Chapter 28. Switzerland
‘I did think, let’s go about this slowly. This is important. This should take some really deep thought. We should take small thoughtful steps.
But, bless us, we didn’t.’ -Mary Oliver
“By the way…” I added, breathlessly, as he kissed my neck, “I’m falling in love with you, too.”
I felt his hand aggressively grip my tight in response as he pulled my hip into him. He released a heavy breath on my neck and paused, leaning back slightly to look at me.
“You are?”
I smiled. “Where’s all that confidence, Your Royal Highness?”
He grinned and leaned forward grabbing my lower lip with his teeth on a gentle nip. I tightened the hold of my legs around his.
He kissed me again, this time his hands slid up to my jaw, steadying my face in place so his mouth could frame mine strongly, his tongue and mine dancing together as our hips moved as one trying to get impossibly closer.
He nibbled my lower lip again, breaking the kiss; I moaned a complaint, feeling his lips grin against my neck. His hands hovered hungrily around my back, then slid down to pull down the fabric on my waist. He leaned back, looking at my body.
"I don't know how to get you out of this thing." He complained, making me chuckle.
I pushed him back so I could jump down from the table. I gave my back to him, moving my hair to the front, pointing to the flap of fabric on my back hiding a zipper. He undid it quickly, pulling my jumpsuit down to my feet in one swift, fast move. He stayed crouched down as he did, his hands held onto my legs and he slid them up slowly, making my entire body shiver.
When they reached my hips, I felt his mouth on my ass, biting it gently as his hands slid to my crotch as he stood up again, his lips grazing my back slowly as he did. One of his hands made their way up across my stomach, touching my belly button up until the area under my breasts, as the other slid further down between my legs, over my underwear.
Breathless, I pressed my hips back into him just as his hand grabbed a firm hold over my breast; I let my head fall back on his shoulder, bringing one arm up to grab a fistful of his hair. While his other hand rubbed strongly against my cunt, over my underwear, his lips traced down my neck. The feeling of his stubble against my skin, his hands over my body in the exact way I had fantasized about so many times, it made my legs tremble, my breath weaken, my clit pulsate in anticipation.
"Fuck..." I moaned out, weakly.
"Language, Mary." He whispered, his lips on my ear.
"Fuck you." I replied, smiling, tugging on his hair.
In one fast move, his hands left my body to untie my bra; he gently spun me around to face him, now almost completely naked.
Self-conscious, I pulled him closer again, but he held my arms in place. Stepping back, he looked at me, an appreciative, seductive grin in his lips as his eyes hovered down my chest, my stomach, my hips, my legs...
"What?!" I asked, impatiently, feeling my cheeks blush as I rubbed my thighs together; every inch of my body already missing his hands.
"I just want to look at you." He said, hands running down his hair.
"This is embarrassing." I complained, shyly, crossing my arms over my chest.
He chuckled, biting his lower lip. He took a step closer, and pulled my arms down, still watching every piece of my skin.
"Why?"
"Because!" I laughed, nervously. "I'm naked! And you're watching me."
"I'm not watching you." He corrected, his hands lightly grazing my body as they found their way to my breasts. "I'm worshiping you..." His eyes found mine, serious, just as his fingers gently pinched my nipples. "The way you deserve."
His hands held onto my chest, firmly, and his thumbs started rubbing circles around my nipples, just as his mouth found mine again. He started slowly, gently, but it was exactly enough to send waves of inciting pleasure down my body. I pushed my body against his, and his leg flexed between mine. I mounted one leg over his hip, feeling his thigh under my cunt.
"This isn't fair." I complained, my arms around his neck, still covered by his shirt. It was unbuttoned, so just as he leaned back I pulled it down, and he shrugged it off to the floor.
I grabbed a hold of his muscly shoulders, sliding my hands down slowly down his torso. I leaned closer, laying a gentle kiss over his skin, covering his chest with kisses until I reached his neck. His hand grabbed a firm hold onto my hair, the other traveled lightly down my body to squeeze my hips closer to his. His hands were too big on me, nearly covering the whole of my back.
