My Prince (11 page)

“Oh,” George said, feeling stupid.

“Don’t let him get started,” Doug said, his voice faintly threatening.

“Should I know that stuff, though?”

Doug sighed. “To be honest, it’s entirely up to you. Do you
need
to know it? No. There isn’t a quiz you have to take before you get handed your gay card. Should you know it? Arguable. I’m in the ‘yes’ camp, personally. It’s very easy to take what we have now for granted. But gay rights, and real rights, I mean, are a very recent invention. If you’d been born even ten years before you were, life would have been drastically different for you.”

“Things are okay now, though, right?”

“Define ‘okay.’”

“Well, you can get married, if you want to.”

“Here we can, yes. People still get beat up for being gay, George. People still get killed for it. Sometimes by their own government. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a flag-waving activist, except at Pride, where it’s a sin not to be. But you have a better appreciation for what you have now if you know a bit about how little we used to have not so very long ago.”

George nodded.

“You ready to move on?”

“Sure.”

T
HEY
SPENT
about ten minutes in the steam room before Doug called time on that too. The experience was more like a trip to an expensive gym or spa than what George had expected—there wasn’t anyone fucking in the hallways, and apart from all the gay men, it felt almost normal. He wasn’t sure whether or not he should be disappointed.

The Jacuzzi was full when they got back out. Dom and Marcus had gone, but Andy was still there, casually snogging some bald guy.

“It’ll start getting busy soon,” Doug said, leading them over to the tiled benches. After all the heat, George was grateful for the cool under his thighs. He had the towel wrapped loosely around his waist once more, his elbows resting on the next step up and his thighs spread wide.

“I can’t believe how many people are here,” George said. “I didn’t know there were this many gay people in Edinburgh.”

Doug grinned at him. “Edinburgh and Glasgow both have pretty big gay scenes. It’s a capital city, love. We gravitate to them.”

“I guess so.”

“So, tell me about you and my Alex.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How did you meet?”

“He didn’t tell you this already?”

Doug made some noncommittal sound, and George guessed Doug was digging to find out if his and Alex’s stories matched.

“Well, we hooked up about six months ago. Just met in a bar and he took me back to a hotel for a fuck.”

“Which hotel?”

“Does that matter?”

“Absolutely.”

“The Scotsman,” George said.

“Hmm. Go on.”

“Are you going to tell me what that means?”

“No. Go on.”

“Okay. Well, we didn’t exchange numbers or anything. Then I ran into him at a work thing a few weeks ago and he asked me out.”

“Have you fucked him again?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s the sex?”

“Really good.”

“Why Alex?”

“What do you mean?” George asked, confused.

“He’s got a whole shit-ton of baggage. Why bother with him? What do you have in common?”

George felt like he was probably being grilled. He took a moment before answering. “Alex is hot,” he started and enjoyed Doug’s annoyed huff. “He
is.
He’s funny and bitchy too. I have a feeling we’re on the same wavelength despite all our differences.”

“Go on.”

“I don’t know him well enough to find out what’s underneath it all, you know? I’m not sure if Alex is the sort of guy who would tell someone all of that up front. He’s pretty guarded, and I am too. But we have a good time together.”

“I like you, George,” Doug said, rolling his head sideways to look at George critically.

“Thanks.”

“When did he tell you? About his family, I mean.”

“I found out myself. Saw them on TV.”

Doug grunted. “Ouch.”

He cocked his head and shrugged. “I didn’t think I’d ever see him again at that point. It was a bit of a shock, for sure, but no big deal.”

“And now?”

“I’m not sure. It seems the more that happens between us, the bigger a deal it’s going to be.”

Doug nodded. “Alex hasn’t ever found anyone who had the balls to deal with his family.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe. Like I said, I like you. He got me to take you out partly to scope you out, to find out what makes you tick. Maybe to find out if you’d act on all the people blatantly cruising you since you’ve been here.”

George frowned and looked at Doug quizzically. “What does that mean?”

“Lord,” Doug laughed. “Watch.”

