Might I just say, Your Highness, that your ball was lovely. It was so kind of you to—"
"You were there?"
"Yes, I—"
"Wait! Don't say any more!"
"No?"
"No! My God, don't ruin it!" Could it actually be him? "It was so kind of you to"...To what!? But he couldn't let him go on in case he really was going to say...and in case Kurt would hear him say...
Dustin. The name was really similar to Darren. Same first and last letters. Both six letters, two syllables. That would be just like Kurt. Holy shit, this could really be him! He had so many questions; it was so hard not to ask them before he was sure.
Sam studied him again, not looking for signs of Darren this time, but wondering if he could see himself with this guy for the rest of his life. It wasn't Darren's looks, of course, that made Sam fall in love with him, but...well, they hadn't hurt. And Dustin was plenty good looking too. Striking blue eyes. Strong eyebrows. Tall (although Sam had kind of liked how Darren was shorter than him, but whatever, he could adapt). "Take your clothes off."
Dustin silently obeyed. It was a little awkward, the not talking thing, but if that was the way the prince wanted it, he wasn't going to question it. Prince Samuel watched him undress, and he evidently liked what he saw. Dustin couldn't help but smirk a little at that. He knew it was inappropriate, but come on! A hot twenty-one-year old prince was into him! Who wouldn't be a little cocky at that?
Once Dustin was naked, Prince Samuel continued to check him out for a minute before he began taking off his own clothes. And when he did—as David would say, "¡Dios mío!" Not that he was thinking about David right now. Not that he didn't love David more than anything and not that he didn't still find David attractive, but...well, David was not twenty-one anymore.
Prince Samuel handed him a small jar. The label said it was coconut oil. What the...? Did the prince want a massage first? One with some kind of a tropical beach roleplay scenario? How would roleplay even work if one of them wasn't allowed to speak? Not to mention not knowing what role he was supposed to be playing?
Dustin was looking at the coconut oil like he didn't know what to do with it. "Use it as a lube," Sam told him, somewhat disheartened. Surely Darren would remember. Then again, there was a lot going on that night. The coconut oil was just a small, insignificant detail.
Oh. Coconut oil as lube, okay. Apparently that meant they wouldn't be using condoms. That didn't seem like such a great idea if Prince Samuel had fucked anywhere near the number of guys he was rumored to have fucked. But...Jesus, the guy was hot. And topping was less risky than bottoming, and he hadn't (reportedly) bottomed very much at all, so...
Sam lay on his stomach and Dustin sat beside him. His fingers were strong; that was nice. They weren't tentative; that was...Sam wasn't sure. He wouldn't expect Darren to be too tentative with him, but he wouldn't expect him to be this confident either.
God, Sam had to stop analyzing every detail. If the details could help him figure it out then that would be one thing, but they couldn't. Until Dustin's cock was in his ass, there was nothing to do but wait. Wait and just enjoy it, because, yeah, this Dustin guy was really good with his fingers.
Dustin wondered if he was really not allowed to speak at all. If this were David he wouldn't need to; he would know when his fiancé was ready. But he hadn't been with anyone other than David in almost three years. He was pretty sure the prince was ready, but he wanted to be completely sure. He didn't want to risk making the prince angry by speaking, but he didn't want to risk making him angry by hurting him either. He pressed his cock against the prince's entrance—very lightly, so as not to breach him accidentally—and asked, "Okay?"
Oh, this was it, Dustin was finally ready! Except Sam didn't want to be taken from behind; he wanted to be able to look into Darren's eyes if it really was him. He turned onto his back and repositioned them before he said, "Yeah. Okay."
Dustin pushed in carefully, but not hesitantly. Kind of like he knew what he was doing. That...that wasn't really a good sign. Not that it didn't feel good, like, objectively, but that was a different question.
Oh God the prince felt good. So tight. So young. Dustin was kissing the muscular leg propped up on his shoulder as he slipped deeper inside. He turned to watch the prince's face as he slid in that final inch or so, and it was gorgeous, yes, but alarming because he looked...terribly disappointed somehow. Dustin desperately wanted to make it right, but he didn't know what he was doing wrong, and he couldn't ask. Could he? He had to. He had to stop making the prince make that face. "Tell me what you want me to do, Your Highness. Please."
Sam looked into those blue eyes that he was now less and less convinced could possibly be Darren's. Why had he thought looking at the guy's unfamiliar face would help? He had to concentrate only on his dick. "You're doing great," Sam assured him. "I just...I think I'd rather turn over after all." Dustin moved back and Sam got onto his hands and knees. He spread his legs and took a deep breath. "Okay."
"Yes, Your Highness." Dustin got into position behind him. "Is there anything in particular you'd like—"
"No hints!" Sam insisted. He wasn't going to tell the guy how to be more Darren-like.
