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onemuseleftAnimorphs fic, which I haven't posted in a while. Jake/Marco, Rated R.
Kat's birthday is this week and she asked for fic where "after they're married, where someone is rude to jake, so marco goes outside to blow up their uberly expensive car."
I was happy to oblige.
Wedding Gifts
The explosion shook the building and blew out most of the restaurants windows. Jake frowned at a piece of safety glass in his wine glass and made a scathing comment about the reliability of bomb-sniffing dogs.
Marco, who had been leaning forward in his chair with his chin resting on his folded hands for the last fifteen minutes in a failed attempt to hide his self-satisfied expression, smirked.
The rest of the restaurant was full of shouts as dinner guests pushed and shoved to get away from the windows, and Secret Service pushed and shoved to get outside. The hosts of the evening were shouting as loudly as anyone, three ex-presidents, the current vice-president, a handful of senators and about a dozen other war-heroes. Jake knew most of them personally, and even liked a couple of them. He was not surprised to see the young senator from Arkansas was pale and shaking and hiding underneath his table. Jake was amused, however. Judging by the looks on the faces of the two generals he'd been sitting with, they didn't find his obvious cowardice quite so entertaining.
No further explosions followed, however, and eventually everyone calmed down a little. The shouting stopped, and people began to talk into their cell phones, exclaiming to loved ones or friends or lawyers about the excitement.
Jake's cellphone rang exactly three minutes after the explosion. He'd checked it surreptitiously, noted Rachel's number, and flipped it open long enough to say "We're fine. Nothing serious. I'll call you back."
He flipped the cell shut again and caught Marco's eye across the table. If he hadn't answered it, they both knew, Rachel would have had a local UNSC Guard team in there in less than twenty minutes, and would have arrived herself with Jake's team in less than an hour. While the thought of letting Rachel march in and demand jurisdiction was entertaining, Jake didn't feel like doing quite that much paperwork that evening. He had other plans for after dinner. He was, after all, a newlywed.
Jake fished the glass out of his wine and eyed it thoughtfully before taking a sip. If his intestines got torn up by broken glass, he could just morph. And it was good wine.
"Dare I ask," Jake said quietly, watching Marco's face over the rim of his glass, "what exactly you were up to on your seventeen-minute long bathroom break?"
Marco raised his eyebrows in a believable expression of surprise. "You were timing me?"
"You had that look on your face," Jake said.
"What look?"
"The look that means I need to start documenting our whereabouts and arrange for an alibi." Jake held out his wine glass to Marco. "It's an excellent vintage."
Marco's eyes flared slightly as he let Jake hold the glass to his lips. "I resent the implication that I can't disguise my intentions better than that."
Jake let himself smile lazily, noting the way Marco leaned forward slightly at the slow baring of teeth. "I know you too well."
"And what, exactly," Marco asked softly, "does this "look" look like?"
"Innocence," Jake said. "Absolute innocence." He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward slightly. "Mixed with just a touch of self-satisfaction. No innocent ever looked that pleased with themselves, Marco."
Marco laughed, a soft sound that didn't reach any further than the edge of their table. "I'll have to work on that."
Jake sipped his wine again and surveyed the ruined dinner plate in front of him. "You couldn't wait till after we'd finished eating?"
Marco flashed him an innocent look, all show and white teeth. "Presumably, whoever did this wanted to make sure that everyone was still safely inside when the bomb went off."
"A terrorist with concern for individual safety?" Jake murmured. "How refreshing."
"It wasn't his safety I was worried about," Marco said flatly.
Jake grit his teeth and glanced around to make sure no one had overheard. "This individual would, one hopes, be smart enough not to speak of himself in the first person when referring to his crime." He glared across the table at his lover, who had the decency to look abashed. Jake sighed.
"Bah," Marco said lightly.
The wine really wasn't strong enough for this.
