Last of the Scots

Last of the Scots _The Nifty archive has been a source of enjoyment for me for a long time and I hope you are also enjoying it. If you are, take a minute and drop a donation to keep the site up and running, won’t you? It’s easy and you can donate only what you can afford. Here’s the link: Donate
This story dates back some years. It’s at least 10 years old. But I find it stands up well despite its age. It’s more romantic than some of my work. I like to think of it as one of those cheesy romance novels one often sees on paperback racks. I hope you enjoy it.
Brad Bates, 12/18/2018
_
Peter MacDermot shifted uncomfortably in the throne. Damn, but the stone was hard! He sighed, bored and out of sorts. Official functions annoyed him, but he knew they were necessary. The wool of his kilt itched and he longed to scratch, but could not with so many of his subjects and courtesans looking on.
Below him, on the floor of his great hall, the Captain of the Guard strutted back and forth, listing the crimes of the next subject to be brought before His Lordship. With an effort, Peter forced himself to concentrate on what the jackass was saying.
“...and did conspire to undermine the rule of His Lordship, Peter MacDermot, Sovereign of the High Country, Prince of the Royal House, Heir to ...”
Peter could stand no more. “I know my lineage!” he barked. “In what way did the accused ‘conspire’?”
The Captain paused uncomfortably, rifling through his notes. “Umm, well, he, uh...Ah, here it is...’The accused did knowingly publish untruths and outright lies about His Highness.’ In short, he stands accused of libel and treason.”
“I see. Bring the man forward.” Peter wanted to get this over with, it was late and he was hungry.
A Guardsman hauled forth a solid-looking man, blond and shaggy, his hair golden in the torchlight. A wood beam reached across his shoulders, and his wrists were bound to it. He was powerless and grimy, yet his blue eyes flashed angrily and he held his head high, unembarrassed to be seen in such circumstances.
The man spat on the floor before His Lordship. “‘Tis no treason to love your homeland! You are a usurper, you took your throne by force, and you don’t belong in this hall, judging the good people of this village!”
“Really?” said His Lordship, stroking his chin. He looked the man up and down. Privately, he thought, Quite handsome. Full of fire. I wonder what’s under his kilt?. Aloud, he said, “And you could do better, I suppose?”
The prisoner wasted no time answering. “Better? Perhaps, perhaps not. I do know one thing – I’d not be sending my lackeys out to rough up a man for what he wrote !”
The hall was silent as the Prince considered this. The Captain coughed nervously, shifting from one foot to the other. At length, Peter said, “This is your punishment: For a period of six months you will accompany me, night and day. You will listen with me as I receive news and the advice of my counselors. You will debate with me any issue upon which you do not agree with my judgment. If, after this six month period, you decide that you still take exception with my leadership, I will step down and you may have my title.
“This is my decree.”
A ripple of nervous whispers swept through the room. This was unheard of! His Lordship was actually talking about giving up his throne!
Peter turned to his Houseman, Raul, a swarthy Spaniard. “Raul, prepare a suite for...I’ve not caught your name?”
“Kevin. My name is Kevin, son of Robert,” said the prisoner quietly.
“Prepare a suite for Kevin near the Royal Chambers,” the Prince continued. “See to his comfort. Accord him all household privileges. Unless I say otherwise, he is to have his run of the castle and will be treated as if he were a member of my family.”
“Right away, Sire!” snapped Raul. He turned on his heel crisply and disappeared behind a tapestry.
By now, the uproar in the hall was deafening. People were stunned, and consulted with their neighbors to be sure that they had heard correctly. Mentally, Peter was pleased with the stir. He liked shaking things up, doing things in untraditional ways. Outwardly, he continued to play the part of annoyed monarch. He turned to the Captain and gave him his most withering look.
“Captain, you disappoint me. I gave no order to have this man arrested, you acted without my knowledge. In the future, you will discuss all potential treason cases with me before making any arrests. If you do not, you will not only lose your station and rank, but you shall be stripped of your property and removed from the castle. Do I make myself clear?”
The Captain held the Prince’s gaze for only a moment, then dropped his eyes to the floor. “Aye,” was all he said.
With that, His Lordship rose from his throne. All present in the great hall knelt instantly. “This audience is ended. I am tired and wish to have my supper and retire.” He looked again at the Captain. “Well, man, what are you waiting for? Release the prisoner! You have a member of my household bound like a common thief!”
Peter snickered to himself as he exited. The last he saw of the Captain, he was nervously untying the man with the shaggy blond hair.

Peter instructed Raul to ask Kevin to join him for a private supper in his chambers after he was washed and dressed. When the young man arrived, he was still leery, edging into the Prince’s Royal Chambers nervously. He stood a good distance from Peter, near the door.
Peter sighed and waved the stranger to the seat opposite him. “Do sit down, lad! Your supper is growing cold, and Ephram’s cooking is too good to waste.”
Cautiously, Kevin stepped to the table and sat. He looked down at the finely set table, then up at the Prince. “Your Highness...”
