Kings and Butterflies

by Lina Langley

  Simon grabbed Dallas’ cock again, bringing him slightly forward, opening his mouth once more to allow him into it. He swirled his tongue around the head of Dallas’ cock, electricity surging through Dallas’ body as he felt his orgasm build. Simon squeezed his balls ever so slightly and Dallas watched as he covered his beautiful face with his seed, his eyes closed, his mouth open. Dallas wanted to collapse into his arms right then and there but Simon stood up, making sure that he was steady on the rickety bridge by putting his hands on Dallas’ waist. He was a little taller than Dallas, so Dallas looked up at his face, which was still covered with his come.

  “Dallas.”

  Dallas nodded. He inched his face closer to Simon’s and licked him clean, the taste of his own come sticky and salty on his tongue, stopping to sloppily kiss Simon a few times. He licked his face thoroughly, laboriously, until Simon’s face was entirely free of come.

  “Swallow.”

  Dallas nodded, his cheeks red. If he hadn’t just come, he was sure it would have happened again right then and there. He swallowed and gasped.

  “That was amazing,” Dallas said, his voice a whisper.

  Simon kissed the tip of his nose and smiled at him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “My clothes?”

  “Your manners.”

  Dallas swallowed once again, his throat dry. He closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Simon replied. “Now get dressed. We don’t have all day.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Yeah, those are my ancestors,” Simon said as Dallas looked around the room. They were in a huge dining room with tall walls, which were covered by paintings of people wearing elaborate clothes and looking very bored. Dallas could kind of see the resemblance with some of them, but Simon had never looked bored to him.

  “Your ancestors liked cats,” Dallas said. More than a few of the portraits had cats in them, some sitting on their laps, some at their feet. A few were outside and cats were running around in the back, on the grass.

  “Yeah, we have about six, I think.”

  “You have six cats?”

  “They’re outside cats and we have the room,” Simon replied. “I mean, most of them are fed in the kitchen every day and they help take care of pests outside in the garden.”

  “How many animals do you have?”

  “Like as a family? I don’t know,” Simon said. “We keep thorough records but I can’t tell you the number off the top of my head.”

  Dallas blinked.

  Simon laughed. “It’s less impressive than you think. We have a lot of properties and people present us with animals every now and then when we go on official royal visits.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Like the States gave Father a turkey.”

  Dallas smirked. “Of course.”

  “Hey, turkeys are majestic animals.”

  “They’re majestic tasty animals.”

  Simon leaned against the wall—the one bit of ornate wall that didn’t seem to have a painting on it—and smiled back at him, though he didn’t say anything to that. Dallas continued walking around the room, stopping to look at the particularly interesting paintings, but the whole thing seemed weird and claustrophobic to him.

  “So you just…”

  “What?”

  “Eat here?”

  Simon shook his head. “Very rarely. We eat here when we have special guests or when there’s an important official function, one that has to be photographed.”

  Dallas raised his eyebrows.

  “During the summer, we eat in the garden,” Simon said. “On colder months, we eat in the less formal dining room. That’s, of course, if we’re all home, which doesn’t happen very often at all anymore. Most of the time we just eat in our rooms or in the living room or something. Some of these rooms are specifically for photo ops and some are for living in.”

  Dallas nodded. “That makes sense,” he said as he looked around. “Are we eating here today? Because…”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know if I can eat with all these people looking right at me.”

  Simon chuckled. “I get that. Don’t worry, we’re eating outside, weather permitting.”

  “Who am I meeting today?”

  “My parents are both stopping here for the week,” Simon said. “My brothers might stop by later on during the week, but only Tom will be here today. He’s bringing his girlfriend, so that should be fun.”

  Dallas swallowed. He didn’t want to admit it in front of Simon, but he was terrified of meeting his family. This still seemed extremely surreal to him, being here, with Simon. There were a lot of people that lived with Simon that Simon seemed to like and respect a lot, but they were all palace staff and they all treated Dallas as if he was royalty.

  Dallas wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He had always been in the service industry and he knew that he had more in common with them than he’d ever have with Simon. But Simon was magnetic—it didn’t matter how many times he had told himself that Simon was out of his reach, that he was a prince, that they could never be together.

  Every time that Simon smiled at him, it was as if he forgot everything that made it impossible for them to be together. Not to mention every time that he kissed him. Everything about being with Simon made Dallas weak at the knees and just the idea of having sex with him again made him a little queasy. In a good way, mostly. That’s what he thought, anyway, but he wasn’t entirely sure. Everything about Simon was confusing. Now he would have to meet his family and he didn’t think that he was going to make a particularly good impression. Maybe that would be the final nail in the coffin of any potential relationship.

  He knew that he was overthinking it.

  It was just a holiday. Just a holiday.

  He smiled at Simon, but it was shaky.

  “Hey,” Simon said, crossing the room and holding his hands. His hands were always soft and warm. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m just a little nervous.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s like meeting the parents, but on steroids.”

  Simon held back a chuckle and Dallas stared at him through narrow eyes.

