by Megan Derr
Pulling off Lucid's cock, Baxter replied, "She was a countess, not a princess."
"Get back to work," Lucid retorted, and this time used him roughly and quickly, spilling down Baxter's throat in only minutes, then dragging him up to further abuse his mouth, leaving his lips pleasantly sore and throbbing. Then he reached across the way and dragged a hard, flushed Elton into his lap, making quick and easy work of his clothes.
Despite the months they'd been together already, and that they were in their private, highly secure suite, Elton still flushed at being naked in Lucid's lap in the front room. It reminded him of the time he'd been late to a meeting because he'd stopped the lift he and Elton were on to push him up against the one-way glass and fuck him while staring down at people who would gladly kill to be able to see them.
Playing with Elton's cock, nibbling at his throat and jaw, Lucid said, "We were fifteen, in the midst of a party. We'd abandoned it in the aftermath of having someone say to our faces that we should just pick one name, since it was obvious we didn't really need two. I'm sure people had already been saying it for years, but no one had ever said it to us. Father threw them out, and we ran away to our room and wound up fucking."
Baxter gave him a look. "What a summary. I was in tears. You were searching for ways to ruin the man. We didn't even have much fun that time, we were too upset."
Lucid laughed. "Yeah, it's not a very sexy story in the end. We were lonely, and tired of no one but our father—our mother already dead by then—being able to tell us apart, of never seeing Baxter and Lucid, just the Jewels." He made a face. "They started calling us that when we were children—our parents'precious little jewels, their perfect matched set."
Despite the hand on his cock, Elton's kiss was nothing but sweet as he kissed them in turn. "I'm sorry. It sounds like you never got to be children, or anything else for that matter."
"Hard to complain too much when you're some of the wealthiest people in the IG," Lucid said, and there was nothing sweet about his kisses. He shifted Elton to straddle him, then heaved to his feet. Baxter trailed after them, in-lens shimmering as he dealt with locks, lights, and messages, all the other little things that went with ceasing to be the Lords of Bangkok for a few precious hours.
Their room was as warm and inviting as ever, a private nook where no one but the three of them ever went, save for a single trusted servant who tidied up what couldn't be automated. The room was decorated in warm blues, creams, and hints of faded gold, with a perfect three-sixty view of Bangkok that was only possible this high up, secreted away in one reaching claw of Black Dragon Tower.
Lucid settled on his knees in the middle of the enormous bed, Elton in front of him, back to Lucid's chest. He moaned as Lucid fondled and stroked, that wickedly talented mouth trailing his throat. Baxter stroked himself idly as he watched from the foot of the bed, enthralled as ever by how beautiful his lovers looked together.
Elton dragged his eyes open, stared at Baxter flushed, mussed, and utterly drunk on feverish desire. "I need you both. In—" He moaned again as Lucid's fingers worked him. "In me."
Baxter nearly came right then, and at Lucid's silent order fetched the lube from the shelf in the headboard. Crawling onto the bed, he kissed Lucid and then moved around to press up against Elton's front. Cupping Elton's head, he devoured those pretty lips until Elton was feeding him breathy moans and needy whimpers, nails digging into his skin as Elton begged for relief.
He broke away from Baxter to groan, loud and long, as Lucid filled him. Baxter knew the feeling well; there were few things in the world that equaled being fucked by Lucid. He nibbled and licked at Elton's lips until a soft touch from Lucid indicated it was his turn.
They all groaned as Baxter gently pushed into Elton's body, cock sliding right against Lucid's, the fit tight, hot, almost too much. But this, this was the best place in the world to be: in their private, secluded corner, Elton between them, filled with them. Him and Lucid together, doing only what they wanted, pleasing their pretty together, the rest of the world far away.
Elton clung tightly, head against Lucid's shoulder, eyes blown with lust whenever he opened them. Baxter fucked him with slow, deep motions, moving effortlessly in time with Lucid, kissing them both, panting heavily, lost in sensation and positively aching to come.