He pointed at a man walking through the room toward the door. He was tall, in his late thirties, George guessed. He had dark hair and a moustache, neatly groomed. After he’d passed the group in the tub, he looked back over his shoulder, meeting eyes with one of them. The man in the tub waited a moment, then excused himself and followed the dark-haired man out of the room.

“Are they going to have sex?” George asked, maybe a little too loudly.

Doug laughed. “Yes.”

“And people have been doing that to me?”

“Since you walked in, hot stuff.”

“Is this going to get me in trouble? With Alex?”

“No, but it’ll probably get me in trouble.” Doug sighed. “Do you want your dick sucked?”

“Always,” George said easily.

“Me too. And the firecrotch in the tub has been cruising me for at least ten minutes now. Do you mind if I leave you….”

“Yes,” George said. “No fucking way am I letting you go off on your own if all these guys are ‘cruising’ me, and I can’t even tell when they do it.”

Doug sighed. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. Oh well. Come on, then. I need to deliver you back to van Amsberg by seven.”

George frowned. “We don’t have plans tonight.”

“Oh, did I fail to mention that?” Doug said, his voice delicately light and airy. “How forgetful of me.”

George huffed a laugh. “Right.”

They changed quickly, nodded their thanks to Angus, and walked back up to Grassmarket in companionable silence, appreciating the weak sunshine attempting to break through the clouds. George got the impression Doug was going to be a force to be reckoned with. That was okay—he could handle a challenge.

A
LEX
WAS
in the pub George had met Doug in earlier. He had his laptop out and there was a large mug of coffee at his elbow. He seemed deep in concentration. George almost loathed to interrupt him.

Before he had chance to discreetly back away, Alex looked up and grinned when he saw Doug and George standing together.

“Hi,” he said, rising and moving to make room for George. “Did you have fun?”

“It was very educational,” George said drily, making Alex laugh.

“I bet. Doug?”

“Twenty-one,” he said cryptically. “See you later, princess.”

Alex laughed. “Later.”

George watched Doug leave, his hips swinging in his tight designer jeans. “Twenty-one?” he asked when Doug was out of earshot. “What does that mean? Is it like a score?”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I’m sorry. It’s a stupid thing we do in clubs. An out-of-ten scale is too easy for people to interpret, so we work on an out-of-twenty-five.”

“And I scored twenty-one?”

“Yeah. That’s the highest anyone’s got in quite a while, you know. You should be honored.”

“I’m ecstatic,” George deadpanned.

Alex pulled a face and poked him in the side. “He was teasing. He likes you. He already texted me to say so.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Hey, can I take you somewhere?” George asked.

Alex hummed. “Sure.”

“It’s not fancy or anything,” George said, backpedaling, trying to lower expectations.

“I don’t mind,” Alex said with a laugh.

“Okay. It’s not far from here.”

“Okay.”

T
HE
DAY
was milder than they’d had in some time now, no rain, still cold enough to wear a scarf but it likely would be until April. George walked quickly, but that was fine, Alex did too. Their strides seemed to match, and for some reason that made Alex happy.

“How was your afternoon?” Alex asked. He didn’t make any move to take George’s hand. It was still too new, for one, and George wouldn’t let him, for another. Not yet, anyway.

“Good,” George mumbled. “Revelatory.”

Alex barked a laugh. “I’m sure.”

“He took me to a… to a bathhouse.”

“I know.”

“Oh.”

“Doug told me his plans, probably to make sure I didn’t object too strongly before he followed through with them.”

“Did you? Object, I mean.”

“I gave him strict instructions,” Alex said, deciding it was cold after all and pulling his coat more securely around himself. “No sex.”

“Well, yeah,” George said, like that was a foregone conclusion.

“Are we exclusive?” Alex asked. The words came out quickly, apropos of nothing, and he almost immediately regretted them.

George stopped. Then stepped out of the way of some tourist with a camera, closer to the café and away from the road.

“Do you want to be?”

“I don’t know. I’m just wondering.”