Hints? What the hell? Was Prince Samuel playing some sort of bizarre game? One that only he knew the rules to? But...okay, everyone knew royals were eccentric. The important thing was Dustin still got to fuck him. And since he had no chance of "winning" without even knowing what the game was, he might as well fuck him how he wanted.
And how he wanted to fuck him was long. As huge a turn-on as the prince's youth was for him, one advantage to maturity was that he could last way longer than he could when he was the prince's age. Since this was only going to be a one-time thing, he wanted to enjoy it for as long as possible.
Dustin entered him again, slowly but surely. He built up a steady but not rapid pace. It gave Sam plenty of time to just feel the dick moving inside him.
It wasn't Darren's. He figured that out pretty quickly. But he wasn't surehow he knew—when Darren fucked him, he wasn't, like, making a mental list of all the characteristics of how his dick felt, like how many centimeters in diameter, or the exact temperature or anything like that—and this bothered him. How could Kurt be so sure he would know? But Kurt did say he would know, he said it unequivocally, and Sam just had to trust that.
On the other hand, it couldn't hurt to give Dustin the benefit of the doubt for a little longer. He was really good; he was steadily working Sam up, hitting his prostate more and more frequently as he went on, and the longer he went on the more Sam felt like he was going to come. He really...oh, God, he was really going to, even without touching his own dick at all. Dustin kept nailing him in exactly the right spot, still not every time, but when he did...God. If only...if only Dustin would fuck him just a little harder, just a little faster. Sam rocked himself back forcefully. "Come on, man!"
Dustin felt himself smirking, just a little smug that he'd managed to make the prince desperate for more. But he wasn't ready to give more yet. The prince was just going to have to be patient.
Sam was getting super impatient. He needed to come super bad. He knew he could just jerk himself, but he wanted to have the orgasm fucked out of him. Like Darren had done to him. Maybe...maybe it was still possible and this was how he would know. He was so close, and if Dustin would just...
Dustin grabbed Prince Samuel's hips and held them still. He did start moving a little faster, though. He didn't want to press his luck; he didn't want to provoke the prince to order him to go faster. He fucked him faster and he started hitting his prostate with every thrust. The boy in front of him started to moan and shake. The moans turned to screams. The shaking turned to powerful muscle contractions. Dustin continued to fuck the prince through his orgasm, even though it was a struggle to move through the incredible tightness and even more of a struggle not to give in to the urge to come along with him.
Sam's arms were shaky after his orgasm, and he allowed himself to slump forward onto the pillow. He was so relaxed. He wasn't sure how his knees hadn't given out too until he realized Dustin was still holding his hips in place. And then Dustin slid into him again. Not hard or fast like just before Sam came, more like just before Sam started to get impatient. Turning his head to the side, just enough so he wouldn't be talking into the pillow, he asked, "You didn't come yet?"
"No, Your Highness. I can make you come again, if you'll let me keep going."
Okay, there was officially no way this was Darren. Darren would have come with him! And if, on some off chance, he hadn't he wouldn't be all cocky about it. So Sam could have said no. But he was so relaxed and content, and it didn't seem nice to make Dustin stop before he came, and he didn't want to be not nice to someone who had just made him feel so good. And besides. He kind of felt like Dustin's cockiness was justified, and if he said he could make Sam come again, then he could. "Yeah, man, keep going."
Yes! Although at this point, Dustin really wanted to go back to just slamming into the prince's sweet, tight ass...right when that was exactly the worst thing he could do. His Highness couldn't possibly be ready to be slammed into just yet. Dustin would have to work him up slowly again.
Thank God the prince was so young: it wasn't all that much longer (objectively speaking, though subjectively it felt like a long time) that he was moving under Dustin again. Dustin reached around to stroke him to hardness again and was delighted to discover he was halfway there already.
The hand on Sam's dick felt so good. His dick itself was still slick with the come that hadn't landed on the sheet, so he could fuck into Dustin's fist really smoothly. And Dustin's dick in his ass had never stopped feeling good, but now it was starting to hit his prostate some of the time again, which was awesome. Maybe Kurt had been right about Sam all this time, and he should have started taking men's cocks in his ass a long time ago. He really liked it.
Dustin seemed less intent on teasing him this time. He was picking up the pace a lot less gradually now, plus he was jerking Sam off. Probably Dustin was desperate to come now. Sam wasn't desperate to come this time, not yet anyway, but he saw no reason to resist the second orgasm when he felt it creeping up on him. He fucked harder into Dustin's fist and at the last moment asked, "You gonna come with me, babe?"