I kissed his neck allowing my hands to get to know his body; I had spent so long wondering what he would feel like under my palms, it felt exhilarating to be able to freely touch him, so I did. I touched every inch of his chest, his stomach, the curve of his hips, until my hands found his belt, which I unceremoniously undid.
"Curious?" He asked, his voice still as teasing, but now strained, lower.
I answered by letting his pants fall to the floor, reaching down to allow my hand to hover over his bulge. He bit my neck in response, a little stronger, a puff of heavy breath down my skin. I moved my hand down, gulping at the touch of him, thick, strong, hard, on my hand. He kissed my clavicle, panting. I moved my hand up, firmly; I felt him getting harder as I did, but just as I was moving my hand more firmly around him, his hands gripped my thighs again and pulled me up to the table, making me lose my reach.
His hands slid down my legs to my knees, pulling them apart slowly, around his waist, dragging me closer as he pressed his hips against mine. He reached behind me and pushed whatever was on the table to the floor, leaning down to lay me against it, his mouth trailing kisses down my neck, my clavicle, and my breasts, kissing one while one of his hands gripped the other. I squeezed my legs tighter around him, enjoying the feeling of his hardened dick against me.
His hands grabbed hold of my hips, strongly pushing them down in place.
"So impatient..." He teased.
"Shut up." I complained, weakly, trying to sit up to kiss him, but before I could his hands held onto my neck, pulling my mouth onto his, lowering me down to the table again.
I felt one of his arms slide down my body, over my stomach, reaching down below my navel and over my lace panties to hover my labia; his hand was so big it covered my whole pussy as he pressed more firmly against it.
"Is this okay?" He asked, whispery, looking up from my breasts.
I smiled in response and he pressed his middle finger down, starting to move up and down slowly, making strained moans leave me against my will.
"Good?" He asked, now sounding definitely teasing. I pulled him more firmly against me with my legs in response.
"God--" I let out, breathless, as his finger found my clit. "There--" I begged.
My back arching, my legs trembling, he reached his other hand over to hold onto my neck, lightly holding it over my throat. He moved my underwear out of the way and fingered me down, feeling just how wet I'd become.
I saw the grin taking over his lips, and pulled him up for a kiss before he could tease me about it, biting his lips mercilessly the more his fingers moved in me. I came with a spasm of pleasure with his mouth to my neck, sweating weakly.
He kissed me again, slowly. His hand between my legs continued to run all over my cunt, now delicately, as if just enjoying the feeling of it.
He leaned back, pulling my lower lip between his. "Can I taste you?"
I nodded, kissing him again, deeper now. I barely knew what he asked; I would have said yes to anything.
He reached down, pulling my panties off. He spread my legs wider, and traced down my body with his lips until they were over my labia; he kissed me slowly, from below to the top, letting his tongue get to know every nook and cranny. When he found my clit again, a moan escaped before I could stop it, it was the only sign he needed. He kept his mouth over it, his tongue circling it, first with kitty licks, then strongly while his finger reached down from below to enter me again, sliding in easily, familiar. He fastened the rhythm and waited until I was moaning breathlessly again before adding one more finger while his tongue continued to add pressure to my center, circling, sucking, until I was thrusting myself into him.
When I looked down, desperately, his eyes found mine, hungry, but I didn't feel the need to look away. I felt an overwhelming wave wash over me, taking over control of my every movement while I came with a strained, high pitched moan; his face between my shaky, weakened legs.
Panting, I fell back down on the table, eyes closed as I breathed quickly, wishing time would stop. He gave my navel one final kiss before making his way up my body. He laid his head between my breasts as his hands found mine, intertwining our fingers.
When I felt I might not fall back down again, I sat us both up slowly. I felt myself dripping over his table, and his hard cock between my legs, but his eyes were all I saw while he rested his forehead on mine.
We remained like this for longer than felt appropriate, just nuzzling our noses together as our breaths evened out together.
“Truth or dare?” He asked, eventually.
