The Last Romanov : Chapter 3
Title: The Last Romanov : Chapter 3
Pairing: RLochte/?
Fandom: RPF Olympic
Rating: NC-17; masturbation
Warnings: Real person fiction; Real person slash;
Summary: Royalty AU; A royal prince seeks a suitable bachelor.
Notes: 2007 words
The next morning over breakfast, Ryan stared into his omelet, "Your Majesty..." He avoided the eyes of his siblings, "Has any one of the suitors... asked about me?"
The King merely glanced at him, "All of the suitors have asked about you."
Ryan poked at his omelet with his fork, trying to hide his disappointment, "Oh."
Devon scowled, "Why do you care, anyway?"
"Yeah," Megan chimed in, frowning as well, "You don't need a husband."
The Queen inhaled sharply, setting down her water glass, "Megan!"
"Well, he doesn't! It's just fine with all of us here together."
Ryan intercepted before his mother could, "That's not going to change."
Kristin pushed her chair back, standing up, "Yes it is! If you marry some stupid foreign prince-"
They all jumped as the King's hand slammed onto the tabletop with a bang. He stood up, glaring at the lot of them until Kristin weakly slid back into her seat, "This has to stop. I have spoiled and coddled, against my better judgment, and this is the thanks I get? Five heirs and not a single one of you shows your mother or I any respect." He pointed fiercely at Ryan, "As for you, it's none of your business what the suitors are saying, from this moment on. I'LL pick your husband, how about that? And you'll marry him without complaint."
Ryan's face flushed, "But, father-"
"Don't talk back to me!" The King roared, shaking his finger at Ryan, "I make the decisions in this palace and YOU-"
"But father!" Ryan stood up as well, "I-"
"Watch your step!" The King's voice easily boomed over Ryan's, "I may be trying to marry you, but that won't stop me from putting you in exile!"
Ryan felt everything bubble up in him and he stood up suddenly, knocking his chair over, "FINE!" Turning to his siblings, he shoved the entire table, rattling the china and toppling most of the glasses, as well as the flower arrangements, "Are you happy?! You ruined EVERYTHING!" Shoving the table once more, so that several glasses slid off and shattered, he kicked his chair out of the way and stormed out of the room.
- - -
By lunch, a heavy rain had begun to fall outside the palace, and Ryan had to put on his heaviest cloak to go outside. He headed straight for his favorite spot, the fountain, and perching on the side, he stared into the eyes of the goddesses and sighed.
With his hood up, the sound of the rain was softened, along with everything else, and he didn't hear the crunch of approaching footsteps at all until a hand laid on his shoulder.
Whipping around, he found himself staring into the shadows of a heavy black cloak, "Is there a particular reason why you are sitting in the rain?"
Ryan sighed, tipping his face down so that Red Suit couldn't see his expression, "What are you doing out here?"
"We're supposed to be listening to a speech about all your talents and virtues in the grand hall." He smiled, "So I thought I'd take my dog for a walk. But your cloak is white. Hard to miss."
Ryan gathered only one thing, "Dog?"
"Yes." Red Suit drew one side of his cloak aside, revealing a short, tan little bulldog.
Ryan slid off the fountainside and onto his knees, unconcerned about the mud getting all over his cloak, and picked up the little dog. It was heavier than expected, thanks to a generous layer of fat all around it, and he snuggled it under his cloak.
Red Suit crouched in the mud, watching him, "His name's Herman."
Ryan raised his eyes from the dog, meeting the gaze of his suitor, "And what's your name?"
He smiled, "Michael."
"Michael." Ryan bit back a smile, "You gave me the horse."
He nodded slightly, "I did."
Ryan set Herman down, not noticing the way the dog stayed burrowed under the folds of his cloak, "I don't get to choose my own... husband, you know."
"I know."
Ryan made eye contact, trying to figure out what he was thinking, "Then why are you courting me, when you should be in the great hall courting my father, like everybody else?"
Michael smiled, "Because I have no need of hearing all your virtues and talents from another source when I would rather hear them from you."
Ryan's cheeks flushed, "That's not a very good strategy..."
"Isn't it?" He stood, reaching down to help Ryan up by the hand, "They're all inside, listening to a detailed account of each of your hunts, while I'm outside, with the prize in question." He didn't drop Ryan's hand, "Let's go in the stable. You can tell me how the horse rode."
