Fic: Then You'll Know You Have Arrived 3/3 (Spencer/Brendon, NC-17)
*
Spencer wore Brendon’s slippers all throughout Christmas day, and it gave Brendon a warm glow every time he caught sight of them. He doubted anyone else noticed or cared, but he almost preferred it that way.
A sort of calm had settled over Brendon the evening before and it lasted now. He was comfortable in his skin like he never had been before, tucked close to Spencer’s side as their family and friends exchanged gifts after dinner.
When Spencer laid his cheek against Brendon’s head, Brendon was even so bold as to turn his face into Spencer’s neck, breathing deeply, and pressed a quick kiss there. Spencer granted him a smile that made Brendon’s toes curl, made heat pulse low in his stomach. They made their excuses shortly thereafter, and though Brendon was sure everyone knew precisely why they were going to bed early, he couldn’t find it within himself to care.
They had breakfast alone in their bed chambers on Boxing Day, feeding each other and getting more on the bed and their bodies than in their mouths. Brendon couldn’t help giggling, even as Spencer’s mouth traced lines of cream down his throat.
After, they shared a bath, and Brendon couldn’t believe they hadn’t thought of it before, though he would definitely make sure it happened regularly now. It was absolutely delicious, the hot, slick slide of skin on skin. He straddled Spencer’s lap, clinging around his shoulders as they rocked together. Every time he slipped, fingers digging into Spencer’s back, ass rubbing over Spencer’s cock, he thought of the oil Pete had given him. He couldn’t wait to get back to the palace.
*
Dallon, Ian, and Brendon’s siblings all left to return home from the country castle, promising to visit again soon. Alone with Spencer in their private carriage, Brendon watched the scenery pass, Spencer half asleep with his head on Brendon’s shoulder, and he was content and happy.
It was selfish of him, to miss the others already, when he already had Spencer. Not to mention Shane and Ryan and Jon. Still, it was so, so tempting for Brendon to use his new position to make it so they could all live in London year round.
As if sensing Brendon’s thoughts, Spencer pressed his face into Brendon’s neck, breathing deeply, and said, “You can appoint your own valet, you know. Whomever you like.”
“I like Shane,” Brendon said.
Spencer lifted his head enough to smile sleepily at Brendon. “You can have more than one.”
“I can’t have three,” Brendon said. “And, anyway, it would be weird, having Ian and Dallon work for me.”
“Do you see Ryan doing any work?” Spencer muttered. “Because if you have, I’d really like to know. It might be the first sign of the end times.”
Brendon laughed and rubbed his cheek against the crown of Spencer’s head. “That is because Ryan has Jon wrapped around his finger.” Spencer hummed his amused agreement.
“There are other positions they could fill. Or they could simply stay with us, indefinitely,” Spencer said.
“Maybe,” Brendon said. “Maybe in a few months, I’ll invite them to stay. But as much as I’ve enjoyed having them and my family around, I’m looking forward to spending time with just you.”
“Yeah?” Spencer asked, and lifted his head again. There was a sweet, private grin on his face that made Brendon’s stomach drop in the most pleasant way.
Brendon nodded his head, brushing his lips to Spencer’s. Spencer shifted, pressing Brendon back against the wall of the carriage, deepening the kiss with intent. Fighting the initial urge to push Spencer away, Brendon relaxed, open his mouth to Spencer’s questing tongue. Maybe it wasn’t proper, doing this in a carriage, but maybe what was proper didn’t matter.
*
Brendon woke when the carriage came to a stop with a jerk. There was weak light leaking from around the curtain. It was too quiet here, though. There was no sound of servants or other horses and wheels on the gravel. Brendon stretched and asked around a yawn, “Why’ve we stopped?”
Spencer grabbed his hand and tugged him along as he climbed down from the carriage. “We’re home,” he said.
They were standing before a moderately sized stone mansion. Warm, welcoming light glowed in the downstairs windows, and two women and a man were waiting at the open door.
“Spence,” Brendon said, looking around in wonder. The garden was a lovely green even so deep in winter, and there was a pond just off in the distance, right before a wooded area. At the end of the drive was a high stone gate, beyond which Brendon could see a busy London street, but it was too far for the noise to carry. “What is this?”
“I told you,” Spencer said, giving Brendon’s hand another tug. “We’re home. Come on.”
Brendon allowed himself to be led up the steps to the entrance, where the waiting servants bowed and curtsied and said, “Your Royal Highnesses.”
“Brendon, this is Cassandra, our butler; Robert, our chef, and Mrs. Steele, our housekeeper.” Brendon offered his hand for shaking, and after a brief hesitation, they each took it, in turn.
“Dinner will be ready on the hour, Sir,” Robert said, following them into the entrance hall.
The place was still far nicer than any Brendon had set foot in before meeting Spencer, but it wasn’t as overwhelmingly opulent as the palace or castle. “Very good, Robert. Cassandra, have our trunks brought to the master bedroom. I’m going to show Brendon around.”
Spencer led Brendon to the first room off the hall, a parlour where a fire was crackling merrily in the hearth. Brendon’s piano was sitting by the window in the corner and Brendon went to it, drawing his hand over it wonderingly.
“What…”
“Your present,” Spencer said, gesturing around him.
“My present is a house?” Brendon said blankly. He had to be misunderstanding.
“I’ve seen how uncomfortable you are at the palace, with all the servants and all the visitors to court,” Spencer said. “Besides Cassandra, Robert, and Mrs. Steele, there is only Zachary and two maids, and they all have apartments at the back of the house. Shane, Jon, and Ryan will be staying in the main house, but they’ll only enter our bedroom at our biding. And all the grounds staff live in cottages at the back of the property.”