They were eventually able to leave, sooner than Jake had expected. But they were war heroes, celebrities and – most importantly - had a roomful of eyewitnesses. Apparently no one else had noticed Marco's seventeen-minute disappearance. Jake slid his hand around Marco's waist as they passed the crime scene. The young senator from Arkansas was screeching and wailing as he saw the wreckage of his Aston Martin. Marco leaned into his side and pressed a kiss against his throat. "I feel bad for him, almost," Marco said, just loud enough for the senator to hear. "That car was the only action a tight-ass like him was ever going to see."
The senator – Jake honestly couldn't remember the man's name, which was a pity. He'd have to find out so he could speak disparagingly of him at his next monthly briefing with the president – whirled around and leveled a finger at them. "Them! You should be questioning them! Those fucking fagg-"
A heavy hand clamped down on the man's shoulder before he could spit the rest of the word out and the senator winced visibly. "General! I insist!"
General O'Neill pinned the senator with a hard glare. "Do you? Ben, these men were with you the entire time. How, exactly, would they have planted a bomb in your car?"
"They could have snuck out!" Ben flailed. "They have motive! You know about the argument we had."
"Argument?" Jake said mildly. "With all due respect, Ben-" he let his tone indicate clearly that he didn't think there was any due – "it takes more than one person to have an argument. You were pretty happy talking to yourself."
Marco's amused snort is muffled in Jake's shoulder.
"Don't be ridiculous, Ben." The general met Jake's gaze briefly and gave a respectful nod. "You're speaking to two of the bravest, most courageous men in history. International heroes, Ben. Men who've done more with their lives than you ever will. Think very hard about the public opinion Ben, since God knows you won't even consider doing the right thing otherwise."
The senator turned on the general with an outraged squawk. Jake nodded back. "Is there a problem, general? Should we stick around? Do you need to question us?"
"Not at all," General O'Neill said. "Get out of here. I'm sure you two have better places to be. And congratulations, by the way."
Jake smiled his thanks and hugged Marco to his left side as they walked away, ignoring Senator Ben's outraged sputters and objections.
Their hotel was just a few blocks away, close enough that they hadn't bothered to drive. The night was comfortably cool and Marco was a pleasant warmth against his side as they walked. Jake remembered a time when they wouldn't have been comfortable walking down a city street like this; a time when what they had had been so new and so carefully guarded from the rest of the world. Jake took his hand off Marco's hip and caught Marco's hand, twining their fingers together. He rubbed his ring finger against Marco's, enjoying the soft metallic sound of their rings touching.
Marco squeezed his fingers.
The concierge met them at the door, exclaimed politely but sincerely over their safety, and escorted them to the elevator, promising to have something sent to their room to help them recover from their 'ordeal.' Jake, who'd been through far worse shocks than this just going to the grocery store, thanked him.
A room service attendant was just leaving the room as they arrived. She smiled sweetly at Jake and batted her eyes becomingly at Marco as she slipped past them. Marco leaned back to check out he1r ass, then quite obviously checked out Jake's as well. Jake laughed and caught a thick curl in his hand, tugging Marco into the room.
The lights were turned down and candles flickered throughout the room. Jake glanced at one and saw an electric tea light flickering in the delicate glass candle holder. The table was set with a silk tablecloth, which Jake's mind catalogued as a needless luxury. A bottle of champagne sat on ice, two thin flutes alongside. There were a half-dozen small serving silver serving trays, each with a different decadent dessert. Homemade chocolates on one, tiny bowls of different flavors of sorbet on another, sliced fruits and thick cream on a third. Marco caught a small engraved card in his hand and flipped it so Jake could see. 'Congratulations on your blessed union' it read in curving gold script. Jake laughed.
"I wonder how many months it'll take before everyplace we go stops treating us like newlyweds?" He plucked a sliced banana from the tray and dipped it in cream before slipping it between Marco's lips.
"Not for a while, probably," Marco said, licking a drop of cream off Jake's finger. "I don't mind. I like getting free alcohol and dessert everywhere we go."