Ryan blushed, looking down at their hands. It was the first time anyone outside his siblings had ever held his hand. Biting the inside of his cheek, he led Michael towards the stables, stepping carefully so that Herman could walk under the safety of his cloak.
When they reached them, Michael released his hand and pushed back his own hood, striding quickly over to Comet and reaching out to pat his neck. Ryan stayed put near the stable door, watching as Michael's fat little dog waddled after its master.
"How was the ride?"
Ryan flexed the fingers of the hand Michael had held beneath the cover of his cloak, "Fine. I enjoyed it very much."
"I have one just like him at home..." Michael turned, reaching out for Ryan, "Come, I want to show you something."
Ryan hesitated a split second, then stepped forward, lifting his hand to rest it in Michael's.
"Can you mount without help?"
"Without a saddle?"
Michael's eyes flashed with interest, "Have you ever ridden bareback?"
Ryan flushed red beneath his hood, "No. We don't do that sort of thing here."
"Why not?" Michael's face was hard to read, "There's some discomfort at first, but it's enjoyable after that."
Ryan was glad for the shadows of his hood as his face reddened.
"Here. I'll lift you, if you'll swing your leg over." Michael's hands rested lightly on Ryan's hips until he'd nodded, then tightened their hold. He lifted him rather suddenly, but Ryan managed to swing his leg over the back of the horse, bracing himself with his hands on Michael's shoulders before lowering himself down.
"I like to ride bareback when I'm riding for enjoyment."
Ryan felt the need to repeat himself, "We don't do such things here."
Michael's keen gaze came to rest on him, "That's because, for all the spoiling of your parents, you've led a very restricted life."
"What do you mean?" Ryan held out his hand and was happy when Michael reached up and helped him down.
"What would you say if I told you that I didn't even know I was a prince until I was twelve years old?"
"I would say I was sorry." Michael's hand came up to touch the rim of Ryan's hood, and he blushed, glad that his face was still hidden for the moment.
"Why would you be sorry?"
"I've only ever been a prince, but I've been happy this way. So I would be sorry that you weren't happy, too."
"Who said I was unhappy?" Michael was silent for a beat, appearing to study Ryan's shadowed face, "You're very beautiful."
"Thank you."
Appearing to make a decision, Michael pushed Ryan's hood back, revealing his face to the light, "I'm going to kiss you."
Ryan blushed, "You're not supposed to."
Michael smiled slightly, just a twist of the lips, "I'm going to anyway." Then, still smiling, he tilted his face down and pressed his lips to Ryan's.
It was Ryan's first kiss, and he held his breath in in surprise, going tense until Michael pulled back.
"I want to be your husband." Michael ran his hand along Ryan's cheek.
Ryan felt all the blood rush to his face. He couldn't think of a single response to that.
"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," Michael ran his eyes over Ryan's face hungrily.
"Is that the only reason why you like me?"
"No. I like you because you can be cruel, mean-spirited, and rude." He leaned in slightly, "I also like you because I find something about you incredibly fresh."
"Fresh?"
"All the royalty I've met has been increasingly dull. And then I get here and ask you to dance and you stomp on my foot."
"I'm not sorry."
"I know you're not. I'm not sorry I kissed you."
"You stole my first kiss."
"Do you want it back?"
Ryan stared at him, unaware that his breathing was heavier than usual, "Yes."
The second kiss was better than the first. Michael's hands held his hips firmly, and Ryan felt himself leaning into it, arms coming up to wrap around Michael's neck. He knew, of course, that he wasn't supposed to be letting anybody kiss him. He was supposed to be completely chaste until marriage, biding his time until someone came along to pop his cherry and combine their estates all at once.
At the thought, he pulled away, yanking his hood up to cover his face, "We shouldn't. You shouldn't."
Michael pressed closer, letting their bodies touch, "Your father will let me have you. We're a good match."
Ryan tried to calm his breathing, "How so?"
Michael cocked his head slightly to one side, "In five months, I'll be czar."
- - -
Back in the palace, Ryan hugged his cloak close, tracking mud across the entrance hall and up the stairs. When he reached his chambers, he summoned maids to run his bath, then sent all his servants out, appointing his manservant to stand guard and make sure he was left alone.
