Ben made a face. "No, we're not counting charity premieres."
"Why not?"
"It doesn't count if you were wearing a tuxedo," Ben said, emphasizing it enough to make James smile. "And it definitely doesn't count if you were sitting next to the people who actually starred in the movie."
"Fair enough. Then I guess I haven't been since university."
"Well, after tomorrow, we could go to movies, like any other couple," Ben suggested. "We could go eat at that chicken tikka place we ordered from back at my flat."
"That chicken tikka for the crown? A fair trade, if you ask me." James had begun to play along now. "We could dine there every night. Become regulars. I could order 'the usual,' like some New York gumshoe from the 1940s."
What else might cheer him up? Ben cast around and hit upon an idea. "One other thing we could do . . ."
"Yes?"
"You seemed to enjoy the idea of going to a gay club." With a sly smile, Ben added, "I'd love to take you."
James stared. "I couldn't."
"Why not?"
"Well--I don't need to cruise for guys. And, I'd like to point out, neither do you."
"It doesn't have to be about cruising." Ben moved a little closer on the sofa. "Guys go with their partners all the time. Sometimes it's just, you know, look but don't touch. Besides, I'd love to show you off." He glanced at the Slanket. "As long as you were wearing something slightly sexier."
A small smile began to illuminate James's face. "Show me off. Honestly."
"I mean it. They'd all know you were the prince--no way around that--but they'd all react the same way I did at first. They wouldn't be able to believe you're actually this beautiful in person. More beautiful."
To Ben's surprise, James became a little bolder. "I should be the one showing you off. They've all seen that swimsuit photo, which means they'd be drooling over the real thing."
"So we'd fight off each other's admirers. Dance together so close that everyone would imagine us together in bed." Ben leaned his head so that his lips very nearly touched James. "Kiss each other while everyone was watching. Then come home and fuck like animals."
"God, that would be good."
"Wouldn't it?"
"I wish we could go right now," James whispered.
"Why not?"
They both sat there in silence for a moment, eyes widening, as each wondered if they dared to call the other's bluff. Then James's face lit up. "I should call security and tell them--we're going out."
Ben laughed for sheer pleasure. "I adore you. Have I told you that today? Because I do."
"Tell me again."
Moving swiftly to James's side, he told him with a kiss, long and wet, and when they pulled apart, they were both laughing. Ben said, "I can't believe you're going to do it."
"Nothing left to lose, right?" But James paused for a moment. "Still, I can't entirely lose credibility so soon after sending Indigo to hospital. So we have to have some limits."
It was obvious what this meant. "Don't worry. I promise not to take you against the wall in front of everyone."
Though James's eyes sparkled at the thought, he cautioned, "Really we should go to a gay club where no one's having sex, you know, on the premises."
"Hmm."
James looked worried. "There are gay clubs like that, aren't there?" He stared at Ben. "At least a few?"
"Starting to be," Ben conceded. As gay men entered the mainstream, their bars were becoming more mainstream as well. But no hookups at all? "Let's try Google."
He got to work on the computer as James called down and informed security and the equerry they would be going out for the evening, address TBA. However, Ben found it difficult to concentrate, buoyed as he was by the now-unfamiliar feeling of complete freedom. This was only the first taste of what life would be like with James after the palace--what real life could be like for them. He looked forward to teaching James just how beautiful liberty could be.
"Okay," he said triumphantly. "We have this place, done up as a '50s-style American diner, which is, according to Time Out London, 'more about camp and cocktails than cruising.' Good neighborhood, reasonably upscale, very popular. I'm going to call and demand they reserve a table for an anonymous VIP. Shouldn't be any problem on a Monday night. We might be the only ones in there."
"I can't believe I'm doing this." James looked so excited that Ben could hardly believe he wasn't wriggling.
So he slapped James on the ass and said, "Go put on your sexiest clothes. I meant what I said--I intend to show you off."
