Chapter 40
The king kissed hungrily. One hand clung to Draco’s chest, the other started at his knee but quickly trailed over his cotton hose to wrap around the sensitive skin on the back of Draco’s thigh. His fingers teased at the edge of Draco’s breeches, tantalizingly close to places that would be more pleasurable to grip and caress. Draco moaned into the king’s mouth, before quickly losing patience with the teasing.
Draco rolled over to climb closer until he crawled onto the king’s lap to straddle the other man. The king chuckled underneath him. He was all grins and it made something flutter in Draco’s chest to see the other man so pleased. It was probably a mistake, letting this happen. Draco should run away and end it, to protect both of them from whatever fallout must be coming. Only, the king’s grin had softened into a smile, and he had wrapped both hands around Draco’s waist to hold him close. The fluttering inside Draco intensified and instead of running he leaned in again, capturing the king’s lips in another kiss.
The king clung to Draco. One strong hand had slipped from his waist down further to his rump where he squeezed Draco’s ass and ground Draco down against him. Draco could feel the king’s arousal matching his own and he moaned again. It just felt so good. It couldn’t be too bad, letting himself feel this good.
They were so lost in the sensation of touching each other that both men missed the creak of the door opening, until it hit the wall with a bang. Draco tore himself away at the noise. People were pouring into the room, with a full view of the entangled men on the floor. Several among them laughed as Draco jumped back and off the king’s lap, flopping inelegantly to the floor.
The king made a soft noise of protest when Draco pulled away, uncaring of the audience who discovered them. His lidded gaze was only for Draco. He was watching so closely it would have been impossible not to tell that Draco was uncomfortable. So the king stood up, discreetly adjusting himself as he did so. He held out a hand to the younger man and helped him back onto his feet before intentionally standing between Draco and everyone else to half hide him from view.
Draco noticed the privacy he’d been granted and with eyes off him he felt like he could breathe. He gave himself a moment to calm down and stop his heart from racing, only then remembering to swoop down and pick up his cloak and handkerchief. Then he tilted sideways so he could see. What he saw were dozens of people streaming into the observatory from the staircase. The room was soon so full that King Harry and Draco were lost among a crowd of people, most of which had never seen the two canoodling. The king took a half step backwards to make space, at the same time Draco stepped forward to be closer to him. They bumped together, but instead of springing apart, Draco slipped his free arm around the king’s waist and hid his face against his back. It would still be wiser to run away, but Draco stood there, taking deliberate breaths, feeling more comforted by the other man’s solid presence then he would be with the sea of strangers.
“Distinguished guests, the final stamp awaits,” a woman called out in a sing-song voice. Draco looked up. He was tall enough he could rest his head on the king’s shoulder. What he saw was a slim woman dressed in black trousers and blouse, with a hand knitted shawl around her shoulders made of white, green and pink yarn. Her mask was matching waves of green and white. She recited to the room, “My hands are just as important as my face, and I'm not one to sit still. What am I?”
“A clock,” Draco whispered into the king’s ear while the other guests scrambled to solve the riddle and find the final stamp. King Harry’s whole body rumbled in laughter.
King Harry reached down to grab the hand Draco had wrapped around him. “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested as he pulled Draco forward towards the door. The two slipped out of the room without further notice.
Of course, the guards didn’t stop King Harry. He and Draco jogged down the stairs before immediately leaving the marked path. The longer Draco followed the king, the harder his heart pounded. For the first time tonight the castle felt too large, the rooms too far away from each other. He tried to focus only on the king in front of him, who walked with deliberate confidence that told Draco the destination could not be too far.
Of course, Draco recognized the room they entered. The king’s solar was a private chamber for quiet use. It had a large fireplace, already lit, which warmed and illuminated the room. The king paused just inside, turning back to Draco to gently cup his face once more. This time, King Harry’s kiss was gentle. Draco tried to push forward and deepen it, but King Harry held him back until Draco gave in and accepted the king’s tantalizingly soft menstrations. The kiss built slowly, with small flickers of tongue and nibbles on lips. Each time Draco pushed for faster, the king slowed more, until Draco whimpered and rubbed his entire body against the other man, desperate for more sensation.
The king pulled away with a moan, his hooded eyes devouring the sight of Draco, all eager and wanton. King Harry took Draco by the waist again and began to walk backwards, pulling Draco further into the room. Draco tried to be patient, but it was hard when the king’s intense gaze focused on Draco alone. So Draco lunged forward, wrapping his arms around the older man and smothering him in the deeper kiss he’d longed for.
King Harry gave in. He kissed Draco with all the ferocity Draco gave to him, one hand carding through Draco’s hair before gripping it and pulling Draco’s head backwards. The king’s kisses trailed over Draco’s chin, down to his neck, until King Harry’s teeth grazed his sensitive skin and he sucked over Draco’s pulse point.
“No marks,” Draco gasped out.
The king groaned into his neck. “It’ll feel good.” His voice was raspy with desire.
