Chapter Text
“I’m what?” Shane asked.
“Engaged to Lord Ilya Rozanov from Boston,” his mother repeated.
“Aren’t we in a trade war with Boston?”
Yuna shrugged. “This is the King’s plan. Rozanov’s older brother is married already, and you’re the most senior member of the Montreal court. Both city-states want to be the capital. Both want better trade routes. This conflict has been going on for years and nothing has ever ended it.”
“I know that, I’m asking why us getting married is the answer.”
“It’s an attempt at peace.” Yuna shrugged, holding up the letter she had received this morning with the news. “According to this, the King knows you and Rozanov are incredibly skilled as ambassadors and negotiators. Since we’ve been in a textile shortage and have an export surplus for years, and of course, Boston has it just as bad, just for different resources. The King created a joint council from members of both cities and you and Rozanov will co-lead it and, I don’t know, force them to get their heads out of their asses.”
Yuna appraised her son. She had known that Shane would likely have a marriage that was a political alliance, but she had hoped he could have at least had some say in it. Unfortunately, when the king says jump, both city-states were required to ask how high.
Shane sighed. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, I mean, what choice do we have? I’m tired of the threat of conflict always breaking out. As you said, I am the most senior, unmarried member of the court who also likes men, so I guess it makes sense.”
“It’s not what I wanted for you –”
“I know, Mom. It’s not what we pictured, but if I can serve Montreal in this way –. Who knows, maybe Rozanov will be attractive.”
“Well,” Yuna said under her breath.
“Mom?” Shane prompted. “What do you know?”
“Just rumors, we should probably –”
“If I am going to marry him, I at least deserve to know –”
“Fine. He’s got a reputation as a bit of a rake, he likes men and women and everyone else, and he’s never had a long term courtship. He’s known for being arrogant and obnoxious.” Yuna sighed. “See, when I say it out loud, it just sounds sad. This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I’m sorry.”
Shane felt his shoulders drop. This aligned with what he heard about Lord Rozanov as well. He hoped it was just rumors. He hoped even if his future husband was a rake he would at least be kind. Or at least not so arrogant as to make their marriage insufferable.
“Seems he’s at least willing to settle down if he’s marrying me.”
“Settle?” Yuna exclaimed. “He’s the lucky one to get you as his husband. Don’t sell yourself short, Shane. You are amazing, and handsome, and skilled and –”
“Okay, okay, enough, Mom. You’re freaking me out.”
* * *
The next two weeks passed in a blur. Shane was packed, given lessons in Boston culture and nuance, and taught the names of the important people he would need to know in Boston. Having served as an ambassador since he finished school, Shane was already familiar with a lot of the information, but he had never served in Boston, so he paid special attention to the intricacies and nuances.
The time went too quickly and before he was ready, Shane’s staff had shipped his crates of personal belongings to the Rozanov palace and his parents joined him in a carriage to make the trip to the wedding.
The Boston palace was what Shane expected. Accounting for the cultural differences between their cities, the Rozanov family lived in a palace not too different from where Shane had grown up in Montreal. There was opulence to spare, whether in the dining room’s fine china, the gold trim throughout the guest residence where Shane was housed, or the luxurious full service bathhouse where Shane found himself in the middle of his first night at the palace.
According to custom, he would not be introduced to Ilya Rozanov until their wedding. He received a brief introduction to Rozanov’s father and brother, neither of whom were particularly warm to him. There was a week of final preparations to seal the alliance between Boston and Montreal, during which time Shane had free run of the guest wing of the palace, but was accompanied any time he left his rooms by a servant who seemed more like a guard.
After the initial introductions, Shane was settled into his room, and dinner was provided in the guest dining room. Shane was a bit surprised that though he dined alone, he seemed to have two waiters constantly checking on him. One of them, an older gentleman, clearly an expert from years of service; he quickly appeared when Shane needed something, kept his cup filled and provided a list of options for the meal.
In contrast, the other man must still be training for his role. He was young, likely a similar age to Shane. He had dark blonde curly hair, and a goofy smile he kept trying to suppress as he offered Shane what was clearly a sloppily memorized list of appetizers and desserts. He winked at Shane while filling his wine glass, and seemed generally untrained. Shane didn’t care, the inexperienced waiter was the first person to smile at him since he arrived.
