The show never really addresses this so I thought I would write a bit. There’s a bit more if people like it. It’s a bit racy in spots.
17 year old Philippe lay on the sofa in his salon reading a book. A not very interesting book but lately nothing seemed very interesting to him. It had been an exceedingly long winter locked up in the Palais Royal and he was bored. Louis no longer had time for him. Being king and finding a queen was all he cared about. There was the Compte de Guiche to amuse him but…he sighed and looked back down at the book. Sometimes the compte scared him, made him feel worse than alone…but maybe that was what he deserved. He jumped with a start as the royal guards flung open the doors to the chamber. He was even more surprised to see his brother. He smiled at Louis. “What are you doing here?”
Louis frowned. “Everyone else rises when I enter a room.”
“Everyone else doesn’t know that you slept with a stuffed dog until you were 12,” Philippe replied with a smirk.
Louis scowled and then laughed. “I thought I might go for a ride. It’s quite warm out today. Would you join me?”
Philippe tossed his book on the floor. “Give me a moment to change.”
“They may be a bit feisty today, your majesty,” the Comte d'Harcourt warned. “They’ve been cooped up inside all winter.”
“I know how they feel,” Philippe muttered. He swung up on his white stallion. The horse whinnied and pranced eager to be off. “Just a moment, boy,” Philippe whispered soothingly to the horse, scratching the horse’s ears.
“The king will be fine, father,” the Comte d'Armagnac assured the older man. “He is an excellent rider. Your majesty, if you please.” He held his hand out to assist the king onto the horse as protocol demanded.
Louis swung up. “We’ll take them to Champs Elysee. That’ll cure the winter doldrums.”
A younger boy about 15 with a lion’s mane of blond hair joined the group. “Father, the new Arabian has….” He saw Philippe and suddenly forgot his purpose. He had never seen anyone more beautiful.
Philippe turned to the new arrival and unconsciously loosed the reins of his horse. The horse returned to prancing and cavorting nearly unseating its rider. Philippe stared at the blond angel in front of him…the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It was a moment before he noticed that he had lost control of the horse. He gathered up the reins, forcing the horse to stay still but was unable take his eyes off the angel.
“Your majesty, I am not sure you remember my brother, Philippe, the Chevalier de Lorraine. He’s just arrived at court,” the Comte d'Armagnac said to Louis.
“Your majesty,” the chevalier said, bowing properly to the king.
The Compte d'Harcourt watched the proceedings with wariness and hostility.
The chevalier rose and chanced another look at Philippe who, he was pleased to learn, was still looking at him.
“My brother, Philippe, the Duc d'Anjou,” Louis said. “I’m sure the two of you met as children. Was it that one summer….”
“Saint-Germain, I believe,” Armagnac said.
Philippe vaguely heard Louis and Armagnac speaking but it was difficult as he felt like he had been transported somewhere else. Some Eden where only he and the angel…the Chevalier de Lorraine existed.
“Your highness,” the chevalier murmured and bowed to Philippe.
Philippe found that he hated seeing the chevalier bow as doing so hid his face.
The chevalier rose and looked Philippe in the eyes.
Philippe suddenly found it difficult to breathe.
The chevalier smiled at Philippe.
Philippe briefly lost control of the horse again, gathered it back up, and then smiled at the chevalier.
“Shall we, brother?” Louis asked, oblivious.
Philippe looked at Louis with a moment’s confusion and then remembered why he was on a horse. He could think of nothing he wanted to do less now but nodded.
Louis led them out of the stable yard and Philippe followed. He glanced back to see the chevalier watching him. He was rewarded with another smile from his blond angel before the Comte d'Harcourt directed the chevalier back into the stables.
Later that day, Philippe frantically combed through racks and racks of clothes in his dressing room but he hated everything he owned. He had already tried on several ensembles with no success. He had absolutely nothing to wear. He flashed to the blond angel and felt a bit nauseous. His stomach was roiling. Perhaps he was getting sick? He forced himself to return to the task at hand and finally chose a dark brocade coat. At least it was new.
The chevalier stared at his reflection in the mirror but his mind was on Philippe as it had been all day. He barely even remembered the argument with his father though his ribs were tender so clearly it had not gone well. He banished his father from his mind and returned to the much more pleasant thought of Philippe Bourbon. He felt a bit nervous to see him again but it was a good nervousness. Excitement. He had chosen a blue brocade coat that he knew complimented him. He must make up for any impression of being a glorified stable boy. Of all the times to be introduced to…he did not quite have a word for Philippe. What word could really sum up what he felt when he first saw him? The French language was not up to the task.
