A beautiful, amazing dork.
Remy’s warm hands dropped to Marlow’s waist and pushed up beneath the fabric of his shirt. Marlow could count on the fingers of one hand how often he’d gotten even this far with someone, before something inevitably ruined it, or he chickened out. There was nothing to interrupt them now.
Remy slid his palms up Marlow’s bare chest, feeling along the grooves of muscle, like he wanted to map every nuance of Marlow’s dips and edges. The intimacy made Marlow quiver.
“You’re trembling.”
“I-I’m, uhh, ticklish.”
“Are you?” Remy dragged his nails around Marlow’s sides to his back and started to lift the shirt up. Once it was off, Marlow removed Remy’s shirt in kind to help hide his shaking hands.
He didn’t mean to stare when Remy’s shirt hit the floor, but he’d never seen the other man bare other than in his fantasies last night.
Remy was a mural of color, all down his arms, across his chest, down to his waistline, and as high as his clavicle, likely around his back the same way. Marlow had seen hints of tattoos before, mostly if Remy’s sleeves were rolled up, but he hadn’t expected so much art.
It was only when he reached out to trace the faded shadows of a Celtic cross on Remy’s ribs that he noticed the scar tissue beneath.
Remy tugged Marlow closer and kissed him hard. He spun them, and the bed gave way as they fell onto the mattress. Marlow got lost in the feeling of Remy’s skin, the smooth ink and bubbled texture of scars. He got lost in the weight of Remy above him, in the press of his hands and slide of Remy’s tongue.
Until that tongue moved to the sensitive skin of Marlow’s neck, and a hand drifted to his waistband to undo his jeans.
He sucked in a breath. He wanted this. It felt good. It could be so good with Remy, he just didn’t usually get past this part.
His trembling got away from him, and he couldn’t stop shaking, breath heavy, eyes clenching shut to still his nerves as Remy’s hand slid inside his jeans and palmed him.
Fuck.
“You’re shaking,” Remy said but not with the same amusement as before.
“I-I told you,” Marlow stammered, forcing his eyes open. “Ticklish.”
Remy’s face was too close, reading Marlow’s every expression and thought. He removed his hand and pulled up. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing! I’m fine. It’s fine. Don’t stop.” Marlow grabbed Remy’s hand and tried to pull it back to the beginnings of pale hair on his stomach.
Remy frowned, refusing to be moved. “If you want this, then I am more than happy to oblige. If you don’t…I’m a little confused about what we’re doing here.”
“I want this! I do. I want to do this,” Marlow insisted.
“Just not with me.”
“It’s not that! It’s not you.” Marlow was ruining everything. “It’s not because it’s you. You are exactly who I want tonight. You are not the problem.”
“Then what is?” Remy refused to let up without an answer.
“I’ve just…” Marlow closed his eyes again, “…never done this before.”
“Didn’t peg you for the one-night stand type.”
“No, I…” He peeked his eyes open to find Remy smiling. He could lie. He could just lie. “I mean…” Shit, no he couldn’t. “I’ve never done this before.”
“With a man?”
“With anyone.”
Remy’s smile fell, and slowly, he pushed up into a sitting position. “Start talking. That’s not the only thing you’re hiding.”
In more of a scramble than Remy’s elegant motion, Marlow sat up next to him, side by side with his rival, Rembrandt Parker—on his bed, in his home. Marlow couldn’t have foreseen this. Coming clean about his reasons for being here was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid, but now there was no escaping it.
He took a breath and told Remy everything.
That yes, he was a virgin—a twenty-four-year-old virgin, which he knew wasn’t unheard of or anything to feel shame over, it just made so many things in his life harder.
“And please don’t make a pun about that.”
Then he told Remy about the rogue Mage. Remy was quiet through it all, his face oddly expressionless for a man usually so animated, though his countenance gradually hardened into something more like the ice he’d used on Marlow yesterday.
“Let me get this straight. Some witch is holding your magic ransom and forcing you to have sex against your will to get it back?”
