In Chapter 18 of A Willful Romantic (GQ Book 3), after reading the most recent installment of Drake’s Progress, Martin is inspired by what he’s read and suggests a game to Henry.

For whatever reason, I just didn’t feel like this scene belonged. Other people read it and liked it, and I certainly don’t think they were wrong, but I still decided to take it out, and I think the book works better without it.

I don’t dislike the scene though, and thought people might enjoy the opportunity to read it anyway. If you like Henry and Martin (and you probably do if you’re reading this), then here’s some more of that :)

This picks up where Chapter 18 of A Willful Romantic (GQ Book 3) leaves off.

This blog layout is not the best for reading long-form text, so you can read it on AO3 if you prefer.

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(Virgin Game)

“All this gazing into each other’s eyes can’t just be about bravery and justice,” Henry remarked.

Martin snickered. “I do agree with you, Henry. Well, that’s it for this month,” he said, folding the magazine closed. “To be continued.”

“Come look into my eyes,” Henry suggested, reaching for him. Martin laughed and leaned over him. “Be brave,” Henry said, pulling him down for a kiss. “Do good.”

Martin took his glasses off and stretched to put them on the nightstand and gave Henry another, deeper kiss. “I love you, Henry.”

The words had such a profound effect on Henry every time Martin said them. He was overcome with the urge to grab hold of Martin, to draw him close and closer still, to merge their bodies. He wanted to be the sort of person who deserved Martin’s love and had the uneasy feeling that he was not, that he had somehow fooled Martin into believing him worthy.

“I love you, too,” he said. “More than anything.”

Now they lay gazing into each other’s eyes in all seriousness, their feelings building in intensity, the air thickening between them. Martin licked his lip and Henry sighed as though he’d felt it on his own mouth. He reached for the buttons of Martin’s trousers and fumbled with them a moment.

“Let me,” Martin said. He sat up and removed his waistcoat, shrugged his braces from his shoulders, and unbuttoned his cuffs. Henry watched him do this as if mesmerized, then came back to himself and began hurriedly to undress. Martin was quickly nude and helped Henry remove his clothes before stretching out alongside him. They kissed and rolled around on the bed, struggling a little, testing each other’s strength.

“Play a game with me, Henry.” Martin sat up, straddling Henry’s hips. He took his own cock and Henry’s in his hand and gave them a squeeze.

“What kind of game?”

“I was thinking about Dooley and Jeanette and their wedding night. What if I was shy, and you had to coax me to have sex for the very first time? What if I was scared of your big cock?” He grinned at Henry, neither shy nor scared.

Henry laughed, liking the idea. The idea of brazen, saucy-mouthed Martin as a shy virgin was quite ridiculous, but exciting nonetheless. When he’d met Martin, he’d known less than nothing, but he thought he’d know what to do with a virgin now.

“All right. Let’s play.”

“Just a minute.” Martin abruptly got off him and hopped off the bed, padding into his own bedroom. Henry propped himself up on his elbows and watched him go, confused.

Martin returned wrapped in his dressing gown, the sash tied firmly, and hugging his elbows. He stood at the bedside, his body language endearingly awkward. “I’ve never been naked with a man, Sir,” he explained in a little voice, eyes downcast. “You have such a beautiful body that I think your expectations must be very high. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you, Sir.” He cut his eyes sideways at Henry and gave him a shy smile.

Henry sat up and let his legs hang over the side of the bed. “Come here,” he said, beckoning, arms open in welcome. “Don’t be afraid.” Martin stood between his legs still wearing the shy smile but hesitant to meet his eyes. Henry took hold of his chin and turned his face so that their eyes met, if only briefly. “I want you so much,” he assured him. “You could never disappoint me.” He reached for the sash of the dressing gown and Martin gave a little squeak of fear and pulled the garment closer around his body. “You can keep it on,” Henry suggested. “Just let me open it. Let me see a little of you, please?”