“But-but you’re the prince, don’t you have to-I mean, shouldn’t you-” Brendon wasn’t even sure what he meant to ask.
“I can carry out my duties from here as easily as from the palace,” Spencer said. “Of course we’ll still spend plenty of time there. Mother will expect us at dinner regularly, and the twins will probably pester us if we don’t come around at least twice a week.”
Spencer came to stand beside Brendon and placed his hand against the small of his back. “Let me show you the rest.”
*
After a day of travel, being shocked by the house Spencer had given him, and stuffing himself on the delicious meal Robert had prepared, Brendon was ready to sleep for ages.
Most of their possessions had been moved while they were at the country palace and were now in their smaller, cosier bedroom. Someone had unpacked and organised everything so that it was almost as if they’d been living here all along. Brendon left his clothing in a pile at the bedside and flopped down onto the soft, warm mattress with a groan.
“Don’t go to sleep on me yet,” Spencer murmured. He climbed up to straddle Brendon’s hips, skin cool and smooth. His teeth scraped up the column of Brendon’s throat, pausing to suck at his pulse, before closing around his earlobe.
Brendon hummed sleepily, eyes still closed, let his hands ghost up Spencer’s thighs. “Haven’t you had enough?” he asked. Even saying, Brendon could feel his body responding to Spencer’s attention.
“I never have enough of you,” Spencer said, voice low and deep next to Brendon’s ear. It made goosebumps rise on Brendon’s arms, made his skin prickle hotly. He made a weak sound of embarrassed protest.
“It’s true,” Spencer said. “And now that we have our own home, I can keep you in bed all day, if I want.”
Brendon laughed and opened his eyes to see Spencer giving him a rakish grin. A jolt went through him, and just like that, Brendon wasn’t as tired anymore. He reached up to wrap an arm around Spencer’s neck and drew him in for a kiss.
*
“And then you’ll be leaving for Scotland for Easter celebration, before heading on to Germany, then France, then Italy, and finishing in Rome,” Ryan listed off the locations with a sort of bored drawl. Brendon, who’d never been any further north than Blissford, or south than London, was feeling more overwhelmed.
“That seems like a lot,” he said.
Jon shrugged. “They’ve moved Spain back until the Duke’s wedding, so actually that gives you a bit more flexibility in your schedule.”
Brendon rubbed his forehead, but it didn’t do anything for his building headache. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.”
Spencer got up from his desk and came to stand behind the sofa. His fingers were strong and sure, working on the tense muscles of Brendon’s shoulders and neck. “Your people love you, and so will everyone else.”
“Our people love you,” Brendon said. “So they’ll tolerate me.”
“I don’t know how you married someone so stupid,” Ryan muttered. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table.
Brendon glared. He was getting to know Ryan better, but his sense of humour often seemed to be lacking. “What Ryan is trying to say,” Shane said, “is that all the celebrating after the wedding, all gifts sent to the palace specifically for you, all the nobles clamouring for your attention, would suggest a certain fondness for you.”
“Well,” Brendon said, and crossed his arms. He was irritable and tired of all the public appearances in his own country. As much as the idea of travel appealed to him, all the meeting with foreign politicians and royals was terribly daunting.
“It’s just so soon. We’ve barely been married. I’ve been having lessons for a couple months. Surely it would be better if I didn’t go. What if I say or do the wrong thing and start some sort of international incident?”
“Alright,” Spencer said. He reached over the back of the sofa to lace his fingers through Brendon’s. “I think I’m taking my husband to bed.”
“Spencer,” Brendon hissed, dismayed by the knowing looks on Jon and Ryan’s faces. At least Shane had the decency to pretend not to hear. Brendon took back his hand and hurried from the room and up the stairs.
“They’d know what we were doing whether I said it or not,” Spencer reasoned, following at a slower pace. “And either way, they don’t care.”
“Still,” Brendon muttered. He was in a bad mood and not ready to be talked out of it.
Spencer caught Brendon around the waist, right in the middle of the hall, and jerked him close. Brendon fought the kiss at first, but it was hard to remember why he was struggling when Spencer’s tongue was teasing past Brendon’s lips, slicking hotly against his own.
“I want to try something,” Spencer whispered, between nipping kisses. He walked Brendon backwards until he bumped into their open bedroom door.
Brendon made a noise of agreement. Generally the things Spencer wanted to try ended up feeling pretty amazing. He kicked the door closed behind them. “Whatever you want,” he said, and thought about the oil Pete had given him.
“If you don’t like it-” Spencer started, and Brendon stopped him, pushing Spencer back on the bed and climbing on top of him, leaning in. It was distraction enough, apparently. Brendon lost himself in the kiss, in the slow grind of Spencer’s cock against his, still delicious through layers of clothing.
Brendon had to keep sucking kisses down Spencer’s throat, in the little hollow between collarbone and shoulder, but never strayed too far from Spencer’s mouth. Spencer kept trying to draw away, sink down Brendon’s body, and it was tempting, but Brendon wanted to kiss Spencer forever.
Spencer rolled them over, laughed against Brendon’s mouth. “We’re never going to get anywhere if you don’t let me go,” he said.
Pouting, Brendon released the grip he had on Spencer’s shoulders. He meant to say something, but got distracted when Spencer began to undress. He’d lost count of how many times they’d done this, but the sight of Spencer naked still did funny things to Brendon’s body.
“It works better when you undress, too,” Spencer said.
