Valentine's Cruise

by Merry Amelie

Title: Valentine's Cruise
Author: Merry Amelie
Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A weekend of romance.

I'm posting Arcadia and Q/O drabbles to TPM 100.

Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 138
A chronological list of the series with the URLs can be found under the header 'Academic Arcadia' at the Master Apprentice ML.

My MA story page is here.

Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com.
Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.

For
My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol
Mali Wane for posting
My former betas: Alex, Ula, and Padawan Sue

Anything Goes info, courtesy of Wikipedia.

Valentine's Day celebrations with Quinn and Ian:
2004 -- Valentines by Design
2005 -- Valentine's Day at the Gardens
2006 -- A Newlywed Valentine's Day
2007 -- Valentine's Morning
2008 -- Valentine's Night

Their previous cruises:
2004 -- A Cruise for Two
2005 -- Family Cruise

"Surprise!"

Quinn flicked two cruise tickets near the cleft of Ian's chin as he leaned on his desk at home. Grabbing them in mid-wave, Ian grinned in anticipation. "Oh, Quinn! We haven't been sailing in forever. Thank you!" Ian kissed him enthusiastically.

Quinn smiled. "You're welcome, laddie. I figured we could swing it with the money we saved at the inn last December, plus our folks' Christmas checks."

Looking at the price on the tickets, Ian said, "As long as we brown-bag it at school for the next few weeks."

Quinn nodded. "Sure. I hadn't even thought of a winter cruise, until I saw a poster for the Valentine's Weekend sailing at that travel agency downtown. Open to everyone." Quinn winked...

...And Ian winked back merrily. "It is 2009, after all," he drawled. "What a wonderful way to spend the holiday. Can't wait."

"Me, too." Quinn chuckled. "I've already talked to the Changs and they've offered to take Artoo and Sandy."

"I bet the pups will have fun with their little grandson." Ian grinned.

Quinn nodded. "We're lucky Valentine's Day is on a Saturday this year. We sail up the Hudson on Friday after classes, and we'll be back by Sunday mornin'. Plenty of time to prepare our Monday lectures."

"Perfect."

Their ship, The Winter Star, was much smaller than they were used to from their Caribbean cruises, holding only a few hundred passengers, rather than thousands. But their stateroom was large enough to fit the equivalent of a king-sized bed, once the two mattresses were pushed together, one nightstand, and a desk. Closets were built into the walls leading to the bathroom.

Fresh from the muster, Quinn whistled as he hung their tuxes side by side. He had already attached the little shamrock and parrot to their lapels, daydreaming about the formal dances tonight and tomorrow, his laddie in his arms making him the proudest man on the ship.

Ian brushed Quinn's side with a little bump of his hips as he put handfuls of underwear on the shelves. "Best Valentine's gift ever." He turned to give Quinn a kiss befitting that gift.

"I'm looking forward to dinner and dancing with you, laddie," Quinn said, nuzzling his whiskers into Ian's cheek.

"Nothing like dancing with my best guy." Ian kissed the side of his neck.

The engines started a low thrum that slowly increased in volume.

"We'd better start getting ready for the cocktail party," Quinn said, reluctantly releasing his lad.

"Yeah, it feels strange to be on a cruise in a sweatshirt and jeans." Ian grinned.

Quinn patted his back pocket. "And I like it."

They hadn't forgotten their cruise choreography, so Quinn took the first shower, while Ian finished unpacking. By the time Ian was clean, Quinn had put on his tuxedo, looking spiffy. He'd left the bowtie for Ian to knot, preferably while still in his towel.

Luckily, Ian knew just what his husband wanted. Somehow, he managed not to drip on Quinn's tux, while cozying up to him less than a whisker away. A droplet slid down Quinn's hand, though, and Ian licked it off with a grin. The coarse grain of his towel rasped deliciously against soft wool.

Quinn's eyes closed, waiting for his kiss. Ah, the feel of damp fingers on his cheek, while the other hand tilted his chin down. That one-of-a-kind mouth! The soft press of Ian's generous lips to his own made Quinn moan.

Ian moaned, too. His ever-hardening cock rubbed against the towel, against *Quinn*, without his volition. He just couldn't stop.

Quinn opened his eyes at that needy sound, at the amazing feel of Ian grinding off against him. In a split-second decision, he pushed Ian down on their bed and ripped the towel away. His lad's erection was redder than usual, rubbed raw by friction. Most of his pre-come had been absorbed by the towel. Quinn decided to use his mouth instead of his hands to pleasure him, to soothe Ian's abraded flesh with his saliva. Kneeling by the bed, he kissed the tip first, startled when Ian shouted his name.

Quinn spared a second to hope their neighbors had not returned yet, then went nose to head with the needy cock in front of him. Thankful that his mouth was as big as the rest of him, he took Ian in, careful to keep his teeth away from tender skin. His own interested cock pushed into the side of the bed, but he concentrated on Ian, not on himself.

Right hand tangling in Quinn's hair, Ian bucked up into his mouth, hard. He wanted to come now.