With a soft groan, Elton came, spilling across Baxter's skin, shuddering in their embrace.
"Now, Bax," Lucid said, and as easy as that Baxter came, spilling deep inside Elton, the world fading briefly as his climax consumed it—but he still felt it when Lucid followed him a moment later.
When the world came back to him a moment later, it was to find they'd fallen into a heap across the bed. Baxter pulled gently out, kissing Elton softly, swallowing his whimpers.
Lucid rolled out of bed and fetched cloths to clean them up, and got rid of the blanket they'd ruined, throwing it in a chute down to their private laundry room—since anything washed in even the private hotel laundry rooms stood a good chance of winding up at an illicit auction somewhere.
When they were clean, and food and drinks had arrived via a private lift meant for just that purpose, they settled in bed together to watch vids and talk—and for a few hours, be simply lovers together.
Royal Paramour
THE TOAD PRINCE
Alton slipped into the ballroom by way of his private entrance, and kept to the edge so he could have a few minutes of peace in which to observe the proceedings. His bodyguards stood nearby, old friends and comrades who'd been overjoyed he was still alive and had volunteered eagerly to resume their duties. It had been humbling, and an overwhelming relief, to know he'd been sincerely missed—mourned.
He was well aware he was arrogant to a fault, comfortable with his power and authority, and many other dubious qualities that too often came with being a sovereign ruler. If that odious bastard Grand Duke had done nothing else right, his little stunt turning Alton into a toad had taught him humility, gratitude.
And even if he had hanged the bastards as promised, he only hated them for killing his family and abusing Wesley and Trina. He would always be secretly grateful for what they'd done to him, because if they hadn't turned him into a toad, he might not have ever noticed the beautiful, earnest and sweet man who'd loved him for no good reason at all, and continued to do so despite all the ways Wesley's life would be easier, calmer, and safer without Alton in it.
Even now, as Wesley danced with Trina, his happiness buzzing through Alton's mind, people watched him. Some had come forward with offers of genuine friendship. Others, Alton had seen to it were warned off. Still others waited and watched, seeing how the new Grand Duke would adjust to his abrupt rise in power, what sort of leader he would prove to be.
A figure broke away from the crowd, smiling his familiar playful, crooked smile as he approached Alton and stood next to him, leaning casually against the wall. "So my absolute favorite rumor is that he's fucking you and Trina, and somehow neither of you is aware of it."
Alton laughed. "Stop listening to rumors, Cadwell, they're bad for you."
"They're my absolute favorite thing," Cadwell replied, grin widening.
Giving him a look, Alton replied, "Lemon creams are my absolute favorite thing, but too many of them and I'd regret my life sorely."
Cadwell scoffed. "Your absolute favorite thing is that pretty little duke in the middle of the dance floor, and I think it would be impossible for you to have too much of that."
Affection and lust curled lazily through Alton as he watched Wesley, who laughed at something Trina said before spinning her in a wide circle. His amusement and joy filtered through the bond, adding to Alton's good mood. There was no better feeling in the world than knowing Wesley was happy. "You do have a point."
"Usually," Cadwell said lightly, his smile softening. "I'm sorry I wasn't here. I should have stayed, for Trina at least."
"I'm honored you were so grief-stricken over my death you fled to the country," Alton said with a smi
le, elbowing him playfully. "Truly. I know how much you hate country life. That you would rather endure that than live here without me is truly touching."
Cadwell scoffed, looking embarrassed and pleased. "It's good to be back; I really was getting sick of tepid socials and pretending to care about shooting unsuspecting animals."
"Much has changed while I was dead, but I'm glad to see you're much the same."
"I'm much like the tide—always predictable, usually fun, occasionally annoying, and fatal to fools." He winked. "I believe it's almost time for the next dance. May I ask the fair princess?"
"I'm her cousin, not her master. If you want to ask her, then do so. I'll give you a slight edge by getting her current partner out of your way."
Snickering, Cadwell sauntered off, clearing a path for Alton to follow, making it easy to reach the middle of the dance floor.
