by Morgan James
“Because we never would have left”—Ash’s heart thumped wildly against his ribs to say those words—“and you had to see the castle. Just had to,” Ash murmured.
Remy chuckled, low and intimate. “Definitely wouldn’t have left the room.” He gave what Ash could only describe as bedroom eyes, lids low, and Ash shivered with pleasure and a sense of naughtiness—to be doing this in public, to do it at all. He gripped Remy tighter.
They wandered about the grounds so slowly it was well past noon by the time they returned to the main house and tried the café. After their plates were cleaned, Remy stubbornly insisted on paying the bill.
“Eating here was my idea,” Ash pointed out reasonably.
“Yes, but you’re covering everything this weekend. Let me at least pay for this?”
Ash didn’t want to relent but conceded the argument when Remy handed his card over faster.
They headed back toward the hotel and wandered the harbor district in daylight, popping into shops and laughing like giddy children in store aisles. Over and over, Ash caught himself watching Remy. He wondered if Remy knew he glowed.
They had dinner in the hotel restaurant, tucked into a corner, candles on the table, their toes bumping together under cover of the cloth. Ash had never played footsie before.
And he definitely never had someone run the tops of their toes up and down his calf while they grinned at him over dishes of risotto and seafood.
“You’ve really never done this?”
Ash shook his head. “No. Never wanted to with anyone else.”
“Aw, you sweet-talker, you.” Remy winked, but it didnae disguise the rising heat in his gaze. “Now, please tell me we’re not having dessert, because I would very much like to go back to our room so I can kiss you a lot.”
So they did.
They snogged until their lips were bruised, Remy’s cheeks pink from Ash’s beard, and their shirts missing, until they were pressed tightly together, and Ash surprised them both by coming in his jeans, trembling and gasping and apologizing while Remy ran gentling hands over him.
Then, after Ash calmed down, Remy opened his trousers and undulated over him, rubbing his briefs-covered dick into Ash’s hip until he too came, babbling Ash’s name.
THEY stayed in bed Sunday morning. Ash ordered them more room service, then took the trays back to bed. They lounged together under the sheets, sipping coffee and tea and feeding each other fruit, cheese, and pastry between kisses.
Ash pulled up TripAdvisor on his phone, looking for something touristy to do, but Remy grabbed it and chucked it onto the nightstand.
“I’d rather stay right here,” he murmured.
“But,” Ash said, trying to pull away from Remy’s lips and finding he had a severe lack of willpower, “don’t you want to see more stuff while you’re here?”
“I can come back,” Remy said, somewhat savagely.
He pushed Ash onto his back and straddled his hips. Ash was rapidly learning how much he liked it—having Remy over him, his weight across his hips, letting Remy guide him through.
“But you’re here now,” he pointed out, not really protesting anymore. If Remy wanted to stay in bed until checkout, who was he to argue?
“Who cares?” Remy asked and kissed him before he could say more.
Several long, snog-filled moments later, they were forced apart in order to silence the obnoxious trilling of Ash’s phone. He caught sight of the time and groaned.
“Checkout in half an hour.”
Remy sighed regretfully, stood, and headed straight for the shower.
They rushed to get all their things into their bags, laughing as they threw items across the room to get them to their rightful owner.
“We have a few hours before we catch the bus to the ferry,” Ash mentioned as they rode the lift down.
“Walk around the neighborhood?”
“Whatever you want.”
Remy lunged forward to press a quick kiss to Ash’s lips, but he pulled back in time for the doors to open. Ash shook his head and led the way to the lobby desk.
As they stood in the queue, Remy spotted his friends from the first day and said, “I’m gonna say goodbye,” and left Ash alone. A fact for which he was grateful when he was presented with a bill well over two thousand dollars. Last-minute rooms were never cheap, he thought ruefully and vowed never to tell Remy.
That afternoon, as they settled on the bus for the ferry, he felt as though they were leaving a bubble, like they’d been living in a state unconnected to the real world. Like an island? he thought sarcastically and pushed away his maudlin thoughts.