In the privacy of the bath, he allowed himself to daydream of a marriage to the Russian. Not of romance, but the honeymoon. He could see himself, laying in the royal bed, watching his King walk over to the bedside and, smiling slightly, climb in next to him.
Unbidden, his dream changed abruptly to an image of him riding Michael bareback, so to speak, in the bed. His dick hardened at the thought alone, and he unconsciously reached down to rub it, making a soft sound in the back of his throat.
In his imagination, he could plainly see Michael's hands on his hips, taking him from behind, bent over the writing desk in his bedroom, fucking him so hard that his moans woke up the whole house. Or maybe they would make love against the wall of the throne room, or on the dining room table, or on the floor in the entrance hall, too desperate to wait any longer.
Wrapping his hand tightly around the shaft of his dick, Ryan stroked himself slowly, moaning softly at the mental image of Michael fucking him roughly on the marble floor. He could almost hear his own soft cries as Michael thrusted into him, pinning Ryan's wrists to the floor and grunting with the effort. It would be rough, and hard, and utterly satisfying. The kind of sex he imagined would leave him walking funny for days.
Moaning again, Ryan arched his back in the tub, stroking himself faster. He could imagine the exact snap of Michael's hips, and the way his body would glisten with sweat. He could hear his deep, satisfied moans and feel his hot breath as he panted. His hand moved faster and his muscles tensed.
In his mind, Michael would fuck him harder than anyone else ever could, going deep and hitting just the right spots. Ryan's toes would curl and his back would arch and he would scream with pleasure as Michael pounded into him until finally, finally, Michael would orgasm hard. He would groan loudly, pressing in deep, and Ryan would follow right after him a second later, moaning his name as he came.
"Oh, Michael!" Ryan squeezed himself, moaning deeply. He felt the spurt of hot cum into his hand and onto his stomach and then he relaxed, sinking back into the warm water and panting softly.
It had been a long time since he'd fantasized. It was the type of thing that was hard to find time for, as a royal. He was scarcely ever alone, and it was pure luck that his temper tantrum at breakfast had allowed for him to clear out the help without question. Now, soaking in the dirty water, he could only think of one thing.
"I need to get married."
Pairing: RLochte/?
Fandom: RPF Olympic
Rating: NC-17; masturbation
Warnings: Real person fiction; Real person slash;
Summary: Royalty AU; A royal prince seeks a suitable bachelor.
Notes: 2007 words
The next morning over breakfast, Ryan stared into his omelet, "Your Majesty..." He avoided the eyes of his siblings, "Has any one of the suitors... asked about me?"
The King merely glanced at him, "All of the suitors have asked about you."
Ryan poked at his omelet with his fork, trying to hide his disappointment, "Oh."
Devon scowled, "Why do you care, anyway?"
"Yeah," Megan chimed in, frowning as well, "You don't need a husband."
The Queen inhaled sharply, setting down her water glass, "Megan!"
"Well, he doesn't! It's just fine with all of us here together."
Ryan intercepted before his mother could, "That's not going to change."
Kristin pushed her chair back, standing up, "Yes it is! If you marry some stupid foreign prince-"
They all jumped as the King's hand slammed onto the tabletop with a bang. He stood up, glaring at the lot of them until Kristin weakly slid back into her seat, "This has to stop. I have spoiled and coddled, against my better judgment, and this is the thanks I get? Five heirs and not a single one of you shows your mother or I any respect." He pointed fiercely at Ryan, "As for you, it's none of your business what the suitors are saying, from this moment on. I'LL pick your husband, how about that? And you'll marry him without complaint."
Ryan's face flushed, "But, father-"
"Don't talk back to me!" The King roared, shaking his finger at Ryan, "I make the decisions in this palace and YOU-"
"But father!" Ryan stood up as well, "I-"
"Watch your step!" The King's voice easily boomed over Ryan's, "I may be trying to marry you, but that won't stop me from putting you in exile!"
Ryan felt everything bubble up in him and he stood up suddenly, knocking his chair over, "FINE!" Turning to his siblings, he shoved the entire table, rattling the china and toppling most of the glasses, as well as the flower arrangements, "Are you happy?! You ruined EVERYTHING!" Shoving the table once more, so that several glasses slid off and shattered, he kicked his chair out of the way and stormed out of the room.