“All right, Sir. But only a little.”

Henry untied the sash and held his hands out. “Take my hands,” he said. “Please, Martin. I want to see you so badly.”

Martin unfolded his arms slowly and gingerly took Henry’s hands. As he did so, the sides of the dressing gown fell open and his hard cock was exposed. Martin made the fearful little squeak again. In a breathy, hesitant voice, he asked, “Do I please you, Sir?”

“Very much,” Henry assured him. “You’re so beautiful, Martin. Such a sweet, innocent boy.” He kissed the backs of Martin’s hands, one and then the other. “Will you let me make love to you?”

Martin’s cock flexed at Henry’s words. “If you want to, Sir,” Martin said in his shy-mouse voice. “I-I haven’t done it before. I’m sorry, Sir; I’m afraid I won’t be very good at it.”

“You’ll be amazing,” Henry assured him. “Come lie down with me.” Henry let go Martin’s hands and swung his legs up onto the bed. He lay back and patted the coverlet. “Right here beside me.” He stretched out on his side, propped up on his elbow, and patted the bed again.

Martin hesitated. “I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you, Sir. I’m so inexperienced.”

“All I’m asking is that you lie down,” Henry pointed out. “That doesn’t require any experience. How can you disappoint me doing that?”

Martin smiled at this and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking the opportunity to fold the dressing gown closed. He swung his legs up and lay back stiffly at Henry’s side.

“Have you been kissed before?” Henry asked him, reaching over and opening his dressing gown again, exposing a long expanse of white skin, reddish hair, a very hard cock.

“No, Sir.” In a whisper.

Henry touched Martin’s cheek, turned his head with fingertips on his chin. He kissed Martin lingeringly, mouth slightly open, tongue darting out to touch Martin’s lips, and Martin made a startled, frightened sound and pulled away, affronted. “Sir! Your tongue!”

Henry had to bite back a laugh. “That’s how lovers kiss,” he insisted gently. He kissed Martin again, and Martin did a fair impression of an inexperienced yet naturally talented kisser, his tongue shy but curious. He stayed on his back, his arms at his sides. Henry rolled half on top of him, his cock pressed into Martin’s hip.

Martin broke their kiss. “Sir,” he said breathlessly. “I can feel your cock against my leg, Sir. It’s too big! It will never fit inside me, Sir, I know it!”

“It’s not that big,” Henry insisted. “It will fit, and it will feel so good. I promise you’ll like it. Won’t you trust me?”

“Yes, Sir,” Martin said reluctantly. “But I’m scared.” He was trying not to smile, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Henry said gently. “Here, touch it; you’ll see.” He took hold of Martin’s wrist and drew his hand close. Martin balked, tried to pull his hand away, but Henry wouldn’t let him.

Martin’s fingers closed around Henry’s cock and he looked at Henry with wide eyes. “You’re going to break me with your giant cock, Sir, I just know it!” He pressed his lips tightly together, trying to control his face, but then they both burst out laughing, collapsing against one another. Still laughing, Martin turned his face up to kiss Henry in a most expert fashion.

“Wait,” Henry said. “Do you still want to play your game?”

Martin snorted. “Yes, please, let’s play. I’m a timid virgin. I won’t laugh anymore.”

Henry shifted up onto his knees, looking down on Martin, down past his own hard cock. “I want to see you naked.”

Martin pushed up onto his elbows, not meeting Henry’s eyes. He leaned first to one side, then the other, slipping his arms out of his dressing gown, and lay back down on the bed fully exposed. The color of his cock was such a vivid pink, bright as a flower against the white of his belly. Martin stretched a little, arching his back, showing himself to Henry with a shy smile.

Henry put his hand over Martin’s heart. “Has anyone ever touched your cock before?”

“No, Sir,” Martin said bashfully. “No one has ever wanted to.”

Oh, Henry thought, if only that were true! “Let me be the first,” Henry suggested. “Let me be the only one.”

