The guilt from killing those nine men had chewed at him. The frenzy of that day had run a hole through him that had never left him until now, until he changed. A fifteen-year-old with guts and blood on him, washing it off, then walking home. Knowing he’d done what he’d done, visions in his head for days and weeks, months and years.
Xander had known and not condemned him. “I should have said something to you.”
“I regret not saying anything too. We were both young and troubled.”
The lump in John’s throat was too big for him to just sit in the chair. He stood and went to Xander, leaned over him and hugged him, no matter how the water soaked into his shirt.
A day later, Po summoned them. They made it to her chambers of audience past several haughty palace servants, having signed a waiver of something or other.
Princess Pollianna, the smartest princess ever, was seated on her throne, dressed to kill unworthy peasants in a blue chiffon-and-satin gown, and as soon as she saw them, she leaped up and beckoned to them.
“Follow me.”
A servant who cleared his throat was sent a glare of the highest royal quality.
He and Xander went through a door behind the throne, along a corridor, then another one, then a hallway of portraits, and ahead were a set of double doors that John vaguely recognized…
They found themselves in her private chambers.
Another four rooms in, and he was definitely in familiar territory—her bedroom.
“Last time I was here…” John looked around and spotted the patch on the ceiling.
“You put a knife to my throat.” Po grinned and walked forward into his embrace and Xander’s—managing to hug them both at once, if poorly. “I’ve missed you both so much. I am healed and well, and alive, because of both of you. I even did a fencing lesson today!”
“Because of us?” It seemed as if it was the other way around to John. “You saved us too. And Shades did.”
She sighed deeply into Xander’s coat. “I suppose we all saved each other.” Then she released them and backed away.
“Unlace the back of this and then come to my bed and dive in. I cannot discuss affairs of state for one second longer. I demand hugs and kisses and you two with me.”
That was one unrefusable invitation.
John unlaced and unbuttoned the gown. When they pulled it off her then another layer of frippery, beneath was a white cotton slip of lace and pink ribbons. No nipples showed, alas, but the bosom was obvious, and the cups outlined by ribbon.
They had only to get that off her.
“Phew!” Po wriggled her shoulders and groaned. Before she could take two steps toward the bed, Xander scooped her up with a loud whoop.
Then he jogged to the bed, for it was some yards away, and tossed her onto the enormous, quilt-covered bed. All of the ten or so pillows shook with the impact—and again when he and Xander jumped in. This bed was bigger than some countries he’d visited.
Po giggled then crawled to the top. She patted the bed to either side but waggled her finger. “Nothing naughty today.” Her brow wrinkled in worry; her mouth quivered. “We have to figure out what to do, and I am possessed of a whole bucketload of unhappy.”
“You are?” He crawled up to snuggle to her right, kissing her shoulder after sneaking down the satin strap. “Why?”
“How do I marry both of you when no one has done it before?”
“Ahhh.” Finally Xander arrived on hands and knees and he lay down propped on elbows. “Here.” He somehow had a sheaf of papers in hand and brandished them. “I knew it would come to this.”
“You did?” Po fairly seemed to melt with joy, and the first hint of jealousy wormed about in John.
He was having none of that. Xander had been completely fine with him deflowering their princess first, several times, so he could stand his bro being smarter. “What is that?”
“Yes.” Po turned onto her side, letting John have her rear end to fondle, well, to spoon with. He stared between them at the perfect double curve of the butt of his princess.
No fondling today, she had said. “Such a pity,” he breathed.
As if she knew his thoughts, Po wriggled her ass closer to his cock. It twitched, throbbed, grew, as pussy-teased cock often does.
Dammit.
John refocused on the paper Xander was about to read from.
“From your vast library of law.” Xander’s brow corrugated as he looked up at her from the paper. “There is a precedent. Several.”
“For marrying two men?” Po seemed doubtful.
“Yes. Well. Close enough. King Artur the third married his mistress after being married to his wife. Gertrude the fourteenth—”
“There were fourteen Gertrudes?” Po squeaked out.
“Shhh. And yes. Well fifteen really. Then she married her goat after her husband said something stupid about something. It is a little fuzzy. Not sure if it lasted.”
Xander kept listing precedents, and though none were exactly the same, taken together they were surely tight, perfect precedents. Some of them had Po amazed, a few had them laughing, such as the queen who married her flock of Dildos of Unusual Size. By the end, John had gagged her with his hand to stop her protesting, just because it seemed appropriate.
Her tongue licked at his palm, and he muttered, remembering where else that tongue had been.
Neither she, he, nor Xander, when he glanced up from the papers and saw where John’s hand was, bothered to point out things were heating up.
“Are we done here?” he asked Xander, as he let his now dampened hand slip from her mouth. His palm accidentally landed on the upper curve of