Philippe followed Louis into the dining room and sat at his customary place to Louis’ left. He looked around as discreetly as he could manage for the chevalier and found him standing beside his brother looking even more beautiful than Philippe remembered him. His stomach gave a disturbing lurch. Do. Not. Vomit.
The chevalier felt Philippe’s presence a second before he saw him…even more beautiful than he remembered him though the dark gray brocade did him no favors. Why would someone so beautiful hide in shadows? He felt Philippe’s eyes on him and smiled slightly.
Philippe smiled back, the slight nausea being joined by an ache further south. His face felt hot and his heart was beating much too fast. Maybe he really was getting sick. Typhoid perhaps?
With dinner over though not eaten, Philippe followed Louis into the salon for the night’s entertainment. It would be cards without doubt. Louis had lost to the Chevalier de Rohan the night before and would be eager to regain his dignity.
As Louis headed to the card table, Philippe wandered to a corner wondering where the chevalier was. He saw him across the room at the card table. His brother would play, of course, being part of Louis’ little gang of friends. Philippe considered walking over to the table. It was unlikely Louis would let him play and highly likely that he would humiliate him for asking. He was not so nice with his friends around.
“Hiding again, I see,” the Comte de Guiche said. “Come. We’ll play our own game of hide and seek.”
Philippe was a bit startled by the count as he had been busy staring at the chevalier. In fact, Guiche’s presence was decidedly unwelcome. “I do not feel like it tonight.”
“Whatever made you think you have a choice,” Guiche sneered grabbing Philippe’s arm roughly.
“Let go. You’re hurting me,” Philippe cried.
“I will hurt you a lot more if you do not come with me now,” Guiche said tightening his grip on Philippe’s arm.
“I do not want to,” Philippe said grimacing in pain.
“I do not understand why you think that matters to me,” Guiche said as he half dragged Philippe toward a private alcove.
“I believe the duke has made himself clear,” the chevalier said quietly to Guiche as he approached them.
Philippe looked at the chevalier in shock and then at Guiche with fear.
“Mind your own business,” Guiche snapped. “This is a private conversation.”
“A conversation? Are you sure? Because what it looks like is that you are assaulting a prince of France in full view of the court which I believe to be more treason than conversation,” the chevalier said. “And I must say, that coat is committing its own host of crimes against humanity.”
Philippe giggled despite his fear and then quickly put a hand over his mouth.
The conversation, despite its hushed tones, was starting to generate some interest among nearby courtiers.
Guiche looked around at the growing crowd. “You will regret this,” he hissed at Philippe. He let go of Philippe’s arm and stormed out of the salon.
Philippe rubbed his arm already feeling it bruising.
“Nothing more to see here,” the chevalier told the courtiers. “Back to losing the shirts off your backs.”
The courtiers turned away.
“Are you well, your highness?” the chevalier asked Philippe. “Did he hurt you?”
Philippe shook his head. “You should not have done that,” he said quietly.
“You wanted to go with him?” the chevalier asked a bit confused.
“No but…he is angry now,” Philippe said.
“Why are you with someone who frightens you?”
“He does not frighten me,” Philippe said convincing no one.
“He is a boor and a brute. You deserve better,” the chevalier said.
Philippe looked unconvinced.
“Let me show you,” the chevalier said. He confiscated a bottle of champagne and a plate of macaroons from a nearby table. “Will you come with me?”
Philippe nodded and smiled slightly.
The chevalier led Philippe through a nearby door onto a balcony. Music from the night’s entertainment wafted through the still chilly spring air. The chevalier set down the champagne and macaroons and held out his hand to Philippe. “Dance with me?”
Philippe stared at the proffered hand, his heart thudding in his chest, his stomach roiling, his palms…sweaty? He considered running away in embarrassment but the desire to touch the angel was too great. He took the chevalier’s hand.
The chevalier smiled at Philippe and pulled him into his arms whirling him around the makeshift dance floor.
Philippe laughed and suddenly felt a hundred pounds lighter. “You’re a good dancer,” he said.
“You’re extraordinarily graceful which makes it easier,” the chevalier said whirling Philippe out and back against his chest. The music slowed and he tightened his grip on Philippe’s waist.