“Not against my will. I mean, I chose to be here—”
“But you wouldn’t be without her involvement.” Remy rose from the bed, a menacing aura rippling off him. “Where is she? Someone needs to teach this harpy what is and isn’t allowed in my city.”
“Remy.” Marlow leapt after him, since Remy had bent down to retrieve his shirt, looking intent on seeking her out that instant. “I don’t know where she is. And even if I did, it’s fine—”
“It is not fine,” Remy snapped. He hadn’t raised his voice, but there was a fierceness in him that rattled Marlow.
The designs of the tattoos shifted in the light as his muscles rippled with tension, making the skin of the scar tissue that much more apparent.
“Some of us don’t get a choice in how fast we grow up. Those that do, own those choices. You shouldn’t have to do this until you want it.”
“But I do want it,” Marlow said. “I have wanted it. For years. I’ve just had bad luck, the wrong people, been too busy, and a million other things. But you have no idea how much I just want to be with someone.”
Marlow saw the tightness in Remy’s brow and spoke on quickly.
“And not just anyone. I was planning on picking up some stranger and just getting this over with so I could get my powers back. Then you were there, and I was so annoyed,” he admitted, which made Remy snort. “But after I stopped to think about it, about you, I felt so relieved you’d shown up.
“I know what I want. Who I want. You can be such an asshole, but you’re a good person and a good friend. I mean, look at you, ready to jump to my defense, and this doesn’t even have anything to do with you.”
“Doesn’t have…” Remy frowned. “You asked me to sleep with you without telling me the whole story.”
“I didn’t mean—” Marlow broke off when Remy made to step back and reached for his hand to stop him. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be easier if you didn’t know. But I don’t only want this because some rogue Mage is keeping my powers hostage.
“I’m nervous, and I don’t know what I’m doing, but I want this. I still want to do this. If you do? You could show me how good it can be.” Marlow dropped his eyes, feeling young and foolish as he continued, “Believe me, if teenage Marlow could have seen through a crystal ball that you could be my first time, that last decade would have gone a lot faster.”
Insecurity kept his eyes on the floor, waiting for the rejection he feared. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted this just because he wanted it—with Remy—until the chance was about to slip through his fingers. His nerves had sabotaged him, and soon Remy would pull away, tell him to hit the road, and Marlow would be back to square one—powerless, desperate, and alone.
When Remy’s hand did finally pull away, Marlow let it go, didn’t fight the disconnection, because he deserved this. He’d planned to use Remy without being honest with him, and that was far worse than being beaten in a sparring match.
He summoned the strength to back away, but warm hands stopped him, taking hold of his face and the curve of his hip.
“If you’re sure,” Remy said.
Marlow looked up, and there was softness in Remy’s expression to add to the hunger. “I’m sure! So sure! I swear!”
“I wish I’d known the truth.”
“I know, I’m sorry—”
“I would have filled that basket with a few more things.”
“Really?” Marlow perked up, searching Remy’s face, where he
found the familiar tease of a smirk.
“We’ll make do. Come here.” Remy pulled him closer and kissed him, only this time, Remy was gentler, almost tentative, feeling Marlow out in ways he hadn’t before.
Marlow reminded himself that kissing he could do. He wasn’t completely inexperienced; he was a good kisser. Remy didn’t need to treat him like glass. So, he delved in deep with his tongue and rocked his hips forward.
Remy hummed, kissing back rougher in response. The intensity and returning press of their bodies didn’t make Marlow’s stomach flip this time. Having everything out in the open made it easier—made it better.
They tumbled onto the bed again, still connected at their lips. Then Marlow’s hand brushed over a particularly large scar on Remy’s side.
“Hey, umm, what did you mean, some people grow up too fast?”
Remy stretched a corner of his mouth into a smile that wasn’t real. “Thought you were an officer, your highness. Can’t you detect?”
Marlow could. He could infer plenty from what Remy had said, from the scars, and from his anger at any possible loss of consent between them.