Jake rubbed his thumb over his husband's mouth. "Let me get out of this suit."
Marco nipped the fleshy part of his thumb. "Please."
The bedroom was similarly dim and candlelit, the bed scattered with rose petals – Jake would have laughed, normally, but seriously, he'd try anything once as long as it involved Marco – and another delicate silver tray sitting on the nightstand. Jake was almost afraid to look, but it only contained a small phial of massage oil and a small bottle of bubble bath.
It occurred to Jake just how many romantic traditions were incredibly feminine. He eyed the bubble-bath thoughtfully. As long as it wasn't flower-scented.
Hands touched his back, palms flat.
Jake let Marco undress him from behind, accepting each touch, each kiss that was pressed against his back and shoulders. Nails scraped against his hips as Marco pushed his boxers down, and a gentle tug on each calf was the only communication as Marco lifted his feet to removed his shoes. Naked, he finally turned, only a little disappointed to find Marco already undressed.
"Dessert," Marco said and Jake let himself smile. Marco laughed and touched his cheek. "Chocolate," Marco said. "Champagne."
Their honeymoon hadn't been fancy. They'd rented a cabin in the Canadian woods and spent two weeks not talking to another human being. They'd spent most of those two weeks outdoors, hiking and fishing and canoeing. Swimming too, and Jake still thought of moonlit water sliding over Marco's body. They'd eaten canned vegetables and hotdogs and jerky and made love as many times as they could. They'd fucked in the warm grass behind the cabin, and beneath a forest canopy that blocked out all but the thinnest rays of sunlight and waist-deep in the lake, the cleanest, purest water Jake had ever seen. Jake didn't miss the extravagant luxuries, considering that two uninterrupted weeks together was worth a million bottles of champagne, a thousand fancy hotel rooms. But this was nice, too.
Marco was in the mood to pamper him and Jake was in the mood to let him. Marco leaned back against the couch pillows and pulled Jake down with him, held against Marco's chest. The silver trays were within arm's reach and Jake licked chocolate off Marco's fingers and kissed champagne off Marco's lips until they were both full and lazy and turned on. Jake turned to kiss Marco, swirling his tongue inside Marco's mouth and lapping at the last hint of cream. "Bath," he suggested, feeling the heat of Marco's erection against his back.
The bubble bath was unscented. Jake swallowed his laughter and concentrated on making sure he ran his soapy fingers over every inch of Marco's skin.
Marco stepped from the bath and Jake gripped his waist, holding him in place when he would have reached for a towel. "Wet," Jake said, humping slowly against Marco. "Fuck, you're gorgeous like this." He pulled Marco to the bed and pushed him down, dragging his breath in through his teeth as Marco spread himself out atop the comforter, his hair splayed across the pillows and a hand held out beckoningly.
The massage oil was also unscented. This time Jake didn't bother to hide his laughter.
They made love slowly, letting it last as long as it could. Jake took possession of Marco in a long, smooth thrust, let the heat of Marco's body seep into his own as they lay pressed together. Marco touched him everywhere he could reach, and Jake kissed him, breathed from him, for a long time before he began to move.
When Marco came, he clutched at Jake's shoulders, and gasped against his throat. "You're perfect," he said, breathless and tight. "You're mine, Jake. You're mine."
Jake rolled onto his side, pulling Marco with him so they could rest together, legs tucked together, Marco's head on his shoulder. Jake ran his fingers though Marco's hair and kissed his temple. "I love you." He shook his head and let himself laugh, finally. "You bomb-toting arsonist. Where the hell did you get an explosive anyway?"
Marco pressed closer to his side, ran his fingers down Jake's back. "It is absolutely amazing what you can do with household electronics and chemicals."
He smoothed a hand over Marco's damp curls. "If you get arrested and thrown in jail, I am sending your cellmate a sympathy letter."