“‘Your Highness’ is it? But a short time ago it was ‘Usurper!’” Peter laughed merrily, his eyes dancing.
“Forgive me, please, Your Highness. ‘Tis possible I spoke angrily, but you’ve showed me true kindness. It would seem your reputation is greatly inaccurate.” Kevin looked down at the table again. “I apologize if I acted rudely. I just thought...”
“You thought that I approved of the Captain’s actions? No, I don’t. He’s been a problem, but the men respect him and I suspect they will follow no one else. In the next six months, I expect you will realize that being a Prince is not all you may have heard.” Peter smiled. He said, “Now, do try the broth, you’ll find it quite good. Tell me what you’ve heard of me, and about yourself. Then,” the Prince smiled again, “We’ll try to reconcile all the stories with reality.”
Despite himself, Kevin grinned. He sipped at the thick Scotch broth. His eyebrows shot up, and his grin became a beaming smile. “You’re right, you know! This is excellent!” They both devoured the delicious soup, and when they each were near the end of the bowl, Kevin felt more at ease and began speaking.
“There is actually precious little information about you available other than your lineage. A descendent of Robert the Bruce, but the exact relationship is unclear. Due to the lack of information, rumors abound.”
“I believe I’ve heard the phrase, ‘The Bachelor Prince’.”
Kevin winced. He had heard the nickname, of course, but was hesitant to mention it. “Aye, that is one of the nicer things I’ve heard.”
Peter looked at the young man slyly over his tankard of ale. “And of what you’ve heard, what do you believe?”
Humor flashed in Kevin’s eyes. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you, Your Highness?”
“No time for it,” Peter replied crisply. “Only so many hours in a day. Sometimes tact is required to get along in the world. Other times it is merely a waste of time. One of the perquisites of royalty is that we can be tactless, when necessary.”
“I don’t know what to believe, truthfully.”
“Well, you are here for six months. In that time, I expect you will learn all my secrets, so let us cut to the heart of the matter. Do you know why you are here?”
Without thinking, Kevin said, “Suspected treason or some such rot.”
The Prince chuckled loudly. “Not at all! You are here because you intrigue me!”
“I see...” said Kevin, though it was plain that he did not.

Raul swept into the room then, taking away their soup dishes and replacing them with a fine supper of lamb and seasoned potatoes. He filled their tankards quietly and left them alone to finish their meal.
As though he were changing subjects, the Prince asked, “And this ‘Bachelor Prince’ nickname, what do you make of that?”
The stranger hardly knew what to say. How does one tell his liege that he is rumored to be a bit ‘queer?’ That the townspeople prattle on about all sorts of strange, perverse ‘doings’ in the castle? How does one say that?
Peter noticed his guest’s hesitation. “Come, come, tell me what you’ve heard!”
“Well,” Kevin began, then stopped. Peter watched his face, saw him come to a decision. Kevin forged ahead. “It’s said that you prefer the company and attentions of men over women. Is this true?”
“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Yes, it is true. Another ‘perk’ of royalty is the indulgences you are permitted, assuming you are still able to be a good ruler. Your rantings in that rag of yours notwithstanding, I believe I am a good ruler. So I surround myself with people of my own choosing, handsome, capable men who share my tastes. Occasionally, we enjoy each other’s company.”
Kevin thought he was beginning to see where this was going. “Am I, also, expected to ‘enjoy your company?’”
Peter grinned broadly. “I hope so, but it is not a requirement. You are here in the capacity of interested observer and devil’s advocate for six months. How you choose to conduct your personal life is your own affair. Though I admit, “ the Prince grinned again, “it may be difficult to have much of a personal life if you are to accompany me night and day.”
Kevin ate in silence for several moments. Peter, seeing his guest in deep thought, chose to do likewise. At length, Kevin pushed his plate back, took a long swallow of ale, and cleared his throat.
“I confess, I didn’t expect this to be true. I thought it merely idle chatter. I’ve done a bit of fooling around with other boys when I was young, but nothing serious.” He looked up at His Lordship with fire in his eyes. “I would try something before I condemn it.”
That was all it took. Peter was standing next to him before he could say more. He ran his hand through the young man’s golden locks, then rested his hand in the small of Kevin’s back. He slipped the other down the front of his tunic, gently massaging the man’s chest.
Kevin’s breath caught in his throat. The Prince’s hand was warm, strong, and passionate. It kneaded his pectorals, then his nipples, and a moan escaped his lips. Confused thoughts whirled through his head, repressed desires exploded from his subconscious like gunpowder. He writhed under the Prince’s touch, too entranced to object. Peter’s hand caressed his chest hair, sparse and blond, pinched his tits, slid down to his strong abdomen. He turned his face up to the Prince, his eyes unfocused.
“I...”
“Don’t speak words. Let our bodies talk to one another,” said Peter in a hushed voice. With that, he brought his lips to Kevin’s. The kiss was electric, setting both men on edge, stoking the fire that burned in both of them. Shaking, Kevin stood and came into the Prince’s arms, giving himself fully to the passion that raged inside him. As they kissed, lips and tongues moving silently, Peter moved his hands to the back of Kevin’s thighs. Inch by inch, they slid up his legs, past the edge of his kilt, until Peter held an asscheek in each hand.
