goldenboywrites

[goldenboywrites]

blood sweat & tears

The first time Ignatius used magic, his mother cried. 

In his defense, he didn’t know what had happened. There was the most delicious peach out of reach. Iggy was five years old, and he wanted it at that very moment. Running off to find his father wasn’t an option. He stood under that tree, staring up at the branch it was hanging from and wanted. It was hard for his childlike brain to understand the tug in his chest and the tingle in his fingertips, but he knew he could call to the peach, and it would come. 

It did. 

His mother ran out of the house screaming. Iggy thought he had done something wrong. She hugged him so tightly to her body that he couldn’t breathe. The peach had fallen out of his grip when she grabbed him. He stared at it; no doubt it was bruised now. Then his father came out from the fields, demanding to know what happened. They’ll come for him. We have to run. They can’t have him; he’s ours. Her tears soaked his clothing, and her body was racked with trembles and sobs. Her grip hurt. 

They did try to run. They didn’t make it far. He doesn’t remember much, but he does remember her screams as they ripped him from her arms. He can recall the metallic slice of a sword being drawn. He fought the knights so hard to get back to his parents they knocked him out. Then, he remembers walking up in a bare, cold room. You possess magic. You’ll be tested, and then we’ll see what we can do with you. 

The mark came that night. 

Ignatius woke up to searing pain across his hip. He tried to hold back his sobs, not wanting to alert whoever was outside of his locked room. He tugged at his clothes, exposing his skin, and hadn’t understood why black ink had appeared on his hip and down his right thigh. He didn’t say anything about it, was uncomfortable with his surroundings, and was scared about whatever test he had to pass. The test came and went, and no one told him anything or explained anything. Eventually, he was moved to a fortress and assigned a mentor to learn how to control and expand his magic abilities. You have been given a gift. The gift of magic. We will train you and see how your ability grows, and then you will be assigned. Some wizards were sent to the army, and others were sent to maintain and fulfill the needs of the crown’s cities. Others, one with exceptional power, worked directly under the royal family. And it was then that he realized, even at such an age, that his life wasn’t his own anymore. 

Eventually, he had forgotten about the mark. Just chalked it up to being part of being a wizard. When he was 13 years old, his mentor saw it after Iggy had accidentally set his clothes on fire. You’re marked. This is…this is…His mentor was speechless, fingers hovering over the mark on his skin with the need to touch as if he were something precious. Iggy was smuggled out of the fortress that night, half asleep and confused. Was this his life? Being taken from place to place? Hello, Ignatius. My name is Victor. The man spoke softly; his warmth reminded Iggy of his mother when she was alive. I know you must be very confused, but you’re safe now. The royal family won’t find you here. They’ll never find you here. 

The mark, he learned, was a mating mark. A very rare, very unique curse placed upon extraordinary wizards by the royals eons ago. It was said that a wizard who received such a mark was destined to have his soul tied to a royal family member. Specifically, the prince or princess next in line for the throne. He was destined to give his life and magic to the next ruler. For now, the mark was dormant, just black ink staining his skin, but when it was time, and he was called upon, it would blossom with color, and only then would his mate be able to track him down wherever he went. I can’t keep you safe forever, Iggy. But I can train you to make sure you are prepared. If you join our cause, I will ensure you come out of this as your own person. You do not belong to them; you belong to yourself. So he trained, trained every single day to fight for his own life. He would destroy the royal family from the inside of their castle, and he would reclaim his life as his own. 

He left the only home he had come to love since he was five when his mark woke up. Colors bloomed across his skin like a blush. His tattoo now looked like a watercolor canvas with shades of reds, yellows, blues, and greens. If he didn’t hate it so fucking much, he would be proud of it. Victor had prepared him for this, and Iggy couldn’t risk their lives when the prince started to hunt him down. Ignatius left within the hour. 

Take me to him. He asked, feeling the magic inch closer and closer, covering his body in the familiar tingle he had come to love. Standing before the enormous iron gates, he was transported to the castle within seconds. There were various guards stationed inside. Once they saw him arrive in a shroud of shadows, they took taller, more alert; all of them at once drew their swords. Very dramatic. “Hello,” He said, wrapping his hand around the metal picket and leaning his hip against the gate. “Take it easy, no need for swords. We’re all friends here.” 

“What is your business at the castle?” The guard in the front grunted. 

He pouted, bottom lip sticking out. “I was called here.” The guard scoffed, stepping closer to him, his sword whacking Iggy’s fingers to urge him off the gate. It stung, but he didn’t release his hold. “Is this how you treat the prince’s wizard?” He asked head tilted. Another guard behind the one threatening him gasped. “His mate?” So, it was safe to say that the prince’s mark wasn’t common knowledge. Curious. “Let me be very clear, I answer to him, not you.” The wizard snapped his fingers, the shadows encasing him again, depositing him inside the gate next to the guard that hit him. The man moved to grab Iggy, his beefy hand nearly catching his arm. “Don’t bruise the merchandise,” He hissed, knocking the man’s hand away. He flicked his fingers underneath his chin, extending his palm and blowing a kiss to the guard. “Sleep,” He whispered, winking at the man who immediately fell to the ground, his sword slipping out of his grip and landing beside him. “That’s better.”

“Arrest him!” The two other guards shrieked at the same time, and then they started to crowd him, circling in on him.

Ignatius laughed, his body bending in half as the laughter shook his head. As if. He slapped his knee, shaking his head. “You guys are funny, but let’s be serio-” His words were cut off when a net was thrown over him, the notches of it locking into the ground and whatever the material was subdued his magic, dimming it to the point where Iggy couldn’t call to his magic. He sobered up, eyes narrowed into slits. He fucking hated power dampeners. They left him reeling for days, his magic hidden inside him. It felt like losing himself. “Bastard,” He snarled, the net forcing him to kneel as it encased him. “That’s cheating.” 

“Alert the King and the prince,” The guard said as he shuffled towards Iggy, picking him up by his shoulders. Another guard took his feet. “Be careful of the dampener. Don’t let it slip. This one,” He nodded towards Iggy, who snapped his teeth at the man in return. “Is slippery. We should take him to the cells for now. He should be contained there until the King decides what to do with him.” 

And that was how Ignatius ended up in a holding cell. Not the grand welcome he had been expecting, being the prince’s mate and all. Iggy thought there would be a feast and a ball and, who knows, a celebration for his fucking service. But no, he was cold and hungry, and his fingers were bruised, but worse, his magic was gone. It wasn’t a far-out assumption that the bars caging him in were also magic dampeners. At least he was finding out now instead of later. He stood in the corner of his cell, arms crossed over his chest, picking at the dirt beneath his nails.

The doors outside his cell opened, and Iggy glanced up and felt the entire world stop around him. Their eyes met instantly, and it felt like…Iggy gasped, his heart racing; it felt like he saw everything in color for the first time. Like his entire life up until now, he slept until he laid eyes on the prince and woke up to the beautiful world around him. It was like drowning and coming up for the first gulp of pure, fresh air. It was everything. Iggy raced towards the bars of his cell because the need to be closer to the man overtook him. Yes, yes. His heart sang. This one. We were made for this one. But this, this wasn’t him. This was the mark. Iggy inhaled through his nose, gaze never shifting from the prince’s, but he did stuff his hand into the pocket of his trousers and pinched his thigh as hard as he could. It was enough to break him out of the mark’s trance. 

“Hello, mate.”

@magiclwritings

[goldenboywrites]

As Cesare undressed, Quintus made himself comfortable in Cesare’s bed. He would be lying if he said there wasn’t some uneasiness in his bones. The last time he spent time in this bed, he had been kidnapped hours later by Cesare’s cousin and forced back to Vivec. But on the other hand, this was the first place Quin had felt in control of his body and had experienced pleasure he hadn’t known existed by Cesare’s hands. It was where he had felt the love that was possible between them and realized it was something he could have. “I forgot you mumble in your sleep,” He said, sliding under the covers as Cesare pulled them back. Quin was beneath them before the man even climbed into his bed. “You did it all of the time when we were younger. I thought it was because you were uncomfortable sleeping on the floor.” 

Quin laid on his back, head on the spare pillow, staring at the ceiling. “You spent so many nights sleeping on the floor in my quarters just to make sure I could sleep through storms.” He felt Cesare’s hand slip into his own, and Quin twisted their fingers, turning over onto his side to look at Cesare. “I used to think you were doing it because it would impress Maximus. I mentioned it to him one summer after you left, and he had no idea you did that.” Quin scooted closer to Cesare, worming his way under his arm and pressing against his side. He rested his arms across the man’s chest, laying his chin on the back of his hands, looking up at him. “Now it all makes sense.” Quin drummed his fingers against Cesare’s bare skin, smirking up at him. “The whole time, you were trying to impress me.” 

“I suppose we can share quarters,” He said after a moment, laying his head on Cesare’s chest. Quin could hear the thump of his heart beating against his chest. It was the first time he had heard the prince’s heartbeat, and it was at that moment Quintus vowed to keep it beating, even if it was the last thing he would do. “After we’re married. Tonight is an exception. I’m feeling generous because I doubt you’d be able to sleep so far away from me. However, I can’t have the castle workers gossiping about me sleeping in here while we’re unwed. Think about what that would do to my reputation.” Long and drawn out, Quin sighed, “Such a shame you’ve decided not to announce our engagement anytime soon.” 

Quin muffled his shit-eating grin into Cesare’s chest, moving to wrap his arms around the prince’s chest. He tucked his head under Cesare’s chin, pulling the fur blankets to his shoulders, encasing them warmly. There was probably still a lot they had to discuss, and Quin had even more to discuss with Beau and Maximus. But for now, he was right where he needed to be. “I want to start training,” Quin commented, closing his eyes and allowing himself to be lulled into the promise of sleep. “Archery and sword techniques. I need you and Maximus to prepare me for war.” Both Cesareu and Maximus had fought in wars before. Quintus had never trained for such things. He was years behind both of them. “Promise me we can start tomorrow.”

He wasn't sure how he felt about being scolded by Quintus when it came to matter of his court. And that thought alone was enough to make him smile. That was the start of it. No matter what, or where, there would be consideration for him and them in everything. And even though he warned off matters of the crown, he knew that would follow too. He was excited and nervous, more sure that they were making the right choice than anything else. And perhaps that was more to do with his own ego but what happened next sealed it for him.

Without any sort of prompting, Quin got himself ready for bed. Had Cesare not witnessed it for himself, he'd never thought it to happen. Of course the idea that a grown couldn't ready himself was ludicrous but he watched was the prince slipped that shirt on over his head and headed straight for that bed. His arms crossed over his chest and Cesare just watched, taking it all in. He hadn't realized he'd been staring that hard until Quin's voice broke through the room. And there he was, dressed in Cesare's clothing and getting ready to lie down on his bed. There wasn't a word in his vocabulary for what he was feeling but if he had to, perfect came to mind. "Y-yeah." He stammered, clearing his throat but doing little to hide the smile that graced his features.

He was careful to step through the mess and to the basin across the room. Cesare briefly dipped in the corner of the towel at it's side and ran it quickly but thoroughly over his face. And soon after he made quick work of his own shirt, tossing it off to the side and then the draw of his pants was unlaced and those were shed too. He paused briefly at his wardrobe but decided against anything more than his undergarments. "The worst you'll have to deal with might be a bit of talking in my sleep." He offered, reaching the other side of the bed and his hand fell to the blankets covering it. His eyes took in the vision of Quintus once more before he shooed him away long enough to pull everything back and slide underneath into the coolness of the bed.

"But no separate chambers for you. We like to suffer and suffer alike here in Adros." Cesare teased, helping Quin under the blankets and he scooted in close, giving him space to adjust and get comfortable on his own. Cesare's head cradled onto the pillow and he was quite certain that in this instance, heaven could have been within the posts of that bed so far as he was concerned. Cesare reached out his hand then, finding Quin's almost instantly and their fingers laced just as quick. "Think you could endure such an awful manner for the rest of your life?"

[goldenboywrites]

Scorpius observed Albus as he processed the information he was being told. He could see the anger radiating off of him. In some ways, the man sitting before him hadn’t changed. Albus had always had a red-hot anger, quick to provoke, even faster to defend. Usually, his anger wasn’t directed at Scorpius- that was new and uncharted territory for him. Albus’ anger did not scare him, though. He had expected it, and he had planned for it. 

“Interesting,” He said, pursing his lips in thought. “Lily had casually mentioned you spend most of your time here, and you mentioned earlier that you know former shopkeepers here, so it wouldn’t be out of the possibility to assume you spend more than just a few off weeks here.” It did hurt that Albus would stay away because Scorpius was here. It wasn’t like he had expected things to return to normal immediately upon returning home, but he had thought there would be some leeway with the man sitting across from him. Maybe he should have done this in a group setting with Teddy to help alleviate some of the tension, but Scorpius felt he owed Albus a one-on-one conversation. 

“If my being here is going to run you out of your home, Lily has other properties I can rent from her,” He said carefully, the words tasting like ash on his tongue, but Albus would be within his right to demand Scorpius leave, and he would if Albus asked. “I haven’t started ordering supplies for the shop, so there’s still time to back out.” He was mildly disappointed that their ideas of what co-existing meant differed. Maybe renting the store under Albus’ apartment was overkill, but Scorpius hadn’t thought everything through when he decided to return. He had been scared that he would back out if he stopped long enough to think about it. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow about it.” 