Lips pressed against his shoulder. "Please. Like I'd be stupid enough to leave evidence. You should have more faith in me, you know."
Laughter bubbled up in Jake's chest, ruthlessly stamped down. "I have plenty of faith in you. You notice how I didn't even ask you if you'd done it."
Marco propped himself up, his elbow digging into Jake's side. "And that's another thing. How come whenever anything blows up, you always blame me?"
Jake quirked an eyebrow. "Name one explosion that you were not in some way, if not entirely, responsible for or involved with."
"I'm not dignifying that with an answer."
Marco grinned at him, and Jake caught his mouth, bit his bottom lip. "Because you know better than to lie to me."
"Hey!" Marco pulled back, a wounded expression on his face. "I've never - recently - like, since we got married - lied to you!"
Jake bit the side of his throat, felt Marco shudder against him. "That I know of?"
"I am so not answering that."
"Smart man," Jake said.
Marco shifted, planted one hand in the pillows beside Jake's head and braced himself above him. "You're perfect," Marco said, his voice low and intense and still – still – just a little bit angry. "You're beautiful and brave. You've given more than that petty bastard can ever imagine. He has no right to try to hurt you. I won't let you be hurt. Not by that bastard or anyone like him." Marco pressed his mouth to Jake's, and Jake was expecting a deep, bruising touch, but Marco's kiss was almost chaste. "I love you."
Jake took Marco's hand in his, brought it to his lips and kissed the ring that Marco wore. "He can't hurt me. He can say anything he wants and he can't hurt me as long as you wear this."
Marco kissed him again and this time it was deep and wet and full of promise. "They'll bury me with it, Jake."
"Just promise me you won't do it again. I won't let you go to prison, Marco. Please don't put me in a position like that."
Marco sighed, his breath warm and champagne-scented. "I won't."
"Although," Jake let a bit of humor slip into his voice as he pulled Marco down against him, "as far as declarations of love go, it's a hell of a lot less girly than bubble bath and champagne."
Marco laughed and began to move. "Don't diss the bubble bath. I have plans."
He did.
****
Kat's birthday is this week and she asked for fic where "after they're married, where someone is rude to jake, so marco goes outside to blow up their uberly expensive car."
I was happy to oblige.
Wedding Gifts
The explosion shook the building and blew out most of the restaurants windows. Jake frowned at a piece of safety glass in his wine glass and made a scathing comment about the reliability of bomb-sniffing dogs.
Marco, who had been leaning forward in his chair with his chin resting on his folded hands for the last fifteen minutes in a failed attempt to hide his self-satisfied expression, smirked.
The rest of the restaurant was full of shouts as dinner guests pushed and shoved to get away from the windows, and Secret Service pushed and shoved to get outside. The hosts of the evening were shouting as loudly as anyone, three ex-presidents, the current vice-president, a handful of senators and about a dozen other war-heroes. Jake knew most of them personally, and even liked a couple of them. He was not surprised to see the young senator from Arkansas was pale and shaking and hiding underneath his table. Jake was amused, however. Judging by the looks on the faces of the two generals he'd been sitting with, they didn't find his obvious cowardice quite so entertaining.
No further explosions followed, however, and eventually everyone calmed down a little. The shouting stopped, and people began to talk into their cell phones, exclaiming to loved ones or friends or lawyers about the excitement.
Jake's cellphone rang exactly three minutes after the explosion. He'd checked it surreptitiously, noted Rachel's number, and flipped it open long enough to say "We're fine. Nothing serious. I'll call you back."
He flipped the cell shut again and caught Marco's eye across the table. If he hadn't answered it, they both knew, Rachel would have had a local UNSC Guard team in there in less than twenty minutes, and would have arrived herself with Jake's team in less than an hour. While the thought of letting Rachel march in and demand jurisdiction was entertaining, Jake didn't feel like doing quite that much paperwork that evening. He had other plans for after dinner. He was, after all, a newlywed.