Draco knew it would. “No marks,” he said anyway. “It was a bitch to hide them last time.”
The king’s teeth scraped over Draco’s neck again. “So don’t hide them. I want everyone to see.”
Heat shot through Draco, and if it was possible he grew even more aroused. The king’s possessiveness an unexpected kink. Draco’s hips bucked to meet the king, grinding against him to further the sensation. He said anyway, “No marks. You said whatever I want.”
The king pulled his head back from Draco’s neck, resting it against the puff of sleeve on Draco’s shoulder. “Okay.” He was panting, as if it took great effort to restrain himself. “We’ll do something else.” Both his hands slid under Draco’s thighs and suddenly lifted, pulling Draco up into the air. Draco yelped as he wrapped both legs around the king instinctively, still dropping the cloak and handkerchief in surprise. This was clearly what King Harry had wanted, since he immediately carried Draco across the room before tossing him down onto a giant bed.
He was in the king’s bed, in the king’s private chamber, in the king’s castle, where the king was staring down at him as if he could devour Draco whole. King Harry held Draco’s gaze as he pulled off his pea coat and tossed it aside. The king crawled onto the bed after him until he loomed over Draco, his gaze promising wicked and pleasurable things.
King Harry slid his hands across Draco’s chest, reaching behind him to find whatever cords needed be untied to release his doublet. “How do you want it?” he asked, at the same time he untied the bindings holding Draco’s outwear tight. Draco let him pull off the outer layer.
“However you want,” Draco answered, not certain that was the truth but also distracted by the king’s nimble fingers untying his corset.
“Hmmmm,” the king murmured thoughtfully. He licked his lips as he pulled off another layer. “Why do you have so many clothes?” The question was playful, but also sincere. The layers Draco had worn to hide himself were noticed.
Draco grabbed for the king’s hands and pulled them off Draco’s body before the king could shed all of Draco’s clothes. Draco tried to distract from the action by reaching next for the king’s trousers, loosening their ties. “Take them off,” he commanded.
The king grinned as he obeyed. He also peeled off his shirt, leaving his broad chest bare so Draco could oogle his muscles. Draco hesitated, but then realized he didn’t have to and so reached out a hand to touch the king. The king made an encouraging noise before returning to Draco’s clothing, now working on the ties keeping his breeches closed. He tugged them loose and tossed them aside to be lost in the dark corners of the room.
The king paused then to rake his eyes over Draco’s body. Draco wore only his undershirt and tight undergarment, as well as the cotton hose still secured to his shirt with ribbons. King Harry’s hands twitched before they reached out to touch Draco’s legs. He rubbed his thumbs over the cotton hose, enjoying their feel over Draco’s tight muscles.
“You’re beautiful,” King Harry said. Draco felt the blush rise over him and looked away. Slowly, the king leaned forward until he rested with an arm on either side of Draco’s head. He nosed along Draco’s jaw, kissing each piece of skin he encountered. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered directly into Draco’s ear. Draco couldn’t suppress a shiver. King Harry propped his weight on one arm so he could reach out again to Draco, gently pulling his face back to face the king so King Harry could capture his lips in another kiss. It was warm and lovely and perfect. The king rested his forehead against Draco’s when he pulled away. “I want to fuck you,” he said without the slightest shred of embarrassment.
Draco’s face flushed again. “I…” he didn’t know what to say.
The king kissed him again briefly. “It’s okay if you’d rather,” he amended swiftly.
The shake of Draco’s head was almost imperceptible. “That’s not, it’s not…” he still didn’t have words. “I just… I haven’t…”
The king grazed his cheek with his thumb, soothing. “We can do whatever you want,” he reminded.
Draco jerked a nod. “Right, right. Yeah. I think I want to…” he gulped, looking anywhere but at the king above him. “I just haven’t…”
Recognition finally sparked in the king’s eyes. “You haven’t done this before?”
Draco jerked his head in another nod, too embarrassed to speak.
“Never?” The king asked, although his tone had shifted to something gravely and eager. He didn’t wait for Draco to clarify before he was once again kissing at Draco’s chin, his free hand carding through Draco’s hair, flexing as if he wanted to pull it taunt. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it good for you.”
It drove Draco wild to be so desired. Draco bit his lip and groaned, arching his back so he could feel the man above him. The king groaned in turn, then pulled back just enough he could continue undressing Draco. Draco was only thinking about how eager, and nervous, he was for this to happen. He didn’t remember to think about what was happening to get there. The king was untying his stockings, then pulling them down off his legs along with Draco’s underpants. Draco’s cock popped out and stood at attention, gaining the attention of the king, who paused briefly to stroke it firmly until Draco’s eyes rolled back and he arched up again into the sensation. It was understandable, then, that Draco didn’t think to stop the king from pulling off his final undershirt. He didn’t remember why he should have until the king stopped entirely, his eyes locked on Draco’s stomach.
