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The Royal Consort

Brian/Justin futuristic AU
written for the 'Brian and Justin's excellent adventure' challenge on neverenough_bj which is a 'travel' challenge--I had them travel to quite an exotic world
Sigma Draconis Colony, 4138 AD
Warning: mpreg

This is kind of a light tale of manners and the path to true love. So mix Jane Austen with a science fiction/Regency type world and that's kind of what I'm going for. Mpreg in this story has a scientific and logical reason for existing and is also a necessary plot device.

This was where my wild muse went way too early for the next challenge.

*** *** ***

Part One

"Brian, for the love of God...!" Teddy, his gentleman's companion, tightened the corset and Brian felt constriction on his ribs. But it gave him the youthful figure currently in vogue.

"How much longer will I be able to wear it?" Brian asked mournfully since Teddy was charged with keeping a record of the...parasite currently growing in Brian's body.

"N-not much longer, but the compensations of pregnancy will have you glowing in no time."

Brian didn't glow, but glowered at Teddy, who was as fashionably dressed as his master in a black morning suit with pointed tailoring and a dove gray silk cravat. His chestnut curls were arranged as if a gentle breeze had left them in disarray after a healthful walk on the promenade.

On Brian, those curls had the look of the sweaty ringlets from physical exertion, but not of the wholesome variety. His cravat was also slightly loosened, in the studied fashion of a man who has just come from an assignation with someone else's husband.

"Do you think he'll be there?"

Teddy sighed. "It's not as if you could remain unmarried forever, Brian. And you could not run your own company without a husband."

"Well, as soon as the brat is cooked, I'll be back among the pigeons!"

"By all reports Prince Justin is a recluse who spends all his time painting and doing tapestry work. He doesn't seem the usual oppressive husband. You might..." Teddy swallowed under Brian's glare. "...Y-you might even like him, if you give him a chance," he finished mildly.

"Hmmmph!"

...

"Justin?"

Justin looked up from his canvas as his mother walked in his studio. He had chosen the tower room of St. Andrew's, the family seat, and it suited him well. Most especially since it was where the virgins of the royal family lived until marriage.

"Oh, you have paint all over your new suit!" Jennifer scolded. She used a white handkerchief to rub at the spots of crimson on Justin's gray tailoring.

"Mother, I don't want to go!"

"What? Nonsense! You avoid too many social gatherings as it is. You are the heir, Justin."

"Why couldn't you designate Molly for the job?" Justin grumbled. "And..." He flushed. "I'm sure Brian Kinney must loathe me."

"It's a very advantageous marriage for him." Jennifer took her son's arm. "By all reports he's a hard-headed man of business."

"He's an outrageous flirt!"

Jennifer's eyes widened.

"Oh, come, mother, do you think just because I live in the tower with my art I have not heard of Brian Kinney's liaisons?"

"He agreed to the match, Justin, and it's time you meet him. Both of you have been putting it off for months."

...

Iridescent glides hovered gracefully and allowed fine company to step free before the gilded carriages zipped speedily back into the clouds. Justin watched them, gift crushed in his palm at the entrance to the Vameer family seat where the formal assembly was to be held.

Here he would finally be face to face with his husband.

His pregnant husband.

"You'll ruin it," Jennifer scolded, seeing that Justin was flattening his posy.

Justin turned to her. "It's just that I wanted to marry for love and now..."

"It didn't work out well with your father, but I did have two beautiful children and I've been free to enjoy myself since our marriage. It will be the same for you."

But Justin had never wanted a fashionable marriage like his parents. Would Brian Kinney understand that Justin had had no say in this arranged marriage? He'd even wanted to get to know his royal consort before he'd been inseminated, something frightfully at odds with custom.

...

The assembly dragged on for hours.

Standing next to his mother, Justin formally greeted newcomers to court and welcomed back seasoned members of the ton. His white gloves were damp by the time a tall man with dark, wantonly ruffled hair and hot, strangely resentful sherry eyes bowed before him.

He was so attractive that Justin felt it in his cock and his throat and couldn't think of a thing to say.

The man had already gracefully moved down the line by the time Justin realized that was his husband.

The dark, brooding, beautiful, notorious Brian Kinney.

...

Justin broke custom and followed Brian, walking through the maze of guests, all bowing, wide eyed. He could read their curiosity and compensated for his shyness by striding past as if on serious business.

And so he was.

Brian, his husband...

How should he approach him? Should he ask after his health? Engage him in conversation?

...

The tailoring and rumpled hair gave Brian Kinney away. His back broad and muscled as he leaned with insolent ease into a curtained alcove.

Justin fantasized about placing a fond kiss on that shoulder. This man had the right to take Justin to bed...and ever since he'd seen him, Justin had wanted--

He swallowed a lump of fright and gave Brian's arm a timid tap with shaking fingers.

Brian ignored him.

He cleared his throat.

"What?!" Brian spun around and Justin's eyes saucered. Brian's pants were open and his sex hung out, long, hard...and behind the curtain he could now make out the husband of Lord Ellsborough, lips shiny and eyes bright as he knelt for Brian.

"I...I..." Miserably Justin held out the posy of mint and violets he'd picked himself back in the royal gardens. "I would very much like to be friends."

Brian took the posy and let it fall to the parquet floor. He crushed it under the heel of his highly-polished boot. Venomous, "I do not want to be your friend!"

With that, Brian snapped the outer curtain closed, leaving Justin on the outside to face all the interested gazes watching his humiliation.

Part Two, “Disaster at the Salle”

"En garde!" Justin moved back and forth, light as a dancer as his fencing partner, the Lady Daphne Chalmers, met him thrust for thrust...with her sword.

Laughing, she pulled free her wild tangles from a ribbon after Justin scored another point. "You are invincible today, your highness."

"Ummmm." Justin went to the gallery window and looked down into the armory yard. There the robotic guards of his house flew past at regular intervals, challenging anyone who visited the salle while his royal highness was making use of it.

"...Is it Brian?"

Sharply, "It is not."

Daphne bit her lip, touching Justin's sweaty shoulder. He was wearing a lawn shirt and breeches that fitted him like wet paper, molding his sex and pointed nipples while his blond hair was dark at the roots from their exertion. He was not uncomely, Daphne observed. It was so unfair he had not been permitted to woo his own husband.

"I have heard that some men become a little moody when they are carrying."

"He wrote me that 'my brat' will be encased in two months time." Justin rubbed the back of his neck. "My brat. He shows no...feeling or regard for the blend of our bodies."

"He is following tradition, at least," Daphne said, referring to how Brian would not have the child entubed to finish out the last six months of growth until the baby had been inside Brian's body at least for three. On Sigma, it was possible for babies to be entubed for the entire process, but the aristocracy felt it dehumanized the very important act of creating an heir, so women and men carried them at least three months before they were removed. "Have you chosen a name?"

A tiny smile now and some of the strain eased. "Augustus."

"A child will do you good; you are too often alone. And if your...spouse has no interest, then the boy will belong to you."

"At least he will be attractive. Kinney is a handsome brute."

"Brute is right! How could he give you the cut direct while carrying on with one of his floozies!"

Justin covered his mouth. "...Daph," he confessed in a whisper. "I was humiliated."

"No!"

Justin swallowed.

"Not by that worm, that dog!"

He turned to throw an arm around his oldest friend. "A handsome dog."

"But still a dog! Pah!"

...

In the steam room of the salle, Brian tossed a towel around his shoulders for show but didn't bother covering up his assets. He was one month gone, but his belly was flat and his soft length hung between his legs, enticing interest.

He pursed his lips, looking around the baths and making a selection for a quick fuck in the stalls.

Lord Emmett strolled over, wearing a sarong, eyes heavily lined with kohl. He wasn't as irritating a companion as Teddy, who lately was always shoving nutritious foods in Brian's direction like a damned brooding hen.

"You are mad, bad and dangerous to know!" Emmett said, taking Brian's arm.

Brian raised a brow but allowed Emmett to escort him for a turn out into the gallery. It wasn't quite the thing to go about unclothed, but Brian didn't care.

"How could you be so cruel to your husband?" Emmett pushed, deliciously scandalized. "Everyone is talking about how he is beneath your notice."

"That pallid youth? I'm surprised he's not still in the school room," Brian said. "He looked as fragile as my mother's Limoges porcelain."

Emmett tittered. "He is a man of twenty, as you well know! And he does have a bountiful figure."

"Nothing to tempt me. He is an obligation," Brian noted. "I'd only plow him if I were in my cups."

"Are you not on good terms?"

"It is a business contract. I let his leech invade my body for three months and then I'm rid of it and him. In return, I can use his name and contacts and pursue incorporating Kinney-esquire."

"How romantic!"

"Romance isn't for husbands," Brian said.

"Oh, my--!" Emmett covered his mouth as Prince Justin stepped from between the columns of the gallery, accompanied by a young woman with snapping eyes.

"Brian," he greeted his husband with a regal nod.

Brian blinked, surprised at the boy's composure.

A moment later, Prince Justin glided off, oblivious to the admiring looks his damp clothing engendered.

The girl turned and hissed at Brian just before she and Prince Justin disappeared behind another column, "Dog!"

"Hummm." Brian tapped his upper lip for a moment, then shook his head. "No, absolutely not."

...

In the change room, Justin stripped off his shirt.

Daphne stayed his hand. Took and kissed it, feeling how it trembled.

"You are not to think of him again."

Justin squeezed his eyes shut. "No, never!"

"You are passionate and beautiful." She kissed her friend on the lips, surprising him. "And someone will love you one day, Justin, I swear it!"



Part Three, “The Gentleman is not Receiving”

Tight lipped, Prince Justin ordered, "Stand aside, or I will by God go through you. You and any droid guards until I find the man himself in this pile!"

Teddy swallowed thickly. Oh, it only needed this! Brian's black mood, infected bandage...and now his bloody husband, whose mere existence was enough to bring out the worst in Teddy's employer.

"He is n-not...in a charitable mood, your highness."

"Pity, neither am I!" Justin strode past the servant into the dusty blocks of stone that comprised the Kinney seat.

...

"You almost killed a good man," Justin managed evenly.

Brian poured himself another brandy, gulping it down and wiping his lips on his sleeve. He was unshaven, eyes dark circled, shaggy hair uncombed and not pulled in a neat black ribbon.

"I hope so," he growled.

Justin's eyes narrowed. "You dallied with his husband! Parrish is a man of honor so of course he demanded satisfaction."

"He is a fool!"

Justin's fists clenched as he fought the sudden need to strike Brian. Was he so callous? "He loves his husband. He believed him faithful."

Brian turned his back.

"Oh, no, my lord husband!" Justin spat, giving his spouse his honorary title. "I want to know how badly you were wounded."

Brian scratched the bandage Teddy had insisted on which covered his shoulder under his open necked lawn shirt. "Your brat still lives."

"My child, my son." Justin's boots rang as he circled his husband, holding his unwilling and resentful gaze. "You will submit to an examination."

"I'll be damned if I let some pasty-faced boy tell me what to do...!"

"Unless you want to lose all you sought," Justin said silkily. "Lands...Monies."

"Freedom!" Brian charged. "Freedom to be my own man at last."

"None of us are free, my lord," Justin said bleakly. "Otherwise I'd never have married you."

...

Justin waited with folded arms behind the curtain in the clinic. The Royal physician, Damien Landers, washed his hands in a pewter basin, mixing every day trappings with the wizardry of his technical arts.

Hushed, "How is he?"

"His wound was infected and he had a slight fever. His white blood cell count is also very high." Damien held up his hand. "I have compensated for it, but I fear his frame of mind. He does not want to carry your child."

Justin swallowed thickly, wishing that hearing the truth didn't hurt so much. "Can you remove it?"

"Not without great risk. He must carry it only another six weeks." Damien's voice lowered. "Despite knowing there will be no permanent marks from his condition, your husband's state of mine concerns me. He is obsessed with his appearance."

Justin's lips stretched in a humorless smile. "Then I know the perfect place for him until you can safely remove our son."

...

"You expect me to rusticate in the country!" Brian growled as the carriage glided through the clouds, taking him and Justin closer to a royal estate in the center of barren moorland.

"Country life is not so bad."

"It is death."

"You cannot pursue your...admirers. Not until Damien removes our son."

Brian's lips tightened.

Justin frowned. "Do you truly hate children?"

Brian looked out the window. "Never thought about it."

"You are indifferent?"

"Yes."

"Would you ever hurt our son?" Justin had to know.

Brian swung around in his seat, eyes burning sherry. His mouth opened...and then he shut it, jaw tight.

"I see," Justin said, eyes widening.

"You see nothing!" Brian leaned close, his anger as intimate as a kiss. "I might have whored myself for my freedom, but you do not know me. Do not presume!"

Justin's face went bone white. Through stiff lips he whispered, "Whored? You see carrying my child as...?"

Brian turned away, his profile as hard and perfect as a relief stamped in stone.

...

"No one will see you here but me and your servant," Justin said.

"I don't want to see you." Brian leaned against one of the posters of the great walnut bed.

Justin's cheeks reddened but he shoved down his embarrassment...and hurt. Brian would lash out at him, he knew, but he'd vowed to endure it for the sake of their child.

"I will not linger in your company." Justin hesitated, unwilling glance taking in Brian's rakish dress. He was... Justin sighed. Hopeless. Brian loathed him.

"See that you don't."

"Brian, your father had gambling debts," Justin began, knowing he was reckless, but needing to push past Brian's brittle facade. "Everyone knew."

Brian sprawled on the bed, expressionless.

"And somehow he repaid them all when you were twelve years old...?"

Coldly, "I took a commission in the Navy."

Justin nodded, taking the hint that there were some things Brian would never discuss, some things perhaps that would be unbearable for Justin to imagine. "I don't pretend to understand your life. It is alien to me and you are right; I am young. I would not even wish to be a parent at this time of my life except I must produce an heir."

"You have done precious little producing!"

Annoyance, but not as edged. Not something to cut and leave him bleeding. Justin took a deep breath. "I would have carried Augustus."

"Hmmmph." Brian folded his arms, unimpressed. "Easy enough to say now."

Justin's hand was on the door latch. He'd need to regroup, to soothe and center himself with his art before another encounter with his husband. But still he had his say, "Sir, I do not and never will consider you..." Justin swallowed. "My whore."

He felt the steady burn of Brian's gaze fixed on his back as he quit the room.



Part Four, “Sheer folly at the folly”

"It's n-not so bad here," Teddy reiterated as he tied Brian's cravat. It was a loose affair, for the more relaxed fashion of the country. Brian's jacket was fitted but the slight and vexing swelling above his groin could not--thank Christ!--be seen.

"I will not sit about like a fat, stupid hen waiting to lay an egg," Brian growled.

Teddy raised an eyebrow. "You are a model father."

"Better never a father."

"You had no choice, Brian," Teddy said, then swallowed thickly, obviously not wanting to inflame his master.

Brian growled something under his breath, remembering his hard work, the long nights...and his father showing up promptly once a month to take ninety percent of Brian's earnings as pater familias, head of the Kinney household.

Brian's nostrils flared. "My family is such an example of happy domesticity!"

"Prince Justin is painting in the rose garden."

"Why would you think I'd care where the whelp spends his time?"

...

Justin felt a tingle of electricity strike the back of his neck, distracting him from his absent-minded attention of his surroundings.

It felt a bit like someone leveling a pistol in his direction.

"Brian?"

He turned and saw his husband arranged casually against one of the folly pillars, dressed, shaved, altogether looking better than he'd previously chosen.

Brian gave a cool nod, eyes landing on the gardens, the espaliered pear trees in handsome tall blue pots, the freshly trimmed lawn which stretched to the wood...anywhere but on his lawful spouse.

Justin's heart was pounding.

He'd knocked diffidently on Brian's door for three nights but only glimpsed Brian's servant, Teddy. He'd been told his husband was indisposed.

More like seething, Justin had thought.

Now he felt a potent mixture of exhilaration and dread at seeing the beautiful Brian.

"Who is that?" Brian nodded to the boy in Justin's portrait.

"Oh, Clive, the under gardener's son." Something in Brian's fixed attention gave Justin unease. "He is but seven and ten."

"Hmmmm." Brian circled the drying canvas...and the artist.

Justin shoved back his hair, fingers trembling finely. "I suppose you want to fuck him."

Brian's eyes flew to his face and stayed there, as if reluctantly riveted.

"Another way to get back at me, my lord husband? Take the pretty boy who works for me and is my friend to bed. Laugh at me and how I'm lacking the virility to attract your attentions?"

Enough, enough! His hands were busy packing up his paints, his rags, and how pathetic that he would let himself be the one run off, but he couldn't take Brian's disdain.

"You are honest."

"I believe it best," Justin agreed quietly.

"Show me the color of your passion... If you dare," Brian challenged.

Justin stood there, staring, breathless. Did Brian think he'd run away? But he wanted to. He was a virgin and had never touched another man.

Heat burned his cheeks but he let his supplies fall and stepped closer to Brian, his body moving as if he were fencing.

En garde, said Brian's eyes.

"You are beautiful to me," Justin confessed simply, aching. "A delight to my senses. You send me aflame, husband."

Brian's lips tightened at the last name, but it was no more than the truth. They were wed, till death do them part.

"You may touch," he said archly.

"I...I--" Justin moved behind Brian, away from those cool, mocking eyes and the flicker of something underneath that made him hope.

Tentatively, he leaned close, face brushing the neat pony tail, smelling warm, healthy skin.

Brian did nothing, but Justin saw he was breathing more rapidly.

Something was happening between them. Bewildering. Powerful.

His arms wrapped around Brian, fingers hovering like wary birds before stroking the fine fabric covering Brian's chest. "Oh, God," Justin choked. "Oh, my God!"

Brian's nipple pointed wantonly into his stroking palm. His lips had softened, parted, his eyes were heavy.

I want him. Oh, let me have this moment, this touch. I am alone and cold and I want--

His hands skimmed daringly over Brian's abdomen.

Brian hissed and jerked away, eyes flaring like lit sherry.

He panted, glaring at Justin, fists balling, and then he shoved him so his back hit a rose entwined pillar.

Justin stared into feral, trapped eyes, caught.

He only breathed again when Brian strode away, boots ringing on the flagstones.



Part Five, “The Better Part of Valor”

Brian left his door slightly ajar.

Clive and his eager little friend licked and sucked him, and all the time they did, Brian anticipated, keeping a discreet watch.

Finally, he heard the creak of a step, glimpsed unsurprised blue eyes.

Justin's face, expressionless.

Quietly, he disappeared from view.

Brian frowned, sitting up. He was wearing a robe, only his sex revealed to the under gardener's son and his friend. "Finish it," he demanded, hand cupping one head.

He closed his eyes, trying to shove his noble husband out of his thoughts.

Annoyed at how long it was taking--the boys were enthusiastic but not particularly skillful--he reached for a jar of emollient he'd lately kept by his bedside.

A creamy finger stole under his robe.

He showed precious little sign of his hated condition, except for a near-constant arousal and the swelling of his prostate gland.

His finger rubbed while eager mouths ate him.

An image popped into his head of Justin doing this for him, seeing to him. Justin's finger up him while his pink, perfect lips parted to accept Brian's cock.

His head thrown back, he came lustily in someone's mouth.

...

"Time to leave, boys," Brian growled. He had climaxed but his mood was foul.

"But your bed is large enough for all three of us," Clive dared.

Brian scorched him with a glare for his impertinence. "Wrong. My bed is only large enough for me. Oh, and...what's your name again?"

Clive's friend flushed. "D-Dalton, Sir."

"You might want to practice with a lolly in your mouth before taking up cock sucking," Brian advised.

He didn't regret being candid with what's-his-name, Dalton, Brian told himself when he was alone. He covered his eyes with his forearm and mused that he himself had been much younger than either of the boys who had serviced him when his father sent him to 'entertain' an old man. He'd been terrified that first time and it had hurt, having someone invade him.

