by Jerry Cole
Bobby’s weight kept him from doing too much and Steve grunted in frustration, digging his heels into the mattress and shifted upward with his hips. Bobby was laughing at him, Steve could see it in his eyes, but he gave Steve what he wanted; his grip was loose around Steve’s dick, just the way he liked it, and fuck, Steve loved that Bobby knew him so well, that Bobby knew his body and what it took to drive Steve over the edge.
Bobby leaned across the bed, fumbling in the nightstand, and though Steve was momentarily distracted, he whined low in his throat when Bobby’s hand tightened its grip, keeping up a rough pace. Steve’s chest was heaving with the urge to breathe, to fight to focus on Bobby through the pleasure blunting his thoughts. “I’m gonna fuck you.”
Steve’s fingers twisted in the sheets, his balls heavy and drawing up, threatening to spill over Bobby’s hand, but Bobby abruptly pulled back, and Steve was ashamed of the wet whimper he let out.
“Easy, sweetheart.” The endearment fell so easily from Bobby’s lips and Steve’s chest constricted painfully, even as he fought through the haze and frustration of his abandoned pleasure. “I’ll get you there.”
Eyes tight shut, Steve wanted desperately to open them, to force himself to relish every moment, but it was overwhelming. Bobby didn’t try and get him to look or drag a response out of him. There was the pop of a cap and then soft, wet sounds Steve knew by heart. He sucked in a breath, waiting for Bobby’s cold touch, but it didn’t come.
“You with me, Steve?”
“Yeah,” Steve managed, cracking open one eye. “I want you.”
“I know,” Bobby said with a smile. “I want you to look at me.”
“I can’t,” Steve whined, but he did as Bobby asked, body thrumming with pleasure. He looked Bobby in the eye, and his breath caught as he saw how black Bobby’s eyes were, the hunger on his face as he slicked up his fingers. “Bobby.”
The pads of Bobby’s fingers, slick and wet, curled back around Steve’s shaft, giving it a couple of tugs before they slipped further back behind his balls, and Steve grunted at the cold, the shiver running down his spine. It warmed quickly, the tremble of his thighs obvious as Bobby smoothed the skin behind Steve’s left knee with his free hand, rubbing gently at Bobby’s perineum. Steve shifted, tried to get the touch lower, back where he desperately wanted it, but Bobby was being stubborn, his lips curved into a smile.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Bobby slicked up his fingers again, shifting Steve’s leg to his shoulder. Steve shuffled lower on the sheets, giving Bobby better access, and Bobby took full advantage, hand slipping between Steve’s cheeks, his finger pushing inside the tight heat. Steve whimpered, his body quivering beneath Bobby’s body as he bore down.
“Bobby,” Steve groaned. “Come on, fuck me, Bobby.”
Bobby didn’t say anything, just added a second finger, the pressure almost overwhelming given the length of time it had been. Bobby rubbed a soothing hand over Steve’s cheek, down his neck and still-clothed chest, as if he could sense where Steve’s thoughts were going.
Bobby’s breaths were coming in harsh pants, and his fingers stretched against tight muscle, enough that Steve was desperate to have Bobby go deeper, fuck him with fingers and then his dick, and for a moment it seemed as if Bobby might share that want; he thrust deeper, fingers rubbing gently against the small bundle of nerves that had Steve jerking like a livewire, grunting out something that might have been Bobby’s name.
“I love you,” Bobby groaned into Steve’s ear, and Steve reached out for him, gripping Bobby’s arms tightly, threading a hand in Bobby’s hair and holding him in place so that he could kiss him hard. Bobby groaned into his mouth, and Steve broke away when Bobby’s fingers refused to let up against his prostate, aftershocks rocking Steve’s body.
“Stop teasing,” Steve ground out.
“All right,” Bobby said, and there was a definite laugh in his voice. Rocking back on his heels, Bobby looked expectantly at Steve. Though feeling as if his body was on fire, Steve managed to get his hands to cooperate, and he reached for Bobby’s pants, undoing the button and shoving them and his briefs down his hips. Bobby lifted himself free, and Steve couldn’t help but grip his cock, stroke a couple of times as he watched Bobby’s dick bob free, thick and straining against his stomach. He was longer than he was thicker, but Steve’s mouth still watered when he thought about how good it would feel when Bobby fucked him.
