The front door slammed shut behind the security team. For a moment, no one moved. The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy, pressurised. The kind that makes every breath feel like it might crack something open.
Carlo stood near the entrance, chest rising and falling like he’d just surfaced from deep water. The sharp, metallic tang of the taser still lingered in the air. Behind him, Willem stood with arms folded, eyes hard. Anna gripped a dishtowel in both hands, twisting it slowly. And Liam was shaking.
Carlo looked from one face to the next, then back to Liam.
"Who..." His voice faltered. "Who was that?"
No one answered right away.
"Someone from the past," Willem said at last. Quiet. Controlled. "Someone who was supposed to stay there."
He paused, jaw tight. "He was incarcerated a few years back - petty theft, money laundering, assault charges. Aggressive behaviour. We didn’t even know he was out on parole."
Carlo frowned. "But he knew Liam. He said things... personal things."
Willem exchanged a glance with Anna, then stepped back as Carlo turned to Liam.
"Who is he?"
Liam still hadn’t looked up. His voice came out low, almost inaudible. "He was... a mistake."
Carlo moved closer, gently. "You mean you knew him? Like..."
Liam finally looked up, his face drawn. “He’s my ex – sort of. Not the kind of ex you talk about. More like a warning label I never stuck on myself.
Carlo blinked. "I didn’t know you had an ex."
Liam’s jaw clenched. He looked down at his hands. “I didn’t think I needed to tell you. Not about him.
His voice dropped lower. “Just hearing his voice again… it was like my skin forgot how to breathe. Like every bruise came back at once. He’s the kind of man who doesn’t let go. Who makes you believe he’s still watching, even when you’re continents away.”
Anna’s voice broke in, soft but shaking. "His name is Nico."
Carlo’s entire body went still. His expression darkened, and something cold and dangerous flickered behind his eyes. “If he ever touches you again… if he even breathes near you,” he said, voice low and shaking, “I’ll kill him. I swear to God, Liam. I don’t care what it costs me.”
Liam looked up, startled by the intensity.
Carlo’s voice softened just slightly. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. Not of him. Not of anyone. I’m here now. And I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
Liam’s breath caught on the way out as he explained more. "It started small. Subtle. He’d isolate me. Took my phone from me so I couldn’t call anyone. Criticise how I dressed, who I saw, what I ate. Then came the guilt trips. The tantrums. The way he’d shove me just hard enough to make me stumble, then call me dramatic. He always made it feel like I was the one losing control."
Carlo didn’t interrupt. He took another step forward, hands at his sides, realising that Liam needs to talk now.
"I tried to make it work. Thought if I just kept my head down, tried harder, he’d stop. But it got worse. He started grabbing me during arguments. Shoving turned into slaps. Once, he locked me out of the apartment in nothing but a towel because I said something he didn’t like. Another time, he slammed me against the fridge hard enough to bruise my ribs. I stopped going shirtless at the gym. Told people I fell off my bike."
Liam’s voice faltered, and he looked away.
"The last night – the night I left... he backhanded me so hard I tasted blood. Then he threw a plate. It shattered against the wall behind my head."
Anna turned away and wiped her eye. Willem stood frozen.
Liam’s voice grew quieter. "That night I waited until he passed out from the drinking he loved so much. I packed a bag, grabbed my passport, and left. I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my parents. I booked a flight to L.A. and disappeared."
Carlo’s heart clenched. "You went through all of that on your own?"
"I was ashamed. I didn’t want anyone to see what I’d become. I thought if I could bury it deep enough, maybe it wouldn’t touch this, what we have now."
Carlo moved to him slowly and cupped his face.
"You didn’t become anything. You survived."
Liam swallowed hard. "I didn’t want to be damaged goods."
He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if remembering the weight they once carried. “I landed in California with nothing but a backpack and a bruised sense of who I was. I didn’t even have a job lined up - just enough savings to last a few weeks. I texted my parents to tell them I was safe, but I didn’t give them details. I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready. I started training clients at a small gym in Venice, sleeping in a shared flat with peeling paint and broken blinds. I kept my head down and worked. Slowly, I built something. A routine. A reputation. Strength. I became someone I could look in the mirror and not flinch away from. That’s who you met.”
