Cooper ached all over. Who knew being a male stripper was so difficult? At least he was getting better.

"You're not getting any better," Mike told him.

"What!? I've got the choreography down," Cooper protested.

"Yeah, I know you have it memorized, but that's the least important thing. The final choreography's probably going to look nothing like the routine we've been practicing."

"Then why have we been practicing it?"

"If I may..." Artie interrupted, getting up from the director's chair. "We're practicing so you guys can get into character. That's what's wrong with your dancing. I don't believe for a minute that you're a gay stripper."

"I'm gayer than Chang!" Cooper protested.

"I actually wasn't going to say anything, given that you're dating Chang's sister," Artie said. "But anyway, it doesn't matter how many dicks you've sucked in real life, all that matters is what comes across on the screen."

"Yeah, well for your information I've come across plenty of...uh..."

"Please don't finish that sentence," Mike said.

"Yeah, well, you get the point anyway." Cooper wasn't sure what his point had been, but Mike was a smart guy. If there were a point, Mike would be able to figure it out.

Mike told Artie they needed a break and pulled Cooper aside. "Have you heard of a bar called Corner Pocket?"

"Sure." It was this totally skeevy gay bar. Cooper loved it.

"I'm going there tonight. Come with me."

"We've already established that I'm dating your sister, right?"

"Not to pick anyone up. Just to watch the go-go boys—in a professional capacity—and get a feel for how they do it."

"Yeah, I don't know, man..." He'd dated women before who were paranoid that he missed dick so much he was inevitably going to cheat with men. Tina didn't seem paranoid so far, but they hadn't been together that long yet. Plus he hadn't gone to a gay bar behind her back. "Maybe tomorrow? I just really like her and I don't want to screw things up."

Mike responded with the universally recognized sound effect for whipped.

"Fuck you," Cooper said good-naturedly. He figured Mike meant his commentary the same way. "I just want to talk to her about it first. I'm probably not gonna see her until late tonight though, so..."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm still going tonight, so if you manage to get permission from the old ball and chain in time, come find me there."

.

Finn found Sam in his sitting room, playing his guitar. Sam didn't look especially happy to see him, but he invited him in.

"What's up?" Finn asked, trying to sound casual. "I haven't really seen you since the ball."

"Yeah, you know. I've been busy."

"Sure." Finn noticed Sam hadn't asked him to sit. He came in and made himself comfortable in an overstuffed armchair anyway. "Quinn said you had a visitor this morning. An old friend from high school."

"Yeah, the Count of Smythe. I hadn't seen him in a few years. He's been living abroad, so..."

"Uh-huh." Finn decided to just be direct. "Did you fuck him?"

Sam was startled by the question—he and Finn didn't really talk about this kind of thing, not after that one time—but he snapped out of it. "Uh, yeah. He was sort of my first, in fact."

"I meant today."

"Uh." Sam dropped into a chair facing the same direction as Finn's...mainly so he wouldn't have to look right at his brother-in-law. "Why would you..."

"Just making conversation. I mean, there's no one else here I can really talk to like this, so..."

"Yeah, okay." That was true enough. Finn hadn't really been able to maintain his guy friendships since becoming a member of the royal family. It was just that this conversation was starting to remind him of that one they'd had a few years ago, shortly after Sam had turned eighteen...

He'd been home on a break from school and Finn had suggested that, since Sam was legal now, they have a drink together. Sam had had a raging crush on Finn when he first met him, even though—or maybe because—he was utterly unobtainable thanks to the huge age difference and then, soon, Finn's engagement and marriage to Sam's sister. The crush had died down in the intervening years, but it hadn't entirely died out. So of course he said yes to a drink. Which turned into several drinks.

A couple rum-and-Cokes in, Finn remarked, "I hear you're one of the most popular guys at school."

Sam laughed. "I guess. Everyone sucks up to royalty though."

Then a couple more drinks in, and several topic changes later, Finn said, "Speaking of sucking..."

Sam had no idea what Finn was talking about. They were sitting on opposite sides of a sofa, Sam with his head back and his eyes closed. He opened them and whipped his head to the side to look at Finn, making himself lightheaded. "Huh?"

"Earlier," Finn said, scooting toward Sam's side just a bit. "We were talking about guys at school who suck."

Something about the way Finn said the word suck sounded so dirty that it made Sam think he meant it in the literal, dick-sucking way. Or maybe it was just because that's where Sam's mind was so much of the time. He wasn't quite drunk enough to want to talk about literal dick-sucking with his adult brother-in-law, though, so he just asked, as casually as he could, "Were we?"

"Relax, man." Finn leaned across the couch and playfully punched his shoulder. "I remember how it was there. All those horny guys. No girls in sight. Enough guys who actually like sucking cock that..." He shrugged. "I mean, everyone benefits, really."

Sam shouldn't have been shocked, really. Finn hadn't been a student that long ago—there was no reason to assume that things had been that much different just a few years earlier. Still, the only thing he could think to say was, "Does Quinn know?"

"I never let anyone blow me after we got engaged," Finn said defensively. "Obviously!"

"Oh. Okay." That was fair, Sam guessed. As much as he didn't like to think about his sister and sex, he happened to know that Finn hadn't been Quinn's first either. And obviously it didn't mean Finn was gay; if it did, then 90 percent of Sam's classmates would be gay.

"It was great, though," Finn said. "Some of those guys were really into sucking cock."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. Finn had him feeling nostalgic for boarding school even though he had another couple months till graduation.

"It made them really popular," Finn went on. "I mean, why wouldn't you like a guy who likes to suck your cock?"

"True."

"And you're really popular..."

"Uh. Wait. You aren't saying...Are you saying..."