I smiled; “If I say truth, will you ask me to rate your performance?”
He chuckled, his cheeks reddening slightly. “No.”
“Okay. Truth.”
He let out a deep breath. “Did you mean it?”
For a moment I thought he was asking if I was faking it, but his expression was too serious.
“When you said you were falling in love with me.” He explained, whispery, probably finding the confusion on my face. “You know you don’t have to say it just because I did?”
I smiled, and leaned over to lay a quick kiss over his lips.
“I meant it.”
‘Falling in love’ already felt like the wrong way to put it; there was no falling to it. I was there, I fell. But it felt like too much to say it then.
He smiled, nodded, and gulped. His smile disappeared.
“What are we going to do?” He asked, softly, worried.
I heaved a sigh, and looked at the clock over his kitchen window, doing the math in my head.
“I have… two hours before I need to leave for the train station for the last train to Savoy.” I told him. “So, I guess we have two hours to figure that out.”
I traced the spiderman band aid on his cheek lightly; his arms wrapped around my waist, and he pulled my off the table, mounting me to his lap.
“Okay.” He said. “We can do a lot in two hours.”
Smiling, he walked us upstairs to his room. We could maybe fit a whole universe in two hours.
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I had never been touched like this: sexually, yet in a non-sexual way. Harry had his hand over my breast, caressing it lightly, innocently, but purposefully, analyzing every inch as if trying to commit it to memory.
“Does this feel good?” He asked, causally, if slightly concerned.
“Yes.” I said, smiling, eyes closed, nearly falling asleep.
He leaned closer and raised himself on his elbow to lay a quick kiss on the side of my breast. He left another over my tattoo, on my shoulder, and then nuzzled my hair with his nose as he settled back down on the pillow.
I had a little less than one hour before I had to get up and get dressed, but I didn’t want to move. My legs still felt too dangerously numb, and the feeling of his embrace behind me under the covers felt so perfect the smallest movement felt like it might destroy it.
“Truth or dare?” He asked, whispery, tracing my neck with his lips.
I smiled. “Truth.” I said, just because the idea of having to move for a dare was too much.
He raised himself on his arm again, resting his chin on his hand to look at me. “…Did–did you ever think about me?”
I looked back at him, amused. “Of course. It’s kind of what you do when falling for someone.”
“What I mean is,” he corrected himself, with an eyeroll, “did you ever think about fucking me?”
To this, I bit my lower lip and stared back at the wall. Harry leaned down, kissing my arm.
“Did you ever, you know… at night… think about what it would be like?”
His hand squeezed my breast a little tighter.
“Yes.” I confessed.
He leaned closer to whisper in my ear.
“Really?” He asked, gently biting my earlobe. “What did you think about?”
I turned to him, grinning.
“No follow up questions, Your Royal Highness.”
He smiled, sighing.
“Truth or dare?” I asked.
“Why do I feel like you just want to get back at me for this question?”
“Pick truth and find out.” I shrugged.
“Truth.”
“…did you?” I asked, simply.
He gave me a long look, still smiling, and then leaned down to touch my lips with his.
“Almost every day.” He said. “When you stayed here, every night I wanted nothing more than to just turn you around and kiss you.”
I smiled. “You were very restrained.”
“Thank you.” He said, seriously, sounding touched, making me laugh.
“You only told me to dump my boyfriend once.”
He grinned. “And I didn’t even call him a fucker like I wanted to.”
I giggled; he leaned down again, capturing my mouth with his.
“I thought about this a lot.” I confessed, just because. Touching my nose to his, I folded one leg up to rest between both of his. “I couldn’t help it. But it always made me sad.”
He touched my forehead with his lips, and stayed there.
“I don’t want this to be it.” He said, still to my forehead.
“Me neither.” I whispered.
“…how much do your parents hate me? Just, you know, ballpark?”
“They–they don’t hate you exactly.” I said, unsure. “They just hate everything you represent.”
“Well, that’s much better.” He teased, making me smile.
I leaned back, looking up at him.
