HIS PRINCE

by Max Turner

Content Warnings: explicit sexual content between a cis man and a trans man.

Christopher Montgomery had been the first person Robert thought of in the whole of the kingdom.

It was an old kingdom with traditions that ran deep. The towns and cities were prosperous and the countryside was filled with the ruins of castles and farmsteads alike, speaking to many aspects of their past.

It was a sizable kingdom with a large populace and yet there was no one else Robert had ever trusted as he did Christopher, despite everything. Once, Chris had been a nobleman and Robert a prince, but those days were behind both of them, and now Robert was in need of assistance.

Robert walked the dark street lined with opulent apartment blocks. He felt the mist of rain in the air and pulled his thin jacket tighter around himself. It had been over a decade since they had seen each other.

Christopher’s father had been a royal advisor and nobility in his own right – Cedric Montgomery, Duke of the Northern Isles. So it made sense that, being so close in age, the children had been introduced as toddlers and become fast friends. They’d rough-housed and run around the grounds as they grew, getting into scrapes and coming home covered in dirt.

Christopher was the only person that had always called him Bertie, despite the many frowns it had earned them both.

Despite how close they had been, their teenage years saw an end to it all. First, as a result of the awkwardness of puberty and then the not-so-subtle nudges from their families.

Robert had realised then that there had been a very specific reason their parents pushed them together as children. They were a suitable pairing. Or at least they had been.

It had seemed to everyone, except the two of them, that this would be a perfect match for the tomboy princess. The son of a duke, friends since childhood, someone aware of her strange ways and quirks. And marriage, apparently, was just what she needed to straighten out her odd ideas.

Together, they had looked a beautiful and charming pair, from childhood through to near-adulthood. Bertie with fair skin that sometimes bronzed in the sun, and light freckles that were only a little darker than his unruly mop of blonde curls. Christopher, dark-skinned like his mother, equally curly but neatly-cropped black hair, and his father's hazel eyes. Almost of a height with each other and both quite lovely to look upon.

The truth of it had become unavoidable at the age of sixteen, when their betrothal was announced merely days after they had themselves been officially informed of it.

Bertie had loved Christopher, deeply. Or at least as deeply as was possible at that young age. But to be married to each other was impossible, and he’d always kept those feelings in check. Robert was not Princess Roberta and never could be. It was simply impossible that he would ever become the princess everyone anticipated, the one anybody would be happy to marry.

Christopher had been polite, but he’d withdrawn from their friendship. Perhaps he had known the princess well enough to be repulsed at the idea of their marriage. They saw each other less and less until it was only at obligatory functions. And eventually, despite trying to be as courteous as he would be to anyone, it was clear to Robert that Christopher would rather be anywhere than the same room as him.

Despite this, a marriage had still been expected. That was, until a little over a year after their official betrothal, when Christopher’s father passed. And then Robert never saw Christopher again.

He had declined his inherited lands and title, letting those fall to his brother Alexander, and moved to the city to study and make his own way in the world. Christopher had refused to do them both the disservice of forcing them to enact their parents’ wishes. The severing of their betrothal was included within the renouncement.

Whilst Robert understood Christopher’s desire to escape their lives and the betrothal, he had felt a sting of anguish over it that he couldn’t quite process or name. The only relief in this event had been that Alexander was already engaged and so no betrothal was to be had there.

Eventually, with some luck, a son had been born to the King and Queen. Prince Charles was now to inherit from their parents and the pressure on Robert to find a suitable match had been alleviated, leaving Robert free to live a spinster’s existence, away from public view.

Until tonight had changed everything, thrusting Robert’s deepest secrets into the public eye.

Despite the decade that had passed, the disparate lives they’d led, Robert knew with unwavering confidence that he could turn to Christopher in his time of need. He was an honourable man, that had always been clear.

Robert pushed the buzzer.

Kit opened the door and blinked.

There stood a young man, soaked through. Cold, pink-tinged flesh was visible under a wet wool hat, and damp, dark blonde curls framed a face he'd never forget despite how it had changed over the years.

He’d recognise Bertie anywhere.

If it was a shock to see him, it wasn’t a surprise that Bertie had run. Not after everything that had been in the papers that morning.

Even so, they hadn’t seen each other in, what? Ten years? More? Not since he had run away like a fucking coward the first chance he had. Kit could claim that it was down to his father’s death. But, as hard as that had been to deal with, it was far from the only reason he’d declined his lineage and let everything go to his younger brother.

‘Bertie.’ Kit breathed the name, and felt the odd shape of it in his mouth. It had been so long since he last uttered it aloud.

Bertie’s weak smile and watery eyes, his trembling lower lip, all were so familiar to him. That same expression from the hundreds of times he’d fallen down and grazed a knee or elbow. Those times when he’d tried to be brave and not cry, as Kit rubbed a dock leaf over nettle stings.