"I'm saying..." Finn scooted closer and poked Sam in the shoulder, "... that I've heard you like to suck guys' cocks."

Finn was giving him this weird grin. Sam had no idea what it meant. "Heard from who?" he thought to ask. Finn didn't have any younger brothers or cousins or anything at the school. Who did he even know there still other than...well, Sam knew that Finn had been in the same class as Mr. Schuester, but Mr. Schuester didn't know anything...did he? And even if he did, he wouldn't say anything...would he? Unless this was, like, an intervention or something. Start acting like a prince or we'll have to tell the king what you've been up to. "Whoever said that is full of—"

"Relax." Finn placed his hand on Sam's arm. "I'm not going to tell Their Majesties or anything. And I'm not judging. You're gay, so what?"

Part of Sam wanted to deny he had any idea what Finn was talking about. But the part that really liked the idea of having someone at home who he could talk to won out. Still, he had to correct one thing: "I get my dick sucked way more than I suck other guys', actually. Just so you know."

Finn grinned at him again. "I guess royalty has some perks then." He held his hand up for a high-five and waited for Sam to slap it. "But, I mean, you do like sucking others guys' too. Right?"

"Uh...yeah, sometimes. I mean, I like dick. So what, right?"

"Right. It's totally cool. I mean..." Finn took a breath. "You get royalty perks that I don't get cause you were born to it and I only married into it and everyone knows that Quinn is a real princess and I'm only a prince consort and it's not the same at all and I haven't had one blowjob since we got engaged, not one, and I don't mean not just from anyone else I mean not at all because she says she doesn't have to do that because she's a princess but you do it and you're a prince and you like it, right?, but Quinn doesn't like it I guess and I miss blowjobs so much and...I mean, you like it, so..." And he trailed off and just looked at Sam pleadingly.

Sam didn't catch all of what Finn said, but he was pretty sure he knew what he was asking. And Finn was cute as hell and it wasn't like Sam had never thought about it, but...but he couldn't believe Finn was actually asking. Very carefully, Sam said, "Dude. You're married to my sister."

"I know. But don't you see that I can't ask anyone else? Anyone else might go to the press, or..."

Sam scoffed. He didn't really want to encourage Finn to cheat on Quinn, but he had to point out the obvious: "The press doesn't care what we do."

"What you do, no. I'm just a prince consort. People love you and Quinn. They only love me because I love Quinn."

"Do you even?" Sam had never doubted it before, but...

"Of course! How can you even ask that when I've..." Finn stood, wobbling a little. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I had too much to drink and said some shit I shouldn't...Can we forget this happened? It won't again, I promise."

Sam agreed to forget about it, and he almost literally had. Until now, anyway, with Finn bringing up Sam's sex life for no reason. "Look, man, I know you don't have a lot of people to talk to. No offense, but I don't really feel like talking about what I do, and I really don't want to hear about what you and my sister do, so..."

"No, I..." Finn wished he'd been able to think of a good reason to tell Quinn that him talking to Sam about this was a bad idea. But he hadn't, and then he'd attempted it in the worst possible way, and now Sam was probably thinking of that night when...Okay, no use panicking. "Actually, Quinn wanted me to ask."

"Quinn wants to know who I'm fucking?"

"God, I'm screwing this all up." Finn ran a hand through his hair. "She wanted me to find out why you aren't with the guy from the ball. We all really liked him. I mean, we didn't really meet him per se, but we thought you seemed so happy with him."

Now Sam was the one to mess up his own hair. "Yeah. He was great, right? I'm trying to find him again, I just..."

"Did you guys have a fight? Is he not answering your calls?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's just—"

"If you had a fight, I don't think sleeping with other guys is going to help."

"We didn't have a fight. I just don't know where he is, and...and I don't even know his name, and it's complicated, but I'm doing everything I can to find him."

Finn was silent for a moment. How could Sam not even know the guy's name? Finn had seen the two of them talking—it wasn't all just fucking that night. But he guessed that didn't matter, if Sam really wanted to find him. "Well, let us help. What do you know about him? Where is he from? What does he look like without his mask?"

Sam stood up. "Finn, I appreciate you wanting to help. Really. And if I could explain it in a way that made any kind of sense I'd take you up on it. But I can't, so..." He walked to the door and held it open.

Finn got the not-at-all-subtle message and stood up also. He stood in the doorway and, before leaving, said, "You know, if it wasn't what it looked like with that guy at the ball, it's okay. You don't have to pretend you're trying to find him if what you really want is for things to be like they always have been. Just tell me that and I'll tell Quinn and we'll both butt out."

"That's not it at all," Sam told him, although he could tell from the look on his face that Finn didn't believe him.

.

Blaine called Dani again as soon as he got on the bus after his shift at the bookstore. He was on his way to the restaurant where he would see her in person, but they didn't always get a chance to talk if it was busy. Besides, he couldn't wait.

"Did you find out anything?" he asked in lieu of hello as soon as she answered.

Dani hesitated and said, "I assume your father wasn't, like, geriatric when you were born, right? And that he hadn't been previously married to Gloria Vanderbilt?"

Blaine knew she was joking, but he patiently answered anyway. "No, the name is just a coincidence."

"Well, that's the only Anderson Cooper I could find, the American journalist. I mean, I guess anyone with the same name as a celebrity is bound to get buried in a Google search, but even when I limited it to the kingdom everything I found was about Anderson Cooper the journalist when he came here to report on the royal wedding."

Blaine managed not to sigh at the words royal wedding. "Okay. Well, I guess my Anderson Cooper is unlisted and not famous."

"I'll try tracking down his mother tomorrow," Dani promised. "I mean, how many Lisa Coopers could there be in the kingdom?"

