Free Clockwork Tangerine by Rhys Ford

with Marcus, Robin knew he’d found the one man he could bet his life on and Marcus would be there. They’d spent hours on Marcus’s estate, wandering through the hills so Robin could explore the rocky outcroppings for certain minerals, while Marcus strolled behind, willingly carting cracked stones Robin tossed into a basket.
    A basket that previously had been filled with picnic foods they’d shared by a small creek and splashed in like children before shaking themselves off in the afternoon sun.
    “Yes,” Robin repeated. “I trust you.”
    “Good, because I need to do something. Something I should have done a long time ago.” Marcus set his cigarillo down on a pot metal Chinese dragon dish he’d found during one of their meanderings at the local bazaar. Turning around, he reached for Robin and slid his broad hand under Robin’s hair to cup the back of his head. “Come here.”
    Marcus’s touch was a familiar one by now, but the feel of the man’s work-roughened fingers against his scalp brought life to Robin’s cock. His skin tingled, much as if he had licked a current or spelled an arcane node wrong. Marcus’s hand guided him closer, and Robin leaned in, perplexed at what the man was intending, but when Marcus slid over the davenport’s cushions, Robin nearly pulled back in surprise.
    Then he gasped with shock when Marcus’s mouth touched his and the man’s lips stole the breath from his body.
    The tang of cherry and light wood lingered on Marcus’s tongue, a strong perfume of tobacco that bled away to a more intriguing dusky taste of man . To be specific, a single man… one Robin often pondered over and fantasized about tasting.
    It was much better than he’d ever imagined, and Robin now knew he could die happy with the flavors of Marcus Stenhill in his memories.
    Marcus pressed in, pulling Robin into his arms before leaning them both back onto the davenport’s arm. The heavier man’s weight spread over Robin’s legs and chest, distributed carefully so as not to crush, but Robin still felt the heft of him along his body. It felt as wonderful as Marcus’s mouth.
    The mouth that continued to explore his own until he whimpered from lack of air. Their lips parted briefly… long for Robin’s liking, but it was enough for him to exhale and breathe before Marcus descended again, his hands clenched in the strands of Robin’s black mane as they skillfully guided Robin into a deeper kiss.
    If his breath was stolen by the first one, the second clearly abducted his reason, because Robin’s world became a speck of cushion and the length of hard muscle, sinew, and bone lying on top of him. His hands couldn’t find enough of a purchase on the man holding him down. There didn’t seem to be one spot he could stop and say this was perfect, because in a few inches, another area lured him in. The breadth of Marcus’s shoulders begged to be explored, and the line of his throat needed to be licked, but he only had his fingers, as his mouth was still enraptured by the viscount who’d rescued him.
    Then Marcus pulled away, just enough to stare down at Robin’s besotted face, and he was left gasping again, gulping at the blend of tobacco and Marcus left behind on his ravaged lips.
    “Do you still trust me, little crow?” Marcus whispered. “And will you let me give you more?”

Six
     
    T HEY BARELY made it upstairs. It was a near thing. Between dodging a wide-eyed maid carrying towels into Marcus’s room and accidentally frightening Robin’s hairless gargoyle of a cat when they came in, Marcus thought he’d die from anticipation before the first button on Robin’s shirt was popped from its prison.
    The cat screamed her displeasure, probably calling down the fury of all cat gods on their heads, but she slipped out of the room in a high temper, and Marcus kicked the door shut behind them.
    He’d slammed it hard enough to rattle the glazed glass windows, but he kept Robin busy enough the man didn’t notice