"You’re not damaged goods." Carlo’s voice was steady. "You’re strong. And you’re mine."
Liam’s hands came up to Carlo’s chest, gripping lightly as though to anchor himself.
Anna’s voice broke the quiet again. "He’ll sell this. The way he looked at Carlo, the things he said... it’s a matter of time."
Willem nodded. "And when the press get hold of it - "
"They won’t," Carlo said, turning. "Not if we leave now."
Liam blinked in surprise. "Now?"
"I’ll call Gustavo. My mother’s jet is ready to move. We’ll take off after sunset from the private strip. Quiet. No attention."
Anna stepped forward, heart braking but with the quiet resolve only a mother can muster. "We’ll help you pack."
The house stirred into motion on Anna’s orders.
She moved through the rooms with purpose, folding clothes, finding documents, pressing tins of rusks into cases like charms against the unknown. Willem helped where he could, steady, heartbroken, but subdued.
Liam stood in the doorway of his childhood room, looking at the wardrobe that hadn’t changed since he left. Folded gym clothes. A hoodie he hadn’t worn in years. Dust gathering in corners he’d never meant to return to.
How strange that this was where his life fell apart. And now, where it began again.
Carlo entered behind him and closed the door.
"The jet’s confirmed. We’ll leave after dark. It’ll be discreet."
Liam turned. "And when we land?"
"We face it. Together. From the palace. On our terms. No more secrets. No more letting someone else tell our story."
Liam hesitated. "What if my past still follows me?"
Carlo stepped closer. "Then I’ll walk beside you. No matter what."
That broke something in him.
Liam reached for Carlo, pulled him close, and kissed him. Desperate. Grateful. Full of everything he couldn’t say.
"I just want it to be over."
"It will be," Carlo said. "We’re going home."
By sunset, everything was ready. The bags were packed. The house dimmed and quiet. The convoy pulled up without ceremony, black cars idling like sentries.
Anna handed Liam a tin of rusks, then cupped his face like she had when he was a boy. "I want pictures of the two of you. Smiling. Safe."
"You’ll get them Ma," he said.
Willem pulled Carlo into a firm hug that surprised them both. Carlo hesitated for only a second before wrapping his arms around the older man, feeling the solid weight of the gesture settle into his chest.
“Take care of him,” Willem said, voice low, roughened with something deeper than formality.
Carlo pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “Always, Pa.”
That one word landed hard.
Anna’s breath hitched, and she turned abruptly, dabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she murmured, though her voice trembled with emotion. “Why does this feel like we’re sending our children off to war?”
“You kind of are,” Liam said gently, trying to lighten the moment - but his own throat was tight, and the smile he gave his mother was watery at best.
Willem held Carlo’s shoulders, eyes locked on his. His voice dropped further, low and hoarse with unspoken fear. “He’s all I have, my seun. But now.. I have you too.”
Carlo’s breath caught. He opened his mouth, but nothing came. Just a small, stunned nod — and the silent, reverent understanding that he’d just been entrusted with more than Liam’s heart. He’d been claimed. Welcomed. Loved.
“I won’t fail him,” Carlo whispered.
Willem didn’t answer - just gripped his shoulder once more and stepped back, blinking hard against the mist in his eyes.
Then Anna was there, reaching for Liam, pulling him into a fierce hug that left both of them quietly crying, while behind them, the plane waited - doors open, engines warm - ready to carry them into the unknown.
At the top of the aircraft stairs, Carlo turned back to Liam.
"You ready?"
Liam nodded. "Yeah. I am now."
They boarded together. The door closed behind them. And the jet began to roll.
Liam stepped into the cabin and froze.
He’d expected luxury - sure. Carlo was a prince, after all. But this was something else entirely. Cream leather recliners stretched wide like thrones. The wood panelling glowed honey-gold under soft, dimmable lights. Crystal glasses sat in perfectly aligned holders beside a silver ice bucket already sweating gently with condensation.
“Jesus,” Liam breathed.
Carlo stepped past him, almost bashfully. “My mother always overdoes the hospitality on royal flights. Technically this is her private jet, but I may have mentioned you were coming.”