Brendon made a grumbling noise but got up on his knees, fighting with the buttons on his shirt. Spencer scooted closer, working on the fastenings of Brendon’s trousers and with some tugging and wiggling, they both got Brendon naked. He’d barely adjusted to the change before Spencer pinned him back to the bed and went down on him.
This, Brendon would never get used to. This amazing, moist heat that made Brendon’s whole body tremble and surge. He sank his fingers in Spencer’s hair, nails scraping along Spencer’s scalp.
But Spencer didn’t stay there long. With one last suck, Spencer released Brendon’s cock. His tongue traced over Brendon’s scrotum. Brendon made an undignified, high-pitched noise, squirming.
Spencer straightened up and stretched over Brendon to fumble with the bedside table, jerking the drawer open. He retrieved a bottle that, when uncorked, released a vaguely sweet scent and was clear when Spencer poured it in his hand. “Okay?” he asked.
Brendon nodded, biting his lip. There was some apprehension, but that was nothing compared to the way his stomach kept turning over and over in anticipation. Spencer got down on his elbows between Brendon’s spread legs. The first touch made him clamp his legs together as much as he could with Spencer’s shoulders in the way.
“We don’t have to,” Spencer said.
“No, just.” Brendon took a deep, steadying breath and let his legs fall open, knees hitting the sheets. “I need to get used to it.” He laid his open palms against his thighs, holding them down when Spencer tried again.
At first it tickled more than anything, which wasn’t exactly the reaction Spencer was going for, probably. His fingers circled lightly, and Brendon trembled with the effort to stay still. Then Spencer pushed forward with two fingers and it stopped tickling.
It burned, and it felt really strange, but it felt good, too. Good, slick and tight, and not enough. Spencer sucked down Brendon’s cock again as his fingers stretched and crooked, inching deeper so, so slowly. Brendon worked his hips back, trying to take more, and when that didn’t work, whined, “Spencer, more. You can-more.”
Spencer pulled back, sitting up a little. His fingers were unmoving and Brendon felt tense and on edge and a little desperate. “Ryan said-”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you talked about this with Ryan,” Brendon muttered.
“Well, how else was I supposed to know what to do?” Spencer asked, a little testily. “And he said to go slow.”
Brendon just grabbed Spencer’s hand and poured more of the oil over his fingers. “I’ll let you know if you need to slow down,” he said.
For a second, Spencer looked like he was going to argue. Brendon wasn’t above begging, if that’s what he would take. He couldn’t stop the little whine curling up in the back of his throat, and that seemed to be all the more motivation Spencer needed.
Three fingers were shocking. Brendon shifted back and forth on his hips, trying to find the right angle to lessen the sting. “Maybe,” he said, and had to stop and take a few panting breaths. “Maybe give it a minute.”
Spencer stopped, his free hand petting up Brendon’s thigh. “We could switch?” he said.
Just the thought made Brendon’s brain go white and fuzzy, that Spencer was even offering to let Brendon take him like this. As tantalising an offer as it was, and one Brendon would follow up on at some point, he’d been longing for this, just the way they were now. Even through the burning, stinging pain, Brendon wanted this.
Almost by accident, it got better. Brendon kept squirming around and Spencer kept adding more of the oil. The sheets were wet and slippery, and Brendon could only briefly spare a thought of apology for the servants. Then Brendon sort of squeezed down instead of clenching up, and Spencer’s fingers slipped all the way inside.
There was another sharp stinging followed but an almost unbearable burst of pleasure that made Brendon’s hands scrabble at the sheets in desperation. He heard himself almost through a haze, whining, begging, “Fuck, fuck, Spencer, fuck.” He would have been scandalised at himself, if there was anything left to feel other than the bright sparks of so fucking good shooting down his spine, through his dick, like Spencer’s fingers were wired all throughout his body.
Spencer sat up, pulling his hand free quickly, but carefully, and wiping it on the sheet. “Did I-are you okay? Are you hurt?”
The sudden emptiness left Brendon bereft. He grabbed Spencer by the hair and tugged, sitting up to meet him halfway in a messy kiss, all the while trying to squirm lower in the bed, trying to get Spencer where they both wanted him to be.
“Brendon?”
Brendon flailed around blindly until he found the bottle again. He broke the kiss to flash Spencer a kick, distracted smile and leaned in again. By touch he got the bottle open and spilled it over Spencer’s cock. Spencer groaned into the kiss when Brendon wrapped a slick hand around him and began to stroke.
After a moment, Spencer reached out to return the favour. Brendon almost let himself be distracted by it. It was familiar and oh so good. But there was a sort of aching emptiness that he somehow knew only Spencer could fill.
“W-” Brendon lost his train of thought when Spencer began to suck on his tongue. “No, wait,” he insisted, and turned his head away. Spencer sucked at his throat instead.
Brendon grabbed him by the chin and brought Spencer’s gaze to his. Spencer swiped his thumb over the head of Brendon’s cock, and seriously, how was Brendon supposed to be able to think like this? “Spence,” he said, and tried to sound firm. “I want you to fuck me.”
That got Spencer’s attention, head snapping up. Brendon flushed bright red. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to these words, but if the way Spencer’s cock jumped at hearing them was any indication, he liked it.
“Yeah,” Spencer moaned. “Yeah, I want that, too.”
Brendon gave Spencer’s dick another squeeze and then let go, laying back on the sheets. He spread his legs wider in welcoming. Spencer just stared at him for a long moment, eyes darting all over, nostrils flaring. The look on his face made Brendon feel bolder than he was. He dragged a hand down his own chest, bypassing his aching cock, and brushed his fingers over his opening.