He'd loathed fucking until Sir George Shickle allowed him to top. Shickle hadn't been a lover in the spring of his years, but he'd been experienced.

...

Brian blinked, snapping his gloves against his skin tight trousers. "...Discretion."

Jaw tight, Prince Justin nodded. He was seated at his desk in his study, generations of his family, settlers from Old Earth, arrayed behind him in portraits. "Dalton quit and ran off to the city."

"What has that to do with me?"

"Do not dissemble, Brian. I saw him with you myself. You...hurt him."

Brian cocked a brow.

"You feel no regret?"

"None."

Justin sighed. "Simple kindness..."

"It was cock sucking, not charity."

"You will show some discretion."

Brian's eyes narrowed. "Or...?"

"Or I will cut your allowance."

Brian leaned forward, voice very soft. "In the war, I killed men for giving less offense."

Justin blinked. "You are threatening me?"

"I will be pushed only so far. You say you have a preference for honesty, so when you say 'be discreet,' isn't that a prelude to 'lie with me only?'"

Justin swallowed and then jolted out of his chair, restive. He finally looked at Brian. "...Yes."

"It will never happen. I did not choose you, I have no regard, no particular attachment to you. I chose your contacts, your wealth. I married them, not you."

Justin's face was pale as ivory. "May I...may I request you not dally with someone who is vulnerable?"

Brian's gaze held Justin's.

"Please, Brian. I swear it is not about me. You have made it clear you consider this merely business between us. But I ask for any innocents whom I employ."

Brian gave a sigh and his head fell back against the high backed chair. "Innocent indeed. He was certainly unschooled."


Justin's head dropped. "Like me, you mean."

Brian frowned, not having meant this time to--

Justin gave a bitter laugh. "Never mind! Thank you for that...and for the brandy."

"Ummm?"

"I know Teddy passed on my concern about drinking while you carry our son. And I think that you don't want to hurt Augustus."

"Is that what you think?" Brian stood. "I am off to attend a horse auction."

...

It was late and the best light was gone, but he was driven.

The eyes were not quite so mocking. The mouth relaxed in an almost smile. Disheveled hair, as if hands had run through it.

He reached out and made contact with his wish.

Thank God Brian never visited his studio.



Part Six, “The Ball”

Water slopped over the copper sides of Brian's tub, draped in linen.

"Huh haw, huh-- Uhhhhh!"

His now languid hand fell and the ivory dildo rolled across the tiles.

Brian sank deeper.

Tapping his bottom lip.

He got up and wrapped himself immediately in a robe.

Outside his window he glimpsed Justin, hair wild from the morning breeze, unshaven, lawn shirt mussed and covered with splotches of color, easel on his shoulder, a suggestion of a smile as two lumbering dogs bounded ahead of him.

Brian touched the glass.

Brooding.

...

"A ball?" Justin's eyes widened.

Brian's hair was still wet, curled against his neck. His clothing was slightly disheveled, as if he'd made a hasty escape from a married man's bed.

Justin's gaze fell away and he took a deep breath. Do not become aroused, he warned himself for the thousandth time. If he had to cross swords with Brian, he must keep his wits about him.

"Why a ball?"

"Because I can't do any myself for the moment."

Justin blinked, and then he understood the play on words and his cheeks stung. "...You could always hire someone."

"I will not permit anyone to see me in this--!" Brian closed his mouth and his nostrils flared but for once he didn't finish with 'damnable condition.'

Justin carefully folded his napkin and pushed aside his plate with a croissant. "No need to censor yourself. I am your husband."

Brian looked away. "Quite."

"If I am not mistaken, you use such affairs as hunting grounds. If you will not hunt then...?"

"It would be diversion."

"You are bored."

"Yes."

"You will have your ball, Sir."

Brian gave a curt nod.

Wistful, "Was it so hard to ask something of me?"

The door swung shut and Justin was alone again.

Brian's presence lingered, leaving an impression like a hard kiss against skin. Or an open handed slap.

Justin leaned forward with a groan and hid his face in his arms.

...

Lady Daphne ate cake over a napkin and followed her closest friend as he wound unhappily through the guests. "They are all here to see how matrimony finds you," she noted. "Married to the infamous Brian Kinney!"

Justin's mouth stretched in the motion of a smile. "Paradise."

"That good?"

"Worse."

"Um, well, I'm next, I'm afraid. I can't attend medical school until I've hitched myself to someone."

"Are you to be consulted at least?" Justin was sympathetic.

Daphne nodded. "Papa promised I could pick from the best of three, but I already know I want whoever he is to carry our first child. I won't have time."

"Your first!" Justin laughed.

"I want quite a few," Daphne said, unruffled.

Justin leaned close and kissed her. "I'm sure he'll be a lucky man."

"Of course he will!" Daphne and Justin continued to snake through the outskirts of the affair. White gloved ladies and gentlemen, hands joined briefly in the movements of the minuet, asking questions, issuing invitations with their eyes. "Your husband looks in your direction a great deal."

Justin shrugged, taking a glass of pink champagne. "I can't think why. Perhaps he hopes I'll drop dead and he'll be free of me."

"Ummmm." They both looked toward Brian, resplendent in charcoal made of spider silk, so it slid over his long back and muscular shoulders like black oil. He was surrounded by admirers, by stricken hopefuls.

Justin watched a tall blond slip his card into Brian's hand, Brian give a measured nod, as if approving whatever the man wanted, a hard fuck or possibly legitimate business.

"Dance with him!" Daphne challenged. "You are his husband so he must accommodate you."

...

Once he had offered friendship and watched hope crushed under a deliberate boot heel.

Something, the fresh air this morning, the secret painting above stairs, made him reckless.

"Sir, will you dance?" Blue eyes clashed with sherry. Justin could see Brian wanted to refuse, but of course, he could not.

And for once, Brian trapped evoked no shamed sympathy.

...

White gloved hands met, Brian's hand encompassing his own smaller one. They moved together smoothly, as if their bodies were meant to dance together.

Brian was silent, his eyes leveled at Justin's like pistols.

"I was surprised you accepted," Justin said quietly as the music throbbed fervently.

"You put on the ball."

Justin circled Brian, feeling the glare of hot sherry eyes while Brian's face was a cool mask to the rest of the ton.

"So this is gratitude."

"Of a kind." Brian handed Justin off to another partner, a lady, and Justin stepped around her, bowing before returning to Brian.

"Are you diverted then?"

"It is tolerable."

The brush of Brian's jacket against his own. High color in his cheeks as he held Brian's gaze, swallowing thickly. "The dance seems longer when you are not a spectator."

"That is true of all dances with me," Brian purred.

"Who was that man whose card you accepted?"

Brian's eyes narrowed.

"Curiosity on my part."

"He is Brandon, someone who wishes to do business with me."

"Um."

"What?"

"He is striking, don't you think?"

"I had not noticed."

They swung like planets in far orbit before returning to brush against each other politely.

Justin's heart was thudding.

"I am surprised you haven't locked yourself in your studio. Sought refuge from your brute of a husband."

Justin raised his chin. "I am merely adjusting to our marriage, but in time I will do so."

Brian frowned. "What does that mean?"

Their hands reached, clasped. Their eyes dueled.

"I never wanted a 'fashionable' arrangement," Justin said. "But since you have rebuffed my attempts at affection, I shall look for it elsewhere."

Edged, "You threaten me?"

Justin burst into laughter. "Threaten, my lord husband! How so? You have made your lack of feeling for me clear. No, marriage is like this dance. When I was in the school room I did not see the point of learning all these steps. I felt ridiculous and awkward. Yet now I know the movements. And now I choose when to dance and who to partner."

The music tailed off and they bowed.

Brian took his hand and led him from the floor. "You know nothing of dancing, Justin," he warned.

...

He loosened his cravat, making a sound like a small animal seeking refuge in the den as he pushed open his studio door.

Brian.

Shirt unbuttoned, hair messy, color high in olive cheeks, his eyes struck Justin like the flat of a blade.

Justin made a choked sound as he saw his painting...

Torn. Paint still wet so crimson stained Brian's hands like the blood of Justin's wish.

Fury!

He struck Brian, the slap a gauntlet between them.

Brian shoved him against the wall. "How dare you?!"

"He was mine."

"Has anyone else seen...?"

"No." Justin stared into sherry eyes lit by fire. "I told you he is mine."

Panting, "You triumph over your invasion of my flesh."

"No! Not that, not triumph," Justin clarified. Hurt, furious, a little afraid of this wild Brian. "I desire you as you are. I wish I could see--"

Brian smacked his hand away. "I told you this is business."

"I want you like this."

Brian's face twisted.

"...Just like this." Very deliberately this time, Justin placed his palm over Brian's abdomen.



Part Seven, “Lulled in the Bedchamber”

Previously:

He struck Brian, the slap a gauntlet between them.

Brian shoved him against the wall. "How dare you?!"

"He was mine."

"Has anyone else seen...?"

"No." Justin stared into sherry eyes lit by fire. "I told you he is mine."

Panting, "You triumph over your invasion of my flesh."

"No! Not that, not triumph," Justin clarified. Hurt, furious, a little afraid of this wild Brian. "I desire you as you are. I wish I could see--"

Brian smacked his hand away. "I told you this is business."

"I want you like this."

Brian's face twisted.

"...Just like this." Very deliberately this time, Justin placed his palm over Brian's abdomen.

"I don't know whether to kill you, Sir, or fuck you," Brian whispered. His face had a pallor that made freckles stand out. His eyes were earnest, fixed on Justin, and then they rolled back in his head.

Justin grabbed Brian...feet skidding...

"Uh! Shit!" He pushed free of Brian's dead weight. "God! God help us!" Buttons flew as Justin tore open Brian's shirt, checked his pulse. "...Loosen the clothing," Justin recited under his breath, remembering the many books on pregnancy he'd pored over. He reached for the thin snake of Brian's belt, releasing it with shaking fingers and then tearing open Brian's high trousers to find...

"You bloody idiot!" Justin roared, climbing to his feet and looking wildly around until he spotted the dull gleam of a pallet knife. "You fucking peacock!"

...

"Just w-what do you think you're--!" Brian's eyes bulged and he turned his head in time to vomit on the back of Justin's hand.

He lay panting, watching dully as Justin snatched a painting rag and wiped himself clean, before climbing to his feet and going over to the painter's sink. There he removed his shirt, revealing pointed shoulder bones and porcelain skin.

A moment later he was back, pressing the cold, damp material to Brian's forehead, cheeks and throat. "Lie still."

Brian swallowed, closing his eyes and turning his face away. "Get your hands off me!"

Dab. Dab. "If you weren't so pathetic, I'd hit you again," Justin said, very calmly.

...

"Burned."

Teddy blinked, shoving the hair out of his eyes. He'd been summoned by the prince to help his cursing master back to his bedchamber in the middle of the night. He wished these two would find a more congenial hour to live out their passion play.

"All of them, Teddy." Prince Justin's jaw ticked. "He's... God! He doesn't need to wear a goddamned corset!"

A thump and fresh swearing. Teddy gave Brian's room a harried glance. "I b-better get back to him." He looked at the prince. "Of course he doesn't need one."

...

It was nearly dawn when Brian frowned, sitting up in his massive canopy bed.

"Oh, it's you."

Justin shrugged, rubbing his eyes. He was seated in a wing chair, watching over Brian.

"It's your fault, what happened."

"You were the one who violated my studio, ripped my painting...!"

"What the fuck did you think I'd do? It was..."

"Beautiful."

"Disgusting."

"There is nothing disgusting about carrying our Augustus," Justin said sternly. "And anyway, I sent the piece to the recycler and it's all mended now. Perhaps I'll even hang it in the Great Room."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Justin got up, stretching. "I'm seriously tempted!"

"Showing your mastery over me?"

Justin laughed. "Oh, yes."

"You can't..." Brian swallowed, as if loathe to continue.

Justin sighed. "I told you he was mine. I won't show him to anyone."

"How did you know what I look like?" Brian gave him a suspicious look.

Justin put a knee on the satin bedspread. "My research. I have looked at thousands of holograms of men with your body type while carrying a child."

Brian made a face. "Why in God's name would you want to?"

"I told you how I feel." He was sprawled at the far side of the bed now, the peaks and hollows of blankets and sheets between them.

"You have a thing for pregnant men?"

"No." Justin smoothed the sheeting, leaning back against silk pillows. "It's you."

Brian turned, eyes riveted on Justin's face.

"Do you know what it's like, to be married to such a man?"

Brian's face relaxed.

"Knowing every man and woman wants you. Hearing what a legend you are in the bedroom." Justin stroked the mohair spread that lay between them. "Perfect pleasure."

"Not of late," Brian growled.

"Only for a very short time, then you'll be prowling the baths and bedchambers belonging to beautiful men. Except...you'll have a son."

Drowsy, "Will he hate me?"

Justin's eyes flared wide. He swallowed and when he could manage an even tone, he asked, "Why would you assume that?"

But Brian's eyes were closed now.

A long time later, Justin whispered, "You make me hurt."

And Brian grunted, "Good. I want you to hurt, damn you."


Part Eight, “Masquerade”

Justin's eyes flared open. He was still in Brian's bed. He must have fallen asleep...

Brian was leaning over him, lawn shirt open and falling off one rounded shoulder, pointed nipple revealed, palms flat on either side of Justin's head, hazel eyes so close, predator close.

Justin's lips parted and his eyes shifted from the animal-like gaze to Brian's lips...

"Get. Out." Brian growled.

...

Justin sagged against Brian's closed door and closed his eyes.

So hard, so hard for Brian.

He couldn't endure this!

...

"My family." Brian was in Justin's private study again, dressed impeccably since he planned to visit his club for a game of whist.

"Yes, I have issued an invitation for your sister and her children and your father and mother to visit our country house."

Brian's jaw tightened. "Why in God's name would you do that?"

"They are family."

"They are not your family."

Justin's face tightened. "Our son..."

"I don't want them near him!" Brian shouted. He was on his feet, his fists balled. When had he...? He wiped a hand over the perspiration on his upper lip.

"Are you willing to confide in me?" Justin sighed. "I thought not. Very well then, I will meet with them and make up my own mind. Good day to you, husband."

Brian made a growling sound under his breath and slammed out of the door.

The meddling upstart!

...

Bent over, panting, but he couldn't seem to get the right angle and a sudden muscle cramp rippled through his abdomen. Damnation! He tossed the dildo to the floor as a taunting vision played in his mind's eye.

Justin, his honorable husband, seeing to his needs.

He hadn't been able to distract himself with cards, gritting his teeth when he thought about his oh-so-reasonable husband's plan to bring Brian's family to the country.

Brian's eyes narrowed. No, he would never yield. But there might be another way to deal with his accursed appetite. Anonymous. Clinical.

Most importantly, his desire would be sated and the virtuous little monk he lived with would have none of him.

...

The menu for Masquerade was complex. Seated in a wing chair in his bed chamber, Brian took his time, sipping the artificial brandy Justin had provided from his cellar.

He closed his eyes, considered, and then went with instinct.

Intimacy level: 5%.
Age of desirable partner: 20 years of age or younger.
Physical appearance: Blond, blue eyes, pale skin.
Level of desired experience: very little to none.
Married or unmarried? Married.

He swallowed the flame of synthehol, his penis tenting his silk robe. Crossing, uncrossing his legs.

...

He had a bad moment placing his ankles in the stirrups. It reminded him of the indignity of being inseminated.

His thighs slowly relaxed as he watched the lubed wand come down, broach him, reading temperature, sensitivity, mapping his want.

His eyes half closed...

Christ, it felt so good!

He hated his condition, but one 'benefit' was how highly sexed he was, and his drive had by no means been on the meager side before his arranged marriage. Of course, he still preferred to chase, to run to ground, to conquer...but his prostate gland was ridiculously sensitive and if he stimulated it, he could experience intense release. But it was work, bringing himself off all the bloody time.

So why not use someone as his tool, young cock chosen and controlled by him for his relief?

The curtain fell, shielding his upper body and preserving his anonymity.

His suitor had arrived.

...

Nervous, heart pounding in his throat.

He wiped his palms on the fine wool of his trousers.

So cold, using someone, for his very first time.

But his beautiful, untamed, maddening husband was driving him insane with desire.

If I can't get relief by honorable means...

He entered the enclosure which was a little like a water closet. Except the main amenity here to be used was flesh, spread muscled thighs, body arranged to be fucked.

Despite his apprehension, Justin felt a wave of heat at seeing another hard cock, seeing need to match his own.

He unbuttoned his pants, feeling like he might spill at any moment.

He climbed on the mounting stool and palmed himself, having read the directions over and over and over again in the goddamned waiting room.

This stranger should be ready, no need for--

He thrust inside, eyes rolling back in his head as he gave a long moan. God!

The legs bracketing him shifted and he thought he caught a stifled gasp from beyond the curtain.

"All right...?" he breathed.

"Harder, damn you!" came a whispered demand.

Oh, yes, oh, God, yes!

His eyes closed and his heart galloped and he thrust, in and out, God, so tight. He wasn't in Masquerade Shop, but in his husband's forbidden and alluring bedchamber and it was Brian he was servicing. Brian...!

Close. Nearly forgot--

"I wish to spill in you," he begged softly.

His stranger didn't answer him directly, but a broad palm touched Justin's thigh in silent permission and his vision whited out as he roared completion, triumph, spilling in the hot, slutty body.

...

After, his face was wet with tears he didn't remember shedding. Wistful that he couldn't see a face, hear a name.

He studied the body he'd spent inside, wanting some memory of losing his virginity. He could see the slight swell of pregnancy since he'd requested that, wanting the fantasy that he was having his husband. The strong cradle of thighs and hips. This man would be taller and more muscular than himself. Silky olive skin...and a small heart-shaped mole on the inner left thigh.

He carried the man's hand to his lips and kissed it fervently.



Part Nine, “En famille”

"Very nice country seat you have, your highness," Jack Kinney praised, sipping his cold melon soup.

Seated at the head of the table, Justin nodded, reaching for his white wine.

Claire Kinney was at the far end of the table with her mother, Joan. Claire's two offspring were somewhere on the grounds and couldn't be found for luncheon.

And his husband, Brian, was hunched at the center of the table, ignoring his own soup, eyes on his setting. He somehow looked...smaller to Justin's eyes, as if he were holding in those now-familiar sparks of rebellion inside.

"It serves my family."

"And family is everything!" Jack continued heartily. "You picked a good husband: Brian knows how to do his duty."

Brian's hand tightened on the napkin he was playing with.

"Yes, of course," Justin said after a pause. He wasn't sure what his new spouse was expecting of him, but a gentleman did not air his personal disputes in public.

"Tell me, do you play cards?"

From the far side, Joan Kinney's lips turned down at Jack's inquiry.

"No, I have not that talent."

"All the better!"

"I have heard, Sir, that it is also a talent you lack."

Jack's face reddened and he turned to glare at Brian.

"It is well known," Justin intervened quietly.

"I have had some runs of bad luck. But nothing I couldn't cover."

Brian stood abruptly. "You will excuse me?" His gaze barely brushed Justin's, ignoring his father.

"Of course." Even knowing Brian would hate it, Justin couldn't stifle concern. "You are well?"

Heated sherry eyes damned him for asking.

Justin swallowed, hearing the click of Brian's heels. He wanted to go after his husband, ask him...

"Nice to see him brought down a peg, if you ask me," Jack continued after Brian left. "He was high and mighty after commanding one of her Majesty's ships. Bloody war hero."

"He was justly proud." Justin forced himself to stay, to measure Jack. He needed to understand his new family. For the good of his son. And perhaps...his husband.

"I suppose." Jack pushed aside his soup and signaled for more brandy. "I would have allowed him to remain a bachelor."

Justin sipped his wine. "A bachelor has no control over his assets."

