The Heart of Summerlin (4/5)
Masterpost and Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Epilogue | Bonus material
Decaydance Palace was even grander than Brendon remembered it, spreading out in all directions and large enough to make Summerlin seem like a modest cottage. A small entourage of servants met them when they arrived, showing them through endless corridors until they came to a set of rooms in the East wing.
“Are these your rooms?” Brendon asked, following Spencer inside and marvelling at the thick, creamy carpet on the floor and beautiful brocade fabrics covering every conceivable surface.
“Yes,” Spencer said, showing the servants into a room on the left and telling them to make sure all clothes were brushed and straightened impeccably before going in the wardrobe. “I wanted for us to stay at Ryan’s-they’re a great deal bigger than these-but apparently the duke is in town for the season, so it wasn’t possible.”
“The duke?” Brendon asked, brushing his hand over one of the many pillows on a nearby settee.
“Ryan’s father,” Spencer explained, shrugging out of his coat and handing it to a nearby servant. “Not a very pleasant man, I’m afraid, but he almost never attends court functions. We probably won’t even see him on this visit.”
“Oh,” Brendon said, turning his attention to the many paintings on the walls. “So what happens now?”
“I will send a note to the king, informing him of our arrival,” Spencer replied. “And then we’ll await his summons. If I know the king, he’ll keep us in the dark for a little while yet, wanting to observe before making a decision. We’ll probably be expected at dinner tonight.”
“Will it be very formal?” Brendon asked. “I’m not sure the clothes Ryan lent me can be altered in such short a time, and I don’t want to put us at a disadvantage.”
Spencer hesitated for a moment and then walked over to him, pulled him close and pressed a quick kiss to Brendon’s temple. “This is the royal court,” he said, giving Brendon a small smile. “It will be done in time, I promise.”
Brendon nodded weakly, luxuriating in the warmth of Spencer’s hand on his waist before Spencer pulled back.
He couldn’t help but think that everything felt much colder than before.
Spencer closed his bedroom door and walked over to the bed, allowing himself to sprawl for a moment as he closed his eyes and processed everything that had happened during the night.
They had gone to dinner in the main hall, Brendon in Ryan’s altered court finery, which made him fidget more than general nervousness accounted for, and Spencer with a big smile on his face that felt more stale and unnatural every passing minute.
They hadn’t been announced at the door, one of the pages arriving an hour before dinner and telling Spencer that they were to be summoned in front of the king the next day and that, until then, they should keep a low profile so as not to complicate matters. Spencer felt slightly sick at the implication, but acquiesced to the king’s will, keeping Brendon close while maintaining a courteous distance.
Brendon had been unusually quiet, clearly out of his depth and ill at ease with the new situation. He ate very little, and the only time Spencer saw him break into a genuine smile all night was when an unusually talented harp player took to the stage. As the evening went on, it became more and more clear to Spencer how little Brendon actually knew about being part of the high nobility-how a million little things that Spencer had found easy for as long as he could remember were unfamiliar and puzzling to him. Brendon needed a tutor as soon as possible, that much was clear, but something inside Spencer balked at the prospect; the Brendon he’d been getting to know at Summerlin was a breath of fresh air-immediate and artless and so unlike the average courtier. Something purely selfish deep inside Spencer wanted to keep him that way.
His right hand moved to the fourth finger on his left, absently twisting the unfamiliar weight of the gold band sitting there. It had been a last minute addition, an attempt to make their marriage look official and conventional. Brendon had been subconsciously touching his all through dinner, rather negating the intended effect. Spencer sighed.
The sound of the door to the adjacent room opening startled him, making him turn towards the noise. Brendon walked in, hair damp from a bath and dressed only in a nightshirt with one of Spencer’s robes wrapped loosely around him. Before Spencer could speak, Brendon crossed the floor and came to stand by the bed, removing his robe and draping it over a nearby chair before slipping carefully between the sheets.
Spencer pulled in a sharp breath, unable to think of anything to say as Brendon scooted closer.
“If we’re going in front of the king in the morning,” Brendon said uncertainly, pushing himself up higher against the pillows, “maybe we should. I know that it’s probably not what you want, at least not yet, but. If we want this to-maybe we should make sure the marriage is as binding as we can make it.”
He reached into the breast pocket of his night shirt, pulling out a length of familiar lace.
Spencer’s breath caught in his throat. “Are you-”
Brendon answered by pressing the lace carefully into Spencer’s hand, tangling their fingers together and leaning in to press his lips to Spencer’s in a soft, trembling kiss. “I want to stay married to you.”
Spencer felt something tighten painfully in his chest. Familiar feelings of hesitation and guilt sprang up at the back of his mind, but in front of them was the feeling of Brendon’s lips, brushing against Spencer’s and making everything else feel so irrelevant.
Brendon kissed him again, and Spencer felt his resolve give, lips parting of their own accord to beckon Brendon closer. They were going before the king the next day. And while consummating their marriage wouldn’t change much if King Peter truly wanted to dissolve it, it was a strong statement. A statement Brendon wanted to make.