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know, and I don’t know if I’m allowed to find this adorable, but it is.”

  “Adorable,” Dallas repeated.

  “Yes, it is. My parents will like you, Dallas. Just be yourself.”

  “Ah, stop it, you’re making me even more nervous.”

  “You’re going to be fine,” Simon replied. “You’re going to be great. But before dinner, I have another surprise for you. That might take your mind off it.”

  Dallas sighed. “Oh?”

  Simon let go of his hands. “C’mon,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

  Dallas walked with him down a few flights of stairs—they had been there for days and Dallas still marveled at the size of the palace—finally getting to a wooden door with a glass pane on it.

  “Ready?”

  Dallas nodded. Simon got that smile on his face, the one that made his eyes shine, as he pushed the door open. Dallas walked in behind him, looking around the room, expecting something elaborate and old-timey once more.

  What he got was so much better. It was a kitchen, probably the size of the dining room at the inn, with all the latest equipment, a large metal workbench in the middle that fit at least eight people, pots and pans and containers elegantly stacked up on top of each other on the silver shelves. Everything was clean, sparkling and modern. The walls were white tile, the floor black and grey tile, and the backwall was lined with black and grey industrial ovens.

  Simon was holding his hand, nudging him, and Dallas suddenly remembered where he was.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I would say that this is the most impressed you’ve been since since got here.”

  Dallas felt his cheeks redden. “It’s up there.”

  “Should I be offended?
”

  “I like food.”

  “Of course you do,” Simon replied. “Our chef should be arriving in a minute. I didn’t want to interrupt him while he was cooking.”

  “That’s considerate.”

  “He would freak out if I did,” Simon said. “He’s temperamental.”

  Dallas laughed.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s just funny that you’re the prince and you’re the one walking on eggshells.”

  “I grew up with him, I’m only appropriately terrified,” Simon said with a smile. “But I take your point. Mr. Castell is a genius, he’s been here since I was tiny. Don’t tell him I said this, but you’re probably a better cook than he.”

  “You can’t be that scared of him if you just told me that.”

  “I swore you to secrecy, though,” Simon replied. “And his English is not that good.”

  “You didn’t swear me to secrecy.”

  “Part of the deal when you date a royal.”

  “Oh?”

  “I mean, I’ll make you sign an NDA later, too. Don’t want you to tarnish my reputation in bed.”

  “Jesus, is that you when you’re bad?”

  Simon winked at him. “You bring out this weird side of me.”

  “That’s not what you’re like with everyone?”

  “Not really,” Simon replied. “You’re just… you’re so beautiful when you’re frustrated.”

  “I should smack you.”

  “You should. Are you going to?”

  Dallas rolled his eyes. “Maybe when I finally get to fuck you.”

  Simon cocked his head. “I like it when you’re bold.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah,” Simon replied. He was slightly taller than Dallas and breathing right into his ear, which was getting Dallas going all over again. “Except when you forget to say please and thank you.”

  Dallas took in a sharp breath. “Do I get to fuck you, please?”

  “If you’re good,” Simon said, planting a kiss on the nape of his neck, one sweet soft kiss that sent a shiver of electricity down his spine. He wrapped his hand around Dallas’ waist, yanking him close to him, so close that Dallas could feel his erection pressing up against his ass.

  Dallas moaned quietly as Simon kissed him again. Simon let go of him the second that they heard someone approaching the kitchen.

  “Mr. Castell,” Simon said, turning to the man in the white apron. “This is Dallas Strong.”

  “Oh yes,” Mr. Castell said. “You’re the… the one with the brunch, yes?”

  “Yes,” Dallas replied with a smile.

  “Your food must be quite something, Mr. Strong.”

  Dallas bit his lower lip. “Call me Dallas, please.”

  Mr. Castell looked at Simon, looking horrified, and Simon nodded slightly, just once. Mr. Castell turned to look back at Dallas.

  “Okay, Mr. Dallas. Mr. Simon has asked me to make your brunch menu, but I’m afraid I’ve fallen short.”

  “He’s been amazing,” Simon interjected. “He’s just being modest.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” Dallas said. “But I can show you some tips, if you want? I’m sure you’re great at technique but a lot of them are my own trial and error recipes, so…”

  “That sounds…” He looked at Simon again, who nodded once more. “Acceptable.”

  “I’ll get my page to arrange it,” Simon said.

  “Thank you, Mr. Simon. I’m making chocolate soufflé tonight.”

  “Yes, great,” Simon replied. “Thank you, Mr. Castell. We’ll get out of your way now.”

  “Yes, Mr. Simon.”

  Dallas let Simon guide him to the door, pulling on his hand as he did so.

  “Mr. Simon?”

  “That’s what he’s called me ever since I was a little boy,” Simon said, looking back at him.

  “That’s super adorable.”

  “Shut up.”

  “You’re so cute when you blush.”

  “You’re going to pay for that later.”

  “Are you going to choke me?”

  “Not if you keep pushing this.”

  “Fine. I’ll stop talking about how adorable you are.”

  “Please do.”

  “But I’ll still think it.”