"Yes!" Yes, Dustin was more than ready to come with the prince, to come in the prince as his muscles clamped down on his cock for the second time. It was such a relief to let go, to fill the prince's narrow channel with his come.
Sam collapsed face-first onto the bed, pretty much content to never move from that spot for the rest of his life. Yeah, he was lying in a pool of his own come, some of it already cool, but so what?
Dustin was getting dressed, though, so he guessed he should too. Once they were both dressed, Sam said, "You're not Darren, are you?" He wasn't sure why he said it, because he knew, but he wanted the guy to confirm it.
"No, Your Highness. Dustin."
"Right. I was just...the names are similar. You were at the ball."
"Yes, Your Highness." Dustin suddenly wished he hadn't mentioned that. What if the prince asked who invited him? And then what if he said something to David?
"Well, this was fun. You were awesome."
Dustin got the message that it was time for him to leave. He would have liked to take a shower first—he had just realized he reeked of sex and coconuts—but the smell was probably already on his clothes anyway.
.
Elliott was talking to yet another customer who had heard about the prince's offer and wanted to know whether it was true and how he could get in on it when he saw trouble walk in the front door of his establishment. "Oh, shit," he muttered to himself, walking away from the guy who was still in the middle of talking. The worst thing was that he'd brought this on himself. Well, himself and the prince...but mostly himself, because Prince Samuel could easily handle the Count of Smythe.
"Smythe!" he called out in greeting, extending his hand. "What a surprise! I thought you were in Paris!"
The count shook Elliott's hand and handed his coat to a passing waiter. "It's good to see you," he said, "but don't pretend you're surprised."
"I am!" Elliott insisted.
"You call to tell me that Prince Samuel is bottoming for anyone and everyone and you don't expect me to show up?"
"I didn't say anyone and everyone. I specifically told you he's only doing it with men he's never fucked before."
"Men he's never fucked before and you. If he made an exception for you, he'll make one for me."
"I didn't say that!"
"No, of course not. You're not authorized to make any such offer, I know. I'll speak to His Highness myself. Is he here?"
Elliott didn't answer. But he may have inadvertently glanced upwards.
"Ah, I see," said Smythe. "He's in your tacky little apartment, right?" The count headed toward the stairs.
"He's with someone!"
The count stopped. "Oh. Yes, that would be awkward. Very well, then, I'll wait. Does your bartender know how to make a Sazerac?"
"Why? So you can copy the recipe and try to class up your dive? By the way, you're going to be waiting for a while. There are three other guys in line ahead of you."
"Does any of them have a title higher than count?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Then I'm jumping the line."
.
Jake and Ryder were standing at attention out in the hallway. They'd been expecting Dustin since shortly after the first time Prince Samuel screamed. They hadn't been expecting to hear him come a second time. When they did, Jake had whispered, "Maybe he found Darren!" and Ryder whispered back, "I doubt it." He hoped not anyway. This Dustin guy didn't look like anything special—he clearly wouldn't make His Highness happy.
The guy came out—finally!—and he looked...he almost looked remorseful. As well he should be! He had no business toying with Prince Samuel's emotions, trying to pass himself off as Darren...Okay, Ryder knew the guy didn't know about all that, but still. Still he probably knew, on some level, that he was taking unfair advantage of the prince.
"Sir, your shoe is untied," Jake informed him.
"Damn it!" Dustin said. He knelt to tie it. While he was down there, Ryder held out his cell phone, and when Dustin looked up at him, it struck him where he recognized the guy from. The ball! He'd had a mask on at the time, but Ryder was certain this was the guy who he'd seen from the same angle, kneeling in the middle of the ballroom with the prince's tailor! Which meant this scumbag was engaged! Or pre-engaged, or whatever Señor Martinez had called it.
Ryder wasn't going to tell the prince—not unless it turned out he somehow still thought this guy was Darren—but he was damn sure going to let this Dustin guy know he knew. He waited until the guy started down the stairs and then called after him, "By the way, congratulations, Mr. Goolsby! Señor Martinez told me the good news!" Dustin hesitated for a moment. Then, without turning around to acknowledge even having heard, he flew down the rest of the stairs.
Elliott was trying to watch for Dustin, but he also had a bar to run, and by the time he spotted him, Smythe was already halfway up the back staircase. Elliott has to ditch another patron mid-conversation to run after him. He found him at the top of the stairs, flirting with one of the guards.
"I heard the prince hired a hunky new guard since my last visit," he was saying to Ryder. "If I'd known how hunky I would've come back a lot sooner."
Ryder stood there impassively. Jake, however, said, "I see you haven't changed, Seba-...Lord Smythe."
"Not a bit," Smythe said. "And my invitation to you still stands, too, if you ever want to take a walk on the gay side. I'm not even underage anymore."
"Thank you, sir. I'll keep it in mind."