Spencer bit back a moan.
“Me too,” he managed, subconsciously tightening his grip on Brendon’s hand.
“Are you sure?”
Spencer nodded, swallowing past the sudden tightness in his throat. “Yes.”
“Then come here.”
Spencer let out a shaky breath, leaning closer when Brendon pulled him in. Their lips met again, and Spencer felt his head begin to spin as Brendon’s tongue traced the line of his bottom lip, begging Spencer without words to come even closer.
“Give me your hand,” Spencer breathed, rolling them over. He managed to get Brendon on his back, narrowly preventing himself from letting out a groan at the feeling of their bodies pressing together.
Brendon moved with him, arching up into Spencer’s touch before pushing him off again, scrambling into a sitting position and holding out his hand. Spencer followed his lead, rearranging himself until they were face to face, on their knees in the middle of the bed. Spencer took the lace with his right hand, grabbing Brendon’s hand with his left and starting to ease the material down over their knuckles.
“Wait,” Brendon said.
Spencer froze, then started to pull back, uncertain. Brendon stopped him.
“I just meant-” Brendon said, letting go of Spencer’s hand, his face blushing a bright red. “We should probably, um, get rid of our clothes. You know, before.”
A relieved laugh broke from Spencer’s throat, and Brendon echoed him, both of them collapsing against the pillows, laughing until Spencer’s face felt sore with it. Brendon kept a smile on his face as he guided them back up again, reaching out to help Spencer wriggle out of his shirt.
“Can I-” Brendon started, placing a tentative hand on Spencer’s chest. “Do you mind if we-can I touch you? Before we start?”
Spencer wet his lips, nodding even as he reached for Brendon’s face. They met in the middle, pressing together, kissing deeply as Brendon’s hands explored the planes of Spencer’s back. Spencer’s hands, in turn, found their way into Brendon’s hair, loving the way Brendon made little sounds in his throat whenever Spencer brushed over the nape of his neck.
Spencer felt his heart skip a beat as Brendon began to push him back against the bed, hands getting bolder and more inquisitive as they slid down his chest to the drawstring of his trousers. Brendon paused for a moment, biting his lip in indecision and looking up at Spencer uncertainly. Spencer’s head was spinning, sudden possibilities of what Brendon might do to him-might want to do to him-making him lose his breath completely. He must have managed some sort of gesture, however, because Brendon smiled at him and ducked his head, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Spencer’s stomach. His fingers followed his mouth, light, hesitant touches that gradually moved lower, finally reaching the knot at Spencer’s waistband and pulling it free, easing the material down with maddening slowness.
Spencer arched into the touch, eyelashes fluttering as the trousers were pulled off, leaving him exposed in the centre of the bed. Brendon kissed his way down his stomach and over to his hip, grazing his teeth over Spencer’s hipbone and drawing an embarrassingly loud sound from him.
“God, Brendon.”
Brendon looked up at him, eyes dazed and darker than Spencer had ever seen them before. “Is this okay?” He pressed another kiss to the top of Spencer’s hip, opening his mouth a little to suck at the spot. Spencer’s eyes rolled back in his head.
Spencer gave himself a mental shake, trying to think past how close Brendon’s mouth was to his dick and managed to roll them over, pushing Brendon up against the pillows and reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Come here. Lift up for me?”
Brendon did as he was told, sitting up and raising his arms. Spencer fumbled with the first few buttons before finally getting the shirt loose enough to comfortably pull it off him, having to stop a few times on the way to claim another kiss from Brendon’s mouth.
The fabric slid away from Brendon easily, revealing Brendon’s smile and mussed hair. Spencer, so used to quelling the urge to run his fingers through Brendon’s hair, indulged himself, burying his hands in it and bringing Brendon closer, kissing him until they were both breathless.
“Wait,” Brendon panted softly. He shakily reached for the robe he’d folded, delving into its pocket to withdraw a small bottle of oil. “My brother. When I came of age, he gave me one of these. Told me that when I got married, it would come in useful.”
He looked up at Spencer, a fresh blush spreading down his neck. Spencer felt himself echo it.
He took the bottle from Brendon and uncorked it, pouring some of the liquid into his palm before setting the bottle on the bedside table. He reached for Brendon’s hand.
The oil warmed quickly between their fingers, and Spencer shivered as Brendon caressed first one finger and then a second, smoothing the oil over Spencer’s skin. He leaned forward, kissing Spencer’s mouth, his jaw, behind his ear, before letting his hand fall, gripping Spencer’s erection for the first time.
Spencer gasped as the slick heat of Brendon’s hand slid over him, shuddering as Brendon varied his pace, trying out different grips and searching for things that made Spencer tremble. He reached for Brendon, bringing his face close and kissing him fiercely, suddenly in desperate need of something to anchor him as Brendon’s hand sped up, coaxing almost unbearable pleasure from Spencer’s body.