None of it was nice.
“Why do you think I worked twice as hard as you at the academy?”
Marlow wanted to protest that he’d worked plenty hard, too, but he couldn’t deny that Remy had always pushed himself harder and still did. “You had to. You don’t have enough magic of your own.”
“I fought for everything I ever had, starting with growing up on the streets. Imagine how fun that was without magic.” He kept his false smile, but sorrow shone clearly in his eyes. “I didn’t have the luxury of saying no.”
“I—”
“We’re here now,” he stopped Marlow from saying anything, brushing his fingers along Marlow’s cheek. “Exactly where we want to be. Right?”
“Right,” Marlow said earnestly, and let things be as Remy reclaimed his lips.
They shifted, always in contact, up the bed. The slide of Remy, even with them both still wearing jeans, felt sinfully good. Marlow trembled, but he was more controlled now, because Remy knew. Remy would take care of him and make it so good for both of them.
“By the way, what definition are we going off of here?” Remy asked between kisses as he moved to straddle Marlow’s hips.
“Huh? Oh, uh, I don’t…”
“What have you done?”
“Umm.” Marlow ducked his head. “N-not much. No orgasms with outside assistance?”
“Is that all you need?”
“To break the curse?” He looked at Remy, whose expression held no trace of mocking. “Maybe? But no, I think it’s based on what it means to me, since she was looking in my head when she cast the spell. And to me I’ve always thought more of, you know…” He held up his hands but wasn’t entirely sure what he was attempting to mimic. “Either I’d…or someone else would…”
“Marlow,” Remy said in his most chiding voice, one of the few times he’d called Marlow by his name, “if you can’t even say the words…”
“Penetration,” Marlow spit out. “Which I get is like puritanical bullshit and shouldn’t matter, and whatever works for other people is fine for them, but for me, I mean, it’s just…it’s what I always—”
“What you wanted. Then that’s what we’ll do.”
“We will?”
“You did have me get the appropriate supplies.” Remy sat back on Marlow’s thighs, resting his hands on the expanse of Marlow’s lean stomach. “Have you really never had anyone else’s hands on you?”
“Not much. Or for very long.”
Remy’s fingers started trailing downward. “Thank Nimueh for this bounty.”
Marlow laughed. “I-I’m not anything special.”
“Everything about you is special.”
“Being a Storm Mage—”
“I don’t mean being a Storm Mage, I mean you.”
“But I’m so…” dull. “I mean, my hair’s this awful…” gray and—
“Silver? What’s awful about silver?”
“You think it’s…Really? Silver?”
One hand stayed at Marlow’s waistband, but the other reached to coil around a lock of his silver hair. “With a hint of lavender like spun silk. But I guess you need to be shown how beautiful you are.”
Marlow’s eyes fluttered as Remy’s other hand slid inside the opening of his jeans and right beneath the elastic of his underwear to find skin. Words failed him as Remy’s fingers traced down his length, which was very different from touching himself.
“You like that?” Remy asked—and seriously, his voice should be illegal.
“Uh huh,” Marlow answered in a slightly higher pitch. He kept his eyes closed so he could focus on the feel of Remy’s fingers, the gentle touch and then firm grip that followed.
Marlow whimpered.
“We’ll find all the things you like.”
“Yeah. It’s not like I never touch myself, but…”
“This is better.”
“Even better than magic.”
Remy rumbled a low laugh, pausing to tug Marlow’s jeans and underwear down his hips. Then the hand returned, better than before because nothing encumbered it. Remy’s fingers encased him, slid down and up his length with a passing thumb over his slit to gather the budding wetness—needing no magical assistance—and stroked him firmly.
Sagging into the mattress, Marlow glanced at Remy sitting on the bunched jeans and underwear at his thighs, stroking his cock, and just—wow.
“Wow.”
“Feeling more relaxed?”
Marlow wet his lips and nodded.
“Where do you like to touch yourself, your highness? We’ll start there, then find all the spots you don’t know about yet.”