Spencer cursed under his breath and surged against Brendon, kissing him hard enough to bruise. Then he was lining up, the blunt head of his cock nudging Brendon’s fingers. Brendon closed his hand around Spencer’s length, guiding him in. He let out an unsteady breath at the first push and reminded himself to bear down.
“Oh,” Brendon panted, “oh, oh, fuck.” He dug his fingers in Spencer’s arms, buried his face in Spencer’s neck. He couldn’t stop the noises that kept pouring past his lips, breathy, gasping whines.
“Should I-is it okay?” Brendon couldn’t see Spencer’s face, but it sounded like it was taking all his effort to speak, holding still, only just breaching Brendon’s body.
“You can move,” Brendon managed. “Just, slowly.”
It seemed to take forever, and Brendon had never thought much about the size of Spencer’s cock until now. He didn’t really have much to compare it to, but he liked the way it fit in his hand, and how it stretched his jaw, but now it seemed impossibly big.
Then Spencer sank that last little bit, skin flush against Brendon’s ass, and there was another spark of pleasure, fainter than before. It was enough to distract from the discomfort. Brendon clung to Spencer’s shoulders and shifted his hips experimentally and there it was again, sharper.
“That’s good?” Spencer asked. He sounded strangled.
Brendon nodded frantically, grinding his hips in tight circle. This time Spencer pulled back just slightly and rocked back in, and “Oh.” Maybe later he’d come up with something more eloquent to describe how amazing it was, but he couldn’t get past the single syllable.
From there it didn’t last very long. With every slow thrust of Spencer’s hips the slide got easier, and the pain faded to a dull, satisfying ache. If Brendon tilted his hips just right, there was that white hot spark of liquid pleasure every time Spencer drove back in. When Spencer started moving faster and harder it only got more intense, until Brendon was rocking up to meet him every time.
“Brendon,” Spencer said, and he’d never sounded that way before, so utterly wrecked. “You feel-I can’t-”
“You can,” Brendon said, petting his hair, his shoulder, anywhere he could reach. He snaked a hand between their bodies, wrapping around his own dick and pulling fast. His own release shocked him. There was none of the normal build, it just hit him out of nowhere, sudden and powerful and he spilled all over his hand and Spencer’s belly.
“Oh,” Spencer said, “Fuck, Brendon, you-that-” and then he groaned, hips jerking fast and hard as he came.
Brendon was trembling and he felt giddy. He kept swallowing back little bursts of laughter. It had never felt like that before. Spencer rubbed his cheek against Brendon’s chest where he’d fallen. “Are you okay?”
“I’m-” Brendon finally gave in to the urge and laughed, shaky and joyful. He wrapped his arms more tightly around Spencer, clinging. “I’m-that was-God, I love you.”
Spencer laughed too. Brushing a kiss over Brendon’s collarbone, he sat up a little. “Yeah,” he said, “me, too,” and pushed up to claim Brendon’s mouth in a soft kiss. The movement made him slide free of Brendon’s body. Brendon couldn’t stop the pained moan that caused.
“Sorry,” Spencer said. “Is it really bad?”
Brendon shook his head. “Not really bad,” he said. Strange, the rush of liquid warmth pouring out of his body, and lingering sting. “I don’t mind. It’s a reminder of what we did.”
“You were-you felt amazing,” Spencer said in a rush. “You can-next time you can have your turn, it was-”
“It felt pretty good from this end, too,” Brendon said. He felt inexplicably smug, and he just wanted to luxuriate in this afterglow as long as possible. Now no one could say he and Spencer didn’t belong to each other entirely. Not even the idea of anyone having heard them bothered Brendon at the moment.
“Move over.” Brendon nudged at Spencer’s stomach until he got the hint and moved to the other side of the bed, away from the wet, slippery mess. Spencer tucked Brendon close to his side, arm around his shoulders to pull him in.
Beneath his ear, Brendon could hear the steady thump of Spencer’s heart, throbbing in time to the ache that had settled in Brendon’s ass. “I really wish you wouldn’t worry about Europe,” Spencer said. “You’re going to be brilliant.”
“You have to say that because we’re married,” Brendon muttered.
“I married you because it’s true,” Spencer said. Brendon didn’t feel like arguing. He had the feeling it was something they would disagree on for the rest of their lives, and it didn’t bother him so much when looked at in that perspective. So he sighed and relaxed further into Spencer’s side.
“And whenever you get too tense, or upset, all I have to do is drag you off to bed,” Spencer teased.
“Hmm,” Brendon said. “Somehow I don’t imagine King Louis would appreciate us leaving in the middle of a state dinner to go have our kit off.”
Spencer laughed, and Brendon liked the way it buzzed against his ear, along his jaw. He let his hand trace idly along Spencer’s waist, the gentle curve of his hip, along the flat of his belly, and felt proprietary in a way he never had before.
“I don’t know about him, though he is French. You should hear the stories my grandmother used to tell about his father,” Spencer said. “Queen Mary, on the other hand, might just ask to watch,” Spencer said.
Brendon felt himself go a dull red. “What is it about those of you with noble blood that deprives you of all shame?”
“It probably stems from our divine right to rule,” Spencer mused.
“Right,” Brendon said, grinning, and thinking of how Ryan liked to tease Spencer sometimes. “Or all the inbreeding.”
Spencer pinched him, and Brendon poked back, and after a brief spate of tickling they ended up with Brendon flat on his back and Spencer curled up half on top of him, nestled close. “You’re the one who married into it,” Spencer said.