...

"The two bra-- Uh, children, set fire to the barn, your highness," Teddy said after lunch when Justin visited Brian's bedchamber, looking for his husband.

"Good God! The horses?"

"Brian saw to it. Your animals are fine."

"Teddy..."

Brian's manservant turned away, folding Brian's clothing neatly even though a droid could perform the task. Justin rather thought Teddy liked to do it. "If that is all, Sir."

So he wouldn't share, but Teddy's cold disapproval was like a brisk slap of fresh air. Perhaps message enough.

"I'd like to find him."

Brown eyes flickered in his direction. Teddy said, "You'll have to look for him, Sir."

"I know I shall. But I will persist."

Teddy studied him. "Very good, Sir." He cleared his throat. "H-he went for a walk in the woods."

"But the weather is scheduled to storm this afternoon. Wasn't Brian informed?" Justin shot a worried look at the sheets of rain falling, the crack of lightning beyond the windows of the castle.

"I told him," Teddy sighed.

Concern gripped Justin's throat. "The woods."

...

Hours later, Justin tramped through deep cool puddles as the branches of trees whipped back and forth. There was no sign of his husband and Brian wasn't wearing a locator bracelet like everyone else on the estate.

Typical.

Justin had covered kilometers of brambles and oak, maple and cedar.

I will persist.

Great cloak flapping and sodden, he entered the rose garden.

...

He found Brian in the gazebo, his clothes stained and muddy, wearing a lawn shirt, plastered to damp skin.

Justin made a choked sound, removing his heavy cloak and putting it over Brian's shoulders.

He knelt beside his husband, aching.

Finally he said, "You were out walking then?"

Brian gave a small laugh. "Yes."

He couldn't stop himself. Very carefully, he stroked Brian's back. "I have been untrue," he confessed.

Brian lifted his brows. "You? You are the Wordsworth of husbands."

Justin looked down at Brian's pale, chilled hands, wanting to warm, to touch. "I gave my virginity to another."

"Oh."

He braved Brian's glance. "I saved myself for marriage but..."

"You didn't know what you were marrying."

Justin frowned. "What I married...?" And then his eyes widened. "You are not a whore, Brian."

Brian looked away, seeming not to see Justin kneeling, earnest.

"Brian, whatever you did..."

"I feel..." But Brian said no more.

Justin thought furiously, straining to understand. "A pregnant man might experience feelings not, ahem, typical of his character."

Brian was silent.

"You will be yourself again. Beautiful men will catch their breath when you enter the room, wishing to be yours."

"But you..." Brian hadn't pulled away.

"I find you beautiful now and always." Daring, Justin placed a hand against the slight swell of Brian's abdomen. Brian's eyes narrowed but he didn't shove Justin away. "I chose a pregnant man, a man who resembled you."

"...You did?" Brian blinked.

Justin swallowed. "Yes." He stood and offered his hand. "Come back to the castle, please?"

Brian studied him and finally sighed. "You are becoming as much a bloody nag as Teddy."

He took Justin's hand but released it as soon as he was on his feet again.

They walked side by side a little, passing flowers hanging low with the weight of water. "I am your husband," Justin said.



Part Ten, “Difficult Duet”

"Divorced?" Brian blinked.

The boy Justin had left him alone for two days after that unsettling encounter in the rose garden. Not that Brian had been unduly stressed, but he didn't want to see Justin possessing any qualities that might make them friends. They were married, damn it!

"Yes," Justin's voice was tight, but his eyes were on the papers on his desk.

"This is a surprise. I thought you wanted--"

Now blue eyes looked up, sizzled Brian with a glare. "What I want I will never find within this marriage."

Brian frowned. Why did the little princeling have to do things like this? Unexpected things that captured his attention. "Divorce after the...uh, Augustus doesn't change my position."

Justin's lips quirked at the way Brian stumbled over talking about their heir. "No, you will enjoy all the rights of a married man, liberated of your..." Justin cleared his throat. "Father."

Brian's lips tightened.

"Come now, you never meant to be monogamous."

"God, no!"

Justin looked back at his papers. "So it should be a point of indifference."

Brian stood up from the damned uncomfortable audience chair. His father had one just like it in his office. "I am." He waited a beat until blue eyes looked up reluctantly and then delivered the slap. "Indifferent."

...

A day later he was slapping his leather gloves against his breeches, pacing back and forth in the vicinity of the front door. The weather was scheduled for bucolic blue skies so the boy would be out painting.

Brian wasn't exactly seeking him out.

He was merely curious.

Blond ruffled hair, a deplorably wrinkled white lawn shirt and trousers that were paint splattered.

His little virgin.

He frowned. Well, ex-virgin. I have been untrue.

...A man who looked like Brian, a pregnant man.

"Brian!" Justin's eyes warmed with innocent welcome before a cooler curtain fell.

Brian nodded stiffly. "You wish to dally with other men?"

"What?" Justin blinked. "I wish to paint." He hefted the easel.

Impatient, "Not now, I mean-- Brandon found you particularly desirable." Brian could of kicked himself as soon as he confessed Brandon's needling. Why give the child ideas?

"Oh, did he?" The blank look endured. "Uh. How nice."

"So you wish a divorce so you may pursue other men."

Justin sighed, walking over the graveled path, Brian following. "I thought you were indifferent. You said--"

"You will be the father of my--" He cut off the word spawn since he didn't think it would keep the charity between them. "You are young, inexperienced."

"As you daily make me aware. The answer is simple." Justin paused, confronting Brian. "I told you I wanted to be friends."

"...Friends?"

"Yes. And you will never forgive me, never see me as a person, as long as I am your husband, symbol of your brief submission."

Brian's eyes narrowed.

"I told you I would have carried Augustus."

"Your negotiators used the difference in our stations to your benefit."

Justin sighed. "They kept me out of it. I wanted to meet you, court you--"

"That's daft!"

Justin smiled. "So I was told. Brian, why did you seek an alliance with my family? It meant you almost certainly had to be the one."

"Divorce will not mean you abandon our son?" He glared, getting to the heart of what prodded him. "You have to keep it. I mean, him."

"Of course I will." Justin dropped his easel and went to Brian, studying him. "Brian..."

"And my fath-- My family will have no part in his life. You will not allow--"

Frowning, Justin shook his head. "I did not like your family very much. I'm sorry if this distresses you."

Brian gave a bark of laughter. "Distresses me!"

Bewilderment. Kindness.

He couldn't endure it so he turned on his heel and left his soon to be ex-husband with his scattered art supplies.

...

"Brooding again," Teddy prodded.

"I am not," Brian managed evenly. "I am writing letters of business. I have investments. All mine now, thank Christ!"

"Oh, yes." Teddy placed a cup of tea by Brian's hand at the elegant gentleman's desk by the window facing the rose garden. "It's not his fault, you know."

Brian sighed. "This is tedium."

"He really did want to be part of the negotiations but you were--" Teddy swallowed at Brian's glare. "You were not receptive."

"I was receptive enough. He knocked me up."

"He sent you flowers from his garden. A portrait of himself."

Brian returned to his writing, but as his tea cooled he paused to look out the window and saw Justin returning, face flushed with healthy, youthful color.

...

In the baths, Brian blinked sleepily as steam softened marble columns and statues in the Greek style. He was wearing a towel around his waist with a key emblem in gold, where normally he disdained anything to hide his body.

I have it, therefore I flaunt it.

But he was alone.

He reached down and stroked himself, prodded again by desire.

Drifting, eyes closed, he remembered the insemination. He'd decided to get it over with quickly, like an appointment at dawn.

The doctor had hesitated, studying Brian lying on the medical bed. "Your husband asked to be present."

"Get on with it!" His eyes were red from the night before. Beautiful men, losing himself in asses and mouths--

"Do you wish a clear head? There is the fantasy program."

Brian fought a brief battle with himself. "Drug me up, Doc," he ordered at last.

...He'd expected some tall Nordic god to fuck him pregnant in the dream program, but a hesitant blond covered him. Took his hand as he pushed inside, Brian's unlikely suitor.

His awkwardness, his innocence... Brian had--

"Brian!" The voice of the hesitant blond. Kneeling beside Brian, cupping his face. "You were cursing. I spoke to you twice. Are you well?"

Brian closed his eyes, panting, chest covered with steam, with sweat. He cleared his throat.

"You have come back to yourself." Justin's hand fell away and his muscles tightened in preparation of leaving.

Brian shoved down the towel, revealing his hard, needy cock. "You like pregnant men?" he rasped. "Here is one you can see to."

Justin's lips parted.



Part Eleven

Previously:

"Brian!" The voice of the hesitant blond. Kneeling beside Brian, cupping his face. "You were cursing. I spoke to you twice. Are you well?"

Brian closed his eyes, panting, chest covered with steam, with sweat. He cleared his throat.

"You have come back to yourself." Justin's hand fell away and his muscles tightened in preparation of leaving.

Brian shoved down the towel, revealing his hard, needy cock. "You like pregnant men? Here is one you can see to."

Justin's lips parted.

"Do you not wish to suck it?" Brian rasped, heavy-lidded sherry eyes glinting like the edge of a blade. "Look at it!" He stroked his erection.

Justin's eyes widened as he reached out and touched Brian's inner thigh. "Y-yes."

Brian snared Justin by the hair. "Service me," he growled, almost a threat.

Justin, staring at him with huge blue eyes, panting as Brian panted. Then he bent close and pressed a kiss against the base of Brian's cock.

Brian's eyes shut tightly, as if shutting Justin out, but he made a deep sound of relief...of need.

"Does this feel good, my lord husband?" Justin was moved to be mischievous, following the wiggly line of a vein with his pointed tongue.

"Stop!" Brian's eyes snapped open. "Justin! I want to fuck that teasing little mouth, see it thrusting in."

"I--" Justin's face was flushed, his eyes sleepy from lust, from the steam surrounding them, which provided a softened world for their encounter.

Again the grip in his hair, tugging, not rough, but impatient, commanding.

The feel and look of this Brian ascendant made Justin's own penis twitch and he gave a thready sound as Brian guided him to his cock.

Brian's dark hair matted and dripping with sweat, gaze focused as he watched Justin accepting him as if he lived for that sight. "At last I find a means to silence you."

Brian climbed to his feet, hand on Justin's head, holding it in place, letting his own head fall back as he began thrusting in Justin's warm, innocent mouth.

Justin licked, sucked, ardent, worshiping. His hands came up and clasped Brian's hips, stroking until they ran over the slight bump of Brian's pregnancy.

And then without warning, a hot spill.

He choked, unready, looking up to meet slitted, satisfied eyes as Brian fed him his come.

...

"I don't need your help!"

But Brian staggered and Justin didn't remove his grip on his arm.

"You are over warm, husband. The steam and the..." Justin's eyelashes swept down.

"Your brat, sir!"

Calmly, "Yes."

Justin tried to guide Brian back to a marble bench but Brian shoved him.

"I want my life! I don't want to carry your filthy--!"

Justin's hand raised, palm trembling and ready. Again he and Brian panted, gazes locked. Slowly his hand fell and he stared at it as if shocked at his quick rage. "No one effects me as you do, husband."

Brian leaned close, hand on a pillar. His lips curved. "I think you owe me special compensation."

Justin's eyes narrowed. "Is that what you think? And what would be the nature of this compensation?"

"You. I can't hunt, so you are mine to use as I see fit." Brian's gaze ran over Justin's eyes, his parted lips, the moon colored skin of his bare shoulder.

Justin swallowed thickly. "That is not part of our contract."

"You are mine," Brian vowed. "For the duration of this hated exercise."

...

Outside the estate's private baths, Justin collapsed against an oak tree, torn between wanting to throw off his towel and...and find release or vomit on the grass!

He felt hunted, felt almost Brian's breath against the back of his neck.

God, could he find no peace!

Did Brian think he found any pleasure in this blasted arrangement? Who would want to be married to a man so uncivil, so untamed?

He remembered the friendly boy from the neighboring estate, Ethan. He'd seen marriage as Justin did. He also pursued the art of music, not unlike Justin's obsession for painting. If it had been possible, Justin would have married him because they were surely more in charity than Brian and Justin would ever be!

Justin wiped his lips with the back of his hand, still tasting Brian, penis hard as he fell to his knees on the grass and remembered how he'd been guided, commanded, to suck cock. He'd loved it, loved the way Brian had treated him--

Except he also hated it because Brian was so mean, so scornful, his words, his manner, acid on Justin's pride.

He wanted to tear his hair, but his hand was moving fast now, working, reaching for the inevitable conclusion to even five minutes in the presence of his damnable husband.

...

After his climax, Justin lay on his back, looking up at the clouds drifting past.

He wished he could be so free.

He had no desire to be the dragging anchor holding Brian's leg. He didn't even know if he wanted to be a father. It was just the done thing, so he supposed he'd be good enough at it. He wanted to protect Augustus. He imagined if the child was happy, he'd be a pleasant new companion.

Perhaps he'd like painting.

Oh, God, the mole.

He'd touched that, seen it, on the pregnant 'whore' he'd serviced at Masquerade.

But it had been his husband he'd ridden.

Brian would kill him if he ever knew...!

The thought was so tantalizing, so forbidden.

Paint. He must paint that moment, except without veils, without reservations.

He sat up with a groan, his body covered with grass, with come, his hair springing everywhere. He should shower, refresh himself, eat--

Paint now.

His muse was upon him, relentless as Brian.



Part Twelve, “Burn”

Well, it's not hard to see
Anyone who looks at me
Knows I am just a rolling stone
Never landing anyplace to call my own
To call my own

Aftermath:

In his bedchamber, Brian paced, smoking.

His gaze caught on the bed, the rumpled section where--

...

Justin lay awake in his magnificent bed, stretching miles around his body, curled in the fetal position, spend drying against his skin.

He put an arm over his eyes to block out the light when the dawn finally came.

Catalyst:

"Your husband is one of our 'at risk' patients. Due to his age and hostility to the process," the doctor in the local clinic said in a low tone, hand gripping Justin's shoulder as Justin slumped in a chair.

Justin's shirt was half buttoned, hair in his eyes, his trousers randomly chosen and spattered with blood. Oh, God, Brian! "He is w-well?"

The doctor pressed his lips together. "His manservant is with him now. And the baby is fine, Sir."

"Oh." Justin flushed. "I am glad our child is secure."

"Whatever happens you have to keep him calm, do you understand? The strain of a male carrying a child, despite all our technology... Your husband is very high strung."

...

Earlier that evening:

Well, it seems like so long ago
But it really ain't you know
I started out a crazy kid
Miracle I made it through the things I did
The things I did

"What?" He flung open the door of his studio and blinked as the low light of sunset struck his eyes. He had lost track of time. "Oh. Brian."

Brian strode inside, pacing back and forth. "I find you unwelcoming."

"I..." Justin pushed back his hair. "I am used to being left to my own devices."

"But you are a married man now, Sir. Must I remind you?" Brian's eyes were over bright. He walked by landscapes, by portraits, hand grazing dried canvas leaning against the walls.

The energy in the room shifted dramatically, as if everything was sucked into the dark, unstable star of restive Brian.

Justin blinked, thinking this could be another painting, another piece of the puzzle... His cramped fingers twitched with the need for his brush.

"No, I will not allow it!" Suddenly Brian was cupping his chin in fingers applying carefully measured pressure.

"Allow what?" Justin licked his lips.

"Your familiar outlet, your escape. Your muse will not have you because I want you."

Justin's eyes widened with distress as he remembered Brian's threat in the baths. You are mine. "You can't be serious! Have you no regard for my feelings?"

"None." Brian smiled, cornering Justin against some of his works.

"But without some token of...feeling!" Justin exploded, at bay.

"Token, indeed," Brian whispered against Justin's ear. He tongued it and Justin gasped. "My easy slut. I want, and when I want you will service me."

"This is vengeance."

Brian cocked his head, as if amused by Justin's need to break it down to reason. "It is convenience, Sir, as you once made use of me as one."

Justin's eyes saucered. Oh, God, could Brian know that Justin had fucked him? Disaster!

"Putting your spawn inside me," Brian continued, soft voice vibrating with lightning. "Don't tell me that does not give you satisfaction."

Justin looked away, unshed tears in his eyes. "I...can't deny I feel some kind of primitive--"

Brian's hand took his, and he placed it over a heavy erection, concealed by fawn colored satin breeches. "Do you know what I wish, husband?" The name was a blade, a cut.

Justin wilted against the wall, his body living through his hand touching the beautiful Brian.

"I wish I had a bell I could ring whenever I am needy so that you might open your obedient mouth and--"

Justin wrenched away. "This is madness! You think we will come away unscathed? Surely you can see we are wrong for each other!"

"I don't care." Brian's eyes heated, impatient sherry. "I will destroy you to get what I need."

"Barbarian!" Justin choked. "I am not so easily broken."

They kissed, a collusion like comets meeting, destruction, desire.

Another sound. At first he thought it was want, and he was ready now, stiff under his clothing, but it was a thread of stifled pain.

Brian's face contorted, bones standing out like the ivory sticks of a fan, and blood, blood seeping through cloth like clouds of scarlet paint.

...

Oh I’d rather walk a winding road
Rather know the things I know
See the world with my own eyes
No regrets, no looking back, no goodbyes
No goodbyes

Brian's face averted as he lay on the medical bay. Readings, clean linen, his bare chest and clenched hand.

Diffident, Justin approached, seeing Teddy's weary concern, his hand on Brian's arm.

Brian turned his head, unblinking eyes on Justin.

"It will be as you require." Justin's eyes stung. His baby, his husband. High strung. Of course he was, and after all Justin's reading, how could he tussle now with his husband? It didn't matter it wasn't fair. His husband was pregnant and Justin had to be a man, even if an unready mate, an unready father. "When you have...need, send your manservant to summon me. Day or night."

Brian's eyes lit with satisfaction dimmed only by his recent physical distress.

Justin wanted to hate him for that, but he took Brian's limp hand and kissed the back of it fervently. If I am gentle, will I gentle him, this wild animal I have married?

...

I had a chance to settle down
Get a job and live in town
Work in some old factory
I never liked the foreman standing over me
Over me

He was barely awake two nights later, summoned by an unshaven and equally sleepy Teddy who said, "Why the devil can't you two sleep in the same room?"

Justin colored. "He doesn't like to share his bed. And we can't seem to share the same space with ease."

"Hmmmph." Teddy shook his head. "I used to wish for grand romance."

Justin's lips quirked. "This is not romance. This is shattered plates on a kitchen table. This is ruin."

...

"On your hands and knees." The soft voice, ordering him into position.

Shame heated his cheeks, even as his penis stiffened. He gasped when slick fingers circled him and then pushed inside. Brian had a knee on the bed, his breeches open already. His eyes had that same fixed brightness.

"I have never--" Justin bit his lip on a cry of discomfort as a cock broached him for the very first time.

Brian's hand on his back. "Breathe through it."

Eyes squeezed shut. He'd wanted this invasion?

In and out, Brian's lips parted in an almost smile. "Relax."

Justin sent him a resentful glare over his shoulder which only made Brian's smile grow, and then the too big cock inside him bumped something and electricity sparked, nipples, balls, inside... He cried out in surprise, his cock hardening again.

The pain was suddenly even good, fitting, him and Brian.

His hand reached back and dug into Brian's hip.

Brian laughed softly, triumphantly. "Slut."

...

Someday I'll go where there ain't no rain or snow
‘Til then, I travel alone
And I make my bed with the stars above my head
And dream of a place called home

Panting, collapsed on the bed. He hadn't come, not quite, but Brian had gone off like a celebratory fire cracker and then he'd slumped over Justin, almost unconscious.

Frustrated, but aware this was another symptom of his husband's condition, Justin disengaged their bodies awkwardly.

Brian shifted to his side of the bed, almost dead asleep. "I'm done."

His ass was sore and used.

His erection throbbed.