Alton gave Wesley a bow, adoring as ever the way his freckled cheeks went pink. Through the bond, he could feel happiness, a spike of excitement, and a deep, abiding love. "May I have the next dance, Your Grace?"
"Stop calling me that," Wesley replied, taking the offered hand and going easily as Alton swept him into the dance as the music started. Worry and disbelief filled the bond, along with thoughts of not being good enough, that he might possibly harm people with his inexperience. "I still can't believe you gave me his title."
"It's your title." Alton kissed his nose before sending him into a twirl. As they came back together, he added, "He was your father, it was always yours to rightfully inherit, no matter how much of a contemptible ass he was about it. You're much better a grand duke than he could ever have dreamt of being. Now, enough of that, sweet Wes." That got him more flushing, a hint of lust mingled with exasperated fondness. Alton grinned. "I actually had something else I wanted to discuss with you, now that everything has calmed down and you seem to be fitting well into your new role."
Wesley eyed him warily. "I'm starting to get really suspicious whenever you call me 'sweet Wes' in public."
Alton laughed and kissed his nose again, then pulled him a trifle closer than was proper and murmured in his ear, "Believe me, I'd much rather be calling you that in private."
"Behave!" Wesley hissed, but there was no mistaking the look in his eyes, even without the sharp spike of desire in the bond. He was made to be loved, adored, and spoiled rotten, and it was a crime that so few had ever treated Wesley decently, let alone given him all he deserved.
"If I was capable of behaving, I'd never have been turned into a toad in the first place," Alton replied.
Wesley sighed. "I don't understand how you can joke about it."
"Better than letting the more negative effects get to me." Before Wesley could fret, he barreled on, "Stop distracting me. In fact, let's speak somewhere else." He dragged Wesley off the dance floor, ignored everyone trying to get his attention, and finally found a moment of peace and quiet on a small balcony. He yanked the curtain closed so they were slightly closed off from the ballroom.
"Now I'm really worried."
Alton dragged Wesley into his arms and kissed deeply, precisely as he'd been aching to do all day while they were both occupied with other things. It was far too easy to push Wesley up against the wide stone railing and enjoy that sweet, addictive mouth at his leisure. Wesley never did anything with less than his whole heart, and being the focus of that was enough to bring Alton to his knees in all manner of ways.
With an effort, he finally tore himself away. "Let me ask my question."
"You're the one who kissed me," Wesley said with a laugh, fingers stroking and caressing where they were still wound in Alton's thick hair.
"It's my favorite thing to do." He kissed one scarlet cheek, then drew back, reluctantly pulling Wesley's hand from his hair and holding both of them to his chest, stroking the back of them. "It seems silly to me that my royal paramour—"
"That is the most ridiculous way to call me your lover that I have ever heard."
Alton laughed. "That's what they call you. Anyway, it seems silly to me that you're still using that tiny room all the way across the palace. I was hoping you would just move into the chambers next to mine in the royal suite."
"That's for your spouse."
"We'll have that discussion when the mourning period is over," Alton said with a grin, absolutely delighted with the surprise and hope that Wesley couldn't hide. Despite all Alton's instruction, and Wesley's acumen with everything else regarding the bond, he was hopeless at blocking his feelings. It was one of the things Alton loved best about him. "For now, I would like you to live with me. You'd have a bedroom, a salon, and an office all to yourself."
"That's a very… firm step."
"I should hope. I'm quite firm about keeping you—and keeping you close. You are my bonded after all. There's also that tiny detail about being in love with you."
Wesley's eyes took on a sheen, and he ducked his head in a futile attempt to hide his tears.
Alton pulled him into a hug, kissing the top of his head. "Surely you already knew that."
"Yes and no. It's a tad overwhelming to go from loving my idea of a man I thought was dead, to loving the real thing more than I thought was possible, when that man is the king and I was—am—a nobody."