“I did,” Brendon agreed. “Best decision I ever made.”
Fin.
Spencer wore Brendon’s slippers all throughout Christmas day, and it gave Brendon a warm glow every time he caught sight of them. He doubted anyone else noticed or cared, but he almost preferred it that way.
A sort of calm had settled over Brendon the evening before and it lasted now. He was comfortable in his skin like he never had been before, tucked close to Spencer’s side as their family and friends exchanged gifts after dinner.
When Spencer laid his cheek against Brendon’s head, Brendon was even so bold as to turn his face into Spencer’s neck, breathing deeply, and pressed a quick kiss there. Spencer granted him a smile that made Brendon’s toes curl, made heat pulse low in his stomach. They made their excuses shortly thereafter, and though Brendon was sure everyone knew precisely why they were going to bed early, he couldn’t find it within himself to care.
They had breakfast alone in their bed chambers on Boxing Day, feeding each other and getting more on the bed and their bodies than in their mouths. Brendon couldn’t help giggling, even as Spencer’s mouth traced lines of cream down his throat.
After, they shared a bath, and Brendon couldn’t believe they hadn’t thought of it before, though he would definitely make sure it happened regularly now. It was absolutely delicious, the hot, slick slide of skin on skin. He straddled Spencer’s lap, clinging around his shoulders as they rocked together. Every time he slipped, fingers digging into Spencer’s back, ass rubbing over Spencer’s cock, he thought of the oil Pete had given him. He couldn’t wait to get back to the palace.
*
Dallon, Ian, and Brendon’s siblings all left to return home from the country castle, promising to visit again soon. Alone with Spencer in their private carriage, Brendon watched the scenery pass, Spencer half asleep with his head on Brendon’s shoulder, and he was content and happy.
It was selfish of him, to miss the others already, when he already had Spencer. Not to mention Shane and Ryan and Jon. Still, it was so, so tempting for Brendon to use his new position to make it so they could all live in London year round.
As if sensing Brendon’s thoughts, Spencer pressed his face into Brendon’s neck, breathing deeply, and said, “You can appoint your own valet, you know. Whomever you like.”
“I like Shane,” Brendon said.
Spencer lifted his head enough to smile sleepily at Brendon. “You can have more than one.”
“I can’t have three,” Brendon said. “And, anyway, it would be weird, having Ian and Dallon work for me.”
“Do you see Ryan doing any work?” Spencer muttered. “Because if you have, I’d really like to know. It might be the first sign of the end times.”
Brendon laughed and rubbed his cheek against the crown of Spencer’s head. “That is because Ryan has Jon wrapped around his finger.” Spencer hummed his amused agreement.
“There are other positions they could fill. Or they could simply stay with us, indefinitely,” Spencer said.
“Maybe,” Brendon said. “Maybe in a few months, I’ll invite them to stay. But as much as I’ve enjoyed having them and my family around, I’m looking forward to spending time with just you.”
“Yeah?” Spencer asked, and lifted his head again. There was a sweet, private grin on his face that made Brendon’s stomach drop in the most pleasant way.
Brendon nodded his head, brushing his lips to Spencer’s. Spencer shifted, pressing Brendon back against the wall of the carriage, deepening the kiss with intent. Fighting the initial urge to push Spencer away, Brendon relaxed, open his mouth to Spencer’s questing tongue. Maybe it wasn’t proper, doing this in a carriage, but maybe what was proper didn’t matter.
*
Brendon woke when the carriage came to a stop with a jerk. There was weak light leaking from around the curtain. It was too quiet here, though. There was no sound of servants or other horses and wheels on the gravel. Brendon stretched and asked around a yawn, “Why’ve we stopped?”
Spencer grabbed his hand and tugged him along as he climbed down from the carriage. “We’re home,” he said.
They were standing before a moderately sized stone mansion. Warm, welcoming light glowed in the downstairs windows, and two women and a man were waiting at the open door.
“Spence,” Brendon said, looking around in wonder. The garden was a lovely green even so deep in winter, and there was a pond just off in the distance, right before a wooded area. At the end of the drive was a high stone gate, beyond which Brendon could see a busy London street, but it was too far for the noise to carry. “What is this?”
“I told you,” Spencer said, giving Brendon’s hand another tug. “We’re home. Come on.”
Brendon allowed himself to be led up the steps to the entrance, where the waiting servants bowed and curtsied and said, “Your Royal Highnesses.”
“Brendon, this is Cassandra, our butler; Robert, our chef, and Mrs. Steele, our housekeeper.” Brendon offered his hand for shaking, and after a brief hesitation, they each took it, in turn.
“Dinner will be ready on the hour, Sir,” Robert said, following them into the entrance hall.
The place was still far nicer than any Brendon had set foot in before meeting Spencer, but it wasn’t as overwhelmingly opulent as the palace or castle. “Very good, Robert. Cassandra, have our trunks brought to the master bedroom. I’m going to show Brendon around.”
Spencer led Brendon to the first room off the hall, a parlour where a fire was crackling merrily in the hearth. Brendon’s piano was sitting by the window in the corner and Brendon went to it, drawing his hand over it wonderingly.
“What…”
“Your present,” Spencer said, gesturing around him.
“My present is a house?” Brendon said blankly. He had to be misunderstanding.
“I’ve seen how uncomfortable you are at the palace, with all the servants and all the visitors to court,” Spencer said. “Besides Cassandra, Robert, and Mrs. Steele, there is only Zachary and two maids, and they all have apartments at the back of the house. Shane, Jon, and Ryan will be staying in the main house, but they’ll only enter our bedroom at our biding. And all the grounds staff live in cottages at the back of the property.”
