by Morgan James
Ash rolled his eyes and grumbled.
“No, they really are. The cutest,” Remy insisted. “Mostly because Niall is smitten and Hamish has no idea. Also Hamish is kind of innocent for something that’s a few hundred years old. Very adorable blushes.”
“I’m no’ ‘adorable,’” Ash said, affronted.
“Of course you are! And I’ve got legions of Zvi fans who agree with me. The most adorable.”
“They do not,” Ash protested. He tended to avoid googling himself, because he had a fair idea of what kinds of words were being used to describe him—sexy being one of the tamer ones—and didn’t want to see anything in graphic black and white. But he was fairly certain no one had ever attached adorable to his name, not when he’d been playing a werewolf with such a turbulent past as to leave him brooding and prone to violent outbursts, among other less-than-appealing attributes.
Remy laughed. He moved the book and notebook off the sofa, shifted his body, and then knee-walked the few feet across the pillows to settle astride Ash’s lap. His long legs around Ash’s hips sent his thoughts spiraling. “Don’t be so grumpy. It’s a good thing, I promise. You are the most adorable.” He pressed several fleeting kisses to Ash’s mouth and face. “You have an adorable mouth.” He kissed it again. “Cute pout too.” Kiss. “And blushes on your ridiculous cheekbones.” Kiss, kiss. “Or along your rugged, manly bearded jaw.” Kiss, kiss, kiss.
Ash gasped at the lingering lips on the edge of his jaw, below his ear—who knew that would feel so lovely?—and wrapped one hand around Remy’s head and the other around his ribs and held him close.
He turned and brought their mouths together, and for several delicious moments, neither of them said anything.
“Still think I’m adorable?” Ash panted into the moist air between their mouths.
“Excessively. You’re still hot like burning and sexy as hell too, though,” Remy said. He shimmied his hips, bumping their groins together and ending the debate for the night. Which was fine. Ash could always try dissuading Remy another day.
Chapter Eleven
ASH yawned and handed Etta another dish for the washer. Despite the restful and wonderful weekend with Remy—who still refused to concede on the adorable front—three days at work and he was tired again, probably because they’d had two dawn shootings, which meant fairly early call times in mid-June.
A knock sounded on the front door, startling Ash with a rapid tattoo that kept up, unchecked, until Ash, his eyes wide, opened it.
Remy stood on the other side, beaming. “Hey.” He bounced on his toes. “Guess what.”
“What?” Ash smiled, stepped back, and let him into the flat.
Remy bounded in. “Hi, Etta. Guess what!”
Etta dried her hands. “You’ve started taking speed?”
“Nope.” Remy pressed his lips together and continued to bounce.
His joy was infectious. “You gonna tell us?”
Remy bounced on the balls of his feet and clapped his hands together, and the words spilled out. “They liked my script. I finished it and gave it to them, and they liked it.” He did a little dance, feet shuffling and fists waving. “Janet says she wants to keep it for season two, if we get one. She wants to put my script on TV.”
“Congrats,” Etta said, smiling.
Ash nodded. “Terrific.” Unable to stop himself, he surged forward, wrapped a hand around Remy’s neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. He licked in just the way Remy liked, a dirty tease and promise. Later. “That’s amazing,” he whispered.
Remy vibrated. “Isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Ash kissed him again and swept his thumb across Remy’s cheekbone. “Fantastic news.”
“Thanks.” Remy leaned up, his turn for a kiss. “Thanks to you. Never would have finished it without your help,” he murmured.
Ash shook his head. “Not true.”
“Okay, I never would have finished it so quickly,” Remy countered and kissed him again—probably to stop any more arguments. “I definitely owe you. Hmm, maybe you’ll let me suck you?” His lips brushed Ash’s burning ears.
“Oh.” They hadn’t done that yet, but Ash wanted.
“Tonight.” Remy pulled back, tangled their fingers together, and swung their hands. “Wanna bake some cookies to celebrate?”
“Yes,” Etta said. Ash jumped.
“Er, what sort of cookie?” he recovered.
“Hmm, I was thinking peanut butter–chocolate chip if you have the ingredients.”
Etta snorted. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, Ash’s kitchen always has peanut butter and chocolate.”
