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“How dare you two conspire against me,” Reginald said with a petulant sniff but his lips curled into a smile. “It’s so sweet of you two to care.”

“We’re both worried.”

“I am about to get so much rest,” Reginald boasted. He hooked a leg around Paul’s hip and purred seductively.

“What if you rested first?” Paul suggested, making Reginald laugh.

“As if I’d be able to rest until you came in every one of my orifices,” he replied haughtily. Paul chuckled as he nibbled on Reginald’s earlobe.

“You don’t have to be conscious for all of that,” he teased but Reginald whimpered and bucked beneath him.

“Yes! Fuck me right into a coma and just keep using me!”

“Calm down. I managed to grab a few hours of sleep here and there but I spent most of the time watching you to make sure you were still moving.”

Paul had to monitor Reginald’s progress by the coordinates on his watch. The numbers would stop ticking for a few hours or half a day and Paul would mentally note Reginald’s location as they hopscotched their way around the globe. They left their identities and regular phones in the States—Paul’s in Georgetown and Reginald’s in Lake Cliff—agreeing there would be no contact to link them while they were traveling. London was the last place anyone would look for Reginald and no one would recognize Paul. It drove him nuts to grow his hair out but Reginald said Paul looked like a sexy professor with flecks of silver in his beard.

“I’m certain this was overkill but I wasn’t taking any chances. There’s no telling what Speed’s hiding,” Reginald muttered.

“What did I say?” Paul scolded.

“I know of one good way to shut me up…” Reginald hummed and wiggled his brows at Paul.

“If that’s what it takes.” He pretended to be put out but Paul was aching as he rose on his knees and crawled to the massive mirrored headboard. He planted a hand on the glass and fisted the other in Reginald’s hair at his insistence. It was bliss and Paul was still in awe as Reginald swallowed every inch of his shaft, loudly slurping and gagging in delight.

They were loud and fucked hard, finishing just before the doorbell rang. Reginald had ordered more lamb curry and pakoras than either of them could eat but Paul was happy to see him making a solid effort. He ate an entire serving of truffled naan and most of the paneer along with two helpings of the lamb. Reginald finished off the carrot halwa before finally tapping out and crawling back into bed.

“Where’s the kitchen?” Paul asked once he’d packed up all the leftovers. “I’ll grab more water.”

“Take a left at the bottom of the stairs and it’s the last door on the right. You can’t miss it. Bring more champagne too.”

“We’ll see,” Paul said over his shoulder as he left with a tray of takeout containers. He would “forget” and if Paul was lucky, he’d find Reginald passed out when he returned.

The kitchen was right where Reginald said it would be and the fridge was fully stocked with plenty of champagne and everything Paul would need to make their favorite meals. And it was a stunning kitchen. The floors and surfaces were all in ice-blue marble that matched Reginald’s eyes and hair. Even the appliances were in pale blue and the sleek chrome fixtures brought out the silver veins in the marble.

The house had once belonged to one of Reginald’s ancestors, another notoriously brilliant Lord Marston. Except that Lord Marston had been a political mover and shaker and had married a cousin of the Queen. But Reginald imagined himself as more of a marcher lord in the original sense, like the first Lord Marston.

The way Paul understood it, from the quick rundown Reginald had given him, was that the first Marston was like many early British marquises in that his title was bestowed like a knighthood, instead of attached to a place like York or Cambridge. The title was given to the original bearer and carried his name, which was why he was both Reginald Marston and Lord Marston.

Like Reginald, the first Marston had been a mercenary with enough wealth and power to feed and outfit an army. The army was the most powerful form of technology at the time and titles were given to those who were willing to aid a powerful duke or monarch’s political aspirations and defend borders. Reginald had surpassed the need for a physical army but he had quietly reinstated the power of the marquisate by aligning himself with a more powerful ruler.

Reginald thought it was fun and symbolic, taking back something his grandfather had lost by secretly becoming the most powerful Marston since the first. He’d done it all himself, despite being disowned by his miserable parents. The townhouse was right around the corner from Buckingham Palace and had cost an eye-watering sum of money. Reginald had defiantly turned it into a shrine to himself. Hence all the mirrors and the many black-and-white nudes he'd commissioned for the new home in London.

Paul had yet to see them all but he was looking forward to shaving and wandering around the house later. He was fine with living in a shrine to Reginald because that’s right where Paul belonged. And if anyone deserved a shrine, it was Reginald. Paul understood how lost and tormented his husband was and believed that Reginald deserved to be revered for his brilliance and his beauty.

But Reginald seemed intent on testing Paul’s patience. He had two laptops open and on the bed when Paul returned. Reginald looked up and huffed in disappointment at the teacup and saucer.

“You forgot the champagne,” he said but he didn’t sound surprised.

“Silly me. Got confused and picked up this decaf Earl Grey instead,” Paul replied with a sheepish smile.

“I will drink it because I love you. And Earl Grey.”

Reginald offered his lips as Paul handed him his tea. “I think I’ll take a quick shower. We’re crashing after that,” Paul said as he pointed at Reginald.

“I promise I’ll put everything away and try as soon as you get out. Just let me play for a few more minutes, Mom!” He batted his lashes at Paul.

“I don’t want to see any of this on the bed when I get out,” Paul said and gestured at the laptops on his way across the room. The bathroom was just as airy and opulent as the kitchen. A tub large enough to hold four grown men had been carved from the same pale blue marble that surrounded Paul as he showered. It was the color of Reginald’s eyes and hair and had become Paul’s favorite hue.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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