“As much as I can be, I guess.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he’s only here for another three weeks.” Marcus’s heart sank at the reminder. “Then he’s off to parts unknown to play legionnaire for a few more years.”
Liam scowled. “That’s a shame. If he’s as chill as you say he is, and he’s making you so comfortable and relaxed…”
“Yeah. Tell me about it.” Under normal circumstances, he might even have considered more, possibly. Like, date for six months plus and see if things stayed this good. But three weeks was nowhere near enough. “You know what, why don’t you and Jon come over to my place, and I’ll whip something up for lunch or dinner, and you get to meet Timur when he’s not in a crowded room full of strangers.”
“You did say you were a chef.”
“And a pretty good one.” Marcus felt the tension seep out of him as the conversation moved on to safer territory. “Though I won’t exactly do it to Le Chien Bleu’s level, but you won’t leave hungry or disappointed.”
“Sounds great. Let me know when it’s good for you.” Liam gently nudged him. “And maybe get back to your station before Timur gets upset and breaks you out.” A wink, a grin—it was clearly a joke.
“Will do.” Marcus chuckled. “Thanks. It’s a bit strange… I thought I’d signed up just for a job, but…” Was that going to sound cheesy? Probably, yeah. “I’ve been surprised how much you guys look after each other.” Definitely cheesy.
“Good staff’s still pretty hard to find, especially guys who can keep up.” Liam opened the door and let him go.
Marcus was glad to be back at his station, though he couldn’t find the customer who’d ordered the Long Island iced tea. Kieran glanced over and nodded at him. Thanks, Marcus mouthed in his direction, before a new customer waved money in his face and he got back into taking orders and mixing drinks. When the first five customers were served, he looked around for Timur.
The legionnaire sat at the end of the bar, watching again. Their eyes met, and, yeah, that tingle went all the way to Marcus’s toes and tightened his balls. He gave Timur a thumbs-up and saw him relax. That helped a great deal with the rest of the evening—it was a busy shift, and he really didn’t want to get too sidetracked by worrying about Timur.
But none of that was necessary. No more altercations and nobody managed to drag Timur out on the dance floor. There was one guy who was as pretty as he was insistent, and he almost managed to sit on Timur’s lap, but Timur pushed him aside and indicated Marcus. Marcus’s heart gave a little stutter. Considering the poisonous glare from that customer, Timur must have said something interesting.
Five minutes later, there was a little lull, and Marcus slid to that side of the bar. “What did you tell him?”
“Who?”
“The guy who was in your lap.”
Timur laughed, running his hand over Marcus’s arm, right on top of the bar and in plain sight. “I told him I’m here with you.”
And there it went, that stutter in his chest again. “If you want to dance or fool around with anyone, you’re welcome to it. I don’t—”
Timur kissed him.
Still out in the open. Still in plain sight.
And maybe all his senses just checked out for a second, but he swore he felt the music skip and the whole place jolt.
Drawing back, Timur said, “I can wait.”
I can’t.
Marcus gulped. “Okay. I…just don’t want you to get bored.”
“Not bored.” Timur tapped his temple, and his wicked grin rivaled Kieran’s. “Just thinking.”
“Thinking? About?”
Like he needed to ask. Holy fuck.
He glanced over his shoulder and caught Liam’s gaze. The shift manager was leaning against the back wall, arms folded, and he chuckled as he rolled his eyes.
To Timur, Marcus said, “Be right back.”
He didn’t wait for a response and made his way over to where his boss was standing.
“Let me guess,” Liam said with a smirk. “You want to cut out early?”
“Uh, well, I was actually—”
“Go.” Liam nudged him. “It’s quieting down. I’ll fill in at your station.”
“Are you—”
“Go.”
Marcus’s jaw almost dropped. He’d just gone over to ask if Liam was still cool with Timur hanging around the club, not to see if he could cut out early. But, hey, when the boss says go…
“I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.”