Ash scowled and hoped he wasn’t actually blushing. Curse his ginger skin. “They’re sweeties I’m allowed.” Or rather, ones he could work into his diet. A square of dark chocolate was one of his favorite treats.
Remy shook his head. “Oh, honey. Peanut butter is not a sweet.”
Ash turned his frown onto Remy. “It’s full of fat. And sugars.”
“There, there.” Remy patted his arm. “Don’t worry. I’m going to make you the best peanut-butter cookies you ever had.” He strode into the kitchen. “Do you know where he hides the chocolate?”
Smiling, Etta reached up to a cupboard’s top shelf for an extra-large bag of chocolate chips from Costco.
Remy grinned. “Perfect.” He clapped his hands together. “Ash, get over here and help. Cooking-lesson time.”
“This isn’t cooking,” Ash grumbled but complied.
“I don’t care,” Remy singsonged. “Baking, cooking. We’re making cookies and celebrating my awesomeness.”
“Well, if you put it like that,” Ash said. He pressed a kiss to Remy’s forehead and then fetched the peanut butter out of the fridge.
ASH placed the candles, lit them, and looked over the table. Plates, cutlery, glasses, napkins, wine… everything was ready. He went to the kitchen to peek into the oven and check on dinner.
“I’m off,” Etta said as she marched from her bedroom to the doorway. “I won’t be back until late tonight. But I am coming back—midnight—so keep that in mind.” Her voice was stern, but she smirked and waved on her way out the door, ignoring his spluttering indignation.
As the door clicked shut behind her, he let out a sigh of relief. He felt bad about kicking her out, but she had volunteered. And she was off to a girls’ night with some new colleagues, not to hide lonely in some gym or twenty-four-hour diner. Still…. He’d make her favorite as a thank-you—waffles from scratch, like Remy had taught him.
He glanced at the timer again and then rubbed his hands over his face. The silence of the flat felt… dangerous. Too much time to think.
He turned from the table, looking for a distraction, but his brain took the opportunity to linger on life’s other stressors.
Work had been weird all week—ever since Tuesday, the day after Remy’s announcement, when Ash ran into Janet in the hallway. She’d been whispering heatedly into her phone before she spotted Ash, gave him a perfunctory, polite smile, and rushed away. Worried for her, Ash forced himself to push the incident from his mind, not wanting to pry, but then came the script incident.
Production aimed to give them scripts as soon as possible, usually Friday afternoon, but late in the day, production informed them the latest wasn’t finished. When Michael asked why, Janet admitted, somewhat tight-faced, that the higher-ups had rejected next week’s story. Not to worry, though, they would all receive their scripts via courier that weekend.
The one time a Restraint suit had nixed an episode hadn’t exactly been good news.
Ash huffed. Worry nae’er solved anay man’s woes, as Maw’d always said.
Thankfully a knock on the door kept him from wandering farther down that unhappy lane. Ash jumped and hurried to answer it.
“Hey,” Remy said. He stepped in, leaned up for a lingering kiss, and handed him a plastic container with something chocolatey-looking inside.
“Hello. What’s this?�
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“Chocolate shortbread covered in chocolate.”
Ash narrowed his eyes at Remy’s innocent face. “Ye ken I dinnae huv tae like shortbread jist ’cause I’m Scottish, aye?”
“Of course not, dear.” He patted Ash’s arm and moved into the kitchen. Then, apparently noticing the table, he stopped and stared. After a long pause, during which Ash did a lot of sweating, he asked, “Is there a special occasion I forgot about?”
Ash swallowed. “Well, you wrote your first script….” Ash had consulted Etta about the evening’s plans and asked her which of the dishes he should make. But perhaps making a fuss wasn’t the right thing? “I thought we could—hmph.”
Remy launched himself at Ash, lips-first. Ash wound his left arm around him and opened his mouth, gladly accepting the dirty snog. He wished his right hand weren’t already full, because, with Remy’s tongue stroking his own, he wanted to do nothing else but pick him up and press their bodies even closer.
Beep beep beep.
Ash jumped and remembered himself. “Dinner,” he whispered. “I have to—it’ll burn.”