“You think?” Liam laughed softly, brushing his fingers over the polished trim of the nearest seat. “I feel like I’m about to be proposed to by the aircraft itself.”
Carlo’s grin was gentle. “You kind of are.”
Liam turned to him, something deeper sparkling behind his eyes.
They didn’t sit right away. The engines purred to life beneath their feet as the steward gave a quick nod and closed the door behind them. The outside world disappeared. The hum rose. They began to move.
They sat down next to each other. Liam turned to the window and watched the land slip away beneath them, soft and endless, vanishing into cloud and sky. It was strange - how something so massive could look so small from up here. The hills, the homes, the life they’d been trying to build, first in Los Angeles, now here. All of it now fading into distance.
For a moment, emotion tightened in his chest. He was leaving everything behind.
But he wasn’t doing it alone.
He turned back toward Carlo.
“I need you to know,” he said, voice quiet but unwavering, “that I’m not going with you just for the luxury. Or because I’m scared and need the security. I’m going because I want to build a life with you. In public. And in private. I want to be with you - and I don’t want to disappear into your world. I need to be myself in it.”
Carlo crossed the cabin slowly and took his hands. “Then we’ll carve space for you in every corner of it. I don’t want a life that doesn’t include you exactly as you are.”
Liam nodded, his throat tightening. “Good. Because I’m scared shitless.”
Carlo smiled and kissed his knuckles. “Me too.”
They sat like that for a moment, the hush between them thick with meaning - turbulence barely a whisper beneath them - until the tension shifted. Not fear now. Not flight. Something warmer. Needier.
Carlo’s hands slid up Liam’s arms, cradling his face. He kissed him, slowly at first, then deeper. A low sound escaped Liam’s throat as he stepped closer, pressing his chest against Carlo’s. Heat bloomed between them.
“Fuck me,” Liam whispered, his voice a rasp. “Here. Now.”
Carlo blinked, startled, aroused. “Are you sure?”
Liam tugged his shirt off. “Yes. I want to feel you take me home.”
That was all it took.
Clothes scattered fast - Liam’s jeans undone, Carlo’s shirt dropped to the plush carpet. Liam leaned back into the wide reclining seat, cock hard and leaking, chest rising fast as he watched Carlo kneel between his legs and kiss up the inside of his thigh.
Carlo reached for the small drawer beneath the armrest, pulling out a discreet black kit - lube, condoms, warm wipes. Trust a royal jet to be stocked for emergencies of the intimate kind.
He lubed his fingers, eyes locked on Liam’s. “Tell me if - ”
“I’ll tell you if you stop,” Liam growled.
Carlo slicked him open with patience and reverence, fingers moving with practiced care until Liam arched and swore under his breath. Carlo rose, sheathed himself, and hovered over him.
“Ready?”
“Please,” Liam gasped.
The first push made Liam’s breath catch - familiar stretch, new position. New trust. His fingers clutched at Carlo’s shoulders as he adjusted, legs hooking around his waist. Carlo paused, kissed his cheek, then began to move.
Slow. Deep. Purposeful.
Liam moaned - not from pain, but from the dizzying rightness of it. Carlo was inside him. Claiming him. Not with force, but with reverence. Every thrust a promise. Every gasp shared between them.
The seat rocked slightly beneath them, soft leather creaking, the hum of the plane a steady backdrop to their rising rhythm. Liam clung tighter, pulling Carlo in deeper, anchoring himself to the moment.
“Don’t stop,” he begged.
“I won’t,” Carlo whispered. “I won’t ever.”
Their bodies shuddered together, sweat slicking their skin. When Liam came, it was with a cry muffled into Carlo’s neck - helpless, fierce, grateful. Carlo followed moments later, buried deep, whispering his name like a vow.
After, they lay tangled in the seat, breath slowing, bodies still joined.
Liam stroked Carlo’s back, lips against his ear. “I don’t know what’s waiting in Bologna.”
Carlo smiled, sleepy and wrecked. “Whatever it is… we’ll face it together.”
Liam let his eyes drift closed, the cabin lights dimming to a soft gold.
“Let’s go home,” he whispered again - this time, with no fear at all.
