Page 64 of The Princess

“No worries. Why do you think we got you soft shoes?” Damon’s eyes sparkled in the fairy lights as he led them around the room in a slow circle.

They’d thought of everything. That he’d found people who were willing to go to this kind of extreme to show him that he was special made him want to cry. But only a little, because tears would ruin his makeup and he didn’t want anything to mar the perfection that was this night.

When the first song ended, Damon swept him closer and slanted their mouths together. The kiss was achingly soft, and though Damon’s tongue flicked at the seam of Taylor’s mouth, he didn’t seek to deepen it. Instead, he pulled away, then Nash was there, making a comment about cutting in.

“I’m not as good as he is,” Nash apologized. “But I didn’t have a legendary Hollywood singer, dancer, actor for a grandfather.”

“Neither did I. You can’t be worse than me.” Taylor stepped closer to Nash. There were more thoughts and feelings in him in that moment than there were stars in the sky. Overwhelming didn’t begin to describe the way he felt underneath it all. But it was the best kind of overwhelmed.

Two of his favorite people had gone to great lengths to do something special for him. It was more than he’d ever thought anyone would do. Especially when he started to express himself the way he wanted to. He’d been afraid that no one would want him. People always said there was someone for everyone, but Taylor had feared that there wouldn’t be anyone for him.

But somehow he’d managed not one, but two. Two glorious men who were willing to do things for him that no one would even dream of. The dress. The tuxedos. The privacy so Taylor could let go and not worry about how other people might be looking at him. Perfection didn’t begin to describe it.

The song ended and Taylor didn’t waste a moment before he pulled Nash into a kiss. This time, the kiss did go deeper because Taylor needed it to. He needed to consume and be consumed. Damon was suddenly behind him, reaching past him to put his hands on Nash’s hips and pull him closer, sandwiching Taylor in the middle.

“You really want me to live here?” Taylor asked Nash. Asked them both. He almost asked them to pinch him, but the insistent, increasingly urgent ache between his legs was proof enough that this wasn’t a dream.

“We do,” Nash said.

“We care about you,” said Damon a moment after.

And then Nash stared into Taylor’s eyes like he was staring into his soul. “I love you. Both of you.”

Damon whispered in Taylor’s ear, “Not to sound like a copycat or anything, but I love you too.”

“Holy shit,” Taylor said, then started to laugh. He cut it off, swallowing it down. He held on tight to Nash because he felt like he might fly off the face of the earth if he let go. “Holy shit,” he said again.

“I think we broke him.” Damon chuckled behind him. Dragging his lips up Taylor’s exposed neck, he stopped to nibble on the shell of his ear.

“I don’t think that’s helping.” Nash took hold of Taylor’s hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the inside of his wrist.

“Oh, I think it’s helping plenty.”

Taylor wanted to tell them how much he loved them both, but the words wouldn’t come out. They stuck in his throat and wouldn’t budge, but neither Nash nor Damon seemed to mind too much about it. When his brain came back online later, he’d tell them yes. He’d tell them he loved them. He’d tell them everything that was locked up inside him, how much they meant to him and how much he wanted forever with them. But for now, he gave himself over to them, turning to liquid in their embrace.

CHAPTER 29

NASH

Damon’s hand was on his hip and as Nash skimmed his lips up Taylor’s throat, he felt the way he pushed into Damon before canting his hips forward, seeking more contact with Nash.

Nash wasn’t a stranger to love in all its forms. But no matter what he’d previously felt or written or imagined, it all paled in comparison to this. His universe felt impossibly bright with these two men by his side. The rest of his life could go to shit, but as long as he had them, it would be okay.

The curve of Taylor’s neck tasted like skin and Nash loved the way Taylor moaned when he flicked his earlobe with his tongue. But Nash wanted a bit more than a steamy make-out session. He pulled back, smiling at the way Taylor whimpered at the loss, and smoothed his hands down Taylor’s sides.

“Let’s see what’s under this dress.”

Taylor went for his zipper, but Damon caught his hand. “He didn’t say take it off.”

Nash caught Damon’s gaze. Elation and lust lived in Damon’s expression. Without words shared between them, Damon had anticipated what Nash wanted. Unable to resist, he stepped in close, brushing a kiss against Taylor’s mouth, quick and dirty with more tongue than lips. It was there and gone again in the space of a breath and Nash reached behind Taylor, grabbing Damon and yanking him close enough for them to share a kiss.

It was imperfect. They were too far away for it to be a deep kiss. To turned on for it to be sweet. It was messy and perfect, and Nash pulled away then went to his knees. The skirt of the dress was poofy, and Nash smiled up at Taylor as he gathered up the material and ducked underneath it, vanishing into the sea of pink.

Taylor looked spectacular no matter what he wore, but there was something about the way he held himself when he wore what he liked best. It was an intoxicating mixture of confidence and vulnerability. Nash leaned in and pressed his face against the black panties. God, they were soft and smooth, inviting for Nash to nuzzle his face against.

Tucked under Taylor’s dress, Nash felt like a secret. He mouthed Taylor’s rigid cock through the panties, hands gliding up the outside of Taylor’s thighs, stilling his movements.

“What’s he got on under this pretty dress?” Damon asked, and whatever he was doing made Taylor flinch and moan. Not to be outdone, Nash freed the head of Taylor’s cock from the confines of the panties and took it into his mouth. Taylor’s whole body jerked and his hand came down to rest on Nash’s head. Even through the layers of fabric and tulle, Nash felt the desperation in the touch. The way Taylor needed contact to anchor himself to Nash. Or maybe he just needed to press Nash’s head down, urging him to take more of his cock.

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