by Morgan James
Remy considered him for a long moment, then gave a hesitant soft smile. “Okay,” he murmured.
Ash smiled. Then, because he couldn’t deny himself a second longer, he crossed the room to kiss that inviting mouth. “Hey you.”
“Hey.” Remy pushed up to kiss him back. Warmth spread from his lips and his hands where they touched. Ash wanted to lean into it, into Remy, to learn what came next—
His stomach let out a large rumble, and Remy pulled away with a laugh.
Too tired to do anything else, Ash called down to room service. Before long, a tray arrived, weighed down with hot chocolate, popcorn, ricotta and fruit, and carrot cake.
Ash tipped the lady, then turned back to see Remy already had a spoonful of ricotta in his mouth and was moaning.
“Oh my God. Totally worth staying here for the food,” he sighed with delight.
Ash shook his head and, as he settled next to Remy on the couch, lifted a cup of cocoa made with heavy cream and dark chocolate, according to the menu. It was pure decadence. He’d need to wash it down with a ton of water. Worth it, though, after his long day.
“Good?” Remy asked. When Ash nodded, he reached for his own mug and hummed with delight. “I could get used to this,” Remy sighed, then snagged a strawberry and ran it through the ricotta.
Me too, Ash thought, not thinking of the menu at all.
“Even the popcorn is extra good.” Remy almost sounded betrayed, and Ash snickered into his drink.
Buoyed by a full stomach, a few ounces of caffeine, and Remy’s presence, Ash pushed aside his other burning desires—there would be time enough—and coaxed Remy out for a walk.
Inner Harbour was striking at night. Located inland and surrounded almost entirely by the city, the port in Victoria was unusual, Ash suspected, because from almost every direction, more of Victoria lay across the ocean waters.
Ash and Remy crossed the street, walked to the footpaths near the water, and headed north—so Remy said. They ambled, taking in the sights. Despite the hour and season, some people lingered, though Ash bet not nearly as many as there would be in a few weeks when summer tourism began.
Despite the chill in the air, the evening was pleasant. Though possibly Ash’s perceptions were colored by the warmth which shot up his arm and settled in his belly every time Remy’s hand bumped against his. His fingers tingled with the desire to curl around Remy’s. He brushed them together deliberately, spotted a laughing couple up ahead, then pulled away.
They curved around the bend of the marina and walked the length of a dock, Remy pointing out the different ships and sights, and sighing over the view. The last rays of light were fading from the skies, glinting off the water, and peeking from behind the buildings located farther west of them.
“It really is beautiful here. And,” he said, “rather romantic, yeah?”
Ash cleared his throat. “Aye.”
Remy smiled—it wasn’t his usual bright beaming grin, but something softer, satisfied. “Yeah. I thought so.”
They stood in silence for several long moments, watching the lights dim. Finally Remy turned with shining eyes and said, “Should we keep heading north?”
Ash nodded.
They walked back to the main path and continued their tour of the port.
“Have you ever been boating?” Remy asked.
Ash shook his head. “You?”
“No.” Remy contemplated one of the many moored crafts.
“Would you like to? We could probably hire someone to take us out, or join a tourist thing….”
Remy shook his head. “I don’t think I want to go boating.” His eyes sparkled with mischievous suggestion. “I don’t want to share you this time.”
“Oh.” Ash stuffed his hands awkwardly into his pockets.
Their pathway seemed to be converging with a more commercial area, with cars and roads.
“Maybe time to turn around?”
Ash agreed.
The Empress, Ash thought when it came into view, was stunning at night. Many of the buildings on the harbor were lit, but the Empress stood dramatic against the darkening sky and somehow managed to look more old-fashioned, grand, and romantic, despite shining with modern lights.
“Ohh,” Remy sighed.
“It’s lovely,” Ash whispered.
“Very.”
Ash turned from the Empress to a no-less-beautiful view of Remy, the lights shining off his green eyes and playing against his skin. No, Remy wasn’t just as beautiful, but more so. For one wild moment, Ash thought he should definitely kiss him, right here, right now.
Remy turned to him and inhaled sharply. “Ash,” he murmured.