“Right,” Brendon said breathlessly, when Spencer was sure he couldn’t take much more, leaning in to kiss Spencer again before manhandling him into a sitting position. “Scoot up a little. Give me your hand.”
He turned his back, shifting closer until he was practically in Spencer’s lap. Spencer blinked, not understanding what he was after, until he suddenly did and heat surged through him all over again. He pulled his legs in underneath himself, reaching out and wrapping his left arm around Brendon’s waist, stifling a groan as Brendon’s ass rubbed up against his aching dick.
Brendon pulled in a sharp breath and reached for the lace, tangling the fingers of his left hand with Spencer’s and pulling the beautiful material down over both of them, craning his neck to kiss Spencer over his shoulder as they felt the lace settle into place, tightening around their wrists.
“I-” Brendon whispered, tightening his fingers around Spencer’s until it was almost painful. “Do you-? I don’t-”
Spencer buried his face against Brendon’s neck, fighting to keep in control. His body was telling him where it wanted to go, but something inside his head made him hesitate. He put his free hand on Brendon’s hip, feeling it skate wetly across the skin. He traced a line along the curve of Brendon’s ass experimentally, drawing a sharp breath as Brendon pushed himself up to get closer. Spencer watched, fascinated, as his fingers moved lower, then lower still, until he brushed against something and Brendon let out a moan.
“There. I think-just-Spencer, please.”
Spencer closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the top of Brendon’s back to keep himself together. He pushed with one finger, moving it carefully deeper until it was all the way inside. Brendon threw his head back, panting.
“Again.”
Spencer bit his lip in concentration and tried to repeat what he’d just done, sliding his finger out carefully and pushing it back in. Brendon urged him on wordlessly, pushing his hips back, setting the pace as Spencer added a second finger, then a third until they were both rocking together, Brendon turning into an incoherent, moaning mess in his arms.
“Now,” Brendon said, pulling his hips away from Spencer’s and angling his head back, searching for Spencer’s mouth. “Can we, please? Now?”
Spencer nodded fervently, capturing Brendon’s mouth with his as he reached between them and lined himself up. Brendon pressed back, moaning low in his throat when they got the angle right and Spencer felt himself slip inside.
He ducked his head, pressing his face firmly against Brendon’s neck as he slid deeper, feeling Brendon surround him and take him in, gripping Spencer’s hand tightly as they moved together, rocking against each other in small, careful movements until Spencer was in to the hilt.
He started to move his hips, unable to help himself. His other arm went around Brendon’s chest, holding him impossibly close as he pulled almost all the way out. Brendon’s grip around his hand tightened, head falling back against Spencer’s shoulder and a low drawn-out moan breaking from his lips as Spencer pushed back inside.
“Fuck,” Brendon gasped, biting his lip. His free hand, still warm and slightly damp with oil, pressed into Spencer’s thigh, gripping so tightly that Spencer was sure there would be bruises in the morning. He pressed himself harder into Spencer’s lap, and Spencer responded by tightening his hold on him.
“Stay still a moment,” he mumbled into Brendon’s neck, gently guiding Brendon forward until they were both on their knees with Brendon supporting himself on his right hand, Spencer still lined up along his back.
Spencer withdrew again, then pushed forward quickly. This time, Brendon keened, his left hand desperately holding onto Spencer’s as his right hand scrambled for purchase. “Yes, Christ, yes. Spencer.”
Brendon’s spine arched prettily in the lamplight, and Spencer slid his free hand down his back, forefinger tracing the shadows cast on his skin.
Together, they found a new pace, one of push and pull, faster then slower, quick snaps of the hips followed by long, languid thrusts until Spencer could barely think straight and Brendon was babbling incoherently.
When Spencer’s hand finally found its way to Brendon’s dick, curling around it and gripping it firmly, Brendon’s arm gave, and his face pressed into the sheets as he gasped.
Spencer kissed the space between Brendon’s shoulder blades and twisted his hand as he slid deep into Brendon again, and Brendon came on a hitched groan, warm liquid pooling into Spencer’s hand. His body tightened in its climax, incredibly so, and Spencer’s vision went white for a second as he followed Brendon over the edge.
They stayed like that for a moment, Spencer pressed all along Brendon’s back and Brendon breathing heavily into the tousled sheets. At last, Brendon’s hand squeezed his, and Spencer noticed for the first time that the lace surrounding their hands was tingling slightly, just as it had when they’d first been married.
“Up,” Brendon said, and Spencer complied, carefully bringing Brendon up with him. They eased the lace off their joined hands, and Spencer noted with relief that it had turned a deep gold colour, similar to the new rings on their fingers.
“It worked. Look.”
Brendon took the lace from him and ran it through his fingers, eyes sparkling. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”
Spencer felt something constrict in his chest, the familiar surge of guilt receding in the face of Brendon’s smile. Brendon yawned, unsuccessfully trying to smother it with his hand before leaning back against Spencer.
Spencer smiled. “Tired?”