 Scorpius’ eyes darkened and narrowed at Albus’ question. Cutthroat. That was new and unexpected. Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy had always been a sore spot for Scorpius since he was a young boy. He knew what this was. Albus felt vulnerable and tried to put Scorpius in the same situation. Fine. “No, she doesn’t,” Scorpius replied flatly, shoulders sagging. “I haven’t decided if I will tell her.” Eventually, she would find out the news of his return; his shop was bound to make the news at some point, but Scorpius didn’t care if she found out from the Daily Prophet rather than his lips. She had never done a damn thing for him. 

“I didn’t come back with intentions of fixing my issues with her,” Scorpius said, dragging his gaze from the table to Albus. “I can’t…” The words choked, stuck in his throat, but he pushed through the feeling, forcing the words out. “I haven’t talked to her since she decided against a funeral for Dad.” His mother had thought it would be too much of a field day for the media. There had been no service for Draco. There wasn’t even a place where Scorpius had to go to remember him. He hadn’t been laid to rest in the Malfoy mausoleum. At the time, Astoria wouldn’t hear his pleas. Scorpius had left a week later, right after graduation. “I didn’t come back to fix things with her. I came back here to fix things with you, Albus.”

It was utterly insane to him that Scorpius Malfoy was sharing a drink with him in that moment. What was even madder was the fact that he'd had to work to not see the seventeen year old he'd left at Hogwarts all those years ago. Now that he'd had his moment of hysterics. Well, he was still in a fit of sorts as he sat as it was. He looked like Draco. A damn near spitting image of the man and it made Al's stomach lurch just a little. Not because of who he resembled but the fact that he could still see the boy under the new defining features of a man. It felt like he was going to faint and he could barely focus on a damn thing that was coming out of his mouth.

Lily. Why hadn't she told him? His sister had her mean streaks in her but this was just cruel. Perhaps it hadn't been intentional and it wasn't like she knew Albus' schedule. He made damn sure of that but he thought that they'd gotten past this sort of thing. Because there was not a single way that this wasn't going to turn into a nightmare of some kind at some point. Didn't Scorpius know he'd shattered him? Didn't he care? The thoughts roared through his head like they'd run down cobblestone corridors and called them adventures. The more he explained what he'd been doing and where he'd been made Al even more numb. Mostly because all of that, he felt he couldn't do with him. After all of it. Tears were brimming against his water line and he begged Merlin not to let them fall.

Thankfully the bottle was back in his hand and Albus wasted no time in taking a good swig and then another. It burned and his eyes closed for just a moment, tears receding back to hell where they belonged as far as he was concerned. What was it he'd asked? To coexist? That was laughable and he'd nearly told him so. But Albus took another long drink from the bottle and sat it back between them. He stared at the blond for what felt like an eternity deciding what to say to all of that. Was he to congratulate him on thriving despite sacrificing them for it? Surely he didn't expect that and Albus was certainly not going to give it to him.

"Sure Scorpius." He settled on, because what else was there to say? They were adults, both settled into their careers or ventures and had their own lives. Al just happened to now live above Scorpius' means of living and that was just going to have to be alright. "I mean, there's no reason we can't." His tongue swiped his lower lip, tasting the alcohol left there and he felt his foot begin to tap just ever so. Albus forced a smile and gave another look around the place. The anger welling in his belly was going to get the better of him if he didn't get a handle on himself. Maybe he should just go, stay back at the Puddlemere dorms because seeking out the company of his significant other was absolutely off the plate with this one. How the hell was he going to explain that? The fact that that hadn't occurred to him until just now was wild.

"I usually only stay here on off weeks. I'll try and send word or just stay out of your way when I am home." Which was an utter lie. Al ran here every chance he got. It was the one place no one could ever seem to find him except for those he wanted to. Mostly Rose and Teddy, his siblings and other cousins occasionally. Maybe now that would have to be true. But why was he already trying to make accommodations for him? He'd cursed himself and leaned back in his chair. The view of this man was still playing tricks with him. He knew it wasn't the alcohol it was just that he thought he'd never see this, never hear him again. And while he was angry and hurt, he still found himself in awe of it, pissing him off all the more. "Your mum know you're back yet?" Not that he cared but he really just wanted to see if he was the last to know. And Al made a mental note to find Teddy later and beat the snot out of him. Or, at least try to for this.

[goldenboywrites]

“You’re not going to kill him,” Quin replied, lips thinning into a thin line of displeasure. When the time came to face him, he knew he would do everything he could to keep Cesare and Maximus away from his uncle. Not only to keep them safe but his secrets as well. It went beyond that, though. It started with Quin and his uncle and ended with them, too. No, his uncle was his to kill—no one else. “I need to do it.” Maybe then, when he was the one who watched the life fade from his uncle’s eyes, he would be able to move on. “It has to be me. It will be me.” 

He grew quiet as Cesare spoke, hanging onto every word the prince was saying. It never got old, Quin being told he was right, but he hadn’t expected the sting of this. While Cesare gave him what he wanted, it didn’t feel reassuring. We won’t announce anything. Quin hadn’t expected the man to agree, not after his words and pressures earlier. He had given Cesare what he wanted, an answer, and now he was relenting on it. “Your father wants it announced everywhere,” He commented, turning his face into Cesare’s touch. “And I know that is what you want as well.” Quin placed a light kiss on the center of the prince’s palm. “You can’t go back and forth like this when you’re king. You’ll drive your council mad.” 

Quintus didn’t apologize for the wasted food on the ground because he knew Cesare wouldn’t hear it. However, he did feel a touch of embarrassment over the outburst. Usually, he was so much better about keeping his temper under wrap. “That sounds nice,” Quin commented, silently touched that Cesare always seemed to know what he needed before he knew himself. It would probably be the only way Quin could attempt to sleep that night. After dredging up his past and exposing himself in such a way to Cesare, he felt uneasy and on shaky grounds with his mind. Feeling Cesare’s presence, knowing he was there watching, was a comfort all on its own. One that Quin would rely on. Despite what Cesare thought, Quin did feel safe with him. That was the problem. He would eventually let his guard down if he relied on that feeling of safety and comfort. 

“I am neither,” Quin said as he sidestepped Cesare and crossed the room to the prince’s wardrobe. He hid the smirk from Cesare. Let him find out on his own. Quin opened the doors, rummaging through the clothes until he found a simple nightshirt from Cesare. “I have a feeling you’re a bed hog.” He started to pull off his clothes, taking his time with nimble fingers to undo the laces. Quin shrugged off his shirt, turning around to look at the prince standing behind him. “Probably snore like a cannon too.” Once he was unclothed, except for his underwear, Quin pulled Cesare’s shirt on, the end of it reaching midlength on his thighs. Then, he realized this was the first time they would share a bed for an entire night. While it wasn’t their first sleepover, Cesare had spent many nights sleeping on the floor of Quin’s childhood quarters; together in a bed, it was entirely different. “If that’s the case, I must request separate quarters from you when we’re married.” Quin issued the teasing challenge nonchalantly, making his way back over to the bed. He crawled on his knees atop the plush bed to the center, pausing to look at Cesare. “Coming?”

Cesare thought to turn his face back down so their eyes could meet but something felt wrong in turning his gaze. Quintus had already given him more than he could have ever asked for, the least he could do was give him that moment of privacy from the giant cliff they were headed over. Together. And in all truth, he'd also needed a moment to gather himself. Their skin felt as though it were only ever supposed to touch one another in that moment and the prince was going to savor that for as long as he could. Because nothing was promised for them but that they would continue to show up for each other. Quin had done his fair share and it seemed that he needed to make up some of the distance.

"I know you're right." He admitted, his hands moving to cup Quin's face and he turned him back down from the heavens to earth again. He swore he'd never get tired of those eyes for as long as they both lived. "I know that he isn't going to stop until he dies from stupidity or my sword in his gut. But we can still have this while he lives." His thumbs lightly began to stroke along his cheek bones and a soft smile pulled on his lips. "We won't announce anything. You and Max will stay here and no one will be any the wiser unless he shows his hand." He knew his father was adamant about an absolute show of strength but Cesare knew that Quin was right, could only be right about this man and he'd have to learn to trust when he said enough was enough.

He didn't know if that was enough to soothe Quintus' mind for the time being but he'd hoped it would be. Because if he spent a moment longer contemplating the thoughts and whereabouts of that man for the evening, he swore he'd scream and kick his feet. Well, maybe that wasn't entirely true but it felt as close to what he felt in the moment. Cesare sighed and let his hands drop to the fur and he leaned in to place a soft kiss to his temple. "You are safe here." He knew he wouldn't believe it but he needed him to know that it was possible to start to believe in that notion.

"All of this talk can wait until we've had some sleep." Cesare shifted side to side, looking down between them and then around. "I'd say to eat but you seemed to have decided the dogs can have a snack when they decide to wander in." His tone was light and he tried to quell the larger smile that grew on his lips but to little avail. He'd have gotten him anything if he'd have just asked for it. "Why don't you come lay down and I'll watch over you for a bit before I go to sleep." He didn't know if that was truly pushing the envelope of too much to honestly, it would make him feel better too. He wondered, briefly, if that was something that was always going to be a part of them. Not that he would mind but it was curious just how much a man to do to people if they allowed it to persist. "I'm truly curious to see if you're a blanket thief or a drooler."

[goldenboywrites]

He collapsed back on the throne, seeing stars. His entire body felt loose and relaxed, with a throbbing soreness that felt oh-so delicious. Everett had always known that if the two of them tumbled around together, it would be explosive, but what he had imagined for years did not hold a candle to the real thing. He could now understand August’s guard dog behavior over the prince, and he felt a pang of lingering jealousy over the fact the two of them had been doing this for years and years and years. He wondered, briefly, which of them Colter preferred to bed. Everett would bet all of his money that August had perfected a sweet, innocent, virgin-like persona in bed. Still, after what they had just done, it seemed Colter was leaning towards something more dangerous, addicting. Something he knew August wouldn’t put on the table for him. 

“Will I?” Everett asked with a sly smile, tilting his head back to meet Colter’s mouth. Silently, he mourned the loss of Colter’s cock inside of him. The disconnection after fucking was something that had never bothered Everett before, but this time it had. Interesting. He didn’t mind staying the night in Colter’s quarters, something they hadn’t done since they were kids, and it had always been the three of them. However, there would be a disgruntled stableboy whose feelings would be hurt when Everett failed to show for their usual roll on the hay. Oh, well, onto bigger and better things. He allowed Colter his moment to commit to memory Everett naked and spent on the throne by his doing. Don’t want you wandering off, rang out his head repeatedly. The pressure of being the prince’s, he assumed. Because that was what Colter was used to, with August, who only saw Colter, only wanted him. And while Everett wanted to him too, he wasn’t built for exclusiveness like August. 

But he would play for now.

Everett dressed, stopping to relish the attention he received from Colter. As they walked through the castle, back to the prince’s quarters, he did nothing to hide the limp in his walk, nor did he revert his gaze as they passed by servants, entirely comfortable showing off the flush in his face and the ravished state of his hair. It was a surprising relief to see Colter act similarly. His clothes were rustled and wrinkled, yet he still walked to his quarters confidently, meeting the gazes of those who passed by them. Everett had brought that out in him less than 48 hours after August had left. The King would be proud. 

Growing up in the castle, He stepped into a room he was familiar with. He hadn’t been back in Colter’s quarters since before he had left but was relieved to see it was mostly the same. What surprised him the most was that there were no signs of August here. Curious, he thought, as he gazed around the room, barely paying attention to Colter giving orders in the background. Did they not spend time here together? Maybe they spent their time together in August’s room, but something told him that wasn’t correct either. It didn’t matter; he would get to the bottom of it quickly.

Without much thought, Everett joined Colter on the couch. “What could be on my mind?” He asked, hooking his legs over the prince’s and pressing against his side. He reached for the goblet, taking it out of Colter’s hands and taking a mouthful of the wine. “But you?” He whispered, the words sickeningly sweet. Everett swirled the goblet's contents, raising a brow at Colter suggestively. “Mostly, I was savoring the memory of how it felt to walk across the halls of your castle while your cum leaked out of me.” His lips twisted into a smirk, and he took another sip of wine before returning it to Colter. “Something I can say I’ve never experienced before, but I am pleased you were the first.”

The way Everett felt under him was sinful. The vision of him under his, atop his one day throne wasn't something he'd expected to enjoy quite as much as he was in that moment but he found it exhilarating. The way he held on and hung onto everything that was the prince made him shiver. He'd thought it possible that Auggie was the only one to get him like this. And maybe his lust fueled vision was mostly to blame for it, but it felt good. Colter needed good. Needed stability and it meant by any means necessary. Everyone would understand. He'd convinced himself of this.

Soft kisses to his jaw drew him from his thoughts and there was Everett, caving under him and so Colter as sure to fuck into him harder through his orgasm. The prince's hand slid around his backside, clutching him tightly as he'd spasmed around his cock and in turn sent Colter reeling. The rope sticky ropes of cum that splashed against his stomach were cooling and the prince bit his lip as Everett began to speak. He brought a single finger down, playing with the substance. Smiling, he brought a small amount back up to his lips and tasted Everett for himself. The shudder through his own body at the taste of him and the tightness squeezing his cock and he dared not draw it out longer. He wanted to feel it, wanted to mark Everett as his own. The prince's hand slid up the other's back as his thrusts grew more wild and soon he cradled the other's head, bringing their faces close. Their lips met and Colter growled as his tongue dove into Everett's mouth, his cock expanding and erupting in the same stroke as he thrust into his lover so deep.