Justin made himself get off the bed, moving gingerly as he dressed in silence.

He closed the door softly behind him and walked through dim hallways, returning to his bedroom, his own place.



Part Thirteen, “Dalliance”

Brian took Justin's wrist, familiar focused look in his eyes--

Justin dragged his heels. "I cannot...!"

"I care nothing for waiting on the convenience of your muse, Sir," Brian growled, in a fine mood, but when was he not?

"I don't want--" Justin flushed at the light in Brian's eyes.

"We both know that is a lie," Brian murmured, merciless as he put a hand on the pillar of the veranda where he'd found Justin taking tea. "You love cock inside you, husband. Even if you cheat yourself and refuse to come."

Justin reminded himself the man was pregnant, but God...! "I can't let go."

"You mean you won't."

Quietly, "You have said you will not be made to care what I feel."

"Poor Justin, marriage not the domestic bliss you dreamed of."

Justin shoved his face close to Brian's. "Let me be clear, Sir, being married to you is hell. I am in hell."

Brian's eyes held his and then his lips...Somehow...Justin didn't mean to allow this--

Claiming, warming.

Justin moaned--

And pulled back, his neat pony tail mussed from Brian's ardent grip. "We have company."

Brian scowled.

"Fine, go back to your room and pout, husband. I go to greet my very amicable guest."

Brian glared. "A pox on your company! Who is this guest?"

Justin's eyes widened innocently. "An old friend who sees the world as I do."

"A naive fool, you mean?"

"Someone with ideals, yes. Someone who hasn't whored himself for his freedom!" Justin closed his eyes a second later, appalled at his own words. How could he be so cruel? Brian was turning him into a monster!

"But I was a very good whore," Brian bit off. "Do you know what that is like?"

Justin opened his eyes and raised his chin, taking Brian's bitterness. He had gone too far, been the angry person he became lately because he hurt...

"I lived a very protected life, so you know I do not."

"No, you do not."

"But your life is only partly responsible for your choices now," Justin said earnestly. Why, oh, why, did he still seek to reach this wild animal he'd married? Brian always tore into him for any sign of gentleness.

And Justin was weary of it.

"Why don't you embroider that on a cushion somewhere?" Brian asked lightly.

"Have the last word, the last stab into my flesh. But I cry enough! I am off to meet Lord Ethan."

"Oh, him."

"Yes." Justin adjusted his collar.

"You look as fine as you are capable."

"You seem to find my hair and skin to your liking when you are--" Painful color stung his cheeks. He thought Brian found him attractive. He ordered him to his bed constantly. Touching his skin, fisting his hair as he mounted him.

They fucked in almost-silence.

They never kissed.

Shredded. He had to get away from this intimate monster.

"Don't." Brian's lips were on his forehead, brushing a suggestion of tenderness.

Hungry, Justin's hands clasped Brian's upper arms, his face raised in search of this alien offered warmth. "Don't?" he whispered.

"Don't think I'll give you what you want if you play with him." Brian's eyes were bright.

"You are killing me!" Justin choked. "You perverse creature!"

Brian studied him.

"You are looking for weakness, but I am only tired. And I have told you if I cannot find happiness in this marriage, I will look for it elsewhere. Because I deserve it, damn you!"

Brian said, "You go looking for appreciation. For sweet words!"

Justin shrugged, resigned. "I will never find them in my marriage bed, husband."

...

"...And when I played for Lady Heartly, all conversation ceased!"

Justin smiled. "Quite an accomplishment, dear Ethan!"

Ethan put down his instrument and sat next to Justin in the window seat. "You are too beautiful, too good, to be so unhappy."

Justin's throat tightened. Sweet words. Softly, "How do you know?"

"He is a brute, an animal."

Justin raised his brows.

Ethan took his wrist. "You know I generally do not approve of dalliance outside marriage."

Justin nodded since they'd once discussed in detail the kind of unconventional alliances they longed to make. Tenderness. Respect.

"But for you, I will make an exception."

"Ethan..."

Ethan reached out and covered Justin's lips with his finger tips. "I will be discreet." He replaced his fingers with his lips, kissing gently.

...The gentleness was Justin's undoing after his fight with Brian. He inhaled audibly, remembering how he'd lost his virginity to Brian. No kisses. Passion that left him raw, burned out, empty. He longed for his husband, but he would settle, oh, yes, settle on someone else and try to find happiness.

He kissed Ethan back. "Meet me at the summer house in the rose garden."

"Justin!" Passion now in the dark eyes.

Justin drank it in. He was wanted. By God, it felt good, right. He was not a bad man. He had never sought to do Brian injury, but even so--

"He must not know. He is carrying my child and his moods are...unpredictable," Justin whispered. "But you will touch me...kiss me?"

Ethan clasped his hand. "I will touch and kiss you as long as you desire."

The door opened and Brian walked in, unannounced.

Justin dropped Ethan's hand and swallowed, his face very still under Brian's eyes. "Luncheon already, husband?"



Part Fourteen, “Confidences”

Sweat prickled Justin's forehead and he squeezed his eyes shut. He would not think of Brian. He would not...!

"Your technique isn't at fault. This bird has trouble getting off the ground, seemingly," Brian said softly, leaning against the open door of the summer house.

Ethan gasped and pulled away from Justin while Justin covered the erection Ethan had been tending with the flap of his breeches.

"Well, this is farce." Brian's lips quirked, but his sherry eyes were strangely heated. Justin couldn't translate the potent mixture of feeling he thought he glimpsed there. Fury and...amusement?

Outraged, he sprang to his feet, forgetting his open trousers.

"Perhaps if you talk to him, while I see to him, he'll come for us both?"

Ethan rushed past Brian, face like stone.

"Is that a no?" Brian asked, blinking mildly.

"I won't duel with you!" Ethan paused, back tense.

"Of course, you won't," Brian's tone was bored. "I don't duel with children."

Justin had adjusted his clothing. "Perhaps if I were to combine you and Ethan into one form, you might make a truly good husband."

Brian raised a brow. "What a Cubist concoction."

Justin closed his eyes tightly. "So I'm not allowed to seek honest pleasure elsewhere?"

"Was it honest?" Brian studied him. "I thought I was supposed to interrupt in outrage."

Wearily, "Only in my fantasies, Brian."

"'Will you touch me, will you kiss me.' Poor Justin." Brian claimed his wrist.

"What now?"

"What do you think?"

"Now! You can't honestly think I'm in a place where I can just...?!"

"I see no reason why not. You weren't planning on telling me about your adventures in infidelity so I assume you weren't planning on cutting me off."

Justin's jaw ticked.

"And I'm an animal. A brute."

"You like your sex."

"You're damned right." Brian kissed him. It was not a nice kiss, as if the feeling in his eyes came through lips and tongue, but skillful, so skillful--

Whimpered, "...Brian, please don't make me."

"You don't know what it's like to come unwillingly," Brian gritted.

Close together, Justin's hand on Brian's shoulder, holding him back, the fire that heated him, burned him. "And you do?"

"Yes."

Justin swallowed and his arm fell as Brian pulled away.

"Stop. Confide in me!"

Brian's back to him, the moment hung.

"Please."

Brian swung around. "You have never been fourteen years old and drugged to enjoy taking cock. And you have never been sold to a room full of men as a party favor."

Holding tiger-wild eyes and then Brian was gone, his polished boots spitting up gravel as he strode away.

Justin staggered just beyond the folly and vomited in the roses.

The shadows of flowers undulated in the breeze against mellow stone walls. A solid foundation built generations ago by a placid ancestor. At fourteen, Justin had done one of his first water colors here.

He collapsed on the bench.

...

"Teddy..."

"No, your highness. Brian values my discretion. You'll hear no tales of his youth from me!"

Teddy was cutting roses for Brian's rooms, his hands gloved, a straw hat protecting his complexion from the unseasonable warmth. He had learned from Brian the value of looking good and he took pride in having a few enjoyable encounters though he'd given up on Love.

In fact, living in Justin's country seat, he would like a little less Love and a little more sleep! These two...

"But he was a whore, he told me himself!"

"Did he?" Teddy put down the roses in a basket and nodded in satisfaction since he'd picked exactly twelve, so he should be able to create a very symmetrical arrangement. "Do you know why he married you, your highness?"

"I..." Justin swallowed. "I begin to think perhaps because I might offer some protection to our son. Because I am useful and have connections."

"Yes. And also." Teddy took a deep breath, deciding to give Justin a shove in the right direction. "Because he sold himself a week before he married you."

"I don't..." Justin's eyes widened.

"Sold himself. Is that unclear? So he'd have the funds for a venture on New Eagle, the moon they are mining off Orion."

"But he is a successful businessman!"

"His father was entitled to most of his earnings as head of the family."

Justin shook his head. "He's a war hero. A famous flirt."

"And a pragmatist. You don't begin to understand the man you've married."

"I want to." Justin said, very simply. "You know I...want to understand him. Do you have any of this drug used to make a man excited even while unwilling?"

Teddy narrowed his eyes at Brian's confused young husband. "What for?"

And Justin told him.

...

Justin found Brian in his rooms later, a navy silk robe falling off one shoulder enticingly, so that Justin wished he could ask Brian to pose for him. But he was unlikely to meet with cooperation, he knew.

Brian sipped his synthahol and gave Justin a brooding look.

"At last. Let's fuck."

Justin raised a hand.

"Not more conversation," Brian groaned. "I did your Ian a favor, unless he's all talk and no action."

"I know from my reading that your prostate gland is very sensitive at this time."

"Your reading? I thought you knew from the night you serviced me."

Justin's heart leaped. "You know?!"

"Please, you gave me enough artless clues." Brian stood and let the robe drop. His body was golden hued, magnificently erect in the firelight.

"I thought if you knew, you might be upset."

"Why? You were little more to me than a living dildo."

Justin's eyes stung. "I gave you my virginity."

Brian shrugged. "You came." Then his eyes narrowed.

Seeing that look, Justin took a step back. "...Brian?"

Brian took his wrist and tugged him close, regarding him with satisfaction, as if he'd just climaxed. "You will beg me to come, husband!"

Justin paled, then heated as Brian kissed him, warming skin, tongue caressing his own.

"...Beg me," Brian murmured.

Part Fifteen, “Dominance”

Previously:

"I know from my reading that your prostate gland is very sensitive."

"Your reading? I thought you knew from the night you serviced me."

Justin's heart leaped. "You know?!"

"Please, you gave me enough artless clues." Brian stood and let the robe drop. His body was golden hued, magnificently erect in the firelight.

"I thought if you knew, you might be...upset."

"Why? You were little more to me than a living dildo."

Justin's eyes stung. "I gave you my virginity."

Brian shrugged. "You came." Then his eyes narrowed.

Seeing that look, Justin took a step back. "...Brian?"

Brian took his wrist and tugged him close, regarding him with satisfaction, as if he'd just climaxed. "You will beg me to come, husband!"

Justin paled, then heated as Brian kissed him, warming skin, tongue caressing his own.

"The wine colored cravat."

"What does the color matter?" Perplexed, fed up, Justin shoved back his hair.

From the bed where he reclined like an indulgent pasha awaiting his slave boy, Brian said, "Because it's a good color against my skin tone, of course. For an artist, you have precious little sensibility about the importance of appearance."

"I thought you disdained appearances?"

"They serve a purpose." Brian was rubbing the slight bump of his pregnancy but Justin jerked his eyes away from that restless mannerism. He knew very well what bringing it to Brian's attention would garner him. "I am beautiful, am I not?"

Justin throat tightened. "...Yes."

"Are you in love with me, Justin?"

Justin swallowed and continued to sort through cravats, avoiding Brian's curiosity. Am I...? "Well?"

Brian's eyes flashed. "The white and the maroon."

Eyes on the scarves, Justin knelt diffidently on the edge of Brian's damask-draped canopy bed. "What now?" he asked tiredly, shoulders drooping. He'd been confronted by predatorial Brian, but now it was fashion, his Waterloo.

Brian's lips quirked, but his eyes were opaque. "Tie my wrists to the headboard, of course."

Justin's eyes saucered. "What?!"

...

"Just tell me why?"

Brian raised a brow, watching Justin loop the scarf around one wrist and fast it around walnut.

Justin shifted restlessly, conscious of a nude Brian spread beneath him. Heat warmed his cheeks as his gaze couldn't help but linger on maroon ties against the paler skin of Brian's inner wrist.

Impatient, "Finish up, I want my cock."

Testy, "It's my cock."

"Is it?"

"Yes!" Justin shimmied down to Brian's legs and held an arched foot awkwardly.

"Tie it to the canopy."

"It will hang in midair." Justin frowned, watching as Brian looked away. He felt the brush of something. "You're giving me what I think about, what I...?"

"I could make you fuck yourself against my polished boot. I could do it and watch you perform, and we both know it, husband."

Justin's breath left him. "...Why would you want to do that?"

...

At last, he knelt, a penitent between Brian's thighs, his penis liberally anointed, his lips parted.

Brian wouldn't look at him. "Tell me you don't think about this, a hundred times a day, you don't imagine that time at Masquerade."

Justin took the last cravat, white for purity of intention, and used it on himself. He gasped in discomfort, but reached across Brian's body to place the tail of silk in his upturned palm like an offering. "I think of it. I'm sorry if it makes you angry."

Brian's head turned and his eyes widened.

"I can't come unless you tug it free," Justin whispered, holding his gaze. "This is to make me beg, isn't it? Not because to have me inside you, you need to feel like..." His eyes stung. "A whore."

Brian stared, arrested. Seeing.

And as he pushed inside, exquisite, Justin leaned down to brush Brian's lips gently, the first kiss ever exchanged between them while fucking.

...

"Please." Slow strokes, his hair plastered dark against his skull as he held Brian's gaze. Their shadows merged, Brian straining up to get his relief.

"You will come, husband."

"Yes."

Ruthless, "You will come and I'll watch you come and you'll do it in my bed."

"Brian." He rubbed his lips against Brian's again, asking.

"Stop!"

"No, find me pitiful, but I want to kiss you while we--"

"You are. I could summon any boy and it would be the same, just a tool for my pleasure."

Justin closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Brian's, still moving, so that when the scarf was tugged and his painfully swollen prick and balls were freed, he came like water breaking on rock, with one breath, with one word, "Brian!"

...

Brian tossed the scarves into the fire and poured himself another faux brandy as Justin watched from the bed, arms crossed over his knees.

Finally, he returned to the bed, his back to Justin as he sighed, eyes closing. "You can stay if you want."

Justin studied him, left wanting, locked outside as much as he would be if he were back in his rooms. "Why?"

"Convenience, why else?" Brian rumbled.

Hurt.

Justin made a growling sound and got under the covers and put his arm around Brian's waist. Brian stiffened...but declined to shove him away.

...

When Brian slept, Justin left his bed and dressed quietly. He shook out the drug he'd taken from Teddy and remembered the special address he'd been given.

"...A party favor," he murmured, looking at his husband. "No, I don't know what that would be like."

Part Sixteen, “Passion”

Previously:

When Brian slept, Justin left his bed and dressed quietly. He shook out the drug he'd taken from Teddy and remembered the special address he'd been given.

"...A party favor," he murmured, looking at his husband. "No, I don't know what that would be like."

The exclusive gathering was held on a private estate, not far from Justin's country seat. A butler let Justin in past the torch lit double doors into the marble clad entrance. When Justin showed his coding for the evening, green for entertainment, the man disdained to offer him a black domino mask to conceal his identity.

"Through there." He pointed coldly to a side chamber.

Justin swallowed thickly, hesitating. The drug was a burr in his blood, beginning to warm him. He had no idea, no idea at all how he would feel, what he would experience, but he would not remain some untried boy his husband had nothing but contempt for, like a child playing with crayon.

Tonight would change everything. He could feel it.

...

Brian shifted in his sleep, frowning. He needed...

His eyes flared open and he reached down automatically to touch his hard prick.

Justin.

Maybe he'd let his little husband use that not inconsiderable penis to please him again, since his damnable condition meant he liked it up the ass, hard and often. Not that he'd allow it after the thing inside him was expelled, of course.

He licked his lips, thinking he'd make Justin bleat those words, the ones Brian suspected he kept inside the way he'd tried to prevent himself from coming at Brian's touch.

He wanted Justin, raw and exposed; to fuck his mind as much as his body.

He sat up and looked around, glowering. He wanted that mouth he'd trained on his dick. Now. "Where the devil is he...?!"

...

Justin swayed, sweat darkening his hair at his forehead and the back of his neck. The mirrors in the ballroom reflected a hundred images so it was confusing to know what was real, what was illusion, repeated in infinity, a hazy, burning dream.

The grunting sounds of sex.

A boy in a sling, mouth half open, eyelids flickering as three men touched him, one using him.

Justin turned around and pressed his face against the cool glass, heart pounding in his temples, his prick hard, barely concealed by a gold skirt he wore around his slim waist.

He jerked as hands touched him. Strange hands, not Brian's. Lifting his skirt, grasping his ass, squeezing.

This was...how it had been for Brian?

"Fourteen," he mumbled.

The hands were prying him open and then fingers--

Justin started but accepted the pressure because of the throbbing. Needed...

He turned to the man, his hair now dripping with sweat, licking his dry, swollen lips, trying to see through heavy lidded eyes. "Fourteen," he repeated. "I painted landscapes at f-fourteen, but he...he did not paint."

"I'm sure you'll take at least that many," the man said smugly, his face stretching like a Cubist work, fixed pale planes of skin, inhuman, monster, his great dark holes of eyes smiling through the slits of his mask. "Have you ever been in a sling?"

...

He doubled over, holding his stomach, as he was guided in the direction of black hanging leather loops and swaying silver chain. Masked faces watched his guided progress. He shoved off one hand but another replaced it.

His ankle was fasted. He kicked out with the other, wanting...wanting...

Brian?

Brian, make it better. Make the room stop revolving.

Be kind to me, please. I can't bear it.

"...Make me a better artist if I can understand him, don't you know?" he mumbled toward eyes, groping hands, controlling--

"Stop fighting! Can't get you in position if you--!" A startled gurgle.

Justin gasped as scarlet beads struck his bare chest, his pointed nipples.

The man looming over him had a dagger pressed against his throat and a thin line of blood dripped...warm drops hitting Justin's skin as Justin held the wide, staring eyes.

The man was shoved aside and it was his husband, Brian, standing in his place, red filmed blade pressed to the side of his face in a messy smear, sherry eyes burning, damning Justin.

He reached out and grasped Justin by the hair, tugging him free, yanking, pulling him along roughly so that Justin stumbled to his knees.

"...Please," he mumbled, tears pricking his eyes. Please, I just want to understand you. He swayed, off balance, and fell against a hard muscled leg encased in black leather. He reached up, fingers scrabbling, desperate for sanctuary, for tenderness, face pressing against a thigh--

Brian. Brian was his relief.

He was thrusting, his prick sliding wetly against leather, tears running, his nose running, making hurting, sad little sounds as his god watched, unmoved.

"Do you love me, little slut?" Brian whispered for every man in the room to witness.

Rutting, humiliating himself.

Justin babbled, tears flowing, shame, shame making his hide his face, "I love you. You hurt me." He climaxed, humping Brian's leg, arms clasping it, tears leaking like blood of feelings.

...

In the side chamber he had first entered, Justin came back to himself. He was huddled on a bench. He saw Brian's legs, heard him using his communicator curtly to make arrangements for discreet transportation.

Bleak sherry seared him in a glance.

Justin swallowed, dashing moisture from his face with the back of a shaky hand. If he begged Brian to stop--to be nice, for God's sake!--he'd probably kick Justin in the gut.

"I hope you're happy," Brian said.

"Not especially."

"You have inconvenienced me."

Some demon in him made him want to prick Brian. "Oh, no," he said, widening his eyes.

Brian's face was stone as he hefted Justin high against the wall. His eyes were wide, fixed. "You were almost raped."

