Deceived

by Megan Derr

  Benedict glanced around them with disinterest. His rooms were, compared to most apartments in the palace, remarkably plain. He'd had the rooms redone entirely, removing the more popular taste for either bold colors or watery pastels for lowkey blues and greens, brown leathers and touches of dark, antiqued gold. "Better or worse than you expected?"

  "A few days ago, I might have said they were duller than I expected," Rae said with a grimace. He set his cravat pin and cufflinks on a small dish on Benedict's bureau.

  Seeing them there, lying so casually against amongst his own jewelry, made Benedict's chest give a strange, aching twist.

  "And now?" he asked, the words coming out rough.

  "They suit you perfectly," Rae said quietly, smiling tentatively, in a way Benedict had never seen before. But heavens did he ache to see it again and again.

  He cast his jacket aside, discarded his jewelry alongside Rae's, then made short work of his shirt.

  More people than he cared to count had looked at him in admiration and lust. He was beautiful, he knew it. At least the equal of his famous grandmother, whose beauty was still talked about to this day. He'd stopped enjoying the attention a long time ago.

  But the way Rae—Rae—looked at him now, made him happy and proud of his own looks for the first time in a long time.

  "Here I thought you were the only person in the palace completely underwhelmed by my appearance," he murmured as Rae drew close. Benedict tugged him all the way in, hands skimming that slender body, frustrated Rae was still dressed.

  Rae bit at his lips, then down his throat to his chest, his mouth like a brand. Benedict shivered, hands falling to cup Rae's ass. Gods, he didn't know if he wanted to Rae into the bed or spread and let Rae have him. Both had their delights.

  "A dead man would not be immune to you," Rae murmured. "There's too much fire in your eyes, and I want to see all that carefully constructed indolence come apart."

  "Then get dressed and do it," Benedict said, and with a last sharp kiss pushed him away. He finished with his own clothes and went over to the bed, sprawling against the pillows and idly stroking his hard cock.

  Rae prowled toward him, long and lithe—but entirely too thin. Benedict hated the current fashion with a passion, but right then, when he could see the barest shadow of Rae's ribs, he hated it even more.

  As Rae climbed onto the bed with a rare hesitance, Benedict lunged forward, grabbed him and twisted, pushing Rae into the wealth of pillows that Benedict could not simply live without.

  Stretching out alongside Rae, he pressed warm, wet kisses to whatever patches of skin he could reach. "I'm going to keep you here for days and ply you with sweets."

  "That is the most absurd thing I've heard come out of your mouth," Rae retorted, and yanked his head up. Gods, Benedict really liked the way Rae tugged on his hair. "And I've heard you say some truly ridiculous things. I don't need to be plied with sweets."

  Benedict kissed him, one hand brushing feather light over Rae's body, enjoying the delicate shivers that elicited. "Yes, do. How long have you been practically starving yourself, Rae?"

  "I don't—"

  Benedict gave him a look.

  Cheeks turning pink, cock deflating slightly, Rae said, "I told you, I'm expected to look a certain way."

  "You're my secretary, and I don't want you starving yourself. No wonder you're always so hostile." Shifting to all fours, he worked his way down Rae's body with a trail of kisses, until he reached the cock that was already hardening again. "If I'm to quit whoring, you're to quit starving. Isn't that how these things work?"

  "These things?" Rae drawled.

  Benedict ghosted a kiss over the tip of Rae's cock, then looked up. "Relationships."

  "I haven't the slightest. Mine never lasted. Something about my temper, something else about me being a possessive, jealous bastard. It's not my finest quality."

  "Which, the temper or the jealousy?" Benedict asked, and laughed when Rae playfully swatted at his hair. "But I'm serious. If we're going to try this instead of hating each other, then, well, aren't we supposed to look out for each other?"

  Rae opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally he said, "Yes, I suppose you have a point. And if I protest, I'm sure you'll just keep putting extra sugar cubes in my tea anyway. Now get to work."

  Benedict grinned, and obediently took Rae's cock into his mouth, working it with his tongue, hollowing his cheeks, steadily taking it deeper and deeper until Rae was trembling and moaning. Until he fisted Benedict's hair and fucked his mouth with delightful, ruthless abandon.