“A-all right, Sir,” Martin said, his voice tremulous and unsure. He held his arms stiffly at his sides, his hands in tight fists.

“Relax,” Henry urged him. “You’ll like this, I promise.” He bent to kiss the hollow of Martin’s throat and Martin gave a fluttery little sigh. Martin’s cock was very hard, moving with his pulse, the head glossy with secretions. Henry reached out and very deliberately wrapped his fingers around the length of it, just holding it. Martin sucked in a hard breath and went very still. Henry rubbed his thumb over the head and Martin gasped, as if he really had never felt such a sensation before in his life, and while that was nonsense, it was also terribly arousing.

“Can I kiss you here?” Henry asked, rubbing his thumb over the head again. He looked at Martin’s face and Martin looked away.

“It’s forbidden, Sir,” Martin said in a worried whisper. “Nice people don’t do that.”

“But I do it,” Henry countered. “Don’t you think I’m nice?”

“Of course, Sir. You’re lovely. But—”

“But nothing. A cock like yours should be kissed.” Henry shifted over and knelt between Martin’s legs. “Watch me do it,” Henry told him. “Don’t close your eyes or look away.” Henry glanced up to make sure Martin was watching, leaned forward, and reached out with a swipe of his tongue to taste him. Martin moaned and a shudder passed through his body. His hands came to rest on either side of Henry’s head, fingers twisting in his hair. Henry took hold of Martin’s hips and kissed the head of his cock, sucking it into his mouth, then pulled off to look up at him again.

“Does it feel good?”

“It feels too good, Sir,” Martin said breathlessly. “You’ll make me come so fast, Sir. I don’t want to, not yet.”

“Let me do it just once more, all the way, and then I’ll stop.”

“All right, Sir. Do that.” Martin was shaking; he wasn’t lying about being close to coming.

Henry sucked Martin’s cock in slowly, his tongue busy. Martin gasped and trembled.

“Sir…” he said, a quaver in his voice. “Sir, I’m so close…”

Taking it in all the way to the root, Martin’s pubic hair against his lips, Martin’s cock jerking against his tongue, right on the verge. Regretfully, Henry let it slide out of his mouth.

Martin was gasping, his cheeks very pink, his balls drawn up tight.

“I’d love to make you come,” Henry said softly, his grip on Martin’s hips firm. “I could make you come right now, with just my tongue. I could just lick you a little more and you’d come on my face.”

“Oh! You have to stop teasing, Sir,” Martin begged, shuddering. “I’m not ready to stop playing.”

“You’re so excited,” Henry marveled. “It’s because it’s all so new to you, isn’t that right?” He let go of Martin’s hips, stopped breathing his warm breath onto Martin’s throbbing cock.

“Yes, Sir.” Martin said gratefully.

Henry knelt up again. “Turn over,” he said. “Show me your ass.”

Martin slowly turned onto his belly, arching his back a little, and turning his head to look over his shoulder at Henry. “Like this, Sir?”

Henry skimmed his hand over the curve of Martin’s ass and Martin shivered under his touch. “No one’s ever touched your ass before?” He ran his fingertips lightly between the cheeks and Martin gasped, squirming, his legs parting fractionally. “No one at all?”

“Just you, Sir,” Martin insisted in a hushed tone. “No one ever wanted to before you.”

Henry laughed at the sheer improbability of this and bent to kiss the fullness of Martin’s buttocks, one and then the other. He pressed a kiss to the top of the cleft, his tongue just hinting at a deeper sweep.

Martin gave a nervous yelp. “No, you can’t do that, Sir! It’s dirty.” Martin started to push himself up off the bed.

Henry stopped him with a hand between his shoulder blades. “There’s nothing dirty about you.” He caressed Martin’s ass again, then gave him a little slap. “Get on your hands and knees.”

Martin did so hesitantly, his hard cock riding close to his belly. “What are you going to do, Sir?”