Panting, Justin wrapped his legs around Brian's hips. "Why do you care?"

Brian kissed him. Hard. Shut up. Be silent.

"W-why do you--" Justin prodded again, pressed against the wall, Brian hard against him so he knew he wouldn't wait, he knew he'd fuck Justin right here, right now.

Brian fisted his hair, dragging his head back. He banged Justin's head against the wall.

"Idealistic fool! Tender, bruised, love me to bruise you, love me to hurt you, to open you, to touch you," Brian rasped.

Anger flamed and Justin slapped back, "You selfish, self absorbed, stupid twit bastard smug full of yourself asshole!"

Brian was panting now. He leaned close, holding Justin's eyes as he sipped from his mouth, gentle as his big frame shuddered.

He breathed against Justin's skin, "...I don't want you hurt."

Justin stared, feeling like the very roof had cracked. As if there should be debris, destruction, all around, because...

Shattered. For a moment, shattered, so he could see in hazel eyes--

"Justin!"

"Yes, yesyesyes, husband!" Brian's penis, prodding, entering, pounding, so he hit his head against the wall a couple of times and then they slid and Brian was hammering into him, Brian on his knees, impaling Justin, eager, slutty, loving Justin.


Part Seventeen, “Family Counseling”

Previously:

"Idealistic fool. Tender, bruised, love me to bruise you, love me to hurt you, to open you, to touch you," Brian rasped.

Anger flamed and Justin retorted, "You selfish, self absorbed, stupid twit bastard smug full of yourself asshole!"

Brian was panting now also. He leaned close, eyes open, holding Justin's as he sipped from his mouth, gentle as his big frame shuddered.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "...I don't want you hurt."

Justin stared, feeling like the very roof had cracked. As if there should be debris, destruction, all around, because...

Shattered. For a moment, shattered, so he could see in hazel eyes--

"Justin!"

"Yes, yesyesyes, husband!" Brian's penis, prodding, entering, pounding, so he hit his head against the wall a couple of times and then they slid and Brian was hammering into him, Brian on his knees, impaling Justin, eager, slutty, loving Justin.

"Family counseling," Brian repeated.

Justin shifted restively in the chair in his private study. Cleared his throat.

And Lady Elizabeth, counselor, tapped her fan against the curled arm of her chair. "Sometimes marriages between two men may be troubled. Despite the ideals of our society, there are lamentable seeds of competition that seem, er, bred in."

"Really?" Brian's eyes widened innocently at the lady.

Justin coughed.

Lady Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "I know your reputation, Sir."

"Lady Elizabeth," Justin interceded, unable to guess what devilry his husband would come up with next and seeking to avoid finding out. "It is true that at times...Brian and I are not in charity."

The woman nodded, sleek blond chignon shining in the soft glow of candle light. Her blue eyes were sharp as her gaze went from Brian's bland face to Justin's poker expression. "It is important to work these things out before the blessed event."

Brian made a scornful sound.

"You do not look forward to your husband giving you a child?" Lady Elizabeth asked him.

Brian scowled.

"Brian is the one in the, er, delicate condition."

Brian's face hardened.

"Oh." The lady blinked. "I would not have thought... Ahem, well, would you care to share your recent discord?"

Brian slumped in his chair. "I do have to go to bed at some point. I need rest in my delicate condition." His look toward his husband was not subtle. Burning. Suggestive. Predatorial.

Justin flushed and adjusted his collar. "It was at breakfast."

"It was before then," Brian contradicted. "When you took up more than your fair share of my very large bed." He looked to Lady Elizabeth, the glint in his eyes suggesting he was diverted. "He seems so small and unassuming, does he not? Very deceptive, my lady."

"You shoved me out of bed!"

"You were snoring. Again."

"I do not--"

"Since you were a virgin before I married you, how do you know?" Brian raised his brows.

"I look forward to an opportunity very soon in seeking another opinion."

Brian's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. "You will not. As long as I am...inhibited, you will suffer the same fate."

Justin's jaw tightened. "I can't wait to divorce you!"

Brian mimicked in a high voice, "I love you, Brian, my husband!"

Justin was on his feet. "Bastard!"

"He said that to me not ten minutes after our moment of 'discord.' Once he'd shattered the coffee pot against the wall, that is."

Justin fell back in his chair, his head in his hands, chest heaving.

Brian put a leg over the side of his arm chair and smirked.

And Lady Elizabeth slumped back in her seat. "I can see we will have to schedule many sessions."

Brian said, "Oh, good."

Justin climbed to his feet and nodded to the counselor politely. "I have matters of business to attend to," he said evenly.

Brian's hand stiffened on his chair.

Justin exited the room, closing the door gently behind him.

...

"I think the raspberry trifle. It might work on the master's uncertain appetite," Teddy suggested to Cook, who looked over the glowing template of recipe suggestions. "Just remember he will not eat any crust."

"Trying to ply Brian with food, Teddy?" Justin asked, having walked down to the kitchens to get himself a snack. His blouse was stained in various colors and there was a paint brush over one ear.

"He is in a foul temper of late, no thanks to you."

"You put a tracer on me--unknown to me, so I was never in any real danger." Justin swallowed at Teddy's wide eyed and fulminating look. "Well, perhaps I brush aside the danger."

"You could have been raped, your highness! I've tended Brian through enough nightmares to have a sense of what that means. But I am relieved you still possess your sense of invincibility. Just take care in future since it is a fragile thing, shattered as easily as the china you and your husband are in the distressing habit of breaking."

"I..." Justin ducked his head. "I have asked him to forgive you."

Teddy grunted, unimpressed. "He will come around, Sir. I am privy to all his favorite tailors and I handle his accounts; he needs me."

Justin's brow furrowed. "Why are you friends?"

Teddy grazed a finger over the pictured dessert. "Brian the delectable. Riveting. So every man and woman in the room catches their breath, wondering what kind of mayhem he will attempt next. But I think we truly became friends when I no longer wanted to be him. In fact...Brian Kinney is the last man I'd choose to be."

"Yes," Justin sighed. "Damn him for a peacock but he's in my blood, Teddy!"

"I've often thought romance was like catching a disease. You can't sleep..." Teddy gave the menu a dour look "...Or eat."

"...You think his lack of appetite is because of me?" Justin whispered, eyes naked.

Seeing that look, Teddy patted Justin's shoulder.

...

"You are moody tonight, little husband."

Justin gave Brian an annoyed look at the name, gripping his wet paint brush in his teeth. It was late, the moon sailing serene over the glassed lid of the lily gazebo, which was in the center of a circular pond, erupting with waterlilies in pinks, reds, yellows...

Brian gazed out at the view. "They look a bit like Monet's dancers," he said, nodding at the flowers.

Justin found his attention reluctantly snared. "Yes." He couldn't help but run his gaze over Brian's attire, a gold silk robe which highlighted his olive skin. His hair was in his eyes, giving him that just out of bed look that made Justin's cock harden.

"You give me a sour glance," Brian said.

Justin shrugged, but felt constrained. Neither of them had spoken of it--the clap of thunder in the antechamber.

...Brian's vulnerability.

"We have dallied."

Brian sought him out in the baths, tempting him to suck and be sucked. Or when Justin was dressing to visit a formal assembly, he took pleasure in taking him quickly, crushing Justin's very correct and stiff clothing.

But never when there was danger they might share a bed for very long, except the morning that Justin had slept over and found himself shoved rudely from Brian's bed. His jaw hardened at the memory.

He had not returned to his husband's bedchamber since.

"I am busy with my muse," he said dismissively.

"I am your muse." Brian grabbed the hand with the raised paint brush.

Justin strained, but he could not break free. "I do not want to give you my attention. I do not want to love you, but to hate you."

"Stop. Or I will shove your oil into the water." Brian raised his brows.

Shocked, Justin let his brush fall. "You would do that to my art!"

Brian shrugged, but he avoided Justin's outraged look. "I am a barbarian."

"You are," Justin agreed pushing Brian closer to the divan, and then he was lying on it, Justin kneeling between his legs.

Brian's eyes were heavy lidded. He reached out almost to touch Justin's face, cooled in moonlight, but let his hand fall before making contact.

Justin peeled back the robe and put his lips to one nipple, hearing Brian's stifled gasp, feeling his hands clench in his hair. "Oh, God, yes!"

"Someone needs to see to you." Justin's hand squeezed Brian's elegant length. Watching the way his chest rose and fell rapidly. "Carrying my child has truly made you a whore." But his words had no sting, were drowsy, absorbed.

"Tongue," Justin whispered, gently raising Brian's thighs, holding his gaze.

Brian's lips parted.

Justin kissed the small dimple, then laved it, probing harder, entering.

"Oh, Christ, your mouth is perfect!"

Justin gave Brian's stiffness a tug. "In you, Brian." I am in you day and night.

Brian's head fell back and Justin plied him hungrily, in and out, palms splaying Brian wider so he could delve in as deep as possible.

Brian lifted himself, straining, perspiration standing on his upper lip and forehead, eyes dilated.

Justin alternated pressure, finger inside as he sipped, exploring. Brian, wanton, twitching at every touch.

Justin reached up and gave his nipple a sharp pinch.

"Uhhhhhh!" Brian's hands were white, clenched as his body spilled, his throat arched, his body bowed.

Gasping, Justin mounted him, placed his penis in the warm pool, rubbing fast, delicious friction! Blue eyes heavy as he worked himself off on Brian's debauched skin.

Brian watched him, dazed but riveted, doing nothing but watching as Justin suddenly stiffened and then his seed spattered Brian.

He wilted against the larger body.

...

After a time, maybe moments, maybe hours, Justin climbed to his feet.

Brian blinked up at him, but his brow furrowed.

"I will paint you like this. Just like this," Justin said, seizing a fresh canvas. "No one but me, Brian..." He reached for a paint brush.

Abruptly, "I want you in my bed tonight."

Absently, "It's nearly dawn."

"After you are done, then."

The brush hesitated. Justin swallowed.

"Justin."

Blue eyes darted to Brian's face, saw he'd lifted one arm and his head rested on it. He was the perfect picture of Eros sated.

Grouchy, heart pounding, "Very well."

Brian closed his eyes, dozing now.

Part Eighteen, “Examination”

Previously:

"I want you in my bed tonight."

Absently, "It's nearly dawn."

"After you are done, then."

The brush hesitated. Justin swallowed.

"Justin."

Blue eyes darted to Brian's face, saw he'd lifted one arm and his head rested on it. He was the perfect picture of Eros sated.

Grouchy, heart pounding, "Very well."

Toutes les passions nous font faire des fautes, l'amour nous en fait faire de plus ridicules--F. de La Rochefoucauld*

"What the devil is all this racket?!" Brian burst into the morning room, his fine fawn colored coat a pleasing contrast to the shade of silvery blue damask the room was papered with.

Ethan's hands froze on the pinafore keys and there was a titter from one of the ladies in the room, and still more whispers as they took in Prince Justin's beautiful, scandalous consort.

"It is music." Ethan raised a brow at Justin and drawled, "Poor you. He is magnificent, but..."

Justin's gaze flew to Brian's reflection in the Baroque mirror. Rare color touched his cheekbones.

"I am very glad you could attend, husband," Justin said.

Eyes watched avidly and there were more stifled giggles.

Brian's jaw was flexing. "I seem to have interrupted," he said pleasantly.

"Not at all," Justin demurred, going to Brian and hesitating, blue eyes clashing uncertainly with hazel before he brushed his lips against Brian's. The touch of those warm, sensual lips sent a feather of heat down Justin's back. He cleared his throat. "Will you join us?"

"Your...friend is correct. I am not musically inclined," Brian said.

Justin took Brian's arm. "Stay," he breathed. "I know this is not your...scene, but the locals enjoy a formal recital."

Brian held his gaze. He gave a slight nod.

...

"You are good at cards, Sir?" a graying gentleman asked Brian. "I found it helped me fill the days when I was full of..." He smiled kindly, raising his eyebrows.

Brian gave him a flat stare.

"I, er, understood you and your husband celebrate the happy two month mark," the genial guest continued, braving Brian's scowl.

"I prefer other kinds of celebrations," Brian said, eyes opaque.

"You will not give thanks?" The man blinked.

"Thanks for wh--?"

Justin tapped Brian's arm. "Refreshment, husband?"

Brian looked at Justin. "Hmmmmm." He accepted the faux sherry with a grimace.

"You are not a religious man, Sir?" the older man continued.

"My personal philosophy runs more to nihilism than faith." Brian bent his head, as if conscious of all the attention focused on him by the good and wholesome neighbors of Justin's country seat.

Justin sipped his sherry. "My husband is a business man, Lord Munroe. In fact, I've been so impressed with his acumen, I have decided to put our estates at his disposal."

"'Our?'" Ethan put in.

Brian looked to Justin, who cleared his throat.

"Pray continue with your recital, Lord Ethan," Justin said. "I am sorry for the interruption."

Ethan glared at Brian whose lips quirked.

...

"You have the headache?" Justin had followed Brian from the room, blue eyes concerned.

"Music is good for dancing," Brian said obliquely.

"You like to dance?" Justin blinked. They were outdoors, on the veranda draped with roses in yellows, pinks, purples and vivid pinks. The scent was the spicy fragrance of cinnamon and tea as petals fell to the painted porch.

Brian suddenly pulled Justin close, chest to chest, and took his hand, swaying slightly.

Justin swallowed tightly. "This...is not dancing."

"Is it not? I think it serves to true purpose of dancing." Brian's lips grazed Justin's as Justin's eyelashes fell.

"Brian!" Justin pressed a hot little kiss to the corner of his husband's mouth. "I cannot be close to you and remain unmoved."

Brian pulled away, studying Justin as they danced softly, moving from one part of the porch to the other.

Justin's groin was full and hard as it rubbed against an answering hardness. His gaze went from Brian's curious hazel eyes to his long upper lip. He lifted up and pressed another kiss on his husband's mouth, opening his lips slightly.

"What are you celebrating?" Brian asked mildly, though his chest was moving rapidly as they teased with the brush of want under proper clothing.

"Your examination."

"Oh." Brian's expression darkened.

"You have sheltered our Augustus for two months." Justin's hand timidly touched the hardened area where Brian's condition could be felt. "Will you let me attend? I want to see him with you."

Brian looked away.

"...And I want to reward you."

Brian's gaze returned to Justin's earnest face. "Reward me? By writing me a sonnet, no doubt."

Amusement lit Justin's eyes as they continued to dance. "I thought of something more to your taste."

...

Justin tied a blue bow on Brian's upturned wrist. He was nude, sedated, lying on the table where the examination would shortly begin. His gaze was on Justin's expressive face.

Justin brushed fingers over Brian's ankle, cuffed, but covered also with one of Justin's whimsical bows.

The technician entered and smiled at Brian as he covered his hands in plastic gloves. "How are you today, Brian?"

"How do you think?" Brian rasped, rather grumpy. His lips parted as deft fingers spread lubricant inside him before gently inserting a sensor tentacle. "Uhhhhh."

"Ah ah, Brian, we can't let you enjoy examination too much," the man scolded. "You're very sensitive." He pulled a white shield out of a drawer, lifting Brian's sex carefully and snapping it on so that his cock and balls were separated, impeding Brian from climax.

Brian grimaced.

"Deep breath now..." Another wand was lifted, this one with a needle at one end.

As Brian and Justin watched, it was inserted into the side Brian's abdomen, where the slight swell of his pregnancy brimmed. A single droplet of blood ran down his belly.

Seeing it, Justin bent close and sipped it with parted lips.

"You are a devoted husband," the technician noted.

"Very devoted," Brian said, breathing hard. The tentacle club inside him had expanded, rubbing pleasurably...and also sending readings to the ceiling above where colors coalesced.

"...Oh, God." Justin's eyes filled as he saw for the first time the curled form of their child. "I didn't think." He looked at Brian, seeing similar bewilderment. "It was just a nice idea, having a child. I didn't think I'd feel..."

Brian stared mutely at the reflection of the boy child. His lips parted.

"How are you feeling, Brian?" the technician asked. "Have you been following the recommended diet?"

Brian's eyes filled with amusement.

Justin said, "Teddy makes sure his, er, nutritional supplements are in his food."

"Your son Augustus is doing very well," the man said. He looked to Justin. "Are you enjoying the pregnancy?"

Brian said, "No!"

Justin said, "Yes."

The man gently disengaged the first tentacle, wiping away the tiny puncture with quick heal. Brian gasped as he pulled out the club, sweat on his upper lip, his long cock trembling against his stomach.

"I'll leave you two alone," he said, winking. "Brian, remember to unlock the cuffs, the panel is at your fingertips."

Brian grunted, but remained on the chair, splayed out, heavy eyes riveted with meaning on Justin.

Justin swallowed thickly. "Brian, I know you never wanted... Our son is beautiful and safe. I thank you. I...gave a great deal of thought to what to gift you. Most husbands and wives mark this occasion with jewels or--" Justin shrugged. "I brought you Sven."

Brian's eyes widened as a tall Nordic god walked into the examination chamber. The man was nude, muscled, golden tanned...and prominently and beautifully erect. He reached out and stroked Brian's thigh, smiling slightly.

Brian's lips parted and Justin watched his face. "You don't have to accept, of course, but I know how, um, sensitive you are. How much you enjoy a certain experience at this time."

Brian's eyes took in the tip of Sven's cock, which was studded with round balls in various sizes, like a cupcake covered with candies. He sat up a little, staring. "Justin...! Fuck!"

"It's supposed to feel--" Justin was blushing. "Unbelievable. Will you allow me to treat you...?"

Brian was panting. He cocked his head, considering. His hips lifted slightly.

Reading his face, Sven palmed himself and climbed on the chair, between Brian's spread legs.

"...May I stay?" Justin whispered, eyes vulnerable, touching Brian's wrist.

Brian's fingers tangled with Justin's. "Suck..."

Hotter color bloomed in Justin's cheeks. His eyes were heavy lidded as he watched Sven penetrate Brian, heard Brian's husky moan.

"My beautiful slutty husband," Justin whispered as he grazed his lips against the long stalk of Brian's confined sex.

"Oh, Christ! Oh, fuck!" Brian's toes curled as Sven's hips undulated, slow, each thrust grazing his prostate skillfully so the uneven studs sent sensations sparkling through his body like sparks rising from a fire.

His neck arched, he pushed up, taking as much as he could as Justin sucked and licked him and his body was stuffed full of the cock he craved.

"Justin, I need to come--!" he whispered for Justin's ears alone. "Justin!"

Justin didn't stop laving Brian as his fingers unsnapped the shield, the warm brush of tongue, exploring, tasting his slit--

He climaxed, shouting as his body took both, enjoyed both, the wave of heat so intense he lay dazed, panting, as Sven pulled out, held his cock, and spattered his come over Brian's dick.

Justin immediately began licking, and Brian shouted again, too sensitive, too much--

He strained in his bonds as Sven's mouth joined Justin's, both of them licking and sucking him, so he felt like a god eaten by two of his attendants. He struck the keys and freed his wrists...tangling his hands deep in the silken hair of the two men sucking him off.


*All the passions make us commit faults; love makes us commit the most ridiculous ones.

Part Nineteen, “Conflagration”

Previously:

"My beautiful slutty husband," Justin whispered as he grazed his lips against the long stalk of Brian's confined sex.

"Oh, Christ! Oh, fuck!" Brian's toes curled as Sven's hips undulated, slow, each thrust grazing his prostate skillfully so the uneven studs sent sensations sparkling through his body like sparks rising from a fire.

His neck arched, he pushed up, taking as much as he could as Justin sucked and licked him and his body was stuffed full of the cock he craved.

"Justin, I need to come--!" he whispered for Justin's ears alone. "Justin!"