Late that night, Shane found himself plagued by insomnia. His mind reminded him of the young waiter’s gorgeous smile. The man clearly knew who Shane was, but he addressed him with the nervousness of someone who was not used to waiting on a lord. Maybe he had recently been promoted. Maybe he was training to join Shane’s household after the wedding.
Shane tossed and turned for about an hour before he realized he simply was not going to sleep anytime soon. He knew there was a library in the palace and he wondered if it were possible to access it at night. He eased his door open to ask the servant (guard?) who was constantly stationed out there, but the hallway was empty. Throwing on a robe, Shane headed down the corridor, hoping he could find his way.
The hallways were quiet and empty. Shane turned a corner down a corridor he had not yet seen. He listened for any signs of someone awake who might give him directions, but the hallways were quiet and empty. Eventually he came to a door that stood partially ajar. Shane poked his head in and was immediately enveloped in warm, sweet smelling steam.
He distantly remembered the servant who had given him a brief tour earlier saying the guest wing connected to the royal bathhouse, where Shane seemed to find himself. He had briefly washed in his room earlier, but had been too exhausted from traveling to do more than was necessary. Despite the late hour, there were still low fires burning in the various hearths around the room. There were multiple pools, all of which were empty.
Well, it wasn’t a library, but a hot bath and time in the steam would certainly help him to relax.
Shane undressed, neatly folding his clothes and leaving them on one of the wooden benches. He descended into the nearest pool and sank down into the hot water. He closed his eyes and tried to push the anxieties of the past month away. He couldn’t believe in just over a week he would be married to a man he had never met in order to end a centuries old rivalry between their citystates. He understood the strategy in theory, but it depended on Lord Rozanov and Shane being able to work together, to be equally invested in creating peace, to be compatible enough. Shane would give it his all, as he did with everything he set his mind to; but Rozanov was a wild card. All Shane knew about him was what the gossip circles said: he was a rake, a bit arrogant, and known for partying. Shane hoped these reports were exaggerated, he wasn’t sure how he could possibly make legitimate change if the Rozanov lived up to his reputation.
Shane felt the water shift around him and he opened his eyes.
Leaning against the wall at the other side of the bath was the young waiter from dinner. His hair was wet and his curls clung tightly to his forehead. He gave Shane an appraising once over and smiled.
Shane stared at him.
“Shane Hollander,” he said quietly. His voice was rich and deep and his accent curled around Shane’s name is a particularly pleasing way.
Shane didn’t know what to say. He had thought everyone was asleep. He was quite surprised to see a waiter in the bathhouse. A very, very attractive waiter, now that Shane was paying attention. During dinner he had mostly noticed the man’s height and curls and the way his eyes danced when he looked at Shane. Now that he was naked, Shane could see his toned shoulders and chest, he looked more like a classic sculpture than a real person. His skin was gently tanned, his body trim and muscular. Shane’s eyes raked down his body, only averting them once his gaze would have dropped below the water.
“How, uh, I mean, yes, that’s –. I am. That’s me.” Shane was certain he had never sounded so stupid in his entire life.
The waiter smiled and took a step closer to Shane. Shane backed up slightly, his back colliding with the edge of the bath. The other man was barely an arm’s length away, and his eyes traveled across Shane’s body, not hiding when he glanced down into the water to see the rest of Shane.
“Fuck off,” Shane said, realizing that his body was starting to respond to the stranger.
“Is that what you really want?” the waiter asked, crowding even closer.
Shane wasn’t trying to look. He wasn’t. He had attended bathhouses with his friends since he was a teen. He knew the art of not looking. Something about the intoxicating stranger made him forget all of that in an instant. He looked. And, gods forgive him, he wanted.
“This is such a bad idea,” Shane breathed as the blonde man closed the space between them and rested his hands on Shane’s upper arms. One of his hands traced a line up Shane’s shoulder, across his jaw and pulled him in for a kiss.
“What is,” the stranger whispered against his lips.
Fuck it.
Shane had kissed and been kissed plenty of times. He didn’t often engage in sexual activity, he wasn’t Ilya fucking Rozanov, with his rumored endless calendar of beautiful men and women in his bed, but he was no stranger to the occasional kiss. Kisses that were fine, ordinary, not worth exploring further.