“But-but you’re the prince, don’t you have to-I mean, shouldn’t you-” Brendon wasn’t even sure what he meant to ask.
“I can carry out my duties from here as easily as from the palace,” Spencer said. “Of course we’ll still spend plenty of time there. Mother will expect us at dinner regularly, and the twins will probably pester us if we don’t come around at least twice a week.”
Spencer came to stand beside Brendon and placed his hand against the small of his back. “Let me show you the rest.”
*
After a day of travel, being shocked by the house Spencer had given him, and stuffing himself on the delicious meal Robert had prepared, Brendon was ready to sleep for ages.
Most of their possessions had been moved while they were at the country palace and were now in their smaller, cosier bedroom. Someone had unpacked and organised everything so that it was almost as if they’d been living here all along. Brendon left his clothing in a pile at the bedside and flopped down onto the soft, warm mattress with a groan.
“Don’t go to sleep on me yet,” Spencer murmured. He climbed up to straddle Brendon’s hips, skin cool and smooth. His teeth scraped up the column of Brendon’s throat, pausing to suck at his pulse, before closing around his earlobe.
Brendon hummed sleepily, eyes still closed, let his hands ghost up Spencer’s thighs. “Haven’t you had enough?” he asked. Even saying, Brendon could feel his body responding to Spencer’s attention.
“I never have enough of you,” Spencer said, voice low and deep next to Brendon’s ear. It made goosebumps rise on Brendon’s arms, made his skin prickle hotly. He made a weak sound of embarrassed protest.
“It’s true,” Spencer said. “And now that we have our own home, I can keep you in bed all day, if I want.”
Brendon laughed and opened his eyes to see Spencer giving him a rakish grin. A jolt went through him, and just like that, Brendon wasn’t as tired anymore. He reached up to wrap an arm around Spencer’s neck and drew him in for a kiss.
*
“And then you’ll be leaving for Scotland for Easter celebration, before heading on to Germany, then France, then Italy, and finishing in Rome,” Ryan listed off the locations with a sort of bored drawl. Brendon, who’d never been any further north than Blissford, or south than London, was feeling more overwhelmed.
“That seems like a lot,” he said.
Jon shrugged. “They’ve moved Spain back until the Duke’s wedding, so actually that gives you a bit more flexibility in your schedule.”
Brendon rubbed his forehead, but it didn’t do anything for his building headache. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.”
Spencer got up from his desk and came to stand behind the sofa. His fingers were strong and sure, working on the tense muscles of Brendon’s shoulders and neck. “Your people love you, and so will everyone else.”
“Our people love you,” Brendon said. “So they’ll tolerate me.”
“I don’t know how you married someone so stupid,” Ryan muttered. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table.
Brendon glared. He was getting to know Ryan better, but his sense of humour often seemed to be lacking. “What Ryan is trying to say,” Shane said, “is that all the celebrating after the wedding, all gifts sent to the palace specifically for you, all the nobles clamouring for your attention, would suggest a certain fondness for you.”
“Well,” Brendon said, and crossed his arms. He was irritable and tired of all the public appearances in his own country. As much as the idea of travel appealed to him, all the meeting with foreign politicians and royals was terribly daunting.
“It’s just so soon. We’ve barely been married. I’ve been having lessons for a couple months. Surely it would be better if I didn’t go. What if I say or do the wrong thing and start some sort of international incident?”
“Alright,” Spencer said. He reached over the back of the sofa to lace his fingers through Brendon’s. “I think I’m taking my husband to bed.”
“Spencer,” Brendon hissed, dismayed by the knowing looks on Jon and Ryan’s faces. At least Shane had the decency to pretend not to hear. Brendon took back his hand and hurried from the room and up the stairs.
“They’d know what we were doing whether I said it or not,” Spencer reasoned, following at a slower pace. “And either way, they don’t care.”
“Still,” Brendon muttered. He was in a bad mood and not ready to be talked out of it.
Spencer caught Brendon around the waist, right in the middle of the hall, and jerked him close. Brendon fought the kiss at first, but it was hard to remember why he was struggling when Spencer’s tongue was teasing past Brendon’s lips, slicking hotly against his own.
“I want to try something,” Spencer whispered, between nipping kisses. He walked Brendon backwards until he bumped into their open bedroom door.
Brendon made a noise of agreement. Generally the things Spencer wanted to try ended up feeling pretty amazing. He kicked the door closed behind them. “Whatever you want,” he said, and thought about the oil Pete had given him.
“If you don’t like it-” Spencer started, and Brendon stopped him, pushing Spencer back on the bed and climbing on top of him, leaning in. It was distraction enough, apparently. Brendon lost himself in the kiss, in the slow grind of Spencer’s cock against his, still delicious through layers of clothing.
Brendon had to keep sucking kisses down Spencer’s throat, in the little hollow between collarbone and shoulder, but never strayed too far from Spencer’s mouth. Spencer kept trying to draw away, sink down Brendon’s body, and it was tempting, but Brendon wanted to kiss Spencer forever.
Spencer rolled them over, laughed against Brendon’s mouth. “We’re never going to get anywhere if you don’t let me go,” he said.
Pouting, Brendon released the grip he had on Spencer’s shoulders. He meant to say something, but got distracted when Spencer began to undress. He’d lost count of how many times they’d done this, but the sight of Spencer naked still did funny things to Brendon’s body.
“It works better when you undress, too,” Spencer said.