‘Chris.’ The name would have sounded strange coming from someone other than Bertie, albeit in a deeper, older voice than he had remembered.

He smiled softly and held open the door. ‘It’s Kit these days, come in.’

Bertie let out another shuddering breath as he walked over the threshold.

He was trembling and Kit had a sense that it wasn’t just from the wet and cold.

‘Robert,’ Bertie said. ‘It’s Robert now. Rob, but Bertie’s fine.’

Kit closed the door and they stood opposite each other in the hallway.

Bertie was still a little shorter than him but not by as much as he remembered. Maybe because his frame had filled out. Where once he’d been slender and slight, even with the jacket Kit could see he was now more muscular. Athletic. He looked all the better for it, more comfortable in his skin.

Bertie pulled the soaked woollen hat from his head, revealing the mess of curls underneath, and Kit couldn’t help but smile. Bertie had never been permitted to cut his hair short when they were young, but now it was short and soft, completely wild. The kind of hair meant for running fingers through. Kit blinked and hoped he hadn't telegraphed that thought.

Bertie’s smile was still slight, and the way he looked like he was about to crumble made Kit want to wrap his arms around him. Instead, he held back, scrubbing his hand roughly over the back of his neck.

Bertie didn’t hold his gaze long, breaking to look around at the surroundings he’d found himself in.

Kit’s apartment was comfortable. He made good enough money to live in a nice part of the city and get some reasonable square-footage. Nothing like the home of his childhood though, nor Bertie’s. But then nothing was quite like the grand palace in the heart of the city.

‘I was… just making dinner. You want some?’ he asked tentatively, as though Bertie popped by all the time. Wasn’t that for the best? Try to keep everything as normal as it would ever get?

And it was true, the pasta was ready.

But it felt such a strange thing to say, mundane even.

What could he say to a person he had grown up with? Someone he'd pretty much been in love with in his own childish way, been betrothed to, and then left the first chance he’d had? What did he say?

Especially as he knew exactly why Bertie had run, even if not why he had run to him.

Bertie’s uncle had outed him last night. And Kit couldn’t begin to fathom the pain he must be in. The nightmare he was living was one that Kit had deliberately avoided.

The fact that he had left Bertie alone to face that reminded him that Bertie really was completely alone.

‘I heard about your parents, I’m… I was heartbroken, Bertie.’ Kit wanted to erase the words as soon as he had said them. They were condolences two years late and not entirely unconnected with Bertie’s current situation.

He had been heartbroken, though, when he’d heard about the crash during the state visit that had robbed them all of the King and Queen. Their young son had thankfully been with a nanny, and was now the ward of the new King, their uncle. Without a husband and with a younger brother, Bertie had not been in line for the throne. Kit wondered if that was something Bertie might have been thankful for.

Kit had cried for them but also for Bertie too. And it had become yet one more time when he should have been there for Bertie but wasn’t.

Bertie nodded solemnly at the words then looked down at his feet and shuffled them about.

Kit wasn’t one for tabloids, but he saw enough to know that Bertie had been a recluse since his parents died. He wondered if there might be some chance of freedom in that. A freedom for Bertie to be himself.

Until last night, when the King had outed Bertie to the nation as part of a speech on his policies on inclusivity. He had spoken at length about his love and support for the nephew he treated as a son but with such poor wording that it wasn’t immediately clear that he was talking about Bertie and not Charles. It was a clumsy and obvious grab for liberal popularity by a man who would forever live in the shadow of his beloved brother.

It had been inescapable news all day. Channel after channel showing their own angle of footage as the press camped outside Bertie’s gates, waiting for a glimpse of the reclusive princess-come-prince.

Watching the spectacle of it unfold, Kit thought about what support he might have given had he been there, still in Bertie’s life. He thought about the many letters he had written over the years but never had the nerve to post. Once more it was too late to be there and support his friend. His first love.

‘I wanted to get in touch. Not just now. Before, but…’ Kit started as he led the way down the hall and into the kitchen. Struggling to find the words.

‘It’s okay, I—I never expected. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here, but I didn’t know where else to go. You were the only one that ever, um…’ The words trailed off and Kit knew that Bertie was trying to hold back tears. He remembered all those tells.

Yeah, he’d been the only one that had really understood that Bertie was a boy.

It had been impossible not to with how close they’d been.

But more than that, he’d never thought of Bertie as a girl from the moment they met. To Kit, he was so clearly a boy, and that was just how it was, unspoken and natural. It had been jarring when they’d had to dress up for special occasions and Bertie was forced into a dress suitable for a princess. Bertie was a boy, just… not quite the same as Kit was.

But none of his friends were exactly alike, one way or another, whether body type or race, hair colour or height. So it never mattered. Not until it did. Not until it made Kit have to question a lot of things about himself.