Remy was warm and next to him, pressing their knees subtly together and asking Ash about the view out the window. The weekend had been amazing, yes, but that wouldn’t stop or disappear when they got to Vancouver. They would still be dating, and life wisnae going to fall apart because they took a boat.
Ash pressed back, enjoying the weight, and focused on Remy’s rambles about the clouds.
Vancouver could wait until they got there.
Chapter Ten
ETTA drove Ash to work the following day.
Mondays were reserved for table reads of the latest script, last-minute reshoots, and for looping so the editors could touch up and add any missing audio from previous episodes.
They’d booked Ash for a recording stint right after the read, so Etta opted to work out at the studio.
“You got home late last night.” She reached over to flick the script sitting in Ash’s lap, which he had shamefully not finished reading.
“Yeah.”
She waited for him to say more, but he wasn’t sure where to start.
“You have a good weekend, then? Fun time on the island?”
“Yeah. Remy dragged me to see the castle at Hatley.” He smiled fondly at the memory of Remy muttering about homoerotic symbolism and Lex Luthor.
“And of course you were happy to go see it again, you nerd.”
“The grounds are beautiful,” Ash defended. Yes, he’d gone to Hatley years before because of its role on film, but he never would let Remy drag him back if it weren’t worth seeing. Or maybe he would if Remy wanted. Ash couldn’t resist those eyes.
“Right,” Etta drawled skeptically.
Ash narrowed his eyes. “How was your weekend?”
“Good.” She drummed nervously on the steering wheel for a moment, then said, “Carlo at the gym asked me about teaching again.”
“Oh?” Carlo had been after Etta to teach self-defense and aikido for ages, but Etta always said no, not ready for a job so much more social than the mostly quiet existence Ash offered.
“Yeah.” Rat-a-tat. “I’m thinking I’ll say yes. Just one class to start, but… it sounds nice.”
Good. It would be good for her, and she was wasted hiding as his glorified companion. “You’ll make a quality teacher.”
“I hope so,” she said, pulling into the car park. As she waited to be waved through the gate, she shot him a pleased smile, which he returned.
At the table read, Janet called them all to attention and announced, “Before we get started, I wanted to take a moment to congratulate you all on such a strong start. Only two episodes out, and we’ve already got a fan base and positive critical reviews.”
A cheer went around the table.
“So give yourself a pat on the back for good work.” She winked. Then her expression turned serious. “And I’m aware of the fuss some quarters are making, but those quarters are never happy, and they’re forcing the fans to be vocal. So focus on the good, people, because I’m proud to be part of this project.” She smiled and sat down, motioning for this week’s director to take the reins.
After the read, Ash headed to audio, and throughout the somewhat dull process of rerecording lines, gasps, and grunts, he reminded himself about the love for the show.
“That’s all for today,” the tech said, releasing Ash midafternoon. And after a quick “Cheers, see you ne
xt week, Jialee,” Ash hustled from the booth and pulled out his phone.
The text icon sat at the top of his screen. He clicked on Etta’s conversation first but found nothing new there.
All done. Meet at entrance? he sent.
He found a text from Langston, pictures of the kids, both of them covered head-to-toe in mud. Sure you don’t miss Scottish rain?
Ash typed back, Snort, Vancouver isnae better. Cute pics though.
Next came a text from Adele, ex-costar extraordinaire. She’d sent a shot of the California sunshine and Strangely I still miss the rainy north. And you. Miss me?
Always. Come see me, he wrote. The hardest part about Restraint ending had been the loss of his friends; several of his costars had left the city for other projects. He missed Adele the most, as she’d been such a constant in his life for those six years and they’d both been rubbish at staying in touch.
Last he found a text from Remy. You’re here today, right? Come see me in writer’s room before you leave?
Damn. Did he have time? Would Etta be annoyed if he asked for another twenty at least?
His phone pinged with a new message from Etta Haynes. Give me thirty to shower.
Okay np, he wrote to her, and On my way to Remy.
