He followed Yuri from room to room of a castle that was not his, or Yuri’s, but somehow a combination of the two, with Oxford thrown in. Every time Angelo was about to catch Yuri’s hand to hold him still, he somehow eluded Angelo and wandered on, Angelo trailing along right behind him.
In his sleep, Angelo pulled Yuri even closer and did not let him go for the rest of the night.
13
Yuri Is So Very, Very Tired
Yuri woke to a dull headache, morning wood, and a hard cock against the small of his back.
That was new.
He assessed his situation. He was in a warm bed that wasn’t his own. Angelo’s bed. That was Angelo’s cock.
Holy shit holy shit holy shit!
Yuri noticed he was breathing too rapidly and consciously slowed it down. He didn’t want to hyperventilate. That would be too humiliating for words. Taking one measured breath after another, his heart slowed to a less heart attack inducing pace. That was good. Behind him, Angelo snored, but it wasn’t terribly annoying. As snores went, it was a fairly considerate one. His arm lay heavily over Yuri’s waist. Experimentally, Yuri pulled away from Angelo just slightly. He was hauled back ruthlessly.
Angelo made a disgruntled sound, shifted slightly, and buried his face into Yuri’s neck and then grunted contentedly. Yuri wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he decided to allow this to go on as long as he could. Angelo would wake up soon enough and they’d be back to being prickly co-prisoners of royal circumstance. Yuri would pine for a man who was always too close and too far at the same time and Angelo would do whatever it was that he did when Yuri wasn’t around.
Whatever it was, Angelo was discreet about it. There hadn’t been the whisper of anything in any of the tabloids. For the moment, they seemed to have slipped off everyone’s radar, and that was fine with Yuri. He didn’t relish immediate marriage and resumption of royal duties at all. In Oxford, with just Philippe and Jacki, Yuri could pretend that his life was relatively normal, with a relatively normal future awaiting him. Once he married Angelo, however, that little buffer of fake normalcy would evaporate. Yuri would be stuck, forever, with a man he wanted but who didn’t want him back, and there would be no reprieve.
It was too depressing to think about. Yuri sighed in frustration.
Angelo stirred again and slid the tip of his nose along the pulse point behind Yuri’s ear. He groaned and thrust his erection firmly against Yuri’s arse, making him gasp. It was wrong, so wrong, but it felt so good at the same time. Surely it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to pretend for just a little while that this could be real. Yuri thought of decades of waking up just like this and it squeezed his heart with pleasure and pain.
Just to torture himself, Yuri imagined Angelo, somehow just as much eager for Yuri’s body as Yuri was for his. Angelo would skim his fingers over Yuri’s skin, ruffling the hair on his chest and stomach, then reaching his nipple only to pinch it, making Yuri’s back arch with pleasure. His lips would graze over Yuri’s neck, teeth biting down lightly, then sucking out a mark that would show everyone who Yuri belonged to. Angelo’s hand would move back down Yuri’s body with aching slowness only to settle right above his cock, teasing him with light touches.
“Do you want this? Do you want me?” Angelo would whisper into his ear while thrusting his erection against Yuri.
“Yes, please, god yes.”
Angelo would roll them both so Yuri was on his back and Angelo was above him, their hard cocks perfectly aligned against each other. Angelo would dip his head and nip Yuri’s lower lip before sucking it into his mouth. Then he’d kiss Yuri until he had no more breath left.
As he imagined all this, Yuri’s hand dropped to his own aching erection. Tentatively, afraid to move too much and wake up Angelo, Yuri touched himself through the distended fabric of his boxers. He bit back a moan of pleasure. It felt so good. He couldn’t remember the last time touching his cock felt so good.
It was a bit like edging himself, as Yuri didn’t dare to move anywhere near as much as he wanted to. He kept imagining Angelo waking up to find his arms full of an enthusiastically masturbating Yuri. That would be bad. Very bad.
But.
Yuri’s mind threw up a memory from over a year ago, before all the shit with Francis occurred. Yuri had invaded Keble College one very desperate night after a particularly grueling examination, and had barged his way into Angelo’s room. He’d been alone, thank god, sitting on his bed reading a book.
“I need it,” Yuri had said. “I need it so bad. I tried to stay away but—”
Angelo tossed his book down without regard for his place in it and was by Yuri’s side in an instant. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Yuri’s laugh had sounded wild. “God, no. Not that. Just… I need…”
He’d sagged with relief when Angelo had turned, locked his door, then came back to Yuri and yanked his trousers down. “Have you been a bad boy, princess?”
“Yes,” he’d whispered, bending over onto Angelo’s bed, breathing in the scent of him that lingered on the bed clothes. He was already hard.
When the first blow came, it felt so loud that Yuri had thought the entire college must’ve heard it, but Angelo went on, not heeding the noise his hand made on Yuri’s bare flesh, until Yuri sobbed into Angelo’s sheets.
Afterward, Yuri wondered if this time