This was nothing like that. The stranger’s kiss ignited his entire body and he needed more. Immediately. He needed to kiss this man until he could not breathe. He needed to let his hands roam every inch of the other man’s skin, he needed to taste his cock –
He threw his arms around the blonde stranger and pulled him close enough that their cocks slid tantalizingly together. Heat and sparks shot through Shane’s body at the contact. The other man grinned and slid his hand down, taking Shane in hand.
“Wait, wait,” Shane gasped, trying to get his brain to still function.
To his credit, the other man removed his hand and waited, his eyes immediately meeting Shane’s, his expression clearly worried.
“I, uh, I can’t,” Shane blurted out.
“Can’t?” the stranger teased, glancing down at Shane’s very hard cock.
“I’m engaged,” Shane forced out.
The other man raised his eyebrows for a moment and then he fought to look serious as he said, “Yes I know, to Lord Ilya Rozanov,” he exaggerated the pronunciation. “And this Lord, he owns you?” As he spoke, he slowly moved his hand back around Shane’s cock, but didn’t stroke him, clearly waiting for Shane to break.
Gods help him, Shane was just a man. With a gorgeous stranger who seemed pretty committed to making him feel good. He thrust into the man’s hand and bit down on his lip.
“No,” Shane murmured.
“No,” the stranger said, his hand expertly working Shane’s cock while his lips claimed Shane’s mouth once more.
Shane’s mind was going deliciously fuzzy as the man continued to stroke him. He tilted his head back, the stranger kissing and nipping his way down Shane’s throat and biting gently just under his collarbone.
“Fuck, wait, I’m going to –”
“Come for me,” the other man said, murmuring something else in his own language that Shane didn’t understand. His voice was rough and deep and Shane wanted to immerse himself in the sound of it.
“Fuck, I can’t –, fuck, don’t stop –, fuck!”
Shane’s body tensed and released before he could stop it. Fuck. He hadn’t come that quickly in years. He leaned forward slightly, his forehead tipping into the blonde man’s shoulder. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good just from someone else’s hand. He breathed deep and the stranger rubbed his hand along Shane’s spine and peppered his throat and shoulders with kisses.
Belatedly, Shane realized the other man was stroking himself. Shane reached and tried to replace the other man’s hand. His stranger laced their fingers together around his cock and stroked himself to completion, groaning and whispering Hollander like it was somehow the perfect curse word and the highest praise.
The blonde man raised his eyes to Shane. He looked blissed out for a moment, like he couldn’t believe he was real. He kissed Shane, slower this time, as though they had all the time in the world. That thought sparked a worse one for Shane: someone could walk in on him kissing a fucking waiter when he was supposed to be engaged to their prince.
“I should go,” Shane said softly, pulling back from the kiss and trying to ground himself back into his body.
The stranger smiled. “Oh, yes, big week for you. Need your beauty sleep.”
Shane ducked his head, trying to decide if he wanted to kiss this man or slap him. “I’m not –. Whatever. I have to go.”
“Okay.”
Shane felt like he was failing a test. He stepped up out of the water, grabbing for a towel and wrapping it around himself as quickly as he could. He pushed away the louder voice in his head, the one that said to jump back into the water and kiss and touch and fuck the man before him. He had been here less than a day and already fucked a stranger while suffering from insomnia triggered from the stress of marrying another stranger.
Before he could make another mistake, Shane fled the bathhouse and returned to his room. Thankfully the guard was still missing from his door. He closed and locked the door, not able to take a real breath until he was safely tucked back into his bed.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He had just had sex with a stranger, a fucking servant, in his fucking fiance’s bathhouse. He was such an idiot. It was just one time, he told himself. He had been wound tightly from all the stress, he just needed to blow off some steam. Now that he got that out of his system, everything would be fine. It’s like he would see the other man again anytime soon.
“What do you drink?” a smooth, deep voice asked Shane as he settled into the dining room for breakfast. Shane froze midway through shaking a napkin into his lap. He looked up, even though he already knew who was standing there.
“Good morning, Lord Hollander,” the blonde man smirked. “Sleep well last night?”
Fuck.