“I’m not ready to put a label on it.”

“‘Dating’ works just fine for me.”

“Me too.”

“I’m not dating anyone else,” Alex said. Another bunch of people came up toward them, and Alex put his hand on George’s arm to draw him even closer to the wall. “I don’t have any intention of sleeping with anyone else.”

“Okay,” George said. “Then me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

George gave him a funny sort of smile and resumed his striding off down the road. For the first few steps, Alex had to jog to catch up with him.

“We’re almost halfway home,” Alex joked as they crossed onto South Bridge.

“Yeah. It’s right by the university. You’re hungry, right? I’m taking you for dinner.”

“I could eat,” Alex said lightly.

“Good. I’m starving.”

They crossed the road, and George stopped at a corner restaurant Alex had seen a few times before but never gone into.

“The Mosque Kitchen,” he read. “I’ve heard of this place.”

“It’s so good,” George enthused. “You have to get over any expectations right off the bat, but the food is definitely worth it.”

“Indian food, right?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

George held open the door, and Alex stepped inside. Immediately, he was hit with a wall of delicious smells.

“It’s not curry like you know it,” George continued as he led them up to the counter. “You pick from a handful of different options and they serve it on disposable plates, with disposable knives and forks. It’s cheap as chips, but the food is amazing.”

“It smells amazing,” Alex said.

He read down the menu as they waited in line. The restaurant was set up cafeteria style, with communal tables and the disposable plates and napkins George had described, and bins for people to clean up after themselves.

The options consisted of lamb, chicken, or vegetable curry, with no more details about what went into the dishes than that. There was a whole bunch of sides to go with it too: naan bread, poppadums, saag aloo, bajis, samosas. The most expensive thing on the menu was the lamb curry, which cost six pounds, including rice.

Cheap as chips was right.

“What do you recommend?” Alex asked.

“Honestly? It’s all good. I’ll get a bunch of sides so we can just share.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

After another moment’s deliberation while waiting in the queue, Alex decided on the chicken curry, and he’d share whatever George came up with. The men serving all wore elegantly twisted turbans, and one had a net covering his beard, making him look like a trussed-up Father Christmas. Sort of.

All of the curries were resting in the stainless steel vats that characterized school dinners back when he was at boarding school, bringing on a wave of nostalgia. Alex got that boarding school wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it had worked for him. He wanted anonymity, to be just another face in the crowd, and Harrow gave him that. No one cared who his family were. That only started to matter once he transferred to Eton, for secondary school.

George ordered first, opting for a plain naan rather than one with garlic butter, which Alex appreciated. He paid too, waving away Alex’s offer of splitting it.

“It’s a date,” he said in a low voice, with a shy smile.

They carried the food—and for costing less than twenty pounds in total, it was a
lot
of food—over to a table by the window, where they could watch people going by.

“This place is popular with students,” George said as a big group of them got up from the table behind him.

“I can see that. Because it’s so cheap?”

“I guess so. They used to operate out of the student union, just over on Potter Row. Then they opened this place a few years back.”

Alex nodded and dug his plastic fork into the pile of delicately soft, saffron yellow rice.

It was
incredible
.

“Oh my God,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food.

“Right?”

“This is… really good.”

Alex reached for his Coke and swigged it. The curry was delicately spiced, not too hot, but rich and creamy and delicious. He was fairly adventurous when it came to ordering Indian food at a restaurant, though this was a different experience entirely.

“How did you find this place?” Alex asked.

“Someone from the rugby team brought a bunch of us here, well, when it was at the student union. They do really cheap beer at the union too,” he said with a grin. “So none of us really minded that much. They do takeaway now too.”

“We’re coming back here,” Alex said emphatically, mopping up some of the curry sauce with the edge of his naan bread. “Regularly.”

“I’m so okay with that.”

Even with George’s appetite, they couldn’t quite manage to work their way through all the side dishes, and Alex gave up trying before George did. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach, aware that he was going to have to work
hard
to burn all this off.