Marcelo, present day
Marcelo’s head swiveled keeping up with the conversation around the table. Political conversations were shelved for the family meal. It was their time to put worries aside and enjoy each other’s company.
Merewina apparently couldn’t help herself and reverted to treating Marcelo like the best chums they’d been just yesterday. Marcelo had returned her heartfelt embrace when he and Efren first entered the dining hall.
No one had batted an eye when Efren had held out Marcelo’s chair for him. Nor had feathers been ruffled when Efren had planted the lightest of kisses to the corner of his mouth before sitting.
He felt more alive, his blood virtually dancing through his veins, than in any time he could remember as he blushed and laughed at Bridget’s gentle good-natured ribbing about the baby’s “explosion.” That was a supper table topic of conversation he never would have experienced in Sheburat.
But enough of Sheburat. That was yesterday. Today, tomorrow, and evermore into the future, he would embrace living his life as the people of Zioneven did.
He tightened his jaw and gave himself a mental nod. He would cease to compare this to his old life, else he would forever be second-guessing himself, wondering if a behavior was “truly” proper. It was proper here in the cheery land where he now lived, and that was all that mattered.
After supper, they retired to a large drawing room for card games, music, and more conversation, this time including extended family members and foreign dignitaries who resided in suites in the castle’s large wings.
Fortunately, Marcelo’s education included abbreviated histories of prominent nobles and dignitaries from the other realms, so he only needed to put faces to the names he already knew. He was introduced to those who’d been missed earlier in the day. Lively as the gathering was, Marcelo drifted through the evening in a fog.
Efren was ever-present at his side, a warm hand at the small of his back whenever Marcelo wasn’t holding his arm. Deliberately—Marcelo was fairly certain—and repeatedly flexing his arm muscles because the action never failed to elicit a light gasp, or at least a quirk to Marcelo’s lips.
Marcelo smirked and murmured, “She claims we’re best chums, but I can’t help wondering where Merewina is with her sticky bun projectiles when I need her.”
“Oh, dear.” Efren affected mock concern. “Am I being ‘utterly merciless’ again?”
Marcelo snickered. “Who, you? I’m sure you would never dream of it.”
“Never.” He lowered his voice. “Although, it is a rather ‘glorious evening,’ wouldn’t you say?”
Marcelo’s flush surely went all the way to his toes as his lips curled up. “You did give me your word that it would be.”
“And I’m a man of my word.” Efren punctuated his sentence with another flex of the arm Marcelo was holding.
“Honestly, Efren!” They both jumped at Merewina’s words, behind them. “Before today, I never knew you could be such a merciless tease.” Looking at Marcelo, she added, “As I said, you two were always lovey-dovey, but this level of him teasing you is new unless he kept it behind closed doors.” To Efren she said, “For pity’s sake, take him upstairs already.”
Then she turned on her heal as Marcelo gaped. She glided over to Tristan with a wide, innocent smile adorning her face.
“Well,” Efren said. “I can’t say I always agree with her advice, but it is rather sound tonight.”
Marcelo swallowed. “Yes, now I can see why we are best chums.”
They took a quick turn around the room to say “goodnight.” Marcelo’s cheeks flushed, but he kept his chin up in the face of all the arch looks and grins. Efren, the big tease, wore the widest knowing grin of them all.
Marcelo’s reticent nature quailed and reveled in equal measures in this unfamiliar less-restrained atmosphere. Perhaps his reserve was more a cultivated habit than part of his true essence?
By the time they left the room, Marcelo’s grin was as wide as Efren’s. Rather than offering his elbow, as was customary, Efren took Marcelo’s hand in his and pulled him along as they ran like schoolboys through halls and upstairs, arriving at last, out of breath but with a laugh, at the door of their own private suite.
Efren ushered him in with a flourish and led him through the sitting room to the bedchamber. Dru and Erich must have anticipated their arrival and set the scene, but it would have been at Efren’s request.
A fire roared in the fireplace. Wildflowers, candles, an unopened bottle of wine, and two wineglasses adorned a small table. Best of all, an extra-large bathtub, which could easily accommodate the two of them, had been placed in front of the fire, keeping it warm.
Bubbles with a woodsy scent floated atop the water. Extra jugs of clear water sat on the hearth. Cleaning cloths and drying towels lay folded on a chair nearby.
Marcelo’s blood dashed through his veins. “How lovely.” And romantic. Not that he could recall ever imagining what might define a romantic scene before, but this was surely what people meant by the word.
This and ill-fated but well-intended gestures like the Nutter Buzzers Efren had procured. Marcelo sighed and gazed dreamily at his romantic husband, who was watching him intently, perhaps gauging his reaction.
“I could not dream of a more glorious arrangement.”
Efren kissed his forehead. “I thought this might strike a nice balance between romance and peaceful relaxation. You are thankfully eager, my darling, but still charmingly naïve. This might help us take the intimate side of our relationship at a more comfortable pace than we would have been allowed on our wedding night.”
“Thank you, dearest. Your consideration takes my breath away.”