He shook his head, both denying Bertie’s words and shaking out those thoughts.

‘Hey, you’re welcome here, you know that? Whatever you need, I’m here for you. I should have been…’ It was Kit’s turn to lose his words, not able to admit he should have been there. Or that he could have been if he’d just gone along with everything and not been full of his own self-doubt over something he’d always known.

They could have been married; he could have been there for Bertie if he’d just gone along with it all.

‘You’re here for me now,’ Bertie replied, so quietly that it was almost a whisper.

Kit, overwhelmed and unsure whether to cry or reach for Bertie simply cleared his throat then said, ‘Want some food?’ He grabbed an extra bowl and started to serve up the pasta with shaky hands.

Bertie looked on the verge of tears and Kit hated that he might be contributing to his pain.

‘I’m cold. I don’t… I don’t have anything. This is all I have. I just walked out and I can’t go back.’ Bertie blurted the words and Kit instinctively moved back to him, placing his hands on Bertie’s arms and feeling the more muscular frame than had been there before.

Feeling his heart skip just a little at the contact.

‘Food can wait. Have a shower, I’ll grab you some fluffy towels. And… um, some clothes. I mean, they’ll kind of swamp you but I think I have some drawstring lounge pants or something.’

Bertie managed another small smile and nodded. ‘Thanks Chr—Kit. You don’t have to do this.’

Kit felt his heart shatter, but, forcing himself to smile fondly, he replied, ‘What are friends for?’

Under the cover of the hot water, Robert – Bertie – cried. Not over any one thing but the overwhelming circumstances of everything.

He’d heard horror stories before of people being outed, and whilst he knew there were many in situations far, far worse than his, it didn’t lessen his pain or make the press leave him alone.

The first had arrived minutes after the broadcast had ended. A broadcast he had watched in horror as he sat at home. He had long been the family secret and now the most powerful man in the country had revealed him to everyone.

Now his home, the small palace he had lived in since his parents died, was surrounded.

His residency there had never been a secret, but his life had been. Behind the high walls and strong gates, he had been living there, as a man, for years. It had been something his parents were still slowly coming to terms with when they’d died.

It wasn’t that they were ignorant of the existence of transgender people; they took care to appear to be supportive of progressive causes and rights, at least in public. But it seemed that such support couldn’t extend as far as the royal family.

Even so, they had wanted him to be happy. And whilst they still talked of marriage and lineage, they hadn’t stood in his way when he engaged private doctors, started hormones, had surgeries, all in absolute secrecy and seclusion. Never stepping foot in public.

It was better that the kingdom thought he was just some reclusive oddity than come out before he was ready. Before his parents were ready. Though they might never have been.

The end of his betrothal had been the best and the worst thing to ever happen to Bertie, until last night.

Losing his best friend and someone he deeply loved in a way he had only just started to find words for, had been devastating. But it had also meant there was nothing more to lose. Once Charles was born, Robert dropped any pretence or attempt to be the princess his parents had wanted. Removed from the line of succession, he’d had that freedom.

Robert considered how tentative that freedom had been as he pulled his thoughts back to where he was and why. He lingered in the shower for as long as he felt was reasonable, before finally shutting off the water.

He took a deep breath and focused on pulling himself together, despite how easy it was to fall apart around Chris. Like it always had been, knowing his friend was there for him.

Kit.

All grown up. His hair was the shortest Robert had ever seen it, tight curls cropped and a slight greying at the temples making him look older than his thirty-one years. He was handsome, striking even. But then, Bertie had always thought so.

He couldn’t help a little smile through his sadness.

Kit. It suited him and Robert had the vague memory of Kit’s paternal grandfather and namesake using the same moniker in private. He was sure there was more to the name change than just family nostalgia, but after ten years Robert wasn’t sure he had the right to ask anything personal.

And he was equally unsure whether Kit would welcome personal conversation like that or not. Kit was the one who had broken their betrothal after all. As kind as he was being, he’d been the one that had left. He must have had his reasons for that.

Robert pushed down the sour thought and chided himself, unsure why he’d come here. It had been a bad idea and unfair on Kit. None of this was his problem.

Robert let out a sigh as he wiped condensation from the bathroom mirror and tried to tame his curls just a little.

It wasn’t like many other options had been open to him. Or any really.

A maid had smuggled him from the palace in the trunk of her car and dropped him where he’d requested, though she had been concerned about doing so. But, as he’d explained to her, he needed the anonymity of an old friend.

If he’d gone to a hotel it would have been minutes before the press arrived on his heels. If he fled the country he’d still have had nowhere to go.

He only had Kit.

Robert understood breaking the engagement, he really did. It had been awkward between them the moment they had been informed of the betrothal, and it was clearly something that Kit didn’t want. But he could have said that instead of just disappearing and never coming back.