"Fuuuuuuuck" He gasped against his lips, rutting through each spasm as if it were to be his last. Colter drew in a deep breath as his body began to settle and the two of them collapsed against the cushion. His sweaty forehead was pressed to Everett's and his lips found their way to his again. Colter kissed him greedily, cupping his face as he did so. He'd wished desperately that they'd been in bed because the urge to stretch out and sink into a somewhat high was aching to be rectified at that moment. He hummed gently against the other's lips and slowly pulled away, a soft smile on his lips as he did so. Everett looked just as sated as he felt and for a moment Colter felt untouchable, almost god-like.

"You'll sleep with me tonight." He told him matter of factly, his thumb lightly brushing over the other's lips as he cupped his face in his hand. "I don't want you wandering and disappearing too." He bent in and kissed Everett again, slowly and reluctantly withdrawing his limp cock from within him. While he knew the servants wouldn't be back, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't tell his father the pair of them were in here and he'd rather not have that conversation while Everett's legs were still spread for him. Colter stepped back from the throne, looking at the other for just a moment as if he'd seared that very image into his head. This won't be the last time I take him on that throne. Such a wicked thought but true nonetheless.

He'd gathered their clothing and promptly helped Everett dress. Though it probably would have been faster and he not stopped to kiss and touch parts of his body as they dressed. And while the thought of August leaving as he did still was boiling in the back of his mind, he could be distracted for the moment. He'd allow himself this. Didn't he deserve it? Especially if the other was so willing.

Once they'd dressed and Colter had his fill of kisses for the moment, the pair emerged from the throne room and traveled the distance up to the prince's quarters. Colter flung the door open, startling the handmaids inside. He smiled, asking one to fetch a few bottles of wine for them and the other to draw a bath. He wasn't entirely sure what his company would like to do for the rest of the evening but the prince planned to relax and Everett could decide from there.

The best thing about his staff is that they were quick and never questioned a request. The wine was there in a matter of moments and Colter offered the seating area to Everett to join. "The bath should be ready shortly if you'd like." He finally spoke, taking the cup his handmaid offered to him on her way out, curtsying for both he and Everett as she did so. He took a deep drink from the cup and hummed softly to himself before he collapsed onto one of the larger sofas, sprawling comfortably out on it. His eyes found Everett after a moment and looked him over. His flushed cheeks and tousled hair gave him a thrill. The prince smiled brightly at the man. "Come tell me what's on your mind." He told him, patting the cushions underneath him.

[goldenboywrites]

Oliver’s brow furrowed at Cassio’s easy acceptance of what was happening upstairs. It was weird, and even though his boyfriend knew Apollo better than he did, Oliver knew this wasn’t something he would do. “Yeah, but,” He started, then stopped, listening to Cassio, “I’m happy they’re up there working it out, but doesn’t it kinda feel weird to you?” He asked, twisting his fingers nervously. “They were just in the kitchen fighting about you, and now they’re upstairs playing hide the finger. That’s not like Apollo. You and I both know he would never be comfortable doing something like,” He waved his hand towards the ceiling, “that with us in the same house, and did he just forget that there’s a kid down here claiming to be his son? Weren’t we supposed to be doing some kind of spell to figure this out? And you and I are supposed to watch the kid while they make love upstairs? You can’t believe this is normal behavior. I get Apollo has been better about like affection and stuff since they moved in together, but this is a whole other level.” He sighed, winded after this rant, but he didn’t take any of it back because it was weird. It was bizarre, and he was frustrated. Cassie was just eh about it and shrugging it off. 

“Huh?” Oliver said, lost in his thoughts about what was happening, that he had missed Cassio’s follow-up question regarding their pretty little picture of the future entirely. “I guess I just,” He shrugged, tucking his chin to his shoulder, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth momentarily. “We grew up in a big house, and even though there were a lot of us there, sometimes it just felt empty, you know? Cold, I guess. Yeah, we needed a lot of space, and it felt like home because that was the only home I had ever known. However, it wasn’t homey, I guess. When I think about the home I want to spend my life in, it’s, you know, a good size but warm and filled with things. Pictures, mementos, memories, and half-dead plants because they’re impossible to keep alive without magic. And I want color and fun patterned wallpaper, oh, and a lot of windows, but I also want not to go through ten rooms we barely use when I’m looking for you to open a jar of pickles so...” 

He took a breath, looking at Cassio with a grin. “But even if we get a big house, I’ll still love it because it’s you and me, Cassie. Whenever we end up, it will be perfect because we’ll be together.” He reached forward, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand and bringing it up to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “And I will continue to talk about our beautiful future after you go upstairs and get the horn dogs back on track because I sure as hell am not going to do it, and I volunteer you as tribute.” 

________

“Isaac,” Apollo moaned as his length sunk into his boyfriend. One hand twisted in the bed sheets as he thrust forward; the other held Isaac’s waist, keeping him from moving. It felt more intense this time. Maybe because of the fight? As Apollo bottomed out, he feared moving even an inch because he was already on the edge of climax. He pressed his forehead to Isaac’s shoulder, holding himself steady as he calmed himself down enough to continue. He meant when he said he didn’t want to rush this, not with Isaac. But holy fuck, the heat of the man, being enclosed in the tightness of him, was making it so fucking hard to draw this out.  He raised his head to kiss Isaac hard, licking into his mouth feverishly. Breathless and feeling hot, Apollo pulled out, the head of his cock nestled just inside of Isaac, and he thrust back in, throwing his head back as the heat of Isaac wrapped around him. 

Apollo ran his hand down Isaac’s leg, gripping his ankle and hoisting his leg over his shoulders. His thrusts were relentless per Isaac’s instructions. His hips pistoled with a fury that Apollo didn’t even realize he was capable of, and despite his speed and movements, it didn’t feel enough for him. He sunk into Isaac with everything he had, and still, he wanted more; he needed more. He always wanted Isaac, always wanted to be with him. “I love you,” He whispered, nudging his cheek against Isaac’s nose and kissing the corner of his mouth. Apollo unclenched his fingers from the sheets, moving between their bodies to wrap his hand around Isaac’s length. He stroked him fast and hard, matching his movements with that of his hips. Apollo hovered his mouth over Isaac’s, flicking his gaze to look at him. “It’s only ever been you, Isaac.”

He'd forgotten what this felt like. It'd been so long since Isaac had used this magic and it felt damn good. He wasn't proud of the reason he'd been able to relive it once again but he wouldn't apologize for feeling this. It was one of the things that had intrigued him towards Apollo in the first place. He made his veela magic sing. It was the oddest thing and something he treasured so much more than anyone could ever know. His heart was pounding against his rib cage. Now it was a fight between his mind and his body and one was losing very, very quickly.

Isaac melted at his words, damn near whimpering as his hands clung to Apollo's back. His eyes unable to focus from his boyfriend's very welcomed assault on everything that he was. The feel of Apollo's skin sliding against his own sent him over the edge and Isaac's cock ached at the friction between the two of them. "I wan' ya." He breathed out, moving his hands to cup Apollo's face between them. Their eyes met and he didn't dare hide the lust raging just beneath his skin. The door was locked and he needed this. They needed this. "No." He went on, leaning up to kiss him hard. "I need ya so badly, Apollo."

He wasted no time in moving until he was able to wrap his legs around his love's waist. And he was pleasantly surprised to feel how hard and excited he was. Even his cock was warm and he damn near lost it as he'd begun to grind himself along Apollo's length. A shiver ran along his spine as he reached his hand between them and slowly began to guide him inside. Their lips locked and Isaac moaned into the kiss. All there was was the two of them. Hot, sticky and wanton for one another. His breath hitched feeling Apollo's cock begin to slide inside of him. His thighs clenched against his hips and he held on tight as their bodies eased into meeting.

A loud smack signaled their lips had finally pried apart and Isaac's head dropped back feeling the way he pulsed as he slid in deeper. Now he was completely unrestrained and craving this man. "Don' hol' back." He spoke boldly, placing a rough nip to the other's chin and he felt himself almost growl as he did so. "I wan' ta feel i' Apollo. I wan' ta feel you." He whispered and turned in to kiss and suck the length of the man's neck. He couldn't get enough and his head was swimming, all there was was this. The weight of his body made Isaac's world alright. So long as this were possible, as long as they were possible all would be right. It had to be, Isaac couldn't stand if it weren't. "Please love I nee' ya." He whispered in between kisses to him, thighs clenching tight in urgency.

________

Cassio's head hung back on the edge of the sofa and he listened to what Oliver was so tickled about. His cheek grew warm in turn as well. He'd thought they'd continue to fight or make up but that was not something he'd thought they'd allow. Especially with him and Oliver in the house. But today wasn't a normal sort of day. "Maybe it'll help?" The blond offered, knowing Apollo it would go miles to smooth a lot of what was said in that kitchen over. But that wasn't what Cass was focused on right then. Well, it was indirectly but Oliver had made a comment about him and Apollo and a shared opinion of the boy curled up in his arms. He felt a little off that Oliver didn't see this his way but he also understood it. "Forever my optimist." He spoke softly, rolling back to take the other in. He could ignore the noise if Oliver could. Besides, there was a future to discuss.

"I just don't understand how this boy came to be is all. It is odd that he'd show up out of the blue. But I do believe that Apollo would take care of him should he be his." That was not a doubt in Cass' mind. In fact, he was willing to bet that even if he wasn't, Apollo may still try to if it were possible. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see what they say when they come down." And that's when he'd considered and clicked his tongue. "Well maybe we'll go get them if they're too long."

He didn't want to get too far off their conversation, especially while the boy was asleep and they had the time when life wasn't pulling them every which way. "Why a small flat? Don't you want a nice little cottage out of the city?" He asked, curious and a little teasing. Cass had never lived outside the cities he'd dwelled in. The closest he'd come was a summer cottage with Apollo every couple of summers but even that wasn't all too secluded. "I'm not opposed to it. I actually wouldn't mind it. I have a feeling we could make a home almost anywhere."

[goldenboywrites]

He still has power over me. Quin wanted to counter but kept his mouth shut. He knew well enough that it was wrong to say to Cesare at the moment, even though it was true. Cesare would never understand his uncle's power over him; he couldn’t understand it because he hadn’t gone through what Quintus had. While he was grateful that Cesare would never know the pain and torment he faced, it made situations like this difficult to navigate. Quin saw things one way, Cesare saw them the exact opposite, and they both thought they were right. But even though it was infuriating and frustrated Quin to the point of wanting to rip his hair out, it was why he loved Cesare so damn much. 

And he was scared; that much was true. So much of his life had been spent keeping Maximus out of his uncle’s grip, foiling his uncle’s plans, and thus, so little of his life was spent doing the things he wanted, enjoying the things he liked. Quintus’ life was never his own; it had never been his own until he and Cesare started this. It wasn’t easy for him to factor another person into his decisions, and compromising was even more challenging. He didn’t think he was wrong for this despite Cesare’s protests. Quintus knew deep down that if they were to move forward together before securing his uncle’s head, they would come to regret it. No one, even Beau, knew Quin’s uncle as well as he did. Once he caught wind of the engagement, he would tear the world down to separate them. To him, it would be the last string holding Quintus to him. After marrying Cesare, he wouldn’t be his uncle’s to command. He would officially be Adros's property. 

Well, Quin sighed, can’t say he didn’t warn him. 

Quin slipped his hands into Cesare’s, tangling their fingers. He kept quiet throughout Cesare’s frustrated rant, which was the ultimate power move if he had ever met one. One that would surely annoy Cesare to no end because the man could never keep his mouth shut. He wouldn’t admit out loud that he was downright tickled at having what was it…two proposals from the man in one day? But he was, and if he felt like pushing his luck, Quin was sure he could get another out of him. 

He cleared his throat, finally a noise out of him, and glanced up to meet Cesare’s gaze. “You’re doing it wrong,” Quin said, arching a brow at the man. “I believe the proper way is to kneel when you ask a question like that. Even a prince such as yourself should do it properly.” He waited, refusing another word until Cesare was bent down on one knee before him. Only then did Quintus reach out, cradling the man’s jaw in the palm of his hand. “Yes,” He said, grinning down at Cesare. “And for the record, if you asked me to marry you in the morning, I would also say yes to that as well.” He stroked his thumb over the prince’s cheek, “It isn’t going to do us any favors to do this before dealing with my uncle. I accept that you do not care about that, but I don’t want to hear it when I end up being right. However,” He sighed, breaking their gaze to stare up at the ceiling, “You are also correct in that it can’t hold us back. He can’t hold us back. I also want as much time with you as I can get.”

He wondered in that moment if this is what they meant when someone could die of a broken heart. The way his insides felt, particularly the dead center of his chest, as though they were going to burst into pieces and be no more. And though he said all of these things, these beautiful things about how he felt and cared for the prince; he contradicted in the same breath. A death by a thousand cuts. He'd just gotten him back and yet he'd never felt more gutted than he did standing in front of him just then. What was he to say? No, that couldn't happen because that wasn't what he wanted? That wasn't the type of man Cesare was or would ever be. And no matter how much it hurt he had to accept it. Right?