Their gazes caught, and Ash couldnae look away. He wasn’t sure what, if anything, he should say.
Remy seemed not to have any such doubts. “It’s so romantic here. Everything—the hotel, the walk.” He turned to look at the Empress once again. “This weekend is so perfect. I can’t believe anyone would—did do this for me.” He kept his voice low, not that anyone was close enough to overhear.
Ash’s palms sweated and his heart pounded and he ached to take Remy into his arms. Once again Remy had spoken his mind and humbled Ash with his bravery. And Ash couldn’t help but respect it, to answer it with courage of his own.
“You’re worth it. You’ll always be worth it.”
And there was the blinding grin back again. Remy took a half step forward, and Ash felt himself leaning in, drawn by new memories of that soft, delicious mouth.
Kissing Remy was addicting. The feel of his mouth beneath his own, the taste, the warmth of his lips closing about Ash’s—
A bell jangled, and they parted as a bike zoomed past them.
“Jerk,” Remy said, but his tone was light and happy.
Ash turned to him, and Remy was still grinning.
“Time to go back to the hotel?”
“Aye,” Ash said embarrassingly quick. But Remy seemed rather gratified by it, so Ash didn’t waste time on embarrassment. Instead he curled his hand around Remy’s, surprised by his boldness, and tugged him in the direction of the hotel.
Ash wondered what Remy expected tonight. They’d kissed several times, but surely he’d want more? They’d not yet talked about things, only snogged like teenagers. Suddenly the hotel room with its one bed seemed very suggestive.
In the lift, Ash took a shaky breath. His skin prickled. He felt all too conscious of Remy next to him, their hands entangled. He clenched his free hand and tried to ignore that awareness and the desire curling in his belly. With Remy vibrating beside him, he felt right, like he was where he should be.
But what if he was wrong? What if Remy wanted more than he could give? Ash had never—
The lift doors opened.
Once in the room, they stared at each other for a long moment. Ash wasn’t quite sure what to do next. He wiped trembling hands on his jeans. What should he do? Would they…. What if he was bad at it?
Fortunately Remy didn’t lack confidence. He stepped forward and placed his left hand on Ash’s chest and settled his right on his cheek. He stroked a thumb across Ash’s cheekbone, sending shivers through him.
Ash curled his hands around Remy’s hips and brushed his own thumbs along the harsh ridge of them, thrilling at being able to touch. Remy was solid. Ash squeezed to feel the strong bone under his fingers.
Remy lifted and kissed him, sliding his wet mouth against Ash’s.
Panting, Ash tightened his hold on Remy’s hips and pressed back, enjoying the newly familiar touch.
Remy snaked his left arm around Ash’s neck, and Ash wrapped his round Remy and pressed it to the small of his back.
Remy hummed, soft and eager, slipped his tongue out, and ran it along Ash’s lower lip.
Ash gasped and then groaned when Remy slid his tongue in. Ash clutched him, tangling his fingers in the cotton of his shirt.
He felt hot. His skin tingled and burned under Remy’s touch. Remy rubbed his thumb over A
sh’s cheekbone again, and a shiver ran down his spine.
He pulled back. “Remy.”
Remy shivered in his arms and then purred softly, “Ash, fuck. So good.” He bumped their noses together again.
Ash let out a shaky breath. “Yeah?”
“So good.” Remy smiled. He licked his lips and then asked, “Wanna go make out on the couch?”
“Aye,” Ash breathed out shakily. Memories of other evenings pressed together left him hot and panting.
Remy tangled their fingers and stepped back. Then he pulled Ash across the living room to the sofa.
Ash swallowed hard. He was nervous, excited… afraid.
What if Remy expected….
He couldn’t not tell, surely. Maybe he should have confessed two weeks ago.
“I’ve—” He swallowed. Remy watched him with kind eyes, steady, patient, and took Ash’s trembling hands in his own. “I’ve no’ slept with someone as me.” He swallowed and then whispered, “Never with a bloke.”
Remy blinked. “Oh. Well, there’s no rush. And I’m more than happy to be your first.” Remy smiled and placed his hands flat on Ash’s chest, gently pushed him back so he sat, then stretched out on the sofa with his shoulders and head on an armrest.
