There is a mature section of this chapter. It will start with a “***” and go to the end of the chapter. If you are uncomfortable with mature content, I will summarize what you missed in that section under the notes.
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Butterflies had been gnawing at Bran’s stomach all day. His shaky hands caused him to spill tea on Beatrice twice during their lunchtime meal, earning him a severe scolding. He couldn't care less, his mind was elsewhere. He talked through every possible outcome with Isabella, but still felt amazingly ill prepared for the task before him.
Best case scenario, Rowan continued to accept him for who he was and their relationship moved forward. Hopefully, towards something romantic. Worst case scenario, he was hanged for lying to royalty. His muscles tensed at the latter, but he felt it was highly unlikely. If he’d learned anything over the past few months, it was that Rowan’s compassionate nature was his most prominent quality. He would understand. He needed to understand.
He had planned to meet Rowan by the lake at sundown. The sky was dusky and orange when Bran arrived. The prince had already beaten him there, and his mouth went dry at the sight.
Rowan had lit candles and gathered a small spread of fruit (mainly apricots) and cheeses. The embankment he was lounging on was dusted with lavender buds that had yet to bloom. Despite being seedlings, their sweet fragrance still clung to the air. Or maybe it was Rowan’s cologne. Citrusy and floral, bright and sweet like his gentle heart.
He thought back to their first time at this lake together, when Rowan had escaped a party to find him swimming. His feelings had evolved so much over the past few months. At the time, Bran had written the prince off as selfish and uncaring, when in reality he was uninformed and still healing from a wounded heart.
Though his optimism was sometimes frustrating, Rowan’s hope for the kingdom, and the goodness he managed to see in people, was ultimately inspiring. It made Bran believe that maybe there was some good in the world, and that maybe they could make a change if they worked together.
Rowan’s smile rivaled the sun when he saw him on the horizon. “Bran!” he called out excitedly, waving an arm in the air. “I’m so happy you made it. Come, sit here.” The blonde gestured to the cushy blanket he was laying on. “Please, have something to eat.”
Bran’s appetite was non-existent, as his stomach was busy doing backflips and somersaults. “Uh, maybe later.”
Rowan shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He moved towards the picnic basket he had brought. “Would you judge me if I opened a bottle of wine?”
“I would, but I think you’d like the verdict,” he replied cheekily. Maybe the alcohol would loosen his tongue and give him a modicum of courage. Now that the prince was before him, he realized he could benefit from additional courage.
Rowan just laughed and poured him a glass.
“Any specific reason you wanted to meet here?” Bran asked, taking his first sip.
The blonde nodded enthusiastically. “Star gazing! It’s been ages since I’ve been. I thought I could point out some of my favorite constellations to you.”
“That sounds lovely,” Bran agreed.
They made idle conversation until the sky darked to a deep navy. White and yellow specks light littered the sky. It reminded him of a baby's breath, blooming proudly for the world to see.
Rowan started pointing eagerly as soon as they were in view. Bran loved listening to him ramble about their meanings. He also loved teasing Rowan about how far fetched the shapes were. Really? That’s supposed to be a lion?
“Which is your absolute favorite?” Bran asked.
“Oh, the best has to be Corona Borealis.”
The halfling chuckled. “The Northern Crown? Isn’t that a bit on the nose?”
“It’s not because of that,” Rowan protested indignantly. “It's because it actually has a nice story that goes around it. A lot of constellations represent selfish, awful people, or glorify chaotic Greek Gods. I find it refreshing.”
“Would you care to share this nice story with me?”
Rowan turned towards him excitedly. “The Corona Borealis is about Ariadne the Princess of Crete. See, she falls in love with Theseus, the Prince of Athens who she thinks is this great guy. He’s handsome, strong, ready to kill a minotaur, and all that. Well, Ariadne knows that everyone who's gone into this labyrinth to kill the minotaur has died, so she gives him a magic ball of thread so he can find his way out again.”
“How helpful, that is a nice story,” Bran hummed.
“Well, I’m not done yet. So, she saves this guy's life and he says he loves her and whisks her away until he decides to abandon her on the island of Naxos while she’s sleeping.”
Bran blanched. “And this story is your favorite?”
“I'm not finished,” Rowan laughed before continuing. “So she’s there crying because she’s just been ditched by this guy who she thought loved her, but she manages to attract the attention of Dionysus.”
“The God of Wine.”
“The one and only! He immediately realizes how beautiful she is and decides to woo her. He tells her not to be upset by some mortal when there’s a literal God that loves her. They get married and she’s so happy that she throws her crown up in the air from excitement. She threw it so high it got caught in the stars. Whenever they look up they get to be reminded of their happiness and how good their lives are.”
“So they lived happily ever after,” Bran hummed. “That is lovely. I can’t seem to find the constellation though.”
“Here,” Rowan scooted over and grabbed Bran’s hand. Rowan pointed their intertwined fingers upwards and moved their faces close together as he traced the shape in the sky. “It looks like C.”
“Ah yes, not as bright as the others, but the mythology makes up for it,” he said breathily. He could feel the flush running up his cheeks. They were so close to each other.
Rowan turned to look at him, their noses inches apart. Bran’s entire body felt hot and flushed as the prince opened his mouth to speak.