Marcelo trembled despite the fire’s warmth as Efren’s breath brushed along his cheek before his lips landed on Marcelo’s for a soft kiss. Marcelo parted his lips, and Efren accepted that invitation by tracing the tip of his tongue around the opening.
With a soft full-body quaver, Marcelo laced his arms around Efren’s neck lest his knees buckle and he end up in a puddle at Efren’s feet.
“Mmm.” Efren unleashed a rumbling moan that tickled Marcelo to the tips of his toes. Then he ran his fingers along Marcelo’s hair to release the thong at the end of his queue. “Come, my darling, let’s undress and enjoy this lovely bath.”
Indeed. Marcelo longed for another, more thorough look at the magnificent body he’d only glimpsed this morning. It was surely a wonder that Efren had looked at him likewise appreciatively this morning, they were so dissimilar. Attractions apparently differed as much as appearances did.
They lost no time, despite the teasing glances, cocky eyebrows, and tittering laughs, while removing their garments. Efren pulled Marcelo into his arms for a skin-on-hairy-skin embrace, sliding their arousals along each other, and taking Marcelo’s breath away.
Marcelo sighed as they settled into the heated, sudsy water. Efren behind, and Marcelo leaning against him. He lay his arms atop Efren’s more muscular arms.
Efren behaved himself remarkably—perhaps teasingly?—well. His hands meandered back and forth across Marcelo’s abdomen without drifting lower.
Yet…Marcelo told himself.
He dropped his head back to lean against Efren’s chest and shoulder. This would be all about the process getting there rather than simply the final act itself. An act which he had discovered and enjoyed on his own in the privacy of his bedchamber back in Sheburat, but had never dreamed he would share with another.
Efren seemed to be a man of experience in maximizing the pleasure of this journey, so Marcelo would not disrupt the ride. Although—he gasped and pushed gently backward when Efren landed a trail of kisses to his shoulder and pressed his arousal against Marcelo’s backside—he would absolutely follow his husband’s adept lead.
Marcelo closed his eyes, and Efren’s voice rumbled soothingly as he began a soft monologue, describing the beauties of Zioneven that they would see together once their tour was rescheduled. The words were accompanied by trailing fingers, which left Marcelo’s skin tingling wherever they roamed.
His belly, his chest, teasing circles around his nipples as Efren elaborated about colorful, charming, fragrant flower-filled meadows, lush rolling hills of green, and rich farmlands covering Zioneven’s central and southern regions. They would have passed through some of this scenery on that now-forgotten journey here.
Efren’s tantalizing fingers and gradually increasing presses and tweaks now teased Marcelo from his nipples to his bollocks as Efren fascinated him with verbal imagery of the thick green forests of towering trees and varied wildlife in Zioneven’s northwest sector.
Marcelo writhed against Efren’s strong chest as his respiration increased. He matched Efren’s grind as his husband’s hands more and more frequently gripped Marcelo’s hips to encourage the press.
The majestic mountains in the northeast, the unfamiliar sight of which had terrified Marcelo so this morning, were lovingly described last, the perfect metaphor for his rising passion as he and Efren strove together toward release.
The mesmerizing gravely notes of Efren’s voice combined beautifully with the amazingly gentle strength in the arms holding him, the chest cradling him, and the legs encircling him.
Marcelo panted unreservedly with his head thrown back, no longer making any effort to keep his reactions silent. Water sloshed as Efren’s control turned more and more erratic, but he kept one hand coaxing Marcelo’s erection, and the other directing the backward grind of Marcelo’s hips.
“Oh, my darling.” Efren’s voice was husky, but it was the rumble in his chest that intoxicated and invigorated Marcelo far better then the wine they’d neglected to open would have done.
Marcelo whimpered. “Dearest.”
“Now, my darling,” Efren panted and gave Marcelo’s erection one last slippery squeeze. “Now.”
Marcelo arched and gasped for breath as he found that glorious release they’d been striving toward. Efren ground furiously against him, finally stiffening with a soft groan, and holding Marcelo tightly to him as they undulated together.
With a final shudder, they settled their limp, spent bodies with Efren once again leaning against the back support of the tub and Marcelo bonelessly draped across his chest. What had been a roaring fire had settled into a calmer blaze, still providing warmth, but soon their water would cool.
Years ago, when Marcelo had discovered the joys of pleasuring himself, he’d never imagined the possibility that the touch of another could surpass that seemingly infinite pleasure. Efren’s touch eclipsed it.
His eyelids drooped, and his head lolled toward the center of the room. The warm blankets and soft pillows upon the bed beckoned. But the memory of their second first time together would live forever.
The heady romance, Efren’s gentle, considerate slowly progressing touch, and even the mild diversion of Efren’s spellbinding soliloquy.
“You know.” Marcelo turned his head to kiss the glistening skin over Efren’s heart. “This is the memory I will have in my mind, forevermore, whenever I gaze out our window at those magnificent mountains you just described.”
Perhaps that had been his intent. Marcelo couldn’t quite decide if Efren’s grin was more cocky or smug.