“Good.” Liam smiled. “And I’ll text you sometime tomorrow about dinner. When I’ve had a chance to talk to Jon.”
“Perfect.”
And suddenly Marcus was off the clock, free for the rest of the evening, with that dirty-minded, green-eyed soldier waiting for him at the end of the bar.
Maybe it was just as well Timur was leaving in three weeks. Much more time than that, there’d be nothing left of Marcus but ashes and the faint scent of absinthe.
He joined Timur. “I’m off for the rest of the night.”
Timur’s eyebrows jumped. “Your boss?”
“He said to take the rest of the night off.” Marcus slipped his hand into Timur’s. “We’ve got a few hours before either of us needs to sleep. How do you think we should spend them?”
“I know.” Timur made an after-you gesture.
Chapter Ten
They just made it into Marcus’s place before he couldn’t wait another goddamned second. He grabbed on to Timur’s shirt, shoved the big soldier up against the wall and kissed him.
Timur didn’t resist. He gave a little grunt of surprise but didn’t protest at all. He tugged Marcus’s shirt free from his trousers and tried to unfasten the clasp on the cummerbund but struggled.
Still kissing him, still grinding against him, Marcus reached back and unsnapped the clasp with ease. Timur made a low near-growl sound, as if to say thank God, and tossed the cummerbund aside.
They tore at each other’s clothes. Taking off Timur’s T-shirt was more complicated than it needed to be. The buttons on Marcus’s tux shirt? A royal pain in the ass. But finally, they were both shirtless, hot skin pressed against hot skin as they made out beside the door.
Marcus was dizzy. Shaking. Losing his fucking mind. He hadn’t realized just how horny he was after spending almost an entire shift with Timur in the same room. Now that he had him? Shit. He could barely see straight.
Timur pushed him back a step, then led him toward the couch. Before Marcus knew what was happening, he was on his back with Timur on top of him, and…Jesus, if he was any more turned on, they’d need the fire department.
Between the two of them, they managed to get Marcus’s trousers undone and partially down. Then Timur’s. Marcus didn’t know if he wanted to stroke Timur, suck his dick, fuck him, be fucked by him. The more clothes they pushed out of the way, the less he had a damned clue what he wanted beyond Timur. And he had Timur. He just didn’t know what the fuck to do with him tonight.
Timur didn’t have quite so much difficulty. He pinned Marcus down and thrust against him as if he were fucking him. Marcus tried to move his hips to complement what Timur was doing, but he couldn’t think coherently enough, so he just let Timur take over. He lay back, held on to Timur’s huge arms and completely surrendered. Much more of this, they’d need the fire department, paramedics, SWAT, Navy SEALs…
The thought nearly made him laugh, but right then, Timur nipped his earlobe, and all that escaped was a delirious moan.
“Oh God.” Marcus gripped Timur’s arms tighter. “Oh God…”
Timur groaned and thrust a little harder, and Marcus didn’t even try to hold back. His orgasm took over, turning the world around him white and forcing sounds from his lips that he’d never even heard before. And Timur… He just didn
’t stop. He kept thrusting his cock, now slick with Marcus’s semen, until Marcus managed to murmur, “S-stop. Can’t…”
This time, Timur did stop. “You’re all right?”
Marcus laughed, sounding drunk as he did. “Oh yeah. Just sensitive.”
“Good.”
“I want…need to get you off.” Marcus licked his lips. “As soon as I can move.”
“No move.” Timur lifted himself up. “Just sit.” He gestured for Marcus to sit up. It was a struggle, but Marcus obeyed, and as soon as he did, Timur grabbed his hair and pushed his cock between Marcus’s lips. He was forceful but controlled, fucking Marcus’s mouth without choking him. If Marcus hadn’t already come himself, he’d have been well on his way now—this type of controlled aggression was his catnip. A man who knew what he wanted, took what he wanted, but was never overbearing or inconsiderate about it.