“Burning. Bad,” Remy said huskily. Then he shook himself and stepped away, but his hands lingered on Ash’s chest. “I should let you…. Dinner, right?”
“Right.” Ash took a deep breath and might have gone back in for another kiss—Remy’s gaze smoldered—but the incessant beeping could not be ignored. He stepped back and whispered, “Later. Dinner first.”
Dinner was surprisingly passable, if Ash did say so himself. He’d learned so much from Remy in the kitchen, and he had fun showing off his new skills.
Remy swallowed a bite and loaded more on his fork. “This is good. Excellent chicken and roasted veggies.”
“Thanks. No’ as good as yours yet, but getting there.”
Remy smirked. “No one’s roasted veggies are as good as mine.”
Ash rolled his eyes. “Yes, darling.”
Remy sighed dreamily. “Your reluctance to believe anything I say is so charming. Definitely the reason I’m falling for you.”
Ash stilled. He went hot, then cold, then hot again. His heart beat triple time and thought about escaping his chest. He licked his lips. Falling for you. Remy was falling for him—falling in love. He cleared his throat. “And here I though’ ye were intae my werewolf past.”
“Well, that was the reason I started talking to you,” Remy conceded, “but it was your complete irreverence for me that kept me coming back, pumpkin.”
Ash shook his head and looked down at his dinner. “Well, in that case, I guess I better be doing it more often. Wouldn’t want you to get bored or decide to leave.” He looked up from under his lashes to see how Remy took his statement.
He pinked but grinned. “Good idea.”
For a moment Ash could hardly breathe for the happiness bubbling and exploding inside him. “I thought so,” he murmured, then leaned over to swipe a kiss across those pouty lips.
“I’m done eating,” Remy whispered.
“Oh?” Ash pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his cheek.
“Absolutely.” Remy pushed his plate away and kissed Ash’s nose. “Dinner is done. And who’s ready for dessert? Not me. Definitely not… me….” He landed a few more brushes of lips to Ash’s face between words.
“Yeah.” Ash ran his fingers through Remy’s hair, and Remy sighed in contentment and rubbed his head against Ash’s hand.
“Right, so… bedroom?” Remy’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared at Ash uncertainly. How could he think Ash would say no?
Ash nodded without hesitation. “Bedroom.”
They stumbled together from the dining room, clumsy with their efforts to keep touching. It wasn’t like the passionate stumble of film, but a slow, stuttering shuffle. Every few steps, they stalled out, too focused on touching to think about walking. Sometimes they stopped to remove some clothes, but mostly they got distracted by their need to touch, caressing for the joy of it.
It was far from Remy’s first visit to Ash’s bedroom, and yet… something about it felt brand-new, different.
Over the past two weeks, they’d stumbled their way through teen stuff—the sort of things most people did in dorm rooms—but they’d mostly kept their clothes on, even last Wednesday, after they baked cookies, when Remy sidled down the bed and promised he wasn’t expecting Ash to reciprocate, but could he please suck his cock? Or after, when Ash wrapped his hand around Remy’s bare flesh and stroked until Remy came all over Ash’s T-shirt.
But somehow Ash knew that tonight everything would come off, all barriers would be removed.
He skimmed his hands up Remy’s body and dragged his shirt up, off, and away. Remy was warm and soft under his hands, his skin smooth but for the sparse hair across his chest.
Remy made quick work of the buttons on Ash’s shirt, then followed his hands with his lips and lay kisses along the way. Ash watched his slow progress downward and gasped, overcome by the sight of Remy’s lips on his skin, the contrast of their coloring—Remy already summer tanned in this wet June, and Ash winter pale. His knees trembled. He placed his hands on Remy’s head—to touch, to ground himself, not to push or guide. Remy looked up at him, smirked, and pressed a kiss to Ash’s belly. Then he stood and pushed the shirt off Ash’s shoulders.
Ash didn’t watch it flutter to the floor, too busy staring at Remy’s big beautiful eyes and wondering what he planned next.
They wiggled out of their jeans, and Remy giggled as Ash untangled his from his feet—skinny jeans made his ass and thighs look amazing, but they weren’t easy to take off—and then they settled on the bed, still in their underwear.