Marlow thought about it and lifted a hand to trail behind his ear, down his hairline to his clavicle. “Here,” he said, shuddering at his own light touch. “I’m sensitive pretty much everywhere, but this spot always makes me tingly. Is that weird?”
“There is no weird in this, Marlow, only preference.”
Hearing Remy say his name again made Marlow shiver.
Remy bent closer, his stomach dragging along Marlow’s cock as he licked a wet stripe up to Marlow’s ear and sucked on the sinew beneath. Then he blew cool air over the skin and fine hairs he’d just wet, making Marlow shiver harder.
Better than wind magic.
Remy licked the rim of Marlow’s ear and below it again, raising goosebumps in his wake until he found the perfect dip in the curve of Marlow’s jaw and bit firmly.
Marlow bucked up against Remy, and the slide of his cock against Remy’s abs felt incredible. Remy’s hands were warm and soft, with only light calluses, like he worked hard, got his hands dirty, but then always took care of them afterward. They felt so good sliding along Marlow’s skin as the Remy’s mouth and tongue worked his neck.
A thumb brushed over Marlow’s nipple and he sucked in a sharp breath at how it made his cock pulse.
“Here?” Remy asked, rubbing circles with his thumb around the nub.
“Y-yeah,” Marlow agreed, certain he was melting where he lay. “Can you, uhh…”
“Yes?”
“With your mouth?” It felt strange to ask for what he wanted, which was ridiculous; how could anyone get what they wanted if they never asked for it? Still, his cheeks felt hot, gut coiling with a surge of nerves to actually say the words.
Remy’s lips were already shiny and reddened when he pulled up from Marlow’s neck. “Absolutely.”
Marlow gasped at Remy running his tongue over the nipple and sucking and nipping with his teeth. He bucked up again, and again, and shit, Remy’s jeans had to go, and so did the binding mess of Marlow’s.
“Can you get these clothes off us?”
“Gladly.”
A new shiver raced through Marlow from the loss of heat when Remy pulled away, but it was better, so much better with his underwear and jeans removed completely. Then Remy
stood off the side of the bed to unzip his.
Marlow watched with rapt attention as Remy faced him, drawing the actions out to pull down the zipper and shimmy the jeans from his hips, pulling his underwear down with them. Some of the ink went low down Remy’s thighs.
Marlow took it all in and flushed when Remy paused to stroke himself, almost exactly how Marlow had envisioned it last night—if he’d been wearing the kilt again. Remy put all the porn Marlow had ever seen to shame, he was so beautiful. The art of the tattoos, the toned muscle giving way to just the right amount of softness.
“You can look at me like that anytime, your highness,” Remy said, backing away to give Marlow a good view, before he turned and went to the chair with the convenience store bag. “Might just render me incapable of winning next time we spar.”
“Are you giving me pointers on how to beat you?” Marlow grinned, running an absent hand down his chest within the buzz of his heightened nerves.
“Win-win for me,” Remy said, walking back to the bed with the bag and starting to unload its contents onto the nightstand, which also had a handful of MagiTalk scattered across it—and the magnetic gloves. “Business as usual, I’m likely to be the victor.”
“You think so, huh?”
“But you give me that look,” Remy cocked his head, “maybe we find other ways to pass the time.”
Marlow laughed, but his attention was soon drawn to what Remy revealed from the bag, which wasn’t anything crazy. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. The other items from Remy’s cart must have been removed downstairs, but there was some KY, basic condoms, and two Skor bars.
“Did you get one for me?”
“Caught you eyeing it.” Remy set the candy aside but readied the rest within easy reach. He climbed back onto the bed and tucked in beside Marlow. When Marlow rolled to face him, the brush of their cocks made his hips stutter. “Careful. Take your time.” Remy gripped his arms and slowed the rock of their bodies, letting them tease past each other, hot and deliberate. “No need to rush through this.”
“S-Sorry. Always felt like…like I needed to hurry to make this happen.”
The Immaculate Marlow King Page 3