Jake turned to Mr. Gilbert. "Did you send Lord Smythe up to..." he started uncertainly. The count definitely didn't qualify as someone the prince had never had sex with. Mr. Gilbert had to know that, right?
"No, I absolutely did not! He barged up here all on his own."
"That's true," Lord Smythe said with a smile. "Mr. Gilbert failed to extend me the courtesy of inviting me up to say hello to my old friend, the prince. But tell him I'm here, won't you? I came all the way from Paris."
Ryder looked to Jake, who nodded. It was possible His Highness wouldn't want to see the count, but he wouldn't want to not be told he was there. Jake knocked and, not getting an answer, opened the door slightly. He heard the shower running. He asked Lord Smythe to wait and walked inside. "Your Highness?" he called from outside the bathroom door. "It's Jake."
"Did Elliott send the next guy up already?" the prince called back. "I was going to call him when I was ready."
"Not exactly, Your Highness, but there is someone here. I can wait until you're done."
The water stopped a minute later and soon after that the prince, wearing only a towel, opened the bathroom door. "Can you hand me my pants?" he asked. "Who is it?"
"The Count of Smythe, Your Highness."
"Dude, are you shitting me?"
"No, Your Highness."
Jake looked away, trying to locate the prince's pants, and while his head was turned the prince rushed out into the hallway, still in just his towel. "Sebastian!" he exclaimed, right before he engulfed the count in a bear hug. "My God, I haven't seen you in forever! What are you doing here?"
"I didn't invite him, Your Highness!"
The prince looked at Mr. Gilbert with evident confusion. "It's fine, Elliott. Me and Sebastian go way back."
"'Me and Sebastian'!? What would Mr. Carlisle say if he could hear you?"
"He wouldn't say shit because we ain't English-teacher-and-student no more, we're prince-and-subject. Jesus, Sebastian, come on in!"
Jake, meanwhile, had found the prince's clothes. "Your pants, Your Highness," he said, holding them out.
"Huh? Oh, thanks, Jake. You can just put them down wherever."
Jake laid them on the bed and retreated to the hallway.
Sebastian couldn't take his eyes off Sam in that little towel. Jesus Christ, he had missed this sight. In high school Sam had been remarkably well built for his age, but now he was even hotter. Sam casually dropped the towel then, and Sebastian forced himself not to stare. Just a tiny peek before the pants went on. Holy fuck. And the fact that the apartment—and Sam himself, Sebastian was pretty sure—smelled like coconut was doing nothing to help Sebastian act cool. He knew perfectly well what Sam used coconut oil for.
"So why are you here?" Sam asked, pulling his shirt on. "I mean, I'm happy to see you, just...you couldn't be bothered to come to my ball, but you show up now? Or wait...did you go to the ball, even though you RSVPed regrets?"
"No, I wasn't there, and I do regret it badly now. I wish I could have gotten in on your...experimental phase? I wish I could have gotten in on it earlier. I have to admit it rankles a bit that Elliott got to be first."
"Wait, that's why you're here!?"
"Yes, of course! You're finally bottoming and you thought I wouldn't be interested?"
"How did you even hear about that?"
"Elliott called me."
"He what!? God damn it, I told him I'm only doing it with guys I've never fucked."
"Yeah, he told me that. But Sam." Sebastian was technically supposed to call Sam "Your Highness" now, but he wanted to remind him of how close they'd once been. Besides, he still thought of him as Sam. "Sam, I was your first. You knew I always wanted to top, but I never pushed—"
"You pushed a little."
"Fine, I pushed a little, but I respected that you didn't think it was appropriate for a prince to take it. But now that you don't apparently have those qualms anymore, now that you're taking it from strangers...why wouldn't you want to let me?"
"It's not that I don't want to. It's just that...there are so many guys I haven't already had sex with, and if I include everyone I already have...I mean, that's a lot more to include, and it would be such a waste of time."
Sebastian stood up a little straighter. "Pardon me, Your Highness, if I never thought our time together was wasted."
"I didn't mean it like that, Sebastian. There are just potentially so many guys to get through and—"
"But why? And what's the rush? And why would you make an exception for Elliott and not for me?"
"Because...You know what, Sebastian? I have my reasons, and I don't have to explain them to you."
"I see, Your Highness. I apologize if I was out of line."
"Well...you were. But don't worry about it. We're old friends, like you said. I'd love to receive you at the palace tomorrow morning. We can have coffee and catch up, if you're free."
"Yes, I'm free." He'd traveled home just to see the prince; it wasn't as if he had other plans.
"Great. Talk to Jake...no, talk to Ryder, and he'll put something in my calendar. Now if you'll excuse me. There's some stranger waiting to fuck me."