  It was strange, to be used this way—enjoyed this way. He was a prince, a seducer. People expected him to be in charge, to be the decadent beauty they'd won for the evening. A prize.

  Rae… Rae treated him like an equal.

  Benedict worked his cock until his jaw ached and his throat was raw. Finally, Rae's hand tightened in his hair, and then he was spilling down Benedict's throat, groaning his name as he came.

  When he'd finished, and his cock started to soften, Benedict drew back and wiped the worst of the come and spittle from his mouth and face with the back of one hand. He swallowed at the hot, hungry look on Rae's face. Had anyone ever looked at him like that? Benedict thought he would remember if they had.

  "I know you've probably heard this a great deal," Rae murmured, "but you are really and truly beautiful, Benedict. Especially now."

  "Now after I've sucked your cock?" Benedict asked with a grin. "This is not how I pictured my day going."

  Rae made a soft noise of agreement. "Come here."

  Benedict obeyed, and found himself pressed down into the bedding and straddled by his imperious secretary.

  "Do you have some sort of lubricant around here?"

  "Table," Benedict said, and reluctantly let go of him so Rae could fetch it.

  But it was worth the momentary sacrifice to see Rae prepare himself, skin flushed and gleaming with sweat.

  "To think we could have been using my office for more interesting things than paperwork and bickering all this time," Benedict said, then groaned as Rae took hold of his cock and slowly took him in.

  Rae somehow managed one of his damnable scowls. "We are not fucking in the office. I'm forbidding that right now."

  Benedict grinned. "You should know better than to tell me I can't do something, darling."

  To his astonishment, Rae's face turned bright red. "Shut up." He braced his hands on Benedict's chest and sank the rest of the way down his cock, then stilled, panting softly.

  Benedict wrapped his hands firmly around Rae's hips, and when Rae started to finally, finally move, kept firm hold as he matched Rae's movements, thrusting up hard and deep as Rae came down. "I want—" he groaned. "I want to bend you over my desk."

  Rae pinched and twisted one of his nipples, smirking at the moan that extracted. "It's my desk, you useless oaf. You've never used it a day in your life, I'd wager."

  Grinning, Benedict replied, "Fair enough, but I intend to use it a great deal in the future."

  "You're a spoiled brat," Rae retorted, but the words for once held no heat.

  Then they both fell silent, as Rae settled in earnest to fucking himself on Benedict's cock, the room filling with the sounds of their panting moans, Rae's breathy please for more and harder, and Benedict's hoarse cries as he complied.

  Finally Benedict could contain himself no longer, and pulled Rae down hard one last time before coming deep inside him, climax whiting out the world for one breathless moment.

  Rae groaned briefly as he pulled of Benedict's cock and rolled away.

  Benedict stilled, not quite certain what to do now.

  "What's that look for?" Rae said.

  "Normally when the, uh, fun is over, I start trying to extricate myself from whatever bed I'm in. I've never lingered unless I had to go another round. And I've never brought anyone here."

  "Hopeless," Rae said gruffly. "Royals are hopelessly stupid." He rolled back over, pres
sing up against Benedict's side. "You never brought anyone to your rooms?"

  "No. This is my space." He smiled briefly. "My nest."

  Rae smiled, all of Hunter coming to the fore. "That was foolish of you, pretty bird. Now you'll never get away from me."

  "Good," Benedict said, and met Rae's kiss.

  Scandalous

  "Highness, you're up early."

  Prince Benedict smiled and took his usual seat at the large, oval breakfast table. The barest shreds of sunlight spilled through gauzy green curtains behind him. "Rae and I are making a visit to a perfumery. What on earth has you up at such a hideous hour, Gideon?"

  The fact Benedict was up early to visit a perfumery almost made Gideon drop his tea. Just a year ago, he would have been fast asleep in the bed of some lord or lady; now he was up with sunrise to spend the day with a volatile lover. Gideon set his teacup down carefully. "I must be off home. My brother has driven off yet another tutor and I must go to interview the prospect my secretary managed to dredge up."