Deep down, Robert knew he was the reason Kit had broken their engagement. Though he had always hoped that wasn’t also why Kit had stepped down from his noble life.

No use thinking about it now. He hadn’t come here with the intention of digging up the past. He’d come here because he had nowhere else to go. He should be grateful.

Robert pulled on the clothes that Kit had given him and they really were too big. Normally Robert hated to wear anything that made him look smaller than he was, but there was something comforting about being in the soft pants and loose t-shirt that smelled like Kit. A scent that brought back memories of dancing together at formal events, of being close enough to breathe in his natural musk and preferred toiletries.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Kit was in the kitchen tossing a salad.

‘Oh hey, I made up the spare room for you,’ Kit told him. It was so matter of fact, not like Robert had just wandered back into his life out of the blue after everything. But not quite like they had still been friends all these years either. A strange but tentatively-easy middle ground.

‘Thanks, I really am very grateful,’ Robert said as he slid into the stool at the breakfast bar, facing Kit where he was starting to plate the pasta and salad.

‘You’re welcome here,’ Kit said softly.

Robert nodded his acknowledgement and took a seat at the breakfast bar in silence, unsure what to say, what to ask. They were barely eighteen years old when they’d last spoken. He was sure so much had happened in Kit’s life since then.

It had to be obvious from the fact that Robert had known where to find him, that he’d been keeping tabs on Kit to a degree. That was perhaps something he should voice at least? He cleared his throat as Kit set the plates in front of them and took the seat opposite.

‘I… haven’t been spying on you or anything. Just checked in with your brother here and there. He told me about your job, about being in the city. I knew which street. I just walked, looking at the names on buzzers until I found you.’

Kit was still grinning as though this was all pretty amusing, which Robert supposed it oddly was. He shook his head as though to dismiss Robert’s concerns.

‘Lucky I only changed my first name, then,’ Kit chuckled.

Despite the opening, Robert didn’t think it was the time to press about that, so he began to tentatively pick over his food. It looked and smelled great, but his appetite was lacking, after everything.

Kit looked at him with a sad expression that wasn’t quite pity and placed his hand over the top of Robert’s.

‘Hey, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need. As long as you want.’

Robert bit his lower lip and nodded. ‘Thank you. I wasn’t sure you’d be welcoming.’

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think, and his breath caught in his throat as he looked at Kit’s frown, feeling the stiffness of his hand.

‘What does that mean?’ There was genuine confusion there and suddenly Robert couldn’t take in air fast enough.

‘I just… always assumed I had done something to make you leave. I…’ He didn’t want to say it out loud but forced himself to. ‘I thought you must have known, or suspected and you… You didn’t want me and maybe felt betrayed that I never said anything. But truthfully, I didn’t even have the vocabulary for this back then. I had barely even heard the word transgender much less fit it to myself.’

Robert’s tone was desperate and he wished he could take the words back as Kit’s face fell.

‘Fuck,’ Kit muttered under his breath and shook his head, looking down and taking a breath before turning back to Robert and letting out a sigh. ‘It was never that, Bertie. Never. And I’m sorry, because I should have said something or I shouldn’t have run like a fucking coward. Or at least once I worked this all out in my head, once I came to terms with my own shit I should have gotten in touch with you. I nearly did so many times but… I…’ He shrugged. ‘So much time had passed.’

It was Robert’s turn to frown as he tried to understand the meaning behind Kit’s ardent words.

‘I don’t—’

‘I knew. I always knew. I knew you were a boy. I didn't have the words for it either. But I knew. And it terrified me that I loved you. That I wanted you. It terrified me to acknowledge what that meant about myself,’ Kit admitted, growling the words slightly.

Robert blinked and shook his head. ‘I don't understand.’

‘I… Fuck. I hadn't meant to say this. But I guess it's just been stewing all these years and now you're here.’ Kit let out a deep breath and squeezed Robert's hand before releasing it and stepping up from his stool.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and paced the kitchen for a moment before stopping in front of Robert again. After a moment he calmed and sat.

‘I loved you. I mean… I was in love with you. You were the one constant in my life from the day we met, and I don't know when those feelings went from being childhood friends to more. Probably around the same time I realised you were a boy. And I didn't care. I knew I should. But the situation… Damn, the weight on my shoulders. On yours too. Our families.’ He shook his head again and Robert was sure he saw tears in his eyes.

He understood. It had always been hard for Christopher Montgomery. Being nobility had not shielded him from the discrimination he received from being mixed race, in the media especially.

Cedric Montgomery had been an old-school colonial who happened to fall in love with Abebe, a beautiful woman from a well-respected family, equivalent to nobility in the small nation with which Montgomery had diplomatic connections. To some, it was a beautiful love story; to others, Abebe Montgomery and her children were viewed more harshly.