Brendon made a grumbling noise but got up on his knees, fighting with the buttons on his shirt. Spencer scooted closer, working on the fastenings of Brendon’s trousers and with some tugging and wiggling, they both got Brendon naked. He’d barely adjusted to the change before Spencer pinned him back to the bed and went down on him.
This, Brendon would never get used to. This amazing, moist heat that made Brendon’s whole body tremble and surge. He sank his fingers in Spencer’s hair, nails scraping along Spencer’s scalp.
But Spencer didn’t stay there long. With one last suck, Spencer released Brendon’s cock. His tongue traced over Brendon’s scrotum. Brendon made an undignified, high-pitched noise, squirming.
Spencer straightened up and stretched over Brendon to fumble with the bedside table, jerking the drawer open. He retrieved a bottle that, when uncorked, released a vaguely sweet scent and was clear when Spencer poured it in his hand. “Okay?” he asked.
Brendon nodded, biting his lip. There was some apprehension, but that was nothing compared to the way his stomach kept turning over and over in anticipation. Spencer got down on his elbows between Brendon’s spread legs. The first touch made him clamp his legs together as much as he could with Spencer’s shoulders in the way.
“We don’t have to,” Spencer said.
“No, just.” Brendon took a deep, steadying breath and let his legs fall open, knees hitting the sheets. “I need to get used to it.” He laid his open palms against his thighs, holding them down when Spencer tried again.
At first it tickled more than anything, which wasn’t exactly the reaction Spencer was going for, probably. His fingers circled lightly, and Brendon trembled with the effort to stay still. Then Spencer pushed forward with two fingers and it stopped tickling.
It burned, and it felt really strange, but it felt good, too. Good, slick and tight, and not enough. Spencer sucked down Brendon’s cock again as his fingers stretched and crooked, inching deeper so, so slowly. Brendon worked his hips back, trying to take more, and when that didn’t work, whined, “Spencer, more. You can-more.”
Spencer pulled back, sitting up a little. His fingers were unmoving and Brendon felt tense and on edge and a little desperate. “Ryan said-”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you talked about this with Ryan,” Brendon muttered.
“Well, how else was I supposed to know what to do?” Spencer asked, a little testily. “And he said to go slow.”
Brendon just grabbed Spencer’s hand and poured more of the oil over his fingers. “I’ll let you know if you need to slow down,” he said.
For a second, Spencer looked like he was going to argue. Brendon wasn’t above begging, if that’s what he would take. He couldn’t stop the little whine curling up in the back of his throat, and that seemed to be all the more motivation Spencer needed.
Three fingers were shocking. Brendon shifted back and forth on his hips, trying to find the right angle to lessen the sting. “Maybe,” he said, and had to stop and take a few panting breaths. “Maybe give it a minute.”
Spencer stopped, his free hand petting up Brendon’s thigh. “We could switch?” he said.
Just the thought made Brendon’s brain go white and fuzzy, that Spencer was even offering to let Brendon take him like this. As tantalising an offer as it was, and one Brendon would follow up on at some point, he’d been longing for this, just the way they were now. Even through the burning, stinging pain, Brendon wanted this.
Almost by accident, it got better. Brendon kept squirming around and Spencer kept adding more of the oil. The sheets were wet and slippery, and Brendon could only briefly spare a thought of apology for the servants. Then Brendon sort of squeezed down instead of clenching up, and Spencer’s fingers slipped all the way inside.
There was another sharp stinging followed but an almost unbearable burst of pleasure that made Brendon’s hands scrabble at the sheets in desperation. He heard himself almost through a haze, whining, begging, “Fuck, fuck, Spencer, fuck.” He would have been scandalised at himself, if there was anything left to feel other than the bright sparks of so fucking good shooting down his spine, through his dick, like Spencer’s fingers were wired all throughout his body.
Spencer sat up, pulling his hand free quickly, but carefully, and wiping it on the sheet. “Did I-are you okay? Are you hurt?”
The sudden emptiness left Brendon bereft. He grabbed Spencer by the hair and tugged, sitting up to meet him halfway in a messy kiss, all the while trying to squirm lower in the bed, trying to get Spencer where they both wanted him to be.
“Brendon?”
Brendon flailed around blindly until he found the bottle again. He broke the kiss to flash Spencer a kick, distracted smile and leaned in again. By touch he got the bottle open and spilled it over Spencer’s cock. Spencer groaned into the kiss when Brendon wrapped a slick hand around him and began to stroke.
After a moment, Spencer reached out to return the favour. Brendon almost let himself be distracted by it. It was familiar and oh so good. But there was a sort of aching emptiness that he somehow knew only Spencer could fill.
“W-” Brendon lost his train of thought when Spencer began to suck on his tongue. “No, wait,” he insisted, and turned his head away. Spencer sucked at his throat instead.
Brendon grabbed him by the chin and brought Spencer’s gaze to his. Spencer swiped his thumb over the head of Brendon’s cock, and seriously, how was Brendon supposed to be able to think like this? “Spence,” he said, and tried to sound firm. “I want you to fuck me.”
That got Spencer’s attention, head snapping up. Brendon flushed bright red. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to these words, but if the way Spencer’s cock jumped at hearing them was any indication, he liked it.
“Yeah,” Spencer moaned. “Yeah, I want that, too.”
Brendon gave Spencer’s dick another squeeze and then let go, laying back on the sheets. He spread his legs wider in welcoming. Spencer just stared at him for a long moment, eyes darting all over, nostrils flaring. The look on his face made Brendon feel bolder than he was. He dragged a hand down his own chest, bypassing his aching cock, and brushed his fingers over his opening.