In the end, though, Ben didn't change into his own preferred clubbing attire. Like James said, they had to present some semblance of respectability, which pretty much ruled out anything made of mesh. He did, however, go for a fairly snug pair of jeans and a form-fitting black shirt. James was more formal, of course, but the dark grey trousers he chose were a pair that definitely showed off his perfect ass, and the vivid blue silk shirt only made his eyes shine a more perfect green.
When they first saw each other, James's eyes brightened. "My God, how did I ever end up with you?"
"Just lucky, I guess." Ben pulled him into a kiss so passionate that he began to wonder whether they should just skip the club and go straight to the fucking-like-animals portion of the evening.
But when the kiss broke, James was even more alight with anticipation. Seizing Ben's hand, he began heading toward the door. "Come on. Let's go."
The drive there was uneventful enough. James's security staff were far too disciplined to react to any choice of destination, no matter how unprecedented. But as they pulled up just outside the club, James whispered, "I'm nervous."
"James, I want you to keep four words in mind." Ben put his hands on either side of James's face. "Just keep repeating them to yourself the whole time. All right?"
"All right. What are they?"
Ben leaned very close and whispered, "Head. Bitch. In. Charge."
James was still laughing out loud when the security staffer opened the sedan door for them. The rest of the security hurried in, ready to take positions by all doors and exits, protecting them as invisibly as possible. Although Ben exited the car second, he was still able to watch the moment when the face of the bouncer/gatekeeper in front of the club shifted from jaded nonchalance to complete astonishment. Better yet was the way James took his hand, holding possessively on to Ben as they walked into the nightclub.
The thumping beat of the music was almost lost under the rising buzz of whispers as James and Ben threaded their way toward the table reserved for them. As always, when he walked into a club, Ben scanned the room, but this time, he wasn't searching for yet another gorgeous boy. This time, he was watching them all see James, reveling in their surprise, and their shameless ogling.
As always when he was in public, James had become The Prince again . . . yet his persona tonight was a variation on the theme Ben had never witnessed before. James was again in charge, effortlessly powerful, strong and yet graceful. The difference? This time, he hadn't dialed his sexuality down to the barest hint. Instead he wore it proudly. It seemed to glow around him like heat--the fact that James knew how to fuck, had in fact fucked Ben against a wall, wanted to do it again here and now but was only just restraining himself. He had to be driving every man in here wild with desire.
Certainly he was having that effect on Ben.
They sank into their booth, and Ben curled against James. No need for them to keep a discreet distance here: He could have his thigh pressed against James's, sling his arm around James's shoulders. James smiled at him before saying to the waiter, "We'll have a round of dirty martinis."
"Excellent, sir." The waiter wore a carhop's uniform from the 1950s, albeit with short-shorts instead of the more usual skirt.
"Not just for us." James reached into his pocket and took out a--wait. Did they even make thousand-pound notes? Apparently they did, because the waiter goggled at it. "For the bar."
"Right away, sir!"
Ben stared at him. "Not like you to show off." Which was something to say to a person who actually could wear the Crown Jewels. But it was true.
"Well." James looked a bit abashed. His shyer side wasn't that far beneath the surface. "I still don't know where my debit card is."
At first nobody came to talk to them. Not one of the guys in the club, or even the giggly hen party upstairs, would do more than gawk, which surprised Ben. Given how hard most people worked to get next to James, why wasn't the crowd in this club taking advantage of the opportunity? He hadn't been sure whether anyone would be brazen enough to hit on James while the two of them were together, but had thought it more likely than not. Instead, people were keeping their distance.
When he mentioned this to James, though, James laughed out loud. "People want to look at me, Ben. But they're absolutely horrified by the idea of talking to me. Charity events are different, because people are prepared, but in crowds like this? I can see them hoping desperately I won't single them out."
"Now I understand the round of martinis."
James grinned. "We'll see if that works."
