by Anna Martin
When they stepped out of the car, George walked around to collect their suitcase.
“It’s okay,” Alex said quietly, putting his hand on George’s arm. “The driver will get it.”
George said, “Oh,” and his face flushed. Alex took his hand to lead him up to the house.
Apart from the flag on top, there wasn’t anything that distinguished this house as a royal residence. The exterior was pale red brick, with large, white framed windows and ivy growing around the dark blue front door. Rotterdam House had been built as a family home and had always been used as such. It had been almost a year since Alex was home last, and he realised that he’d missed it.
Since his mother was expecting him, Alex let himself in the front door and called for her, still holding tight to George’s hand.
“Sander,” she said, stepping out of the sitting room on the west side of the house and rushing to him, her arms already held open for his hug. “Oh, I missed you.”
He let go of George then and pulled his mother into a tight hug. “I missed you too,” he murmured against her neck. He took a deep breath of her smell, squeezed her gently, then stepped back.
“This is George,” he said. “George, this is my mum, Olivia.”
“Nice to meet you.”
George held out his hand, and Alex’s mum took it, smiling at him. “I’ve heard so much about you, George. It’s lovely to finally meet you in person.”
“Where’s Dad?” Alex asked, stepping back to put his hand on George’s lower back. Reassuring, or so he hoped.
“He’ll be home in time for dinner. I wanted to make sure you had time to get here and freshen up.”
“Thanks. I’ll just show George upstairs, then we can come back and chat.”
“I’d like that. I’ll order some tea, yes?”
Alex nodded and slipped his hand into George’s again, leading him up the wide staircase. At the top, he felt George exhale heavily.
“Okay?” he asked with a slight laugh.
“Yeah. Wow.”
“What?”
“This place is huge, and your mum is gorgeous and so nice. She looks like you. Or, I guess you look like her.”
Alex nodded. “A lot of people say that. Hendrick looks more like our dad’s side of the family.”
“Will he be here tonight?”
“Nope. Just me and you and Mum and Dad tonight. You get to meet the rest of them tomorrow.”
He pushed open the door to his old bedroom, noticing that the suitcase was open on the ottoman and someone had already hung their suits up in the wardrobe.
George went straight to the window, which looked out over the back of the house, and Alex stepped up close to wrap his arms around George’s waist, resting his chin on George’s shoulder.
“There’s mostly gardens in that direction,” Alex said, reaching around George to gesture out the window. “And a few rose bushes that my mother looks after. The vegetable patch is over there, that’s my dad’s thing. He started gardening after he retired. He was in the military, did I tell you that?”
“No,” George said. Alex twisted to press a kiss to his neck.
“Thank you so much for being here.”
George covered Alex’s arms with his own and nodded. “I don’t mind.”
Later that night, when the sky was rich and dark and the stars cut through the darkness in bright spears of light, Alex took George’s hand and led him back upstairs.
They were both drunk—no elegantly tipsy about it. Alex’s father had cooked, hilariously, a huge slab of beef that they’d be finishing as leftovers for the rest of the week. It was cooked to perfection, soft and pink through the middle, served with vegetables that his dad had been proud to say he’d grown himself in a corner of the gardens he’d turned into a vegetable patch.
Of course, the only proper thing to serve with beef was red wine, and they had plenty of it. Alex was sure he’d had at least three glasses. Maybe four. Maybe more.
Red wine made Alex heady and slow, easy and loose, and the flush on George’s cheeks and chest was somehow the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
They were both dressed in jeans, Alex barefoot because he was home and that felt right. George had gone to dress in his suit, and Alex tried not to laugh at him, because that was cruel.
The suits are for tomorrow. For when the rest of the family are here. Just be yourself tonight.
George’s normal self was jeans, faded with wear, and a long-sleeved black T-shirt that stretched over his broad chest.
Alex loved him. There was no point in trying to call this anything other than love. That clean, pure, first breath of bright cold spring air love. It cut through the messiness that the wine had brought and Alex sighed with the clarity of it all.
He was in love.
His parents approved.
Not of the circumstances, maybe, because those could be better. They’d all admit to that. But of the man, they approved, and that was good.
“I’m going to go brush my teeth,” George said, his voice slow with the drunkenness.
“Okay.”
Alex moved their stuff off the bed from where it had been dumped earlier, stripped off his own jeans and jumper, and pulled all of the sheets out from where they’d been tucked in, military tight. He sprawled on the bed, as was his way, and waited.
And laughed when George walked out of the bathroom wearing long pyjama pants and a T-shirt.
“What are you wearing?”
George looked down at himself and blushed harder. His pale skin meant his whole body glowed with the flush, and even though Alex felt bad for making George embarrassed, he couldn’t help but love that skin.
“I’m not fucking you in your parents’ house,” George said.
Alex pouted.
“I’m not,” he insisted with a laugh.
“Fine,” Alex sighed.
“Go brush your teeth.”
“Yes, sir.”
The way George’s eyes darkened told Alex they’d be having another conversation about kinks in the near future.