Jake fished the glass out of his wine and eyed it thoughtfully before taking a sip. If his intestines got torn up by broken glass, he could just morph. And it was good wine.
"Dare I ask," Jake said quietly, watching Marco's face over the rim of his glass, "what exactly you were up to on your seventeen-minute long bathroom break?"
Marco raised his eyebrows in a believable expression of surprise. "You were timing me?"
"You had that look on your face," Jake said.
"What look?"
"The look that means I need to start documenting our whereabouts and arrange for an alibi." Jake held out his wine glass to Marco. "It's an excellent vintage."
Marco's eyes flared slightly as he let Jake hold the glass to his lips. "I resent the implication that I can't disguise my intentions better than that."
Jake let himself smile lazily, noting the way Marco leaned forward slightly at the slow baring of teeth. "I know you too well."
"And what, exactly," Marco asked softly, "does this "look" look like?"
"Innocence," Jake said. "Absolute innocence." He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward slightly. "Mixed with just a touch of self-satisfaction. No innocent ever looked that pleased with themselves, Marco."
Marco laughed, a soft sound that didn't reach any further than the edge of their table. "I'll have to work on that."
Jake sipped his wine again and surveyed the ruined dinner plate in front of him. "You couldn't wait till after we'd finished eating?"
Marco flashed him an innocent look, all show and white teeth. "Presumably, whoever did this wanted to make sure that everyone was still safely inside when the bomb went off."
"A terrorist with concern for individual safety?" Jake murmured. "How refreshing."
"It wasn't his safety I was worried about," Marco said flatly.
Jake grit his teeth and glanced around to make sure no one had overheard. "This individual would, one hopes, be smart enough not to speak of himself in the first person when referring to his crime." He glared across the table at his lover, who had the decency to look abashed. Jake sighed.
"Bah," Marco said lightly.
The wine really wasn't strong enough for this.
They were eventually able to leave, sooner than Jake had expected. But they were war heroes, celebrities and – most importantly - had a roomful of eyewitnesses. Apparently no one else had noticed Marco's seventeen-minute disappearance. Jake slid his hand around Marco's waist as they passed the crime scene. The young senator from Arkansas was screeching and wailing as he saw the wreckage of his Aston Martin. Marco leaned into his side and pressed a kiss against his throat. "I feel bad for him, almost," Marco said, just loud enough for the senator to hear. "That car was the only action a tight-ass like him was ever going to see."
The senator – Jake honestly couldn't remember the man's name, which was a pity. He'd have to find out so he could speak disparagingly of him at his next monthly briefing with the president – whirled around and leveled a finger at them. "Them! You should be questioning them! Those fucking fagg-"
A heavy hand clamped down on the man's shoulder before he could spit the rest of the word out and the senator winced visibly. "General! I insist!"
General O'Neill pinned the senator with a hard glare. "Do you? Ben, these men were with you the entire time. How, exactly, would they have planted a bomb in your car?"
"They could have snuck out!" Ben flailed. "They have motive! You know about the argument we had."
"Argument?" Jake said mildly. "With all due respect, Ben-" he let his tone indicate clearly that he didn't think there was any due – "it takes more than one person to have an argument. You were pretty happy talking to yourself."
Marco's amused snort is muffled in Jake's shoulder.
"Don't be ridiculous, Ben." The general met Jake's gaze briefly and gave a respectful nod. "You're speaking to two of the bravest, most courageous men in history. International heroes, Ben. Men who've done more with their lives than you ever will. Think very hard about the public opinion Ben, since God knows you won't even consider doing the right thing otherwise."
The senator turned on the general with an outraged squawk. Jake nodded back. "Is there a problem, general? Should we stick around? Do you need to question us?"
"Not at all," General O'Neill said. "Get out of here. I'm sure you two have better places to be. And congratulations, by the way."
Jake smiled his thanks and hugged Marco to his left side as they walked away, ignoring Senator Ben's outraged sputters and objections.