“You know, this is where I knew you were special, after first meeting you here.” He propped himself up on one elbow. “Bran, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Bran could do little more than watch the hurried rise and fall of Rowan’s chest as he spoke, “I-,” he swallowed, shaking his head. “I... think that this might be the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.”
“Is that so?” Bran’s body felt warm from the wine, and something else. Something he was scared to name.
“It’s because, because you're my best friend and I-”
Before he could finish that sentence, Bran leaned forward, he hesitated for a moment then used a shaky hand to cup the prince’s jaw. Rowan’s heavy breaths were tickling his fingers as he leaned forward to bridge the gap between them. Rowan gave out a surprised gasp when their lips touched.
Bran pulled away at the noise and jolted upwards in a fit of panic. “I’m sorry, I’ve overstepped, this obviously isn’t what you-”
Rowan’s eyes were filled with fire as he tugged his clothing, pulling him closer. “Oh, but it is. You have no idea.”
****
Bran was shaking so severely he didn’t realize that Rowan was as well. Rowan tasted like wine and Bran chased after the sweetness as he went in for another kiss. It started chaste, but became increasingly desperate. He tugged at Rowan’s bottom lip with is teeth, eliciting a moaned yessssss and Rowan’s warm, soft hands were on him, running over his body, lifting the hem of his shirt, and thumbing his nipples.
“Please,” Rowan’s voice trembled, but was filled with want. “I know I’m not that experienced, but I want you. Please let me...”
How could Bran say no to that? He nodded, giving him permission to remove his tunic fully. Rowan’s mouth went slack as he stared at the man before him, his eyes filled with nothing but trust and undisguised affection.
Bran felt like the most precious creature on earth.
Rowan rolled over and began to straddle him. Bran could feel the heat of him through his britches and moaned as he ground against him. He could feel the prince was also hard as their cocks rubbed against each other. The friction alone made him whimper.
Oh dear God, he wants this, he wants me.
“Is this ok? Can I keep going?” he asked tenderly. Bran thought back to all the sultry rumors about Rowan. That he was a sex addict. That he abused his power for intercourse. They couldn’t be more wrong.
In the back of his mind, the halfing knew he should feel conflicted, he hadn’t confessed his full nature just yet, but how could he stop now? The fire blazing in his stomach was all consuming, running through every nerve in his body. His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Yes, please don’t stop.”
-
Rowan moved to his knees ready to worship the man he loved; the king of his heart. He took his time, moving over the ivory skin of Bran’s lithe thighs as he pulled down his britches and allowed his cock to spring free. It was thick and flushed and beautiful. He wanted Bran to feel precious, for him to know that every moment was being savored. Their titles didn’t matter. They were just two men who cared deeply for each other. Rowan was so in love he could barely stand it.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered, before running his tongue over the inside of his hip. He nipped at the skin on his sharp hip bone. Bran shivered and let out a small sob. The sound was beautiful. It was like music. Better than any symphony he’d ever heard, and he knew he wanted to listen for the rest of his life.
Bran was erect and leaking for him. Rowan ran his tongue along his length before taking him into his mouth. As if on instinct, Bran grabbed his hair with force.
Rowan relished the weight of him on his tongue. Finally. He knew that the universe should feel big and important while staring at a sky full of stars, but it paled in comparison to the man that was staring down at him, searching his face.
Bran moaned and Rowan quickened, eager to please. Yes, please want this. He looked back at the stars and made the same wish on each one. Bran’s thrusts into his mouth became erratic, “I’m g..going t..to”. Rowan gave one last suck and swallowed the bitter salt and heat that flooded his mouth. Bran was gasping as his body spasmed.
His muscles relaxed as he laid back, eyes taking on a dreamy quality.
“What are you thinking?” Rowan asked.
“That I can’t believe I just got sucked off by the crowned Prince of Gallan.”
“And it was good?” he asked nervously. He had only ever been with one person before Bran. Damien had seemed to enjoy this, but he knew everyone was different. Bran was experienced. It didn’t bother Rowan, but it did make him slightly more self-conscious.
“Better than good. The best.”
Rowan sighed with relief, before focusing on his own painful erection. Bran seemed to notice and took action immediately.
Soon, he was untying his britches and running a smooth, hot palm up his soft abdomen and hips. His blue eyes stared deeply into him. He ran his thumb over his slit, smearing pre-cum down his shaft.
Bran pulled his hand away to spit in his palm, then he began to stroke Rowan’s cock in earnest. The prince thrusted helplessly up into Bran’s grasp. Rowan wished he had brought some oil. The thought of Bran filling him up, claiming him as his own, caused his heart (and cock) to swell.
“You are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” Bran breathed reverently. “You beautiful man, come for me." It didn't take long. After watching Bran come undone, he was nearly ready to explode. Rowan found his release, calling Bran’s name.
Bran’s lips brushed against his temple as he finished, kissing the sweat that had beaded there. They held each other giving sloppy kisses that were salty and wet and desperate. Their chests were heaving and bodies felt warm despite the chill that was settling over the air.
Rowan’s eyes fluttered shut. Bran cast a lazy gaze around the lake and realized all of the lavender plants were now blooming, just like his heart.
“You really are perfect,” he whispered as the prince fell asleep on his chest.
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