Philippe tried to focus on breathing but he was so close to him. Their bodies were pressed together. He could smell the light scent of lavender in the chevalier’s hair. Hair that was brushing his face. Eyes that were staring into his. His entire body ached.
The chevalier could not remember ever being so attracted to anyone. It was taking every ounce of self control he could muster not to kiss those pink lips that were mere inches away from his. He tried looking into Philippe’s eyes but those were excruciatingly beautiful as well. “Isn’t this better?” he asked in an effort to distract himself.
“Much,” Philippe said softly, surprised he was capable of speech. “How…how was your first day at court?” he managed.
“It started off poorly but greatly improved shortly after lunch,” the chevalier said and smiled.
“Have you forgotten so soon?”
Philippe shook his head, lost in the chevalier’s eyes.
“You were so beautiful,” the chevalier said softly. “I forgot what I was doing.”
Philippe looked a little surprised that he had such impact. “I felt the same. I forgot to hold the reins,” he admitted sheepishly. “You look like an angel….”
The chevalier kissed Philippe gently, his lips lingering on pink lips.
Philippe felt himself melting into the chevalier’s arms, head pleasantly spinning as he returned the kiss.
“I have been thinking about that all day,” the chevalier murmured against Philippe’s lips.
“As have I,” Philippe said. “I was disappointed you were not there when we returned.”
“My father…I would have been but…it does not matter,” the chevalier said banishing his father and focusing on Philippe in his arms. “I am here now.” He kissed Philippe again gentleness giving way to passion as Philippe opened his mouth to receive the chevalier’s eager tongue. He pushed Philippe against the outside wall of the palace, his fingers tangled in silky ebony hair, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths. He grimaced slightly as Philippe pulled him closer irritating a rib.
“Are you well? Did I do something wrong?” Philippe asked.
“I’m well. Everything you’re doing is so right.” He kissed Philippe again happy to be met with immediate and equal response.
Philippe felt himself drowning in desire. His lips, his tongue, his skin felt like fire. He rubbed against the chevalier wanting more than kisses. He pulled the chevalier’s shirt out of his breeches and felt bare skin that was as hot as his own.
The chevalier moved his hands from Philippe’s hair to Philippe’s ass pressing their groins together. He moaned as he felt Philippe rubbing against him. He untied Philippe’s breeches, needing bare skin. He barely noticed the door opening and closing but something in his mind registered “no longer alone”. “Fuck me,” he hissed and disentangled himself from Philippe.
“What…” Philippe asked in confusion. His lips were swollen, his head was swimming, and losing the chevalier’s touch was more than he could bear. It was a moment before he registered the drunk courtesan staring at him.
“You’re the Duc d….” the courtesan slurred.
“A duke? My Jacques?” the chevalier laughed. “Perhaps you’ve had a bit too much champagne, my dear.” He looked pointedly at Philippe silently pleading with him to play along.
“But…” the courtesan said.
“Do you know, I heard the Duc de Burgundy asking about you earlier,” the chevalier told the courtesan.
“You did?” the courtesan asked already thinking how jealous her friends would be to have to call her duchess.
“I did. Why would I lie to you?” the chevalier confirmed.
“You wouldn’t, of course,” the courtesan said. “I must go to him!” She opened the door and hurried back inside.
“I expect an invitation to the wedding!” the chevalier called after her.
Philippe laughed as the door closed. “The Duc de Burgundy is five years old. It is well past his bed time.”
The chevalier turned back to Philippe. “It worked, did it not?” he asked without apology.
“You may look like an angel but you are not one,” Philippe said.
“Does that disappoint you?” the chevalier asked.
The chevalier kissed Philippe and pressed him back against the wall, tongues exploring, grinding against each other.
“Maybe somewhere more private,” Philippe gasped between kisses. “The next person who comes out here may actually know the Duc de Burgundy.”
“Did you have somewhere in mind?” the chevalier asked his lips against Philippe’s.
“My rooms…are…somewhere….” Philippe murmured.
The chevalier laughed his mouth pressed against Philippe’s ear. “We should try to find them then. Can you remember a general direction?”
“Maybe…but you must stop kissing me. I knew exactly where they were before that started,” Philippe said, kissing the chevalier.
“You are kissing me. You must stop yourself,” the chevalier said kissing Philippe.