Timur’s dick seemed to get even harder as it slid back and forth along Marcus’s tongue. He was getting damned close, so Marcus gave him everything he had—squeezing with his lips, teasing with his tongue. He was rewarded with a low, throaty groan. Timur’s fingers twitched in Marcus’s hair. He gasped. Swore in God knew what language. Moaned. His thrusts became deeper, more erratic—Marcus had goose bumps just from feeling and listening to Timur unravel with every stroke.
Somehow, Timur had the presence of mind to pull back a bit a second before he came, and his semen shot across Marcus’s tongue instead of into the back of his throat. Marcus swallowed eagerly as Timur gripped his hair painfully tight and released a spine-tingling roar.
Timur let him go, and Marcus dropped back onto the couch. He just lay there for a moment, half-dressed, completely disheveled, with his own semen on his bare chest and abs as he wiped his mouth with the back of a shaking hand.
Timur sat on the edge of the cushion beside him, panting and trembling. “You’re all right?”
“Yeah.” Marcus closed his eyes and exhaled, then gazed up at Timur. “Is good.”
They eventually pried themselves off each other and, after a longer-than-necessary shower, collapsed into Marcus’s bed.
Now that the dust was settling, reality started closing in again. Everything that had happened at Wilde’s seemed far away, but as he lay beside Timur beneath a thin sheet, Marcus couldn’t help realizing it had only been, what, a couple of hours? It was weird to think that had happened so close to this.
And it was unsettling. Timur was subdued and calm now, almost drifting off next to Marcus—a million miles from the man who’d been ready to rip a belligerent drunk to pieces. Liam’s concerns echoed in the back of Marcus’s mind, but they didn’t make sense now. Words like possessive and dangerous didn’t even belong in the same dimension as Timur.
Of course, it was easy to look at a new guy through rose-colored glasses. He couldn’t possibly be controlling. He couldn’t possibly get violent. Him? No way! That seemed woefully naïve, especially since Timur was bigger and stronger than Marcus by a long shot. A trained soldier too.
But Marcus didn’t feel even a little bit unsafe with him.
And Timur hadn’t objected when that guy on the tour flirted with him. He’d noticed. He wasn’t stupid—he might not have understood all the words, but that kind of blatant flirtation would’ve been obvious to a Martian.
“You’re thinking.”
Marcus turned his head. Timur’s short, terse observations—which probably wouldn’t have been much more complex if he were speaking in his native tongue—were strangely endearing. “I am, yes.”
Timur’s eyebrows rose a little, but he didn’t press.
As long as he’d opened the door, though, they might as well talk.
Marcus turned on his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “I’m curious about something.”
“All right.”
Marcus hesitated, not sure how to say it without making an accusation or coming across all wrong thanks to the language barrier. “Tonight, at the club, that guy who threw the drink…” He paused, studying Timur’s expression, searching for a flare of anger.
Timur shrugged. “He was idiot. Too much to drink.”
Marcus laughed. “Yeah, he was.” Turning serious, he met Timur’s eyes again. “When you stepped in, was that because…” Shit. How to word it?
“He had no control,” Timur said flatly.
“No kidding. But…what about you?”
Timur’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“Were you in control?” Marcus paused. “I guess what I want to know is, what would have happened if I hadn’t asked you to back down?”
Timur’s eyes lost focus for a moment. Then he shrugged. “What needed to be done was done.”
“Meaning?”
Another shrug. “He stopped. I stopped.”
That was true—though Timur had been angry, he had stopped when the drunk did. Marcus had witnessed plenty of bar fights, and most other guys would’ve broken off a bottle or bloodied someone’s nose by the time Marcus had stepped in. But not Timur. He’d still been angry, still ready to snap the drunk in half if need be, but he wouldn’t beat him to a pulp just for the hell of it
“Why do you ask?” Timur lifted himself up on his arm and held Marcus’s gaze. “Was it wrong? What I did?” His eyes were wide as if he genuinely had no idea if he’d misstepped in the bar.
