Chapter Text
He’s not ready to be King.
Yet that does not stop the inauguration or the placing of the weighty crown on his head, his selfish desires mean nothing in the face of a kingdom that has just lost their King. They require stability and order and that is why he is instilled as King mere days after his Father’s passing, quickly changing from mourning black robes to his stunning green robes as he’s named the new King of Portugal.
His mother watches on with tear-filled eyes clutching a satin handkerchief in her hand, thoroughly soaked with her tears, both of happiness and sadness.
After proclaiming his allegiance and undying loyalty to his Kingdom and their subjects, he joins hands with all the members of court and he is named their new King and he can physically feel the weight of Kingship on his broad shoulders.
He’s not ready to be King.
His mother is the first to approach him following the extravagant ceremony and he is sufficiently shocked by her inquiry, “My son I know you have much on your mind but now that you are king it is vastly important that you wed and….you have always been intended for Prince Gareth but circumstances have changed greatly and it has been drawn to my attention that you may favor another. Do those rumors possess any truth?” her voice is tentative as if wary of his response and he knows the “other” his mother is referring to.
Princess Irina Shayk.
The icy cool beauty that has sparked his interest while most other princesses he encounters are very eager to be by his side and shower him with affections she is different, their first meeting she seemed very disinterested and barely looked his way and her unusual treatment piqued his interest immediately, he had to know more about this distant beauty.
But then there is Prince Gareth, the sole heir to the throne of Wales and they have been betrothed since childhood he can still remember his rosy freckled cheeks and clearwater eyes and the way his breath hitches every time Cristiano calls him little dragon.
He has always enjoyed Gareth’s presence but he does not know if he can grow to love the boy, he has always dreamed of wedding someone who would push and challenge him and Gareth has always remained quietly on the sidelines.
Princess Iryna flashes in his mind with her ruby pout and similarly icy blue eyes and he knows he’s made his decision but he cannot dismiss Gareth in a letter that is far too cruel, “Mother I would like you to invite Prince Gareth here I would like to speak to him.”
For as long Prince Gareth can remember he has loved King Cristiano, the formerly crown Prince of Portugal but the passing of his father King Josè has forced the young Prince to become a King before it was planned.
‘One day when Cristiano is King you two shall be wed, you are his and he is yours’ he has been hearing this since he was a young boy, rosy cheeks lighting up further far too young to understand the intricacies of love but knowing that he loved playing with the slightly older Portuguese prince and he wanted to play with him forever.
Their first meeting was before the royal court, both of them led to by their parents and while Prince Gareth was shy and reserved; face hidden in the folds of Queen Debra’s elegant gown a stunning red as was custom in their country.
Cristiano was beautiful that much was evident but it was more than his appearance, he was respectful and kind to all the subjects who approached him no matter how excitable they were.
He was unlike anyone Gareth had ever seen, while most of his subjects were fair skinned with light eyes and hair himself included; Cristiano and his royal family were the complete opposite with their caramel skin and dark eyes and hair.
He was so exotic and Gareth couldn’t believe that this beautiful boy was to be his one day.
To his embarrassment he found that he was simply unable to converse with the young prince becoming tongue tied every time their contrasting eyes met, which was frequently.
‘Gareth sweetheart you simply must show Cristiano your garden you’ve been working on it all summer and perhaps you two could take a walk around the castle’ his mother had suggested in the same tone she used when she asked him if he wanted vegetables, meaning he had no choice in the matter and she was merely asking out of formality.
He tried to fight his blush but he couldn’t help it, he was terrified of how the other prince would react to the knowledge that he enjoyed gardening it was not the manliest of activities; he’d been teased by the other boys in the court and had momentarily thought of abandoning this hobby but he found he truly enjoyed gardening and the ability to create life with his hands.
It was Queen Maria who ultimately put his mind at ease, ‘That would be lovely Cristiano has always enjoyed watching me garden he helps tend to ours at times when he is not practicing with his sword, he has a bit of a black thumb though” her words resulted in an immediate reddening of that tan skin and he found that he couldn’t imagine this beautiful boy being less than proficient at anything.