It hadn't been lost on Robert over the years how Christopher might be one of the few people of his acquaintance who would understand what it was to be judged on how he looked, who he was, on something he couldn't change.

It had made the loss of him from his life, when he was only just starting to explore his gender identity, all the harder.

Robert reached across and grabbed Kit's hand before he had a chance to move.

‘It's okay, I understand. I…’ He looked away, stopping himself from apologising for who he was and the impact that he’d had on Kit.

Kit laced their fingers together. ‘No, you don't. I mean… I was in love with you and it made me realise I was gay and I just. I couldn't. I couldn't do that to my parents. It shouldn’t matter but it does, it did. It would have broken them. So I ran and I fucking shouldn't have; you should hate me. I was a coward and I left you there all alone.’

Robert shook his head and smiled, ‘No. You were my best friend and I loved you too. I thought you didn't want me and I didn't blame you.’

‘Shh,’ Kit hushed him. ‘Please don't say that.’

Robert let out a deep breath and they fell into silence for a moment, hands still laced on the counter between them.

‘Are you… You never got married or…’ Robert started tentatively. He'd never asked, never wanted to know.

Kit huffed a laugh and then chuckled lightly, bringing Robert's hand to his mouth and brushing his lips over his knuckles.

‘No one ever took the spot you had in my heart. That you have… if you want it. If we can start over, get to know each other again.’

Robert let out a shuddering breath.

*

Kit moaned into the kiss.

They had been standing there, gazing at each other, and then they were kissing and he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more.

He’d dated men here and there in the last few years, exploring his sexuality, getting to know what he liked. But he'd never really connected with anyone on an emotional level. Even when he’d wanted to. It was just never there.

Perhaps if Bertie hadn’t been someone he regularly read about in the media he might have been able to move on and forget him. He’d even considered leaving the country so many times, but he couldn’t do that either. Couldn’t leave and have nothing, no link to Bertie no matter how tentative.

Kissing Bertie felt right and so good. It felt like a return to a comfort they had found in each other as children, before life had become complicated for both of them.

Bertie let out a little whimper and pulled back, tears in the corners of his eyes.

‘This is so much… this is…’ He trailed off and Kit felt a wave of panic, stepping back a little to give him space. Had he misread? Misunderstood?

Bertie let out a shuddering breath and stepped after him, pressing himself against Kit’s chest, Kit automatically enveloping his arms around him.

‘I thought you hated me.’

Kit shook his head. ‘I loved you.’

Bertie looked up, tilting his head and they were kissing again. Frantic this time, as though making up for all those lost years. He could feel Bertie’s free-flowing tears against his skin as they began alternating between undressing each other and themselves. Just ripping at any clothing between them in their desperation for flesh to press against flesh.

When Kit realised that the draw cord of Bertie’s pants was loose, he took hold of them, pulling them down, underwear and all, as he dropped to his knees.

His cock pulsed and his mouth watered as he took in the sight before him. Bertie's phalloplasty hung waiting. It was a perfect size and shape, perfect like Bertie.

Kit took hold of Bertie at the root and lifted him to his mouth, licking over the tip.

‘Ung…’ Bertie let out a strangled sort of sound. ‘Kit…’

Kit continued his attentions, gently positioning Bertie to an erect position as he realised that some sort of rod inside made him pliable in this way.

Then he sank his mouth down and took in as much of Bertie as possible, moving his hand to fondle Bertie’s balls.

‘Oh… Oh god…’ Bertie mumbled, his hands sliding into Kit’s barely-there curls and gripping tight to his scalp. ‘It’s too much…’

At the first tug of his hair, Kit pulled back.

‘Sorry, I should have asked, are you comfortable with—’

Bertie dropped to his knees and took Kit’s mouth again, before he could finish his question.

Another minute passed. The frenetic kisses slowed to something more gentle and sensual, until they were both moaning.

Finally Bertie pulled back, flushed and beautiful.

‘I’ve never…’ Colour rose even further on his cheeks and then Kit’s did the same once he realised what Bertie was trying to say.

‘It’s okay. That's okay, and we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,’ Kit reassured him.

Bertie smiled softly, almost shyly, and bit at his lower lip. ‘I never wanted to before I was really me. And then I couldn’t trust anyone enough with this. And I never, um. Never really wanted anyone, except you.’

Kit felt a pang in his chest. He could have made love with Bertie a long time ago. He pushed the thought aside. It didn’t matter now, they had talked and made the peace that they needed to.

‘Fuck, Bertie—’

Bertie shook his head and frowned.

‘I’m not completely innocent you know. I have fully mastered jerking off and a range of sex toys,’ Bertie joked lightly.

Kit returned the grin that spread across Bertie’s face. A grown-up version of the humour they had always shared.

