The Contingency Plan

by Addison Albright

  The modest ceremony was almost complete. Only one action remained to fulfill the requirements.

  Prince Efren ran a finger along Marcelo’s jaw and tipped up his chin. Marcelo held his breath as Prince Efren lowered his head. A small sound escaped him as the prince’s warm breath wafted over his lips right before their mouths came together for a light, brief kiss.

  Marcelo’s knees wobbled, but the prince’s other hand at his waist held him in place. With that one mild kiss, the curb on Marcelo’s anticipation slipped away, replaced by unlimited eagerness. Whatever pain might or might not be involved in the act would be worth enduring to be held in this man’s arms and thoroughly kissed.

  With that, the ceremony ended. They were officially married. People milled about congratulating them before filtering into the castle’s great hall for the celebration dinner.

  Minstrels played zinks, flutes, crumhorns, and lutes. The music was lively, and the food plentiful—course after course of it. Greens, warm breads, soups, and venison, all washed down with the best wines Sheburat had to offer.

  Prince Efren—his husband—fascinated him with stories and descriptions of the lands of Zioneven. “Each summer during my formative years,” he explained, “Father journeyed with me to all corners of our kingdom. The majestic mountains in the northeast, the thick green forests in the northwest, lush rolling hills and charming meadows throughout the central and southern regions dotted with rich farmlands.”

  “It sounds beautiful,” Marcelo said.

  “It is. On each and every excursion, Father always made sure I knew to stop and talk, and most importantly, listen to what our people had to say. Hear their concerns and their suggestions. It’s the only way to effectively serve them.”

  Marcelo blinked at Efren’s choice of word. Serve them, not rule them. It was no small wonder Erich had liked the idea of emigrating.

  “I look forward to seeing it,” Marcelo said. “And to meeting your wise father.”

  “And I look forward to being your guide,” Prince Efren replied with a smile.

  * * * *

  When darkness fell, Erich appeared at Marcelo’s side. Prince Efren’s dark eyes smoldered as Marcelo stood to leave. Marcelo grinned before shyly turning to follow his servant upstairs.

  Erich led him not to his own set of rooms, but to the suite that had been given to Prince Efren. The heavy draperies were closed, and a blaze burned in the fireplace. The bed had already been turned down.

  First, Erich scooped a small amount of tooth-cleaning paste onto a bit of linen and handed it to Marcelo. Marcelo rubbed it over all the surfaces of his teeth, then spit into a cup Erich held out. He then rinsed with water from another cup and spit again.

  Erich put away the tooth-cleaning implements and removed the tie from Marcelo’s hair. Then Marcelo lifted his arms so Erich could remove the tunic. He folded it carefully and placed it over the back of a chair, then knelt to help Marcelo out of his footwear and short hose.

  As Erich took care of those items, Marcelo undid the fastenings on his trousers and let them, and his loose linen braies, drop to the stone floor. He stepped away, and Erich knelt to retrieve them.

  Nodding toward the screen on the other side of the room, Erich said, “You’ll find the chamber pots over there, sir.”

  He obeyed Erich’s implicit instruction. When he emerged, Erich waited for him next to the bed, a small vial in one hand, and a pipette dropper in the other. Marcelo swallowed around the lump in his throat and approached the bed.

  “Sir, I’ll need you to bend across the mattress with your legs spread about two feet’s length apart.”

  Marcelo’s face heated. As used as he was to receiving intimate care from his personal servant, this act eclipsed all others in degree. But clearly Erich had received some instruction, and this was necessary to ensure a successful consummation of his marriage.

  So, he took a shaky breath and did as he was told. He strove to remain relaxed as glass clinked behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut and blew out the breath he’d been holding when one of Erich’s hands spread his cheeks, and the pipette slipped into him to deliver the oil where it would be needed.

  “All done, sir.” Erich busied himself placing the closed vial on the small bedside table next to a stack of folded cleaning cloths, then stepped back. “May I be of any further assistance?”

  “No. Thank you, Erich. That will be all.”

  Erich bowed out of the room, and Marcelo nervously shook out his hands as he stared at the bed. His husband would soon join him.

  “Please let it be worth enduring that indignity,” he muttered. He closed his eyes and tingled afresh at the thought of the fleeting kiss that had concluded the wedding ceremony.

  His lips formed into a smile, and the tension drained from his body. Yes, he wanted this. He wanted to be held in Prince Efren’s arms, and to be kissed again. He slipped under the covers and clasped his hands behind his head.

  He didn’t have to wait long before Prince Efren and his personal servant, Dru, entered the bedchamber. The prince shot a wide grin in his direction, but remained silent.

  Dru moved quickly, assisting Prince Efren through his tooth-cleaning process, then stripping the clothes from his master. When Prince Efren stepped behind the screen, Dru put away the implements and garments.

  Marcelo’s breath caught when Prince Efren stepped out, standing tall and proud. His clothing had concealed his muscles, and the sight was glorious from his well-defined chest and bulging biceps, down his taut belly, past his splendidly rigid manhood, to his strong thighs. Marcelo’s eyes were drawn to the dark matted hair on his chest that tapered to a thin line leading toward—

  “Will that be all, sir?”

  “Yes, thank you, Dru.” Prince Efren kept his eyes on Marcelo as he approached the bed. The door snicked open and shut as Dru left them.

  When he arrived at the bedside, Prince Efren reached for him. Marcelo flipped back the covers and stood, taking the offered hand. His own body was lean and toned, but nothing like that of the crown prince. He had no body hair outside of his armpits and pubic area. He didn’t even need to shave his face. But the dark intensity of the man’s eyes as he raked them up and down Marcelo’s body told Marcelo he liked what he saw.