  Benedict laughed. "I cannot wait until your brother is of age. He will take this tired court by storm."

  "I very much doubt that even my brother could match your secretary for storms," Gideon said dryly.

  "That is true," Benedict murmured over the rim of his teacup. His eyes flicked toward the door as it opened and his eyes lit up in a way that made Gideon smile.

  He nodded politely to Rae Burroughs—Secretary to His Royal Highness, Prince Benedict, and also his lover. Their affair was as notorious as their mutual hatred had once been, and bets were running on when they would finally break up. Gideon thought they were all fools; anyone who really bothered to look could see the sparks that ever flew around Benedict and Rae were the result of a deep and steady flame.

  It made Gideon wish for someone to look at him like that. Once upon a time, he thought someone might. But that had been before his parents died, and he'd surrendered his life of fame and glamour to take care of his brother. And found to his dismay that it was the glamour his so-called friends loved, not the simple man behind it all.

  Grimacing, Gideon finished his tea and stood. "If you will pardon my hasty departure, home is a long way off and I would like to be there as soon as possible. I hope your trip to the perfumery goes well, Highness. Master Burroughs." Sketching a bow to each, for in his book, at least, Burroughs had earned it, Gideon departed. His carriage awaited him before the palace, the lanterns upon it lit and casting weak, orange light across the still dark courtyard.

  Gideon stifled a yawn and climbed inside, settling back into the seat and propping his feet on the one opposite. Draping an ermine blanket over his legs to block out the late winter chill, he rested his head against the side and dozed as well as he could.

  *~*~*

  He woke to a particularly nasty jarring, tumbling hard and knocking his head against the side of the carriage. Swearing, he untangled himself and stumbled out of the oddly tilted carriage. He grimaced. "What the bloody hell happened?"

  "Sorry, milord. The weather's been most foul since we left the city. I guess it did a turn on the roads; the wheel snapped like it was kindling." The coachman touched fingers apologetically to his hat, bowing.

  Gideon waved the apology aside. "Not your fault the weather is abysmal. How long 'til it's fixed?"

  "Oh, it'll be a couple of days, milord." He nodded past Gideon to where the footman stood waiting. "Rob will mind the coach; I'll see repairs are made. You'd best take a horse and get on your way, milord." He took a bag that Rob had taken from the broken carriage and strode over to a dark gray mare waiting restlessly nearby. Quickly, he saddled her and arranged the bag. "That's your overnight bag; should be fine until you reach Foxwood manor."

  "Right," Gideon said, glaring at the broken carriage wheel. He went to his horse, a fine mare he'd brought along to test in the country—he'd intended to ride her when the carriage became too confining. "Take care, gentlemen. If the carriage proves too great a problem, then leave it and arrange to have it sent on once repaired."

  The coachmen nodded. "Aye, milord."

  Sighing, Gideon mounted his mare and nodded farewell, then took off down the road.

  He rode for hours. Well away from the city, the population thinned to almost nothing. He passed a cottage here and there, but nothing even remotely close to a town. As the day grew later, the weather grew steadily worse; it would seem that whatever had ruined the road was returning.

  The rain finally broke just as Gideon reached town, and by the time he found the inn and got his horse stabled, he was soaked. Muttering curses, Gideon dispensed with enough silver to ensure his every comfort was quickly tended. Two hours later, he was clean, warm, and well-fed. He raked a hand through his damp hair, the deep red curls in need of a trim; but Gideon was rather fond of the unfashionable length. He'd cut it once it reached his shoulders.

  Sighing softly, Gideon settled back in his chair and closed his eyes, relishing the warmth of the fire. He hoped that his men had found the same; one bloody carriage was not worth enduring this weather.

  The sound of movement, of someone settling into the other chair before the fire in the small parlor, stirred him from the light doze into which he'd been falling. He opened his eyes and—mercy, he hoped he wasn't staring.

  The stranger was fine indeed. He was dressed simply but well, in cream superfine pants and a blue waistcoat, complementing the hair that shone like dark spun gold in the light of the lamps and flickering flames, tied neatly back in a dark ribbon to fall over one shoulder. Spectacles were perched upon a delicate nose, setting off rather than ruining that fine, winsome, pretty face. The stranger looked up and Gideon wished that there was enough light to see his eyes clearly. Would they be pale like his own gray? Darker? Brighter?