"Am I not a man first?" Was all he could ask. Because the differences in the way they were raised were painfully clear. The sort of court that Adros held was not the same as Vivec or what his father had held. Quintus couldn't see that both could exist at the same time and yet, Cesare wasn't sure that he could make him see that right at that moment. The look in Quin's eyes was that of a caged animal and it made him feel small for a moment. To think that he'd applied that pressure to add to that. He couldn't bear it. "Quin .. I ..." He stopped, feeling like the fight had just completely left him. The tears welled in his eyes and he didn't care if Quin saw, didn't care what he'd think because it was too much. It was too much to love him and too much to lose him. It was too much to ask him to not continue to love him freely.

"I can't do that. I can't give you what you're asking for." His grip on Quin slackened and he took a step back from him. After everything they'd just been through. Getting him back from his uncle and saving Beau too. Having Max and Quin reunited and everything was good. Why couldn't he see that? "The hell I just went through to get you back from him ..." He drew in a deep breath to calm himself because he couldn't lose his temper. He wouldn't do it. Running on pure adrenaline at this point wasn't helping the notion but he'd hold himself, he'd get this through to him because nothing else mattered. If Quin wasn't a factor in this seriously then none of it mattered. Not his crown, not this damn feud, none of it would matter because his very reason for living and pushing through life as he had was to prove to Quin that he was worthy of him. That he would provide and be there for him.

"There is no going back for us Quintus. There is no stopping this. I won't put my feelings on hold because of a man throwing a temper tantrum." And that was exactly how Cesare saw all of this. Hearing from Beau and witnessing for himself the chaos over the last few weeks. He couldn't imagine giving this man anymore resources aside from seeking him out and bringing him back for a proper execution. Which, Cesare was well within his rights to ask for after every attempt on not only his life but the other's as well. Who would dare to call him a liar if they'd say it about Quintus? "I refuse to allow myself or you or your brother live in that man's shadow any longer. He has no power over any of us anymore." His hands settled on his hips and he'd turned from Quin for a moment, careful of the mess on the floor still. He just had to gather himself, just needed to breath and take a moment. He knew Quin was scared, had every right to be and Cesare wouldn't take that away from him but he couldn't live like that. He saw what it had done to Quin over the years and he couldn't allow it to keep going.

"I love you." He spoke softly, watching the fire in the hearth dance around. He wanted to say this to his face but he thought better of it. "I won't hide that. I'd ring it from every church bell in Adros and every city and town and croft across this world. But time is not something that is a luxury for all." He hated saying that knowing his parents were laying in their tombs so prematurely but it was part of the reason he'd realized that dragging his feet with his feelings did no one any favors. "I want as much time with you as I can possibly have. I'm not asking you to marry me in the morning but don't ask me to wait any longer than I already have." It was then that he'd turned back around and looked at him.

"Quintus, I love you." He smiled so softly at him as he took back the small gap he'd left, clutching the other's hands tightly between his own before his could protest. "Please do me and the country of Adros the biggest service in marrying me." His fingers squeezed Quin's, drawing in quick breaths as he did so. "Please." He paused, feeling nothing but the coolness of Quin's hands. "Marry me, Quin."

[goldenboywrites]

It felt like he had a fever, but he knew he wasn’t sick. It was like Isaac’s touch was addicting, and Apollo was a relapsing addict. He grew frustrated at his boyfriend’s words because they weren’t kissing if he was talking. Apollo made up for it, though; he kissed Isaac’s jaw as he spoke. Truthfully, Apollo didn’t care about their fight any longer. He trusted that Isaac would be better with Cassio and Apollo would be better too. Even though Isaac’s words had hurt, Apollo knew he could rely less on Cassio and more on his boyfriend for anything involving the secrets he was keeping. It was always going to be them. Apollo felt that in his bones. He and Isaac had been made for each other, and yeah, the fighting sucked; he wouldn’t deny that, but nothing would ever be able to come in between them, Not Apollo’s secrets and certainly not Isaac’s insecurities regarding Cassio.

“I don’t want to go back down there,” Apollo said after Isaac commented on going back downstairs. He pouted, his lower lip sticking out. “They can figure it out.” He pushed Isaac’s shirt up, splaying his fingers across his bare chest. Fuck, the muscle and definition, and warmth of him amazed Apollo. The mere thought of breaking away from Isaac made Apollo want to cry. No, going downstairs wasn’t an option he was open to now. Staying up here in bed, ditching the clothes they had on, now that was an idea he was on board with. Apollo sighed happily when he finally wrestled Isaac’s shirt over his head. He brought his legs around his boyfriend’s waist, heels digging into his lower back to pull him closer. “Don’t be daft,” He scolded, lips connecting with the side of Isaac’s neck. He placed open-mouthed kisses down the column and then across his collarbone. “I could never be quick when it comes to you.” 

Apollo rolled them over, pushing Isaac onto his back and climbing over him. He straddled his boyfriend’s waist, working on unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down with his boxers in one go. He kicked off the fabric, annoyed that it was taking him away from Isaac for even half a minute. Apollo locked it with a flick of his wrist aimed at their bedroom door. The last thing they needed was Oliver bursting in through the door. Once he was settled with that, Apollo went to work on Isaac's clothes. As his fingers went to work pushing the offending fabric away, he leaned down, latching onto his boyfriend’s jaw and sucking a mark into it. “Baby,” He moaned, pressing his hips down urgently against Isaac’s. “Tell me what you want.”

________________

“I can see it,” Oliver said softly, memorizing how Cassio held Theodore in his arms. “You and me in a small flat with a couple of kids running around.” He smiled at the vision in his head, a light blush coating his cheeks. “We’ll make sure to do it correctly, yeah?” Oliver knew how Cassio, Apollo, and even himself had grown up—the whole pureblood nonsense. Cassio felt his parents didn’t want him, passing him off to his grandfather. Apollo had so much pressure placed on him at such a young age to be someone he wasn’t. Oliver, the baby of the family, was overlooked because his parents had been stretched too thin. “When the time is right, we’ll ensure they know they were wanted and loved.” He reached forward, brushing a strand of hair from Theodore’s face. “I know it’s weird that this one just showed up, and I can tell you and Apollo think it’s dangerous, that he’s risky, but I can’t see it. I hope he takes the role seriously if he is Apollo's son. Theodore deserves a father who is around.” 

Oliver fell into silence. He was just enjoying pressing his weight into Cassio and watching the little boy in his arms breathe in and out slowly as he slept. The silence went on until he heard a familiar thump of a headboard against the wall coming from up the stairs. His eyes widened comically, and he looked at Cass before bursting out into a fit of laughter. “Are they..??” He asked, face turning red as he laughed even harder. “Are they seriously…right now?” He covered his hands with his face, trying to quell his laughter in case it carried upstairs and the others heard him. “Holy shit, I can’t…I can’t believe this. Are we supposed just to chill down here while they make up?”

“Kind of assholes?” Cass mused playfully and found himself pressing closer into Oliver. The weight of the little boy fitting snuggly against him and he’d found himself more at ease the longer he allowed himself to have this moment. Because things like this were rare, as he’d come to know from his time when he was little. He gently moved his finger tips over the child’s cheek and soothed not only the boy, but himself as well. Because the question Oliver had posed wasn’t as simple as it had seemed to roll off his tongue. His upbringing was what most Pureblood families had continued through the centuries and eons of time doing. And that was to instill fear that if the line of their name did not pass then they were all failures. Little did his parents know that when they’d conceived him and a few years later, dumped him in with his great- grandfather, did they know they’d be ending that line all together. He’d made up his mind and upon meeting Apollo, he’d been convinced of his thoughts. 

But still he sat, knowing Oliver was just about out of patience for an answer. “When I think of the future,” he started, looking over at him just in total awe. “I think it is you and I.” He smiled so brightly he could barely help it. Nd maybe he didn’t want to for once. “And maybe a little one or two when we’re ready.” Because he wanted to make absolutely sure that neither of them would ever bring a child in to the world just leave them feeling as he or even Oliver had felt then. He understood that life was not always predictable but he’d like to think the both of them could agree and understand that of one another. “I meant what I said but I also don’t want to lose us just to have a family.” Oliver was important to Cass he would never put in to words. And that was his own fault. But Oliver knew, Cass had always made sure to leave the man cuddled so close, in complete and utter understanding that his life and his love were always and only ever Oliver’s. 

Cass shifted his weight around, jostling the child into a more comfortable position for all of them. His soft breath panted against Cass’ shoulder now and found himself humming softly for just a moment. “I know we haven’t spoken much about it yet but that’s what I’d like.” His lips drew a lazy smile and he’d bent in to kiss Oliver just so softly. “As long as you’re in it then I have no other desire but that and I’d be happy.”

________________

The hard knot that had formed in his gut was not at all unforseen. If anything it made him feel infinitely worse that it was playing out exactly as intended. Apollo was like putty in his hand and he hated himself for it. But wasn’t this what you wanted? He’d sworn he’d never use his influence to his advantage but wasn’t keeping him here worth it? If for no other reason than the boy needed both of them. They had to figure this out and it was impossible if they were fighting and separated. Isaac was not going to deny him what he was asking but perhaps there could be a way to skirt it for later. While a part of him was thrilled at the idea of completely owning Apollo to where everyone could hear. Petty bitch. 

Isaac slid his knee on the bed and moved the other on the outside of Apollo’s hip. His weight settling upon his thigh and he instantly found himself right at home with the man beneath him. “We ha’e all the time I’ the world.” He mused, ducking in to kiss this man with a vigor that felt so natural he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. His soft curls brushed both of their brows and the soft smack of their lips filled his ears. They made a music that truly was something for just the two of them. Their lips parted and Isaac tasted this man. Syrup and a faint taste of tobacco filled his senses which made it all the more difficult to finally break away from him because, as much as he hated it, they still had something to take care of. 

Isaac sat back and placed his hands gently on Apollo’s chest, tracing simple shapes as he did so. “I will be betta ‘bou’ thin’s.” And that was the truth, he didn’t promise to be perfect or that it would be instant but after feeling the small jolt he had when he was with Cassio and Oliver, he felt a fraction differently. He couldn’t explain why or how but something felt a little less wrong. “I promise.” Their eyes finally locked and Isaac couldn’t help the dreamy smile on his face, his hands had snaked back under his shirt and the warmth of his skin loosened Isaac’s hold on himself. It’d been a moment since he’d got him like this. Granted it was under false pretenses but seeing him a little unburdened, even from under his influence, it was nice. 

“We can’ hide up here much longer.” He cooed gently, the feeling of regret lightening in his chest at how they’d ended up. Isaac found himself bending back on to kiss each corner of the other’s mouth and he sighed so softly. It was another moment and their lips found each other again. He couldn’t help himself. Perhaps it was the fear of the unknown and the fight. Maybe he’d influenced himself. It had been a while since he’d used any sort of magic in that way too. Merlin knew what was going on with him but he just couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Unless ya thin’ ya can be quick.” He teased, tugging the others lower lip out before letting it bounce back into its normal shape. The dare dangling between them and he felt electric.

[goldenboywrites]

“No,” Marcus replied with a soft huff of laughter. It was cute that Professors Korolenko thought Marcus would be significant enough to look at his file, but no. The Headmaster hadn’t offered that information up to him. He would lie if he said he wasn’t curious about the contents. “I barely opened my trunk before the Headmaster requested my presence.” He hmmed at the man’s answer, brows raising in surprise. He had seen that creature containment would be a new class this year. A test run or something. Marcus had signed up for it, hoping it would be an easy passing grade. His other coursework this year was going to be heavy. “I’m taking that,” He said with a lopsided grin. “It’s not every year Hogwarts introduces a new class, so I was eager to see what it was all about. From what I’ve heard, a lot of students are excited. The class actually filled up in record time.” And how lucky was Marcus Coventry that he was the first student to meet the professor?  

Marcus blushed, the best of the best; the professor’s words rang out in his ears. He wished or, well, he tried to be. “Something like that,” He said, smirking at the other. Marcus was never one to downplay his achievements. He was proud of keeping his grades up, being a prefect, and playing Quidditch. Now, here he was in his final year as Headboy. “I guess it’s important to me to be the best. I want to keep all of my options open when I graduate.” He was good enough that if he set his mind to Quidditch he felt good that he could go pro with Alex. He had the grades in all the right classes if he wanted to enter Auror training. But beyond that, it had always been important to him to be one of the best because all of the pureblood families looked down on him. 

He led them down to the lake as they talked. Marcus stepped onto the dock first, looking back at Nikolai. “Come on,” He ushered, beckoning the man forward. “I’ll show you a trick.” 

Marcus moved towards the end of the dock. “About me?” He laughed, the idea of it absolutely absurd because Marcus had always been an open book, but he had had a rough summer. Revelations and hidden family secrets coming to light. It was a sore subject he was trying hard to come to terms with. “I found out I was adopted,” He said, the hurt he felt twisted into his words. Surprisingly, saying it out loud for the first time felt good. Tell someone else those words and not feel the sudden shame over it. “It was a weird summer.” Marcus bent down, sitting at the edge of the dock, his feet dangling over the water. “I think I’m coming to terms with all of it. Not being at home helps, and school will be a nice distraction.” He reached into his pockets, pulling out a small pouch. Marcus opened it, shaking out some pieces of wrapped candy. 