But seconds later they were off to the garden, quietly walking side by side until they reached the southern exit and after explaining to his guards that they would be fine on their own for a bit they were allowed out, despite knight Arbeloa’s insistence that he accompany them. Cristiano insisted that he would keep Gareth safe no matter what and he felt his heart flutter in his chest, cheeks a permanent red.
His nerves rushed back with their isolation from the others and he started to name all the flowers and their purposes, as most of the flowers were used for healing purposes as was also custom in their land.
A few furtive glances revealed that Cristiano was attentively listening and he even saw a fond smile spread across his deep pink lips, he had never had anyone look at him like that before.
Thoroughly distracted by the beautiful prince it came as a complete surprise when he suddenly felt a prick of pain on his thumb and when he looked down he could see blood slowly dripping down his hand, he had carelessly grabbed a long stemmed rose with his bare hand.
An amateur mistake.
Shame flooded his chest and he turned to go retrieve Arbeloa to have him tend to the cut but before he would move his hand was taken in a soft grasp, he looked up at Cristiano with wide blue eyes filled with questions and received another smile in return before the prince retrieved a handkerchief from his waistcoat expertly wrapping his finger.
The emblem CR7 was embezzled across the surface proclaiming to whom it belonged, ‘You should be more careful little dragon you’re much too precious to be so careless” Cristiano gently chastised him his voice smooth like honey only slightly colored by his accent and he turned his head down in shame only for the prince to lift his chin once more.
‘Do not be ashamed as long as I am here I shall not let any harm come to you’ Cristiano’s voice was filled with unyielding certainty and in that moment Gareth was lost; his heart belonged to Cristiano.
He’s shaken from his reverie by Arbeloa, his personal guard and one of his closest friends in the kingdom it’s almost time for him to leave.
Leave his home and his family and all his friends and travel to Portugal to finally be with Cristiano, they have always been intended for each other a means of unifying their people and their kingdom but he can’t help the irrational fear that grips his heart at the thought of leaving.
Their last meeting had not been ideal, Cristiano has spent the entirety of his visit lavishing praises on Irina Shayk, the beautiful Russian princess that he had met at ball and he fought valiantly to force his jealousy to the back of his mind but seeing that look in Cristiano’s eyes in regards to someone else was painful in a way that nothing else had ever been.
Cristiano must have noticed his discomfort and the light dimming in his clear blue eyes as he had changed the subject, inquiring about his garden and his new horse but it was no use he couldn’t stop thinking about what a gorgeous couple they would make.
Far better paired than he and Cristiano.
“What troubles you my prince?” the deep baritone of Arbeloa rumbles and he snaps back into the present looking up at his guard and he wants to voice his fears and perhaps gain words of advice from his friend but that is out of the question, their differing stations prevent him from revealing such sensitive information regardless of how dearly he would like to.
“Nothing, nothing troubles me I am merely nervous but I am ready. Could you please carry my luggage down to the carriage I do not want to keep the King waiting much longer” and with those words Arbeloa leaves him to his thoughts and this is it, the moment he has been preparing for his whole life.
He wishes he could recapture some on his unbridled joy from his naïve childhood but he has heard the rumors, the rumors that Cristiano will dissolve their betrothal and wed the gorgeous ice princess instead.
With the sudden passing of late King Cristiano is under severe pressure to produce an heir and continue his bloodline and the Russian Czar is more than willing to offer his daughter’s hand in marriage. It makes Gareth’s blood boil but….he understands that Cristiano must do what is best for his people and if he were to pass they would need an heir to the throne.
Yet, Cristiano has sent for him.
Requested his immediate arrival in a letter received this very morning and the dread that lingers in his heart lessens, maybe the King hasn’t changed his mind and still intends to wed him.
He takes a deep calming breath brushing his side swept bangs from his powder blue eyes before standing, he will not get any answers until he sees the King so with a heavy heart he exits his bedroom knowing this may be his last day here or….he could return with his heart in pieces.
Sweat is pouring from his body as he circles his opponent lifting his sword higher to guard his face while simultaneously readying himself for another attack watching the cocky smirk that races across Sergio’s handsome face.