Quinn knew every spot to make it happen. Soft suction on the glans made Ian cry out again, while digging his tongue into the slit had Ian wriggling into the blanket, begging incoherently. More pre-come oozed out and Quinn mixed it with his saliva to coat Ian to the root.

Ian gasped and tightened his fingers in Quinn's hair. The little dabs of his husband's tongue along his shaft were making him shake. He couldn't take much more of this.

Quinn sensed it, letting his teeth graze the vein on the underside, until Ian lost it in fine fashion, coming into his mouth with a deep groan. Grabbing the towel, Quinn wiped up the drips on his cheeks and chin before they could fall onto his tuxedo. He smiled into Ian's thigh when he felt his lad's fingers relax and let go of his hair.

They just stayed there, taking deep breaths, for a long moment.

"Man, almost six years and the honeymoon's still not over," Ian said, gratitude heavy in his words.

"Can't imagine it ever will be, lad."

Ian finally focused on Quinn kneeling there beside him, still managing to look crisp in his tux. "Want something, handsome?" He sat up to run a finger over Quinn's half-hard cock.

Quinn shook his head. "I'm good until bedtime. I'd better clean up a bit before we go, though. If you hadn't taken the edge off this mornin'..."

"Can't wait for tonight," Ian said, gazing at Quinn's open collar longingly. "Hey, I still haven't done your bowtie." His chuckles became laughter when Quinn joined in.

Quinn pulled him out of bed for a kiss that was an exquisite blend of their flavors, then gently turned him towards the bathroom. "You could do with another wash, lad." He handed him the kit bag, which held toothbrushes, deodorant, and shaver.

When they were both showered and dressed, they tried to concentrate on knotting each other's bowties, but snickers occasionally erupted when they thought of how it had ended up before. They still managed to do a creditable job, and looked sharp for their night of romance.

Just before opening the door, Ian looked back on their cabin and grinned. "No more pulling the beds apart."

"Never again, laddie." Quinn's satisfaction shone in his eyes.

As they stepped into the ship's corridor, Ian realized that tuxedos, with their long-sleeved shirts and jackets, were even more suited to wintertime parties than summer sailing. He was comfortably warm, despite the slight chill in the air.

They made their way amidships, towards the atrium, where there was a party in full swing. Cocktail hour was a return to an age of elegance, the ladies in their colorful gowns, the gents in their dinner jackets and ties. Slipping gracefully through the crowd, Ian spotted an empty loveseat for them to colonize. An elderly woman at the piano played Handel's 'Water Music' as a passing waiter handed them whiskey sours from his tray.

"This is nice," Ian said, sipping his drink.

"Very enjoyable," agreed Quinn, relaxing into the cushions. "I wonder if they have mini-hotdogs."

Ian grinned indulgently. "Some things never change."

Quinn grinned back. "Well, I need something with my drink."

No franks this time, but Quinn was assuaged with tyropitas, meatballs, and stuffed mushrooms.

"Lucky you're a Brandybuck, lad. The only clan that likes to sail." Quinn couldn't resist teasing Ian, not when it brought out the most adorable grin.

"Ah, Master Burrows, I think I've convinced you that sailing is a delightful pastime?"

"You could convince me boxing is a delightful pastime, laddie." Quinn snorted.

Ian pressed his tuxedo-striped leg into Quinn's on the couch until the ship's bells called them to dinner.

The Coral Dining Room, in deference to the holiday, held mostly tables for two. As they approached, they heard the click of a camera and smiled for the photographer as they entered. Ian grinned when they were handed two red roses as boutonnieres along with their menus, and given a table by an ice sculpture of Cupid. Just like their tuxes, the ice seemed more appropriate in February than it ever had in June. White and red roses surrounded the balloon centerpiece, a white mylar heart.

"Mmm. They're really going all out with the menu," Ian said appreciatively. "Think I'll have the lobster tail." He winked at Quinn, knowing he'd realize the significance of his choice.

Quinn winked back merrily, recalling their lobster dinner at Larson's so long ago. "Still remember our first date in Mossley, do you, laddie?"

"How could I ever forget?" Ian smiled reminiscently.

Quinn's eyes crinkled. "I'll have the lobster, too, lad."

After bringing them water and a basket of assorted rolls, the server took their orders. Then they clinked their glasses, looking forward to the champagne to come on Valentine's night.

The band by the dance floor started to play 'Come What May'. Ian held out his hand, and Quinn grabbed it eagerly. He pulled Quinn into his arms, chin on his shoulder. Moving his hips as only he could, Ian began gliding Quinn over their little corner of the floor. He leaned into Quinn's warmth, keenly aware of big hands on his shoulder and waist.

Quinn loved having Ian wrapped around him, a rare sensation in public. He sank into the dance as easily as into a kata at home. Somehow, although there were couples dancing a few feet away, he was in his own magical little world with Ian, the spell only broken when the song ended.

By the time they got back to the table, their salads were waiting for them. Lime vinaigrette added just the tart taste the baby greens needed.