They curled on their sides, facing each other, bare legs brushing. It wasn’t a new sensation, but this time felt different. They’d cuddled up before, but always for sleeping or frotting, never as a prelude to more.
They snogged until Ash’s mouth bruised and Remy was pink from Ash’s beard.
“What,” Remy gasped, “do you want to do?”
“Everything.”
Remy chuckled, low and throaty. “What about—can I ride you?”
Ash groaned and tightened his grip on Remy’s hips. “Ye—d’ye want tae?”
“Yes,” Remy breathed. “I’ve been thinking about it, dreaming about it.” He ran a hand through Ash’s hair and smirked. “Fantasized about it for years, to be honest. I used to imagine it, back before I met you, when jerking off with my favorite toy.” Ash made a choked noise and pulled Remy closer. Their hips collided deliciously. “Felt guilty about it after last year… less so after meeting you again.” He grinned, arched his back, and rubbed their groins together. “Definitely no bad feelings about it in the past few weeks. Ever since—I’ve been dreaming about it.”
A very unmanly noise burst out of Ash’s throat, and he lunged forward for a sloppy kiss. He couldn’t imagine Remy with a-a sex toy… or well, he could, all too vividly.
“So, do you want to?” Remy gasped.
“Aye.”
Remy gave that low husky laugh again, and heat curled in Ash’s belly.
It felt… easy then. Not that everything went smoothly—Ash dropped the lube and nearly fell out of bed trying to grab it, and Remy almost kneed him in the balls at one point, which resulted in more giggles—but the blunders didn’t make him self-conscious. In a funny way, they made everything feel more real.
Remy led and Ash followed. He straddled Ash’s hips and covered his fingers in lube and worked them in, stretching himself.
Ash rested his hands on Remy’s thighs and watched him, transfixed. He’d thought about it, sure, but he hadn’t known….
“Fuuuck,” Remy sighed, apparently pleased with the angle. “I’m, I’m ready. Get—where’s the condom?”
Right, condom. Ash found the packet in the drawer—the first in a new box, purchased the other day in anticipation, the first he’d ever bought.
He fumbled with the foil, struggled to open it, and then hesitated. T
hose lessons as a teen when he’d rolled one onto a banana had been a long time ago.
Remy huffed a laugh. “The look on your face.” He leaned forward and kissed Ash on the mouth. “So confused. I’ve never seen a man look so lost by a glove before.” He slipped it from Ash’s fingers and reached down to roll it on. Ash grunted and gritted his teeth, for a moment sure he’d come from the sensation of Remy brushing the latex down his length, but it was nothing compared to how it felt when Remy raised himself to his knees, positioned Ash, and slowly sank onto him. Nor could anything compare to the sight of Remy with his head tossed back, his mouth open, his eyes shut, as he gasped, sighed, and moaned all the way down.
Ash panted and stared. His mind blanked. His grip on Remy’s hips went lax. The feeling of tight and hot around him and the vision of Remy above him were all he could take in, all he could process. He gaped.
When Remy was all the way down, he settled on Ash’s hips, petted his chest, and breathed deep. “Hey,” he sighed, smiling.
Ash swallowed and rasped, “’Lo.”
Remy chuckled—and that felt weird… but good. Then he bent down for a kiss, which Ash returned eagerly. He leaned up into it and pressed his tongue forward.
When Remy pulled back to sit up, Ash tried to follow, lifting his head and shoulders off the bed before he realized.
Grinning and panting, Remy sat back, winked at Ash, then lifted his hips.
Ash swore.
Then, when Remy was almost all the way off, he got even tighter and slowly pressed all the way back down. Ash went cross-eyed.
“Jee-sus,” he breathed.
“Nope. Just me,” Remy said with a smirk, like it wasn’t the lamest joke ever. And Ash loved him.
Heart thumping, Ash rolled his eyes and tightened his fingers around Remy’s hips, but it was a suggestion, not a command. He didn’t push.
Remy smiled at him, all confidence, then rose once more. Ash held on. Soon Remy worked himself in a steady rhythm, alternating the angle of his hips until he found one which forced the most amazing moans out of his slack mouth.