They have been sparring for hours now and while he feels himself weakening, Sergio seems to be growing stronger moving faster as the battle continues even finding time to send saucy winks over to the priest, Iker, who flushes each time and rushes off to the cathedral to escape the Spaniard.
Sergio booming chuckles fills the air and Cristiano grows more and more agitated, he has been unable to beat his knight in a battle despite how many times a day he challenges Sergio hoping to catch him off guard and finally emerge as victor.
Sergio is unbeatable and it pricks at his ego so he swings his sword once more but Sergio easily dodges the parry and throws his own sword up to block before countering with a swipe to his legs knocking him off balance. The fall drags the air out of his lungs and this is why he challenges Sergio, other knights would be terrified to fight him and even moreso to beat him or accidentally hurt him but not Sergio who commonly claims “All men are equal behind the blade of a sword.”
Quickly jumping back to his feet, he readies himself for another attack when he hears resounding trumpets signaling the arrival of royalty, Prince Gareth . “My King it appears we shall have to continue your eminent loss another day” the cheeky knight snickers before bowing and tossing the sword at a scared page who almost losses his fingers in the transaction.
Sergio gives him a hearty slap on the back before making his way to the cathedral, a confident swagger to his walk.
Cristiano shakes his head in disapproval, it took them many months to find a priest as saintly as Iker has proved to be and he has informed Sergio countless times that is to leave the man alone, his words fall on deaf ears.
He looks down at himself in disappointment wishing he were dressed better to greet the Prince but this will have to do, he reminds himself that his appearance is of no consequences because he is going to inform Gareth that he intends to marry another.
This was much easier in his imagination.
He tugs at his thin sweat soaked tunic and carefully hands his sword off to the same page thanking him before going to welcome the young prince.
First he catches sight of Arbeloa, the prince’s personal guard who he believes has always had less than professional feelings towards the prince and he feels his chest twinge in annoyance, he nods in acknowledge but no words are exchanged between them they have never enjoyed each other’s company.
Arbeloa opens the carriage door before he can attempt to do so himself and he feels his annoyance grow stronger before all thoughts take flight and he is left there gaping.
It has been two years since he last saw the prince with their visits growing more infrequent as they both got older and acquired more responsibilities.
The boy he once knew is no more and before him stands a man, his once shaggy uncontrollable hair has been tamed and softly pushed to the side, his freckles have lessened and now only a few rare ones peek out from his porcelain skin, his lips—they are a work of art, wide and plump and calling out to him like sirens.
But his eyes are what grip Cristiano the strongest he is unable to look away from the from the crisp haunting pale orbs, after all this time he still finds himself enchanted by their warm beauty so unlike--another.
He is quick to offer his hand to assist the prince in exiting his carriage and when their hands meet he feels a zing of electricity flow between their fingertips; the soft gasp that Gareth releases confirms that he has felt it too.
"I express my condolences for your loss, my King" Gareth solemnly whispers bowing slightly and he's shaken from his stupor suddenly remembering exactly why he has invited the young Welsh prince to this kingdom; to dissolve their engagement, he’d forgotten himself for a moment; Gareth has always had an debilitating effect on him at times it scares him.
"Thank you Prince Gareth I pray all is well with your kingdom and that you enjoyed your travels as well" he answers just as quietly feeling as if they are the only two in the square, in the world. Their eyes lock and he realizes that he still has not released the Prince's hand and he finds he has no desire to, the way Gareth's eyes flint across his face resting on his--lips for a second too long before reconnecting with his eyes causes a surge of want to build in his stomach.
It has always been like this between them, comfortable but with an edge of tension---
"His royal majesty: Gareth Frank Bale the first of Wales!" Arbeloa's voice cuts through the haze they've both been enraptured in and suddenly the square is in a bustle as servants arrive to carry the Prince's bags, his many many bags seemingly all his possessions have been brought along and it's with dread that he realizes that Gareth is under the assumption that he will be living here, he doesn’t know about Cristiano’s change of heart-they were always groomed to be together.