Justin didn't stop laving Brian as his fingers unsnapped the shield, the warm brush of tongue, exploring, tasting his slit--

He climaxed, shouting as his body took both, enjoyed both, the wave of heat so intense he lay dazed, panting, as Sven pulled out, held his cock, and spattered his come over Brian's dick.

Justin immediately began licking, and Brian shouted again, too sensitive, too much--

He strained in his bonds as Sven's mouth joined Justin's, both of them licking and sucking him, so he felt like a god eaten by two of his attendants. He struck the keys and freed his wrists...tangling his hands deep in the silken hair of the two men sucking him off.

Brian bashed into the door and blinked at it. Had it shifted since the last time he'd been forced to visit his little husband? No, upon reflection, he thought it had always been right...right there.

He looked down at the forbidden brandy bottle grasped in one hand. Real brandy.

Bad for the baby, bad for--

Of course, they could fix any problems easy enough but he was... Teddy would disapprove. Little husband would disapprove.

Bad father. Bad Brian. Well, what did you fucking expect? He was supposed to bond with the thing, the little earth worm, parasite, thing inside him.

Terrifyingly alien.

What did you do with a baby, for God's sake?!

He didn't WANT it. Floating, perfect, like a fucking perfect angel. Oh, Christ...

He shoved the door and when it didn't give, he stared at it, depressed, before he remembered he should use the door knob.

As he opened it, his robe fell free, displaying his body. He rather thought Justin would appreciate that. He'd take care of Brian, take care of what needed seeing to, Brian thought rather wistfully.

But instead of Justin, Brian found his servants.

What the fuck? Had Justin never heard of droids? Probably the little puritan wanted to provide employment. Lord bountiful.

Brian laughed, thinking of Justin's ass. Lord Bountiful. Haha--

"...Can't imagine the likes of him letting himself be trussed up like that!" Brian heard the male voice of one servant comment. It seemed to be coming from Justin's private dressing room, which Brian was rather fond of. He'd bent over his royal highness there a time or to and--

"He looks like he enjoyed himself. Look at his--!" Giggling and then a rustling sound and more laughter.

Brian blinked. "Blast you, Justin, it won't suck itself," he muttered, making a slightly crooked path to the dressing room.

The girl who had been dusting froze, looking at Brian. "Oh," she said.

At first he thought it was his state of undress--these country provincials acted like they had never seen a cock before--but it was...was not.

More giggling.

Brian threw the bottle, striking the half-finished mural. "Get out!"

...

He put his cigarette against the face of the man bound on a medical chair. Bound and fucked, sucked off.

It never happened. I would never allow that.

Augustus... Gus, first he'd seen him and then--

Somehow Justin had been closer and he'd allowed... NO!

But it was here, all here, the floating child, the tear on his cheek he didn't remember spilling--THAT was surely artistic license--and...the way he'd enjoyed being fucked. Justin had tricked him into liking it, persuaded him, so sweet. Please let me stay, Brian.

A flare and Brian fell back on his ass.

The brandy...the cigarette...

Justin's mural, roaring flame.

...

"Did you try the north wing?" Justin yelled at Teddy, water soaked scarf wrapped around his lower face.

Teddy shook his head, eyes wild. "He's not there, your hi--" He choked, rubbing his throat, gasping.

"Get OUT, Teddy!" Justin urged.

"I have to find him!" Teddy shook his head, stubborn to the last. "I can't believe how quickly this place is burning despite the sprinkler system!"

Justin looked around the ancestral family home. His childhood home. Every part of it, he'd touched, tumbled over, loved.

In flames. Gutted. All the modern improvements notwithstanding, the wood was old, dry as tinder--

"Let's try my rooms!" Justin directed.

...

Brian shoved aside the oxygen mask, rejecting Teddy's help. He sat up, coughing, coughing-- Oh, Christ!

He had a greatcoat spread over him and his body stung and his hair was-- Shit! He'd lost some of it! What must he look like??

And then he saw the slender figure at the gazebo door, staring at the country seat, a bonfire. Servants, firemen running, shouting.

What made him get up and go to Justin, he didn't know, but he knew what to expect. Oh, yes. Just like the rest, at last.

"S-still love me, little husband?" he whispered in Justin's ear.

Blackened face, shock of white-blond hair, staring eyes, tear tracks. Justin confronted him, face a mask.

His palm swung and he struck, hitting Brian so Brian fell against the column.

Sick, Brian smiled. "Finally went too far. You don't anymore, do you?" Smiling, holding Justin's stare, his shock, his spilling grief.

"...No," Justin rasped in a dead voice.

He turned away.

Part Twenty, “Aftermath”

Previously:

And then Brian saw the slender figure at the gazebo door, staring at the country seat, a bonfire. Servants, firemen running, shouting.

What made him get up and go to Justin, he didn't know, but he knew what to expect. Oh, yes. Just like the rest, at last.

"S-still love me, little husband?" he whispered in Justin's ear.

Blackened face, shock of white-blond hair, staring eyes, tear tracks. Justin confronted him, face a mask.

His palm swung and he struck, hitting Brian so Brian fell against the column.

Sick, Brian smiled. "Finally went too far. You don't anymore, do you?" Smiling, holding Justin's stare, his shock, his spilling grief.

"...No," Justin rasped in a dead voice.

He turned away.

"Teddy!" Justin gave the servant a surprised glance and then careless of their difference of social stations, embraced him. "It is so good to see you." Justin's voice was husky.

"And you, your highness," Teddy bowed formally. He tugged his long white gloves, giving an awkward half shrug. "No one here will acknowledge me, a mere servant."

"You are not mere and I'm sorry people don't see that," Justin said, brow crinkling with concern. He cleared his throat. "I wonder if you can tell me... How is--"

...

"...My little husband?"

"I don't think I'd call him that if you wish to speak with him tonight, Brian," Teddy advised, spilling punch from an elegant silver server into a crystal glass.

"Who said I...?"

Teddy glanced at Brian under his brows. "Of course, you make a habit of frequenting stuffy assemblies. How remiss of me to forget."

"Your sarcasm tempts me to find you a new situation."

"Please, you'd be lost without me! Oh, and your hair looks fine."

Brian was staring at his reflection. "No...burned parts."

Teddy looked away. "No, your hair has...recovered nicely."

"Good," Brian said, nodding firmly. "That is good." But he continued to look in the mirror.

"I'm sure you are still the fairest of them all," Teddy drawled.

"Justin... My husband once found me--"

"I'm also sure that hasn't changed." Teddy's voice softened. "It was an accident, Brian. A stupid, careless--"

"Don't be tedious, Teddy. I'm fully aware of what it was." Brian frowned, but there was color high in his cheeks. "And your precious heir is fine!"

"Mine?" Teddy laughed.

...

Justin stroked his hands down his legs, clearing his throat, pacing the little alcove where he had set this very intimate meeting.

Brandon was reading the legal document, fair head bent, and Justin took this moment to study him. He had golden hair, slightly loose in its fastening, which gave him the kind of wanton look that reminded Justin of--

Brian...

No! He had made a vow to himself and he would keep it. It was best...best for both of them that they part. And this, this was what Justin had decided he needed, like scrubbing this...interlude of his life with bleach.

I will master this.

"A house in town, an allowance, a pair of horses and I'd also like a canary. A real one from old Terra," Brandon said, chewing his magnetic pen. "I once had one that was hand raised by Nuns. He had the sweetest voice."

Justin swallowed. "Very well," he rasped. "I will see to it if you can give me their direction."

Brandon signed with flourish and then smiled, his eyes bright blue. Justin told himself he couldn't wait to get the beautiful Brandon out of his clothes and paint those blue eyes, that muscled body, and his ass--

He was an exquisite man, the perfect kept man, Justin had been assured by Brandon's previous protector.

Brandon stood, reaching out to shake Justin's damp palm firmly.

"...Easy," he whispered, lips ghosting across Justin's cheek to his neck, so that Justin squeezed his eyes shut and pictured someone else, his head falling back in surrender. "I am now your contracted mistress for six months time, your highness."

Justin gave a soft laugh, opening his eyes and meeting Brandon's kindness as he stroked Justin's hair. "If only I knew what to do with one!"

Brandon fell to his knees and undid Justin's breeches as Justin stared, wide eyed. He nuzzled Justin lovingly, rubbing his face gently--

"So I will teach you, appreciate you."

"Oh, Christ!" So long it had been since he'd had relief. The touch of lips on his body, igniting him like parchment and fire.

Fire...ash.

Justin inhaled sharply, almost a sob, as Brandon took him in his warm, comforting mouth.

"Heal me," Justin asked brokenly, tears stinging. "Will you...?"

"Yes, I will." Brandon's voice was certain. His gaze was steady, looking up at Justin with tenderness. "Starting now--"

Justin's fingers dug into Brandon's skull and his head fell back.

He gave himself.

...

Brian put down his glass of punch and intercepted a flushed Justin, who was leaving an antechamber. He was not the only one, as Ethan also was moving through dancers, glaring at Brian.

"May I have this dance?" Brian bowed, a tall gallant figure, before Justin.

Justin's face hardened and he turned aside.

Brian shifted, holding his gaze. "You danced twice with Brandon."

Justin's brows lifted coolly. "He is a good dancer."

"His cock is not as large as mine."

"What...?! Brian, there is more to a man than his--"

"Liar, you like a nice cock, the better the ride, the more it touches you." Brian's low voice made Justin's face darken.

"Don't be crude," he muttered.

He sent a resentful glare of blue at his elegant husband, dressed in charcoal, which became him. His brown hair was tumbled around his face, silky strands that Justin had twisted in his fingers while he rode that wanton brown body.

"We are so different."

"We are more alike than you will admit." Brian strolled beside his husband, holding his gaze as he adjusted his gloves. He cleared his throat. "You are...well?"

"I am." Justin's look was sober. "And you?"

"You would know the state of my health," Brian said, jaw hardening slightly. He hated the indignity of the necessary examinations, every two days now. "And...you are happy in your new accommodation."

"Happy...?" Justin sighed. "It is a humble cottage on my estate, but it suits my needs."

"Justin, I--" Brian swallowed.

"Yes?" Justin's lips parted.

"I am...glad you are well." Brian bowed again. "Would you...? May I ask you to accept--"

Justin's eyes widened as Brian picked up a small nosegay of pink Lily of the Valley which had been resting on a side table. They were still covered with dew, wrapped in pale gauze, fragrant like a dizzy dream.

"This is unlike you!" The offering did not tempt him, but distressed him, though Justin had no idea why.

Brian gave him a grave look. "Justin, I want to tell you that I'm--"

"There you are!" Ethan said triumphantly, putting an arm through Justin's. "I claim the next dance if you are finished with your arrangements with Brandon."

Brian blinked. "Brandon?"

"It is nothing," Justin said, gaze falling under Brian's.

"It is hardly nothing!" Ethan smiled at Brian. "Justin has taken a lover. Flowers, Justin?"

Justin watched as Ethan took the bouquet, smelling it.

Brian's jaw ticked. "You seem remarkably serene about Justin sharing himself."

"Why not?" Ethan held Brian's gaze. "Brandon is of the lower classes. He cannot truly endanger the intimacies I share with Justin." He moved closer to Brian and whispered, "Once a whore, always a whore."

Justin looked at Brian, taking in the brand of color high on his cheeks.

"Ethan..." he said.

Ethan dropped the bouquet to the parquet floor. "A little too common a scent, don't you think? Come, dance with me."

...

Justin looked over his shoulder at Brian and the abandoned bouquet as Ethan led him away.

Brian stared back.

...

The next morning, Justin visited the remains of his country seat. It was the day of justice, when villagers and landowners in the common worked out any disputes, so he had to make an appearance.

His gaze did not lift to the tall black sentinels of the fireplace chimneys or the broken diamond-paned windows.

Instead, he touched the scorched branches of a rose topiary, remembering Brian's reckless smile. Remembering the offering the night before.

The little nosegay unsettled him.

He walked the garden path, his back to the house.

...

"Your highness! Thank God, I knew I'd find you here!"

Justin took in Teddy's distress, his flushed, perspiring face.

"Is it the baby?" he asked, gripping Teddy's hand and remembering that night they'd looked for Brian together, and found him, thank God!

"No...I mean, I don't know! He's not himself, you know that?"

"No, I do not," Justin said, chin rising.

"Justin, please, only you may talk him out of this crazed idea. It is folly!"

"What?" Justin let himself be dragged towards Teddy's carriage. "Teddy, I have no influence over my husband as he proved again...and again!"

Teddy shoved Justin into the passenger seat. "He's bleeding, but he won't speak of it. Will you not...? He won't speak of it, Justin." Teddy whispered as the carriage took off, "Have pity on him."

...

Justin never visited the docks. He knew what went on here, of course; his father had brought him once in an attempt to make a man of him and not a pansy artist.

"This place...!" Justin breathed. He closed his eyes.

"Yes." Teddy's face was grim. "I was branded in a place like this, for theft."

Justin stared at Teddy, a grim stranger.

"I didn't know."

"Brian tended me, and now I work for him," Teddy outlined, very simply. "Justin, he told the insurance agents exactly who was responsible for the fire!"

Justin shook his head. "No!"

Teddy took his arm, guiding him as they sprinted past empty stocks, past the sawdust left on wooden floorboards to catch the blood.

A crack of leather striking bare flesh. A low groan of agony.

No! Brian!

Justin stared at Brian, leaning over the stock, beautiful back crisscrossed, marked. "But he never said a word, never said he was s-sorry!"

"Not his way," Teddy muttered. "For the love of God, he didn't tell them he carries your child!"

Justin stepped forward, into the very path of the whip held by the black robed enforcer. He raised a hand. "Stop! This man... This man is pregnant."

The enforcer shifted his feet. "I wasn't told, your highness. Thirty lashes."

Justin scanned the crowd, saw avid eyes which made his gaze flinch away. "How many...?"

"Given him eighteen now. Under law, he can take two more."

Justin turned to look at Brian, at the open, weeping wounds on his back. His eyes stung and pain gripped his chest, so he thought he couldn't breath, speak-- Brian. This is not what I wanted.

Brian turned his head, hair matted to his forehead, eyes fevered by pain.

Justin held his gaze.

"Two more," he directed in a whisper, knowing his husband's dignity, his pride.

When the horsewhip fell, Justin watched, a single tear standing cold on his cheek.

Brian grunted, pain living under the sound.

He is bleeding. But he won't speak of it.

When it was done, and they cut Brian's bonds, Justin went to him, staring at the broad back, rivulets of pink.

Brian collapsed, panting, his hands scrabbling against the wooden stock as if to raise himself.

Justin fell to his knees in the sawdust and rested his forehead against his husband, his cheek smeared with Brian's blood.

Part Twenty-One, “Two Treatises on Love”

Previously:

Justin stepped forward, into the very path of the whip held by the black robed enforcer. He raised a hand. "Stop! This man... This man is pregnant."

The enforcer shifted his feet. "I wasn't told, your highness. Thirty lashes."

Justin scanned the crowd, saw avid eyes which made his gaze flinch away. "How many...?"

"Given him eighteen now. Under law, he can take two more."

Justin turned to look at Brian, at the open, weeping wounds on his back. His eyes stung and pain gripped his chest, so he thought he couldn't breath, speak-- Brian. This is not what I wanted.

Brian turned his head, hair matted to his forehead, eyes fevered by pain.

Justin held his gaze.

"Two more," he directed in a whisper, knowing his husband's dignity, his pride.

When the horsewhip fell, Justin watched, a single tear standing cold on his cheek.

Brian grunted, pain living under the sound.

He is bleeding. But he won't speak of it.

When it was done, and they cut Brian's bonds, Justin went to him, staring at the broad back, rivulets of pink.

Brian collapsed, panting, his hands scrabbling against the wooden stock as if to raise himself.

Justin fell to his knees in the sawdust and rested his forehead against his husband, his cheek smeared with Brian's blood.

"Why do you do these things?" he whispered.

Brian's body stiffened and Justin knew he'd used the wrong turn of phrase to turn his husband up sweet. Damnation! Whatever that was!

"Get the fuck away from me," Brian growled. "Why are you here?"

"Teddy--"

"Will be looking for a new situation!" Hazel eyes burned Teddy who swallowed, but knelt beside Justin nevertheless.

"All talk," he jested weakly.

Brian raised a brow, his dark hair matted to his skull with sweat, and his expression, his words, almost distracted from the blood dripping onto the sawdust.

Almost.

Justin squeezed his eyes shut.

"Please allow me to--"

"Your brat is fine," Brian cut him off.

Teddy carefully helped Brian to stand, somehow making it seem as if Brian didn't need to lean on him. Truly he was a gifted valet, Justin thought.

He stared up at Brian's face, hands fisting. "You have a positive talent for making me feel impotent."

"I think we know that is false," Brian drawled and for a moment Justin warmed in memory. Tangled together on Brian's bed, gasping, working together, nothing bloody mattered but they come, come now, come together--

He licked his lips. "My sin."

He didn't see Brandon until an arm fell on his shoulder, squeezing in comfort. He looked at his mistress, seeing concern in the warm blue gaze but instinctively knew this was exactly the wrong time for Brandon to make an appearance.

"Oh, dear," Teddy muttered, apparently in agreement.

"Brian, are you...well?" Brandon asked, gaze moving away from the bloody meat of Brian's back.

"Splendid!" Brian's arms flung wide and he staggered.

"Snuff," Teddy whispered in Justin's direction.

Snuff, the gentleman's drug.

Brandon caught Brian when he almost fell. "Brian, let me help you."

Brian shoved him away, fist cocked. He panted, "Justin's new whore! Have you fucked his ass yet? Has he tangled his hands in your hair and begged you to go deeper, harder, vowing you're the only one--"

"Brian, don't be this wa--!" A bloody hand struck Justin. He spun, falling-- hitting the churned up sawdust.

Brian standing over him, swaying slightly, hair in his wild blank eyes. "I wish you were dead. If you were dead, you'd leave me alone!"

Justin heard a small hiccup of sound, like a child's broken cry. Had it come from him? He blinked, trying to breathe. Had he made...that sound?

Brandon put an arm around him, pulling him close as Justin rubbed the forming bruise on his shoulder, staring after his husband, lurching through the crowd, an unhappy but faithful Teddy the only one who dared to get close to the beast Justin had married.

Justin stared until Brian had disappeared, scalding tears running freely down his face. He fisted Brandon's lawn shirt, burying his face against him.

...

"Don't hurt," Brandon whispered, patting his back, still awkward since they were so new to being lovers.

They were in Justin's simple cottage, sitting on the bed which was covered with a patchwork quilt Justin had stitched with his own hands, liking to work with bright, clashing colors. Liking to experiment.

Justin touched it dully, remembering who he'd been before Brian had crushed him. Lately all his art was sullen flames and ash.

"It might be the child. It complicates things," Brandon continued. "Perhaps you should..."

Justin squeezed his eyes shut. "I feel like he killed me." He opened his eyes to look at Brandon.

"You're in love."

"I don't like it," Justin grumped. "It's horrible. Why would anyone want to be in love?"

Brandon smiled. "I have no idea. Damned inconvenient. But he's carrying your child so you can't quite be rid of him."

"He's a sliver under my skin," Justin said darkly. "But maybe it is the baby magnifying things. I just..." He sighed, rolling over, and holding Brandon's kind, warm gaze. Soothed. "I did everything I was supposed to, married, arranged for an heir, but now I'm being punished for it."

"I'm sure Brian feels the same way." Amusement lurked in Brandon's eyes.

Justin gave a surprised burst of laughter, the first time he had laughed since Brian burned his fucking house down. "I like you," he told Brandon. "Did you find your canary?"

"Yes, thank you. He is a wonderful singer," Brandon said. "While making myself presentable and appealing for my protector, he always puts me in the right frame of mind to be your lover."

"Why not bring him here? I'd enjoy hearing his song," Justin suggested, appreciative of Brandon's consideration. Why had he thought such arrangements were a bad thing? Marriage was hell!

