Chapter Eleven
Marquis
It wasn’t the way he lay there or the seduction in his eyes that drew Marquis in. It was the hope. Naked as nature intended, there was hope on his unburdened face.
“What secrets do you ponder, my love?” Marquis hadn’t meant to say that word, Love, but he did and he meant it.
“Just wise words from an old friend.” Mads smiled and it was like a moth to a flame. Natural.
Marquis drew Mads’s face in, connecting their lips. The kiss they shared made the world spin, magic sparking between them. It should have drained Marquis, but Mads filled fast and gave back far more than he took, amplifying his mage’s power as any good familiar.
They’d known that sex was a probability on the trip.
An inevitability, really. They’d gone too long without touch.
The eighty years apart was nothing compared to the last few weeks, when they could see one another, touch and sense.
It was torture, and every familiar moment Marquis had welcomed into his heart so long ago came rushing back.
He inhaled deeply and relished Mads and his entirety. “I missed you more than life itself.”
Another kiss, this time Mads’s provocation.
The omega hadn’t been clothed from the moment they started, and Marquis regretted being unable to peel every layer of clothing off of him to worship every new stripe of skin.
As if aware of it, Marquis’s wandering fingers halted their spread over his silken thigh with a fierce grasp.
“Don’t do this if it bothers you. If—because I’ve been touched again. ”
Marquis shook his head and leaned in, lips tracing the slight curve of his ear, breath stirring up his unique and earthy scent. “They say that every twenty-eight days, your entire skin sheds. It’s been over a year. I counter that there’s not an inch of your body that anyone has touched but me.”
“And a few doctors.” Mads snorted, and Marquis nuzzled his neck ever so gently.
“But do they really count? Is their touch equal to mine?” Marquis remembered their old passion, when they were young and raw. He’d had painfully little experience before and still hadn’t after, so Mads was all Marquis knew. No omega would do.
“Your name is branded on my heart. When you were so deeply pressed into me, nobody else could reach me.” Mads arched his back, tugged at the lapels of Marquis’s jacket, and hungrily welcomed him in for a kiss to end all kisses.
There was tongue, hot and wet, sliding back and forth.
Lips plucked and slid, suction light and perfect.
And he was hard, his slender cock digging into Marquis’s thigh.
The scent of slick seemed to come from everywhere.
Even his sweat seemed to hold that sweet aroma.
Marquis pulled their mouths apart and licked along Mads’s neck.
Mads, with his previous lovers, had to perform for them.
He did all the work, which is why he loved Marquis, how he worshiped Mads, made him feel worthwhile.
Made him feel like more than a pennywitch.
Marquis loved to slide his hands along his body, smooth and fine, like ivory, rare and expensive.
Touching Mads’s skin reminded him of warm piano keys, pale and smooth, with the ability to play the most pleasing notes with only the right flex of his fingers.
At the thought, Marquis slid a hand along his side to his thigh and flexed his digits, digging the tips of them into his supple flesh.
Nothing else would do but to breathe him in, his general fragrance so different, but the essence of him the same, familiar in a critical way that made his body react accordingly.
Erections had happened in the time they’d been apart. Sex, albeit infrequently, had occurred. Doris had been a patient lover but not a passionate one. And Marquis hadn’t been passionate with her, either. They’d been codependent.
He and Mads? They were obsessed with one another.
Pathologically attached, as close to one another by soul and spirit as an addict was to wish.
He shrugged off his jacket, letting his shirt fall behind it.
Marquis might have popped a button trying to wrench it untucked from his pants. “How do we do this, my love?”
“Messily.” Mads kicked his feet, hooking a toe in Marquis’s waistband. Marquis tore away for long enough to unbuckle his belt and fought his way from the constrictive wool. “As fine as I remembered.”
Marquis nearly preened at the compliment to his clothing, but halted when Mads’s firm grip cupped and circled his cock. Marquis shuddered as it kicked, blood surging with a near tingle. “I can say the same of yourself.”
Mads scoffed. He always did. For such a conceited creature on the outside, he didn’t believe it. He used his body as a tool until Marquis had no use for tools. Only a partner.