“I cannot,” Philippe said still kissing the chevalier.
The chevalier made a Herculean effort and took a step away from Philippe. “Think.”
Philippe tried to redirect blood to his brain.
“Must we retrace your steps?” the chevalier asked.
“We have to go back…in there,” Philippe said.
The chevalier surveyed Philippe, messy hair, swollen lips, breeches untied. “That is not ideal.”
“There is another way,” Philippe remembered and looked over the balcony to the shrubbery below. It had not yet bloomed and its branches did not look at all welcoming.
The chevalier looked over as well. “So we must go back through the salon.” He tucked Philippe’s shirt back into his breeches and retied them and then did the same to his own. He ran his fingers through Philippe’s hair basically calming it. “There is nothing I can do about these,” he said touching Philippe’s swollen lips with his own. “We should avoid extended conversation if possible.”
Philippe nodded. “What about that?” He gestured to the champagne and macaroons.
“They may be needed…later,” the chevalier said. He filled Philippe’s coat pockets with macaroons and then hid the champagne in his own coat. “Walk quickly, make no eye contact.”
The chevalier opened the door and they re-entered the salon. On plan, they walked quickly to the nearest set of double doors and straight into Anne of Austria.
“Mother,” Philippe stammered through lips that he was sure could be seen for miles.
“Philippe,” Anne said a touch suspicious. “Who is your friend?”
“I am Philippe, the Chevalier de Lorraine, your majesty,” the chevalier volunteered, bowing to Anne.
“Your father is the Comte d'Harcourt, is he not? I had heard that his younger son would be joining us. Welcome to court,” Anne said politely.
“Thank you, your majesty.”
“Where are the two of you off to?” Anne asked with interest.
“Billiards!” Philippe spit out.
Anne’s suspicion grew. “You hate billiards.”
“I…I…” Philippe stuttered.
“He dislikes it because he is not good at it but I believe I can remedy that,” the chevalier explained.
“Then we will be in your debt. I should warn you, you have your work cut out for you,” Anne said not believing any of it.
“I am sure I am up for the challenge, your majesty,” the chevalier assured Anne.
“Well, I shan’t keep you,” Anne said. “Do try to follow the chevalier’s instruction, my son.” She kissed Philippe on the cheek and walked away.
“Excellent advice,” the chevalier said with a smirk.
“Come. Our escape route is clear,” the chevalier said and quickly left the salon with Philippe on his heels. “Which way?”
“Up the stairs, end of the hall, and to the right,” Philippe said.
“Good. Now that your room has been relocated, I can do this again,” the chevalier said and then kissed Philippe.
Philippe tangled his fingers in the chevalier’s hair, his body melting into his, all thoughts of privacy forgotten.
The chevalier dragged his lips away from Philippe’s. “You are going to land me in the Bastille. We must find your room.”
“Then stop kissing me!” Philippe exclaimed a bit louder than intended.
“Then stop looking so kissable,” the chevalier begged.
Philippe smiled and pulled the chevalier in for a kiss.
“Your room, you wicked thing,” the chevalier murmured against Philippe’s lips.
Philippe took the chevalier’s hand and pulled him down the hall in the direction of his rooms. They made it nearly to the turn before Philippe found himself pinned against a marble wall with the chevalier’s tongue in his mouth.
“How much further?” the chevalier gasped between kisses. “Surely we must be in Spain by now.”
Philippe laughed and pushed the chevalier off him. He turned the corner and could see the royal guards in front of his room. “Nearly there.” He took the chevalier’s hand and pulled him down the hallway. The guards saw him, raised their spears, and opened the double doors for them.
The chevalier stopped momentarily at the sight of the royal guards as the full weight of what he was doing hit him. The king’s brother. Next in line to the throne. If this ends badly, the Bastille will be the best case scenario for you but…. He looked at Philippe standing inside the room looking at him. Philippe who he was already half in love with. Philippe who was looking at him now as if he could read his mind.
“I’ll understand,” Philippe said softly, sadly. “If it’s too much.” The words caused him physical pain.
The chevalier walked into the room and the guards closed the doors behind him, followed by the clang of steel on steel. He put his hands on Philippe’s face and kissed him tenderly. “You are worth it.”
Philippe smiled at the chevalier and then leaned in for more kisses.
The chevalier happily obliged, kissing Philippe, his hands pushing off Philippe’s coat and finding their way under shirt to find bare skin.