When all the luggage has been handled and the carriage has been drawn away, the prince stands there expectantly with only his personal guard by his side and it’s Sergio's sudden reappearance and deep voice that wakes him from his mental slumber, "My King should we not show our guests to their rooms?"
As they turn to enter his castle he can see the lack of proximity between the prince and his guard and the annoyance surges again and without hesitation or clear thought he places a hand on Gareth's lower back, feeling his body tighten and tense before it relaxes and the Prince leans into his bold move.
The look of clear disdain that passes across the guard's face is inhibited and in his peripheries he can see the smug smirk that Sergio is donning, he gently hastens his pace so neither guards will view the similar smirk residing on his countenance.
Sergio's oh-so-subtle snicker makes it evident he has been found out.
At times he wonders why he made the decision to appoint the insolent knight as his personal guard but despite his uncouth behavior Sergio is a respected warrior and he can’t imagine anyone else guarding his life, he just wishes the Spaniard would show a bit more tact at times.
As expected their trek through the castle causes quite a stir and it is only the sharp glare of his guard that keeps them from being accosted as they traverse through the intricate hallways, however his glares are not enough to impede the whispers and he feels a rush of relief when they finally reach his chambers.
“Leave us now” he commands to Sergio, turning to Arbeloa “Sergio shall show you to your quarters” and a look of confusion flashes across the bearded knight’s face before he daringly replies “I was told I would be closer to Prince Gareth it is my duty to protect him and I cannot do so if I am not in his vicinity…… my King.”
Cristiano fights the biting reply that lingers on his tongue suppressing the anger that rises at the knight’s implications, Gareth is his responsibilities and for him to imply that Cristiano would allow harm to come to his personage is the highest offense.
Gareth reads the situation speedily sending a calming look Cristiano’s way before turning to Arbeloa and they commence to have what looks like a mental conversation, his eyes are drawn to Sergio and his raised brow expresses everything he is thinking at this moment, they are far too close.
A few seconds pass before the two disengage and the Arbeloa turns to him with a look of chastisement and soon an apology follows “Forgive me for my impositions I spoke out of turn” his words are tense and Cristiano imagines this is how one would speak if they were held at sword point.
Nonetheless he nods his acquiesce and soon he is watching the departing backs of both knights until they disappear from sight and he focuses all his attention on Gareth, who appears to have been observing him the entire time and to his utmost surprise—those cool ice orbs never stray even once he notices.
Never has he seen the Prince this bold, it sparks his interest.
“It’s good to see you again my little dragon” he speaks affectionately relieved that they can speak freely now without an audience, happily watching the blush that covers those pale cheeks at the utterance of that nickname.
“I am not so little anymore I’ve grown since our last meeting and in a fortnight I might surpass even you” and he has to admit there is merit to that assessment Gareth has grown their eyes are almost level and he finds he quite misses being able to tower over him, misses the way Gareth would look up at him—complete adoration in his eyes.
Yet, their height equivalence changes nothings Gareth is still his little dragon and he tells him so and the answering look of reverence that he receives is enough to melt his heart like snow in the first days of spring.
“Shall we go instead?” and he feels his heart closing up once because they are alone now and once they enter that room there will be no more polite conversations, he’s not sure he’s ready to lose Gareth’s love. and
Ever.
Cristiano’s behavior once they enter the beautifully decorated chamber is unlike anything he’s ever witnessed, it’s as if they’ve stepped through a portal and stepped in a universe where they are mere strangers once more.
Polite questions are offered and he respectfully answers but notes that not once is Cristiano able to maintain eye contact and that is all the confirmation he needs to know that his fears are going to be actualize.
Ironically, while most people’s eyes are the windows to their souls Cristiano refusal to show his eyes have always been more telling.
“You are nervous? You have no need to be I… I’ve heard the rumors and I know what you must do and I understand, you are a King now and you must do what is best for your people…..and you must follow your heart. If she is what you want, she is what you should have” he praises all the deities he can recall when his words come out calmly and not as gut wrenching as it feels, Cristiano appears astounded by his words but he has grown tired of waiting for the King to reveal his intentions.