"You're everything," Alton said, and tilted his head up to kiss, mouth fitting to Wesley's like that was its sole purpose in life was to kiss this beautiful man breathless. He let his own love and adoration fill the bond, until Wesley was practically melting against him, eager and pliant.
After a few minutes, Alton drew back slowly, savoring that wickedly addictive mouth. "So will you move into the royal suite with me?"
Shy eagerness trickled through the bond. "It would be nice to be closer to you, possibly see you more often. People will talk even more than they do now, though."
"Let them. It's all envy anyway. They all wish they were me."
Wesley laughed. "I'm pretty sure they all wish they were me."
"Then they're fools," Alton said, dragging him into another kiss, this one leaving them both panting and unfit to return to the ballroom. "Would you like to see your new rooms now?"
"I'm fairly certain that question is only permitted one answer," Wesley said with a laugh. "Of course I do, as much fun as I have dancing."
Alton kissed him one last time, then led him down the stairs into the garden, where they could easily slip away back to his rooms. The bodyguards would catch up eventually, if they hadn't already predicted where he'd end up.
In Threes
THE WITCH IN THE WOODS
The king was kissing him. The king was kissing him. Him. The boring, homely witch who'd never have met the king—Thane, his name was Thane and he wanted Anson to use it—if he hadn't invited himself to a three day festival.
Anson's head spun with too many thoughts, too many emotions, all of them demanding attention but only winding up as noise in his head. Normally he quieted the racket by way of work, or doing battle with weeds and thieving rabbits.
Right then, though, he simply threw himself into the kiss, throwing one arm around Thane's neck to hold him close, the other hand braced on a marvelously-muscled arm. He had no idea how long this dream would last, but he intended to get everything out of it that he could.
Eventually, though, Thane drew back, panting against his lips for a moment before withdrawing entirely, stepping back and seeming to gather himself, eyes skimming around the room.
Anson flushed with embarrassment. Normally he didn't care what anyone thought of his little cottage. His parents had built it all on their own, living in a tent for months while building their house stone by stone. It had the main room, which was mostly taken up by his work tables, shelves, and chests, but there was also a little sitting area, a pantry, a cellar, and a bedroom. The whole place smelled of herbs and magic, and every now and then a hint of his mother's honeysuckle perfume, forever captured in the home she'd loved with all her heart and bestowed on her youngest when she
'd passed. Anson was proud of it, loved it just as much as his mother had, but next to the palace it must look hopefully shabby and dull.
"You have a beautiful home," Thane said, finally looking at him again. "I'm sure it must get lonely, living out here all on your own, but to me it looks like a nice respite." He smiled, but Anson could see the exhaustion in it, the strain—wondered if Thane was letting him see it, which just made his heart trip-trap all over again. "Even when I'm in my chambers, there are bodyguards, servants. Always people. You've no idea how hard it was to come inside by myself. I was only allowed to come at all by bringing four men with me."
"There are people outside?" Anson jerked forward. "Are they trampling in my garden? They'd better not let the horses—" He broke off at Thane's chuckles, and the warm hands that curled gently around his flailing arms, bringing them to a rest between him and Thane. "Sorry."
Thane scoffed. "No need for that. But I promise my bodyguards are civilized, and former farm boys all. They know their business when it comes to green things." He smiled faintly, a bit impishly. "I'm the only danger to your garden, since I don't know carrots from turnips until they're put on my plate, so I'm the one you need to keep under close supervision."
A laugh burst from Anson, making Thane look pleased and a touch smug. "It's a good thing you're in here with me, then, Majest—Thane."
The mischief faded, leaving only a cautious sort of happiness, hopefulness, as Thane drew him close enough they were sharing breaths again. "I like hearing you say my name." He brushed a soft kiss across Anson's mouth, and Anson would hate how easily it made him shiver except he liked it too much. He liked everything about and involving Thane too much. Him, a nobody little witch in the woods. Besotted with the king. This madness was never going to work. Leave it to him to want to go to a fancy party in the hopes of meeting somebody, only for that somebody to be the most out of reach person in the world.