Two Gay Kings

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Four Years After, New Year's Eve

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                 "SO SHE GOT DOWN ON KNEE, SURROUNDED BY THE COLOURFUL CHRISTMAS bulb lights, and she said something stupidly romantic like, Would you do me the honour of making me the happiest woman on earth?" 

                 Simon traded a smirk with Alec. He had heard this story a thousand times and each time they retold it, it never failed to make him roll his eyes.

                 Rory nudged Paris. "No, didn't I say something like You're the most beautiful woman in the entire universe?" 

                 "You say that to me every morning," Paris said, although Simon noticed she was still smiling. "Idiot."

                  "Your favourite idiot."

                   "The only idiot I know."

                   "Which, in turn, makes me your favourite one."

                   "It also makes you my least favourite idiot."

                   From next to Simon, Alec clapped his hands together. "Both of you are idiots. How's that?"

                   Simon laughed, a deep rumble in his chest, and leaned over to kiss his husband's mouth. His hand snaked over Alec's waist, pulling him closer, and Alec curled his slender pianist fingers over the back of Simon's neck.

                   Simon didn't miss the way Rory grinned as she asked, "How is it being the kings of Valeria?"

                   Dryly, Simon said, "The exact same as it was the last time you asked."

                   "So, boring?"

                   "No," Simon said. "It's a lot of responsibility, a lot of power, but . . . it makes it worth it. Thanks to my experience as a bodyguard, I've been helping to train the army."

                   "Helping?" Alec scoffed from beside him. "You practically made the army. Our rate of military defence has ranked top five in all the countries now, thanks to him."

                   Simon felt the warmth of a blush trickling into his blood.

                  "And," Alec added with a wicked smirk, "watching him train the army has been absolutely delicious." 

                  "I feel like you use that adjective way too often," Paris said.

                  "I'm telling you, that hot, sweaty male body is a form of art. I'm going to have to get Rory to paint a giant portrait of him for us to hang in the palace."

                  Simon blushed again, and Alec smirked.

                  "How is that going?" Simon interrupted, before Alec could continue talking about Simon's hot sweaty, male body. "Making paintings? Selling art?"

                  Considering Simon had been Rory's bodyguard for over ten years before he became king, he knew her well enough to know that when she said, "Not bad," it was modesty.

                  "Oh, come on," Simon said, turning to Paris. "You have to tell us."

                  Rory glared at him. She knew Paris was her weak spot.

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