Free Clockwork Tangerine by Rhys Ford Page A

the noise. Marcus’s hands were hot from running over Robin’s slender torso, and he could taste the brandy on Robin’s tongue, flavored with a hint of the cigarillo smoke he’d blown into the man’s mouth.
    Beneath that was the sweetness of Robin, a blend of man, lemon soap, and a hint of arcane―a tingle of erotic strangeness he’d had no contact with until he’d met his bespectacled inventor.
    It was a taste as addicting as fine chocolate or rich coffee, and Marcus was quickly surrendering to the power of its lure―of Robin’s lure.
    And Marcus wanted to die drowning in it. In the man himself if God was willing.
    From the way Robin tore at the buttons on Marcus’s waistcoat, God wasn’t the only one who was willing.
    Marcus moved forward, backing Robin into the room. Their tongues did battle, a furious dance then a slow engagement, feeling one another out. Marcus marveled at the texture of the man’s mouth, the smooth ridges at the roof and then the silken roughness of his tongue. The sweetness of Robin’s kiss stilled suddenly when the man’s legs struck the edge of the bed and Robin’s soulful eyes flew open, startled at the sudden impact.
    “If you tell me to stop, I will,” Marcus promised, his hands poised at the ready to undo the line of buttons closing the front of Robin’s linen shirt.
    He wasn’t unaware of the horrors perpetrated on New Bedlam Island. If anything, what little he knew only fueled his imagination, and suddenly the slender, beautiful man he longed to bury himself in seemed to need more than lust and desire to stoke his arousal. Perhaps even to know that Marcus would pull away, hurting with want, if Robin couldn’t dip down deeper into their intimacy.
    But then Marcus also now feared any sexual encounter Robin might have had came at the cruel and brutal hands of uncaring men who only sought to show their dominance and slake their own desires.
    “I want you to want this, little crow.” Marcus couldn’t seem to shake off using his nickname for Robin. The man bore little resemblance to a small, twittering brown bird. He was sleek and glossy, with black as a raven’s wing hair and the sculpted strong features of a Roman emperor. “I am serious. I want you to want this. To want me….”
    “You have no idea how much I want you.” Robin’s hands stole up the inside of Marcus’s waistcoat, straining the buttons in their fastenings. “I just… don’t really know how to do… this. Everything I’ve done, the men before—they weren’t—they weren’t like you, Marcus.”
    “If I do this right, there will never be anyone for you but me.”
    It was a heavy promise, one laden with complications, but the words… the sentiment of it felt right. No matter what the next day would bring, Marcus would do everything in his power to ensure Robin’s safety and happiness.
    “You can’t say that.” The man he’d nursed back to health paled to an alarming white, and Marcus wondered if Robin was strong enough for anything other than a kiss and a tuck into his bed. “What we’re doing here… it has to be kept secret. I’m branded as a sodomite. Even your visiting me—staying here—puts you in danger. Your title won’t protect you from that, Marcus. You have to know that what we have… what we share… could ruin you. It could ruin your entire family.”
    “I know what I’m doing, Robin. I know what I’m risking.” He sat Robin down on the bed, studiously examining a button at the man’s collar he longed to undo. Marcus knew what awaited him under the shirt’s fabric. He’d seen enough of Robin’s delectably naked body while he’d been in recovery, but the time they’d spent together had added a bit more muscle and flesh onto the man’s slender form, and Marcus ached to explore every inch of skin he could.
    “You know but you persist in this?” Robin put his hands over Marcus’s to hold him still but stopped short of removing Marcus’s hands from his body. “Do