With a stroke of his hand, Marquis brought Mads’s leg up against his, bending his knee up. His kisses went south, over his soft chest, his slender belly, tongue making a detour around his navel. “I missed this.” The whisper cracked in Marquis’s throat.
“I missed you.” Mads arched his back and stifled a pitiable noise.
“That goes without saying. But I did miss you. I missed waking up with you staring at me from across the pillows. I missed how cold your hands get and how you sought my body for warmth. I missed the sound of your voice, the little tantrums, and how such small things made you so joyful.” Marquis nuzzled down to brush his lips through the sparse thatch of silvery ha—he’d not paid attention, but Mads was bare.
“What’s this?” Marquis pulled his head back and brushed fingers over Mads’s groin, tracing fingers over smooth, pale flesh, absent of his pale hair.
“It’s the current fashion, I was told.” Mads spread his legs, putting his bare expanse on display. It did make his cock seem bigger, but Marquis paid the appendage no heed in that regards. It was merely a way to provide more pleasure to his mate.
“I adore your body with or without your hair. If it’s any pain or inconvenience, I wouldn’t put that upon you.” Marquis couldn’t help brushing his fingers over the smooth skin. “I loved your hair, too.”
“And if it never comes back?” The question came from Mads’s lips, voice stilted and weak.
Baron had a preference for his men without hair. He’d bragged about it, and of course he’d have done something to keep it from coming back. He’d left a permanent mark. Marquis brushed his fingers over the smooth surface. “Then I cannot complain. I love you as you are.”
“It doesn’t bother you?” Mads glanced down and then back up.
“Stop thinking about it.” Marquis pushed his head farther down and nuzzled along Mads’s softening cock. “No inviting others into our bed.”
Mads opened his mouth to say something that fizzled out into a whimper, mind tarried away as Marquis’s tongue did what it could.
Mads was terrible at advocating for his own pleasure, so Marquis had to take initiative.
And he did so by swallowing Mads’s cock down to the root, tongue swilling along the underside.
Mads swore as his body writhed, entire body wrenching tight, shuddering. “Spirits! Fuck! Mar—Marquis!”
Marquis sucked and held Mads tight, humming as the omega came, his entire body jerking in time with his heartbeat as sweet pulses caressed his tongue.
Since the Mads he knew could get overstimulated easily, Marquis relented, pulling away with a soft lap of his tongue to clean the last of the cum away.
Mads went familiarly limp, and Marquis counted the exact three and a half seconds he waited before giving a single, shuddering sigh. And after, he opened his mouth, always wanting to say something that he never did. Perhaps a thanks or a praise.
“Should we leave it at this for the night? I did bring Tolstoy and some pastries with me?” Marquis chuckled, but Mads opened a single, dark eye with a terse expression dominating his face.
“Why do you tempt me so? Can we still have pastries and Tolstoy after we fuck?” Mads pouted.
Marquis chuckled and drew his body up and over Mads’s and leaned into his ear to whisper their favorite quote from War and Peace—a book they’d never managed to finish. “‘All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love.’”
“I’m not ready for War and Peace.” Mads groaned. He always said he had this horrid feeling that the day they finished that book would be the day they were no more. The unfinished chapters time they had remaining.
“Good thing I brought The Cossacks.” Marquis nuzzled around the shell of his ear.
“Ravage me and feed me.” Mads sighed contentedly as Marquis drew his hand between Mads’s legs and slid a finger between his slick cheeks to circle his mate’s bud.
The soft, pliant hole nearly welcomed him in with a drink and slippers.
The familiar warmth and slickness were home to his body, and, perhaps too soon, Marquis moved to a second finger, rocking the digits in and out to search for his spot.
He knew he’d hit it when Mads jerked stiffly and whimpered, cock perking back to life.
“Gladly.” Marquis slid his fingers out before sliding them easily along Mads’s crease.
As he drew his fingers away, glistening with slick, he made a fluid gesture to spread it over his cock for a single stroke.
And in a breath’s time, he went from celibacy to fulfillment, sheathing his cock where it belonged the most.
Heaven.
Marquis hadn’t known such pleasure since he’d had Mads last. He believed Mads had been pregnant with Rexford the last time they’d had maritals, as it were.