“Where is all your bravado now? Where is the boy who once tried to fly using only sheer determination, not once but twice? Say what needs to be said, say it and put us both out of our miseries” this is not how he envisioned this discussion progressing but his anger sneaks up on him like a petty burglar and he’s embarrassed to feel a burn in his eyes, turning away before those traitorous tears can fall and decimate any chance of leaving this room with a scrap of his dignity.
“Little dragon I---“
“Please refrain from calling me that as you smash my heart beneath the sole of your feet” and he feels no shame saying those words because they are true, it’s just a fact: the sky is blue, water is wet and he loves Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro.
Has loved him for as long as he can remember it’s the only thing his heart has ever known.
He stalks away from his seat and finds himself looking out of grand bay windows and a beautiful lake greets him, he recalls Cristiano’s tales about this very lake, summers spent frolicking with his friends—not always clothed and he feels a rush of sadness for all the things he will never have.
Cristiano’s slow approach is reflected in the glass and he tenses readying himself for the blow, “You are… right about everything” his heart cracks—“ I brought you here to tell you I..I can’t marry you. My father’s passing has put my people on a state of disarray and they are fearful for my life and their future, there is no other beyond me to take my place if I were to… as well ergo they need stability and my wedding will offer them that. A sign of hope for the future but it must be with a woman if I hope to produce an heir and the princess Shayk has expressed an interest in me as well you must know this isn’t easy for me, I’ve come to be fond of you as well” and Gareth cannot control his laughter, fond of himthat is all that Cristiano feels a fondness like what one feels towards an old shoe or a trusted sword.
He has given his whole heart to a man who feels fond of him. He is the epitome of a fool.
Yet, he cannot ignore the desolation that cloud those caramel pools and suddenly the letters from Queen Maria come to mind, Cristiano is mourning the loss of his father and he cannot begin to fathom that sort of pain and he knows of the financial tribulations that plagues their kingdom.
The late King was a known for his frivolous ways and he has left behind a debt too large for such a small kingdom, Cristiano is doing what is best for his kingdom he is already a great King.
Those thoughts fuel his subsequent words, “I understand and I wish you a life time of happiness. I will have Arbeloa collect my luggage and move them to the adjacent room” and Cristiano’s eyes widen in shock before he speaks “You intend to remain?”
“Yes it would draw unwarranted attention if I were to leave so shortly after my arrival, attention your kingdom does not require at this moment. There are those who would salivate at the idea that you were weakened and without an ally—no matter what my kingdom and I will do anything to aid you. You need never fear of that.”
He doesn’t know what he expects following his admission but the very last thing he expects is to be drawn into an embrace- a crushing embrace, spun around and held so tightly that the air is pushed from his lungs and he inadvertently draws in a huge gulp of Cristiano’s scent and it’s delicious all clean sweat and dry leather, pure heaven.
The body pressed close to his is nothing short of perfection, muscles in places that most could never even concoct in a fantasy, a trill of lust causes his pants to tighten and he has to pull back before he can further embarrass himself.
Lord it is purely indecent for a man to be that attractive.
“You have no idea what peace your words bring to me” he wishes he could stop himself from preening at those words but it’s beyond his control, Cristiano’s happiness has always been his main priority his dismissal has not altered that in the slightest.
“I should take my leave now” he states bowing at the waist as is necessary when biding a King good bye, exiting the room and shakily taking in a deep breath before letting his feet carry him where they may. His heart and mind are too heavy now to guide him.
To the stable, his feet lead him to the stable and the overwhelming scent of manure and hay welcomes him. He has always had an affinity for horses and has spent much of his childhood hidden away in the stables so he’s not surprised that his subconscious would deign this an appropriate location following Cristiano’s heart-leveling reveal.
Without thought he walks over to his horse, Luka, a short but powerful horse golden in color with a long matching mane a gift bestowed upon him for his 16th birthday and he could never concise leaving without his trusted stallion; Luka is his best friend.
It was an easy decision to bring him along on this trip and now he is more thankful than ever, sometimes he wonders about Luka’s sentience because the horse seems to be impossibly aware of his every emotions.