Brandon blinked, but there was calculation in his eyes. "Sharing a pet."

Justin swallowed. "...Yes."

"Well, your cottage garden needs work..." Brandon was an avid gardener, and belonged to the local orchid and topiary societies.

A shy smile bloomed on Justin's face. "We shall rusticate." His stroking hand in Brandon's long blond hair, free of its fastening, paused. "Beautiful one."

Brandon kissed his hand. "Perhaps we should make a baby. It might help you put things in perspective."

Justin's jaw dropped.

...

The brandy Brian had filched hit the damask wallpaper.

"N-not the real stuff," Brian growled, glaring at Teddy who sighed and ordered the cleaning bot to come and deal with the glittering maple stained shards.

"No, it's not. I'll go see to dinner, shall I?" He left Brian's library, dark with the curtains drawn since Brian flinched from the light.

"Let's pretend happy domestication, by all means!"

"You always say that appearances are all that matters," Teddy said, at the end of patience. Perhaps he would quit and leave this pathetic wreck to himself! "And you've ruined any chance you had with Justin, hurt him time and time again! I just hope to God you stay away from him now."

Brian's hands were trembling as he brushed his desk, abstracted, head down.

Teddy made an annoyed sound under his breath. Had Brian even heard him? He was in the hallway when he caught Brian's whisper:

"Christ, I love him."

His throat tightened with pity but he raised his chin.

His master would need to eat, even if his life was broken.

Part Twenty-Two, “Inconvenient Truth”

Previously:

The brandy Brian had filched hit the damask wallpaper.

"N-not the real stuff," Brian growled, glaring at Teddy who sighed and ordered the cleaning bot to come and deal with the glittering maple stained shards.

"No, it's not. I'll go see to dinner, shall I?" He left Brian's library, dark with the curtains drawn since Brian flinched from the light.

"Let's pretend happy domestication, by all means!"

Teddy was in the hallway when he caught Brian's whisper:

"Christ, I love him."

His throat tightened with pity but he raised his chin.

His master would need to eat, even if his life was broken.

"I told you it was too soon, my lord Ethan!" Brandon growled. He was digging out a rose from the mint patch. He'd never of found it except it had sent out a single red bloom, as if firing a rescue flare in scarlet petals.

"If Justin has another child he'll soon forget this obsession with that commoner whore," Ethan disagreed. "Do you know Kinney has invested heavily in planets which seek independence from the Crown? As for Prince Justin and I, we share the same background. Sensitive, aristocratic, artistic. If his mother didn't have issue with the royal line marrying into itself, he would have been my logical choice of spouse." Ethan glared at Brandon. "I want him, and I'll do whatever it takes!"

Brandon wiped sweat from his brow, not missing Ethan's distaste for his earthy hobby. Well, tough shit. The puffed up rooster had demanded to meet with Brandon this afternoon since Justin was off to Town and another boring assembly. It was good weather for gardening and Brandon wasn't going to be cooped up inside.

"So Kinney's a Democrat and not a Royalist. Interesting but not relevant to our cause. As for the prince, he...was bemused by my offer. I told you it was too soon to push that agenda."

"He has not spoken of it?"

Brandon's eyelashes fell, shielding his gaze. "He is very contained."

Ethan paced. "Perhaps I must take more drastic measures in dealing with that brute Kinney. I managed to get the magistrate to give him a whipping for admitting he caused the fire. I had hoped he'd lose the babe."

Brandon dropped his trowel. "That's despicable!"

"Please, it's just a cocktail of genes."

"Justin would have held Brian and himself responsible..." Brandon tapped his lip in staccato irritation. "That would have wounded him the rest of his life."

"He would have had me."

"Oh, no, my Lord, not yet. And forgive me, but no lover is compensation for losing a child. Not that I'd know, but it has been my observation." Brandon shook his head. "The Prince is hurting and he needs time." Brandon pointed to the rose, now situated in free soil, watered in a deep well in a circle around the pointy stalk. "And I am good at finding lost things and helping them bloom."

"We made a bargain!" Ethan snatched at Brandon's tanned and muscular arm. "I paid you a fortune!"

"And I am altering it." Brandon shook him off, much like a dog who had gone swimming but now wished to be dry again. "It is no hardship to take Justin as a lover or to carry a baby for a few months. I rather like the idea of sharing gardening tips with a child and I have no family," Brandon mused. "Do what you want to Kinney, kill him or dishonor him, or sell him into bloody slavery, but after he's delivered his brat. And leave Justin alone to heal. I am his protector now."

...

Justin closed the double doors behind him, taking a deep breath before facing his husband, immaculate in umber silk, his ivory cravat carefully disarrayed to avoid the appearance of dandyism.

Brian's large hazel eyes were fixed on his face. His lips parted.

"I asked you for a moment of privacy so I could..." Justin ran a restive hand through his fair hair, caught in a neat bow at the back of his neck. He was wearing sky blue, which set off his slim figure. "You are well?"

Brian left his chair, clearing his throat and pacing restively. At the cold fireplace, he leaned forward, using the poker to play with dead ash. "What is it you want of me?"

"...Brian, why?! Why did you tell the magistrate you had caused the fire?"

Brian's gaze didn't leave the fireplace. He shrugged. "It was true."

"I would have paid the fines."

"A fortune. More even than our betrothal price."

Justin closed his eyes. "I would have paid it gladly to never see your back... Christ! Rivulets of pink. Your bloodshot eyes. The way you dared me to give you comfort."

Brian turned and a half smile pulled his lips.

"And you would have spat in my face had I tried." A tiny ember of answering amusement lit Justin's eyes shyly.

Brian stared a moment, expression arrested, and then he shoved away from the hearth and strode to Justin's side. He looked down at his face, eyes moving over his lips, the sudden high color in his cheeks... Justin wilted infinitesimally closer...

Brian lifted him high, devouring his mouth as Justin's legs wrapped around his hips. "You didn't come here to talk about my whipping, little liar!"

"No, I..." Justin's hands balled against Brian's fine coat and then his fingers dug in, desperate. He left quick burning kisses on Brian's chin and face. "Have me. Fuck me!" he whispered in Brian's ear, his tone half ashamed.

...

Late afternoon light slanted in and warmed two bodies on a damask Queen Anne's chair. Brian was seated, his coat discarded, his shirt opened so Justin could caress his chest.

Justin was impaled on him, still wearing his own shirt, but pants and coat in a hasty pile on the floor. Sweat darkened his hairline. He grabbed Brian's cravat and tugged at it, the cloth a loose rope around the larger man's neck.

"Don't move," Brian growled softly.

Justin gave a little laugh. "How can I not? Oh! Oh, Brian--"

Brian watched his face, pleasure stretched on skin, sweating on skin. He reached up and they kissed, Justin whimpering, then biting him, imperious.

Brian gave a dark laugh, hands holding Justin's hips firmly, controlling their action.

"I didn't think that you wanted me," Justin said.

Brian frowned. "What nonsense is...?" He studied Justin and saw regret for spilling the admission. In a low tone, "You are very passionate." He cupped Justin's cheek, seeing tears that didn't spill, seeing the need of a passionate person to believe they are wanted.

Justin squeezed his eyes shut, as if shutting out something unbearable, falling, taking, absorbing the slow impact as Brian thrust up in him. Brian's hand now on his ass, enjoying its resilience as he fucked.

Against Justin's lips, Brian's thready confession, "I love you."

Justin's eyes flared wide. Shattered by Brian's lightning bolt.

Pained, furious, Justin slapped, "Do not ever say that to me again!"

Brian swallowed, looking away.

Justin tugged on the cravat. "You've doubtless taken some drug or found the brandy!"

Brian's gaze snapped back to Justin's. "It is the brandy."

Part Twenty-Three, “Adrift”

Previously:

Against Justin's lips, Brian confessed, "I love you."

Justin's eyes flared wide. Shattered by Brian's lightning bolt.

Pained, furious, Justin slapped, "Do not ever say that to me again!"

Brian swallowed, looking away.

Justin tugged on the cravat. "You've doubtless taken some drug or found the brandy!"

Brian's gaze snapped back to Justin's. "It is the brandy."

"Well, how did it go?" Teddy hovered around Brian, taking his coat. Brian flung off his cravat, which was wrinkly enough Teddy had hopes that maybe his master had encountered his husband.

"I told him...those words."

"Yes...?" Teddy nodded, face lit up. If ever two people loved each oth--

"...He told me to never say it again."

Teddy still nodding, smiling, waiting for Brian to--

"What?"

Brian was undoing his shirt. Mother of pearl buttons suddenly scattered explosively. "It appears you were wrong, he didn't want to hear it," Brian said, very evenly.

Teddy stared at Brian's fingers, hanging limply by his side.

"B-but that's not possible. You...must have said it wrong. Brian, I know he loves you--"

"Enough." Brian's voice was a drawn blade. "To the devil with my husband!"

Teddy circled Brian, finally seeing his face, his eyes. He reached out, as if to touch.

"If he died, I would not care, do you hear me?"

"I hear you." Teddy swallowed thickly, rubbing his arms, chilled. "Go and sit in your study. We shall explore the latest figures from Epsilon 9. That is, if you still plan on emigration?"

Brian looked down at his open shirt, at his half undone trousers. "I...will change my attire."

...

Justin lay awake on his bed at the cottage, the drifting rose vines tapping against the glass so he stared at the moving patterns thrown onto the ceiling. It seemed... It seemed almost as if there was an order, a cadence, if only he could puzzle out the meaning of the intervals.

"You're so far away," Brandon said, very gently. "Did it not go well at the assembly?"

Justin flushed, avoiding Brandon's gaze. "It was the usual...crush."

"It's not easy being a prince, I shouldn't imagine."

Justin closed his eyes, but still, hot tears escaped from under the tightly pressed lids.

Brandon pulled him close. "Do not be sad."

"What...am I to you?" Justin was looking up at Brandon now, face coated with tears, lips trembling.

"A new friend." Brandon kissed his forehead. "My employer. My lover if you will ever take or be taken."

Justin gave a soft laugh. "Very civilized."

"Love is a wild garden."

"...Savage!" Justin pressed his face against Brandon's neck. "I want to make a baby with you."

Brandon didn't immediately respond, so Justin sat back. "That is...? I thought you wanted?"

Brandon shoved back his hair. "It is a pleasant idea, but I find I'm afraid of the reason behind this sudden urge to procreate."

"You said... It would help me put things in perspective."

"You saw him today, didn't you?" Brandon whispered. "Saw him, fucked him. And now--"

"It is over between us!" Justin looked at Brandon, pleading, "I will not be hurt anymore. It is...too much."

"Tea in the garden this morning." Brandon gathered Justin close. "I'll bake scones."

"You aren't a very good cook," Justin said, clutching Brandon's muscular arms. He was warm, close, beautiful. Inclined to be in charge.

Justin was inclined to allow it for now, save for one sticking point.

"I want a little girl this time."

Brandon looked stubborn. "You carry her then."

Justin's eyes widened. "Um."

"Ha."

He rolled on his back and sighed, "I would give anything not to feel this way."

Brandon put an arm around him and rested his head between Justin's neck and shoulder. "You just need a lot of very good sex."

Unbelievably, Justin's lips stretched in a faint smile. "That seems a therapy Brian himself would employ."

...

"Another two weeks and we'll intube the child," the doctor said, drying his hands on old fashioned linen. "Will the other father be there for the ceremony?"

Brian shook his head, buttoning his shirt. He'd be rid of the annoying little bulge. The constant need to piss. His embarrassing, needy, swollen prostate.

"Surely you have someone," the physician prodded, obviously a follower of The True Way, the popular pro family religious organization.

Brian went to the room next door and signaled Teddy to come into the doctor's office. "My manservant will attend the ceremony and stand in as...family," he said, very softly. "He is to be the child's godfather."

The doctor blinked. "Unconventional."

"Brian!" Teddy stared, swallowed. "I..."

Brian squeezed Teddy's shoulder and then leaned close and whispered, "I wish to get very, very drunk now, and I think you should hire me a couple of skilled prostitutes. Preferably twins. And..." His gaze dropped. "Make them blond."

...

Justin had the kind of dream that felt like another life he was living, a life he yearned for, only to wake up to the pebble-colored one he lived.

He sighed, alone in the warmth of his bed, drifting in a patch of sunshine.

His cock was hard, aching for relief, for Brian's mouth, the skillful way he used to wake Justin, laugh as he tormented his easy husband.

Brian lay tangled with Brandon in the pregnancy chair. Hazel and blue eyes watched as Justin bit his lip, trembling, before joining them. He gasped as his hardness grazed against another hardness.

A hand, Brandon's, pulled him down for a kiss.

Slutty, moving like honey out of a jar, Justin was coaxed to forget they might get into some trouble for breaking the law about couples only creating a baby. Brian had snorted in disgust and said the point was to couple and it was their business how they did it.

Now Brian's hand wrapped around him as he smirked and Justin's neck arched. "The prince's two commoners."

Justin's eyes widened. He did not think that way, whatever society called them. "I would not presume."

Urgent, drugged, a tube running from his hip to a machine clicking and recording and waiting, Brandon spread his legs, silver chains webbing them. He'd take them both. His lips shared kindness against Justin's, focused on his enjoyment.

Brian was more direct, slathering lube on Justin and raising one of Brandon's shackled legs and then taking Justin's prick, guiding him inside the waiting Brandon.

Justin hissed at the tight heat, embedded, Brandon's hands gripping his sweaty lower back, while Brian watched, controlled. He whispered in Justin's ear, "Don't come yet."

Justin was trembling, a bow strung tight, trembling as Brian's fingers probed him. "Please, Brian, please let me come...!"

On paper, he was the prince and these were his lower class lovers, his husbands, but it was Brian who ruled their bedroom. Brian prowling, hungry, who they strove to please.

His legs shoved wider by impatient hands. Gripped by Brandon, plowed by Brian.

"Make a baby in your slut," Brian growled, his white teeth bit down on Justin's neck, marking, as Justin screamed, coming--

Part Twenty-Four, “Duel”

How can you see into my eyes like open doors
Leading you down into my core where I've become so numb
Without a soul
My spirit sleeping somewhere cold
Until you find it there and lead
It back home

Fanning himself with ostrich feathers, Ethan leaned close to Rickert Morley, taking in the famous duelist's severe black clothing, his black cravat, which he affected along with a ruby stick pin, like a drop of blood, to remind everyone of how many men and women he'd killed on the field of honor. "He'll be here soon," Ethan whispered, almost a little hard. To have power over Kinney, the barbarian... "And I made sure he will have precious little self control." Brian's connection had been accommodating when faced with deportation to the colonies.

"Can't fight him while he's gone with child, that's the law," Morley reminded him, reaching for some claret from a passing servant.

Ethan curbed his impatience, taking in the ball at Sandhurst, the great room filled with colorfully dressed men and women, watching to see the comets of new and old liaisons, forming, shattering under avid eyes.

"He'll meet you. He's scheduled to intube it in a mere week."

"Kinney has a lot of pride." Morley rolled flavor on his tongue, as if he were already picturing a white, fixed face and a blossom of blood in the chest.

...

Now that I know what I'm without
You can't just leave me
Breathe into me and make me real
Bring me to life

The dancers whirled, colors like shaggy flowers sprouting in nightmare, twisting, turning, smile suddenly frozen.

Justin came face to face with his husband.

Flummoxed, he trembled, panting, body quivering, on the verge of flight or fight.

His lips parted, his eyes drinking in the disheveled hair, the perspiration dotting Brian's forehead, his loosened cravat. Just who had loosened it? Justin thought in bitter acid.

Brian toasted him, long hazel eyes taking in Justin's arm through Brandon's. "Quite a smashing crush," he enunciated carefully.

"You're drunk," Justin growled. "Have you no decency? Our child!"

"S-safe enough. Besides, Brandon's been telling everyone how he'll soon have 'happy news.'" Brian wobbled, unbelievably appealing although he was half gone, damn him! "Marrying him so he can carry another for you? Won't need me then, will you? Me or the b-brat."

"What?" Stunned, Justin looked at Brandon who raised his eyebrows, his mouth carefully shut. "No, I... One marriage is enough for this lifetime!"

Brian laughed in Justin's face. "My thoughts exactly!"

A newly knighted peer came between them then, bowing for Prince Justin, who smoothed his features, aware of the eyes on him, on his husband. God, what farce!

...

Wake me up inside
Call my name and save me from the dark
Bid my blood to run

Save me from the nothing I've become

Justin slid closed the anteroom door, pausing to think about locking it and then deciding he had better not. God knows what they'd do alone behind a locked door!

Brian was reaching for a brandy decanter.

"Stop," Justin commanded softly.

Brian's eyes, shades of hazel shame, anger, lust. He paused, but picked up a glass.

Justin marched over and struck it from his hand, mouth tight, looking up at his husband's hard face, hungry eyes. "You are becoming something of a drunkard and there is only so much that drugs can do to counteract your over indulgence!"

"Don't tell me you care about your brat!"

Justin blinked. "What?"

Brian cocked a brow.

Justin flushed. "Oh, Brandon. I... He's not with child." He raked a hand through his hair. "Our son will be my only heir probably."

Brian shrugged, as if indifferent, but Justin observed his hands minutely relaxed.

"Do you really feel nothing for our child?" Justin couldn't prevent himself from probing, even knowing Brian's merciless honesty. "You saw him and I know...I believed at the time you felt a little of the wonder I did."

Brian folded his arms, swaying a little. "You always write romance. That is not me, Justin."

Justin put a hand carefully on Brian's sleeve, knowing his husband for an unpredictable animal. "Please. Be circumspect for another week."

Brian's chest moved rapidly.

Justin cleared his throat, thinking he should remove his hand. Why didn't he? "I hear you are looking into immigration."

Brian gave a curt nod. "I always meant to leave this deceased planet. I can't...breathe here."

"Begin on some rustic wilderness?" Justin felt fear for Brian. The colonies were wild places.

"Build a home for myself, maybe something...Tudor. I liked your house."

"You burned it to the ground!" Justin reminded him wryly, aching. Oh, Brian. His hand moved up and cupped Brian's cheek. Brian rubbed his head against Justin's palm, affectionate like a dangerous cat, his pupils blown as they reflected Justin's yearning. "What are you on, Zoner? Brian..."

"Don't leave," Brian rasped, tugging Justin closer, so their suits grazed, stiff, but under the warmth of flesh, feeling.

A kiss heated the blood, so he drowned, gripping Brian's skull.

"Don't make him pregnant. You'd shove aside our child--" Without the drug, Brian would never have uttered those words. It killed Justin he could only be intimate under extreme circumstances.

"Never!" Roughly, Justin laughed, fighting tears already. Oh, Brian... Hurt to be so close to him, close to the fire again, risking becoming ashes like his beloved house. Must pull away somehow...

He took a deep breath. "I cannot make a life with you. Day to day is too much turmoil. I tried to understand you. Tried to..." He swallowed. Love you. "I have failed utterly. It is unbearable."

Brian tried to draw him back, back into a drug more insidious than any he'd taken. Drowning in a net until he didn't care where the surface lay. Kissed, kissing, the sound of need, raw, searing. Brian, Brian, Brian...

A sound beyond the room roused him. Brian kissing his neck, hand sliding down to Justin's breeches and the aching flesh. If he touched, he would ignite! They'd be coupling again, wild as animals.

No.

"No, Brian, no!" Desperate now, Justin shoved his husband away.

Hair in his eyes, Brian glared blankly, crouched, and Justin felt a tingle of unease. Brian truly didn't seem himse--

Brian's fingers, merciless, bruising, his mouth covering Justin's, taking breath, taking choice. Oh, God, what is this...?!

Justin was fighting now, fighting to be free, fighting for his honor...and Brian's.