Philippe stumbled backward toward his room, still kissing the chevalier, his hands pulling shirt from breeches, fumbling with buttons.
The chevalier removed the champagne from his coat and set it on a bedside table then removed his coat and let it fall to the floor, his lips never leaving Philippe’s. He pushed Philippe back toward the bed until he saw a pile of clothes on it. “Dare I ask?”
Philippe looked at the pile and flushed. “I couldn’t decide what to wear.”
“Is this a typical problem?”
“No…I wanted…uh…I wanted you to notice me and I couldn’t decide what you would like,” Philippe admitted.
The chevalier smiled. “You would look beautiful in anything, my darling…or nothing.”
Philippe smiled. “That didn’t seem appropriate for dinner.”
“No though I certainly would have noticed,” the chevalier smirked. He let go of Philippe long enough to dump the pile of clothes to the floor. He unbuttoned Philippe’s vest, pushed it off his shoulders and added it to the pile.
Philippe watched the chevalier wide eyed.
The chevalier unbuttoned Philippe’s breeches, freeing his shirt tails and then lifted the shirt over Philippe’s head. “You are exquisite,” the chevalier said running his hands over Philippe’s bare chest. He could feel Philippe trembling.
“Why do you tremble, darling? Do you not want….”
Philippe shook his head. “I do want…you…make me tremble,” he whispered.
The chevalier kissed Philippe, his hands continuing their exploration.
Philippe unbuttoned the chevalier’s vest and pushed it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
The chevalier lifted his arms to help with shirt removal. He pulled Philippe against him, kissing him, relishing the feel of bare skin on bare skin. He pushed Philippe back on the bed and crawled on top of him, kissing him. He kissed down his chest, down his stomach, pausing to unbutton and remove his breeches. He took Philippe’s cock in his mouth and was surprised when every part of Philippe stiffened but his cock.
“Don’t!” Philippe sat up quickly, tucking his legs under his chin.
The chevalier crawled over to Philippe. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”
“It doesn’t work,” Philippe said barely audibly, his eyes downcast.
The chevalier swallowed shock and then kissed Philippe gently. “That’s okay, my darling. There are other ways to give you pleasure.”
Philippe looked confused but the chevalier kissed him and he was lost again. He unbuttoned the chevalier’s breeches and helped the chevalier take them off. He bent down and took the chevalier’s cock in his mouth, relishing the feel of it swelling and hardening against his tongue, the moans from the chevalier growing louder.
“Enough,” the chevalier moaned, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer that way. “I want to be inside you.”
Philippe nodded and turned his back to the chevalier.
“No. Not like that,” the chevalier said and turned Philippe around to face him and then pushed him back on the bed. “I want to see your beautiful face. Kiss your lips,” he murmured, his lips against Philippe’s. He gently entered Philippe still kissing him.
Philippe moaned as the chevalier filled him, with his cock, with his tongue, both thrusting.
The chevalier shifted Philippe slightly and thrust deeper.
Philippe cried out in pleasure. “What…please…yes….” he moaned incoherently. “Oh yes….” His hands pushed against the chevalier, pushing him in deeper.
The chevalier thrust deeper, harder into Philippe his orgasm growing. He felt Philippe hard between them and reached for his cock, rubbing in time to his thrusts.
Philippe was lost in waves of pleasure, no longer aware of anything but pleasure and then the waves were joined by an explosion and he felt he might faint from the sheer ecstasy of it. He squeezed the chevalier inside of him, felt the chevalier’s entire body spasming in pleasure inside of him, on top of him.
The chevalier collapsed on top of Philippe unable to move. He felt Philippe still squeezing him and moaned.
Philippe wrapped his arms and legs around the chevalier not wanting it to end. “That was…”
“…amazing,” the chevalier finished weakly, his face in Philippe’s hair where it had landed when his body had lost the ability to hold its own weight. He smelled of orange blossoms and pleasure and it was intoxicating.
“It did not ever feel like that before,” Philippe said.
The chevalier mustered all remaining strength and propped himself up enough to look at Philippe. “What do you mean?”
The chevalier frowned. “Whomever it was, the boorish count or whomever…they did it wrong. Also, my mignonette, your cock works just fine.”
Philippe looked confused. “Perhaps you fixed it.”
“Perhaps they didn’t bother to try and should never be allowed to touch you again,” the chevalier said. He touched Philippe’s face. “You deserve only pleasure, my darling.”