Kevin’s knees went weak. Both men’s cocks were fully hard now, throbbing shanks of flesh made stone. Peter enjoyed the feel of the man’s ass, rubbing his palms over the cheeks and in and out of the crack. He pried the globes apart, digging his fingers into the crevice, seeking out the blond’s hole. When he found it, Kevin sagged, moaning, and began humping against the Prince. Peter teased the rim with his fingers, massaging it, getting it ready for what was to come.
The young man was putty in Peter’s hands, and he knew it. After he had massaged the opening enough, he pulled away slightly. He looked deeply into Kevin’s blue eyes, put his hands on the man’s shoulders, and pushed him down. Harder and harder he pushed, until the blond was on his knees before him. Peter’s hardon waved less than an inch from Kevin’s face, jutting out a good distance from the hem of his kilt.
“Kiss it. Pay homage to your Prince. Kiss it as you did my lips.”
Kevin stared at the waving prick for a long moment, then moved forward and planted his lush, wet lips on the head. Above him, Peter groaned loudly, his body stiffened, then relaxed. The blond began applying his tongue too, and slowly worked his mouth over the head. He kissed and licked and sucked, yes, sucked. He wanted this, he’d wanted it his whole life, he now knew. He worked the dick deeper, his lips moving down the shaft until he thought he would gag. Soon he had the whole thing in his mouth, the Prince’s furry balls pressed against his chin.
Peter began rocking back and forth. Kevin took the hint and moved with the rhythm, sucking and slobbering up and down the shaft. Peter laced his fingers behind the blond’s head, encouraging him to maintain a steady pace. Before too long, the Prince pulled out of Kevin’s mouth. He was very close, and he had plans yet to fulfill.
Unsteadily, Kevin got to his feet. His eyes were glazed with lust and his hair disheveled. “Why?” was all he could ask.
“Because we’ve more to do,” was all Peter would say. He pulled the blond to him and kissed him roughly, his hands once again wandering up under the other man’s kilt. Once more his fingers sought out the other man’s hole, digging deep into the crevice of his ass. Kevin slumped in his arms, moaning as Peter massaged his asshole.
Peter half-dragged the other man to his bed, then tossed him face down onto it. He pushed the rough plaid material of the man’s kilt up, exposing the object of his desire. Kevin’s white, rounded ass shone in the torchlight. His Lordship stuck his fingers in his mouth, getting them soaked with spit, then continued his assplay.
One by one, inch by inch, he worked his fingers into the young man’s ass. He moaned and squirmed beneath Peter’s touch, obviously enjoying the butt massage he was getting. When he took three fingers with ease, Peter decided he was ready.
He pulled Kevin up to his hands and knees. Standing beside the bed, Peter slathered his dick with spit, preparing it for the assault. Kevin started to say something, to caution the Prince that he had never done this. Peter silenced him quickly with, “Hush, I’ll go easy. I’ve taken more than one man’s cherry!”
Peter pulled the blond’s bare asscheeks apart, revealing his target. He planted the head of his cock at the opening. He pushed slowly, letting the other man relax, get used to the feel of the anal invader. As he pushed, he massaged and caressed Kevin’s ass, the feel of it in the palms of Peter’s hands driving him wild. When he was most of the way in, he stopped, let Kevin relax some more, then began a slow, short rhythm.
Beneath him, Kevin sighed. Peter felt the other man’s body go limp, completely relaxed. That was his cue to step up the pace. The cum churned in the Prince’s balls as he fucked, working more and more of his tool into the man’s ass until it was all in. Once that happened, he began longer strokes. Soon he was humping furiously, driving his dick in to the hilt, then pulling out past the crown, thrusting in and out faster and harder, his nuts nearing the boiling point. He bounced off the cheeks of Kevin’s ass as if they were rubber, all the while Kevin moaned and groaned and giggled madly, as if he were losing his mind. The blond reached back and began jacking his own hard dick, driving his passion higher.
“Here it comes, lad! A gift from your Prince!” yelled Peter as his prostate tripped and began to spasm. Feeling the spasms through his ass, Kevin went over the edge himself. The orgasm ripped through both of them, shredding whatever dignity either of them had left. Walls collapsed, floodgates opened as Peter’s cum gushed out in wave after wave of agonizing ecstasy. Both men screamed as one, their howls echoing down the empty halls of the castle.
When the Prince came to himself, he looked down, realizing his hands still fiercely clutched the other man’s hips. He relaxed his grip, began massaging the skin beneath his hands to soothe the battered flesh. Kevin collapsed onto the bed, followed by Peter. Both were breathing heavily, exhausted.

When they had rested, they began speaking again. “That is what goes on here. Did you enjoy it?” asked Peter.
Kevin looked into the Prince’s kind eyes and smiled. “Let me put it this way, my first official act as your advisor is: We should do that again!”
Outside the Prince’s Chambers, Raul smiled as Peter roared with laughter.