“The giant squid will come up to the surface for saltwater taffy,” He explained as he unwrapped the pieces. “It’s her guilty pleasure, and well, when you’re out on patrol, it’s boring. I’ve tried other candies, but this is the only one guaranteed to work.” He threw the first one across the lake; it hit right in the center. “Come,” He said, patting the spot next to him. “Enjoy the show.” The water started to ripple slightly at first and then larger and larger until the squid broke through the water. Her tentacles spread out as she emerged. Marcus grinned, beaming up at her. Then he turned to Nikolai, who had joined him, and pressed the rest of the candy into his palm. “Go on, you try.”

meet me in the woods

Marcus breathed it all in slowly. There was nothing quite like returning to Hogwarts. This time, it was bittersweet. He was bitter because he was in his seventh year, his last year attending the school, and coming out of a bad breakup with his first-ever boyfriend. Sweet because he had been named Headboy, and Alex had been named Quidditch captain. It would be their year; he felt it in his bones. He had left his sixth year feeling sorry for himself, with lower marks than usual, and slightly depressed because Declan hadn’t taken him seriously, but Marcus refused to be that boy again this year. 

When he arrived at his solo dorm (courtesy of being head boy), a letter from the headmaster from the headmaster was waiting for him on his bed, requesting a meeting after he settled in. Marcus unpacked quickly, changed into his brand-new Gryffindor robes, and then took a moment to soak it all in. This was everything he had worked for and wanted, and he achieved it, even after having been so horrible and distracted last year. 

It did not take him long to get to the headmaster’s office, and when he arrived, Marcus saw that he wasn’t alone. Tall, blonde, and handsome sat in front of the headmaster’s desk, the two men whispering to each other. 

“Marcus,” the headmaster greeted as he stepped in. The man beckoned him to take a seat next to the stranger. He did, after realizing he had stopped breathing and was staring at the man. Meet our new professor, Nikolai Korolenko. He came here from Durmstrang to spend his first year teaching with us.” The headmaster spoke proudly, almost bragging about poaching this man from Durmstrang. “Nikolai,” He said as Marcus looked between them. “This is one of our brightest students and head boy, Marcus Coventry. I’ve brought him here to have him show you around the school before the term starts. I know you’ve been settling in already, but seeing the school from a student’s perspective may benefit you.” The headmaster smiled, and Marcus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wanted to know what class Professor Korolenko was going to teach. He wanted to ensure he was in that class so he could spend the better part of his day getting lost in the stare of those blue eyes. 

Then he realized he would have to spend time with the professor, showing him around. Fuck. Marcus doubted he could handle that without making a complete ass of himself. But no, he needed to remember that this was his year. He wouldn’t let blonde, strong, attractive men intimidate him. He was head boy, for Merlin’s sake, and on the Quidditch team. He could do this. He could be the perfect head boy and impress the fuck out of this young, clearly talented professor. Depending on what he would teach, maybe Marcus could find a mentor. 

After a few moments, Marcus realized both men were staring at him. Dammit. He laughed forcefully and smiled at the headmaster. “I would be honored.” 

Both Marcus and Professor Korolenko stood up. Marcus’ elbow brushed the man’s arm, sending little electric shocks through his body. Weird. “Oh, Marcus,” He turned at the headmaster’s voice, raising a brow at the man. “Show Professor Korolenko the grounds first.” Marcus nodded confirmation. 

They walked through the castle side by side. Marcus glanced at the man occasionally to see him deep in thought. “Why the grounds?” Marcus asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Are you teaching Care of Magical Creatures or something? I know the grounds quite well, so it’s no bother,” He said, smiling at the professor. “I spent a lot of time patrolling the border of the forest when I was a prefect and probably will do the same this year as head boy. You know, stick to what you know, right?” He laughed nervously, and they exited the castle. The brisk, cool fall air settled around them. Marcus lead them down the stone steps toward the forest line. “Anything specific you feel like seeing?”

@magiclwritings

[goldenboywrites]

Dodger snorted, tossing his head back with bubbling laughter. “My favorite color is red.” It was cliche, but Flynn didn’t need to know that. It wasn’t just because he lived off of blood but because it was a color that complimented his skin tone and was powerful and commanding. “And my grandmother never made me sweaters.” Dodger’s grandmother hadn’t even known his name when he was alive. His parents rarely ever saw her, and it had been a long, long time until any of his past living relatives had been alive. At that moment, he realized he couldn’t even remember what his parents looked like. “My family wasn’t the homemade kinda of crowd.” But he couldn’t get into his family; it would leave too many unanswered questions. 

“Something fun?” He repeated, eyes lighting up at the offer. He could still feel the wetness from Flynn’s tongue, and Dodger wanted more. It was so much fun playing with your food. “Do you like games?” He asked, raising a brow. Dodger then slipped out of Flynn’s grasp, walking around him until his chest was pressed against the man’s back. He covered the slayer’s eyes with a cool hand and brought his lips down to his ear. “Close your eyes and count to fifteen,” He whispered hotly in his ear. Dodger’s other hand pressed to Flynn’s stomach, fingers teasingly dipping beneath his jeans. “Once you open them, you have five minutes to come and catch me.” Dodger snapped the waistband of Flynn’s boxers, taking his hands away and stepping back from the human. “If you win, I’ll tell you something fun.” 

He took off as Flynn started counting, looking back on the dancefloor to see his eyes were still closed. He went up to the second level, watched Flynn’s eyes open, and started looking around for him. Dodger hung his hands over the side of the railing and watched as he moved towards the bar, shuffling through people. It was fascinating to watch him seek Dodger out. He wasn’t sure if it was due to his instincts as a slayer or if Flynn was in tune with Dodger because of their mutual attraction. Three minutes left. Flynn had moved from the bar to the bathrooms, looping around bar tables and people. At a minute and a half left, Flynn turned around, eyes narrowed into concentration, and their gazes snapped together. Flynn moved towards the stairs and Dodger pushed away from the railing, moving further down towards the private rooms. 

When Flynn found him, ten seconds were left on the clock. Dodger was leaning against the closed door, arms crossed over his chest. “Impressive,” he purred softly. Up here, the music wasn’t as loud. Flynn came to stand before him; a light sheen of sweat coated his face from running around downstairs. His heart was pounding against his ribcage; Dodger could hear its rhythmic thumping. Beautiful. He was eager to get Flynn under him, trace his tongue along the hard contours of his muscles, and press his mouth and tongue against inches of skin that housed all of his major arteries. Without looking away from Flynn, Dodger reached for the doorknob, letting the door to the room swing open. “I’ve never been in one of these rooms before,” He said shyly, nodding towards the empty room. It was a lie. Dodger had set them up for the club, keeping them fully stocked and comfortable. Darian, and Dodger on occasion, handled business deals here. “But I’ve heard rumors that they’re well stocked and comfy. I thought it might be nice to continue talking and getting to know each other somewhere quieter.” He smirked, dragging his gaze down the slayer’s body before meeting his eyes again. “What do you think?”

That smoothness was almost too much. But gods did it feel good to just let it happen in that moment. Granted, without that creep he'd be nowhere near as close but he'd take it. Even this man's smell was almost too good to be true. He'd have to make sure to avoid this one after tonight. Too much distraction was not going to work in his favor. Not when they were so close to getting the bastard they'd been after for he couldn't even remember how long. Well before his time joining the cause. What a joke.

"I'd have to say I agree." Flynn purred right back at him. Since he'd been shown already, the man's hands traveled back up the other's back and brought their bodies back together. The way they ground together and the feel of his skin was just electric. He'd have sworn there were some sort of popper or something else in his own drink if he hadn't watched it be poured himself. "Maybe you'll show me around some time?" He asked, not really needing an answer. He'd been through a hook up before and this was shaping up to be quite a memorable one.

Without warning, Flynn slid his face in against Dodger's, their cheeks pressed together as his hand slid up the other's spine and dug his nails in between his shoulder blades. The man at the bar was all but forgotten in that moment. The hard beats vibrated through the pair of them and forced the human to fight back a perfectly normal reflex he was having. His tongue poked out and lightly ran along the other's jaw just ever so lightly. The taste of salt excited him more than he thought and Flynn involuntarily grunted against his skin. And the grin grew as he pulled back and looked at him. The feel of his arms around his neck was odd but in the best sort of way.

Flynn slid his hand back down the other's back and both came to rest on his hips. Now that he'd had more than his fill, he needed the distraction to keep him from disregarding his entire reason for being there. "What else can you tell me?" He questioned, eyes focused on Dodger's now. The room felt just as chaotic as it had in the moments he'd lost to the intoxication he felt from this man but still he felt himself grappling to stay in coherence more and more. "And please no my favorite color is cerulean or I still have a sweater that my nan knitted me from when I was a boy." Both of which were true for him but he digressed. "Something fun."

[goldenboywrites]

“No, not a knight,” Beckett replied, crossing his arms over his chest. He propped his foot against a tree trunk, steadying himself while waiting for Grady to dress. While he had appreciated the foreign, form-fitting clothes the man had been wearing when they met, he was eager to see how he looked in clothing Beck was familiar with. “A King. Forgive me for the lie earlier. I wasn’t sure if you were who I was looking for or if you were a trap laid out by my brother. I was lucky to escape unscathed from his first assassination attempt on me; I’m not eager to test my luck again.” 

And then Grady came into his view. Beckett’s eyes scanned the man’s body, nodding his approval at the clothes. Seeing him like that…Beck’s eyes twinkled with memories from his past coming up to the surface, memories he had buried so long ago. He tried not to think about it, but seeing Grady looking like that, looking like him. It was impossible not to remember. “Here,” He moved towards Grady, gripping his shoulder, and lightly guided the man back to the fire the others had started. “Let’s get you warmed up and some food, and I will go over it again.” He had to be patient with the man. Beckett didn’t know where he came from or what had happened to him. Grady appeared to be in some state of shock. It was a lot for the man to handle in one night. 

He settled next to Grady at the fire, stretching his arms and legs out so the flames would warm him. It wasn’t long before Elias returned to the pair, handing them plates of cooked meat and various fruits they had gathered while on the road. “My father passed away two years ago, and I was coronated right after his passing. My brother, my half-brother, was expecting to sit on the throne. He and our father were always so much closer, but my father next set that in stone, and the council wouldn’t appoint a bastard to be King, and rightfully, by birth, I was next in line. I thought my brother had understood. A couple of months ago, he requested a meeting with me one night, and when I went to receive him, he had a group of men with them. They staged a body and created a scene to make it look like I fought and lost. His men sold me to a neighboring country, one loyal to my brother’s rule, and I was held as a slave there until my men, the ones we are with now, found me.” 

Beckett grew quiet, playing with the fruit on his plate but not attempting to eat anything. “I can’t say for sure what you are meant to be to my cause, Grady,” He explained, looking up and staring at the flames licking into the air. “I always thought it was just a story made up by past kings, but it is said that if a king of my line goes to the temple when in need of help, help will be provided. I went to the temple tonight to do that, and you turned up like magic. I was actually,” Beckett twisted his body to face Grady, aiming a soft smile at him, “I was hoping you could tell me how you being here would help get me back in my rightful place as king.”

There weren't a lot of things that had ever truly knocked Grady on his ass before. And that was truly saying something. The amount of things and situations he'd found himself in before, he'd led a bit of a colorful life. But as he stood with clothing in his hands that resembled something more like a sack maybe than anything else, Grady truly started to feel the weight of whatever this was. It wasn't a high or any kind of drug. That much very clear to him but he couldn't for the life of him couldn't understand how any of it had happened. There was no logical reason for him to end up anywhere but the twentieth century. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. The clothes clutched to his chest, Grady was trying to talk himself out of whatever was trying to clutter his head and send him spiraling.

It was than that he'd realized Beck had stopped speaking. His eyes popped open and he desperately tried to hear the last few things he'd said. Grady slowly stripped off his jacket and the soaked t-shirt underneath. He'd begun to wring them both out before he'd replied back to the man. Because, honestly, what was this conversation? "So not just a knight?" He settled on, finding a strange sensation from the well placed sarcasm. At least that hadn't change. His fingers ran over the dry clothing again before he'd tugged the shirt over his head. The low cut neck he hadn't expected but he supposed this was just a simple piece for under armor or something of the sort.

It was another moment before he spoke again. He'd allowed the feel of the shirt to settle against him and he'd decided it was okay. "So," He started, struggling out of the wet pants and socks, then came the boxer shorts. The cool air caused his skin to flush and a wave of gooseflesh took over. He shook and pulled the dry pants on quickly, deciding that he definitely enjoyed having dry clothing again. "Dead King, kingdom in disarray and an axe to grind for you." Grady gathered up his things, being careful that none of his things fell from the pockets. He wasn't entirely sure how they'd react to having electronics anywhere near them. How was he going to get by without them? He supposed he was going to find out the hard way. And even that was something to wrap his head around.

Grady ran his fingers through his hair and let his slowly drying curls lay where they may. He'd moved back into view of Beck and found himself unsure of if he were to bow or not. He wondered just how many royal decrees or ordinances he'd broken in the first ten minutes of him being in ... Esteriss? "It sounds like you've got a tall order for me to fill." He couldn't help the small smile that came to his lips because honestly, that was probably one of the most ridiculous things he'd ever heard and he'd lived his entire life in Chicago. There were worse things that could have been said but for him to be a savior of sorts was definitely not on his to do list in life. "Forgive me." He said raising his hands slowly, adjust the wet garments onto his arm. "What exactly happened to you? I feel I may be missing some information." If he could just get some kind of grasp on exactly what was going on then maybe he could help. Fat chance of that. "I just ... I want to make sure I understand exactly what it is you think I can help you with because I would .." He paused, stepping closer, his head dipping slightly. "I'd like to help if I may." Because what the hell else did he have?