  Marcelo’s arousal made it obvious he was likewise pleased. He stopped himself with his free hand hovering close to Prince Efren’s chest. He’d unthinkingly reached out to touch the man without permission to do so.

  “Prince Efren, my apologies,” he whispered, dropping his hand.

  “Just Efren. No need for titles. At least not when we’re alone in our bedchamber.” Marcelo’s lips parted when Efren ran a finger along his jaw. “And no need to restrain yourself from touching. Your touch will always be most welcomed.”

  Marcelo didn’t need to be given that direction twice. He placed his hand over Efren’s heart as the man’s mouth came down on his.

  Efren moaned into the kiss. He pulled their bodies together. Grabbing at Efren’s shoulder, it was all Marcelo could do to keep himself from collapsing from the sensation overload.

  Last night, when he’d dreamed of coming together with Efren, his imagination had fallen far short of this reality. The hairs on Efren’s chest rasped over his sensitive nipples and brushed along the length of his body, sending quivers of delight racing across his skin.

  Breathing heavily, Efren lifted his head and steered Marcelo toward the bed with a gentle push. Marcelo climbed on and scooted over. He lay back when Efren moved over him.

  Marcelo wound his arms around Efren’s waist and clutched his husband’s back as the weight of that magnificent body pressed against his…ground against his. He pushed upward, his legs separating as he bent his knees to gain traction.

  This time when Efren kissed Marcelo, his tongue slipped in. Marcelo moaned and instinctively did the same. He pulled Efren closer, while at the same time, pushing his body against him, wildly trying to gain maximum contact.

  When Marc
elo’s breathing sped up to a pant, Efren pulled back and reached for the vial next to the bed. More oil was needed?

  Efren stared at him with a passionate intensity as he slicked the oil over his own manhood as well as Marcelo’s. Marcelo gasped at the warm, firm, slippery slide of Efren’s hand. Ah, yes, he could see the advantage to an external application of the oil to supplement the internal one.

  Marcelo trembled when Efren hiked back his legs. He fisted the sheets in anticipation of the coming penetration. His heart pounded, and he bit his lip to prevent an entirely undignified giggle from escaping his lips. He wanted nothing more than to be owned, body and soul, by this man.

  Efren nibbled at Marcelo’s neck, then whispered, “My darling, please accept my advanced apologies as I might cause you some initial pain.” He kissed Marcelo again on the lips. “You’ll need to bear down to let me in.”

  Marcelo did so and gasped when Efren pushed slowly but steadily against his entrance, scrutinizing Marcelo’s face as he went. Efren paused when Marcelo winced at the slight burn, then pushed again when it ebbed, apparently reading his face correctly.

  When Efren was fully seated, Marcelo felt so incredibly full. He gaped at Efren with wide eyes and smiled. A sense of peace warmed him throughout. His worries had been so utterly misguided.

  “All is well, my darling?”

  “Entirely.”

  Efren huffed a laugh and kissed him.

  When Efren began to move, Marcelo’s body soared with an energy he’d never before imagined possible. Nothing existed outside this moment. Nothing else mattered.

  Efren drove into him, changing tempo and angles with regularity, driving Marcelo wild. Marcelo moved his hands to Efren’s biceps, reveling in the play of muscles as they flexed, then to his hips, and around his back to grip his shoulders as if holding on for dear life.

  He arched upward desperately and returned Efren’s kiss with a fervent frenzy as blood raced through his body at a feverish pace. He never wanted this to end, yet sensed the finale fast approaching. He fought it and strove toward it with equal measures.

  Perhaps Efren recognized the reason behind his frenetic actions and had better control, but his movements turned frantic, mirroring Marcelo’s, barreling them toward a shared climax.

  Marcelo threw back his head and groaned as he shot his release into the sweaty press between their bodies, then Efren stiffened and shoved into him three more times before he pressed in and shuddered to a halt.

  They remained in place, trembling, as they caught their breath. The giggle Marcelo had fought to suppress earlier pushed past his usual reserve.

  Efren grinned and murmured, “What is it, my darling?”

  My darling. That was the third time Efren had called him that. No doubt Marcelo’s smile looked as silly and loopy as the unrestrained giggle had been, but he was beyond caring.

  “Life is so strange. Two days ago, I was perfectly content knowing I would remain forever unmarried and celibate. Now…I would be utterly desolate if I were to lose you.”

  * * * *

  Marcelo awoke to the muffled thuds of the fireplace being stirred and fresh logs being added. He opened his eyes and stretched languidly in Efren’s arms. He lay with his head nestled in the crook of his husband’s shoulder, his hand resting over Efren’s steadily beating heart.

  Dru was the culprit stoking the fireplace, while Erich lit candles from the coals and placed them around the still-dark room. The draperies remained closed because it was clearly still dark behind them. Erich glanced their way, and his smile seemed contented and perhaps a little relieved.

  They would get an early start in their travels today. It would take more than a week to reach Efren’s castle in Zioneven.

  Efren rubbed Marcelo’s back. A slow trail of fingers up to his shoulders, then down to his waist. Over and over. It mesmerized him.

  Marcelo sifted his fingers through the short, stiff, and altogether fascinating hairs on Efren’s chest. After all, the man had said, “Your touch will always be most welcomed,” just last night. The slow grin spreading across Efren’s lips confirmed he’d meant those words.

  “Are you ready to begin your new life?” Efren asked.

  Marcelo kissed the warm skin beneath where his face rested. “More than I ever thought possible.”

  ABOUT ADDISON ALBRIGHT

  Addison Albright is a writer living in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay (sometimes erotic) romance in contemporary settings. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, french fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.

  For more information, visit authoraddisonalbright.com.

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