Brendon nodded sleepily, allowing Spencer to coax him beneath the comforter. Spencer moved in close, not thinking about the fact that Brendon had his own bed, which he might prefer given that they’d thoroughly ruined the sheets. Brendon was warm and pliable next to him, and judging by the quiet, steady breaths coming from him as soon as his head hit the pillows, Spencer figured Brendon wasn’t exactly unhappy with where he’d ended up.
The first thing Brendon became aware of when he woke up the next morning was that his left arm was twisted above his head in a weird angle, pins and needles shooting through it painfully. He looked up; Spencer’s hand was still covering his. Brendon smiled and turned around, keeping their hands together while carefully bringing their arms down until they were resting in a more comfortable position.
Next to him, Spencer was still sleeping. Brendon smiled again, memories from the previous night replaying in his mind.
He moved the sheet back a little, taking the time to really look at his husband for the first time. Last night, he hadn’t had time to take everything in-losing the details in the overwhelming wave of impressions and feelings that had all seemed to pull at his attention at once.
He put his hand on Spencer’s chest-stroking lightly, so as not to wake him-and let himself just soak everything in. Spencer’s skin was fair and smooth, pulled tight over the flat of his stomach and sprinkled with hair that started at his belly button and disappeared in a dark trail under the edge of the sheet. Brendon moved his hand lower, letting it follow the trail out of sight and unable to repress a shudder when the side of his palm came up against warm, smooth flesh.
Careful not to make any sudden movements, Brendon pushed the sheet down a little more and moved his hand to lightly circle the base of Spencer’s dick. It was already more than half-hard-same as Brendon’s when he woke up in the morning-and as Brendon started to move his hand, he could see it fill out even more, growing under his fingers while Brendon watched, fascinated.
He moved his hand a little faster, trying out things he’d discovered on himself in guilty moments growing up, and biting down around a moan when he moved the pad of his thumb over the head and felt a bead of wetness there, begging to be spread around.
Spencer moved in his sleep, making a warbled sound, and Brendon stiffened, starting to carefully remove his hand.
Spencer stopped him.
Brendon looked up, blushing furiously. Spencer was looking back at him with dark eyes, breathing uneven as he tightened his grip on Brendon’s wrist.
“Don’t stop.”
Brendon let out a shaky breath and did as told, moaning when Spencer urged his hand to move faster. He leaned in for a kiss, grateful when Spencer met him half-way, letting go of Brendon’s wrist to grab his hip and pull them flush together. One of his thighs came up, and Brendon parted his legs eagerly, groaning into Spencer’s mouth as the thigh started rocking against him.
They didn’t last long, collapsing half on top of each other in a sticky mess of tangled limbs a lot sooner than either of them would have wanted. The kisses eventually slowed down to something sleepy and uncoordinated, and Brendon was just contemplating dozing off again when there was a firm knock on the door to the outer chamber.
He groaned softly, letting go of Spencer’s hand before pulling on the robe he’d worn the night before and forcing himself from the comfort of the warm bed.
He quickly ran his fingers through his hair and cleared his throat, trying not to look as obviously sated as he felt. By the look on the messenger’s face when he finally opened the door, he’d failed spectacularly.
“From King Peter, my lord,” the messenger mumbled, bowing as he handed Brendon an envelope and hastily left.
Seeing the elegant scrawl of King Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III on the front of the letter set a tight knot in Brendon’s stomach. He broke the wax seal and skimmed over the content as he walked back into the bed chamber.
“What does it say?”
Brendon looked up from the letter, smiling tightly at Spencer, who was sitting up in bed, the sheets pooling around his waist. “We’re to go before the king at noon.”
Spencer nodded, the peaceful smile he’d had on his face when Brendon had left him gone. “Good. Let’s get ready, then. We should have all of this settled by dinner.”
Brendon couldn’t help but think that something in Spencer’s voice didn’t sound as sure as he was pretending to be.
They stayed in their chambers until it was time to go. Mentally preparing themselves, Spencer wanted to call it, but if he was to be honest with himself, the real reason was closer to hiding.
A group of servants brought them breakfast and prepared their clothes, bustling around them as they sat on opposite ends of a table made for eight, trying to keep a normal conversation going.
“I was talking to Zack the other day,” Brendon said. “He said the crops are growing really well. Looks like we’ll have a good harvest.”
Spencer nodded, buttering a piece of bread to have something to do with his hands. “The orchards are looking exceptionally well, too. We’ll have apples and plums before long.”
“Good. That’s good.”
Spencer took a sip of his tea, glancing at the clock on the wall out of the corner of his eyes. Still two hours to go.
On the opposite end of the table, he saw Brendon do the same, before putting down his napkin and getting to his feet. “I’m going to take a bath.”
“Okay,” Spencer said. “I think the servants already brought water. It should be ready for you.”
Brendon hesitated for a moment, biting his lip. “It’s a big tub.”
Spencer swallowed, a now familiar heat starting to pool in his stomach. “It is.”