Slicking up his dick, Bobby slid on a condom he had by the bed and shuffled between Steve’s legs, shoving a pillow beneath his hips. Steve was grateful for the position, wanting to look Bobby in the eyes. He swallowed thickly as the fat head of Bobby’s dick pressed against his hole, Bobby’s free hand soothing the inside of Steve’s thigh as he pressed in. It felt instantly like too much, as if Steve was going to fall apart, but Bobby’s grip tightened on his thigh, his hips working as he rocked into Steve, inch by inch. Steve closed his eyes, breathing slowly through his mouth, forcing his body to relax and accommodate Bobby.
“It’s been so long,” Bobby said, his voice sounding strained.
“I missed you,” Steve said, horrified his voice broke on the last word.
“Hey,” Bobby said, bottoming out, leaning over Steve’s torso. He brushed a hand against Steve’s cheek until Steve opened his eyes, staring into eyes that knew him so well. “We’re together now.”
That thought made Steve’s heart skip, and he couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off his face. Bobby chose that moment to shift, and Steve sank back into the bed, eyes closed as Bobby set the rhythm, short, sharp thrusts that had Steve groaning and gasping his name.
Steve’s whole body felt as if it was on fire, every movement from Bobby, every touch of his body on Steve’s sent bursts of pleasure along Steve’s spine, and he found himself bearing down against Bobby, his fingers sliding up Bobby’s arms to tangle in his hair. Bobby’s eyes were wide and dark, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, and Steve tugged him down for a hard kiss, tongue thrusting against Bobby’s in a mimicry of the Bobby’s thrusts.
It was a crescendo; Steve could feel his orgasm building, a thrumming under his skin that didn’t let up. Bobby was snapping his hips so hard Steve could feel himself shifting up the bed and a noise more like a whimper and whine than a growl left his throat—a noise he would deny later—but it just seemed to spur Bobby on, his hands tight on Steve’s hips.
“Fuck, fuck,” Steve groaned, his balls tight, and Bobby moved, wrapping a hand around Steve’s dick as he angled his thrust to drag against Steve’s prostate. At Steve’s yell, Bobby kept up the same pace, the same thrusts, and Steve arched on the bed, heels digging into the mattress and head denting the pillow as he spilled over Bobby’s hand and his own stomach.
Bobby followed him over the edge, his fingers digging into Steve’s hips hard enough to bruise, but Steve didn’t care. He was still shuddering through the aftershocks of his own orgasm, and when Bobby pulled out, he whimpered at the oversensitivity. Bobby pressed a kiss to his thigh, rolling off the bed. He padded into the bathroom, and Steve shoved at the pillow, the burn in his back a painful but wanted reminder of having Bobby fuck him after so long.
Using a washcloth to clean them both off, Bobby tossed it in the direction of the bathroom and climbed back onto the bed, moving Steve’s pliant body until they were both under the covers, Steve’s head pillowed on Bobby’s chest.
“I’m glad I’m here,” Steve said, exhausted but sated.
“I love you,” Bobby said in reply, arms tight around Steve.
Steve was exactly where he needed to be.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bobby was nestled against Steve’s shoulder.
It was a comfort Steve hadn’t been sure he would get again, so he was grateful for any moment he had with Bobby. They had been sharing the same bedroom for the last couple of days; they had been busy days, with Jackie flying in from New York, their friends negotiating with their professors for some time away, and Sam actually ar
riving in Mercia and losing his shit at the palace, Bobby, Steve’s new life, and everything else.
Steve had yet to run into the prince.
Bobby waved it off with explanations about functions and duties, and if he was deliberately keeping Steve off Louis’ radar, Steve couldn’t bring himself to mind it. It gave him time to acclimatize to his new future.
Telling his mother had been hard, but from the moment she stepped off of the helicopter, face drained of color, and cussing out a storm in front of Bobby and their friends, Jackie had been accepting and almost overwhelming with her pride and persuasion.