In the small bathroom Alex did as he was told, scrubbing away the earthy scum the wine had left on his teeth and tongue. He ran the water until it was icy cold, then splashed it over his face and neck and wrists.
George was in bed when he was done, so Alex went ahead and turned the lights off before tucking himself under the covers. Within seconds George had pulled Alex back into his arms and buried his face into the nape of Alex’s neck.
Alex hummed in deep, deep contentment. “This is nice.”
He rubbed his hand slowly over George’s arm, loving the soft sound it made, the way the hairs tickled his palm. That he was even allowed to do this at all.
“Mm,” George sighed.
“Are you okay?”
“Hmm?”
Alex laughed. “With tonight.”
“Oh. Yeah. Your folks are nice.”
“They like you. I can tell.”
“That’s good. Your mum really wants to meet mine, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah.” Alex grinned. “She’s not going to give up on that, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure my mum is thinking the same thing.”
“We’ll figure something out.”
“George?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you sure you won’t fuck me tonight?”
Alex didn’t have to reach down to know his cock was half-hard, ready to spring into action if George changed his mind. Maybe even if he didn’t.
“I’m sure. Wait until we get home.”
“Okay.”
“Love you, Alex.”
Alex pulled George’s arm more securely around himself. “Love you too.”
They had a lazy day the next day, and George thought that was probably intentional on Alex’s part. Both his parents had other commitments and had left the house before he and Alex managed to stumble downstairs for breakfast.
The house was surprisingly quiet; Ge
orge had expected it would bustle with people—servants, maybe, cleaners and cooks and housekeepers. Didn’t rich people have housekeepers? Even the butler from the night before didn’t seem to be around.
Instead of heading out into Amsterdam, which would require Alex to call and report his plans to people who would send undercover agents to follow them around, they stuck to the house and its gardens.
“Wanna see the pool?” Alex asked as they finished winding through the ground floor of the house and ended up back in the grand entrance hall.
“You have a pool?”
Alex pushed both his hands through his hair and grinned sheepishly. “Yeah.”
The movement had caused the thin white T-shirt he was wearing to ride up and expose an inch or so of tanned stomach above the waistband of his jeans. Alex was comfortable here, that much was obvious. He might have left the Netherlands as a child, but this was still a home to him. And he was so very sexy when he was all casual and dishevelled like this.
“Okay,” George said, and let Alex take his hand to lead him back farther into the house.
They stopped in the kitchen, where Alex tossed him a pink apple and grabbed a banana for himself, then ducked through a side door and went down a staircase.
“This is the back way,” Alex explained. “You can go round past the conservatory to get there too, but this is quicker.”
He pushed a door open, revealing a cavernous room with a long swimming pool set in the middle.
“There’s no changing rooms,” Alex continued, gesturing with his banana, “obviously, we usually just change in our rooms if we’re coming down here.”
“Does anyone use it?”
“Yeah. My mum swims every morning.”
Their voices echoed off the blue and white pattered tiles and over the shimmering surface of the pool. To their left, a whole wall was taken up by folding windows that could open up onto the deck area in the garden. Right now they were closed, the tinted glass hiding the outside world from view.
“I should have brought shorts with me,” George said.
“I’ve got a spare pair if you want to get in.”
“Maybe later.”
“Okay.”
Alex reached over and put his hand on George’s lower back. Then, after a moment, he slid it slowly down so he could grope George’s ass.
“No,” George said.
“What?”
“I don’t care if everyone’s out. Still no.”
“Spoilsport.” Alex pouted.
Dinner wasn’t scheduled until seven at the palace. The frickin’ palace. George was back to being terrified by the time Alex dragged him upstairs to change. They’d spent the afternoon chilling, mostly on the sofa in the smaller family room. That felt normal, and even though it was a bit weird to kick back in someone else’s house, George appreciated the chance to relax here. He looked at himself in the mirror in Alex’s room, fiddling with his cuffs while Alex brushed his teeth in the bathroom.
“Will you relax?” Alex said around his toothbrush. He spat. “You look like you’re about to have an aneurism.”
“I’ve never even been to a fucking palace before,” George said.
“I’m pissed at them, actually,” Alex said. He came out of the bathroom and pulled his shirt of its hanger. “There was no need for them to do it there.”
“This is your not-the-king uncle’s wife’s birthday, right?”
“Yes.”
“And we don’t need to get her a gift or anything?”
Alex laughed and started to button the shirt. “No, it’s fine. My parents sort all of that out. You look hot, by the way.”
“Thanks,” George muttered.
He liked the suit. It fit him well and was far more comfortable than the tux he’d worn to the benefit at the museum. The shirt was soft, and even though the brogues pinched his toes a little, he figured he could cope with that for one evening.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t be wearing a tie?” George asked as he watched Alex wind a slim, navy blue one around his neck and swiftly knot it at his throat.
“No, I just wanted to match you.”
“I look like a massive scrub.”