Brendon tilted his head, as though to say, then come here already. Spencer gestured to one of the servants to start clearing the table and got to his feet, following Brendon into the next room.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Epilogue | Bonus material
Decaydance Palace was even grander than Brendon remembered it, spreading out in all directions and large enough to make Summerlin seem like a modest cottage. A small entourage of servants met them when they arrived, showing them through endless corridors until they came to a set of rooms in the East wing.
“Are these your rooms?” Brendon asked, following Spencer inside and marvelling at the thick, creamy carpet on the floor and beautiful brocade fabrics covering every conceivable surface.
“Yes,” Spencer said, showing the servants into a room on the left and telling them to make sure all clothes were brushed and straightened impeccably before going in the wardrobe. “I wanted for us to stay at Ryan’s-they’re a great deal bigger than these-but apparently the duke is in town for the season, so it wasn’t possible.”
“The duke?” Brendon asked, brushing his hand over one of the many pillows on a nearby settee.
“Ryan’s father,” Spencer explained, shrugging out of his coat and handing it to a nearby servant. “Not a very pleasant man, I’m afraid, but he almost never attends court functions. We probably won’t even see him on this visit.”
“Oh,” Brendon said, turning his attention to the many paintings on the walls. “So what happens now?”
“I will send a note to the king, informing him of our arrival,” Spencer replied. “And then we’ll await his summons. If I know the king, he’ll keep us in the dark for a little while yet, wanting to observe before making a decision. We’ll probably be expected at dinner tonight.”
“Will it be very formal?” Brendon asked. “I’m not sure the clothes Ryan lent me can be altered in such short a time, and I don’t want to put us at a disadvantage.”
Spencer hesitated for a moment and then walked over to him, pulled him close and pressed a quick kiss to Brendon’s temple. “This is the royal court,” he said, giving Brendon a small smile. “It will be done in time, I promise.”
Brendon nodded weakly, luxuriating in the warmth of Spencer’s hand on his waist before Spencer pulled back.
He couldn’t help but think that everything felt much colder than before.
Spencer closed his bedroom door and walked over to the bed, allowing himself to sprawl for a moment as he closed his eyes and processed everything that had happened during the night.
They had gone to dinner in the main hall, Brendon in Ryan’s altered court finery, which made him fidget more than general nervousness accounted for, and Spencer with a big smile on his face that felt more stale and unnatural every passing minute.
They hadn’t been announced at the door, one of the pages arriving an hour before dinner and telling Spencer that they were to be summoned in front of the king the next day and that, until then, they should keep a low profile so as not to complicate matters. Spencer felt slightly sick at the implication, but acquiesced to the king’s will, keeping Brendon close while maintaining a courteous distance.
Brendon had been unusually quiet, clearly out of his depth and ill at ease with the new situation. He ate very little, and the only time Spencer saw him break into a genuine smile all night was when an unusually talented harp player took to the stage. As the evening went on, it became more and more clear to Spencer how little Brendon actually knew about being part of the high nobility-how a million little things that Spencer had found easy for as long as he could remember were unfamiliar and puzzling to him. Brendon needed a tutor as soon as possible, that much was clear, but something inside Spencer balked at the prospect; the Brendon he’d been getting to know at Summerlin was a breath of fresh air-immediate and artless and so unlike the average courtier. Something purely selfish deep inside Spencer wanted to keep him that way.
His right hand moved to the fourth finger on his left, absently twisting the unfamiliar weight of the gold band sitting there. It had been a last minute addition, an attempt to make their marriage look official and conventional. Brendon had been subconsciously touching his all through dinner, rather negating the intended effect. Spencer sighed.
The sound of the door to the adjacent room opening startled him, making him turn towards the noise. Brendon walked in, hair damp from a bath and dressed only in a nightshirt with one of Spencer’s robes wrapped loosely around him. Before Spencer could speak, Brendon crossed the floor and came to stand by the bed, removing his robe and draping it over a nearby chair before slipping carefully between the sheets.
Spencer pulled in a sharp breath, unable to think of anything to say as Brendon scooted closer.
“If we’re going in front of the king in the morning,” Brendon said uncertainly, pushing himself up higher against the pillows, “maybe we should. I know that it’s probably not what you want, at least not yet, but. If we want this to-maybe we should make sure the marriage is as binding as we can make it.”
He reached into the breast pocket of his night shirt, pulling out a length of familiar lace.
Spencer’s breath caught in his throat. “Are you-”
Brendon answered by pressing the lace carefully into Spencer’s hand, tangling their fingers together and leaning in to press his lips to Spencer’s in a soft, trembling kiss. “I want to stay married to you.”
Spencer felt something tighten painfully in his chest. Familiar feelings of hesitation and guilt sprang up at the back of his mind, but in front of them was the feeling of Brendon’s lips, brushing against Spencer’s and making everything else feel so irrelevant.
Brendon kissed him again, and Spencer felt his resolve give, lips parting of their own accord to beckon Brendon closer. They were going before the king the next day. And while consummating their marriage wouldn’t change much if King Peter truly wanted to dissolve it, it was a strong statement. A statement Brendon wanted to make.