“I’m going to kiss your tight little virgin hole until you beg me to fuck you.” Henry’s cheeks burned at his bold words, thrilled at his own daring.

Martin gasped and his balls drew up tight between his thighs. “Oh, god, Sir, you can’t!”

Henry knelt between Martin’s feet and put a hand on each of Martin’s buttocks. “I can, Martin, and I will. You’re going to love it.”

Martin gave a little sob and trembled, but he got down on his elbows like he always did.

Henry parted Martin’s cheeks and looked with fondness on the pucker of Martin’s asshole. How he loved Martin’s ass! He bent and pressed a kiss there, and Martin gave a startled yip. He licked him and Martin let out a wordless exclamation, leaning back into the pressure. Henry forgot about the virgin game and set to eating Martin’s ass as thoroughly and unrelentingly as possibly. Martin gave every sign of loving it, as he always did, making enthusiastic noises and shuddering with pleasure in response to everything Henry did. Martin moaned, his voice muffled by the bedding, and reached for his own cock, but Henry knocked his hand away.

“No, Martin. No touching.”

“Please, Sir. It feels too good.”

Henry didn’t deign to reply, but thrust a finger into Martin’s body and licked all around his own knuckle.

Martin whimpered, hips jerking, and moaned, “Please, Sir. I can’t stand it.” His hands clutched at the bedding, twisting it into wrinkled whorls.

Martin certainly could stand it, and they had done this enough times before that Henry was confident he couldn’t make Martin come with just this alone. He could keep Martin in this frantic, aroused state indefinitely, completely at Henry’s mercy and helplessly in thrall to the least movement of his tongue.

“Oh, god, Henry, please!”

Henry lifted his face from between Martin’s cheeks. “Remember what I said? Beg for what you want. Say the words.”

“No, Sir, please, just do it! I-I’m a shy virgin, Sir! I can’t say it!”

“Not a chance.” He lowered his face and pegged Martin’s hole with his tongue.

Martin cried out and his asshole clenched. “Okay, Sir, all right! Please fuck me! Shove your big, fat cock in my virgin hole! Make it hurt! I’m begging, Sir, I’m really begging!”

“You want me to be your first?”

Martin shuddered and reached blindly back for him, clutching at his wrist. “More than anything, Sir!”

Henry reached for the nightstand and the oil in the drawer. He knelt up and oiled his cock and drizzled a little oil on Martin’s asshole, then pushed in two fingers, in and out, and Martin growled impatiently, pushing his hips back against Henry’s hand.

“You’re such an eager virgin,” Henry said, amused.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this, Sir,” Martin gasped out. “Waiting for your hard cock. Waiting and wanting you to ram it in me.”

“That’s no way to treat a virgin,” Henry chided, lining his cock up between Martin’s ass cheeks. “Don’t you want me to treat you sweetly?” But Martin didn’t, he knew this.

“No, Si—”

Henry shoved his cock into Martin’s body with one long, hard thrust, slamming his pelvis against Martin’s ass, holding onto his hips. Martin gave a shout—surprised, happy, and relieved—and braced himself for an anticipated pounding.

Henry stayed where he was, his cock jerking in Martin’s ass, just feeling everything he could feel. He reached forward and stroked Martin’s hair. “You’re not a virgin anymore,” he said, teasing but with a hint of wistfulness. He wondered about Martin’s real first time with Richard, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to know the details, wasn’t sure he was prepared to hear Martin speak of the intimacy he’d shared with someone else he’d loved. He shook off his melancholy; he was here, alive, and Martin was his own.

Martin moved his head against Henry’s hand like a cat wanting to be stroked. He turned to look at Henry over his shoulder. “I’m not a boy anymore, then, Sir.”

“Is that so?” Running a hand down Martin’s back to the nape of his neck, then back up again. Feeling Martin’s impatience, the way his asshole clenched erratically around Henry’s cock. Pulling out, the drag on his skin so intensely pleasurable, just the head of his cock still inside Martin’s body.

