Page 72 of Forget Me Not

Cal put a hand to the side of Ray’s face and peered at him, although still Ray had no clue what Cal saw in the dark. “Raymond,” he began pertly, “I am giving you permission right now to touch and taste and smell me as you please. Also I am yours, youwillknow this even if you won’t believe it yet, so I’ll tell you that way back when, in the early days of us. Before we were an ‘us.’ When you would see me and shimmer with longing, and your silvers and whites would flare like sunspots with jealousy. In those days, I would sometimes find the biggest, snarliest beings in town and I would fuck them—get them to fuck me, whatever. I was trying to imagine what it would be like with you, and maybe I also wondered how much you could sense, even hours or days later.“ He brushed his thumb over Ray’s lips, curled into a snarl. “They were all what I asked for but never you. It was terrible.”

“That isn’t soothing,” Ray informed him, barely recognizing his own voice.

“It’s not meant to be.” Cal kissed Ray’s mouth, brief, then lingering when Ray softened. “It’s meant to remind you that I am here, and I would…” he swallowed, “I would really like it if you lost yourself in my scent, or wanted to taste me some more, or just spooned up next to me so I could feel you.”

Ray breathed in and out several times. “May I?” he asked at last.

“Please,” Cal replied in a whisper, and then clung to Ray in surprise or for security as Ray picked him up to lay him down on the bed with his head on Ray’s pillow. Cal moved a bit, wiggling his hips, getting comfortable, and then made grabby hands toward Ray that Ray captured and held against the bed with great pleasure. He had been wanting to pin down this butterfly since he’d met him.

Cal’s pout disappeared as Ray settled over his body. Ray imagined himself as a silhouette surrounded by marbled silvers and whites as he leaned down to sniff a pointed ear, the tender hollow beneath it, the pulse point below that. Cal’s heart was racing. His desire there smelled like chocolate ganache made with rum, served over cake, the kind of dessert Penn would order. Cal ought to be strawberries or a parfait. Ray didn’t care for any of those things yet his mouth was watering.

“Verdict?” Cal prompted, voice high.

“Dark chocolate,” Ray informed him quietly, still breathing it in, “Alcohol.”

There was nothing boozy, nothing of cocoa or heavy cream in Cal’s scent. That was still shampoo and sweat and tears,affection/need/care. But the heat of him had weight. The flavor was rich.

Ray used his tongue to find it better. Cal twitched, then exhaled a laugh, then said, “That’s new. I think it was salted caramel before. But maybe this time I need you more.”

“I don’t like salted caramel,” Ray murmured, frowning in distraction at the subtle shift in scent and flavor from Cal’s pulse point to his collarbone. “More of the rum now.” He tried to think of all the fruity drinks humans had pushed on him over the years at events, in bars, but it wasn’t pineapple or cherries urging him to use the flat of his tongue again.

Cal made a pleased, panting little noise. “Rum?” he echoed.

“The dark kind,” Ray decided out loud, then hummed. “Christmas,” he realized. “Rum balls with spiced chocolate someone made.” Everyone had been happy, handing them out. He couldn’t remember when. It must have been years ago, somewhere. “I think I snuck some.”

Cal arched toward Ray’s mouth and it was no hardship to taste him again. “Forbidden rum balls.” He was delighted, if breathless. “Were you a kid? And some huma—ah—Ray, that’s…. You just had to have them?”

Ray slid Cal’s hands up above his head so he could use one hand to hold him. He stared down into Cal’s wide, wide eyes, almost unseeing in the dark. “What are my colors now?”

“The same as always, but sparking reds and oranges over the cooler shades.” Cal tipped his head up. Ray descended to kiss him, then growling at how eager Cal was, how difficult it was to pull away.

The other side of Cal’s throat was similar. Ray imagined one could add raspberries to that sort of cake and that Cal would love it, pieces broken off in Ray’s hand and fed to him, or tiny portions served on a delicate fork.

He leaned in closer to sniff Cal’s shoulder, wishing freckles had a scent, then dropped down to inhale at the armpit, the faint, fuzzy hair tickling his nose. Cal giggled. Ray thought of fruit, again with spices. Warm fruit.

“Peaches,” he said, before Cal could ask.

Cal laughed outright. “Peach cobbler? You’ve said that before. Apparently, I require pastry dough.”

Ray wasn’t sure he’d ever had peach cobbler in his life. He thought about trying to explain, warmth and food and summer fruit. The image if not the taste of a pie cooling on a windowsill. Sugar. Cinnamon. Frustrated, he shook his head. He took another long, sweet breath, then moved on to Cal’s nipple.

Cal jerked, pushing against Ray’s hold and then settling down with a long, low sigh, as if his taut nipple in Ray’s mouth was something he had been waiting for all day. His heart was close, loud. Everything was still warm, but more tart, with less buzzing sweetness than his throat.Apples, Ray thought, like he was meeting Cal all over again. Baked with oats and other fruit, brown sugar and more cinnamon.Bite. There was something sharp to him, as if, if Ray released him, his hands would be scratching up Ray’s shoulders.

Ray let go without another thought.

Cal grabbed for Ray’s shirt, pulling until Ray lifted himself up to let Cal strip it away. Cal put his hands on Ray’s shoulder blades with a hum of satisfaction.

Cal would mark him. Ray could feel himself getting hard at the thought.

Ray dragged his tongue over Cal’s breastbone, then found his other nipple. He did not bite, although his growl made Cal’s cock twitch. Ray reached down to grip it. The bloom of scent that followed the action was nearly as heady as Cal’s moan.

More salt now, Ray told him, or tried to, but his mouth didn’t want to leave Cal’s chest. A salt not as stinging as the spray of the ocean or the air up by the bluffs. More savory. Delicious.

“Stew,” Ray muttered and chose to ignore Cal’s snort of amusement.

“I suppose to a were, a hearty beef stew is sexy.” Cal lifted his hips. Ray nudged them back down, but enjoyed the feel of Cal’s cock sliding through his hand, and the surge ofheat/blood/wantbeneath Cal’s skin.

Ray hadn’t specified beef, but didn’t argue. He jacked Cal’s cock a few more times, breathing hard to get all of the scent that he could, then moved so he could take the tip into his mouth. Cal gasped and laughed and grabbed Ray’s hair.

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