"Yeah," Blaine said hopefully.

"I mean, assuming she didn't get married and change her name in the meantime," Dani added.

"Yeah," Blaine agreed, not as hopefully. And assuming she didn't unlist her information or leave the kingdom or die. He hated that the last thing even popped into his head, but he was too aware that it could happen to not consider the possibility. Especially since he knew it wasn't just a possibility for Lisa but for Anderson as well.

.

Mike tried a few more times to talk Cooper into going to Corner Pocket with him, but with no luck. So he talked Artie into it instead. Not that Artie needed much persuasion—this was his first time directing a movie, and he was all about doing research. Plus he still needed some more backup dancers.

Artie got recognized before they even walked inside. Two guys ran up to him and one of them asked, "Aren't you that cute guy in the wheelchair!?"

"Um, obviously not," Artie said, gesturing to the perfectly functioning legs he was standing on.

"No, I get that you're an actor, not the character you played! I mean, you are him, right? I just loved you so much in Wheels and I'm so excited and nervous now that I can't remember your real name. Could you write it down for me?"

"Like an autograph?"

"Yeah!"

"Sure," Artie said, smiling.

"Ooh, and selfies!" the guy with him added.

Mike slipped away. He'd actually been in Wheels too, but in a pretty minor role. He hardly ever got recognized, which was fine.

It was early still and not too crowded inside, so he could see all the dancers pretty easily. Most of them weren't that great, honestly. No technique at all, just rhythmic (or in a few unfortunate cases, not-quite-rhythmic) ass-shaking. He knew he was being too critical, of course. These guys weren't trained dancers, and their asses were a lot more important to the patrons here than the artistic merits of their dancing.

There was one dancer up on the bar who actually was really good, though. And hot. He had pale skin and dark, wavy hair and bright blue eyes that stood out even in the darkish bar. Not to mention an amazing ass displayed to perfection by a little red thong. Mike watched him carefully, not only to learn from his dance moves, but also wondering if he might make a good dancer for the movie. If Artie ever got away from his fans, Mike would ask him about the guy.

The song ended and all the guys who were dancing on the bar got down, while others took their places. The guy Mike had been watching headed straight to him. "Hey, cutie." The guy danced around him in a circle and ended up grinding his ass maybe a half an inch from Mike's junk.

"You're very good," Mike said, gingerly tucking a single under the strap of the guy's thong.

The guy smiled at him over his shoulder. "Who told you?"

Mike laughed and tucked another bill under the strap on the guy's other hip. "I meant at dancing."

"Oh, that."

Mike glanced around and spotted Artie, free from the fans and apparently looking for him. He waved until he got Artie's attention. To the dancer he said, "My friend is looking for dancers for a movie. Can I introduce you to him?"

"Sorry, I don't leave with customers."

"No, I mean, he's here. He's walking over here."

"Oh, sure, introduce me to your director friend, then." Something about the way the guy said it made Mike think he didn't believe Artie was a director. "Maybe he won't be as shy as you."

"I'm shy?"

"You're allowed to touch me when you're shoving it in, baby." The guy winked at him and said, "It meaning money, obviously."

"Obviously." The guy was wiggling his ass meaningfully. Mike looked around and saw that everyone else who was giving the dancers money was groping them pretty heavily under their "costumes." This guy did have a really nice ass. Mike was mostly interested in women, but he would totally fuck this guy if they met in a different context. But since there was a chance they'd end up coworkers, he didn't think it was a good idea even to grope him. "I'm good, though." He put a five under the strap and said, "I'm serious about the movie."

The guy looked like he was about to dance away, but just then Artie got there. "You're an actor!" the dancer said. "I saw you in that thing!"

"Thanks," Artie said, although it had really just been a statement and not an actual compliment.

"Your friend here is trying to pass you off as a director."

"I am directing a movie. He's my lead dancer and choreographer." Artie launched into a detailed description of the movie and what the two of them were doing at Corner Pocket.

Eric, as they learned the dancer's name was, eventually started taking them seriously. At least that was how Mike interpreted it when he stopped grinding on them. Suddenly he cut Artie off mid-sentence and said, "Shit, here comes my boss. One of you put your hands on my ass, quick!"

Artie looked terrified at the prospect, so Mike did it. Yeah, Eric had a really, really nice ass.

"Good evening, Lord Smythe," Eric said to his boss, grinding in between Mike and Artie. "My new best friends here want to put me in a movie," he said with a wink.

"I'm sure they do," Lord Smythe said. "Listen, I just got word that your favorite customer is visiting tonight."

"Prince Samuel!?" Eric exclaimed.

Lord Smythe rolled his eyes. "I didn't say his name for a reason."

"Sorry!" Eric slipped out from between Mike and Artie. "You guys will have to excuse me. I have to go get ready in case I'm going to get lucky tonight!"

"You're not," Lord Smythe told him. "He has this crazy plan where..." He glanced at Artie and then at Mike, as if debating whether to talk in front of them, before apparently deciding it was okay and continuing. "He's bottoming now. For any guy who wants to fuck him, provided it's someone he hasn't had sex with already. And he wants me to find guys who fit that description, so I thought maybe you'd know who here he hasn't already fucked."

"Wait, are you serious?" Mike asked. "The actual Prince Samuel?"

"Wait, he's bottoming now?" Eric asked.

"Yeah, but not for you."

Eric pouted and said, "I don't want to fuck him. I want him to fuck me.".

"That's not in the cards tonight either," Lord Smythe said. "Now point out a couple guys here who he hasn't already screwed."

"Are you talking about the actual Prince Samuel?" Mike asked again. He thought maybe it was a code name for some guy who just maybe looked a little like him and spent a lot of money there or something. But if it really was the actual prince...holy shit!