“You don’t. You look hot, I told you. If you want to do your top button up, go for it. But I guarantee you my dad won’t be wearing one. He hates wearing ties as much as my granddad.”
George took another deep breath and turned away from the mirror. “You look hot too,” he murmured.
“Thanks, baby.”
“Please don’t call me baby in front of your parents.”
Alex laughed, grabbed the lapels of George’s jacket, and pulled him down into a hard kiss. “Not too late to back out,” he said against George’s lips. “If you want, I can come down with some horrendous stomach bug.”
“I can do it.”
“I know you can. If you want out at any point in the evening, or if you need a breather or whatever, just let me know and I’ll get you out of there.”
“Thanks. I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will. You ready?”
“Yep.”
“Good,” Alex said, and kissed him again.
Alex’s charcoal grey suit was fitted incredibly tightly to his body. He wore it with a white shirt and the navy blue tie that matched the colour of George’s suit almost exactly. Alex had the sort of confidence in formalwear George thought he’d probably never have. He was far too comfortable in a rugby shirt and jeans.
Alex’s phone buzzed, and George startled away from him.
“It’s fine,” Alex said, grinning. “It’s just my mum chasing us.” He answered it with a flick of his thumb. “We’re on our way.”
A sleek black town car waited for them in the drive, Alex’s parents already situated in the back.
“We’re sharing a car?” George asked, and Alex nodded.
“It makes sense. Hendrick is going to meet us there. He’s at uni on the other side of the city.”
“Good evening!” Alex’s dad boomed, sticking his head out of the car and grinning at them. “Don’t you both look spiffy?”
“Jesus, Dad,” Alex groaned, ducking into the car. George held the door open for him, then pulled it shut behind himself. There were four seats in the back. Olivia wore a delicate black dress and had a tiny handbag on her lap, and Klaus was in a black suit, grey shirt… and no tie.
“You look very handsome, dear,” Olivia said. “You too, George.”
“Thanks,” George said, feeling himself blush.
“Are you ready for this?” Klaus asked, slapping his thighs with his hands in an imitation drumroll.
“Seriously, Dad, what are you on?” Alex demanded. “Leave him alone. This is scary enough without you being…”
“Go on, finish that sentence,” Klaus said with a grin. He seemed to always be smiling. Alex took after his mother, that much was obvious, though his dad was handsome in a different way. Klaus was broad across the shoulders and had a bushy beard that was liberally streaked with ginger and grey. He wore his hair neatly cropped, and the light brown was starting to grey slightly at the temples. George thought it was charming.
“Will people be speaking English tonight?” George asked, twisting in his seat to talk to Olivia as the car pulled smoothly away from the house.
“I already checked,” she said, nodding. “They’re used to it anyway. Not everyone who married into the family is fluent in Dutch, so it won’t be a problem. And they all know you don’t speak Dutch, so it’s fine.”
“Okay.”
That was one weight lifted from his shoulders.
“They’re all very excited to meet you,” she said, and the weight came crashing back down. “Sander hasn’t ever brought a boyfriend home before.”
“God, Mum, not you too,” Alex groaned, making George laugh. It was good to know everyone’s parents were equally embarrassing—royalty included.
“I’m nervous,” George admitted.
“Don’t be,” Klaus sa
id immediately. “Really. We all get dressed up for parties, but it really just is a birthday party.”
“Do I need to know about forks and stuff?” George asked. At dinner the night before he’d almost forgotten who he was dining with. They were so wonderfully welcoming, and normal, and had gotten drunk at a steady, equal pace to George and Alex. That was reassuring in itself.
“Just follow me,” Alex said, reaching over to squeeze George’s knee. “You’ll be fine.”
“Ajax won today, did you see, Sander?” Klaus said. He looked too smug, and George guessed Alex didn’t follow that particular Dutch football team.
“Yeah, alright,” Alex grumbled. “It was just a friendly though, so it doesn’t count.”
“Still a good showing preseason, though. Do you follow football, George?”
“Manchester United,” he said, relieved to be back on familiar ground. “I grew up right by Old Trafford, used to have a season ticket before I moved to Edinburgh.”
“You grew up in the glory years, then,” Klaus said.
George snorted. “We saw a lot of silverware back in the day, yeah.”
The car pulled to a stop at a pair of high iron gates, and the driver seemed to stop to have a conversation with one of the armed guards. Alex seemed to sense the return of George’s nerves and gently squeezed his knee again.
They didn’t enter the palace through the main doors, instead taking a circular route around the building to where there were a number of similar black town cars depositing guests. Alex twisted in his seat to talk to his parents, leaving his hand on George’s leg.
“Are the kids going to be around tonight?”
“I think so,” Olivia said. “Dinner should be over in time for them to go to bed at a reasonable hour.”
“We were never allowed to go to dinner with the grown-ups when we were kids,” Alex said to George as the car inched forward and they waited their turn to be unloaded. “We were always left at home while they went out and had fun.”
“Oh, you know that’s not true. We left you with a nanny when you were very little, but not when you were older.”
“I remember—vividly—being left alone while you went to a party.”