Kit started getting to his feet and held out a hand to help Bertie up too. ‘To bed, Robert,’ Kit said softly, barely above a gentle whisper. They took each other's hand once they were both standing. Then Kit gave Bertie a light tug, leading him towards the bedroom.

‘Please call me Bertie,’ he replied, equally quiet but forceful, a request not a plea but desperate all the same.

*

Bertie was shaking. Trembling.

He stood in front of the bed, naked and flushed. His face and chest were red as he watched Kit strip off the last of his clothes until they stood facing each other in a way they never had before.

Bertie’s breath caught in his throat.

‘You’re so… so beautiful…’ He had searched for the word and come up with the only one that would fit.

Naked, Kit was athletically muscular and in good shape; clearly he worked out regularly. A smattering of tight, dark curls lay across his chest and Bertie couldn’t help remember all the times they’d spent in the lake as children, innocently half-naked. How they had both changed.

He remembered how his own skin would tan, his freckles darken. In contrast, now he was paler than he ever had been before, so reclusive had he become.

Bertie let out a sigh. It didn’t take much to imagine how well their bodies would fit against each other – his head against Kit’s chest, fingers playing with the hair there.

‘You’re staring,’ Kit chuckled after a few minutes, before moving close enough to breathe words into Bertie’s ear. ‘Don’t worry, I was staring too. You’re gorgeous. I can’t tell you how often I have wanted this.’

Bertie trembled again, taking in a shuddering breath.

He hadn’t ever thought of this. He’d never allowed himself to. It was too painful, when all he could believe was that his friend, his betrothed, had not wanted him. But now his thoughts were completely consumed by making love with Kit.

Kit brought his hands up, running them over Bertie’s bare back and around him, pulling him close and leaning in to kiss him.

And Bertie whimpered into it, feeling Kit harden against him, pressing against his own ready length.

Kit pulled away to trail kisses down his neck before finding his ear again, the words coming out a low rumble as Kit asked, ‘Will you fuck me? I want to feel you inside me.’

Bertie let out a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, feeling his arousal almost painfully.

‘I… I’ve…’ Bertie started; the idea of taking Kit was immediately enthralling, only his lack of experience made him nervous.

‘I’ve got this,’ Kit reassured him, taking his hands and stepping back slightly. ‘If you want to?’

‘Yes,’ Bertie replied without hesitation, his heart already thumping erratically in his chest.

Kit’s grin was soft and he moved to the bed, lowering himself down as he pulled Bertie with him until they were on their sides facing each other. They gazed at each other as Kit ran his hand up and down Bertie’s side, before running it up to his jaw, cupping it and pulling him into a kiss.

Bertie moaned, all the more so when Kit shuffled closer so that their bodies were flush against each other. Kit took Bertie’s hand and placed it on his ass, and Bertie squeezed his eyes tight shut as he squeezed Kit’s buttock.

It was firm and toned, and the whole thing felt suddenly intimidating, and Bertie moved his hand up to Kit’s hip.

‘Sorry,’ he apologised softly against Kit’s lips, his face burning.

‘Nothing to be sorry for, we’ll take this as slow as you want. We can stop at any time,’ Kit reassured him again, and Bertie nodded before seeking Kit’s lips again.

He wanted to. In some ways he needed to. To know this was really real and really happening, not just some wish mysteriously granted like in the storybooks.

They kissed for a few minutes, languid and deep. Kit had started to rut against him, his hard cock leaking as his hips made little thrusts. Within minutes they were rocking against each other, both chasing the friction they were creating, grasping at each other and panting until Bertie was sure they were going to come.

But then Kit stopped and pulled back, catching his breath. He rolled away, digging into a bedside drawer and coming back with a bottle of lube. He pumped some onto his fingers before placing it on the bed.

‘I need you,’ Kit moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he hiked one leg up to Bertie’s hip and then reached his slicked hand behind him.

Bertie whimpered, knowing what Kit was doing. Watching Kit’s face contort in desperate pleasure, the flex of his arm as he pumped fingers in and out, clearly relaxing into the penetration, slicking himself.

Emboldened by thoughts of inciting these feelings in Kit, Bertie felt around on the bed for the lube and then poured some onto his own fingers once he had. He took a steadying breath before reaching around and sliding his fingers over Kit’s.

Kit moaned and shuddered when Bertie’s fingers felt around his hole, where he pumped his own fingers all the faster.

‘Kit…’ Bertie gasped his name.

‘There, Bertie, please darling…’ Kit groaned the words as Bertie slid his fingers next to Kit’s, gently pushing into his relaxed hole. ‘Oh fuck,’ Kit gasped and Bertie felt his cock strain against him. Kit stilled and Bertie did the same.

They lay there quiet and panting for a moment before Kit regained his breath.