Spencer bit back a moan.
“Me too,” he managed, subconsciously tightening his grip on Brendon’s hand.
“Are you sure?”
Spencer nodded, swallowing past the sudden tightness in his throat. “Yes.”
“Then come here.”
Spencer let out a shaky breath, leaning closer when Brendon pulled him in. Their lips met again, and Spencer felt his head begin to spin as Brendon’s tongue traced the line of his bottom lip, begging Spencer without words to come even closer.
“Give me your hand,” Spencer breathed, rolling them over. He managed to get Brendon on his back, narrowly preventing himself from letting out a groan at the feeling of their bodies pressing together.
Brendon moved with him, arching up into Spencer’s touch before pushing him off again, scrambling into a sitting position and holding out his hand. Spencer followed his lead, rearranging himself until they were face to face, on their knees in the middle of the bed. Spencer took the lace with his right hand, grabbing Brendon’s hand with his left and starting to ease the material down over their knuckles.
“Wait,” Brendon said.
Spencer froze, then started to pull back, uncertain. Brendon stopped him.
“I just meant-” Brendon said, letting go of Spencer’s hand, his face blushing a bright red. “We should probably, um, get rid of our clothes. You know, before.”
A relieved laugh broke from Spencer’s throat, and Brendon echoed him, both of them collapsing against the pillows, laughing until Spencer’s face felt sore with it. Brendon kept a smile on his face as he guided them back up again, reaching out to help Spencer wriggle out of his shirt.
“Can I-” Brendon started, placing a tentative hand on Spencer’s chest. “Do you mind if we-can I touch you? Before we start?”
Spencer wet his lips, nodding even as he reached for Brendon’s face. They met in the middle, pressing together, kissing deeply as Brendon’s hands explored the planes of Spencer’s back. Spencer’s hands, in turn, found their way into Brendon’s hair, loving the way Brendon made little sounds in his throat whenever Spencer brushed over the nape of his neck.
Spencer felt his heart skip a beat as Brendon began to push him back against the bed, hands getting bolder and more inquisitive as they slid down his chest to the drawstring of his trousers. Brendon paused for a moment, biting his lip in indecision and looking up at Spencer uncertainly. Spencer’s head was spinning, sudden possibilities of what Brendon might do to him-might want to do to him-making him lose his breath completely. He must have managed some sort of gesture, however, because Brendon smiled at him and ducked his head, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Spencer’s stomach. His fingers followed his mouth, light, hesitant touches that gradually moved lower, finally reaching the knot at Spencer’s waistband and pulling it free, easing the material down with maddening slowness.
Spencer arched into the touch, eyelashes fluttering as the trousers were pulled off, leaving him exposed in the centre of the bed. Brendon kissed his way down his stomach and over to his hip, grazing his teeth over Spencer’s hipbone and drawing an embarrassingly loud sound from him.
“God, Brendon.”
Brendon looked up at him, eyes dazed and darker than Spencer had ever seen them before. “Is this okay?” He pressed another kiss to the top of Spencer’s hip, opening his mouth a little to suck at the spot. Spencer’s eyes rolled back in his head.
Spencer gave himself a mental shake, trying to think past how close Brendon’s mouth was to his dick and managed to roll them over, pushing Brendon up against the pillows and reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Come here. Lift up for me?”
Brendon did as he was told, sitting up and raising his arms. Spencer fumbled with the first few buttons before finally getting the shirt loose enough to comfortably pull it off him, having to stop a few times on the way to claim another kiss from Brendon’s mouth.
The fabric slid away from Brendon easily, revealing Brendon’s smile and mussed hair. Spencer, so used to quelling the urge to run his fingers through Brendon’s hair, indulged himself, burying his hands in it and bringing Brendon closer, kissing him until they were both breathless.
“Wait,” Brendon panted softly. He shakily reached for the robe he’d folded, delving into its pocket to withdraw a small bottle of oil. “My brother. When I came of age, he gave me one of these. Told me that when I got married, it would come in useful.”
He looked up at Spencer, a fresh blush spreading down his neck. Spencer felt himself echo it.
He took the bottle from Brendon and uncorked it, pouring some of the liquid into his palm before setting the bottle on the bedside table. He reached for Brendon’s hand.
The oil warmed quickly between their fingers, and Spencer shivered as Brendon caressed first one finger and then a second, smoothing the oil over Spencer’s skin. He leaned forward, kissing Spencer’s mouth, his jaw, behind his ear, before letting his hand fall, gripping Spencer’s erection for the first time.
Spencer gasped as the slick heat of Brendon’s hand slid over him, shuddering as Brendon varied his pace, trying out different grips and searching for things that made Spencer tremble. He reached for Brendon, bringing his face close and kissing him fiercely, suddenly in desperate need of something to anchor him as Brendon’s hand sped up, coaxing almost unbearable pleasure from Spencer’s body.