“I’m a man now, Sir,” Martin told him, panting. “Fuck me like you’d fuck a man. Please!”

Martin wanted something rough, merciless, virile. Henry slammed his hips forward, burying his cock to the hilt, and Martin let out another shout, crowing and triumphant. Henry fucked him bruisingly hard and deep, urged on by his sharp cries. Martin braced his hands against the headboard, elbows threatening to buckle with each of Henry’s thrusts.

“Oh, god, Sir, let me come, please.”

“Touch yourself,” Henry told him. “I want you to come.” Holding Martin by the hips, hauling him back onto his cock with each hard thrust forward.

Martin’s left shoulder and arm working, his right arm quaking where it was braced against the bed. “Henry! Oh, god, Henry!” Martin stilled and came and Henry immediately slowed his movements, running his hand soothingly up and down Martin’s back. Martin arched up against his touch and slowly turned to smile at him, languid and satisfied, as he caught his breath. He reached back for Henry’s hand and squeezed. “You’re still so hard.”

“I didn’t come yet.” He pulled his cock out of Martin’s body and reached for the oil. “On your back.” He oiled his cock again while Martin rolled over for him, pulling his knees up. He pushed his cock back inside Martin’s ass and bent to kiss him. “If you were really a scared little virgin boy, I’d have fucked you so gently. I would have been so careful. I would have done it like this.” Hips rolling, pleasure building exponentially. It felt so good he could cry.

Hungry kissing with Martin’s arms looped around his neck. “Come for me, Henry,” whispered in his ear. Martin’s hands stroking his hair, stroking his back. “I want to feel you come.”

His orgasm came over him like a juggernaut, a moment of exquisite obliteration; he felt atomized, blown apart, and came crashing back into his body, sweating and out of breath, with Martin whispering encouragement beneath him.

He ducked his head against Martin’s shoulder. “Did you feel it?”

Martin kissed his neck. “Oh, yes, I did. It was good, wasn’t it?”

Henry’s softened cock slipped out of Martin’s ass and Henry rolled off him. “It was amazing.” He stretched and reached for Martin, pulling him close. “Did you like how your game turned out?”

“If I’d been a real virgin, I’d have been terrified. But you know what I’m like. I loved it.”

“You’re a good actor,” Henry told him. “The voices you do, and then this, pretending to be a virgin. Did you ever do plays at Ganymede? Theater of some kind?”

“Yes, we did put on shows, but I wasn’t very good. I only got to do little roles. I usually didn’t get a speaking part.”

This surprised Henry a great deal. Martin not good enough to essentially do voices? Martin was amazing at doing voices!

“I always enjoyed myself, though. I liked the costumes and the makeup. When I was small, I was always in a girl’s role, and I liked wearing the dresses.”

Henry tried to picture Martin in a dress now and thought he would make an unlikely woman despite his pretty face. Far too tall, shoulders too broad, the planes of his body too hard. His looks might be well-enhanced with paint, however.

“Jeanette is going to need more clothes, don’t you think?”

“What?”

“Just thinking of dresses. She only has the one and her chemise. She should have bought a wedding dress in port, or at least a change of clothes.”

For Henry, Jeanette was less a character and more a plot device. Only Theo and George were real to him. But, yes, she probably ought to have had a trousseau of some sort. “You’re right. It’s a bit disgusting to think of her wearing this same dress for weeks on end.”

“It’s a week before they get to Île Inconnue,” Martin said. “Maybe someone there will have a dress for her.”

Henry laughed. “I’m not concerned about Jeanette’s dress when they get to the Island. I’m excited for the showdown with DeSade.”

“Well, me too, of course.” Martin seemed slightly offended that Henry would think otherwise.

“Their fights are always ridiculous,” Henry told him. “Nothing ever gets resolved, and they pontificate a lot while they’re fighting when you’d think they’d be too out of breath to talk.”