“I want you to be happy,” she said, the night she was due to return to New York. “I’m sorry I never got to meet Bobby’s father,” and there was a flicker of excitement which Steve put down to meeting the grand prince, “and I hope he treats you right when you do meet.”
“So do I,” Steve muttered.
His mother kissed his forehead, pressing another to Bobby’s cheek, and then stood back, as if to survey them as a pair. “I hope to see you at mine for Thanksgiving, Bobby.”
Bobby smirked, and Steve didn’t think that was going to happen—how could they leave the palace?—but Bobby nodded. “I promise.”
Steve wanted to call Bobby on making false promises afterward, but Bobby put his fears to rest. He assured Steve that even if he had to take a whole contingent of bodyguards, he would be attending Thanksgiving with Jackie and Steve. Steve hadn’t known what to say in response, so he settled for curling a hand around Bobby’s neck and dragging him in for a kiss.
That had been a couple of days ago, and Steve was still being surprised by his boyfriend. Bobby had a list of duties he was supposed to attend to, and he had been putting off in favor of staying with Steve, but Steve was eager to see him in a professional capacity. Or as much as he could anyway.
Neither of them discussed the idea of showing their relationship off to anybody, and though Steve was getting over his royalty issues, he wasn’t ready to throw himself into the public eye.
Bobby grunted, breaking Steve from his reverie, and shifted, burrowing his face into the curve of Steve’s shoulder. Steve grinned, kissing Bobby’s temple and reaching out with the hand not currently numb from being leaned on to grab his phone from the dresser. Bobby didn’t stir, which Steve was grateful for—he could do with the sleep. His phone had a couple of messages from their friends, probably talking about the fact they could spend the summer at the palace. He also had some emails and was pleased to see they were from his professors.
Reading them quickly, his lips quirked up into a grin, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. It wouldn’t all be easy, but it was enough that he couldn’t wait to tell Bobby about it when he finally woke up. Once read, he dropped the phone onto the bed next to him, and rolled slightly, freeing his arm, shifting so Bobby was splayed out on his back. Steve grinned, kissing at Bobby’s neck and Bobby finally groaned, moving beneath Steve, one hand coming up to the back of Steve’s head.
“What a way to wake up,” Bobby said, tone gravelly.
Steve leaned in, disregarding the state of both of them in the morning, and drew Bobby into a deep kiss. “I’ll just have to make this a regular thing then, won’t I?”
Bobby’s lips quirked up into a smile. “I’m not going to be sad about that.”
“Good.” Steve brushed strands of hair out of Bobby’s eyes. “Got something I need to talk to you about.”
Bobby raised his eyebrows, waiting, but before Steve could get the words out, there was a knock on the door. “Who is it?”
“Bobby,” Helena snapped quickly. “Your father’s home, and he’s demanding to see you.”
“Fuck,” Bobby said emphatically. “Where is he?”
“Coming.”
Bobby’s eyes widened and shoved at Steve’s shoulder. Steve tried not to be offended; he wasn’t interested in trying to explain to the grand prince why he and Bobby were sharing a bed, but it still stung. Bobby headed into the bathroom, but he poked his head out. “You coming?”
“Not sure that’s a great idea,” Steve said sadly.
Hands tightening into fists, Bobby cursed. “I fucking hate this. Maybe we should just make out in front of him.”
Steve snorted. “That’ll go down well.”
“Tell him I’ll meet him at breakfast!” Bobby yelled.
There was a pause. “I think Gregory is doing his best to run interference, but if you’re not downstairs soon, I don’t think Gregory is gonna be able to stop him looking for you.”
It wouldn’t take that long for the two of them to dress and make it downstairs. Steve shoved at Bobby to get him moving and dug through the dresser for some clean clothes. His mother had brought some more of his things, but most of Steve’s possessions were still back in New York. He wondered whether he should bother bringing the rest and knew it would depend on the outcome with Louis.
Steve ducked into the bathroom right after Bobby, and he could hear the door to the bedroom closing. He hoped Bobby didn’t run into his father and couldn’t help the surge of protectiveness that came over him. It wasn’t an alien feeling, but the intensity of it was surprising. Bobby was an adult and could more than take care of himself, but now that they were back together, Steve wanted to make sure nothing could hurt Bobby.
