Authors: Rachael Eyre
“Funny name.”
“All names are funny when you think about them. Rollo was the sort of person you’d never cast as a romantic hero: sweet and gangly, not too bright. Perhaps if he’d been sharper the story might’ve ended differently.
Since the de Wildings kept to themselves, he’d no idea the country was looking for a runaway queen. He was on a moonlit stroll, minding his own biz, when he fell over a young woman. She was lying in the middle of the road, half dead. He picked her up, brought her to the tunnels and fetched things from the house. He did all that before he had a look at her face.
Once he had - come on, he was a growing lad, she was a comely lass, what do you think happened? Love at first sight, or its gawky second cousin. I don’t believe in it, personally.”
“Didn’t you feel something when we met?”
“You were infuriating -”
“Huh!”
“- but damned attractive. Where was I? Rollo and Rosaline. By that time she’d come round. I wish I could say it was mutual. She saw this sweet, unworldly youth, waiting on her hand and foot. She felt sorry for him, she liked him, but love? Never.
She realised the best way to protect herself was to lie. While she knew within ten seconds he wasn’t vicious, there was no knowing how other people might act. She spoke like the innkeeper’s daughter she’d been two years ago, said she’d got lost and she needed to rest. Could she stay here? Of course he agreed. She was at the end of her strength with a sprained ankle. She wasn’t going anywhere.
No boy kept a secret more faithfully. He fetched and carried, nursed and talked to her for two months. Did he suspect her true identity? The search had reached Langre - that’s what Langton was called in those days. He must have thought
something
. He never let on.
Rosaline loved art. Looking around these dreary walls made her depressed, so she asked Rollo if he could bring some materials to decorate them. She’d all the time she could want; she might as well use it constructively. He came down a few hours a day to help. Poor Rollo! If you love somebody and can’t tell them, they might as well be on the other side of the world.”
“I know how that feels.”
“Me too.”
They were quiet for a moment, hands touching. Alfred resumed the story. “They reached the last stretch - they were so happy -”
“Somebody turned them in, didn’t they?”
“What did you expect? Humans are bastards. They’d noticed his suspicious behaviour, the disappearing materials, and reported it. Dunstan, never one to miss a dramatic gesture, showed up with the army. They crashed into the tunnel, finding the pair painting the walls. Rosaline went white but kept her dignity. Rollo tried to square up to him.
‘Turned to cradle robbing?’ Dunstan jeered. Rosaline said it to save him, but how it must’ve hurt: ‘He’s only a boy. I could never love him.’ Rollo gazed at her, she asked for his forgiveness. Dunstan snatched her up and rode off. They never saw each other again.
The official story was she’d been abducted and slept with her kidnapper. While she died a queen, Rollo suffered a traitor’s death. Dunstan said our line deserved to be cursed. Her name was the last thing he said before the hangman broke his legs.”
“Why did you tell me that?” Josh asked. “Couldn’t you give them a happy ending?”
“You can’t change facts.”
“Do you think they might’ve fallen in love if they’d more time?”
“I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”
“Of course I’m romantic! I want to be loved. Alright, I used to think a kiss was a sort of cake -”
“Cake?” Alfred was baffled. “You’ve lost me.”
“Mandy used to leave these books in the lab, mushy stuff about men called Gabriel and women called Sheridan, or was it the other way round? People were always giving each other kisses, stealing kisses, wanting a kiss -”
Alfred burst out laughing. “What about when they kissed? Excessive mutual cake?”
“I never understood why they seemed to get naked afterwards. Too many crumbs? Robots rub noses.”
Alfred rubbed his nose against his. “Doesn’t do anything for me.”
“Me neither. I’m a freak.”
“The loveliest I know. So, what
do
you prefer? Cake or kissing?”
“I like a nice cheesecake as much as the next person, but cake can’t do this.”
Josh stood on tiptoe and gave Alfred a long, slow kiss. His lips parted. Their tongues sought one another, grew more urgent. He bit Alfred’s tongue and he groaned, lifting Josh so he was pressed against the wall. The artificial curled his arms and legs around him.
“Alfred?”
“Yes?”
“Can we - get close?”
He’d never seen Alfred so unsettled. He was like a bashful teenager. “Are you sure? I was going to hold off till you were ready.”
“I’ve never been readier in my life. I want you inside me.”
Alfred’s growl went straight to Josh’s groin. “What the hell. I can’t fight this.”
“If we’re going to be prosecuted for immoral acts, let’s commit some.”
“You’re very determined, aren’t you?”
“But not in here.”
The light above them sputtered and went out. They stared at one another. The lamps lining the walls went off in quick succession, first the left side, then the right.
“What the -?”
A cold wind was rising. Josh shivered. He was sure that if he listened closely he could make out words. “Was it this sort of thing you were scared of?”
“No.” That’s when Josh began to worry. Alfred was struggling to keep his voice level; Alfred who was never afraid. He buckled as the floor lurched beneath his feet.
“That’s enough!” he roared. Josh felt his pulse beneath his cheek. “Hold tight. We’re going to run for it.”
“What is it?”
“A hex? Ancient burglar alarm? Could be anything in this nutty place. Don’t touch anything.”
There are few things as disorienting as belting down a malevolent tunnel in pitch darkness. Josh offered to step down, make it easier, but Alfred refused. “The floor’s rolling. You’d never make it.”
“Thanks!”
“Like I said, don’t touch the walls. Don’t even think about it.”