Spencer cursed under his breath and surged against Brendon, kissing him hard enough to bruise. Then he was lining up, the blunt head of his cock nudging Brendon’s fingers. Brendon closed his hand around Spencer’s length, guiding him in. He let out an unsteady breath at the first push and reminded himself to bear down.
“Oh,” Brendon panted, “oh, oh, fuck.” He dug his fingers in Spencer’s arms, buried his face in Spencer’s neck. He couldn’t stop the noises that kept pouring past his lips, breathy, gasping whines.
“Should I-is it okay?” Brendon couldn’t see Spencer’s face, but it sounded like it was taking all his effort to speak, holding still, only just breaching Brendon’s body.
“You can move,” Brendon managed. “Just, slowly.”
It seemed to take forever, and Brendon had never thought much about the size of Spencer’s cock until now. He didn’t really have much to compare it to, but he liked the way it fit in his hand, and how it stretched his jaw, but now it seemed impossibly big.
Then Spencer sank that last little bit, skin flush against Brendon’s ass, and there was another spark of pleasure, fainter than before. It was enough to distract from the discomfort. Brendon clung to Spencer’s shoulders and shifted his hips experimentally and there it was again, sharper.
“That’s good?” Spencer asked. He sounded strangled.
Brendon nodded frantically, grinding his hips in tight circle. This time Spencer pulled back just slightly and rocked back in, and “Oh.” Maybe later he’d come up with something more eloquent to describe how amazing it was, but he couldn’t get past the single syllable.
From there it didn’t last very long. With every slow thrust of Spencer’s hips the slide got easier, and the pain faded to a dull, satisfying ache. If Brendon tilted his hips just right, there was that white hot spark of liquid pleasure every time Spencer drove back in. When Spencer started moving faster and harder it only got more intense, until Brendon was rocking up to meet him every time.
“Brendon,” Spencer said, and he’d never sounded that way before, so utterly wrecked. “You feel-I can’t-”
“You can,” Brendon said, petting his hair, his shoulder, anywhere he could reach. He snaked a hand between their bodies, wrapping around his own dick and pulling fast. His own release shocked him. There was none of the normal build, it just hit him out of nowhere, sudden and powerful and he spilled all over his hand and Spencer’s belly.
“Oh,” Spencer said, “Fuck, Brendon, you-that-” and then he groaned, hips jerking fast and hard as he came.
Brendon was trembling and he felt giddy. He kept swallowing back little bursts of laughter. It had never felt like that before. Spencer rubbed his cheek against Brendon’s chest where he’d fallen. “Are you okay?”
“I’m-” Brendon finally gave in to the urge and laughed, shaky and joyful. He wrapped his arms more tightly around Spencer, clinging. “I’m-that was-God, I love you.”
Spencer laughed too. Brushing a kiss over Brendon’s collarbone, he sat up a little. “Yeah,” he said, “me, too,” and pushed up to claim Brendon’s mouth in a soft kiss. The movement made him slide free of Brendon’s body. Brendon couldn’t stop the pained moan that caused.
“Sorry,” Spencer said. “Is it really bad?”
Brendon shook his head. “Not really bad,” he said. Strange, the rush of liquid warmth pouring out of his body, and lingering sting. “I don’t mind. It’s a reminder of what we did.”
“You were-you felt amazing,” Spencer said in a rush. “You can-next time you can have your turn, it was-”
“It felt pretty good from this end, too,” Brendon said. He felt inexplicably smug, and he just wanted to luxuriate in this afterglow as long as possible. Now no one could say he and Spencer didn’t belong to each other entirely. Not even the idea of anyone having heard them bothered Brendon at the moment.
“Move over.” Brendon nudged at Spencer’s stomach until he got the hint and moved to the other side of the bed, away from the wet, slippery mess. Spencer tucked Brendon close to his side, arm around his shoulders to pull him in.
Beneath his ear, Brendon could hear the steady thump of Spencer’s heart, throbbing in time to the ache that had settled in Brendon’s ass. “I really wish you wouldn’t worry about Europe,” Spencer said. “You’re going to be brilliant.”
“You have to say that because we’re married,” Brendon muttered.
“I married you because it’s true,” Spencer said. Brendon didn’t feel like arguing. He had the feeling it was something they would disagree on for the rest of their lives, and it didn’t bother him so much when looked at in that perspective. So he sighed and relaxed further into Spencer’s side.
“And whenever you get too tense, or upset, all I have to do is drag you off to bed,” Spencer teased.
“Hmm,” Brendon said. “Somehow I don’t imagine King Louis would appreciate us leaving in the middle of a state dinner to go have our kit off.”
Spencer laughed, and Brendon liked the way it buzzed against his ear, along his jaw. He let his hand trace idly along Spencer’s waist, the gentle curve of his hip, along the flat of his belly, and felt proprietary in a way he never had before.
“I don’t know about him, though he is French. You should hear the stories my grandmother used to tell about his father,” Spencer said. “Queen Mary, on the other hand, might just ask to watch,” Spencer said.
Brendon felt himself go a dull red. “What is it about those of you with noble blood that deprives you of all shame?”
“It probably stems from our divine right to rule,” Spencer mused.
“Right,” Brendon said, grinning, and thinking of how Ryan liked to tease Spencer sometimes. “Or all the inbreeding.”
Spencer pinched him, and Brendon poked back, and after a brief spate of tickling they ended up with Brendon flat on his back and Spencer curled up half on top of him, nestled close. “You’re the one who married into it,” Spencer said.
“I did,” Brendon agreed. “Best decision I ever made.”
Fin.