At first, it was exactly like the kisses they’d practiced in Yuri’s room that had just about broken his heart. They had been sweet and gentle and entirely without passion. They had made Yuri, long after Angelo had left his room, cry more useless tears into his pillow. Yuri felt caught in a horrible limbo of craving Angelo’s attention, something he’d wanted his entire life, and wishing Angelo would leave him entirely alone. Angelo’s fake, forced attention was just too painful. He started to pull away.
Angelo growled low in his throat and tugged Yuri back. His lips fell on Yuri’s again and the kiss, somehow, became more. Angelo bit at his lips, making Yuri gasp. That allowed Angelo to plunder his mouth, which was exactly what he did. Yuri sucked on Angelo’s tongue, reveling in finally getting what he’d wanted for eons. Angelo’s taste flooded his mouth and Yuri felt he might never get enough of it. He plastered himself to Angelo, holding onto fistfuls of his light jacket and rubbing on him like a bitch in heat. They were no doubt putting on quite the show for the few spectators around them.
That thought was like being doused in cold water. A show. Right. That’s all it was. There was nothing at all real going on. Just Angelo swinging his dick around to claim something he didn’t even want just so no one else could have it. It made Yuri feel sick and he pulled back enough from Angelo to whisper, “I think you’ve given everyone enough of a show. Let me go.”
Angelo stiffened for a few seconds then stepped back. He still cradled Yuri’s face, though. There was a dazed look in his eyes, as if he was waking from a particularly vivid dream. “Yuri?”
It wasn’t fair that the best kiss of his entire life was entirely fake. He wanted more, and at the same time, he was afraid to let Angelo touch him again. Yuri was afraid the temptation of being given a tiny taste of what he’d always wanted, but no more than a taste, would drive him mad.
“Come with me, your highness,” one of the guards said. Yuri thought the other had called him Charlie. “I need to get you away from this crowd. It’s not safe.”
“What about Lord Dickface?” Angelo growled.
“Not my problem,” Charlie said. “Jeremy’s dealing with him. Stay or go, I don’t care, but I’m getting the prince out of here.” He started to move, herding Yuri along while barely touching him and making a clear path between gawking students.
Angelo called out, “I’ll join you shortly,” and then he was gone, taking even his scent with him.
Charlie hustled Yuri through the college and then to his room. Yuri dug for his key, but it wasn’t necessary. The door opened, and behind it, stood a frowning Philippe.
“Thank you, Charles,” Philippe said. “You’re free to go and report in. I’ll take it from here.”
“Yes, sir,” the bodyguard said, then he slipped silently away.
“Come now, your highness. Get in here.” Philippe ushered him inside the room then closed the door behind them. “Sit, please. You look an utter mess,” he tutted. “You’re far overdue for a haircut and those shoes of yours are a disgrace. I think I’ll have to insist that you live out of College while pursuing your post-graduate degree. That way I can keep an eye on you.” He turned away then handed Yuri a steaming mug. “Here. I made you cocoa.”
And to his utter embarrassment and shame, Yuri took one sip, tasted his childhood, and started to sob. He would be twenty-three in a month but he felt two decades younger.
10
Angelo Is Called on the Carpet
Pictures of Angelo roughing up Lord Dickface and then kissing Yuri had indeed found their way into several tabloids. Angelo expected an angry call from his parents, but there had been nothing but stiff silence from them. When Angelo dared to broach the subject, they had said it could wait until both boys could travel to Mirea for, as his mother put it, a chat.
That did not bode well. Neither did Yuri’s radio silence. Still, feeling very much alone for the first time in his life, Angelo dutifully texted Yuri about the upcoming royal parental “chat.”
Yuri: yeah, I heard
Angelo: your father is sending a plane for us
Yuri: I heard that, too
Angelo: so we’ll travel back together
Yuri: obviously
Angelo: Yuri, how are you? Really?
There was a long pause.
Yuri: not good. Not good at all. It’s all over the papers, Angelo. People are talking about me. About us. If things don’t work out between us, how the hell are we supposed to go on with our lives?
Angelo: I couldn’t let him hurt you
Yuri: he wasn’t going to hurt me! It was a public space!
Angelo: Violence isn’t the only way to hurt someone, princess
Yuri: Yes. I’m well aware
To that, Angelo had no reply.
Three weeks and one very silent airplane ride later, Yuri and Angelo, with Philippe in tow, arrived at the Mirean palace. They were ushered to their private rooms and Angelo was told to clean up then present himself at King Claudius’s study at six sharp.
Angelo quickly took a shower and changed into more formal attire. “Getting your arse chewed out by two separate royal families” attire. Not wanting to sit and crease his trousers, Angelo paced his room restlessly. He was brought up short by a knock on his door.
When he opened the door, it was Yuri on the other side, scowling. “I’m only here because Philippe thinks we should present a united front to our parents.”
“I see,” Angelo said, although he didn’t. “Do you want to come in?”
Yuri ventured inside. “We only have a few minutes before we have to go down and face the music. Do you have any idea at all what you’re going to say to our parents?”
Angelo opened his mouth then closed it. “Are you going to tell them about Lord Dickface?”
“Francis,” Yuri snapped, “or Blackheath.
