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Rayleigh had been sitting at the bar of some random tavern Roger had wandered into after they’d given the crew some spending money for the weekend and left for town. That was how Roger ended up surrounded by a group of tipsy men, listening to one of his stories about the many adventures he’d been on.
Rayleigh was struggling not to roll his eyes at his husband, considering the fact that he’d been left alone while Roger put on a full reenactment of a fight he’d had a few weeks ago. After about ten minutes of sitting at the bar with his whiskey by himself, a nicely dressed man came over, looked at the many empty seats, and chose to sit in one directly next to Rayleigh. In response, Rayleigh turned the other direction, obviously trying to avoid conversation.
The man ignored this and still tried to start one.
“It’s not often I see men as beautiful as you here,” he said as he leaned back on his elbow against the bar top.
In response, Rayleigh grunted, not giving him much. The man tried again.
“Aww, come on, darling. Let me get to know you. I’ll buy ya another whiskey while I’m at it.”
Rayleigh looked at Roger, who was still distracted by the group of men, and sighed.
“Alright, ya get five minutes, not a minute longer—and make that whiskey a double.”
He wasn’t going to say no to a free drink. It wasn’t like he was going to date the guy. It was just five minutes of conversation. Plus, if the man took it somewhere Rayleigh wasn’t okay with, he was more than capable of handling it.
So the man ordered Rayleigh a double whiskey with no ice and started to try and make conversation.
“You must not be from around here, because I would’ve noticed you by now.”
Rayleigh replied by taking a swig of his drink.
Seeing Rayleigh wasn’t responding to his small talk, the man jumped straight to the point.
“Ah, a man who likes to get straight to the point—I respect that. I’ll be frank with you. You’re a very handsome man, just my type. I want to spend the night being your lover… maybe more, depending on how good you are. So what do you say?”
Rayleigh looked at the man. He wasn’t his type at all—frail-looking, too pale, too short, and not his husband. Plus, the way he was talking wasn’t getting him anywhere. But before Rayleigh could tell the guy to get lost, the man’s shoulder was tapped rather hard by a large, tan hand.
“I think I satisfy my husband enough in every way that he won’t be needing a lover.”
Roger’s other hand went to Rayleigh’s waist, his big, warm palm pressed against his stomach, sending a shiver down Rayleigh’s spine.
“I had it handled, Roger.”
The other man’s face lost all its color when Roger tightened his grip. He stuttered,
“R-r-roger… as in Gold Roger?”
Roger laughed—but not his usual warm, contagious laugh. This one was cold, almost mocking.
“No, pal. It’s Gol D. Roger, not that name the government gave me.”
Rayleigh ran his hand up Roger’s side as he took the last swig of his drink, placing the glass back on the bar.
“Come on, big guy. I ain’t got the patience to patch you up if you get in a scrap tonight.”
They both knew that was a lie. Rayleigh could never lack patience for Roger, and even if he did, he’d never leave him with unchecked injuries. Not that this guy could even leave a scratch on him.
Like the big puppy he was, Roger followed along behind Rayleigh as Rayleigh tugged him by his gold necklace. Once they were out of the bar, Rayleigh led him into an alley and started laughing so hard he was wheezing.
Roger stuck his bottom lip out, arms crossed.
“What’s so funny?”
Rayleigh gasped for air.
“What’s funny is how jealous you can get.”
“It’s not funny,” Roger said. “He was asking to sleep with you—my husband—not your wedding ring. What do I have to do? Start biting your neck and stand next to you all day?”
Rayleigh had to admit that watching Roger get territorial over him was sweet, funny, and a little bit of a turn-on.
Roger saw that look in his husband’s eye and pounced.
“You weren’t going to sleep with him, right?”
Rayleigh got serious.
“Of course not, Roger. For the seas’ sake, I’m your husband. I don’t want anyone but you. You were my first, my only, and you’ll be my last.”
Roger pinned Rayleigh between himself and the wall.
“Gods, Ray, I can’t stop how angry I get thinking about another man’s hands on you—touching my most precious treasure, putting their unworthy, filthy hands on you. It makes me want to snap someone’s neck. You should’ve seen how he looked at you. You’re mine. No one else’s, okay? I liked it, so I put a ring on it. You’re mine for life—even after death, you’re still my husband, okay?”
Rayleigh felt a kind of joy he only ever got when Roger’s jealousy showed. Roger was a jealous man, and his jealousy was worse because of his D nature—it hit differently when it involved Rayleigh.
Roger’s lips brushed against Rayleigh’s collarbone. Rayleigh’s breath hitched suddenly, and Roger being jealous wasn’t so funny anymore.
“Roger, we are not doing this in an alley. At least take me to a hotel if you can’t wait until we get back to the ship.”
Rayleigh twisted, trying to get out of Roger’s arms. Roger just kept kissing Rayleigh’s neck.
“Okay, Ray, darling—but first, I need everyone on the way to Beagle to see my claim on you.”
It was going to be a long night for Rayleigh. He just hoped he wouldn’t be too sore in the morning—or that the kids wouldn’t ask about the bite marks already starting to litter his skin, thanks to his husband.