‘I want you to fuck me right now; I want to come with you inside me.’ Kit's words were ardent but his expression was cautious, allowing Bertie to say no.

Bertie was already nodding, pulling his fingers out and rolling away to try and work out what position they should be in. But Kit stopped him.

‘Hold on.’ He reached to the side again and then presented a condom packet to Bertie, who nodded and fumbled. After a moment Kit took it, opening the packet and looking deeply into Bertie’s eyes as he rolled it onto him.

Bertie let out a shocked gasp.

Kit pulled him down and rested his forehead against Bertie’s. Breath laboured, his expression almost pained.

‘Kit…’ Bertie moaned, glad when Kit actually finished rolling it on. It was overwhelming and every nerve in his body felt like it was alight.

‘I want you so much, I always have…’ It came out of Kit’s mouth, almost a lament. But Bertie understood. If they had both been what their families expected and wanted, they’d be married by now. It was surreal to think of it that way.

Instead he was trans and Kit was gay. And in this weird, fucked up situation they’d found themselves in, suddenly the world was the right way up again. In some ways Bertie was glad that his uncle had outed him and this chain of events had led him to Kit’s bed.

To Kit.

‘Here,’ Kit said, finally catching his breath and pulling away to shove a pillow under his hips as Bertie watched. ‘Please…’

It was practically a moan, and the desperation in Kit’s eyes wasn’t lost on Bertie.

‘Okay.’ Bertie nodded, reassuring himself as much as anything else as he moved. The bed dipped with him, and then he was settled between Kit’s legs.

Kit’s cock was throbbing and leaking. Bertie was tempted to taste him, but uncertainty stopped him. He had longed to do things like this, to explore another person’s body, but yes, Kit’s was better than just anyone’s. And now he had the opportunity he was terrified of getting things wrong and being too inexperienced.

So, even as his mouth watered and his palms itched, he didn’t place hands or mouth on Kit. Instead he moved forward and pressed his cock to Kit’s slicked entrance.

‘It’s okay,’ Kit muttered softly. ‘It’s easy, it’s instinct. Just push insi—’

Kit cut off with a grunt as Bertie did as instructed, slowly pressing forward and feeling the sensation of Kit tight around him.

‘Oh my god, oh, Kit…’ Bertie rambled, his body shaking again as he tried to process these new sensations. Sensations he wanted to enjoy again and again.

‘You feel so good…’ Kit struggled to get the words out, his face lax with pleasure but his body tense with the sensation. ‘More… you can… more…’

Bertie nodded and swallowed before taking hold of Kit’s hips and pushing further, deeper.

Kit’s grunts turned to moans. And then he jolted, his muscles tensing outside and in.

Bertie gasped and shook.

‘There, right there, Bertie…’ Kit panted the words and moved his hands to Bertie’s arms, digging into the sweaty flesh.

Bertie started to move, finding his own pleasure in the friction of thrusting in and out, increasingly aroused by Kit’s sounds and expressions. Kit was losing himself to the pleasure Bertie was giving him and that gave Bertie a sense of joy he couldn’t quite describe.

Kit’s cock had briefly flagged but was at full hardness again, and Kit took it in hand, pumping himself in time with Bertie’s thrusts and letting out a little cry every time Bertie grazed his prostate.

‘I’m gonna come,’ Kit warned, his whole body now covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

‘I want you to.’ Bertie breathed out the words, watching Kit’s hand before placing his own over it. He wanted to feel it, wanted to feel what it was like to come like that.

Kit winced for a moment at the touch of Bertie’s fingers and then linked them with his so that they were stroking his cock together.

‘Will you come?’ Kit asked, breathless.

Bertie nodded. He was sure he would. He had no basis for comparison but he could feel his orgasm pooling. It was like when he jerked off but more. More intense, more friction. Warmer. Beautiful.

Bertie cried out as Kit grunted and clenched around him, Kit’s cock pulsing as he came on his belly and chest, his release catching in the hairs there.

He could feel Kit tightening around him, could see his balls drawing tight and cock throbbing. It was perfect. It was everything.

Bertie almost wanted to pull out. It was so much, so intense. But he was so close.

He thrust into the constrictions around him, savouring the squeeze and friction as he chased his own release, not entirely sure he would achieve it until—

‘Kit…’ Bertie cried out his lover’s name, his hands finding Kit’s shoulders and digging into them as he came. He shuddered through his orgasm, still feeling the tremors of Kit’s and practically sobbing at the sensation.

‘Hey, hey… it’s okay… are you okay?’ Kit’s words were gentle as Bertie slowed and stopped, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

Bertie shook his head dismissively as he answered, ‘I’m fine. More than fine… I…’ He couldn’t get any further words out so instead collapsed on top of Kit, feeling his lover's spend between them as they clung to each other.