- - -
By lunch, a heavy rain had begun to fall outside the palace, and Ryan had to put on his heaviest cloak to go outside. He headed straight for his favorite spot, the fountain, and perching on the side, he stared into the eyes of the goddesses and sighed.
With his hood up, the sound of the rain was softened, along with everything else, and he didn't hear the crunch of approaching footsteps at all until a hand laid on his shoulder.
Whipping around, he found himself staring into the shadows of a heavy black cloak, "Is there a particular reason why you are sitting in the rain?"
Ryan sighed, tipping his face down so that Red Suit couldn't see his expression, "What are you doing out here?"
"We're supposed to be listening to a speech about all your talents and virtues in the grand hall." He smiled, "So I thought I'd take my dog for a walk. But your cloak is white. Hard to miss."
Ryan gathered only one thing, "Dog?"
"Yes." Red Suit drew one side of his cloak aside, revealing a short, tan little bulldog.
Ryan slid off the fountainside and onto his knees, unconcerned about the mud getting all over his cloak, and picked up the little dog. It was heavier than expected, thanks to a generous layer of fat all around it, and he snuggled it under his cloak.
Red Suit crouched in the mud, watching him, "His name's Herman."
Ryan raised his eyes from the dog, meeting the gaze of his suitor, "And what's your name?"
He smiled, "Michael."
"Michael." Ryan bit back a smile, "You gave me the horse."
He nodded slightly, "I did."
Ryan set Herman down, not noticing the way the dog stayed burrowed under the folds of his cloak, "I don't get to choose my own... husband, you know."
"I know."
Ryan made eye contact, trying to figure out what he was thinking, "Then why are you courting me, when you should be in the great hall courting my father, like everybody else?"
Michael smiled, "Because I have no need of hearing all your virtues and talents from another source when I would rather hear them from you."
Ryan's cheeks flushed, "That's not a very good strategy..."
"Isn't it?" He stood, reaching down to help Ryan up by the hand, "They're all inside, listening to a detailed account of each of your hunts, while I'm outside, with the prize in question." He didn't drop Ryan's hand, "Let's go in the stable. You can tell me how the horse rode."
Ryan blushed, looking down at their hands. It was the first time anyone outside his siblings had ever held his hand. Biting the inside of his cheek, he led Michael towards the stables, stepping carefully so that Herman could walk under the safety of his cloak.
When they reached them, Michael released his hand and pushed back his own hood, striding quickly over to Comet and reaching out to pat his neck. Ryan stayed put near the stable door, watching as Michael's fat little dog waddled after its master.
"How was the ride?"
Ryan flexed the fingers of the hand Michael had held beneath the cover of his cloak, "Fine. I enjoyed it very much."
"I have one just like him at home..." Michael turned, reaching out for Ryan, "Come, I want to show you something."
Ryan hesitated a split second, then stepped forward, lifting his hand to rest it in Michael's.
"Can you mount without help?"
"Without a saddle?"
Michael's eyes flashed with interest, "Have you ever ridden bareback?"
Ryan flushed red beneath his hood, "No. We don't do that sort of thing here."
"Why not?" Michael's face was hard to read, "There's some discomfort at first, but it's enjoyable after that."
Ryan was glad for the shadows of his hood as his face reddened.
"Here. I'll lift you, if you'll swing your leg over." Michael's hands rested lightly on Ryan's hips until he'd nodded, then tightened their hold. He lifted him rather suddenly, but Ryan managed to swing his leg over the back of the horse, bracing himself with his hands on Michael's shoulders before lowering himself down.
"I like to ride bareback when I'm riding for enjoyment."
Ryan felt the need to repeat himself, "We don't do such things here."
Michael's keen gaze came to rest on him, "That's because, for all the spoiling of your parents, you've led a very restricted life."
"What do you mean?" Ryan held out his hand and was happy when Michael reached up and helped him down.
"What would you say if I told you that I didn't even know I was a prince until I was twelve years old?"
"I would say I was sorry." Michael's hand came up to touch the rim of Ryan's hood, and he blushed, glad that his face was still hidden for the moment.
"Why would you be sorry?"
"I've only ever been a prince, but I've been happy this way. So I would be sorry that you weren't happy, too."
