“Damned slippery fish,” the king stated to no one in particular.
“What is it?” Yuri asked, dying of curiosity.
“A lawsuit,” Alex explained.
“Took me forever to find that bastard. But I did. And I served his arse but good,” Archie added a touch belligerently.
Yuri frowned and Angelo said, “You did what?”
“A subpoena,” Alex clarified. “We had Archie deliver it because Blackheath was hiding in a resort open only to those who are rich or well-connected.”
“We are going to sue his slimy arse,” Archie declared, “and if we can’t strip him of every penny he has, we will at least make his life very miserable, and expensive, for several months. As many as possible.”
“Yes, dear,” Queen Eleanor said with a sigh.
“He’ll be given a choice,” Alex said. “Publicly apologize to you two and then donate ten million pounds to the charity of your choice, and I’d recommend something involving domestic abuse, or face us in court. Either way is a win for us.”
Angelo gripped Yuri’s hand tightly. “Brilliant,” Yuri said. “Now Angelo can’t continue to threaten to kill Francis. Which, honestly, I sympathize with, but I’ve told him that Mireans try not to outright murder people we don’t like.”
“We much prefer suing them,” Archie said cheerfully. “Much better.”
“Less messy,” Alex added.
“And far more lucrative,” Archie concluded.
The king and queen sighed in unison. “Yes, dear,” Eleanor said. “Lawsuits are far superior to murder. The lack of mess being but only one of the reasons why.”
The next day they would fly to Curacao for their honeymoon, but that night they slept in Yuri’s room. It had changed much over the years from the dinosaur decorations that had roamed the walls when he was young. Now the room was hung with silk the color of Yuri’s eyes and was filled with Louis XIV antique furniture. It was, perhaps, a bit much, but then so had been the dinosaurs. The Oxford house was plainly and practically decorated with good pieces of timeless furniture and neutral colors. His Mirean bedroom was like an overly festooned bower for an extremely silly princess. Queen Eleanor had designed it, Yuri tolerated it because he didn’t want to hurt his mother’s feelings, and Angelo seemed to adore it.
Angelo kept his London flat, but spent most nights with Yuri in Oxford while working remotely. One day a week he went into the office. Sometimes Yuri joined him and they stayed in the City for the weekend. So far, it was working out well. Yuri would finish his doctorate and one day they would work for their royal families. The plan, as it always had been, was to serve in Mirea, but Yuri could see them advising Nadia as well. But that was many years in the future, and not something to worry about for hopefully a long time.
“Come here, princess.” Angelo, minus his coat and coronet, and with his tie hanging loose around his neck, sat down on the extremely ornamented chaise upholstered with the same silk that hung on the walls. He patted his lap. “But take off your clothes first.”
Instantly, Yuri was hard. He slipped out of his suit as quickly as he could, but it took far longer than he liked. He was panting by the time he stood nude in front of Angelo. “Was I bad?” he asked. Not that it mattered in the slightest. It had been a long, rather stressful day, and Yuri needed this. Probably Angelo did as well, based on the avid look in his eyes.
“I don’t really need a reason, do I?” Angelo asked archly.
Yuri shook his head. His cock leaked precum with embarrassing need. “No. But you did rescue me before I had a chance to rescue you. I think I need recompense.”
Both Yuri and his dick were in favor of that. “Recompense,” he echoed.
“Come here, princess. Now.”
Yuri hurried over to drape himself over Angelo’s knees. He forced his body to relax and waited for the first blow. It came in its own time, sharp and stinging and perfect. He could trust Angelo to hurt him but never, ever too much.
From the very first time that Angelo had done this, Yuri had known it was exactly what he wanted for the rest of his life. It had only gotten better when Angelo had started fucking him afterward. Angelo didn’t spank him every night—he didn’t need to—but it was something that Yuri always looked forward to and sometimes flat out needed. Angelo knew. Angelo understood. And, most importantly, Angelo loved him.
Yuri let the pain that rode the crest of pleasure fill him until his moans echoed within the room. “Please.”
“Please stop or please more?” Angelo asked, swatting the back of both of Yuri’s thighs.
“Please,” Yuri repeated, because it was all his brain could manage to vocalize.
“Just a few more. Can you do that?”
Yuri nodded hard.
“Good boy. I knew you could.” The blows were harder now, and spaced further apart, each one startling a gasp out of Yuri. His body rocked forward with each one, and his cock grazed Angelo’s leg. It was a light, barely-there touch, but Yuri felt like he might explode from the anticipation. “There. That’s enough.” Angelo rubbed his arse hard, startling tears out of Yuri. He was so happy, he wasn’t sure why he was crying, but Angelo stroked his back and his hair and held Yuri while he sobbed. “That’s it. Let it out, love. Let it all out.”
Afterward, Yuri felt husked out and empty, but also curiously light. Angelo stood, with Yuri in his arms, and walked over to the ridiculous confection that was his bed. “I was so frightened,” Yuri said. “Scared I’d never see you again.”
Angelo laid him gently down. “I know, love.”
Yuri wiped his eyes. “Scared you didn’t really love me.”
“But I do.” Angelo kissed him sweetly. “I sincerely do.”
“You can’t leave me! You know that, right? We’re married in two separate countries. There’s no getting out of that.”
Angelo laughed and kissed Yuri’s