“It’s not about you personally.”
“I did yell at your mother and went against them all when I let you stay here.”
I sighed. “Yeah, that–that was good at the time, but unproductive now.”
He stretched his arm back under his head and looked up at the ceiling.
“What do we do?” He asked, pensive.
I took in a deep breath and pushed myself upwards, kicking off the covers as I got up.
“Hey!” He protested. “Come back, I only have you for another hour.”
“I think better on my feet.” I explained.
I opened his wardrobe and opened a drawer.
“Can I borrow a shirt?”
“Okay, first you get out of bed, now you want to get dressed? What have I done?” He complained; I smiled, picked the first, simple, cotton shirt I could find, and put it on.
“Nevermind, you still look hot.” He sighed, almost sounding disappointed.
“Focus!” I demanded. “Let’s think. What can we do?”
He sighed, and sat up against the headboard.
“Well. What do you want to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it, what is the problem here? Why can’t we just date?”
“Well, I’m the first in line for the throne of Savoy.” I started. “You’re the fourth in line for the throne of the United Kingdom.”
“And why is that a problem?” He asked, didactic.
“Because the press needs profit, and they achieve it by writing stories about us, real or not, and one of their favorite topics to speculate about is who we will marry one day, so as soon as they know we are together, they’re going to start running every possibility about our future–”
“Exactly.” He interrupted. “The whole problem about us being together is what it could mean for the future.”
“…okay?” I nodded. “So, maybe we should talk about the–future?”
I winced; our relationship was 50 minutes old and we were talking about the future? We were doomed.
“No, wait–that’s not–I don’t mean–”
“No, I–I get it.”
“So…?”
He sighed, and sat up, running both hands up his face and through his hair.
“This is hard.”
“Just–” I started. “What if we just… focused on the present?”
He considered this. “What do you mean?”
I perked up, “Well, what if we just refuse to let this affect us? We just… we pretend we’re normal people. Normal people who just started dating and who don’t need to talk about the future yet, because it’s too soon.”
He nodded. “That sounds good… except–”
“Yes?”
“We’re not the problem.” He argued. “We can do that, sure. I’m sure we can. But, what about the press? Nobody controls them. Also, and I feel like that’s an even worse problem, what about our families? They would never buy into ‘we are focusing on the now’.”
“There’s a simple solution for that… We don’t tell them.” I shrugged. “We don’t have to. We know how they feel. Why should we invite them into our…?” I struggled against the word ‘relationship’. “Stuff?”
“Because they control our lives?”
“Good point.” I sighed.
“Also, how could we keep this from them? My neighbours are all family members and employees of my grandmother. And you literally live with your parents.”
“Yes, but!” I said, excited, kneeling onto the bed. “We live in different countries! So, we’ll only be able to see each other every other weekend, anyway, if we can get our security to keep their mouths shut, we can meet in secret.”
Silent, he thought about this as his eyes hovered around the room. I waited, tense. It felt like asking too much. I knew I was the problem, my situation was the problem. Had we started dating before Louis died, people would complain, yes, but they wouldn’t have nearly as much to say about it.
“If only we lived a century or half ago.” He said. “Then this would just be considered a ‘good match’.”
I grinned. “I know… It’s bizarre.”
When monarchies had transitioned from being only a symbol, to being a working force for the country, they had realized the need for members to help. After all, with modernization, social media and the 24 hours news cycle, there’s only so much one monarch can do. They eventually need family members to help. So, today, ‘spares’ were no longer seen as trading chips to other kingdoms. They were more needed at home, for support.
If Louis was alive, and I was still a spare myself, we would still have had a few hills to climb, but the idea of our future wouldn’t be a huge unknown: I would move to England, take Harry’s title, and sometimes visit my family. We might even be able to work for both countries.
But now, considering we even made it that far, if Harry and I were to marry, he would have to move to Savoy, which would be extremely frowned upon by his family, not only because they would be losing a valuable member of their workforce, but because they already had a history with a family member walking out for love before (Edward VIII, who then became Duke of Windsor). Not only that, the woman he walked out for was also a foreigner. The ripple effect it caused in British history was so big it was still a sensitive subject.