‘I’ve got you…’ Kit muttered against his ear as they held on to each other. Bertie remembered the times he had said that when they were kids, the times where his friend had been there for him over a hurt knee or hurt feelings.

Anything he needed. Kit had always done everything he'd needed, been everything he'd needed back then.

‘I know,’ Bertie replied with a sob.

*

It had been the early hours of the morning when they’d finally started to nod off, but it felt like no time had passed at all when Kit was woken by movement next to him.

He was immediately awake, expecting to see Bertie leaving, and terrified that it would be the case.

But instead Bertie was still there, soundly asleep, or so it seemed. After a minute Bertie moved again, jolting slightly and whimpering. Clearly having a bad dream.

‘Shh,’ Kit whispered, wrapping himself around Bertie and holding him as he shook. ‘I’ve got you.’

Bertie let out a sob and then a gasp as he woke. He struggled for a moment against Kit before realising where he was and settling.

‘I’m sorry I was…’ Bertie started, still trying to catch his breath. He was shaking and had tears in his eyes.

‘It’s okay. There's been a lot going on. But you’re safe here, okay?’ Kit reassured him and Bertie relaxed against him.

‘You don’t have to be so nice,’ Bertie said, clearly trying to make light. ‘I’m not royalty anymore, I don’t think.’

‘You’ll always be a prince to me.’ Kit muttered the words into Bertie’s hair.

Bertie let out a light laugh and then sighed.

Kit released a soft sigh of his own, sleep tugging at him but not quite managing to take him over once more. He wanted to savour having Bertie in his arms.

‘You changed your name because you didn’t feel like the old you, right? You didn’t feel like your father’s son,’ Bertie said quietly, stroking his fingers through Kit’s chest hair.

Kit let out a long breath and nodded. ‘Yeah. I wasn’t Christopher. I wasn’t the duke that my parents expected I would grow to be. I wasn’t like them. I didn't want to be.’

Bertie nodded and snuggled against his side as Kit ran a hand over the smooth skin of the prince’s back. He’d known Bertie of all people would understand. The nobility had become accepting of many things, but open and out people in their ranks wasn't one of them.

‘So you prefer Robert? Rob?’ Kit asked.

‘Neither really. I was just very unimaginative when I changed my name. And… I guess I felt sort of tied to my, um, my birth name. An obligation to keep my royal name.’ He shrugged. ‘Felt like I had to. Sometimes I wish I had gone with something else.’

‘Why don’t you? What’s to say you can’t change it again?’ Kit asked, knowing Bertie would hear the fight in those words, that Kit was ready to stand behind him on the matter.

‘Maybe I will.’ Bertie smiled. ‘But I like Bertie. From you, anyway. It was the only name that felt right when I was growing up. I always hoped that you saw the real me.’

‘I did,’ Kit confirmed, pressing a kiss to Bertie’s temple. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you back then.’

‘Better late than never,’ Bertie joked.

Before either of them could speak again, Kit’s alarm clock sounded and he untangled himself from Bertie to reach over and turn it off. He’d call in and let work know he had a personal emergency and couldn’t come in today. He wasn’t even considering for one moment leaving Bertie. Not again.

He settled back in the bed and pulled Bertie to him. The prince hesitated for a moment before allowing himself to be nestled in Kit’s arms. As though he had been expecting Kit to leave him, or kick him out.

That pretty much seemed confirmed by his next words.

‘What do we do now? Sh—should I leave? I don’t want to impose…’ Bertie sounded so scared in that moment that Kit couldn’t help but pull him closer, peppering kisses down his neck.

‘I told you, you can stay here as long as you like. As long as you need,’ Kit reassured him. There were so many other things he wanted to say, all rushing around in his brain. He settled for softly murmuring, ‘I want you to stay for as long as you want. I don’t want to lose you again.’

He felt Bertie shudder against him and then relax. Relief almost palpable.

‘Should I follow your example? I could get a job, be a normal person.’ Despite the light tone, Kit was sure Bertie wasn't joking.

‘I encourage this, for my own selfish reasons,’ Kit replied as he held Bertie close. ‘And you're perfectly normal.’ Kit's correction was met with a short, derisive laugh.

Kit smiled at the reaction before adding onto the end, the suitable honorific, ‘Your Highness.’

Bertie’s chuckle made his heart swell.

Their journeys had been convoluted and separate, but with Bertie in Kit’s arms, it finally felt like everything was exactly how it was meant to be.

‘One day the history books will call this a modern fairy tale,’ Kit mused, overjoyed at the deep laugh it drew from Bertie.

His Prince.

Max Turner:

Max Turner is a gay transgender man based in the United Kingdom. He is also a parent, nerd, intersectional feminist, and coffee addict. Max writes speculative and science fiction, fantasy, urban fantasy, gothic horror and LGBTQ+ romance, and more often than not, combinations thereof.

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