Their hotel was just a few blocks away, close enough that they hadn't bothered to drive. The night was comfortably cool and Marco was a pleasant warmth against his side as they walked. Jake remembered a time when they wouldn't have been comfortable walking down a city street like this; a time when what they had had been so new and so carefully guarded from the rest of the world. Jake took his hand off Marco's hip and caught Marco's hand, twining their fingers together. He rubbed his ring finger against Marco's, enjoying the soft metallic sound of their rings touching.
Marco squeezed his fingers.
The concierge met them at the door, exclaimed politely but sincerely over their safety, and escorted them to the elevator, promising to have something sent to their room to help them recover from their 'ordeal.' Jake, who'd been through far worse shocks than this just going to the grocery store, thanked him.
A room service attendant was just leaving the room as they arrived. She smiled sweetly at Jake and batted her eyes becomingly at Marco as she slipped past them. Marco leaned back to check out he1r ass, then quite obviously checked out Jake's as well. Jake laughed and caught a thick curl in his hand, tugging Marco into the room.
The lights were turned down and candles flickered throughout the room. Jake glanced at one and saw an electric tea light flickering in the delicate glass candle holder. The table was set with a silk tablecloth, which Jake's mind catalogued as a needless luxury. A bottle of champagne sat on ice, two thin flutes alongside. There were a half-dozen small serving silver serving trays, each with a different decadent dessert. Homemade chocolates on one, tiny bowls of different flavors of sorbet on another, sliced fruits and thick cream on a third. Marco caught a small engraved card in his hand and flipped it so Jake could see. 'Congratulations on your blessed union' it read in curving gold script. Jake laughed.
"I wonder how many months it'll take before everyplace we go stops treating us like newlyweds?" He plucked a sliced banana from the tray and dipped it in cream before slipping it between Marco's lips.
"Not for a while, probably," Marco said, licking a drop of cream off Jake's finger. "I don't mind. I like getting free alcohol and dessert everywhere we go."
Jake rubbed his thumb over his husband's mouth. "Let me get out of this suit."
Marco nipped the fleshy part of his thumb. "Please."
The bedroom was similarly dim and candlelit, the bed scattered with rose petals – Jake would have laughed, normally, but seriously, he'd try anything once as long as it involved Marco – and another delicate silver tray sitting on the nightstand. Jake was almost afraid to look, but it only contained a small phial of massage oil and a small bottle of bubble bath.
It occurred to Jake just how many romantic traditions were incredibly feminine. He eyed the bubble-bath thoughtfully. As long as it wasn't flower-scented.
Hands touched his back, palms flat.
Jake let Marco undress him from behind, accepting each touch, each kiss that was pressed against his back and shoulders. Nails scraped against his hips as Marco pushed his boxers down, and a gentle tug on each calf was the only communication as Marco lifted his feet to removed his shoes. Naked, he finally turned, only a little disappointed to find Marco already undressed.
"Dessert," Marco said and Jake let himself smile. Marco laughed and touched his cheek. "Chocolate," Marco said. "Champagne."
Their honeymoon hadn't been fancy. They'd rented a cabin in the Canadian woods and spent two weeks not talking to another human being. They'd spent most of those two weeks outdoors, hiking and fishing and canoeing. Swimming too, and Jake still thought of moonlit water sliding over Marco's body. They'd eaten canned vegetables and hotdogs and jerky and made love as many times as they could. They'd fucked in the warm grass behind the cabin, and beneath a forest canopy that blocked out all but the thinnest rays of sunlight and waist-deep in the lake, the cleanest, purest water Jake had ever seen. Jake didn't miss the extravagant luxuries, considering that two uninterrupted weeks together was worth a million bottles of champagne, a thousand fancy hotel rooms. But this was nice, too.