"Who said I was unhappy?" Michael was silent for a beat, appearing to study Ryan's shadowed face, "You're very beautiful."
"Thank you."
Appearing to make a decision, Michael pushed Ryan's hood back, revealing his face to the light, "I'm going to kiss you."
Ryan blushed, "You're not supposed to."
Michael smiled slightly, just a twist of the lips, "I'm going to anyway." Then, still smiling, he tilted his face down and pressed his lips to Ryan's.
It was Ryan's first kiss, and he held his breath in in surprise, going tense until Michael pulled back.
"I want to be your husband." Michael ran his hand along Ryan's cheek.
Ryan felt all the blood rush to his face. He couldn't think of a single response to that.
"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," Michael ran his eyes over Ryan's face hungrily.
"Is that the only reason why you like me?"
"No. I like you because you can be cruel, mean-spirited, and rude." He leaned in slightly, "I also like you because I find something about you incredibly fresh."
"Fresh?"
"All the royalty I've met has been increasingly dull. And then I get here and ask you to dance and you stomp on my foot."
"I'm not sorry."
"I know you're not. I'm not sorry I kissed you."
"You stole my first kiss."
"Do you want it back?"
Ryan stared at him, unaware that his breathing was heavier than usual, "Yes."
The second kiss was better than the first. Michael's hands held his hips firmly, and Ryan felt himself leaning into it, arms coming up to wrap around Michael's neck. He knew, of course, that he wasn't supposed to be letting anybody kiss him. He was supposed to be completely chaste until marriage, biding his time until someone came along to pop his cherry and combine their estates all at once.
At the thought, he pulled away, yanking his hood up to cover his face, "We shouldn't. You shouldn't."
Michael pressed closer, letting their bodies touch, "Your father will let me have you. We're a good match."
Ryan tried to calm his breathing, "How so?"
Michael cocked his head slightly to one side, "In five months, I'll be czar."
- - -
Back in the palace, Ryan hugged his cloak close, tracking mud across the entrance hall and up the stairs. When he reached his chambers, he summoned maids to run his bath, then sent all his servants out, appointing his manservant to stand guard and make sure he was left alone.
In the privacy of the bath, he allowed himself to daydream of a marriage to the Russian. Not of romance, but the honeymoon. He could see himself, laying in the royal bed, watching his King walk over to the bedside and, smiling slightly, climb in next to him.
Unbidden, his dream changed abruptly to an image of him riding Michael bareback, so to speak, in the bed. His dick hardened at the thought alone, and he unconsciously reached down to rub it, making a soft sound in the back of his throat.
In his imagination, he could plainly see Michael's hands on his hips, taking him from behind, bent over the writing desk in his bedroom, fucking him so hard that his moans woke up the whole house. Or maybe they would make love against the wall of the throne room, or on the dining room table, or on the floor in the entrance hall, too desperate to wait any longer.
Wrapping his hand tightly around the shaft of his dick, Ryan stroked himself slowly, moaning softly at the mental image of Michael fucking him roughly on the marble floor. He could almost hear his own soft cries as Michael thrusted into him, pinning Ryan's wrists to the floor and grunting with the effort. It would be rough, and hard, and utterly satisfying. The kind of sex he imagined would leave him walking funny for days.
Moaning again, Ryan arched his back in the tub, stroking himself faster. He could imagine the exact snap of Michael's hips, and the way his body would glisten with sweat. He could hear his deep, satisfied moans and feel his hot breath as he panted. His hand moved faster and his muscles tensed.
In his mind, Michael would fuck him harder than anyone else ever could, going deep and hitting just the right spots. Ryan's toes would curl and his back would arch and he would scream with pleasure as Michael pounded into him until finally, finally, Michael would orgasm hard. He would groan loudly, pressing in deep, and Ryan would follow right after him a second later, moaning his name as he came.
"Oh, Michael!" Ryan squeezed himself, moaning deeply. He felt the spurt of hot cum into his hand and onto his stomach and then he relaxed, sinking back into the warm water and panting softly.
It had been a long time since he'd fantasized. It was the type of thing that was hard to find time for, as a royal. He was scarcely ever alone, and it was pure luck that his temper tantrum at breakfast had allowed for him to clear out the help without question. Now, soaking in the dirty water, he could only think of one thing.
"I need to get married."