"The one and only," Lord Smythe said. "Son of King Dwight, fifth in line for the throne."

"He hasn't already screwed me!" Mike said.

Lord Smythe looked at Mike, then at Eric. "Is he telling the truth?"

"I have no idea."

"But you don't have any particular reason to suspect he's lying?"

"I've never seen them together. I've never seen this guy at all before tonight." He turned to Mike and asked, "Are you even gay?"

"Gay enough to want to fuck Prince Samuel!"

"Oh, this is perfect," Lord Smythe said. "Yes. Stay here, and I'll get you when he's ready. Eric, see who else you can find. Unless..." He looked at Artie questioningly.

"Nah, I'm good."

"He means yes!" Mike said, giving Artie a look that he hoped conveyed Do not argue with me!

"But I'm not even—"

"He's not even a person who's had sex with His Highness before, so it's all good."

"I'm not even gay, is actually what I was trying to say."

"See?" Mike said to Lord Smythe. "That just proves he and the prince haven't done it before."

"It doesn't actually prove that, but I'll take your word for it." Lord Smythe clapped Artie on the back. "You can go after your friend."

.

The king and queen were walking in the garden after dinner. "It's getting dark so early already," Dwight remarked. "I'm sorry I couldn't join you earlier, when it was still light out."

"That's all right," Mary said. "The garden isn't much to look at this time of year anyway." Not having remembered to wear gloves, she took her husband's hand for warmth.

"Samuel is still avoiding me," Dwight said. "Not that I blame him for being embarrassed to show his face around me! How he could not even know that young man's name..." Dwight took a breath. He'd already expressed his frustration with Samuel to Mary; there was no use going into it all again. "Oh, that reminds me, though...I need to ask Carole to cancel my meeting with Senator Berry."

Mary squeezed his hand a little tighter. "Might I make a suggestion, darling?"

"Yes, of course."

"Don't cancel it."

"But sweetheart, Samuel might not ever even find this man again. What are the chances that he's going to actually want to marry him?"

"I have no idea." Rationally, Mary would have to say they probably weren't that high, especially if she were to give any credence to Finn's impression, as relayed by Quinn. She happened to still believe, despite the evidence, that the two would still end up together somehow, but she determined to keep that belief to herself. It wasn't the point anyway. "But don't you think it's better that the two things don't seem so obviously related?"

"But they are related!"

"Yes, but..." But they shouldn't be, Mary thought.

"Why would I want to encourage LeRoy to introduce legislation to change the marriage laws for the entire kingdom when it likely won't even matter?"

Sometimes Mary wanted to just slap Dwight. She knew he meant well, but he could be so infuriatingly myopic. "Won't matter for whom, darling?" she asked sweetly. "Surely even if it doesn't matter for Samuel it will matter for LeRoy and his Hiram. How long have they been together now?"

"I don't know. Since before LeRoy was elected to the Senate, I think, so..."

"So a quarter of a century at least, with no way to get married. And what about Quinn's friend, the Duke of Pierce's daughter?"

"Pierce does not want his daughter to marry that girlfriend of hers."

"Well, I don't understand people who don't want their own children to be happy."

"Neither do I, frankly. I do want Quinn and Samuel to be happy. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do. You're a great father." Mary pressed against her husband's side. "But you know, you're not just a father. You're also the king, and the king doesn't have to think about just his own children."

Dwight sighed. "It seemed so much easier when my father did it." His father had been a great king. But then he'd died so young and Dwight hadn't really known what he was doing when he ascended to the throne, and all these years later it still sometimes felt like he didn't. Which reminded him of all he still needed to talk to Quinn about! At times he wished he were just a father and a grandfather so he could talk to her about normal things like...like the new pet she was getting for the girls. "Do you think they'll really name that dog Bob?"

Accustomed to her husband's non sequiturs, Mary just smiled and said, "Probably. Quinn did tell Beth she could pick the name."

"But it's a female dog!"

"Quinn said Beth could name her," Mary repeated. They walked a bit farther, to the point where the path turned back toward the palace. "So will you keep the appointment with LeRoy?"

"I will. But without Samuel to help sell it to the public...Well, I hope LeRoy has some ideas."

.

Sebastian was showing the apartment that the prince would be using for his experiments to the hunky new guard, Ryder. "Brand new sheets," he pointed out. "Though of course I had them laundered so they won't be all stiff against His Highness's skin."

"Yes, sir," Ryder said, inspecting a closet and not even sparing a glance at the bed. "I'm more interested in the entrances and exits." He was no fun at all. Cute in his diligence, but not fun. Eventually he was satisfied that Sebastian hadn't booby-trapped the place, and he called down to the other guard to bring the prince up.

Sebastian bowed when the prince entered. He expected Sam to tell him to stop and hug him instead, like at the palace, but he didn't. Sebastian tried not to let his face betray any disappointment. "Well, I hope you'll find it comfortable, Your Highness. If you'd like the sheets changed between...well, I can have that arranged, of course." He figured that even if Ryder didn't care about the sheets, Sam would.

"Thanks, Sebastian. Did you find anyone for me?"

"Yes. Two men, who...I can't vouch personally, of course, but they claim they've never been with you, and I'm reasonably confident they're telling the truth."

"Yeah, good." Or was it? Fuck, maybe Sam was going about this all wrong, because if someone just asked Darren if he'd had sex with Sam, and if Darren answered honestly...Shit, shit, shit! "Uh...did you turn away any guys who said they had had sex with me?"

"No. Just Eric, but he was only interested if you were going to top."