The world stood still, a dozen beats of his heart thudding away before he was able to move.
Mads threw his head back, neck a beautiful and exposed canvas as his throat bobbed.
Tears welled in his eyes as he whispered in a broken rasp. “Thank you.”
There was no you’re welcome. There was no response to give, save for another thrust. Another strike of his hips, the gentle percussion of flesh to flesh gaining a satisfying pace.
Mads spread his legs wider and threw his head back, hands scrabbling for purchase.
He never did learn what to do with them when in the throes of passion.
Didn’t even tug his own cock, despite Marquis encouraging him to do so.
It was as if Mads never felt entitled to the pleasure.
It saddened Marquis to see that hadn’t changed.
So, Marquis did it for him, balancing himself on one arm and his knees, thrusting to the tune of firm strokes to Mads’s cock.
The clear stings of precum dripping onto his pale belly made Marquis’s cock kick.
He wanted to hold himself back, to keep the pleasure rolling, but his magic had other plans, rising to the surface of his skin.
The two of them had barely exchanged magic save for teasing touches since they’d come together once more.
In that moment, magic wanted Mads as much as Marquis did.
“In the eyes of the spirits, we come together, a mage and his mate, alpha and omega. What is mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine.
May our unconsummated bond solidify. May we love.
May we prosper.” Marquis tensed as his entire body sparked as if electricity lived beneath his skin.
Marquis couldn’t help himself as he grabbed for Mads’s hands.
They twined their fingers, and Marquis pressed Mads’s hands above his head, squeezing tight.
Magic flowed. It flowed and didn’t stop.
It replenished Mads and filled the well of him, echoing from the walls of his aura to bounce back and fuel Marquis to greater heights.
“What’s mine is yours, and I will give more than I take.
I will—” Mads choked, body bowing. Magic brightened his eyes, glowing in his irises.
They always looked black, but Marquis knew better.
They were blue. They were so dark of a blue, it was nearly indistinguishable from black, but when the light set in, stormy skies and midnight stars made him appear more alive than he ever had. “I—I will…”
Marquis cut his moan off in his throat to hear Mads’s proclamation. He gritted his teeth and teetered on the edge as cum shot up Mads’s belly. He cried out with a whimper. “I will live for you alone.”
As Mads’s insides pulsed, Marquis let himself fall, his orgasm crashing down like cold summer rain, a wash of relief that had him tangling arms with Mads to roll onto their sides, locked in embrace.
They laughed, because that’s what you did after sex.
The noises were always funny, the pleasure of hormones and brain chemicals gone wild. Utter relief.
“I feel like I’ve been holding that in since—” Mads sighed. “You know.”
“I’m not so sure. You tasted sweet, and I know when you’re pent up, it changes your flavor.” Marquis kissed the tip of Mads’s nose.
“Emotionally. I’ve been regularly self-abusing thinking about you and going wild for weeks.” Mads laughed. “My heat shouldn’t be that far off, so we may want to part ways for a little while. When we get back, that is.”
Marquis remembered what the doctor had said. “Is that what you wish?”
Mads scoffed. “I have dreamed of being in your bed for a heat for decades.”
“Why not, then?” Marquis didn’t press the issue.
“I dunno. It feels like… What if I get pregnant? Won’t Rex think I replaced him?” Mads sniffed anxiously and buried his forehead in Marquis’s neck.
“You have a grandson to shower love upon. He’ll see that love and know what you wanted to give him.
If you want to spend your heat with me, say so.
And I will ensure we have Rexford’s blessing.
” Marquis knew Rexford would be okay with it.
Jealousy would thrive, but Marquis’s son was anything if not practical.
“On one condition.” Mads sighed, and Marquis hummed in acknowledgement. “No more stuffy names.”
Marquis laughed. “Recruit Rexford for help in finding one.”
“Hell no. He named his child Caspian. He’s as stuffy as you. He calls the boy Caspian! Not Cas, not Casper, nothing. Caspian. He’s you made over.” Mads laughed, and the sound was the sweetest thing Marquis had ever heard.
“Deal.”