The low hum of the jet softened as they lay wrapped around each other, sweat-slicked and spent, their mixed release evidence of what they just shared, Carlo’s cheek against Liam’s shoulder. Their breathing was just starting to slow when the soft hiss of the cabin door sounded.
Carlo barely had time to lift his head before the steward stepped in - clipboard in hand, professional smile already forming - and froze.
“Oh!” the man said, voice pitching higher than intended. He blinked once, twice, eyes wide as they landed on Liam’s bare chest, on Carlo’s naked thighs draped across him, on the telltale mess glistening between them.
Liam stiffened. “Shit - ”
Carlo scrambled to pull a discarded shirt over Liam’s lap, his own cheeks flushing bright red. “I – we - ”
The steward cleared his throat and straightened his tie, but not before Liam noticed the way his eyes lingered for a second too long on Carlo’s exposed royal jewels, still half-hard, dripping with that sheen that can only happen after sex. “Gentlemen. My apologies. I… simply came to offer refreshments before descent.”
“We’re good,” Liam said, voice caught somewhere between sheepish and amused.
The steward nodded quickly. “Right. I’ll just… see to preparations.” He turned smartly on his heel and retreated through the cabin, giving the cum-stained Liam another quick glance over his shoulder that lasted just too long, before clicking the door shut behind him.
A moment passed. Then another.
Carlo groaned and buried his face in Liam’s neck. “I want to die.”
Liam laughed softly, threading fingers through Carlo’s curls. “I think we just traumatised him.” And then - “He couldn’t stop staring at your exposed cock though!”
“Or the cum on your belly, ” Carlo laughed
But just then - faint, unmistakable - came the muffled sound of a moan. Followed by another. From the direction of the rear bathroom.
They both froze.
“No,” Carlo whispered.
“Oh yes,” Liam replied, smirking. “Either he’s very passionate about folding towels… or he’s helping himself to the in-flight entertainment.”
Carlo pulled a pillow over his face. “I take it back. Now I really want to die.”
They dressed quickly, quietly - Liam still chuckling under his breath, Carlo managing only a series of muttered curses in Italian. When they finally settled into their seats, fresh water in hand and shirt buttons done up to the neck, the steward re-emerged with cheeks slightly flushed and eyes very pointedly not meeting theirs. He had a tell-tale stain of cum on his waistcoat. Neither of them dared acknowledge it.
“We’ll be beginning our descent shortly,” he said, with the clipped precision of a man trying not to remember what he just saw - or what he just did. “I’ll be securing the cabin.”
Carlo nodded, lips pressed into a polite smile. Liam simply gave a thumbs up and said, “Great view from here.”
The steward didn’t answer.
Once he left again, Carlo turned toward Liam, eyes dancing. “You’re evil.”
“You’re the one who brought me on a sex jet.”
“It’s a royal transport aircraft,” Carlo insisted.
Liam gave him a look.
Carlo gave up. “Fine. Sex jet.”
The humour ebbed slowly, giving way to something quieter as the cabin lights dimmed further and the city lights of Bologna sparkled through the window.
Liam looked out at the golden web below - elegant streets, terracotta rooftops, winding rivers - and felt his stomach tighten.
Carlo reached for his hand.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
“I think so.” Liam turned toward him. “I just don’t know what to expect.”
“You don’t have to,” Carlo said. “You’re not walking into that palace alone. I’m with you. Every room. Every question. Every look.”
Liam squeezed his hand. “You really believe we’ll be okay?”
Carlo looked at him, and for the first time in days, his answer was immediate. “Yes. Because we’ve already been through the worst. And we chose each other anyway.”
The tires of the plane met tarmac with a soft jolt, and the jet slowed to a taxiing glide. The city rose up around them, regal and old and sprawling. On the private tarmac of the palace, a fleet of black cars waited - understated but unmistakably royal.
Outside the window, shadows moved. Security detail. A pair of staff members in formal wear. A driver.
And beyond them, the outline of the palace loomed distant but undeniable, lights glowing against the night.
Liam took a deep breath.
Carlo kissed his knuckles again. “We’re home.”
And as the door opened and the cool Italian air drifted in, they rose to meet whatever waited.
Together.