It did, more or less. So too must have the thousand and one text messages sent by the other clubbers, because the thin crowd became a bustling one within the half hour. James's security team moved within the group, and probably at least one of them was working alongside the bouncer, but nobody seemed to want to do more than stare. The staring became friendlier, at least, and a few people at least called out their names or asked if they were having fun.
And flirted. Of course they flirted.
Ben knew he was the recipient of more than a few appreciative glances, but the men's attention was almost entirely for James. The combination of his physical beauty, his fame, and the easy, sensual confidence he wore tonight were working like a tonic on every man in the place. But James kept his arm slung around Ben's shoulders, continued brushing his fingers along Ben's jaw or through his hair. Every move James made said This man is mine, and it held the flirting to a decent minimum.
It also drove Ben wild..
"Come on," he kept urging. "Let's dance."
"I can't. You know I'm an awful dancer."
"You aren't. Not when you lead from the hips."
"I'll just become self-conscious," James said firmly. "I won't remember to lead from the hips. It would completely kill the mood if I hit the dance floor and came across as one of those royals of old, inbred to the point of having fits."
Ben laughed it off until, finally, the DJ struck up a slow song. Immediately he took James's hand. "You're dancing with me now. Don't even try to fight it."
"Oh, very well," James said, as if he were humoring Ben, though his cheeks pinked slightly with pleasure.
Or maybe those were just the multicolored lights rotating overhead as Ben led James onto the dance floor and folded him into his arms. James's hands linked behind Ben's neck, and slowly they began to sway together.
A smile began to spread across James's face. "We're dancing."
"Uh-huh."
"I'm dancing with my lover in front of the whole world."
"Yes, you are." Ben glanced up at the galleries, just for a moment. "You know we're being filmed on about five dozen different camera phones."
"I didn't come here to be discreet," James murmured. He nuzzled the corner of Ben's jaw. "I came here to find out what freedom would feel like."
"Freedom would be you coming here all alone, cruising the room, picking up any one of the countless guys in here who're already hard just thinking about you."
He said it mostly to get James turned on, but James's eyes widened as he shook his head. "No. Not without you. Being without you wasn't freedom. Loving you is what sets me free."
Was that how it felt, for him? Ben knew he didn't feel freer now that he was with James. No, he was bound in countless ways that would have horrified him, once upon a time. But he only knew that what he felt for James, what he had with him, outweighed even the sweetness of independence. "I love you too."
James responded by pulling him down for a kiss.
Let them film. Let them watch, Ben thought. It doesn't matter any longer.
Embracing James without the crushing weight of the crown upon them both: yes, that was what freedom truly meant.
They didn't stay out terribly late. James could not be coerced into dancing to anything but the slow songs, and he said the only way the meeting with the archbishop could be any worse would be if he had to do it hungover. Besides, the sight of James dressed up like that--the feel of him against Ben's body as they danced--the martini-flavored kisses--
If Ben couldn't actually take James against the wall of the club, he needed to get them back home as soon as possible.
"I wonder what the headlines will be tomorrow," James said blithely during the sedan ride home--as though his hand wasn't on Ben's cock, his thumb teasing at the ridge through Ben's trousers. But he kept his voice smooth and even, lest he alert the driver to what was going on. "I predict no fewer than four uses of the word queen to describe me. After tomorrow at least they'll give that up too."
"Hmm." That was as much as Ben could manage. He didn't trust himself to speak another word without it turning into a helpless moan.
They made it back inside their private suite . . . barely. Ben was still shutting the door when James tackled him. They collapsed onto the floor, laughing, until groans and heavy breathing erased their laughter.
"I liked the club," James whispered as he licked his way along Ben's throat. "But it wasn't as hot as my daydreams."
"Because I didn't take you against the wall?" Ben raised his hips, the better for James to tug down his jeans.
"Because I didn't take you." James stripped the pants away and tossed them over one shoulder. Now Ben lay splayed on the floor, wearing only his open shirt, cock hard and dark against his belly. "That's what I was thinking about, all night long. How amazing it feels to be buried deep inside you. Making you beg."