Tucked in a corner of the studio sat the writers’ wing, a series of offices for writers’ meetings and script doctors. Each office was a large room with a landline, several sockets, and a substantial conference table.
Ash found the door with a printed sign which said “Mythfits Writers’ Room.” Someone had written below in red Sharpie, Enter at risk of faery curse, and another smartass had added in black ink, Beware of vampires, werewolves, and other beasties.
The door was ajar, so Ash knocked and peered in. Remy was sat alone at the table, his brow furrowed and his laptop open and ignored as he wrote feverishly in a notebook.
“Hey?”
“Ash! You came!” His frown melted into a smile. “Give me a second to finish making notes about this? I don’t want to forget.”
Ash entered the room, nudged the door shut behind him, and waited until Remy stopped scribbling. “How goes it?”
“Okay, but so much better now you’re here,” Remy said impishly and hopped across the room. As Ash figured he would, Remy slung his arms around his shoulders and snogged him dirtily, openmouthed and with liberal tongue. “I’ve been thinking about that since I woke up. I had the dirtiest dream last night.” He smiled wistfully.
“Yeah?” Ash prompted. He didn’t know how to do this, but he was willing to be led.
“Hmm, yeah. We were tangled up in bed, I was riding you—” Ash’s grip tightened involuntarily. “Like the idea, do you?”
Ash’s mouth went dry. “I like everything with you.”
“Sap,” Remy said, but he kissed Ash again, so that couldn’t be too terrible a thing.
They snogged until Ash’s phone beeped in his pocket. Etta. “I have to go.”
“Noooo,” Remy whined.
“Etta is waiting.”
“Let her wait longer. I need you more.”
“You do?” Ash smiled, teasing, but his heart leapt at the thought of Remy needing him.
“Yeah. What’s she doing? I’m researching monsters, trying to find candidates for episodes, and writing summaries on them and their powers and any suggestions for plots I might have.”
“And that’s—what? Boring?” Ash fought the smile tugging at his mouth.
“Yes.”
“Liar. You love doing research.”
Remy stuck out his bottom lip and widened his eyes, but Ash rolled his own and tucked that lip back in with a finger.
“More than a wee bit. So much so, I think maybe you’re using it to avoid writing?”
Remy wrinkled his nose. “Maybe,” he sulked.
“How goes it?”
“The writing? Shit as ever.”
Ash pressed a kiss to Remy’s forehead. “How about you come over after you’re done here, and I’ll feed you.”
Remy narrowed his eyes. “Food that you’re making?”
Ash snorted. “Well, I was going to make that chicken thing you showed me, but if you’re going to be like that….”
“You’re not ready to fly solo on the chicken thing.”
“Ouch. Fine. What about sushi?”
“Ooh, I love sushi.” Remy wiggled happily, leaned into him further, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Salmon maki? And tuna rolls? Oh, and extra wasabi and ginger.”
“Salmon, tuna, wasabi, ginger. Got it.”
“You’re the best boyfriend ever,” Remy sighed.
Ash’s stomach jumped and his heart pounded. Boyfriend. “Aye,” he rasped and cleared his throat. “And dinnae forget it.”
“Never,” Remy said in that dreamy tone. Then he pressed one last kiss to Ash’s lips before stepping away and pushing him towards the door. “Now go and buy me lots of sushi. I’ll see you around six?”
“Six,” Ash promised and left. Then he made his way to the front door and Etta. He should probably be more circumspect, but try as he might, he couldn’t get the smile off his face.
ASH put the leftover salad in the fridge, loaded the plates into the dishwasher, and turned to the living room. He paused at the breakfast bar and stared at Remy curled on the couch. He’d settled with his back on the armrest, his chin resting on his knees, and was reading a book propped on a pillow at his feet. Ash smiled as Remy flipped a page, scoffed, read for a moment, muttered at the book, then turned another page. Not wanting to disturb him, Ash stayed put.