Marco was in the mood to pamper him and Jake was in the mood to let him. Marco leaned back against the couch pillows and pulled Jake down with him, held against Marco's chest. The silver trays were within arm's reach and Jake licked chocolate off Marco's fingers and kissed champagne off Marco's lips until they were both full and lazy and turned on. Jake turned to kiss Marco, swirling his tongue inside Marco's mouth and lapping at the last hint of cream. "Bath," he suggested, feeling the heat of Marco's erection against his back.
The bubble bath was unscented. Jake swallowed his laughter and concentrated on making sure he ran his soapy fingers over every inch of Marco's skin.
Marco stepped from the bath and Jake gripped his waist, holding him in place when he would have reached for a towel. "Wet," Jake said, humping slowly against Marco. "Fuck, you're gorgeous like this." He pulled Marco to the bed and pushed him down, dragging his breath in through his teeth as Marco spread himself out atop the comforter, his hair splayed across the pillows and a hand held out beckoningly.
The massage oil was also unscented. This time Jake didn't bother to hide his laughter.
They made love slowly, letting it last as long as it could. Jake took possession of Marco in a long, smooth thrust, let the heat of Marco's body seep into his own as they lay pressed together. Marco touched him everywhere he could reach, and Jake kissed him, breathed from him, for a long time before he began to move.
When Marco came, he clutched at Jake's shoulders, and gasped against his throat. "You're perfect," he said, breathless and tight. "You're mine, Jake. You're mine."
Jake rolled onto his side, pulling Marco with him so they could rest together, legs tucked together, Marco's head on his shoulder. Jake ran his fingers though Marco's hair and kissed his temple. "I love you." He shook his head and let himself laugh, finally. "You bomb-toting arsonist. Where the hell did you get an explosive anyway?"
Marco pressed closer to his side, ran his fingers down Jake's back. "It is absolutely amazing what you can do with household electronics and chemicals."
He smoothed a hand over Marco's damp curls. "If you get arrested and thrown in jail, I am sending your cellmate a sympathy letter."
Lips pressed against his shoulder. "Please. Like I'd be stupid enough to leave evidence. You should have more faith in me, you know."
Laughter bubbled up in Jake's chest, ruthlessly stamped down. "I have plenty of faith in you. You notice how I didn't even ask you if you'd done it."
Marco propped himself up, his elbow digging into Jake's side. "And that's another thing. How come whenever anything blows up, you always blame me?"
Jake quirked an eyebrow. "Name one explosion that you were not in some way, if not entirely, responsible for or involved with."
"I'm not dignifying that with an answer."
Marco grinned at him, and Jake caught his mouth, bit his bottom lip. "Because you know better than to lie to me."
"Hey!" Marco pulled back, a wounded expression on his face. "I've never - recently - like, since we got married - lied to you!"
Jake bit the side of his throat, felt Marco shudder against him. "That I know of?"
"I am so not answering that."
"Smart man," Jake said.
Marco shifted, planted one hand in the pillows beside Jake's head and braced himself above him. "You're perfect," Marco said, his voice low and intense and still – still – just a little bit angry. "You're beautiful and brave. You've given more than that petty bastard can ever imagine. He has no right to try to hurt you. I won't let you be hurt. Not by that bastard or anyone like him." Marco pressed his mouth to Jake's, and Jake was expecting a deep, bruising touch, but Marco's kiss was almost chaste. "I love you."
Jake took Marco's hand in his, brought it to his lips and kissed the ring that Marco wore. "He can't hurt me. He can say anything he wants and he can't hurt me as long as you wear this."
Marco kissed him again and this time it was deep and wet and full of promise. "They'll bury me with it, Jake."
"Just promise me you won't do it again. I won't let you go to prison, Marco. Please don't put me in a position like that."
Marco sighed, his breath warm and champagne-scented. "I won't."
"Although," Jake let a bit of humor slip into his voice as he pulled Marco down against him, "as far as declarations of love go, it's a hell of a lot less girly than bubble bath and champagne."
Marco laughed and began to move. "Don't diss the bubble bath. I have plans."
He did.
****