“No, not at all.” Marcus reached for Timur’s face and ran his fingertips along the man’s sharp, lightly stubbled jaw. “My boss was concerned. Not for the drunk idiot’s safety.” He swallowed. “For mine.”
Timur’s eyes could not possibly have gotten any bigger. He gently took Marcus’s hand, dwarfing it with his own. “Yours? I don’t understand.” The undercurrent of panic in his voice made Marcus’s stomach flutter.
“Liam’s ex-partner was abusive. Beat the shit out of him.”
“Bastard,” Timur growled.
“Seriously. And I guess that guy started out being…protective.”
“Is protective bad?” Timur cocked his head. “The man might’ve hurt someone.”
Marcus felt oddly relieved that Timur said “someone” rather than “you”. Maybe that meant that in the moment, Timur’s focus had been on defusing the situation and preventing anyone from getting hurt, rather than keeping the dumbfuck away from his man.
“No, it’s not bad. It’s good. It’s just…complicated.”
“How?”
“Well, it’s easy to go from protecting someone from actual danger to, well, treating them like a possession. Owning them.”
Timur blinked as if he hadn’t understood a single word Marcus said.
“It’s tough to explain. Some guys start out protecting their—” He caught himself before the word boyfriend slipped off his tongue. “They protect someone they’re with, and that can turn into…” He shook his head. “Like I said, tough to explain.”
“Protect you from drunk guy, then do same thing to you?”
“Something like that, yes. So Liam was just asking me if I felt safe with you.”
Timur studied him. “Are you safe?”
It was an odd way to word it—if Timur’s English had been better, Marcus’s response would’ve been “I don’t know, you tell me”. But he was starting to understand what Timur meant when the words didn’t quite line up. He could read Timur well enough now, even after this brief time together, to know that the question really meant do you feel safe with me?
And, goddammit, the answer should’ve been I don’t know. Or it’s too early to tell. Or it doesn’t matter because you’ll be gone soon, so I’ll take my chances.
But Marcus brought Timur’s fingers up to his lips, kissed them gently and replied, “Yes. I’m safe.”
And he did feel safe. More than he should have with any guy who he knew wasn’t going to stick around. Which meant he was g
etting in way too deep.
He was in way over his head, but he pulled Timur into a deep kiss and didn’t let himself give a damn about how dangerous this really was.
Chapter Eleven
Jon and Liam arrived at Marcus’s apartment at a little past five. Marcus knew Liam as well as anyone could know his boss after just a few months of working together, and he’d met Jon a few times, but as he brought them in and introduced them to Timur, he realized just how well he didn’t know either of them. Not that they were strangers or people he was uncomfortable having over, but as he showed them around the apartment and exchanged small talk, it occurred to him how different his life was less than a year ago. The social circle he’d had back then was as good as gone—they’d all been Ray’s friends more than his, and didn’t talk to him much now. The familiar house in Medina was a distant memory. And the husband, well…
Marcus’s gaze drifted toward Timur. It certainly wasn’t all bad, this massive shift in his world. Just…different. Like he was an actor in a sitcom and had suddenly been transported to another show altogether—same guy, same face, same little quirks and mannerisms, entirely different world populated by people who had no clue the previous one had ever existed.
“Marcus?” Liam’s voice startled him.
He looked around and realized all three of the men were staring at him. Timur seemed a bit puzzled but also amused. Jon may as well have had a giant question mark hanging above his head. And Liam was definitely concerned. And amused. Fucker.
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I was just thinking about what I’m cooking. Couldn’t remember if I bought enough tuna for four.”
“Is plenty,” Timur remarked. “Enough to feed entire army.”
Jon laughed. “Well, if your cooking is as good as Liam insists it is, we’ll be happy to take any leftovers off your hands.”
Marcus glanced at Liam. “You’ve never had my cooking.”
Liam shrugged. “No, but I’ve seen your résumé, and people who burn mac and cheese don’t get jobs at those places.” He nodded toward Timur. “That, and you have at least one devoted culinary fan.”
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