[goldenboywrites]

When he was younger, he thought he wasn’t a being made to be loved. It was a notion drilled into him since before he could remember. He had heard the voice all of his life, his uncle’s whispers that Quin would only ever have him, that no one would ever look beyond what had been done to him, and that no one would understand him the way his uncle did. Quin had never thought he would make it to this point, telling another person what had happened to him. With his nefarious plans, his uncle had somehow forced his hand. There were now too many questions regarding the two of them for the truth to lay dormant. While cutting himself open and laying his truth bare did, in a way, feel like he was killing himself, he also felt a huge weight lift off of his shoulders at telling it and telling it to someone who would hold his secrets close to his heart. Quin had always feared this moment but realized it was a release. It was nothing to fear. 

He felt the air shift as Cesare tiptoed toward him, and he prepared himself for the inevitable touch that came with the prince’s closeness. Quin felt relief as the arms enclosed him. He listened as Cesare spoke, and while he knew his words were genuine and honest, Cesare wasn’t thinking about the future of his nation. He was thinking like a regular man, not as a king. “Eventually,” Quin spoke softly, leaning into Cesare’s touch as he wiped the tears from his cheeks, “You will be king of Adros, Cesare, and while you can understand what happened to me and you have accepted it but if it ever gets out your people will not. I will be a disgrace on your rule, a stain, and I don’t want that for you.” Quin sighed, tilting his head back to look up at Cesare. It was moments like this where he wished comfort and touch came as easily to him as it did to Cesare. “I will not be selfish and gamble with your future.” 

Quin went to push himself away, but Cesare’s arms around him tightened. The prince huffed his disapproval but relented on any actual separation of space between them. “Of course, I want this. I want us. It’s all I’ve ever wanted and all I’ve ever thought of. You have filled every thought in my mind since I met you, and I spent years fighting it and cursing you, but it’s only ever been you. It could only ever be you for me, but I-” Quin closed his eyes with an annoyed groan. He leaned into Cesare’s chest, tucking his head beneath the prince’s chin. “I feel guilt moving forward with you, knowing what my past may cost you. I don’t want you to end up resenting me.” He felt Cesare shift and knew a rebuttal was coming. Quin’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned back, reaching up with his hand and sealing his palm over his mouth. “No, don’t. You can’t promise you won’t resent me, and I don’t want to hear it. You aren’t thinking like a king, Cesare. You’re thinking with your heart and probably your penis but not with your brain.” 

“I don’t know what the right thing to do is,” Quin confessed after a moment, wrapping his arms around Cesare’s waist. “I know what feels right. This feels right, but I can’t help but have a lingering fear that it will fall apart like everything else I touch.” He smoothed his hand along the prince’s back, silent for a few minutes as he organized his thoughts. “If I-” He cut himself off, his lips flattening into a thin line. He didn’t want something to fight for that wasn’t solely Maximus’ life when he went up against his uncle because he knew that could end with his death. Quin was still focused on getting Maximus out of his war alive, but Cesare changed the game; he gave Quin something to live for, and it ruined everything. "I don't think we should decide or move forward with anything until my uncle is dealt with. Too much is still in the air, and we don't know how it will play out."

His feet hit the floor at the sound of the crash but the prince of Adros did not step one more toe further than that. What Quin was telling him, explaining and maybe talking out with himself in a way could not be interrupted. It was a rare moment when he was so candid and while this truly was not a truth Cesare wanted to hear, he needed to. Because hearing it all from Beau was one thing but to see the ramifications of it hit so wholly on Quin, there was no other proof he'd ever needed than his word but any doubt or question that had been brought up about the man before him was dashed. Because as he'd explained pieces and parts started to fall into place for the prince. Even his last visit to the castle, there was suggestion that Quintus was unwell but no one had ever clarified what sort of unwell. Just that he had always been a constant state of it. Even Max had said it a time or two.

The bitter taste of iron snapped him out of the momentum of Quin's confession and he'd realized he'd been biting down on his lip nearly the entire time. It wasn't any wonder, being that still while being that sort of information was terrible to stomach. And then he'd instantly felt ashamed for feeling as though he had a worse time than the man explaining his truth. The ache in his chest started to grow and grow. Seeing him so bare, so raw was never something Cesare thought he'd see in all his life. Quintus had always been a pillar of sly, cunning that he found to be something of a wonder and a pleasure. It was why after only a little while knowing him that the prince knew he'd one day ask for his hand. Even Max had known for years that was going to be the way of it. Cesare ate out of his hands and would have done anything but something struck him in a way he hadn't expected. Not you. And it had occurred to him then that Quin had expected him to save him. To see him then. The contents of his stomach started to gurgle at the thought he really took a moment to himself for that. Because maybe he had known all along. Maybe there had been tells and he'd ignored them because the rest of their court had.

Cesare swallowed hard and quietly moved around from where he'd stood. Quin's words were processed as they came. And he knew from that moment on that there would always be two halves to Quin. There would be a Quin that was light and bright, one that enjoyed sparring with his brother for fun and telling Cesare and Xander ridiculous plots to get them going for an afternoon of whatever he'd had planned. The prince drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Because the other part of Quin would always exist elsewhere. And that's what he would call it. For those dirty, grimy things that Quin was certain would remain for him. And Cesare could love him in both. He knew he could because hadn't he been already? Quin said he hadn't noticed but wasn't he always with Quin whenever it was possible? Excusing his guards in favor of his own protection when he was near?

He was careful to not step on the food or meade on the floor as he made his way closer. The fur on Quin's back heaved and he didn't stutter, Cesare laid a firm hand upon him and brought his other around his front to clutch him to his own body. His face pressed into the mess of Quin's hair and he hugged him so tightly. And they stayed like that for quite a few moments before anything was said. Quin had to know that just because he knew about what had happened with his uncle, it hadn't changed things. It wouldn't.

"I owe you nothing." He said plainly, planting a soft kiss to soft spot just under the other's ear as he'd shifted and moved Quin to look at him. This was the first time he'd ever truly seen fear in this man's face and it did something to the prince that was indescribable. And in that moment he'd known, by whatever means necessary, he'd bring that man to his knees. "Just as you owe me nothing." Damn him for taking something so precious away from him. For ruining his outlook on anything he'd ever have in his life. Cesare gently cupped Quin's face and his thumbs moved so slowly to wipe the bit of moisture from his cheeks. "But I cannot be whole if you are not with me, Quintus." He tried to smile but it felt more watery than anything else. His eyes fell between them for a moment and a few tears managed to squeeze their way out. He hadn't expected to feel this as deeply as he had but he should have anticipated it, knowing Quin, it was always something unexpected.

"I've waited longer than I would have liked to when it comes to asking you." He paused, swallowing hard and he looked back up at him, eyes still bright with a few unshed tears. "And I hadn't planned on tieing our engagement in with something like this but Quin." He drew in a deep breath shakily and sighed just the same. "I meant it. And I do mean it. Nothing can change my mind on this." His fingers scooped back to cup the back of his head and he felt himself starting to tremble inwardly from being so honest. "Only if you do not wish to marry me would I agree to that but this changes nothing." He thought a moment and found himself unable to stop from pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love you, Quintus. Not the things that were done to you. Though ... " He paused, finding himself a little flustered at it all. "Though that is a part of you and I will find ways to live with and love it too." As he pulled down to look at him again, he felt some of that unease starting to slide into the back of his mind. "If you do not wish Max to know then he doesn't need to." That wasn't his place to interject. Though he thought maybe Quin would tell him in his own time. "My loyalty is to Vivec and your brother as friends and allies but, to you, I am always loyal first no matter what."

[goldenboywrites]

“Apollo?” A voice called out from the earpiece of his phone. “Are you there?” His first instinct was to fight the arms against him. He was hurt, and Isaac knew it, but Apollo had always been touch-starved and could already feel the anger leaking out of his bones. “I’m here,” He said, leaning back against Isaac’s chest. He closed his eyes and sucked in an audible breath before continuing, “I’m getting a shipment at work tomorrow, and I can’t be there.” He cleared his throat. Isaac’s fingers pressed into his bare skin, leaving a fire trail in their wake. “Can you stop by and sign for me?” After her confirmation and ignoring her questions about what he was busy with, Apollo hung up the phone. 

He tucked his phone back into his pocket, his body erupting into goosebumps as Isaac’s lips pressed against his skin. Apollo turned to face him, careful not to break Isaac’s hold on him. He knew he should still be upset that he was upset for a valid reason, but Apollo found he was too exhausted to hold onto that anger any longer. “I won’t go,” He said softly, leaning forward to press his forehead against Isaac’s. “I’ll stay.”Apollo wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, pressing his body closer to Isaac’s warmth, craving it in ways he had thought impossible. Still, Isaac always had the power to make Apollo long for more. 

“But,” He said after a quiet moment, “You have to work out your shit with Cassio.” Apollo tangled his fingers through Isaac’s curls, tilting the man’s face down to look at him. “Because I won’t choose between you two. I can’t. If it comes down to that, I will walk away from both of you.” He wouldn’t, couldn’t, because that would probably kill Apollo, but it was the best threat he had in his back pocket, but Isaac was never one to call him out of his bluffs. He knew just how stubborn the man could be. “Don’t make me do that.” 

Apollo leaned forward, nudging his nose against Isaac’s, and kissed the man softly, reassuringly. He had spent years kissing Isaac at this point, but this time, it sent tingles down his spine. It felt like kissing him for the first time in that maze back at university. Apollo moaned softly, deepening their kiss, his grip on Isaac’s hair tightening, tugging gently. He felt warm and couldn’t stop pulling Isaac towards the bed. He knew, vaguely in the back of his mind, that Cassio and Oliver were downstairs with the kid, but everything inside of him was telling him they would wait. “Isaac,” Apollo said his name gently after breaking away from their kiss, the back of his knees hitting the bed, and Apollo’s body came down on top of it next. His body felt feverish, or maybe because this was his favorite part post-fight, the making-up bit. “Come here,” Apollo all but purred. He took his fingers through the loop of his boyfriend’s pants, tugging him forward until he was nestled in between Apollo’s legs. “We have time, come here.”

________________

“Hey, so,” Oliver said, turning his head up to look at Cassio. After Isaac had left to go makeup with Apollo, he snuggled under the blond’s arm, leaning into his side. It had been almost ten minutes of silence from upstairs, and to be fair, Oliver had expected them to be back down by now. It only took a glance from Theodore, seeing Oliver and Cassio cuddling, before the toddler abandoned his toys and approached them. His head rested on Cass’ thigh, and he was fighting the lull of sleep. “What you said earlier?” Oliver tilted his head back onto Cassio’s shoulder, soothingly moving his fingers through Theodore’s hair. It was wild how he had only known the boy for an hour, and it already felt like he had known him his entire life. It wasn’t saying much because Oliver typically loved everyone within ten minutes of meeting them, but he was fond of the little guy. Sure, it was weird that he remembered events he wasn’t present for, but he was just a kid. How bad could the real story be? 

“Is that something you want, you know, in the future?” he asked. The kids with me part remained unspoken, but Oliver figured Cassio would catch his drift. “I’ve always been kind of torn. Coming from a huge family like mine was always overwhelming and sucked sometimes. But on the other hand, I have a massive support system when I need it, and even though my brothers are kind of assholes, they do tend to always pull through for me, and I don’t know who I would be without them. I-” He paused, looking back at Cassio to judge his reaction. “I mean, I don’t want as many kids as my parents had, but I think two would be nice. They’ll always have each other that way. What, um, do you think when you think about the future?”

He itched to run after Apollo. This was too hard not actually getting to speak to him and trying to keep up his own act. Because if he were being honest, he was scared that this could be more than they were able to see in that moment. His hand squeezed his boyfriend's tightly and he managed to smile for him. "Honestly?" He asked, his shoulders shrugging deep. There was no telling what was the right answer. But he did know they couldn't run. Together was safest for them all at the moment as far as he was concerned. "I don't think we should leave. I know that Isaac is .." He swallowed and shook his head. "He's upset just like Apollo and I can't blame either of them. I wouldn't know what to do either." He offered the smallest of smiles to him and decided to settle in against him, watching the little boy reluctantly clean up all of his things.

"I do know this." He started, shyly looking up at him from under his lashes. "I can't leave you alone with a line of credit when there's a child around." He laughed softly, winking at Theo when he showed him yet another gift Oliver had went through all the trouble to pick out for the little one. Cass brought their hands up against his lips and gently kissed each of his knuckles lightly. "I think you'd make a great dad." His voice was soft and he let their fingers rest against his lips after he'd said it, feeling the weight of it. But more so realizing that he wasn't opposed to this for them. Which scared the hell out of him.

_________________________

Isaac stood so still he wasn't entirely sure he was breathing at that moment. He'd brought that on himself and he knew it. And maybe it was a little of an exaggeration, just a little. But who would have completely acted perfectly having this thrown in their lap. Isaac knew deep down that the way Apollo felt for Cassio wasn't as it had felt to him, but how did he explain that? They'd always discussed how difficult things had been for Apollo growing up but Isaac hadn't the easiest go of it either. Being veela was hard enough, no matter the amount, but to be a male one? He'd struggled through what came easily to the women of his kind but he thought himself mostly well adjusted. Well, he had until he'd encountered the other men under this roof.