Tugging on his sweater, Steve shoved his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, knowing Gregory would be exasperated with the fact he refused to acknowledge the standards of dress associated with Royals. Steve had no interest in conforming to their standards unless it was something Bobby specifically asked of him.
In the hall outside his bedroom, Jamie and Sam were leaning against the wall. Jamie straightened immediately. “Bobby’s facing down his father in the study.”
“Fuck,” Steve muttered. “How’d he look?”
“No idea,” Sam said, shrugging. “I didn’t see him.”
Jamie snorted. “Not sure he wants to associate with Bobby’s commoner friends.”
It was a term both Gregory and Daisy had informed him Louis had been heard speaking and Steve didn’t doubt it. It was offensive and even if Steve was angry at Louis, he wasn’t looking forward to being face to face with him. “I should probably go and rescue him.”
“Is that going to be a good idea?”
Steve wasn’t sure, but he also wasn’t about to sit back and let Bobby face down his father alone after telling him he would never have to do that again. “I have to do something.”
Jamie and Sam exchanged a look, but Steve was already moving down the stairs. Helena and Noah were in the lobby, arms folding, and glaring in the direction of the study. Steve knew they had both met Louis before, but he wasn’t interested in their anger.
Gregory was hovering outside the door, hands on his hips, but Steve ignored him, knocking on the door of the study. There was arguing from inside, and Steve didn’t think they could hear him. “Can I go in?”
“It wouldn’t be wise,” Gregory said, though he gave the door a dark look.
“Fine.” Steve knocked again, louder, and there was a sharp reply from inside.
“Gregory, I told you we were not to be disturbed!”
“It’s not Gregory,” Steve said sharply.
It didn’t take long for the door to be wrenched open and Grand Prince Louis stood on the other side. He was slightly shorter than Steve up close, and whereas he had been carefully put together, at that moment, his frustration was obvious, eyes drawn into a frown, sneer in place, and his hands clenched into fists. Louis raised his eyebrows. “Who are you?”
“Steve Mitchell,” Steve said, chin tilting up.
“Ah, so this is the boyfriend,” Louis said with a dangerous edge.
“Father,” Bobby said. His jaw was clenched, and he gave Steve a quick, panicked gaze. “We’re not boyfriends.”
Louis didn’t turn around, eyes on Steve. “Do you say the same thing?”
Steve didn’t say anything, jaw tight, and he growled und
er his breath when Louis crossed to his desk, picking up a couple of pieces of paper off the desk, and waving them in Steve’s direction. “So, these are just lying, are they?”
They were pictures, Steve realized, as Louis shoved them across the desk. Steve moved to pick one up, eyes wide as he realized they were from their trip in New York. “You’ve had someone following Bobby all that time?” Steve turned back to stare to Gregory, who held up his hands. “You didn’t find Bobby until I printed the photos in the brochure.”
Louis laughed, nasty and abrupt. “Do you honestly believe I wouldn’t have someone following Bobby since the very beginning? Maria ran, but I knew exactly where she was going.”
Steve felt sick. He and Bobby looked so happy in the pictures, and Louis had never let Bobby go. He had always wanted Bobby as his heir, even before his terminal illness, and from the hopeless expression on Bobby’s face, he knew it too. “You’re sick.”
“That’s treason,” Louis said with a twisted smile.
“You’d have to have witnesses.” Steve said, with more confidence than he felt. Though he was partially sure he could count on his friends, he wasn’t sure about Gregory.
Louis came back around the desk, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m the grand prince. Did you really think you stood a chance of this thing continuing under my nose?”
Bobby stared at Steve for a long time, and then turned to his father, spine straightening to look as confident as he could. “Yes.”
“If you think you’re going to be grand prince after this,” Louis said, and Steve could see in him the man Maria had been so afraid of, the man that Bobby was afraid of. “You are so very wrong.”
“There are protocols,” Steve said, because he had been speaking with Gregory and Helena, wanting to protect Bobby. “You can’t just decide someone you’ve officially declared as heir not to be. It doesn’t work like that.”