Free Clockwork Tangerine by Rhys Ford Page B

you want to spend two years on the island? Do you want to dream of smelling your own flesh cooking? Because I can tell you, I don’t want that for you. I would spare you that.”
    “And I would spare you the fear of being attacked in the streets while you’re trying to make a little boy’s life better.” Marcus pushed Robin down onto the mattress and straddled his legs to keep him there. “Listen to me, love.”
    “I can’t. There’s too much danger—”
    Marcus cut him off. “Too much danger? How so? Do you know how many bachelors have their friends living with them? In my world, it’s as commonplace as having tea in the afternoon or riding with the hounds. No one will think anything of you coming to live at Westwood. And if anyone asks, I will tell them about your work and how I want there to be a safe place for you to develop those legs or that eye. This isn’t just about my loving you. It’s about redemption, Robin Harris. It’s about taking away the scorn and derision heaped upon you by people who did not know better. You were taken advantage of. My God, man, you were fourteen years old! You should have been in London and having your brilliance nurtured instead of being a scapegoat in a failed uprising.”
    “History is written by the victors,” Robin reminded him softly. “I certainly did not win in that conflict.”
    “No,” Marcus agreed, saddened by the shadows in his lover’s eyes. “But I can ensure that you will win in its aftermath. I refuse to let you go, my mad scientist. I would rather live as a Bedlamite with you than as an aristocrat with an empty soul. I told you, I know what I’m risking. And that is you. If I don’t do this―if I don’t spend my life listening to you, breathing you in… waking up next to you, then I’ve lost everything . That is what I am risking―a life without the man who makes me feel alive.”
    For as long as he lived, Marcus would remember the kiss Robin gave him in that moment of declaration. It was far from passionate. This was not a torrid meeting of tongues and a battle for dominance. Instead, they met in a light skim of their lips, a tentative touch of Robin’s tongue against the plump of Marcus’s mouth before he parted his own lips and moaned for Marcus to take him.
    The man could have meant anything by those words. To deepen the kiss. To lay Robin out on the bed and savage his body with a fierce lovemaking. Instead, Marcus took it for what his heart needed it to be: to envelop Robin into his life and make the man his.
    “Mine,” Marcus whispered in promise. “Just as I’m yours.”
    Their clothes would not survive the encounter. Marcus was sure of it. He heard something rip and then a longer tearing sound, followed by the ping of buttons striking wood. One must have hit the mechanical miniature peacock Robin had left on the side table, because a soft chiming filled the room, eventually stilling to a murmuring jangle.
    “I should move that.” Robin briefly glanced toward the complex automaton, but Marcus caught him up by the chin.
    “Really, if the peacock is what you’re focused on right now, then I’m doing a piss-poor job of seducing you, Dr. Harris.” Marcus nipped at his lover’s mouth.
    “Maybe you should increase your efforts, Viscount Westwood,” Robin teased. “Because I’m sure you can come up with another cock I’d be more interested in.”
    “I am certain I could.” Marcus nearly spilled his seed at the sight of Robin’s milky skin on the bright white sheets. “My God, Robin. Just… look at you. You’re beautiful.”
    That got a blush pinking the man’s cheeks, and it worked down over his chest, even pooling over his flat stomach for an instant before fading away. Turning, Robin reached to extinguish the light from the nearby lamp, but Marcus stopped him, grasping the man’s wrist and guiding Robin’s hand up to his mouth.
    “You’ll… see… everything,” Robin whispered hotly.
    “Exactly.” He kissed