A choked sob as Brian shoved him on the divan, hands tearing, no, no, this wasn't his husband, never in all their fighting, their crashing together, their shattered porcelain had Brian ever been anything but gentle--

"Don't, please, something's wrong!"

Brian's pupils, the blackness swallowing him, threatening to swallow them both. "Don't fight me, damn you, you want this, you little goddamned tease, haunting me, why can't you leave me alone!"

Struggling, trying to throw him off. Justin's hand clawed, caught a bronze figurine. A sob caught in his throat. Save him. Save us both. I must--! He struck, Brian cried out--

Sound of retching.

Arms wrapped around himself, eyes pressed tight over burning tears.

Brian vomiting on the floor at his feet.

Justin put his arm over his eyes, oh, God, what had almost happened? He couldn't think, but he had...he had to. His eyes snapped open. "Something's wrong," he whispered, looking at Brian, untamed hair, flat pain, blood on his forehead, running down his face.

"Indeed something is wrong," Rickert Morley said, walking through the door Justin had left unlocked. "Your husband has shown himself to be the commoner trash he is. Let me help you." He reached out, touched Justin.

Chilled, Justin jerked away. He had always avoided the man, a hawk of death.

Ethan rushed to him. "Oh, my God, Justin, beloved!"

Morley kicked Brian, who curled into the fetal position.

"Stop!"

"Justin, he tried to--"

"Something's wrong!" Justin tried to shove Ethan away.

Morley grabbed Brian by the hair. "I demand satisfaction," he purred, licking his lips as he stared into blown pupils, white, fixed face.

Justin stepped forward, heart beating, feeling the shards of his life fall away and it was all so simple. "And you shall have it," he whispered.

Morley's eyes widened.

Ethan's hand clawing at him.

On lookers from the open door, hungry sounds as they watched the death play of final scandal. Ruin.

"No!" Brian mumbled, reaching drunkenly for the corner of the divan, trying to get to his feet and when he did, Justin knew just what he would do.

Justin removed a white glove deliberately, hand steady, not shaking, oh, God, not shaking at all! But he was a Prince of the realm, born to tradition. He snapped it across Morley's face in silent, emphatic insult. "Are you not a man?" he growled.

"NO!" Ethan cried. Disaster. Irrevocable.

"Dawn. Pistols?"

Justin's eyes narrowed. "Swords."

"You goddamned little fool!" Brian was on his feet, his hands bruising again on Justin's shoulders as he shook him. Justin laughing as he stared into his husband's face. "What are you doing?"

Got to open my eyes to everything
Without a thought without a voice without a soul

"I love you," Justin whispered. From the first moment I saw you, haughty, removed, more beautiful than any other man in the room, so I could see no other. "With my life, with my death."

"You...!" Brian's forehead against his and it was right, so right, why had he cared so much about a burned house, broken porcelain, ideals of perfect contentment? This was life! "If Morley doesn't kill you, I will!"

Don't let me die here
There must be something more
Bring me to life

Still laughing, lit up inside, blazing in these final moments, Justin whispered, "You really love me! Oh, God."

"...Kill you myself!" Brian's arms wrapped around him, bands of desperation. The removed, the perfect, the aloof, the infamous Brian Kinney, damned, destroyed, in love with his husband.

Part Twenty-Five, “Strategy”

It was a monday, when my lover told me,
"never pay the reaper with love only."
What could i say to you, except, "i love you."
And "i'd give my life for yours."

Brian paused at the entrance to Paddy's, the drinking hole of paroled naval officers. He never visited the establishment since he had no desire to relive the things he'd done in war in the name of the honor of the crown--blowing other ships to dust, atmosphere imploding, blood trails like ruby beads floating in zero grav...

He looked at Teddy, who was dressed in the scarlet and black uniform of a ship captain's steward. "You won't do anything foolish," he stated, and his voice had a snap Teddy had not heard since Brian's days in the navy.

"N-no, sir," Teddy said, brushing Brian's immaculate sleeve. "I believe you are about to steer us into clear and present danger without any help from me," he finished unhappily.

"Some times there is no other course of action." Brian moved into the room and perhaps the lightning purpose in his eyes, the reflection of a captain in full dress mess, white and gold, chest bristling with medals earned under fire, caused the room to hush as men and women turned their heads.

Brian's hair swept back from his forehead, his long mouth firm, his beauty cold and focused, striding toward a particular table and two ex-royal marines playing a hand of whist.

...

The first time we made love, i... i wasn't sober.
How could i ever love another, when i miss you every day...
How could i ever get over you, when i'd give my life for yours.

Rickert Morley smiled around his cheroot. He had a good hand. He leaned back in the chair, secure on his ground. No one here would dare interfere with him.

He looked across at his companion, waiting for her to make the next play, wondering what had delayed her; she was staring across the room, her mouth agape. Wha--?

With a dueler's experienced senses, he looked in the mirror and blinked when mica crystal and gold glittered, dazzling his eyes like sunrise on water so for a moment he could not process the reflection of the warrior striding toward him.

Kinney.

Morley's loins tightened.

He'd always wanted to fuck him. But killing him, spilling his blood, would do as well. It had been a disappointment when the little blond rooster had interfered. What threat was he? A painter, pah. Morley would skewer him in time for an early breakfast.

"Morley." Kinney's soft voice snapped him out of his reverie and he put down his cards with false calm, struggling to keep the smirk off his face. So it was true what Lord Ethan had feared; the commoner's feelings were involved. Oh, how delicious. Morley would be happy to kill Kinney after he did his husband.

His companion pushed back and the squeak of her chair made Morley aware that something felt...off.

Kinney's face had no expression. Usually the lovers, husbands and wives who came to arrange an appointment with him were torn with emotion, grief, rage.

...Kinney had removed a white glove. Before Morley could speak, he slashed it across Morley's face. And again. And again.

Morley fell from his chair, crashing into a clumsy heap on the floor before Kinney's polished boots.

His lip bleeding, eyes mad.

"You will settle for first blood," Kinney whispered, kneeling beside him. "You will not touch a golden hair on his head."

Morley snarled, gripping the table, trying to heft himself up. He'd kill the blond, put his blade inside him and take him to a place that Kinney could never touch.

His will surged, seeking to clash against Kinney's in the familiar battle of personality that was a part of dueling, but it seemed to dissipate against dark cloud.

"I will not meet you in the field of honor because I have none," Kinney continued, placing a boot on the fallen chair and leaning as close to Morley as a lover might. "And if you kill him, I will have nothing." He grabbed Morley by the scruff of his coat. "I will find you one night and grip your beating heart in my fist, if you touch a hair on his head."

And then unbelievably, Kinney was up, turning his back, like a goddamned hero in a holodrama! The final insult.

Face stinging, Morley shoved aside uneasiness.

He'd smother Kinney's bright yellow canary, leaving shattered pink bone and staring blue eyes on the field of honor!

...

My dear, It's time to say i thank god for you.
I thank god for you in each and every single way.

It's time to let you know. time to let you know.

I know we are... we are the lucky ones.
I know we are... we are the lucky ones.

Prince Justin rubbed his temples, wishing he was less polite and could kick out the curious who had crashed his garden party.

He stifled a bubble of crazed frivolity; Good God, tomorrow he met Morley at dawn! And the gowns that stroked his green lawns, the beringed fingers handling roses, these unwelcome guests might see him die tomorrow.

Brandon appeared at his elbow. "I have removed my belongings," he said, regret shading his tone. "Justin, I should have told you the truth sooner..." Then his eyes lifted beyond Justin's face and resignation filled them.

A stir in his guests. A flash of gold, a scarlet ribbon of valor, a white uniform, white gloves, broad shoulders, lean body, level hazel eyes holding his.

Justin swallowed, hands falling to his sides, helpless to do anything but meet this magnificent... His husband.

Oh dear.

Then Brian was standing before him and everyone, everything eclipsed.

"Cupid, I presume," Justin mumbled. Brian had disappeared after the scene at the ball. Justin had wondered... Did he regret--?

And then his breath rushed out of his body as Brian Kinney knelt, cursed, adjusted his ornamental sword, and looked up at Justin, like a lover gazing at the moon.

"We had not finished our conversation."

"Oh," Justin said.

"Justin, marry me."

"What?" His voice was high, almost a screech. He swallowed and lowered it to civility. "I am your husband."

"I received papers of intent for separation."

"Oh. I forgot about those. Had them drawn up more than once." Justin shrugged, though his blue eyes heated when he remembered the constant provocation of living with his husband. "I suppose my secretary sent them by mistake."

Color appeared in Brian's cheekbones. "Do not separate yourself from me. Leave this place, this safe world, your family, your wealth."

Justin gaped and Brian swallowed and it struck Justin that this was not easy for Brian, but then he'd not been prepared, had never thought-- In front of all these people!

"I burned down your house, I offered you insult, I fucked you," Brian recited. "And now I want you to bide with me."

"You are crazed!"

"Undoubtedly."

"Romantical."

"The only strategy to win a romantic prince away from his friends, his realm."

Justin's legs gave out and he was kneeling next to this beautiful barbarian, this glorious stranger. "So this is a tactical display."

"Is it working?" Despite the humor of his words, Brian's eyes were level, serious, a little vulnerable.

Justin could feel all the accumulated hurts, the tally he'd kept in his heart, falling aside.

"Wherever you go..." Their fingers met, meshed, married, and then Brian pulled him close, his lips brushing Justin's cheek and then his forehead.

A second later, his dashing peacock swung him into his arms and turned to confront the staring company. "Get the fuck out," he growled.

Justin buried his face against Brian's neck, stifling laughter. A very useful kind of husband.

Brian carried Justin toward his humble cottage in the heart of his garden and Justin clasped his hands around Brian's neck. This was very satisfyingly romantic and he could think of only one reason for his pragmatist to employ this strategy. Beloved.

Part Twenty-Six, “Reconciliation”

I know I left too much mess and
destruction to come back again
And I caused nothing but trouble
I understand if you can't talk to me again

"How do I take this off?" Justin was laughing, face lit.

Brian's fingers slid over Justin's, holding them, pausing. "You never undressed a man in uniform?" He raised a brow.

Kiss. Lips breathlessly parted, affectionate, hungry reunion.

"You're my only man in uniform, my husband."

"Oh." Brian pursed his lips. "I think I like that."

"What?" Justin was on the bed now, Brian beside it as Justin slowly pulled frogs free of their moorings, unveiling smooth olive skin. He laid a kiss on Brian's chest, between his nipples. "Beautiful, infuriating man!"

Brian cupped his face, holding his gaze square on. "I like it when you call me my husband."

"Tomcat." Justin wound his arms around Brian, luxuriating in the freedom to share another kiss. "Mine."

"For your sins," Brian agreed, but his tone was grave to his own ears.

I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender

"Shhhhh." The jacket, medals like sunbursts, white and gold, falling aside and then his lean animal husband crawled onto the bed with a simple patchwork, trapping Justin beneath him. Justin put his legs around Brian's hips, ensnaring him.

Justin's hand buried in Brian's silken hair; Brian's finger tracing Justin's parted lips.

He pulled his reluctant husband down, the kiss aching, a pain rooted in his needy cock.

Justin groaned, arched; only Brian could give him that perfect relief. Some part of him a touchstone that flared to life only from Brian's callused touch. He was an artist, but in life, in blood and flesh, Brian was his Pygmalion.

"No, not yet--" Softly now, Brian fighting the undertow of their passion.

Justin's breeches tugged low, his penis free, his long blond hair spread on his pillow. He must be the picture of a wanton, pale legs open like a slutty rose and then riding Brian's lower back as he--

Corded throat. A smirk he felt against his inner thigh. "Oh, my God...!"

Brian's lips against him, courting, warm penetration. Fingers spreading him wider. "I fucked you," he whispered. "I wanted to degrade you."

"I could never resist you."

"My voluptuary."

Probing fingers now. Justin's eyelashes fluttered, every touch, every heartbeat, stacking more wood beneath the fire.

Tears stung his eyes when he thought of all the pain, the nights he'd lived with anger caged in the walls of his room.

"Don't." Brian reading him. "One day you won't think of how we met."

When Brian slid in, Justin felt his lean body and the hard bulge of his early pregnancy collide against his own body. "I want to see our son."

"Shut up, of course you will, you little fool." Brian's hand like a collar around his throat.

Justin whispered, looking up into Brian's eloquent hazel eyes. "You can't know that."

There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

Passing roses made violet by moonlight, oozing the dew of the night. Justin in Brian's arms, feet dangling, walking through the garden, an honesty in their nudity so Justin was outside this moment, recording it to capture in a pale wash at some future time.

Brian lowered him in the gazebo swollen with more roses. A wind pushed them, the clouds ghosting by the moon, and Justin shivered, feeling the malevolence of the coming of light, stealing away the shadowed lover's world.

...The damp sparkling on Brian's shoulders, Justin's face nested between neck and shoulder, thrusting inside, shallow, conscious of Brian's pregnancy, a hand running down the sleek, unwilling vessel quickened with his child.

"I know what you're thinking," Brian rasped, undulating with the invasion he permitted.

"I never denied that I like I've made you pregnant."

Their hands knitted and Justin's head bent, lips meeting Brian's as the moon faded and time slipped.

Part Twenty-Seven, “Resolution”

When we die
We go into the arms of those who remember us

Dressed in scarlet and gold, a royal prince in full feather, as resplendent as a peacock, Justin exited his carriage. The body guards Brian had insisted upon shoved aside the more impudent of the media, gaping faces, blurring words.

It was a fine morning.

The wind snapped the flag of the monarchy and Justin had the thought if Brian were here, he'd be glaring at that symbol. How he hated the constrictions and traditions of their world!

Justin swallowed, wondering if his blood would soon splash across perfect green grass. At his side, Daphne, his second, held an old fashioned wooden box which held his pistols gripped in white hands.

...

The Mistress of the Field, wearing her city guard uniform of sky blue and silver, personally met Prince Justin, crossing the grass in determined strides.

"Your highness," she greeted him, bowing.

He nodded tightly, afraid to speak.

He wished... He wished the rules of the day allowed for his royal consort to be present, but the law was rigid. No family could accompany duelists.

"Sir, I must ask you; is there any way that your dispute might be settled with something less than blood?"

Justin's face was cold as he remembered the insult to his husband.

Brian had yelled at him this morning that it didn't fucking matter, what did he care since they were both leaving? But it mattered to Justin and he would not be moved.

He hated that they'd fought after their beautiful night together!

Why couldn't Brian send him off with tears and loving words?

Justin snorted, fists clenching.

It had taken him an hour alone, walking his gardens, to compose himself.

He looked at the fixed face of the marine captain. "I am afraid that will be quite impossible," he said mildly.

...

Rickert Morley watched as the lady Daphne, Prince Justin's second, examined his guns. This was his ground where he'd killed men and women, all brought here by their ridiculous sense of honor.

Now he admired the slight figure of the prince. Silver blond hair in a neat pony tail, as flexible as a dancer.

His eyes were blue flame, his jaw bunched and rigid.

He was nothing like the bleak whiskey death Morley had read in Kinney's eyes.

Morley noted that the princling's fingers trembled as he took his pistol from the Mistress of the Field.

...

Are you drowning or waving?
I just want you to save me

Justin watched as his pistol was loaded, reached out and took it automatically.

His heart was pounding in his ears.

Brian's face, body, flashed. The disastrous first time they'd fucked. Justin's naive posy, crushed under his husband's indifferent boot, the first time they'd looked at their son, projected on the ceiling above them.

"Take your places," the Mistress of the Field bade them.

Justin caught Daphne's frightened eyes and looked away.

...

I am alive
I'm awake to the trials of confusion create
There are times when I feel the way we're about to break
When there's too much to say

Daphne jumped when a gloved hand gripped her shoulder.

She turned.

"Oh," she whispered.

...

Justin waited for the white handkerchief to fall.

His hand was at his side, his blood was singing cold.

Suddenly things slowed in place, like pieces of a collage he was composing.

Facing him across the grass, Morley's hair stirred in the gentle morning breeze.

...

The handkerchief lifted high, free, twisting--

The shape mesmerized Justin, almost in a trance, his arm lifting.

Shape like a white dove, like a piece of unfolding origami, and beyond, Morley's hard, focused gaze--

...

The Prince made a fine target, a pale, slim flame, framed by neatly trimmed trees and shrubs, his hair stirring in the wind, alluring as a merman.

His arm lifted, smooth, a weapon locked on, so that Morley didn't even have to think about it. He would kill Prince Justin. He was killing Prin--

...

A hot ball of agony struck Morley.

He gaped, arm still coming up, holding the shocked eyes of the prince.

"No, goddamn you!" he yelled.

Kill. Kill him!

The second shot slammed into his chest.

"What?" Baffled, Morley clawed at his ruffled shirt.

The third took out his eye as well as the top of his skull.

...

Pandemonium on the field.

Police, marine guards, Daphne staring at Justin in horror, a tall hooded man at her side, hand on her shoulder.

He collapsed, the pistol he had never fired in anger hitting damp, warm grass.

"...High powered sniper. Search the grounds!" The Mistress of Arms was barking into her communicator. "And when you find the bastard, I'll shoot him myself for spitting on our protocol!"

Anguish, terror. "No!"

What have I done? Damn Brian! Now I've killed him. Killed us both.

Justin watched helplessly as the Mistress to the Field marched grimly to Daphne's side, gun raised, tearing aside the cloak shielding her companion--

"Oh my God! Teddy?" Justin rasped.

...

Two Months Later:

"I don't feel like making an appearance," Justin said, looking at Brandon over his shoulder as he pulled on white gloves which reached above his elbows. "I'm tired of greeting foreign dignitaries, of assemblies."

Tired. Bored.

Since Brian's disappearance, Justin had been going through the motions. At first, he'd been sure his fugitive husband would contact him and they'd flee together but... weeks had passed. Even the police who stalked him, waiting to catch his husband, had become impatient.

Apparently Brian didn't care to resume their acquaintance.

There were rumors of a beautiful brunet man fitting Brian's description prowling the pleasure world of Stellar's Moon, gambling, whoring.

Damn you! Justin's eyes narrowed. He wanted to kill his husband himself some days! He'd run off, taking Justin's son.

"It won't be so bad. You'll have your dashing escort," Brandon reminded Justin, unruffled.

"Uh," Justin grunted, dressed at last. He disdained using rouge or donning a wig, preferring comfort.

He locked the cottage door with his security wand, looking at the sad looking fall roses, withering petals touched by frost.

I know how they feel.

Brandon gestured to his carriage, a dashing black affair, and Justin dutifully paused, waiting for his companion to enter first.

A lean hand reached out from the carriage, snagged his arm, yanking Justin into the vehicle without ceremony.

...

Should we try to get along?
Just try to get along

"You son of a--!" Justin's palm was up, trembling, as Brian shoved aside the black hood, revealing his unshaven face. Then Justin's eyes brimmed with tears and he was clawing at Brian's overgrown locks, tugging him down, kissing...

"Bastard! Whore!" Justin mumbled, shoving aside Brian's clothing. Nipples. Lean muscled chest. And his favorite... He licked his lips, kneeling. "Wait! Where is my child?" he growled.

Brian laughed. "Only now you notice the whelp is expelled? He's fine, waiting for us at home."

"Home, that planet of whores and gamblers?" Justin spat.

Brian tugged him to his feet, pulling him close. "Spitfire! I had a fantasy this morning that you hit me with your canvas before we fucked, slopping paint all over our bodies..." Brian's lips wooed Justin's, and Justin could feel his anger, his will, crumbling like a sandcastle giving way to the tide.

"Ummmm."

"Home is on that colony I told you about. I've been living alone there with our son for two months." Brian gave Justin a clear look, taking his hand. "I have nothing left, no money, no name. I'm a wanted man."

Justin smiled, leaning his face against Brian's bare chest in a moment of mingled exasperation and perfect happiness. "Take me home, husband."

The End