Remy swung a leg over—literally—kneeled on the cushions, and hovered for a long moment. They’d not done this before, one on top of the other. Slowly Remy leaned forward and brushed their mouths together in a long, slow tease of catching, dragging lips, which sent heat rushing through Ash and tingled in his fingertips and toes.
Shaking, Ash wrapped his hands around Remy’s hips once again, needing to hold on to something or else he might float away. Or maybe tremble into a million pieces. His mind rushed with a thousand thoughts—Remy wanted to have sex with him, and he was going to sleep with a man, with Remy—and yet it seemed totally incapable of processing anything as Remy parted his lips and pressed himself closer.
He shifted and lay down on top of Ash, their legs tangled together, their chests pressed tight. He threaded his fingers in Ash’s hair, and Ash ran his hands up and down Remy’s back. He was so solid and warm, and his body weighing Ash down sent a thrill of delight up his spine. He couldn’t deny Remy was there, real, and in his arms.
Remy scratched his nails over Ash’s scalp, and Ash gasped. Too much. He reached up and took Remy’s hands in his, a silent request for no more. Remy murmured nonsense into his lips, then pressed their hands down onto the couch and squeezed, a silent I hear you.
Time slipped away as they touched and explored, but when Remy sneaked his hands toward Ash’s belt, he stiffened. His brain screeched to a halt.
Remy pulled back, slid his hands up to Ash’s chest, and whispered, “We should probably go to sleep.”
“Probably,” Ash agreed, near choked by gratitude, and tightened his arms.
Remy laughed, kissed him again, then pulled back. “Come on. Let’s go cuddle in the bed.”
Once up, they brushed their teeth, changed into pajamas—in separate rooms—and then curled up together under the comforter, limbs entwined. They weren’t using much of the king-sized bed.
They snogged again.
“This is good. Perfect,” Remy said softly.
Ash hummed his agreement and pressed a soft kiss to Remy’s nose.
It didn’t take long for them to drift to sleep, still curled up together, sharing space, their fingers intertwined.
Chapter Nine
CURLED on his side and cramped on the edge of the mattress, Ash woke up and stared at Remy splayed out on his back, his legs akimbo. His right arm was reached toward Ash, and his left flung over his head. Ash studied him.
With the early morning light casting shadows and making the sweep of his lashes appear longer, Remy looked angelic, sweet, nothing like the violent danger he embodied while they slept. Ash had woken suddenly in the middle of the night after Remy struck him in the face. Ruefully, he rubbed a hand over his cheek and wondered if Remy would always be a danger to sleep with. Giddiness bubbled in him. He should soon find out firsthand.
Ash had acted the morning after a time or two on-screen, but had never lived it. The one time he slept with a woman had been about “having fun” at uni—or trying to—not romance, and they’d awkwardly parted ways before they fell asleep.
Waking up with Remy was nothing like TV. For one, Remy didn’t wake up shortly after, catch Ash staring, and smile. Instead, Ash got out of bed, brushed his teeth, called for breakfast, and after a long moment’s deliberation, settled on the couch with his book. He was still there when room service arrived.
It was possible he’d gone a wee bit overboard. But not knowing what Remy might want, he ordered some of everything—waffles with fruit, banana-bread french toast, a garden-veggie omelet, a simpler eggs-and-bacon dish, as well as muffins and croissants, and coffee, tea, and juice.
Definitely overboard.
Figuring leftovers never hurt anyone, Ash shrugged and considered the next issue—if Remy didn’t wake soon, breakfast would go cold.
He chewed on his lip and was still considering the issue when Remy stumbled out of the bedroom, rubbing at his hair, flannel trousers slung temptingly low on his hips.
“Morning,” Remy said around a yawn. “Do I smell bacon? And coffee?” He blinked at Ash, kissed his cheek, then noticed the breakfast. “Oh, you sweet man, you. You’re perfect.” He pressed a lingering kiss to Ash’s mouth, dragging his lips and swiping at Ash’s with his tongue. Then he pulled back and snagged a piece of bacon, leaving Ash hot and bothered in his wake. He took a bite and then stuffed the end into his mouth to hold it as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He ate the rest of the bacon and doctored the cup, then sat down and cradled it to him.