Crucially, the marriage laws for British royalty dictated Harry would lose his titles and place in the line of succession should he marry a catholic. Which I was.
“I forgot about that.” I groaned when Harry reminded me.
“They want to change that law, but even if they do, if we were to get married, wouldn’t the Savoy government expect me to abdicate my position in the British line of succession?”
“I…” I stuttered. “I don’t know.” I did know. And the answer was yes, probably. But the idea would be so utterly destructive for his family I couldn’t bear to say it aloud.
“My grandfather had to, when he married my grandmother.”
“Those were different times.” I argued.
“We both know if there’s one place time doesn’t pass that fast is inside a monarchy.” He smiled, sadly.
In my family, the problem would be Savoy’s historic animosity towards England, Harry not being catholic, his polemic party past, and, of course, the risk that our future children would link us forever to Britain, meaning should some people die, it was likely that in a few years the only descendant to the Savoy throne was a British monarch.
Revolutions had started for less.
I sighed. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”
He looked at me, but averted his eyes soon after.
“…It is.”
I turned around, and sat facing the window, giving my back to him, pulling my legs up to my chest.
“Maybe we should cut our losses, then.”
He didn’t say anything. I bit my lower lip and tightened my arms around my knees, to try and stop myself from saying anything else.
I knew what he must be feeling, I knew because I used to be a spare. I knew how hard it was to be in that constant limbo of not being important enough, but not being normal, either. And if I knew dating someone would make my life even more of a public debate, I would run away screaming in the other direction.
He was falling for me, sure. But he wasn’t stupid. If we started a relationship and things went south, he would be the one to draw the short straw. Not only was he not an heir, he had a past that people would point to when trying to find the guilty party of our doom. My people would have my back in the press and pull out all the stops in order to try and save my reputation and image. His might not do the same.
“Is that what you want to do?” he asked, calmly.
I didn’t just feel guilty; I felt very mindful of the fact that on top of everything else, the fact that I outranked him was also a problem. Theoretically, he should follow my orders because my word was worth more than his; or at least, it’s how it would be for people who cared about that stuff. I didn’t think he did, but still, it felt wrong to tell him something that could affect his own choices.
To put it simply: I didn’t want to influence him into getting into something that might hurt him in the long run.
“I want…” I started, “I just want you to be happy.”
I heard him sigh, heavily, and get out of bed. I looked back to see him putting on his boxer briefs.
He scratched the back of his head with a hand, the other on his hips, and looked at me.
“I will be happy, whatever we decide. But right now I want to know what you want.”
“Well, what you want matters, too.”
“I didn’t say it didn’t, but I–”
“I asked first.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does–”
“This is not truth or dare!” He said, loudly, exasperated, making me flinch.
I avoided his eyes, self-conscious.
“I’m sorry.” He sighed, calmer.
He walked over to me, and sat by my side in bed, facing the window.
“Why can’t you just tell me what you want?” He asked, strained. “You won’t upset me. I get it, so much has happened in so little time for you.” He gulped, winping his palms on the sheets. “I don’t mean to… pressure you into anything. I understand if a serious relationship would be too much right now, we can take it slow if you want, keep it casual, you know? I don’t... I don’t need to be your boyfriend or anything.”
I shook my head, confused.
“I don’t–that’s not–You don’t have to worry about that.”
“But I do.” He insisted. “I don’t want to be one more thing you have to stress over.”
I sighed, heart aching in affection for him. I lowered my legs, and turned to the side to face him.
“Harry…” I started, smiling, “Okay. If this will work, I think we need to always be honest and open with each other… So, in honor of that…” I took in a deep breath, bracing myself. “I want you to be my boyfriend.” I immediately felt a little juvenile for it, especially as he took a while to respond. Then he looked at me, surprised. “Really?” I smiled, embarrassed. “Yes!”