"Oh, thank God," Sam said, letting out a deep breath. "Yeah, tell Eric I say hi and I'm sorry. You should give him a raise, he's amazing."

"You know all the go-go boys get minimum wage plus tips, right? So if you think he deserves a raise..."

"Yeah, I know. Ryder..." Sam was about to ask Ryder to take a tip down to Eric later, but then he remembered he was spending his allowance on Jake's salary now. Seeing Ryder waiting for him to continue, he shook his head and said, "Never mind."

"Would you like me to line up some more?" Sebastian asked. "Do you want to meet with more than the two tonight?"

"No, don't." Sam had to think of a better way to have people screen men for him. Or maybe he'd have to start doing it himself. Anyway, he might not have time for more than two in one night. He had tried to rush through Benjamin the night before and ended up traumatizing the poor guy. (Hopefully he called that Trent guy and felt better now.) "Two should be plenty for now. I really can't thank you enough for helping me with this."

"Well, I do know of one way you could thank me," Sebastian said with a wink.

"Ha ha, you wish."

Damn. That was not the response Sebastian was hoping for. "I'll go get the first one. His name is Mike Chang."

"Chang?"

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"No, just...he's Asian?"

"Yes?" Sebastian wasn't sure why Sam was asking like that. He wasn't racist. He hadn't even seemed to have any particular physical type in high school, racially or otherwise.

"Okay. Ryder can go with you and bring him back." Sam wondered if Kurt would have gone so far as to disguise Darren's race. He couldn't rule it out. And anyway, had there maybe been something slightly Asian-like in Darren's features? Not that it mattered, since he might look different in every way in real life.

No, what concerned him more was the fact that this Mike Chang had apparently explicitly said that he had never had sex with Sam. People lied, of course; it wasn't like Sam didn't know that. It was just that Darren didn't seem the type. Unless he felt like he had to, because of Kurt. That was enough of a possibility to convince Sam that going through with it with this guy and the next wasn't pointless. Thanks to Kurt's new rule he would have to go through with it even it were pointless, but one of them could actually be Darren. They were both long-shots still, but it wasn't like he had a better plan.

Back in the bar Mike and Artie were dancing, Mike just because he loved to dance even when he wasn't working, and Artie because he was trying to get into character. He was an actor, after all, and if he couldn't convincingly play the part of a gay strip club patron who would be thrilled at the chance to fuck a hot prince...well, then he had no business directing a gay movie. (That is, it wasn't a gay movie, according to the studio. Only one of the stripper characters was gay, and that was never even stated explicitly. But still, everyone knew that a large part of the intended audience was gay men.) When the bar's owner and some other guy came to take Mike to the prince, Artie slapped him on the ass and told him, "You go, girl!" He regretted the You go, girl immediately, and the look Mike gave him confirmed he was right to regret it. But he put it out of his mind and started looking around the room, trying to decide which dancer "gay Artie" would find most attractive.

.

The first thing the prince said to Mike was, "I know you!"

"You do?" Mike was certain he'd remember if they'd ever met, but on the other hand he wasn't about to contradict the prince.

"Sure, you were in that movie. You mocked that wheelchair guy who wanted to learn to dance."

"Oh wow, you remember me from that one scene? I'm so flattered! I hope it's not just because my character was such an unbelievable..." Wait, can you say asshole in front of royalty? Probably not.

"No, no. I mean, yeah, the character was a douchebag, but I mainly remember because you were hot. Are hot, I mean. And your dancing was amazing...unless that was a stunt dancer."

"No, it was me. Wow. Thank you, Your Highness. I don't even know what to say!" He really didn't. A totally spontaneous and sincere compliment from the prince!

Wouldn't it be cool if it turned out Darren was a dancer? Like, Sam had already danced with him and it was pretty much the best thing ever—aside from the sex—but the dance itself was a boring waltz or something, Sam couldn't even remember. But if Darren was Mike, someone who danced in the movies and probably other places too—obviously he must have practiced a lot—and got all the guys all hot and bothered watching him, but Sam was the only one who actually got to have him? That would be so fucking hot.

Sam knew he was getting ahead of himself. He knew that of all the guys Mike had gotten hot and bothered with his dancing, he'd probably slept with some of them. Sam hadn't even bothered telling Sebastian to find him an almost-virgin, since that hadn't really worked anyway. But there was still a chance. He stepped over to Sebastian's stereo and asked, "Dance with me?"

"I'd love that!"

The thought crossed Sam's mind to put on something classical, but he immediately dismissed it. There was only one comparison between Mike and Darren that was going to matter, and it wasn't ballroom dancing. He put on some dance music with a thumping bass line. Mike got into it immediately, moving gracefully and effortlessly. He wasn't the first to go dirty, though. He was reserved until Sam took off his own shirt and started dancing closer, and then he lost his shirt too and started dancing grindier...though still without actually touching. Sam was the one who eventually turned around, pressed his back against Mike's chest, and ground his ass against Mike's crotch.

Mike hadn't been sure until that moment whether the dancing was supposed to be separate from the sex, but he took the prince grinding against his hard-on as a sign that it was okay for the dancing to lead directly to the sex. While they moved to the music together, Mike opened the front of the prince's pants and slowly let his hand slide inside. Prince Samuel was hard, and he groaned softly when Mike's fingers brushed up and down his dick. With his other hand he stroked the prince's chest, which was warm now and a little bit sweaty. The prince drew in a sharp breath when Mike squeezed his nipple; Mike pulled the prince back against him harder, slowly licked from his collar bone up to just under his ear, and asked, "Here?"