As soon as he touches Lukas’s warm nose the horse begins to nuzzle into his palm and release small noises of… comfort? Is it possible that Luka can read his sadness and is attempting to comfort him? Lukas continues to nuzzle and lick his hand even head-butting him gently and he has never left so close to another being as he does in this moment.
“He is a beautiful horse, almost as beautiful as his owner” a rough flirtatious voice drags him out of his musings and he opens his eyes (unsure of when exactly he closed them) and meets the dark gaze of Cristiano’s guard watching him nonchalantly from his sprawl on the stable door.
“Thank you, he was a gift” he accepts the compliment on Lukas’s obvious beauty ignoring the latter part of that statement, used to Sergio’s unreserved way of flirting.
“Princeling may I speak freely?” the presumptuous Spaniard inquiries and he cannot control his abrupt answer, “When have you ever not?” and he’s rewarded with a loud booming laugh that fills the entire stable.
He has always admired Sergio’s ability to freely be himself at all times, he cannot imagine being that confident within himself.
No other knight would dare to give him a nickname but Sergio has always strutted to the beat of his own trumpet.
“Do you remember that summer you spent trying to grow natural blue roses? You were so crestfallen when you learned that they simply could never grow in your environment needing hotter climates to survive, you look sadder now than you did then tell me, what has Cristiano done?”
The glaring lack of a title is noted and he almost smiles at Sergio’s impotence but then he recalls that summer and how painstakingly he tried to grow the blue flowers and despite his mother’s various inquiries he never told her why he was so adamant about growing the unnatural floras. They possessed properties that could be utilized for pain management and she was careful but he observed the way she clutched her hands at times trying to prevent the twitches, the doctors has called it arthritis or something of that sort.
He remembers feeling like a failure for being unable to help his mother then one day he’d received a post, a large package wrapped in inconspicuous brown paper and when he’d finally unwrapped it he gasped in shock to find them--long stemmed blue roses.
They were extremely rare and impossibly difficult to obtain but there they were and he frantically searched for a note to know who had given him this amazing gift, a piece of paper laid innocently at the bottom of the package and it simply read: for my little dragon.
“Nothing he did nothing wrong, he just doesn’t love me--not like I love him” he can’t believe he utters these words to Sergio but regardless of their differences in stations the knight has watched him grow up and teased him more times than he can quantify, these experiences have accumulated into a friendship and he desperately needs a friend right now.
For the second time that day he finds himself drawn into a warm embrace but this one he doesn’t pull away from, doesn’t question, doesn’t do anything.
He just lets himself be held and holds in return.
Seconds fade to minutes and he’s unaware of how long they’ve been standing there but the notion to move never runs through his mind, he can physically feel the pent up frustration melting from his bones leaving him a malleable mound of flesh in the powerful knight’s arms.
“Sometimes I think you are the sole person in this world that sees Cristiano for who is truly is and other times I think even you are blinded by the façade that he presents.”
Sergio’s blunt words ruse him from his reprieve and the content has him building back up his walls, Sergio speaks too candidly about matters that do not concern him and his anger must reflect in his window-esque eyes because the Spaniard continues more determinedly, “I was there. When the King passed, I was there and I saw Cristina; he cried in my arms and locked himself away from all others and I thought his smile had been lost, stolen by the sorrow of losing a man he wished he could have known but then a letter arrived and I’ve never seen him awaken like that. He smiled for the first time in days. Your letter dragged him back from the abyss he’d fallen into and you claim he doesn’t love you?”
That’s the daunting thing about hope it can be snuffed out in an instant but conversely it can be reignited just as capriciously and despite his internal resistance he is weak to fight the hope that flutter like the wings of premature bird at first flight.
He can’t imagine his letter having such an effect on Cristiano, it’s almost surreal yet Sergio has no reason to lie nothing to gain from such a rouse.
“I have much to think about but thank you for your candid words they’ve been most insightful I think I shall retire for the night” his voice is barely audible to his own ears over the thundering beat of his heart but the loosening of the arms surrounding him signal that he’s been heard and he whispers a quiet goodbye to Lukas before escaping to his chambers, needing a moment of solitude to process Sergio’s words.