Ben hadn't known it was possible to feel dizzy while lying down. "Do you want me to beg? I'll beg."
"Just get into the bedroom, so I can ravish you . . . if it just means enthusiastically."
Ben's laughter was cut short by James's slap on his ass.
They fell into their bed, and their giddiness trailed off into softer smiles, into an intensity as gentle as it was powerful. Ben let James live out the role he'd taken on all night--quietly but confidently in control. Every move he made was designed to please James, or to obey him. He worshipped James's cock with his tongue, splayed his legs wide for James's hand and mouth, then lay back on the bed, knees folded up to his shoulders, the better for James to fuck him.
He breathed out sharply as James's cock thrust through the tight ring of his ass, welcoming the slight pain for the greater pleasure. It felt like new, sometimes-- like he'd never had another man opening him up this way, making him stretch and burn and groan. No other man but James seemed to count, not really.
"Yes," James whispered, rocking forward from where he stood beside the bed, the muscles of his lower abdomen working as he began to thrust. "This is what I wanted."
Ben couldn't reply. He could only push himself up slightly, the better to see James's thick cock sliding in and out of him. The sight excited him even more than the touch--and he would have thought that was impossible--but then James's hand closed around Ben's own erection, and touch conquered all. They groaned together, moved together, swore and kissed and sweated, holding out as long as they could until Ben finally came.
As he shouted out, exhilarated by the sight of it all over James's hand and belly, James let go of his cock, planted both hands on either side of Ben's shoulders and began pumping him, fast and frantic. Ben watched in delirious pleasure as James's face twisted into a grimace, then into a silent, open-mouthed cry as he climaxed.
"That," Ben panted as James still trembled atop him, "is what every man in that club tonight really wanted."
James man
aged to smile. Tendrils of his hair were stuck to his face with sweat. "And that is only, always and forever, for you."
They managed to pull themselves together enough to clean up and get into bed. James spooned around Ben this time, pressing little kisses between his shoulder blades.
"It's going to be like this from now on," Ben whispered. "Now that we're free."
For a few moments James was quiet. Then he said, "Knowing that it makes you this happy--leaving royal life, I mean--that helps me more than anything else."
His freedom meant more to James than James's own. Touched, Ben pressed one of James's hands on his heart. "I don't know if I could have done the royal thing forever. Even for very much longer. It's better now, a lot better, but still. It's not real life. Not the life we're going to build together."
"Together," James repeated, and in that one word, Ben heard the purpose and strength James would need to go on.
***
The meeting with the Archbishop of Canterbury was set for St. James's Palace, which would have to count as neutral ground. James arranged to be there fairly early, in the hopes of having a few moments to speak to the archbishop alone. It wasn't that he hoped to change what was about to happen. That seemed impossible. But James hoped the archbishop wouldn't take his behavior last night as a sign of disrespect.
Unhappily, he realized that his plan had come to nothing when he walked into the designated room--chilly and formal, all china blue and mahogany--and found Richard already waiting there.
"Surprised you managed to get out of bed, with the raging hangover you must have after your wild night out." Richard gestured toward the tabloid he'd thoughtfully put on the table. The cover featured a blurry, camera-phone shot of Ben and James in the nightclub, arms around each other on the dance floor, with the headline DANCING QUEEN.
"Hardly wild." James found he felt more amusement than annoyance as he picked up the cover to study it. "My live-in partner and I went out, had a couple of drinks, danced together, and were home before midnight. Not the stuff scandals are made of."
"This," Richard said as he flicked his hand dismissively toward the paper, "is not the image people want to have of their sovereign."
"They seem to want images of us doing absolutely anything." Last week some papers had printed photos of Nicholas folding a paper airplane.
"Not what I meant, as I'm sure you're aware." Richard didn't stand, which technically he ought to have done the moment James walked into the room. James knew Richard was just waiting to be reminded of it--hoping to turn James into the one who was defensive, the one clinging to royal protocol that would soon no longer apply to him. But James found he could let it go.