He couldn’t believe it had already been a week since their rendezvous in Victoria—a week of stolen kisses in Ash’s dressing room and Remy’s office, of dinners at Ash’s place, of meals in the cafeteria where they kept their distance but sneaked heated looks, of tea breaks in secluded corners, of learning Remy’s body and what Remy liked, of discovering what he liked himself, and most surprising of all, with some nights spent tangled up in the same sheets, partially clothed but still reveling in the intimacy. Ash couldn’t believe how lovely it was to simply sleep with someone, to spend the last moments of the day knowing they’d be the first person you’d see upon waking. He loved it, even when he woke up in the middle of the night bruised and wondering if he wasn’t risking his life being in such close quarters with an unconscious Remy. But he knew he’d never want to give it up. Better to be bruised and with Remy than unscathed without him.
On the couch, Remy huffed and wrinkled his nose. Ash smiled. Not even the increasingly irate idiots on the internet could get him to stop smiling this week.
A few minutes later, Remy frowned, reached down into his messenger bag, and pulled out a small laptop. He snapped it open, perused the screen, and started tapping furiously.
Wanting to soothe those lines, Ash made his way over to the couch. He settled at Remy’s feet and waited until he had finished typing. “Y’alright?”
Remy lifted his gaze, focused on Ash, and smiled without humor. “Fine. Just… frustrated.”
“Your script?”
“Two steps forwards, two back, you know?” He sighed gustily. “Maybe I should chuck it.”
Ash smoothed the frown lines out of Remy’s forehead. “No. Don’t. I’m sure it’s good.” He’d offered to read it several times, but Remy always refused, so Ash kept mum on that topic now. “That werewolf puppy episode was fantastic.”
“I didn’t write it,” Remy pointed out.
“Maybe not the full thing, but the story was your idea. Don’t worry about the dialogue being perfect—focus on the story and it’ll be fine.” He placed his hand on Remy’s foot and gently stroked his ankle.
Remy tilted his head and regarded him. “Sweet-talker.” He sighed. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t get the plot to work.”
“Tell me about it?” Ash asked gently, trying to keep any presumption from his tone.
Remy chewed his lip and then, to Ash’s surprise, did just that.
“It’s about the lightning bird. They’re African, shape-shifters, and often a witch’s familiar.” He licked his abused lip. “I’m not sure where to go with it.”
“Hmm.” Ash twisted and settled so he sat facing Remy, but kept his hand settled on Remy’s foot. “Tell me more about the lightning bird?”
“Oh. Um, let’s see. Well, it’s a bird, obviously, unless it’s taken human shape. It can summon thunder and lightning. Sometimes it’s a vampire, with an unending thirst for blood, and sometimes a witch’s familiar. Oh, and sometimes they’re immortal, so they get passed down through the witch family.”
“Mm. Kind of like Hamish?”
Remy jerked, stared at Ash for a moment, blinked, then smiled. “Yes. Exactly like Hamish. I think this plot just got so much better. Obviously this lightning bird character should parallel Hamish’s story. He’s supposed to mostly interact with Niall and Roxanne—vampire bird and all—but well, Hamish details always work in a Niall story.” Remy winked.
For some reason Ash didn’t understand, he blushed. Ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he were Hamish or had any real control over Hamish’s brewing romance with Niall. Yet the wink made him embarrassed and guilty.
“Are you blushing?”
“Stuff it.”
“No, no! Why are you blushing?” Remy’s smile dimmed. “Seriously, why the red cheeks?” He reached out and swept a thumb over one.
“Only….” Ash swallowed. “It doesn’t bother you?”
“What?” Remy frowned.
Ash gestured vaguely. “The… romance.”
“The Hamish and Niall story? No? I think it’s awesome the show’s so queer.”
Ash frowned. He’d known Remy approved of the story line, but surely he’d changed his mind now they were dating. “Yes. But they’ll snog eventually. Maybe not this series, but Janet doesn’t want to wait too long, says she doesn’t want to X-Files it.”
Remy snorted. “That’s good. And it doesn’t bother me. I mean, okay, it’s not going to be great seeing you kiss another guy now, but I know it’s not you. It’s Hamish. And to be honest”—he shrugged—“I ship it. Hamish and Niall are adorable.”