Mark's eyes flutter open and he raises his arms upwards, stretching in bed. He was just about to drift back off to sleep but realized that he was not at home and popped his eyes back open. He's naked from head to toe with only a pair of boxers on, which he recalled that he'd worn the previous night.
Shit! I didn't . . . did I?
He throws the silk sheets off of him and frantically searches the bed. He's both glad yet confused to see no one else sleeping on the mattress with him. If he had a one night stand, then where is the girl?
His eyes go wide as the events from the bar flood back to him—drinking his pain away, venting to the bartender, bumping into a horny stranger. He remembers the man flirting with him nonstop, wanting to take him home with him. He remembers getting into the car and drunkenly making out with him until they reach his place. Then the stranger carrying him up to his bedroom, his dark eyes clouded by hunger and lust. That was the last thing he could recall from last night. Everything else was a mystery.
Mark scans the room and is relieved to see his shirt and jeans lying nearby on the floor. He swings his legs over the bed and grabs his clothes before quickly throwing them on. He then stands up and makes his way towards what he thought was the bedroom door in search for the man from last night. But just as he was about to reach the exit, he trips over something on the floor and crashes down onto the ground beneath him. Groaning, he lifts himself up into a sitting position and spots his shoes lying next to him.
Oh. So that's what nearly killed me. Death by shoe.
Behind him, the door opens and Mark quickly spins himself around. He looks up with a frightened look on his face at the naked man towering above him with only a towel wrapped around his waist. His dark hair is soaking wet, dripping drops of water onto his body's perfect curves. He has a toothbrush in his mouth, though he isn't seen to be brushing his teeth at the moment. Right now, he just lets it hang out of his mouth as a smirk forms on his face.
"You know," he begins, the toothbrush bouncing as he spoke. "It's impolite to stare." The man winks at Mark, leaning on the doorframe and the smaller male's eyes widen as he finally understood who he was talking to. He sheiks and covers his mouth, earning him a confused look.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
"Y-you're the Prince of England," he stutters and the other simply laughs before gifting him a goofy smile with his teeth still covered in toothpaste.
"Prince Richard Hayden Calliwell II, and you are?" he asks but speaks up again before he could receive an answer. "And I'm not the prince. I have brothers, you know. This country has three princes."
The other quickly nods before responding, showing that he understood. "My name is Mark, your Highness." He holds a hand up towards Richard for him to shake but instead, the prince grabs his hand and pulls him up off of the floor, groaning.
YOU ARE READING
Two Kings
Fanfiction❛ I'm ( not ) gay , your highness ! ❜ Legend has it, Mark Fischbach never wanted to fall for Prince Richard. It turns out, he wasn't the perfect man the media described him to be. So when the commoner stepped into his w...