  "Good evening."

  Oh, well. Better and better. That voice burned finer than Gideon's best cognac. "Good evening, sir. Were you caught in the weather as well?"

  The man flashed a smile that made Gideon want to stare in an unseemly fashion. Truly, the man was the definition of temptation. Gideon had always prided himself on his control, but this man was rapidly weakening it. "Very nearly, sir. Luckily I came in just before it. I think I traveled in the brief few hours these rains stopped plaguing the region."

  "It was certainly much fairer in the city," Gideon replied. "Would you care for a bit of brandy?"

  A look of surprise flickered across the man's face, and then it turned into a smile. "I would indeed, sir. Thank you."

  Gideon waved the words aside and handed over his flask, nodding to the side table where the innkeeper had set out a decanter and glasses for any visiting the private parlor. "My stuff is far better than that."

  "Far better indeed," the stranger agreed, murmuring appreciatively as he took a second sip of brandy before returning the flask.

  Was it just his imagination or did those shadow-dark eyes regard him a moment too long? Did those long, slender fingers brush his accidentally or with a purpose? Gideon decided to see, even as he knew it was the height of stupidity to give in. He'd avoided such risks all of his life, not wanting to be like his parents…but this stranger was making it so very difficult to resist. "You may keep it a moment longer," he said, holding the flask lightly, not quite letting the stranger hand it back, "if you'll give me a name instead. I will even offer mine—it is Gideon."

  "My name?" the man asked with a soft smile. "A small price to pay. Tem, sir, is what most call me."

  Gideon slowly let his fingers fall away from the flask, dusting across Tem's. He leaned forward slightly in his seat. "Perhaps I should have demanded more."

  Tem took another sip of brandy, and as he lowered the flask, his tongue flicked out to lick traces from his lips. Gideon wanted to be the one licking those full lips. "Well, a mere name hardly seems fair for such excellent brandy. It would be perfectly fair to demand more."

  Heat poured through him, as though the fire were in his veins and not the hearth. Gideon should not do
this, but he could not more resist than stop breathing. "It is indeed an excellent brandy. I would like to taste it on your lips."

  "A fair price." Tem immediately rose, setting the flask down on the table before standing in front of Gideon, bracing his hands on the armrests of his chair and leaning down to cover Gideon's mouth with his.

  The effect was immediate, hot and consuming. Gideon felt drugged by the kiss, moaning at the taste of brandy on Tem's tongue. Tem was not hesitant in the slightest, taking possession of Gideon's mouth and making it hard for him to think, never mind breathe. When the need for air finally forced them apart, Gideon resented it wholly. He stared up at Tem, noting immediately that the man's eyes were a rich, gold-touched brown. Beautiful. With a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a moan, he reached up to take another kiss. Tem offered no protest, merely succeeding again in rendering thought and breathing impossible.

  When they broke apart a second time, Gideon realized that his hands had moved to Tem's shoulders. He watched as though from a distance as his hands slid down Tem's chest, unfastening the dark blue velvet coat and slipping inside to stroke the skin beneath warmed lawn. Questing fingers brushed across hardened nipples and Tem's head dipped as he moaned. Gideon had never heard a finer sound and he wanted to hear it again. When had he last been this taken by anyone? Even the most talented boys in the city did not affect him so.

  Gideon reached up again to plant a hard, hungry kiss on Tem's mouth, biting down on that edible lower lip and locking eyes as he pulled away. "Come upstairs with me."

  Tem's eyes flared. He flashed one of those deadly smiles and shifted so that his weight was on his knees, braced on the seat on either side of Gideon's legs. Hands free, he mimicked what Gideon had done to him just moments ago, dipping his head to nip lightly at a bared bit of throat and pressing his lips softly along his jaw before taking a quick, searing kiss. Growling low, Gideon wrapped his arms tightly around Tem's waist and yanked him close, devouring his mouth as though Tem were a feast to ease his hunger. Arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, Tem returning the ravenous kiss full measure.