Now of course he wanted to, and craned to look behind. Alfred kicked the wall in front of him. Josh thought he’d flipped but it swung to reveal the minstrel gallery.
“How did you know?”
“Lucky guess?”
They ran their fingers over each other. Alfred was beaded with sweat. His heartbeat ratcheted. He set Josh on his feet. “Give us a hand.”
They manhandled the bear everyone used as an umbrella stand, shifting it across the floor. Alfred planted it on top of the panel, rubbed his hands and stepped back. “That’ll do. We’ll get it walled up tomorrow.”
“What about an exorcism?” Josh suggested.
“Another nice, family friendly day.”
“I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Alfred winked. “How
would
you have me?”
Josh was practically mounting him before Alfred decided this wasn’t seemly in a public area. “There must be a room going spare. C’mon.”
It was a bedroom neither had been in before, with velvet coverings and exotic rugs. Alfred checked under the bed and in the wardrobes. Satisfied there weren’t any papbats in residence, he began to light the candles. When one failed to catch a third time, Josh went to help. “You’re trembling,” he said.
“I’m nervous.”
“Don’t you want to?”
“More than anything. It’s just - there’s no going back. You won’t be able to deny it in court.”
“I wouldn’t want to. Is it really so different from the other things we’ve done?”
Alfred considered. “From a legal point of view, yes. They’d say that was warming up.”
“Relationships are a warm up to sex?”
“More or less.”
“I feel sorry for them.” Josh stroked Alfred’s hair. “Is this a warm up, or nice for its own sake?”
“Hmm.”
They finished lighting the candles and lay on the bed. They took their time, undressing each other and talking it through.
“I wish you could be my first,” Josh grumbled.
“I was, technically speaking. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Virgins are hopeless.”
“How many men have you slept with?”
Alfred soon lost count. “Ninety three? Five? Ninety
something
.”
“Oh.”
Alfred patted his shoulder. “Don’t look like that. Nobody who counted.”
“You’re not just being kind?”
“Of course not.”
“I wish I knew more. You’re the only person I’ve been with, other than Claire.”
“Aren’t you the contradictory engine! You can’t be both.”
Josh ducked beneath the covers. Alfred groaned and held his head.
“Nobody needs to teach you how to do
that
.”
Josh had never been sure where to place sex in the grand scheme of things. If he didn’t think it was messy and unworthy of the hype, he assumed it was a sacred act. Now he thirsted for it. He found himself asking Alfred to do things he’d never have believed he could say aloud.
“Will you?” he whispered.
“It hurts when you’re not used to it. You might not like it.”
“You worry too much.”
“Somebody’s got to.”
“If I tell you something, do you promise not to laugh?”
“Depends what it is.”
“I thought we’d invented it in the factory. I didn’t know everyone did it.”
Alfred broke his promise but grinned apologetically. “Gods, I love you. Don’t change.”
He got up and started to rummage in the drawer. “Fuck, I’ll have to go upstairs. - No, here we go.” Now he seemed to be jiggling with himself. Who knew why.
“What
are
you doing?”
“Putting protection on.”
“Protection from what?”
“Disease and suchlike.”
“
I’m
not diseased. Are you?”
“No, but it’s polite.”
Josh plucked it off. “I want to feel
you
, not some random stuff.”
“You’re weird.”
“You fancy weird.”
“That’s true.”
Josh gasped as Alfred applied the cool gel and slid his fingers into him. He hated to think what faces he must be making. The noises were bad enough. Stroking inside, fingers curling - he almost didn’t want Alfred to stop, wanted him to bring him to climax with wet fingertips.
“May I?”
“Oh, yes. Don’t hold back.”
Distracting him with a slow, leisurely hand job, it wasn’t long before Alfred was inside him, all the way up. It was unsettling, like being turned inside out. He wound his arms around Josh’s waist.
“Do you want me to - ?”
“
Please
.”
The fingers hadn’t prepared him. Having someone move above you, inside you, was extraordinary. He couldn’t speak, could barely think.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Alfred asked anxiously.
“It’s nice. Strange but nice. I see where the expression ‘Stings like buggery’ comes from.”
“You toad!”
Alfred picked up pace. Josh opened to him, took him in deeper. Another wave washed over him and he gave himself up to sensation. Hands caressed his back, Alfred’s tongue glided over his throat and chest. Long languid thrusts followed by swift vigorous ones - Josh wasn’t sure which he preferred. Pleasure rippled through him, down to his toes; he curled and uncurled them. He was making embarrassing noises but it didn’t put Alfred off.
Being with someone. The closeness of their body, the sound of their breathing. Burying your head in their hair, their smell. Your heartbeat keeping time with theirs. During sex you see someone as they truly are: no blindfolds, no illusions. The world who knew him as Lord Langton the disaster area, Alfred Wilding the adventurer, wouldn’t have recognised him. He was dazed, vulnerable, looking at Josh with a love so bright it hurt.
“You’re wonderful,” he whispered.
“I’m nothing special.”
“I beg to differ.”
As Josh felt Alfred stiffen and his insides grow hot and wet, he felt an answering beat in himself. They cried out together.
“I love you, lad.” Tears shone in the blue eyes.
“I love you too.”
Josh was adorable asleep: colour high, one arm flung out, forehead creased. Alfred bent over him and, eyes shut, traced his face with his fingers. Eyebrows that always looked surprised, dainty ears, snub nose. Cheekbones you could cut diamonds on, that menace of a mouth, the dimpled chin. “That tickles,” Josh murmured.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t you get fed up looking at me?”