“What do you mean?” Angelo demanded.
To that, Roger only replied, “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” but could not be drawn out further on the topic.
Angelo spent Saturday trying to exhaust himself without thinking. He went shopping for food, exercised for several hours in the gym, then watched a film as he ate his supper. The next day was Sunday, and it would be more of the same. It was a depressing thought.
As he was undressing for bed, he got a text from Roger.
Roger: you might want to open your front door.
Angelo: why?
Roger: just do it. It’s nothing dangerous, I promise.
Roger: Probably not dangerous
Roger: I’m here if you need me
Roger: just open the fucking door, your highness
Angelo: stop nagging and let me put a shirt on
More or less decent, Angelo sleepily staggered to the door of his flat and peered out through the security hole. Something thudded periodically on the door, but Angelo couldn’t see anything.
He opened the door and Yuri, who’d been leaning his head against it, tumbled into his arms.
“Yuri? What on earth?”
“I didn’t want to come but I need to know.”
“Know what?” Angelo was bewildered, but also excited as hell to see Yuri. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe—
Yuri stepped closer and draped one graceful arm around Angelo’s neck while the other cupped Angelo’s cock and balls. The touch ran through him like an electric shock and he felt like he was being consumed with desire for the man who’d been a thorn in his side his entire life.
“I had to know if this was real or just a fluke.” His hand gripped Angelo’s cock through his trousers.
Angelo’s cock firmed further under Yuri’s clever fingers. He longed to grab for Yuri and just take everything and anything and all the things he’d never known he needed to survive. “What do you think?” Angelo asked in return, his voice gone husky with desire for the maddening, impossible boy in his arms.
Yuri licked his lips. “I think you should take me to your bed so we can figure it out.”
25
Yuri Wants Reparations
It had been an extremely shite day and Yuri was absolutely done with trying to be a good person about it.
Things with Angelo that morning had been stilted and awkward. Philippe had been quiet as well, but his silence, at least, hadn’t felt judgmental. Angelo had, on the other hand, regret stamped hard all over him. He could barely look at Yuri and that hurt like a knife plunged straight into his chest.
After that, he’d been unsuccessful trying to track down an important, and rare, book in the Bodleian. That futile search had eaten up two hours of his day. Then he’d had an informal meeting over coffee with his advisor, who made noises that he wasn’t convinced Yuri was taking his studies as seriously as he should. After that, he’d skipped lunch entirely and spent more time in the library, this time editing his thesis for the third time. It still wasn’t perfect and that was driving Yuri insane, but he wasn’t sure where to fix it.
Hungry, exhausted from a day largely spent sitting, and frustrated, Yuri walked from the library to his home. He should’ve ridden his bicycle, but that morning it had promised to be a pleasant day and Yuri had wanted a long walk in which to clear his head.
It hadn’t worked this morning and it wasn’t working now. All Yuri had was a handful of useless theories and no conclusions about what had happened the previous night between him and Angelo.
Yes, it was what he’d wanted. What he’d dreamed about for years. But Angelo was straight. He’d always been straight. His supposed desire for Yuri made no sense at all. Nevertheless, Angelo had been aroused. He had done things to Yuri that no straight boy should ever dream of, let alone execute. Rimming him, for instance. There were a fair number of gay men who didn’t want to do that, yet Angelo had jumped right in. None of it made any sense at all. There was a gap between logic and reality that Yuri couldn’t reconcile, and that was also driving him insane. By the time he was walking home that night, he was in a completely foul mood.
He also must have been distracted by his churning, irreconcilable thoughts, because Yuri didn’t notice someone was behind him until he felt a heavy warmth settle onto his shoulders.
Yuri whirled around and there stood Francis. He was as beautiful as ever, but the cruelty in his eyes was far more pronounced today than it was usually. He hadn’t bothered to wear a mask, Yuri reasoned. That probably meant this was going to get ugly, and he really wasn’t in the mood.
“Malcom?” Yuri’s voice was small, like that of a lost child.
“I’m here, your highness,” came Malcom’s voice. He was behind Francis, who whirled around to look and sneered.
“You aren’t needed here. Go. I wish to speak to Euripides.”
At first, Yuri had liked Francis using his full first name, but now it sounded absolutely ridiculous, just as Angelo had always told him when they were small boys. Yuri shrugged out of the warm coat Francis had draped over his shoulders then held it out to him. “No. Please take your coat back. I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“I wouldn’t be too hasty, pet,” Francis shot back. “And that attitude of yours is going to get you into trouble.”
“Maybe, but not with you. Not anymore.”
Francis grinned and it was horrible. “Never say never. Anything is possible with the right incentive. You should know that by now.”
Yuri eyed the duke’s son warily. “What do you mean?”
“I have pictures, you know. Of you. Taken while you were bound and naked and at my mercy. They were only ever supposed to be for me, but I can share them with the world if I don’t get my way.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Malcom