He drew in a deep breath, feeling the headache start to swell behind his eye and he'd cursed under his breath. If he didn't get this back under control and his sister showed up, they were worse for wear. Though, a woman's hand might not be the worst .. Stop. He'd exhaled and found himself staring at the door. There was no chance in hell that the pair, and the boy, hadn't heard that and so there was no point in pretending. Isaac fixed his face, wiping away the tear streaks he hadn't realized were there and he pushed open the door with his own flair. Isaac strolled into the room as if nothing had happened. Because for now, it hadn't, if he were going to do this, then the most positive mood had to be in the forefront of his mind. He'd hate himself for it later but if you had it, why not use it.

"Olive'h" He smiled and turned to Cass and nodded, "Cass. I thin' we maybe are a bi' ove'whelmed." Because that was the understatement of the century. He was careful to touch them both on their knees just so. He'd peeked over his shoulder at the little boy and smiled brightly at him. It was then he'd felt a tightness in his chest and it nearly overwhelmed him how much that little smile truly brightened his whole mood. His attention shot back to the other two and he cleared his throat. His hands started to feel warm from the contact and soon their faces began to soften and grow to almost glow. "If ya wouldn' min' jus' keepin' an eye o' him fo' jus' a momen'." Cass' cheeks were damn near red at that moment and it was then that Isaac saw, perhaps for the first time that he hadn't looked at him once in those few moments. No, his attention was solely on Oliver and he felt as if he'd been invading a private moment between them. "An' .." He started, slowly coming to stand and withdrawing his influence to a softer ray. "'m sorry i' ya heard us in there it's jus ..."

"It's okay. Maddox's aren't easy." And the two of them, Isaac and Cassio looked at each other and smiled in some sort of understanding in that moment. I nodded and excused himself to their room where he heard Apollo on the phone. He was already too late. Well ...

Isaac walked right in and closed the door behind him. He'd felt the glare from Apollo while he had the phone pressed to his ear but he advanced on him quickly. This could only work if he didn't give Apollo a chance to dodge him. His arms wrapped around the man from the back and Isaac pressed his cheek to the back of Apollo's neck. The direct contact to flesh had always been better, especially for him since his claim was less than half. "'m sorry." He whispered, those salt water streaks coming back to litter his cheeks and soak the other's shirt. He didn't care. If it meant he didn't leave, didn't go where Isaac couldn't follow then it would be worth it. And maybe he'd be mad at him after, maybe he'd not even tell him but that was something he'd have to wrestle with later.

"Please don' go." He didn't care if he could be heard but he had a sinking feeling she was already on her way. "I don' wan' ya to thin' I don' pick this i's jus' ...." He felt his breath catch and he paused, clutching Apollo tighter, his face moving until his lips brushed against the sharp angle of his hair line. "We can do this jus' don' leave." He felt his magic warming his own body and he went further, his fingertips shoving up underneath of Apollo's shirt. The contact felt like it was going to melt him but in the best way possible. "Please?"

[goldenboywrites]

Quin moved to the end of the bed, his feet touched the ground, and he held his head in his hands, pressing his fingers against his pounding temples. He had anticipated Beau telling Cesare, but he hadn’t thought Cesare could contain himself with the knowledge. Why had he held onto it so long? Quin had to poke and prod to get him to admit it. Was he just never going to say anything about it? If Cesare had known this entire time, then he knew when he told his father and Maximus he still planned to marry Quin. But how could he even want to marry him after knowing all this? There were missing parts of Quin, parts of himself that were taken from him. He was ruined. Quin laughed bitterly and desperately, his stomach heaving as his body went against his control of it. He moved to wrap his arms around his stomach, tears brimming as he laughed and laughed and laughed. “I don’t care about what happened between you and Beau in that room.” At one point, he had, but it paled in comparison to Cesare knowing the truth.

He wiped the wetness from his eyes and stood up from the bed. He dragged a fur blanket with him, covering his upper body. Quin leaned against the wall opposite Cesare’s bed, then dragged his gaze up from the floor to meet his. “It’s only fair you know the truth,” He said softly, tilting his head back until he hit the wall. “And yes, I imagine Beau wasn’t kind about it. When I was…” Quintus inhaled, closing his eyes for a moment, “When I outgrew my uncle’s taste, he found Beau to replace me so he could have a younger version of me. Though I suspect Beau was too malleable for his tastes. His favorite thing has always been the fight, and I was too young and weak ever to win.” 

“You know the worst part about it?” Quin kicked off of the wall, cutting the distance between them in half. He stopped at Cesare’s desk, tilting a hip against it. “I thought I could endure it while my father and Maximus were at war. I was alone in that castle with him, and I took it; I swallowed it down because I didn’t have any other choice. I was twelve years old when it first happened. No one was there to help me anyway, but then they came back with you along with them, and I thought, ‘thank gods this is it’. I wouldn’t have to suffer any longer.”

Quin sighed, shaking his head. He slashed his arm across the top of the desk, sending the pitcher of mead and the tray of food crashing to the floor. “I was a fucking fool to think that would make a difference. Having them back in the castle made it worse and made him more determined. I suffered at his hands for years, and no one noticed. I was a child coming to breakfast hungover and limping, and no one noticed. Not my father, not my brother, not you.” He gripped the edge of the desk until his fingers turned white, until they ached as he ached inside for years. “The only thing that stopped him was time, and when he no longer possessed the ability to hunt me in my bed chambers, he went after my parents and then my brother and I.” 

“Beau will never be free, Cesare,” Quin said softly. “Just like I will never be free. He will always hold the pieces he took from us. I know you think you can save us. I know you want to save us, but we will never recover what he took from us. Even if he is dead, there will still be days where having hands on me makes my skin crawl and itch. There will still be nights when I dream of his weight and breath on me, and I wake up sick. His hands have permanently tainted me, and it isn’t something that I come back from.” 

He pulled the blanket tighter around himself, wishing it would swallow him whole. “You deserve someone whole, and I know you won’t do it because you think you owe me something or because you pity me now that you know, but I don’t expect you to go through with marrying me. I wouldn’t if I were you, and to save your reputation with my brother, I will take the heat and call it off so you aren’t the bad guy. Just…” He sucked in a breath, feeling a knot in the center of his throat. “Please don’t tell Max what he did to me. It will kill him, and I can’t… I can’t,” Quin’s breath puffed out between the words, his chest heaving with movement. “I can’t have him know.”

Cesare felt the air around him still and chill in the same stroke. His eyes narrowed on Quin and all the alcohol he'd drank felt as though it evaporated through every pore on his body. In that moment he couldn't understand the man's tone but he felt the rigidiness just the same. He hadn't done anything wrong. Not really. Had Beau confused him for a few moments? Yes. But nothing more had come of that. And once the prince found out who he was and what he was doing, it wasn't difficult to deduce the rest. But clearly Quintus wasn't ready or willing to do that yet and he'd have to explain in a way that didn't seem as though he were trying to defend the other to him. Wasn't he just the one being made to be made?

"I don't think it's difficult to understand that someone in his line of work." He paused, staring pointedly at the other for a moment before he continued. "Don't always receive the best treatment. And knowing the man that was pulling his strings." Which was partly a lie. Cesare didn't know their uncle well. Or, as well as he'd thought he had. In all the years he'd ventured to the castle in Vivec alone and in his father's tow, he'd never had Richard treat him poorly. The odd comment here and there, with more frequency as he'd grown closer to Quin, but never would he have guessed he was a power hungry man, hell bent on dethroning his own nephews at any cost. "I didn't think it was such a jump to assume that some of what has happened with you may also have happened with him." His brow raised and he sighed out, not ready to admit the next part. "Because you do look similiar enough that I imagine whatever he he wanted to say or do to you he often took out on Beau instead when the opportunity didn't present itself with you."

The prince stretched himself out on his bed, leaning back against the headboard. There it is. The soft, fuzzy feeling of the meade found him again and he breathed out slowly. "You've never told me the extent of what happened with ... Richard." He started, crossing his ankles over each other and his hands folded over and laid against his lap. It was hard to hear that name in his own voice. Until that moment he was fairly certain they'd never uttered his name between themselves. But the threat was very real and not using his name made it feel like he was bigger than they, and that simply could never be in Cesare's opinion. "Beau wasn't kind when he said it." He started, his fingers itching to dig into anything to make this less painful to speak about, less painful to watch Quintus' face when he'd finally gotten it out. "But I started putting it together. The way you don't like to be touched and how you're constantly on top of everything and everyone." He gave a slight shake of his head because honestly this did nothing but show just how strong this man on the bed was to him. And should be to everyone. "He only confirmed the missing piece that I'd been guessing at."

Cesare's tongue swiped along his lips to keep them from drying out completely. "Please don't take my kindness towards him as anything but that." He swallowed hard and fought himself on what he was about to say next but he thought better than to hide it. "When I first came upon Beau in what were suppose to be your quarters I couldn't be sure it was you. The room was too dark." The contents of his stomach churned and he felt odd enough to shift his weight. "He shared a kiss or two but nothing more than that." His cheeks instantly flared to the bright redness of coals and he found himself wanting to sink completely into the mattress. "I realized he wasn't you and threatened him within an inch of his life to get me to you and when that didn't work." He sighed and shrugged again. "I just tried to treat him like a person." He paused, seeing the snide comment coming quick but he cut Quin off before it could be made. "He wants to live. Free. Just like you and I. Just like everyone else. I couldn't imagine the sort of life one leads pretending to be someone else. Never having anything that is truly your own." Cesare gave a slight shake of his head and breathed out through his nose. "I just didn't want to be the sort of person that sees someone in a bad position regardless of their own involvement and not do anything to help. I've never been that way and I won't start now." He was firm on that whether Quin liked it or not. He could only hope his honesty didn't cost him everything else in the process.

[goldenboywrites]

Whether Isaac knew it or not, his words were a knife aimed directly at Apollo’s heart. Because the life he had craved since he was a child, the life he clawed and dragged his way to, was not only his- but theirs. He had thought that what he and Isaac built, the friends that turned into family was theirs, but hearing him now, Apollo realized that it wasn’t theirs. It was his. He had no one to blame but himself because he assumed Isaac had wanted this, and he craved a found family the way Apollo always had. The four had spent most of their time at university and post-university together. Yeah, he had ignored the rift between Isaac and Cassio because he thought they would grow out of it, but looking at Isaac now, Apollo wasn’t sure about anything anymore. 

Apollo fought the instinct to step closer to Isaac, seeking out the familiarity and comfort his boyfriend gave him, but he knew the chances of him finding that from the other were slim. He forced himself to back away from Isaac but kept his gaze on the other man. It felt like something had fractured between them; the distance between them was so significant that Apollo feared it would swallow him whole. “I didn’t call them tonight, Isaac, fuck,” He said again as if that would make a difference. “When this happened, I ran to you. I fucking called you. And you can stand there and say it’s never just the two of us? Everything has been the two of us,” He spat out, crossing his arms over his chest. “This house, our life has been because you and I made it. Because I choose you, and I continue to choose you, but you have it so screwed up in your mind that I want him, and I have given you no reason to distrust me when it comes to Cassio.” 

He shook his head. Leaning his hip against the counter, he broke his gaze to look out the kitchen window, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check. “I thought this was ours, too. I thought this was the family we chose, and maybe that was my mistake, thinking you were choosing them too; I guess it was just me the whole time.” Some leftover fucked up desperation to have a family because he hadn’t grown up with a good one. How silly of him to think he could have this. Apollo inhaled sharply, looking down and rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Yeah, um,” He felt the thickness in his throat, his skin twitching with the suffocating need to run. “I think I will call her and see if she’s available.” He kicked off the counter and walked towards the kitchen door, stopping just before it, his hand on the doorknob. “I think it’s best if I…” He swallowed, the words choking in his throat, “I think I’ll take Theodore to her house and stay there while I track down Alexandria. Oliver is probably already in love with him by now, and I wouldn’t want my friends to bother you in your house if they want to see him.” Apollo pushed open the door and forced himself through it. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll get everyone out of your hair.” 

Apollo walked down the hall, stopping to check in on everyone in the living room. “Theodore,” He called out and was greeted with the wildest smile he had ever seen awhile Apollo was still weary of the situation, it was hard not to remain distrusting around the kid. “Start cleaning up your toys.” This was met with a groan and a soft, but we’re playing whine. Apollo glanced at Cassio; the blonde was searching his face for something, and Apollo knew he would find it. He always could, even when they were kids. “I don’t want to ask again,” Apollo said, continuing past the living room and up the stairs to the bedroom. He couldn’t stay there while Cassio tried to decode the emotions he was attempting, and failing, to bite back. 

He moved swiftly through the bedroom, grabbing his phone from the nightstand and thumbing through his contacts. The call connected as he pulled a duffel bag from the closet. “My favorite brother,” the voice purred as Apollo riffled through his dresser drawers, pulling out clothes. 

“Your only brother. I need a favor..” __________ After Apollo had come through the living room barking orders and looking two steps away from losing his shit, Oliver had expected Isaac to leave the kitchen too. So far, he hadn’t. He shared a glance with his boyfriend, raising a brow at the blond. “What should we do?” He whispered, leaning his head on the blond’s shoulder. Theodore started begrudgingly packing his toys back into the boxes and bags. “Should we even do anything?” He slipped his hand into Cassio’s, squeezing his fingers lightly. “Maybe we should just sneak out now and pretend we didn’t witness any of this.” But he knew he couldn’t leave Apollo or Isaac in such a state, especially when it was probably his fault for inviting himself over without warning. It was just Oliver loved them both so much, and now there was Theodore. “Maybe we should steal Theodore and run, raise him as own our.” He looked at the boy, then back at the kitchen door. It was still silent. “I’ll follow your lead, babe. Just tell me what you think we should do.”