Philippe smiled and reached his head up for a kiss. “I don’t want them to touch me again,” he said as the chevalier showered his lips with tiny kisses.
“Good answer,” the chevalier said between kisses. “As I could not bear the thought of you with someone else.” He kissed Philippe, his lips lingering.
Philippe opened his mouth, his tongue joining the chevalier’s as the kiss deepened. He felt himself growing hard between them.
“See, it is an excellent cock, back at attention and ready for the next battle,” the chevalier said rubbing his own swelling cock against Philippe’s.
Philippe moaned. “Please. Again.”
“Aren’t you an insatiable mignonette?” the chevalier said with a smile. He moaned as he thrust deep into Philippe and settled back into a rhythm, slower this time but just as sweet.
The chevalier lay collapsed on top of Philippe unable to move. In fact, he was fairly certain he was drooling but nothing could be done about it. He listened to the thudding of Philippe’s heart as he recovered or maybe it was his own heart. He was no longer sure whose body parts were whose. It didn’t seem particularly important anyway. He thought there may have been a time before Philippe but that also didn’t seem particularly important. Some cold and distant memory and he was warm here with Philippe’s arms and legs wrapped around him.
“Are you awake?” Philippe asked, gently twirling a finger through the chevalier’s curls.
“Awake, yes. Something more than a gelatinous blob, no.”
Philippe laughed and squeezed the cocoon tighter.
“Did you need something?” the chevalier asked without moving.
“I am quite hungry. I did not eat dinner,” Philippe admitted.
“And why was that?” the chevalier asked wondering if he could reach the macaroons without moving.
“I…I thought it was typhoid but I think I was just nervous to see you again,” Philippe said a bit embarrassed.
“You confused your feelings for me with a debilitating disease?” the chevalier asked unsure whether to be offended or not.
Philippe laughed. “It would seem so, yes, but the end problem is the same. I’m hungry.”
“I am a bit hungry too,” the chevalier admitted.
“Did we not have macaroons at one point?” Philippe asked.
“We did. They are in the pockets of your coat,” the chevalier said.
“On the floor somewhere between the corridor and the bed,” the chevalier said. “I am sure of it.”
“That is a great amount of territory to cover,” Philippe said wondering if he could just ignore his hunger. His stomach growled a response.
“This is dire,” the chevalier said. “Could a servant be summoned?”
Philippe considered. “They are in their beds in the servants quarters. No one stays here. We would have to yell very loudly and that may have unintended consequences.”
“Like waking the palace and being caught like this?” the chevalier asked bemused.
“Yes. Like that. One of us must do it. I would but…” He gestured to the fact that the chevalier was preventing him from moving.
“I could focus all my strength on rolling off you and then you could do it,” the chevalier suggested.
“Or I could order you to do it,” Philippe said not very interested in moving.
“You could but I may forget how to do that thing you really like me to do,” the chevalier said.
“That would be tragic,” Philippe agreed. “Is there no solution then? We will have to waste away until morning when the servants wake?”
“It would seem so,” the chevalier said laughing. “I’m really hungry.”
“It would be less effort if we each searched a room,” the chevalier suggested.
“I will search this room,” Philippe volunteered quickly.
“Well played,” the chevalier said drily. “I will need you to unwrap me.”
Philippe sighed. “I quite like you where you are.”
“Where I am is getting us no closer to the macaroons,” the chevalier said with equal disappointment.
Philippe moved his arms and legs freeing the chevalier.
The chevalier focused on moving his limbs and, with great effort, managed to roll off Philippe.
“I do not like this at all,” Philippe said.
“It is this or starvation,” the chevalier said practically as he rolled out of the bed, landing not as gracefully on the floor as he had intended. He offered Philippe a hand.
Philippe took the chevalier’s hand and cooperated in the chevalier’s efforts to pull him out of bed. He looked at the pile of clothes on the floor greatly regretting his earlier decision to try on everything he owned. “The coat could be anywhere.”
“Indeed,” the chevalier said looking glumly at the pile. “I do not remember when or where I took it off you. Good luck, my darling.” He walked into the other room to search.
Philippe sighed and began shuffling through clothes including coats that looked like the coat but contained no macaroons. “What was I wearing…” he muttered to himself. He remembered vividly what the chevalier was wearing, the way the blue complimented his eyes…. Macaroons, he reminded himself.