Never once taking notice of the dark eyes that trail his departure from the stable.
The cathedral is filled to its capacity and it warms his heart to see the trusting faces of his children, all whom have given their souls over to a higher being: his words rousing awe and wonder in their eyes.
But as his eyes appraise the worshippers in the pews there is an empty space where a certain mischievous knight has been occupying, no sign of the ruddy auburn hair or cheeky grin to be found.
He should be thankful for this blessing as it is clearly a gift from God himself who has witnessed his plight with temptation yet he feels unsettled and it is only his hours spent memorizing the text that allow him to complete the service, he feels removed from the words he is preaching.
Iker knows he should not encourage the open admiration of the King’s trusted knight and he has not done so, consistently refusing all of Sergio’s offers under the guise of needing to devote all his time to his craft.
Yet he cannot stop his feet from carrying him to Sergio’s hideaway once the service is blissfully over.
It is there in the stables that he’s greeted by his knight embracing another--young man, they appear to be whispering softly to each other before they disengage and he sees the fair face of ----Prince Gareth.
What is Sergio doing with the Prince? Was the King aware of their....involvement?
Thinking fast he hides in the darkness as the Prince makes his exit, not believing what he’s just witnessed.
I was never special he was using me to pass the tim—
“ Do you intend to remain in the shadows all night San Iker?” he freezes in his spot contemplating an escape back to the safety of his cathedral before the decision is taken out of his hands and Sergio’s sinfully handsome face fills his vision.
“How did you know I was here?”
“I’m a knight it is my duty to know about the presence of those who wish to be hidden……and I am always aware of your presence my little saint” Sergio does nothing to hide his blatant coquettishness and he refuses to blush after watching the Spaniard attempt to work his magic on a another, one whom is betrothed to his King and closest friend.
“Does the King know you covet what is his?” he cuts to the root of the problem slicing the smile right off the knight’s face and leaving behind a look that promises danger, “Covet what Cristiano possesses? Surely you are mistaken as I covet one but tell me now do you belong to the King?”
A rush of blood surges to his cheeks and before he can answer that Sergio is stalking into his space, boxing him in with the width of his body and places too intricately detailed arms over his shoulder until he has no means of escape.
“Gareth is a mere boy, a beautiful one—but a boy nonetheless now you on the other hand little saint, you are a man. An innocent, tempting and seemingly jealous man—“ his hand is raised before he makes any conscious decision to do so, rising to strike the outspoken man but before the blow can land his hand is caught in an iron-clad clasp.
“Unhand me” he demands shame flushing his cheeks further, knowing he has no right to be jealous but Sergio is completely correct in his assessment.
Watching Sergio and Gareth embrace awakened a horrible monster lying dormant in his chest.
“Do you want to know a secret?” his brain unhinges at the pure seduction laced in the smooth baritone voice and a soft gasp falls from his lips when that searing hot body is suddenly pressed against his, he cannot look away from the sparkling dark orbs that hold him hostage in their gaze.
“I’ve thought of no other but you since your arrival, you fascinate me priest—“ his body is a fiery hell, “If you were aware of the indecent thoughts I had pertaining your personage you would run away screaming unless….you chose to stay and I could show you more pleasurable ways for us to spend our time I can’t promise there won’t be any screaming, but I swear you will love it.”
Heavens, he must go before he this man can lead him down a path paved with fire and brimstone.
“I—I…I must go, goodbye sir knight” calling upon all the strength he has remaining he forces his way out of Sergio’s hold and flees to the cathedral once more his mind a nest of impure thoughts—their bodies intertwined on the stable floor, hot kisses that leave them breathless, tasting the ink that lines that taut body-
STOP!
“You can ran my little saint but you can’t hide and I will chase you until you are mine!” Sergio’s words haunt him as he flees into the night.
Father help me be strong, temptation has never been this powerful.
Sergio watches the priest run away, licking his lips in anticipation. Soon, that forbidden apple will fall from its tree and he will be there to snatch it from the air and devour it.