  “I’ll learn to live with that,” Simon leaned down, tilting his head up and kissing him softly on the lips. “You’re gorgeous.”

  Dallas sighed. “Simon, what if they don’t like me?”

  “Then I’ll get official confirmation that they’re idiots. They’ll love you if they know what’s good for them.”

  “That’s… sweet.”

  “Thanks,” Simon replied. “Come on. Let’s go get ready.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dallas hadn’t expected the weather to be as nice as it was, but it was mild and sunny outside, and the long white plastic dining table seemed much cozier to him than the formal dining room. There were four people sitting there already—normal people, they didn’t look like they were royals or anything. Two couples, one in their late fifties, one in their early thirties, were talking to each other, laughing as they drank from tall champagne flutes.

  Dallas lagged behind as Simon walked ahead of him. Simon turned around and smiled. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m terrified.”

  “You’ll be fine, Dallas,” Simon said.

  “I already can’t even talk.”

  “You’re cute. I’m sure they’ll just love looking at you.”

  “Why am I not reassured?”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not—do I have to ask for your hand or something?”

  Simon laughed. “Do you want to?”

  Dallas shook his head. “It’s not—it’s not that I don’t want to.”

  “I was joking. If you want to ask anyone for my hand, ask me.”

  “Okay.”

  “C’mon now,” Simon said. His cheeks were tinted with red and Dallas felt his heart skip a beat when he looked at him. “Meet my parents.”

  “Simon.”

  “I promise that you’ll be fine.”

  “Okay,” Dallas said. He took a deep breath as they approached the dining room.

  “Hello!” Simon said, standing in front of Dallas. “Dad, Mom, Tom. Sarah, so lovely to see you.”

  “And you,” the woman next to Tom replied with an accent that Dallas couldn’t quite place.

  “This is Dallas Strong, my…” Simon looked at him. “My boyfriend.”

  Dallas could feel all their eyes on him. “Hi,” he said, waving. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Hello, Dallas, is it?” The older man—the king—said. Dallas watched him, unable to speak.

  Simon nudged him.

  “Yes,” he said. “Dallas, uh, that’s my name, your, uh, your majesty.”

  The king smiled. “Philip, please. This is my wife, Fernanda.”

  The queen stretched her hand. “Call me Fer, please. This is our son, Thomas, and his wife, Sarah.”

  “Nice to meet you, uh, your ro—”

  “No,” Simon said, pulling up a chair for him. “Don’t even try to do that.”

  They all laughed, Dallas’ face red. He sat down and looked at all the food on the table. There was too much food, there was always too much food. “This looks delicious.”

  “Dig in,” Fer said. She was beautiful, Dallas could see that was where Simon got most of his looks from. She had high cheekbones and big brown eyes, along with a perfectly manicured shoulder-length wavy blonde bob. “So you’re the owner of the inn Simon was staying at?”

  “Yes,” Dallas replied. “Though if I had known who he was, I would have made sure the inn was secure.”

  “If you had known who I was, I wouldn’t have stayed at your inn.”

  Dallas smiled. “That’s probably true.”

  “Definitely true.”

  “So you’r
e a business owner?” Philip asked.

  “Yes,” Dallas replied. “After my dad died, I took over the inn. It was his passion project, what he wanted to do all his life.”

  “And your mother?” Fer said. “Does she help with the business?”

  “I don’t remember her,” Dallas said with a smile. He knew that this was an awkward conversation topic for most people, but Fer struck him as a kind person. Maybe she wouldn’t mind hearing about this. Plus, Simon had said to just be himself. That was what he was doing. “She died when I was very young. My dad always said that he named it after my mother.”

  “That's really sweet.”

  Dallas’ smile turned into a grin. “Yeah, he seemed to think so.”

  “When did he die?”

  “A few years ago,” Dallas replied. “We knew it was coming for a little while. He taught me how to run the business then, but we didn’t have as much time as we wanted. His plan was to retire, go fishing, spend his days on the beach. Eventually he wanted to give the inn to me.”

  “Did you want the inn?”

  Dallas’ expression sobered. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want the inn. It was that I wanted other things first.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, I guess my passion has always been cooking, so I wanted to open a restaurant. That never happened, but I do like running the inn.”

  Fer cocked her head, her perfectly curly hair cascading over her shoulder. “You do?”

  Dallas nodded. “Yeah, I'm good at it. I like the administration side of it. Managing people is something that my dad helped me with a lot. The books, not so much.”

  They all chuckled politely. Dallas looked at Simon. He was smiling at him, his eyes shining. He put his hand on Dallas’ and squeezed it and Dallas’ heart leaped in his chest.

  “My favorite part is that I get to do the cooking. I don't think I could have another job where I could cook for my guests every morning.”

  “He’s amazing,” Simon said. “I’m sorry, you must all be sick of me. I’ve been raving about your food ever since I got home.”

  Tom smiled. “You must cook something for us.”

  Dallas looked down at the plate of food in front of him, his cheeks reddening. “I don't think I can compete with Mr. Castell.”