The chevalier looked around the darkened room with no idea where the coat was. He was fairly certain he had taken the coat off in here. Why don’t macaroons smell? He slammed his knee against a piece of furniture, lost his balance and fell to the floor. “Fuck!”
“Philippe?” Philippe called from the other room.
“I found them,” the chevalier muttered as he rolled off the coat.
“Thank God!” Philippe yelled as he crawled back into bed.
The chevalier grabbed the champagne off the bedside table as he crawled back into bed beside Philippe. “Plate?”
The chevalier dropped the smashed macaroons on Philippe’s chest, picked one up and bit into it.
“What happened to them?” Philippe asked examining the cookie.
“Don’t ask,” the chevalier said.
Philippe shrugged and bit into the macaroon. “You saved the champagne?”
“I did,” the chevalier confirmed and popped the cork. “No glasses.”
“We are already eating smashed macaroons off my chest like barbarians. We are past the Rubicon now,” Philippe said taking a swig from the bottle.
The chevalier laughed and took the bottle from Philippe taking a swig. “The monks are good for something.” He handed the bottle back to Philippe who took another drink spilling some on himself. “We can’t have you sticky,” the chevalier said softly, licking the champagne from Philippe’s chin, neck, chest….
Philippe moaned as the chevalier continued licking. “I don’t think I spilled it…mmm…there,” he said softly, arching to meet the chevalier’s mouth.
The chevalier lay collapsed on Philippe’s chest sure that he was no longer capable of movement, not entirely sure he was capable of speech.
Philippe ran his fingers through the lion’s mane of hair resting on his chest. “Where did you get these scars?” he asked, gently running his fingers over the ugly raised welts that had been hidden beneath the chevalier’s hair
The chevalier flinched and tried to roll over. “Don’t!”
Philippe caught the chevalier and held him so they were laying on their sides facing each other. “Who did this to you?” he asked.
“It does not matter. It’s in the past.”
“You grimaced earlier tonight when I hugged you too tightly. That is not in the past,” Philippe reasoned.
“You would not understand. Your mother allows…this,” the chevalier said gesturing to their naked bodies. “But we are…Catholic,” he said by way of an explanation.
“So are we,” Philippe insisted.
“DEVOUTLY Catholic,” the chevalier clarified. “Do not get my father started on what he believes your family is.”
“Did your father do this?” Philippe asked.
The chevalier sighed. “He has tried very hard to make me…normal,” he said quietly. “He and my mother believe that I will go to hell and take them all with me if they do not fix me.”
Philippe touched the chevalier’s face gently. He was filled with an overwhelming desire to take away this pain, this pain that felt like his pain too. “I will have him banished from court and you will not return home,” he stated. He was not entirely sure why he cared so much but he had never meant anything more.
The chevalier was nearly speechless. He could not allow it, of course, but that Philippe would wish to protect him touched his heart. “You are not who people think you are,” the chevalier said quietly.
Philippe looked confused.
“You do not even see it yourself,” the chevalier said. He gently touched Philippe’s face. “You believe the lie but I see you, my darling. I see the man you truly are.”
Philippe considered this, wove it into questions he only dared to ask himself. “Who am I?”
“You are an extraordinary man who has been convinced to live in the shadows for too long.”
Philippe sifted through the chevalier’s comments. He was raised among sycophants, courtiers, all with their own agenda but the chevalier seemed different. Because you find him madly attractive? “You only say that to win favor.”
“Need I remind you that but for your grandfather’s willingness to switch religions every time the wind changed directions, you and I could easily be in opposite positions? I am a Lorraine-Guise, prince etranger, not some stable boy. I do not need your favor,” the chevalier said haughtily.
Philippe looked surprised to be spoken to in such a direct manner.
“Every rational thought in my head screams what a bad idea this is,” the chevalier said quietly. He touched Philippe’s face gently. “But I saw this face and none of that mattered and now that I know you…henceforth, every day that I do not touch you….” He ran his fingers across Philippe’s lips. “…taste you….” He kissed Philippe gently. “…feel you…” He rolled over onto Philippe and entered him slowly. “…will be a day of death and mourning.”
Philippe kissed the chevalier deeply, his hands on the chevalier’s angelic face. He knew he was already falling in love with this man. Not just lust but something much deeper, something he’d never felt before and he welcomed it.