"Wherever you want me," Sam answered. He had been pretty wrapped up in their dancing, in Mike touching him, and not analyzing everything to see whether it seemed Darren-like. He almost wanted to delay the moment when he would find out for sure, but he was horny as hell and ready to get fucked. Anyway, finding out was why he was doing this in the first place. "There's a jar of oil on the fireplace mantle. You can use that as lube."

Oil instead of lube? That sounded like some upper-class kind of thing that regular people never heard of. This whole apartment was tastefully luxurious, like way nicer than the outside of the building or the neighborhood in general would suggest. It must be so nice to be a prince. He probably had little places like this all over the city.

Mike stepped away from the prince to get the oil. Even though he was already warm from dancing, the fire felt nice, and he took his pants and shoes off there in front of it. When he turned back he saw that the prince had similarly removed the rest of his clothes and draped them over the back of the leather couch. Mike was struck by the idea that the prince would look good draped over the back of the leather couch. If he'd been with some random guy he would have taken wherever you want me completely literally, but since this was the prince, he thought he should probably be sure. "Whereever?" he asked, looking meaningfully at where he was picturing His Highness.

Bent over the couch, huh? Sam probably would have made the same choice if the roles were reversed. Not with Darren, of course, but...Okay, no overanalyzing. He positioned himself the way he'd like Mike to be positioned if they were doing this the other way.

Mike stood behind the prince, who looked really, really good from this particular angle. He ran his hands admiringly over his back and shoulder muscles, appreciating how hard the prince must work to keep them in that state. Not that he had a real job competing for his time, but Mike admired them anyway. Even his ass had amazing tone and definition. A perfect guy's ass. Mike poured some of the oil onto his fingers.

The oil was a surprise—much warmer than Sam was used to. He hadn't placed it above the fire with that it mind—the mantle had just been the closest surface—but it was really nice. Mike's strong fingers were nice too. Sam was almost disappointed when Mike asked if he was ready. But he was ready, and he said, "Do me."

Do me. Mike almost laughed at the idea that the freaking prince was bent over a couch saying that to him right now. This was not at all how he'd expecting this day to be ending; he was going to have to get Cooper flowers or something to thank him for dancing so badly.

Mike pushed his dick in carefully, but not...no, wait, Sam should wait until it was all the way in before he judged. Mike was going slowly. That was a good sign: he didn't want to hurt Sam. Also maybe he was being overly cautious due to inexperience, which was potentially another good sign. But by the time his dick was fully buried, Sam knew he wasn't Darren. There was just nothing...nothing loving about the way Mike was fucking him. Not even anything particularly affectionate. The dick inside him was just a dick, and while Mike seemed nice enough, he was just a guy.

It wasn't like Sam objected in principle to just-sex. Obviously. If he didn't let himself get too disappointed, he could enjoy this for what it was.

Anal sex was the best. Mike wished more women were into it. Next time a woman told him it was degrading he was going to tell her it couldn't be too degrading if the prince was willing to take a cock up his ass. Oh, if he'd be allowed to tell about this, which he'd have to find out about later. Right now he still kind of couldn't believe what and who he was doing. He wasn't the first one to do the prince in the ass, he was sure of that. Not just because it wouldn't make any sense for a prince to get some random guy in a bar to be his first (though that was evidence enough), but because he was taking it so easily. It wasn't that his ass wasn't nice and tight—God, it was!—but the prince wasn't showing any signs of discomfort even. Maybe Mike could fuck him a bit harder? Experimentally he thrust in a little more forcefully.

"Yeah, that's good," the prince said. Thank God. He went a little harder and a little faster still and got nothing but encouraging feedback. Soon the prince was reaching for his cock. Oh God, the prince was going to come while Mike fucked him! Mike kind of wanted to grab Prince Samuel's dick and do the honors himself, but he was also a little afraid he'd mess things up. He wasn't totally inexperienced with guys, but his gay experiences had all involved only one dick—his—and the other guy's ass and/or mouth. Instead of trying something new on the prince and potentially have it backfire, he decided to stick with what the prince already seemed to be enjoying, and what he was definitely enjoying. He braced his arms on the back of the couch and started nailing His Highness as hard and as fast as he could.

Sam jerked himself as fast as Mike was pounding him. "Oh fuck, oh fuck!" he cried, spilling onto his fist.

"Your Highness!" Mike was completely undone by the prince coming on his cock, helpless to do anything but surge forward one last time and unload inside him. It seemed to go on a long time, several moments when he was aware of nothing but pure bliss.

But it had to end eventually, and he regained awareness of other things, like the fact that it would be pretty uncomfortable to stay in this position all night, so he stepped back. And then he became aware that he had no idea what post-coital protocol was with royalty.

Luckily the prince didn't seem to find the situation awkward. (Did someone like Prince Samuel ever feel awkward? Probably not!) He stood up and patted Mike on the shoulder and said, "Thanks, Mike. That was fun." And he put his clothes back on so Mike did the same and let himself be ushered out of the apartment, where the prince's guard gave him back his phone and told him to have a nice evening. Mike said something about how it couldn't get any nicer than it had already been, and the guard gave him a very, very slight smile.

.

Blaine had been right in thinking it might be too busy to talk to Dani at Hungry's: they barely mangaged to say more than hi to each other while they were working. It slowed down a bit during the last hour of their shifts, but Blaine spent any free time he might have had cleaning like a madman so his boss wouldn't have an excuse to make him stay late. He was able to leave, on time, when Dani did. Blaine held the back door open for her and chattered away while they walked to the coffee shop next door that they sometimes went to when they got off work at the same time. "Okay," he said, "I want to know everything you found out. Even if it's nothing. And maybe we can look at some pictures of the American Anderson Cooper and see if there's a family resemblance after all, because that would be pretty cool, right? Just kidding! But I have a smartphone now, so—"

"Seriously, you finally got a smartphone? How'd you get Shelby to let you?"