He smiled to the floor, blushing, and threw an arm around me to pull me closer into a tight hug, before laying back down in the bed, pulling me with him. He turned to the side to face me, touching his nose to mine, still smiling.
“You’re blushing.” I teased, whispery.
“Shut up.” I laughed. “So, you’re my girlfriend now...” He added, in a teasing voice.
I sighed, happily. “I am.”
“So stupid... What are we, in elementary school?”
“Oh, okay, if you don’t want to--” I said, getting up, but he held me down. I laughed, letting him.
“And… all the other stuff? We never got to a solution.”
I gulped, realizing he was right. I got so caught up on my own fears that I forgot to think of a solution for the actual problem, which was, of course, that it didn’t matter if we could have an actual, serious relationship, where we were responsible and considerate of the issues we faced, but just… ignored them.
“What if we just try to focus on the present?” I asked, tentative. “A serious, real relationship, but… We let them worry about it if they want. We live each day at a time. Nothing else.”
“And you think they’ll let us?” He asked. “I don’t know how your family works, but mine will need to know what I plan to do about all of those issues.”
“Then we insist. We tell them, listen, we’re Switzerland.”
“Switzerland?” He asked, amused.
“Swiss neutrality,” I started, “is one of the main principles of Switzerland's foreign policy.”
“Tell me more, counselor.” He teased.
I turned to lay on my back to better look at him, going through my brain for all the info I remembered from my political science classes so I could better defend my metaphor.
“Their policy states that Switzerland is not to be involved in armed or political conflicts between other states, but they have armed neutrality! Which means it is self-imposed, permanent, and armed.”
“Armed? I thought you said they were neutral.” He asked, sounding almost bored.
I got on my knees, but leaned down to him. “Armed neutrality means they have no alliance with either side in a war, but will defend themselves if necessary.” I smiled, throwing one leg up to straddle him. His hands slid up my thighs. “I think that should be our official policy.”
“Oh, yeah?” He asked, grinning. He thrust his hips slightly higher, adjusting himself under me. By coincidence or design, his dick was now perfectly aligned under me.
“Did you even pay attention to what I said?”
He sat up, pulling me closer by the back of my knees. I rested my hands on his shoulders.
“Yes. I like the part about defending ourselves.” He kissed the tip of my nose, lightly. “So we stay neutral to everyone else, and whatever they have to say about us, but defend ourselves if necessary.”
“And it will be.” I reminded.
“I’m in if you are.” He said. “You’re the heir. You’re the one who’ll be expected to pick a side.”
“And you’re the man.” I shrugged. “Your family will never be okay with the idea of you giving up power for a lowly woman.”
He laughed, “Well, they’ll have to learn not to underestimate you.”
I grinned, biting my lower lip. His arms wrapped around me.
“Even if we can stay neutral, our families won’t. The press won’t. They’ll pull us in different directions with all they’ve got.”
I nodded, slowly. I held my hands to his jaw, still filled with affection at the bandaid I had put in his cheek only that night.
“So we don’t tell them.”
His brows shot up in surprise. “Are you suggesting we keep our relationship a secret? Mary, do you have an invisibility cape? How come you never told me?”
“Ha-ha.”
“Seriously, there’s no way to keep something like this a secret. We take security everywhere we go. You live with your parents. Half of my family are my neighbors.”
“Okay, so, we have some kinks to figure out.” I shrugged. “But we live in different countries, so we can meet in the middle, somewhere they won’t suspect. We just need to make sure we’ve got our security on our side…” I smiled, and leaned closer to kiss him.
He allowed me to part his lips and deepen the kiss, slow, agonizingly and frustratingly slow. He groaned, his hands finding my backside, and pulled into him. Then I pulled on his lower lip, breaking the kiss.
“Truth or dare?” He grinned, eyes still closed. “Truth.” “Wrong, pick again.” He laughed. “Dare?” “…I dare you to be my secret boyfriend, Your Royal Highness.” Still smiling, he leaned in again and kissed me. “Done.”
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[A/N: :)))))))))))))))) ]