Isaac closed his eyes and just let everything happen. He let Apollo pull him to him and try to console him. He stood quietly and listened to the sweet words that came out of his mouth again. Because this wasn't the first time this sort of conversation had been had. And at this rate, it surely wasn't to be the last. He'd made his peace with that. For whatever reason, with Apollo came Cassio and by extension, Oliver. The last of them being his particular favorite at that moment. He was at least doing something productive. Like keeping the pair of them the hell away from one another. He slowly breathed in and allowed parts of himself to relax and mold in against Apollo. Whatever that was, was going to have to wait. There was still a child that called priority over all.

"I don' wan' ya ta teach me." He said after a few moments, blinking back the sting of a few tears that wished to be released from the well. Isaac sniffled them back and moved to pat Apollo on his back gently, smoothing over the fabric of his shirt. There'd been a time or two he'd wished he was more like his kind and didn't care all that much about free will. It certainly would have made his life easier, especially after meeting this particular Maddox sibling. "I wan' for once ta jus' figure somethin' ou' wi'h jus' us. I ge' tha' maybe this is a bi' differen'." He paused, pulling back to look at him just then. He did his very best to keep his features neutral because like it or not, there was still company that was more than likely able to hear some of what was being said. "Sometimes i' feels li'e there's no' jus' two of us in this."

Before he could really feel the weight of what he said, Isaac pulled from Apollo's arms and moved to the sink. He flipped the tap on, cupping his hands underneath to splash some water on his face. He stood hunched over the sink and drummed his fingers along the basin. "Maybe you should ha'e called ya sista." His head craned around and tried to ignore the look on Apollo's face. If they were going to have a house full then so be it. "'f he recognized the two o' them then I'd be willin' ta bet he migh' her too." He shrugged and folded his arms over his chest. "Maybe she can fin' his mum o' someone tha' migh' know mo'e than we can fin'."

_______________________

Cassio stood back with his shoulder pressed against the door frame watching Oliver with the boy. He hadn't expected to care so much about a child he knew nothing about but to see Oliver with him, well. He heard the voices coming from the kitchen and stepped inside to stand just behind one of the armchairs as he surveyed the pair of them closer. He clearly didn't understand what the problem was between him and Isaac. Cass had never advanced on Apollo in their time together and they hadn't for some time before that. Especially not when Oliver had come into his life. Jealousy was one thing but whatever that was, Isaac was the only one feeling it. He'd thought to ask Apollo but he also didn't want to put him in an awkward position. Leave it to him to find a male veela that not only didn't have a colony but one with a very nasty disposition when it came to his lover. Naturally.

The blond shook his head and came to join the pair on the floor. "Yeah, his birthday was pretty fun." He chimed in, reaching out to take one of the weird and colorful contraptions Oliver had bought for him. He smiled at how crazy it looked back attempted to make it do ... something. He was really trying to understand where this kid could have come from. The way he spoke about them sounded almost like he'd taken memories from them directly. He sighed and finally gave up on the toy he'd had which made the little boy laugh. He really liked that. How innocent this boy was. It made him want to protect him, if for no other reason than he could understand that vulnerability.

But he also wanted to test that theory. He had a memory of just Apollo and himself that was hold enough and insignificant enough to not totally throw Oliver off but Apollo's worry was getting the better of him. Maybe that's why he hates me. "I was thinking about asking your dad if he wanted to go back to that one spring we found out at your grandparent's house." He smiled and moved to take another toy, this one was a bit more managable. The little boy looked at him and he sighed so loudly just to be dramatic. "The one way out past the garden. The one your aunt really, really loves." He smiled and leaned in to nudge him gently. "I'll ask him if we can take you again. I won't throw you in like that again. I promise."

[goldenboywrites]

Beau didn’t deserve anything, especially from Quintus, and as he rolled over to tell Cesare just that, he stopped being cold in his movements. 

He survived not great things too. 

Quin’s body went cold at the words, eyes narrowing as he read them for what they were. It could mean that Cesare knew, but he was many things, and a great actor was not one of them. He believed if Cesare knew about his past with his uncle, he would not be able to contain himself. His future husband would go through all of the stages of grief knowing that any kind of physical harm had come to Quintus, especially at such a young age. He could have simply meant all of the other horrors his uncle had committed, but that was banking on the idea that Cesare hadn’t made the connection regarding what Beau was to Quin’s uncle. 

It was challenging to decide if he wanted to press it when he couldn’t determine precisely what Cesare knew. If he did know, Quin would have to live with the stain of his uncle tainting their relationship, potentially ruining their future wedding plans. If he didn’t realize, Quin would be serving the truth to him on a silver platter. 

He sat up as Cesare came over with the tray. He only ate what was handed to him because he didn’t want Cesare to comment on his lack of appetite. Quin ate slowly, chewing meticulously, but everything tasted like ash, and with every bite, he had to force himself to swallow. It was like chewing nails. He listened to Cesare’s words, looking up from the dried fruit in his hands to study his expression. If there was ever a time Quintus wished he could read minds, it was this moment. 

He wanted to share Cesare’s excitement about having both Avenicci brothers under the same roof and look forward to experiencing Adros with Cesare, but Quin was that kind of man. He couldn’t let things go; he couldn’t ignore the possibility that Cesare may know and wasn’t admitting it. 

“What did you mean,” He said slowly, carefully. He ripped the piece of fruit in his hand to shreds, flicking the bits of skin off on the tray. “Earlier.’ Quintus glanced up at Cesare, gaze scanning over his face. “When you said ‘He survived not great things too’?” Quin raised a brow, waving his hand flippantly. “He was playing a role for my uncle. Pretending to be me, he agreed to go to trial disguised as me to plead guilty. While I was locked in my room and drugged constantly,  he had the run of the castle and could come and go as he pleased.  Anything he wanted was given to him as long as he played by my uncle’s rules, which he did so eagerly. So I suppose I’m just confused about what horrors he faced that you have been made aware of. He’s faced enough to warrant you saving and smuggling him out of the country. So please, do share."

Quin’s breath caught in his throat at the feeling of Cesare’s fingers grazing across his knuckles. He looked at the prince, wondering if this was it. Quin had been waiting for the betrayal since they started this thing between them. Was he to feel relief? That he had been right all along, that he had known at some point everyone betrays everyone? That the cruel realities of the world were just as he suspected. Or was he to feel disappointment? The man fell off the side because he had placed Cesare on a pedestal.

It would be a relief to be right and have the proof to pull back into himself and shut out Cesare for good. To protect his heart, body, and soul from the hurt that came alongside love. How devastating it would be to walk away from him forever. It would kill him, but he would do it.

Cesare kneeled before him, and Quin met his gaze straight on. He listened to him, jaw clenched, the fight bubbling inside him. And then, as suddenly as it fired him up, it cooled down. Quin huffed, body sagging with relief. Say what you want about Beau, but he wasn’t a good enough fuck to make a future king kneel before him. And his words, Cesare only spoke so softly, so delicately to one person. He knew. “I hate you,” Quin muttered, face reddening with embarrassment over being caught. He sighed, long and drawn out, before throwing himself backward, his back bouncing from the plushness of the bed. He couldn’t bear to look at Cesare until he felt more composed. Because Quin knew what was coming next, a conversation. He had no one but himself to blame for it.

“What gave it away?” He asked softly, tossing his forearm over his eyes because Cesare's stupid, smug face was the last thing he wanted to see. Beau’s earlier comments came back to haunt him at that moment. Was he indeed so bad at all of this? Was it a pity that made Cesare fuck him? Was he so incapable of seduction that Cesare had known it was him the whole time? Did he fumble with it that much? “It’s nothing,” Quin said softly, turning his head to the left and meeting Cesare’s gaze. “A test to see if it would work,” He explained, swallowing down every insecurity like nails. “I debated Beau’s use and thought I could use him as a spy. A way for me to be in two places at once. I probably still can do it with those who do not know me as well and aren’t as obsessed with me as you are. Have I mentioned today how infuriating that trait of yours is?” He forced a smile. But hopefully, it would be enough to convince Cesare to avoid a conversation. “That’s all.”

[goldenboywrites]

waves

“Are we still on tomorrow?” Quin turns his head at Cesare’s words, the fireworks display happening in front of them taking a backseat to the boy talking to him. Nothing had ever held Quin’s attention quite like Cesare did. “We only have over a month to finish our summer bucket list.” That summer, Quin turned fourteen, and his birthday wishes finally came true. He had Cesare to himself the entire summer. Max had a job and a girlfriend; it was not that he had to work, but he had gotten in trouble with their uncle before the school year ended, and the job was a lesson. Sure, he missed his big brother as he imagined Cesare missed his best friend, but the two had filled their entire summer vacation with things to do and places to explore.

“Of course,” Quin answered with a crooked grin. He elbowed Cesare’s side and then turned back towards the fireworks. This was another checkmark off of their list. Quin had never seen the fireworks before; it was usually too loud for him and too many people. Cesare knew this about him, and while there was a crowd of people, Cesare had procured them a section further back, isolated on a hilltop. While it was nice, he realized a few minutes into the show that he preferred watching Cesare watch the fireworks. He pulled out their summer notebook from his bag and flipped a few pages in, using his phone’s flashlight feature to illuminate the pages they created together. “I got us tickets to the art show at the museum, and then we can try that new ice cream shop down the street.” That checked off two. The last item on their list would be tricky; Quin brushed his finger over it—a road trip. Cesare had gotten his license that year and begged Quin to go somewhere with him for the weekend. His uncle would never let him out of sight for that long, but he lived by the ‘better to ask for forgiveness than permission’ mantra. 

Quin spent the show's grand finale watching Cesare’s face light up with all the different colors, and when he dropped Quin off at home, he left Cesare with a promise of tomorrow and the rest of summer. 

As he watched Cesare drive off into the night, little did he know it was a promise he couldn’t keep. 

Quin stepped up to the front door and ignored the uneasiness that coursed through his body. It had been six years since he last stepped into his house. It had been six years since he last saw his brother. Six years since he had been back in the city he had grown up in. Not by choice - not like Quin ever had much of a choice. He remembered his last night fondly, fireworks, Cesare, and the rest of their summer plans. Their trip to the museum, the ice cream shop, and the road trip to wherever. 

Now Quin made his own decisions. He was officially twenty, and Quin’s inheritance could no longer be used against him to keep him silent and away. It took six years, but he made it out alive. His uncle, well, not so much. Officially, Quin was back home for the funeral. He doubted Max even knew his uncle had sent him away and forced him to stay away for six years. He imagined their uncle told him that it was Quin’s choice, that he didn’t want to be here, that he needed to spread his wings and emerge from his brother’s shadow. His uncle would never tell the truth, couldn’t really, and Quin much preferred that the truth be buried with him. 

He found the hidden key in the planter next to the door and unlocked it, stepping inside the house and inhaling deeply. It smelled the same as he remembered, but the decor and furniture differed. Max got Quin’s new number from his uncle’s cell when his uncle passed away, desperate to track down his long-lost brother and tell him of the news. Max had begged him to come back, for good this time. He told Quin about how he and Cesare lived at the house; he had bought it from the uncle after graduating. Max promised Quin’s room had been left untouched, a shrine of the fourteen-year-old who didn’t live there anymore. 

No more stalling. Quin stepped into the house, dropping his bag in the entryway. “Max?” He called out, feeling like he was walking through a stranger’s home, but he felt disgusting from the plane. Max had told him he might not make it home to greet him but assured him to make himself home if he wasn’t. “Are you here?” Quin called out, walking up the steps towards the bedrooms. He spied his bedroom door cracked open, so he made a beeline for it, pushing the door open all the way, but then Quin stopped dead at the sight of someone napping in his bed. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. It may have been six years since he had last seen or talked to Cesare, but Quin would recognize him anywhere. 

Because he had spent the last six years looking for Cesare in every crowd, fantasizing about him coming to get Quin and bringing him home. It never happened, but Quin never stopped wishing for it. 

He cleared his throat roughly, watching Cesare’s brow furrowed and his nose scrunched at the sound. Watching the man wake up was mildly fascinating, but it was hardly graceful as he sensed another presence watching him. Cesare nearly jumped out of his skin, clutching the blankets to his chest, his face pale and mouth opened. Max hadn’t told him Quin was returning to town. Knowing his brother, Max probably wanted to make it a big surprise but got tied up with work and forgot to give his best friend a heads-up. 

Quin couldn’t tell from Cesare’s expression if he was a good or bad surprise. He couldn’t even tell if Cesare knew who he was. The last time they had been together was when Quin was going through puberty, and he had braces and a shitty fashion sense. He was different now, more defined and aware of the space he occupied. Quin’s body had stayed on the smaller, more petite side, but his braces had come off, his acne had cleared, he had learned how to style his hair without making it look styled, and he knew what clothes accented his best features. He wasn’t the awkward fourteen-year-old boy who ran after Cesare. They were both adults, both on an even playing field now. 

“Was the bed in bedroom one too soft?” Quin smirked, tapping his fingers against his elbow. “Was the bed in the second bedroom too hard?” He raised a brow, tilting his head to the side. “Is this one just right, hmm, goldilocks?”