Bemused, Ash settled across from him and poured some tea.
“I used to hate coffee,” Remy said after a couple of minutes of silence. Ash looked up from his waffle. “Hmm, very proud of not liking it too. I couldn’t bear it without plenty of cream and sugar, much too bitter.” He sighed. “Then I went to grad school and got hopelessly addicted.” He yawned, scratched his nose, and then seemed to take in the spread at last. He stared at it for a moment, blinking, then shook himself. He observed the contents with narrowed eyes, a general surveying the battlefield. Then he reached for the french toast and placed a slice on an empty plate. “Thanks for breakfast.”
Ash shrugged. “No problem.” He’d been prepared to feel awkward. Leave it to Remy to know what to do.
Remy took a couple of bites, drank more of his coffee, and at last seemed to wake up. “Oh man. Sorry. I’m kind of useless in the morning.” He cocked his head. “How are you? Did you sleep okay? And thanks for all this. It’s amazing, and I would have been way too useless to order any of it.” He smiled, the soft one Ash was fast becoming addicted to.
Uncomfortable with the gratitude, Ash said, “I slept alright.” Then, eyeing Remy from beneath his lashes, he added slyly, “Well, except for the attack.”
Eyes narrowed, Remy asked, “Attack?”
Ash nodded. “Aye. In the wee hours. Me, I was having a good dream when someone decided to wallop me in the face.” He smiled to show he was uninjured.
“Well,” Remy said, gaze still shrewd, “maybe you deserved it.”
“While I was sleeping?”
“Hmm. You said you were having a good dream. Maybe someone was trying to ward off your amorous advances?”
Ash snorted. Amorous? “If I had any, I doubt anyone here would object to them.” He gave a defiant stare, which Remy met, eyes still slitted.
The contest lasted for half a minute before Remy broke. He chuckled and said, “Oh man, you’re probably right. Probably would have sleepwalked my way through the make out.” His gaze turned searching as he swept it over Ash’s face. “Did I really hit you in the face?”
Ash shrugged. “Aye. No’ very hard, though. I survived.” He took a sip of juice. He meant to leave it there but suddenly felt compelled to blurt out
apologetically, “But I might have escaped to the other end of the bed.”
Remy laughed, sounding relieved. “Oh, good!” He shook his head. “I’ve been told I’m terrible to sleep with. I once literally kicked my first boyfriend out of bed.” He grinned sheepishly, and the knotted tension Ash hadn’t known was building began to loosen.
“Really?”
“Yeah. We were in the dorms, small beds. Poor guy. He cursed me out—in two languages, no less, French and English. I’m a pretty heavy sleeper, but that woke me up. Well, him and his roommate, who also felt the need to swear at me.” Remy grinned, looking unrepentant.
“So, you’re saying I should be grateful the bed was too large for you to throw me out of it?”
“Yes, definitely.” Remy’s eyes danced. Ash looked back, as helpless as ever to resist. For a long moment, they smiled stupidly at each other over their breakfast, and Ash felt entirely content, not embarrassed at all.
THEY spent the rest of the day playing tourist. They went to Hatley, of course, to visit the castle, because “X-Men and Smallville, Ash,” and Remy bought a key chain, grinning like a nutter the whole time.
They paid the entrance fee and wandered the gardens. When they found themselves out of view of the castle and of any other tourists, Remy reached out and tangled their fingers together. He laughed and smiled and, more ridiculously, lifted Ash’s hand so he could kiss his fingers.
Foolishly, Ash let him. It didn’t feel like anyone was watching here. It felt safe to be daft and affectionate, to let Remy hold his hand and snog him. Ash leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to the apple of Remy’s cheek to watch the way he went pink and giggled.
At the pond, they crossed a bridge and found themselves so sheltered by trees and felt so alone that they couldn’t help but come together for a long, passionate snog. Remy curled his fingers in Ash’s hair, and Ash wrapped his hands around Remy’s ribs.
“I’ve been longing to do that all day. Why didn’t I when we were still at the hotel?”