Draco knew what it looked like, but he hated to look. The sword slashes had cut deeply, deep enough it was a miracle Draco survived at all. That miracle hadn’t saved him from the scarring. Draco tried to reach for his undershirt back so he could cover back up.
“Wait, no, it’s okay,” the king was saying, even as he let Draco take the shirt from him. Draco was stumbling to find the right hole to push his head through when the king rested his hands back over Draco’s. “Please, don’t worry about this. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. You’re beautiful and I want to see you just as you are.”
Draco’s laugh was maniacal. There was no reason the king would recognize his marks on Draco’s body, but Draco knew them for what they were. Guilt ripped through him. He shouldn’t be here, letting the king touch him without King Harry knowing the man he was touching was someone he despised enough to kill. “I’m not,” he insisted, still clutching his shirt.
“Of course you are,” the king said, nuzzling against him. Draco felt sick. And also, each gentle touch soothed his nerves. It felt like taking advantage.
“You wouldn’t think so if you knew who I was,” Draco whispered.
At that, the king sighed. He wrapped an arm around Draco and leaned his head once again on Draco’s shoulder. “Please, just tell me,” he asked.
Draco should. Of course he should. But he couldn’t. It felt so warm being held in someone’s arms and he couldn’t ruin this. If he spoke the truth that would be the end of it. It would be worse than if any of this had never happened. He’d have to live the rest of his life seeing how much the king reviled him for his trickery, and he couldn’t live like that. So he stayed silent.
The king sighed again, squeezing him closer. “What can I say to make you trust me?” he asked.
Draco stared past him, looking into the fire instead. He blinked at the light, not for any other reason like holding back tears. “It’s not you,” Draco finally said, even though it might have been, just a little. The king was like two different people, the real king and the masquerade man. Draco could only trust the one who knew him as Draco Malfoy, since Draco knew that king would never let Draco forget exactly where he stood in the king’s eyes. Draco looked towards the door, wondering how hard it would be to run.
The king sensed it. “I’ll do anything you want. Just be here with me,” he implored.
Draco closed his eyes, trying to block out the king’s words, and his warm body, and his gentle hands. “It’s better if I go.”
The king tightened his grip for a moment, then forced himself to relax his arms so they’d fall away. Draco could still feel the tension in the king’s body beside him, but the king wouldn’t stop him if he wanted to leave.
But King Harry wasn’t ready to give up. He said one final thing to try to break through to Draco.
“Marry me.”
“What?” Draco asked, certain he’d misheard.
“Marry me,” the king repeated.
Draco’s eyes were comically wide. “You can’t mean that.”
“I do,” insisted the king.
“You don't know who I am,” Draco argued.
“I’ll have a lifetime to find out.”
Draco was shaking his head. “You wouldn’t propose to me.”
“I already have.”
“You wouldn’t like me,” Draco sounded like he was begging and pleading to be understood.
The king’s gentle gaze held Draco’s firm, but didn’t give in. “I don’t like anyone, so you’re not as bad a prospect as you think you are.”
Draco’s groan this time was from frustration instead of lust. “Why would you ever propose to a complete stranger? This is madness.”
The king risked taking Draco’s hand back in his. “I made the chapel trap on purpose,” he admitted. Draco gasped, although that shouldn’t have been as shocking after the recent more astounding demands. “I’ve been pressured to find a husband, and there are plenty of men who’d jump at the chance. So, I gave every eligible gentleman the chance to show me what choice they’d make under pressure. Nearly two dozen left without questioning their decision. At least one deliberately sabotaged everyone behind him, even though he already would come out ahead. You were the only one who rejected the conceit that you had to choose yourself above everyone else. You kept looking until you found another way.” He carded his hand through Draco’s hair again, as if he couldn’t resist touching him. “That’s the sort of man I want by my side. So marry me.”
Draco’s jaw had fallen open. His head was buzzing with thoughts about this revelation. He should have known, and also how could he have known. He hadn’t made any decision tonight with the king in mind, but still every choice he’d made was exactly what the king had been looking for.
Still, King Harry’s hand holding Draco’s, the king’s hand in Draco’s hair, the king’s body warming Draco’s nakedness, it all was still a lie. The king didn’t know, and Draco couldn’t bear to tell him.
Draco didn’t realize he was shaking his head until the king pulled away.
“I can’t,” Draco said, his voice pleading. “Not like this, I can’t.”
King Harry looked crestfallen. “How then?” he asked, still not giving up.
Draco swallowed, nerves crashing through him even as the idea formed in his mind. “I could only ever say yes if you proposed to the real me.”
The king surged forward with hope, taking both of Draco’s hands back in his own. “How do I find you?” he asked.
Draco shook his head again. “You don’t.” He ignored the king’s pained sound, and the hurt look in his bright green eyes. Draco ignored everything as he pulled away. He grasped for his clothing, gathering up handfuls of embroidered clothes off the floor.
“Don’t go!” The king begged, even as Draco walked out the door.