"I, uh..." Obviously Blaine couldn't tell her it was from his fairy godmother (who was male). "She doesn't know."

Dani gasped in feigned shock. "Blaine, you naughty boy!" She laughed then and said, "No, seriously. Good for you!"

"Yeah, at some point I'll probably ask you for tips on how to get the most out of it." They reached the door to the coffee shop and Blaine held it open for Dani. "But for tonight all we really need is Google, and we can—"

"Sunshine! I hope you weren't waiting too long!" Dani ran to her girlfriend, who was walking toward them and who Blaine had completely forgotten they were meeting tonight.

"Hi, sweetheart!" Sunshine took Dani's hand and stood on her tiptoes to give her a peck on the mouth. "No worries, I got here early to work out a training plan for Blaine. Do you want to hang out with us while we work? It'll probably be pretty boring for you, but you're more than welcome."

"Mmm...nah, I'd only be in your way. We're still on for lunch tomorrow, right?"

"We are so on for lunch tomorrow." Sunshine smiled at Dani and squeezed her hand before turning to Blaine. "You ready, or do you want to get a coffee or something to go? Usually I go to my clients' houses, but given your stepmom situation, mine is probably best."

"Okay, well, have fun! But work hard!" Dani turned to leave.

"Dani, wait!"

Dani turned back. "What?"

"I mean, weren't we going to..." Blaine turned to Sunshine instead. "I'm really sorry, but I kind of forgot you and I were meeting tonight and...see, I found out I have a brother! Well, a half-brother, but...And Dani is helping me track him down but we really haven't had a chance to even talk hardly, and...Could you and I do this another time?"

Sunshine looked at him for what felt like a really long time, her expression totally unreadable.

Dani was the first one to speak. "Sunshine?"

"Honey, could you excuse Blaine and I for a minute?"

Blaine didn't hear Dani's response as Sunshine was pulling him outside. He found himself backed against the wall looking down at the tiny, inscrutable girl and wondering what was going on and how he could possibly feel intimidated by her. As he was trying to think of something to say, she asked him suddenly, "Is this half-brother of yours rich?"

It was so not what he was expecting to be asked, and it wasn't something he'd even wondered about before. "I don't...not that I know of. Like I said, we haven't tracked him down yet, so—"

"Then maybe mooching off him for the rest of your life isn't the best plan."

"No! That's not...I don't want to mooch off him! I just want to meet him!"

"Your plan isn't to ingratiate yourself with your wealthy and generous half-brother and live a life of luxury? Never have to work again? Because that's the only reason I can think of for you to not want to get into the conservatory after all."

"No! No, no! Anyway, I don't even consider singing work really, so—"

"It is work, though. And if you're not willing to put in the work to get accepted, then don't waste my time and yours."

.

Artie was in over his head.

Here he was in a gay bar, about to have his first gay sexual experience (and he couldn't even handle contemplating the fact that it was going to be with the prince of all people, so he mentally glossed over that detail as much as he could), and he realized he didn't know the first thing about gay culture. Which maybe wouldn't be so bad...if he weren't directing a de facto gay movie! What the hell was he thinking!? He should back out of the male stripper movie and go direct a nice heterosexual rom-com instead. Except he didn't really know anything about women either...oh God, oh God...

He had to step outside for a minute. He wasn't having a panic attack, not yet, but if he didn't get some air...

The air didn't help that much, actually. Well, it did in that it calmed him down enough to know he wasn't going to have a full-blown panic attack, but what he really needed was to get out of there entirely, just go home and reconsider all his life choices to this point. He guessed he shouldn't just disappear if the prince was going to be waiting for him, so he went back in to find the guy who had set the whole thing up and tell him to find someone else. It actually would have been great to meet the prince, but not if it meant meeting him just to admit he wasn't up for the whole sex thing. So to speak.

As soon as he went back inside to find Lord Whatever-His-Name-Was, a guy in a wheelchair approached him. "Excuse me. Aren't you Artie Abrams?"

"Yes."

"I saw you in Wheels."

"Thank you."

"You know, I thought you were actually disabled. Like, in real life."

"Really? Thank you!" Artie had been told this before, but the importance of it really hit him right now. He hadn't known anything about what it was like to be a wheelchair user until he started doing research for the part. And yet he'd pulled it off convincingly—he'd even fooled an actual wheelchair user! He could pull off the gay thing, not just as an actor but as a director too!

"Well, I mean...Don't you feel kind of bad about taking a part that a real disabled person could have played?"

"You really didn't know I wasn't disabled for real?"

"No."

"Thanks! That means so much to me!" Artie shook the guy's hand and went off to look for the bar owner. Not to back out, but in case it was almost time.

And it was almost time, as it turned out. Only a few minutes after he got back to the bar he saw Mike return. Yeah, this was going to be fine—great, even—if Mike's happy demeanor was any indication. Of course Mike was actually a little bi, but... Before he even had a chance to ask Mike how it had gone, Artie was being led outside and across the street to an apartment where the prince was waiting.

Sebastian left Artie to get patted down in the hallway by the prince's guards while he went inside to inform the prince that the next guy was here. Sam's face was all flushed, and while Sebastian knew it could very well be from having just gotten out of a hot shower, he couldn't shake the thought that it was from being fucked. It wasn't a great feeling, thinking of random guys doing that to Sam. Not after they'd been together and Sebastian had really felt like...

Sam had warned him not to get his hopes up, he remembered. Based on his and Sam's pasts he should have known better than to expect anything. Still, "helping" the prince in the way he was know felt just...icky. He didn't know if he could keep doing it.

"Please tell me the next guy is a dancer too," Sam said, brushing his fingers through his hair.