“Right,” Brendon said breathlessly, when Spencer was sure he couldn’t take much more, leaning in to kiss Spencer again before manhandling him into a sitting position. “Scoot up a little. Give me your hand.”
He turned his back, shifting closer until he was practically in Spencer’s lap. Spencer blinked, not understanding what he was after, until he suddenly did and heat surged through him all over again. He pulled his legs in underneath himself, reaching out and wrapping his left arm around Brendon’s waist, stifling a groan as Brendon’s ass rubbed up against his aching dick.
Brendon pulled in a sharp breath and reached for the lace, tangling the fingers of his left hand with Spencer’s and pulling the beautiful material down over both of them, craning his neck to kiss Spencer over his shoulder as they felt the lace settle into place, tightening around their wrists.
“I-” Brendon whispered, tightening his fingers around Spencer’s until it was almost painful. “Do you-? I don’t-”
Spencer buried his face against Brendon’s neck, fighting to keep in control. His body was telling him where it wanted to go, but something inside his head made him hesitate. He put his free hand on Brendon’s hip, feeling it skate wetly across the skin. He traced a line along the curve of Brendon’s ass experimentally, drawing a sharp breath as Brendon pushed himself up to get closer. Spencer watched, fascinated, as his fingers moved lower, then lower still, until he brushed against something and Brendon let out a moan.
“There. I think-just-Spencer, please.”
Spencer closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the top of Brendon’s back to keep himself together. He pushed with one finger, moving it carefully deeper until it was all the way inside. Brendon threw his head back, panting.
“Again.”
Spencer bit his lip in concentration and tried to repeat what he’d just done, sliding his finger out carefully and pushing it back in. Brendon urged him on wordlessly, pushing his hips back, setting the pace as Spencer added a second finger, then a third until they were both rocking together, Brendon turning into an incoherent, moaning mess in his arms.
“Now,” Brendon said, pulling his hips away from Spencer’s and angling his head back, searching for Spencer’s mouth. “Can we, please? Now?”
Spencer nodded fervently, capturing Brendon’s mouth with his as he reached between them and lined himself up. Brendon pressed back, moaning low in his throat when they got the angle right and Spencer felt himself slip inside.
He ducked his head, pressing his face firmly against Brendon’s neck as he slid deeper, feeling Brendon surround him and take him in, gripping Spencer’s hand tightly as they moved together, rocking against each other in small, careful movements until Spencer was in to the hilt.
He started to move his hips, unable to help himself. His other arm went around Brendon’s chest, holding him impossibly close as he pulled almost all the way out. Brendon’s grip around his hand tightened, head falling back against Spencer’s shoulder and a low drawn-out moan breaking from his lips as Spencer pushed back inside.
“Fuck,” Brendon gasped, biting his lip. His free hand, still warm and slightly damp with oil, pressed into Spencer’s thigh, gripping so tightly that Spencer was sure there would be bruises in the morning. He pressed himself harder into Spencer’s lap, and Spencer responded by tightening his hold on him.
“Stay still a moment,” he mumbled into Brendon’s neck, gently guiding Brendon forward until they were both on their knees with Brendon supporting himself on his right hand, Spencer still lined up along his back.
Spencer withdrew again, then pushed forward quickly. This time, Brendon keened, his left hand desperately holding onto Spencer’s as his right hand scrambled for purchase. “Yes, Christ, yes. Spencer.”
Brendon’s spine arched prettily in the lamplight, and Spencer slid his free hand down his back, forefinger tracing the shadows cast on his skin.
Together, they found a new pace, one of push and pull, faster then slower, quick snaps of the hips followed by long, languid thrusts until Spencer could barely think straight and Brendon was babbling incoherently.
When Spencer’s hand finally found its way to Brendon’s dick, curling around it and gripping it firmly, Brendon’s arm gave, and his face pressed into the sheets as he gasped.
Spencer kissed the space between Brendon’s shoulder blades and twisted his hand as he slid deep into Brendon again, and Brendon came on a hitched groan, warm liquid pooling into Spencer’s hand. His body tightened in its climax, incredibly so, and Spencer’s vision went white for a second as he followed Brendon over the edge.
They stayed like that for a moment, Spencer pressed all along Brendon’s back and Brendon breathing heavily into the tousled sheets. At last, Brendon’s hand squeezed his, and Spencer noticed for the first time that the lace surrounding their hands was tingling slightly, just as it had when they’d first been married.
“Up,” Brendon said, and Spencer complied, carefully bringing Brendon up with him. They eased the lace off their joined hands, and Spencer noted with relief that it had turned a deep gold colour, similar to the new rings on their fingers.
“It worked. Look.”
Brendon took the lace from him and ran it through his fingers, eyes sparkling. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”
Spencer felt something constrict in his chest, the familiar surge of guilt receding in the face of Brendon’s smile. Brendon yawned, unsuccessfully trying to smother it with his hand before leaning back against Spencer.
Spencer smiled. “Tired?”