Martin sat up suddenly. “Oh! Henry! I think I’m missing my dinner!” He got down from the bed and searched for his waistcoat and the watch in its pocket. “I need to go down or I’ll go hungry tonight.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen. I’d make Cook feed you regardless.”

“It’s better if I follow the same rules as everyone else.” Martin went into the bathroom to wash himself and then fetched his basin and hurriedly washed Henry’s cock, spilling water on the bed in his haste. He then rushed into his room, where he could be heard rustling around in his wardrobe. He came out perhaps two minutes later fully dressed, his hair tied neatly. Gesturing at the clothing strewn around the bed, he said, “I’ll pick up our school clothes when I come back to dress you.”

“Fine with me,” Henry said agreeably. He planned to doze while Martin was gone.

“Goodbye, my sweet Henry.” Martin bent and kissed him. “I’ll be back directly.”

While Martin was gone, Henry slept, dreaming of Martin in Jeanette’s dress losing his virginity to Henry-as-Theo, which was very erotic despite Henry’s loathing of the idea of Jeanette with Theo. Upon Martin’s return, Henry tried to describe the dream, still half-asleep, but was unable to convey how truly compelling Martin had been in his skirt.

“You were Theo?” Martin helped Henry into his trousers and reached for his shirt.

“Sort of. I was me, but I was him, too.” He let Martin help him slide his arms into his dinner shirt.

Tugging Henry’s shirt into place, Martin stood close and leaned in so his lips were just brushing Henry’s ear. “If you had the chance, Henry, would you change places with Theo? Would you swap with him? Me for George? Theo fucking me while you suck George’s cock?”

Henry was rendered dumb. He’d somehow never imagined anything like this on his own, only ever Theo and George together, or himself as Theo, and the idea of mixing up his fantasies and his reality was so perfect and so perfectly naughty that it took his breath away. He felt the heat of a tingling blush rise to the surface of his skin, and Martin laughed, delighted to have given him something so tailored to his specific wants.

Mouth dry, Henry cleared his throat and said, “I-I think I would.” It was a fantasy, after all.

Martin’s breath was warm against the side of Henry’s face as he said, “I’d do you proud, Henry. I’d make Theo wish he had someone as good as me for his own.”

“So you’d seduce him?” Henry was half-amused, half-concerned. “And are you so sure you’d be better than George?”

Martin gave him a wry smile. “Oh, Henry, what do you think?” If nothing else, Martin’s confidence was very attractive. Martin helped Henry to button on his braces.

What Henry actually thought was that he’d be happy never having another lover, that Martin was all he’d ever really want, that even if George was a flesh-and-blood man standing in front of Henry, naked and willing, Henry would choose Martin, but thought perhaps it would seem stodgy to say so, especially when they were talking about a fantasy.

“I think Theo would fall in love with you,” Henry told him, putting his arms into the waistcoat that Martin held up for him. “I can’t imagine anyone being with you and not loving you.”

Martin snorted. “You only think so because you and I are so well-suited, but I can assure you that my appeal is not so universal.”

“I don’t believe you,” Henry said, lifting his chin so that Martin could tie his tie. “I think all those boys you were with at Ganymede are pining for you still,” he said, meaning to be playful.

Martin looked wary at this mention of his sexual past, clearly worried that Henry was on the verge of a tantrum, so Henry gave him a reassuring kiss. “I don’t think you’re pining for them, though.”

“I’m not,” Martin said firmly, lips pressed tightly together. He stepped behind Henry and held his jacket ready.

The mood had shifted. Henry felt he had somehow spoiled the fantasy Martin had created for him, that it had been much more delicate than it had initially seemed. He thought it better to shut up than to keep blundering. They went down for dinner and he squeezed Martin’s hand in the corridor just outside the dining room. Martin squeezed back, and Henry felt relieved, forgiven.