"No, a movie director. Or so he told Eric anyway."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure Eric has heard all kinds of lies from guys who want to get in his thong."

"Naturally. Though this guy said he's straight, so maybe he is really a director."

"Wait, you sent me a straight guy!?"

"Yeah. Less chance that you've already fucked him."

"Jesus Christ, Sebastian!"

"I don't understand why you're upset, Your Highness. Seducing straight guys was something of a specialty of yours, if I recall correctly."

"This isn't seducing! I don't have time to waste on guys who can't possibly be..."

Sebastian waited for the end of that sentence. He was extremely curious now just what it was Sam was looking for that a straight guy couldn't possibly be. But Sam was pacing now and didn't seem inclined to say more. Eventually Sebastian just stated the obvious: "So I take it you'd like me to find someone different."

"No, damn it. If he said he wants to fuck me then I have to let him."

"Why?"

"Just send him in so I can get this over with!"

Sebastian left wordlessly, and Sam felt only a little bad for snapping at him. He knew he couldn't expect Sebastian to know who Sam was looking for, but it just seemed like common sense should dictate...

Oh, here was Jake with the next guy, Artie Abrams. As Jake was presenting him, Sam recognized him from the same movie he had recognized Mike from. Strange that he wasn't in a wheelchair; Sam could have sworn... But there was no time for that. "You're straight," Sam said as soon as Jake had left.

Artie stood stone-faced, but inside he was crushed. How could the prince tell? Had Artie not walked gay enough? Had he not stood or bowed gay enough? He hadn't done anything else, he had no idea where he'd gone wrong.

The prince was just watching him, waiting for a response, and Artie was pretty close to panicking. A great actor would rise to the challenge: deny the accusation or laugh it off and go on to prove how gay he really was. But...was Artie actually a great actor?

Wait, Artie remembered something now. He'd briefly considered becoming a lawyer before he decided to pursue acting instead, and while he'd been preparing to apply to law schools he'd been studying the constitution, and there was something in there about it being actually considered an act of treason to lie to a member of the royal family! Of course the courts had ruled the provision unenforceable nearly two centuries ago, but still! It wasn't a lack of confidence in his acting skills but a refusal to be an actual traitor that led Artie to admit, "Yes, Your Highness."

"Then why did you tell Lord Smythe that you want to have sex with me?" Prince Samuel demanded.

"I..." Artie couldn't admit that it was just for the acting challenge. And, anyway, that idea hadn't occurred to him until Mike had already left. Why had he said he wanted to do this? And then he remembered: "Actually, Your Highness, I didn't. My friend answered for me, and I just...I guess I just went along with it."

Sam's mood lightened instantly. "Oh! It was all just a misunderstanding then. So we don't have to!" He patted Artie on the shoulder.

"No, Your Highness. I guess we don't."

"I'm glad we figured that out and saved ourselves the trouble!" Sam put his arm around Artie's shoulder. "Come on. I'll walk back to the bar with you."

"Thank you, Your Highness." Artie wasn't sure if that was the proper response, but somehow it didn't seem like you could just say Okay to a prince. Or worse, refuse the offer.

Sam led Artie out into the hallway and then stopped. "Oh, I can't believe I almost forgot to tell you: I loved you in Wheels!"

"Really, Your Highness? Wow, thank you!"

"Jake, Ryder, this was the main guy in Wheels. Wasn't he great in it?" Both the guards agreed with the prince's assessment. The prince added, "I almost didn't recognize you because I thought you used a wheelchair in real life!" The compliment completely made Artie's whole week, and he forgot all about not having been able to pass for gay.

.

"You're sure you don't have any weed?" Sandy asked the guy in the back seat as he pulled up to the address. The guy had insisted at least three times that he didn't smoke, but he was a white American with dreadlocks and tattoos, so who did he think he was fooling? "I swear I'm not a cop!"

"Sorry, man." Joe looked around nervously. The neighboorhood they were in wasn't as bad as some he knew existed back home, but there was something about being in a foreign country that made the slight sketchiness of the neighborhood seem more ominous. That and the Uber driver who kept hounding him for illegal (he was pretty sure they were illegal here too) drugs!

"Fine, whatever." Sandy threw the car into park. "This is it."

"Are you sure?" Joe asked, even as he spotted the neon sign above the doorway that said "Corner Pocket." That was where his cousin said he worked, all right. Joe had just been picturing it as more of a pool hall.

The driver reached around to the back door and opened it, saying, "Out you go, narc."

Joe stood on the sidewalk and watched the car screech its tires and peel out. Maybe showing up at Eric's workplace unannounced wasn't such a great idea after all. True, Eric had issued him a standing invitation last time they'd seen each other, but he probably didn't really expect Joe to just show up from the U.S. without so much as an e-mail. Probably if he had thought it was a real possibility, he would have mentioned what kind of establishment it was, which was...well, there was music that Joe could hear from across the street, and only men going in or out, and a lot of the men coming out had clearly been drinking, so...

So a gay bar, obviously. Joe shouldn't be shocked. He knew Eric was gay, after all. In fact, it was why Joe wanted to see him. And as for the bar part...well, just because Joe didn't drink didn't mean he didn't know people who did. True, none of his friends or relatives back home actually worked in a bar, but big deal. He knew Eric was a good guy.

He wasn't sure if he could go in, though. He'd never been in a gay bar before, obviously. Talk about a den of temptation!

But...well, he'd come all this way just to talk to someone who would understand. And, actually, a gay bar would probably have lots of someones who would understand. Yes, there was a tiny part of Joe's brain telling him that most of the guys inside probably weren't there to talk, exactly, but...But he was going in!