Brendon nodded sleepily, allowing Spencer to coax him beneath the comforter. Spencer moved in close, not thinking about the fact that Brendon had his own bed, which he might prefer given that they’d thoroughly ruined the sheets. Brendon was warm and pliable next to him, and judging by the quiet, steady breaths coming from him as soon as his head hit the pillows, Spencer figured Brendon wasn’t exactly unhappy with where he’d ended up.
The first thing Brendon became aware of when he woke up the next morning was that his left arm was twisted above his head in a weird angle, pins and needles shooting through it painfully. He looked up; Spencer’s hand was still covering his. Brendon smiled and turned around, keeping their hands together while carefully bringing their arms down until they were resting in a more comfortable position.
Next to him, Spencer was still sleeping. Brendon smiled again, memories from the previous night replaying in his mind.
He moved the sheet back a little, taking the time to really look at his husband for the first time. Last night, he hadn’t had time to take everything in-losing the details in the overwhelming wave of impressions and feelings that had all seemed to pull at his attention at once.
He put his hand on Spencer’s chest-stroking lightly, so as not to wake him-and let himself just soak everything in. Spencer’s skin was fair and smooth, pulled tight over the flat of his stomach and sprinkled with hair that started at his belly button and disappeared in a dark trail under the edge of the sheet. Brendon moved his hand lower, letting it follow the trail out of sight and unable to repress a shudder when the side of his palm came up against warm, smooth flesh.
Careful not to make any sudden movements, Brendon pushed the sheet down a little more and moved his hand to lightly circle the base of Spencer’s dick. It was already more than half-hard-same as Brendon’s when he woke up in the morning-and as Brendon started to move his hand, he could see it fill out even more, growing under his fingers while Brendon watched, fascinated.
He moved his hand a little faster, trying out things he’d discovered on himself in guilty moments growing up, and biting down around a moan when he moved the pad of his thumb over the head and felt a bead of wetness there, begging to be spread around.
Spencer moved in his sleep, making a warbled sound, and Brendon stiffened, starting to carefully remove his hand.
Spencer stopped him.
Brendon looked up, blushing furiously. Spencer was looking back at him with dark eyes, breathing uneven as he tightened his grip on Brendon’s wrist.
“Don’t stop.”
Brendon let out a shaky breath and did as told, moaning when Spencer urged his hand to move faster. He leaned in for a kiss, grateful when Spencer met him half-way, letting go of Brendon’s wrist to grab his hip and pull them flush together. One of his thighs came up, and Brendon parted his legs eagerly, groaning into Spencer’s mouth as the thigh started rocking against him.
They didn’t last long, collapsing half on top of each other in a sticky mess of tangled limbs a lot sooner than either of them would have wanted. The kisses eventually slowed down to something sleepy and uncoordinated, and Brendon was just contemplating dozing off again when there was a firm knock on the door to the outer chamber.
He groaned softly, letting go of Spencer’s hand before pulling on the robe he’d worn the night before and forcing himself from the comfort of the warm bed.
He quickly ran his fingers through his hair and cleared his throat, trying not to look as obviously sated as he felt. By the look on the messenger’s face when he finally opened the door, he’d failed spectacularly.
“From King Peter, my lord,” the messenger mumbled, bowing as he handed Brendon an envelope and hastily left.
Seeing the elegant scrawl of King Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III on the front of the letter set a tight knot in Brendon’s stomach. He broke the wax seal and skimmed over the content as he walked back into the bed chamber.
“What does it say?”
Brendon looked up from the letter, smiling tightly at Spencer, who was sitting up in bed, the sheets pooling around his waist. “We’re to go before the king at noon.”
Spencer nodded, the peaceful smile he’d had on his face when Brendon had left him gone. “Good. Let’s get ready, then. We should have all of this settled by dinner.”
Brendon couldn’t help but think that something in Spencer’s voice didn’t sound as sure as he was pretending to be.
They stayed in their chambers until it was time to go. Mentally preparing themselves, Spencer wanted to call it, but if he was to be honest with himself, the real reason was closer to hiding.
A group of servants brought them breakfast and prepared their clothes, bustling around them as they sat on opposite ends of a table made for eight, trying to keep a normal conversation going.
“I was talking to Zack the other day,” Brendon said. “He said the crops are growing really well. Looks like we’ll have a good harvest.”
Spencer nodded, buttering a piece of bread to have something to do with his hands. “The orchards are looking exceptionally well, too. We’ll have apples and plums before long.”
“Good. That’s good.”
Spencer took a sip of his tea, glancing at the clock on the wall out of the corner of his eyes. Still two hours to go.
On the opposite end of the table, he saw Brendon do the same, before putting down his napkin and getting to his feet. “I’m going to take a bath.”
“Okay,” Spencer said. “I think the servants already brought water. It should be ready for you.”
Brendon hesitated for a moment, biting his lip. “It’s a big tub.”
Spencer swallowed, a now familiar heat starting to pool in his stomach. “It is.”
Brendon tilted his head, as though to say, then come here already. Spencer gestured to one of the servants to start clearing the table and got to his feet, following Brendon into the next room.