"We should do this more often, laddie," Quinn said, still a bit flushed from the dance.

Ian nodded. "Good idea. It's so much fun."

"Wonder if it'll be all slow dances, thanks to the holiday." Quinn sipped his water.

Ian sighed. "Oh, I hope not. We need to get out there and *move*."

Their entrees arrived and both of them exiled their drawn butter to the side, just as they had at Larson's so long ago. They ate slowly, savoring the delectable flavor. The band played incidental music for half an hour, letting the couples enjoy dinner.

Ian's wish for more vigorous dancing was answered when the band started playing 'In the Navy'. By the time the guitarist had strummed the third chord, Ian had dragged Quinn to the dance floor where they stomped and clapped and strutted with the best of them. Being part of a sea of people made it all the more satisfying.

Both of them were breathing hard now. Luckily, the waiter had refilled their water glasses, just what they needed after a good stomp.

Ian beamed. "Now that has the juices flowing."

Quinn knew better than to answer that comment in public, so he contented himself with nodding into his glass.

"Think they'll play 'Macho Man'?" Ian asked with a grin.

"Not the right crowd, lad," said Quinn, grinning right back.

Their server threaded through dancers to bring them chocolate mousse, a dessert clearly meant to be shared, with its extravagant whipped cream and hot fudge presentation. They dug in happily, hungry once more after their vigorous dancing. Ian felt free to be a little more creative with the whipped cream than usual, but Quinn was prepared for it on this couples' night. When Ian got some on his lower lip, Quinn gave him a secret smile and counted the minutes until bedtime.

After dinner, they headed over to the theater for the show. The orchestra was already full, so they had to find seats in the balcony. Quinn hunkered down into his seat to give the lady behind him a better view. He was looking forward to seeing the play, Anything Goes, a love story set on a ship. Although he was not usually a fan of musicals, this particular one brought fond memories. He and his parents had seen the legendary Ann Miller perform near the end of her career, and he'd never forgotten her boundless enthusiasm.

Quinn took Ian's hand when 'I Get a Kick Out of You' started, and didn't let go until the intermission. The energy of the young cast could have powered the ship. Energized themselves, they decided to take a stroll on deck. The night air was bracing after the perfume and aftershave overload in the theater.

Only a few other couples were outside, and they took advantage of it by standing near the rail with their arms around each other. A few hours out from the city, and they were in a rural world of water, trees, and grass. The breeze blew their hair together as Ian snuggled into Quinn's side. The hush was just what they needed after an hour of all-out singing and dancing.

Ian tried to see the time in the dim light and barely made out that 12 minutes had passed. Reluctantly, he turned them back to the theater. The house lights went down a few minutes later, and they were engrossed once more in the comic adventures of 'dames at sea' and their fellas.

After the final chord, they stood and applauded with the rest of the crowd. They ambled over to their stateroom on Deck 7, leaving their shoes by the door. Both took off their jackets and slacks, then hung them up immediately. They'd need them ship-shape for Valentine's Day itself. Quinn plucked the roses off and put them into a glass full of water on the desk. Their turndown for the night had been done, and the beds were still together, now with heart-shaped chocolates on their pillows.

Quinn chuckled. "A bit over-the-top, but after so many years without this, I can't help but enjoy it."

"I know just what you mean." Ian unwrapped the heart from his pillow and fed it to a blissful Quinn, who sat on the side of the bed, pulling Ian into his lap and kissing him soundly.

"Talk about a chocolate kiss," Ian quipped.

Quinn reached over to snag the candy on his own pillow and held it for Ian to nibble. Then he licked his laddie's lips. "Delicious." He kissed his dimple while undoing his bowtie, just as Ian unknotted his own. Quinn's hands fumbled over the tuxedo studs, which were harder to unfasten than ordinary buttons, especially for thick fingers.

The skin newly exposed was worth it, however. Big hands played over Ian's chest as a big smile bloomed on Quinn's face. He dipped his fingers under the waistband of his lad's underwear to pet neglected skin, and felt Ian's little shiver. His fingers teased tempting small sounds out of Ian as he let the fabric of his shirt caress them both.

Green eyes sparkled down at him. "Getting an early start on the holiday?"

"Getting a late start on this afternoon," Quinn rumbled, delighted when Ian pushed him back onto the bed. He landed on his back with an armful of wriggling laddie on top of him.

"Ah, I see acceleration's clearly in order." Ian snuggled into a comfortable position, his knee between Quinn's legs caressing a growing erection. He nuzzled Quinn's chest, running the tip of his nose from nipple to nipple. Unable to reach Quinn's mouth like this, he knelt, still pressing into his husband's cock, to give Quinn a scintillating kiss. Slipping his hand into the pouch of Quinn's boxer-briefs, Ian gave a loving squeeze to the plump shaft waiting for him and pulled it out to play with.

Quinn felt pre-come well up on the tip and closed his eyes when Ian dipped his thumb in it. His laddie finger-painted his length in sticky streaks, and all he could do was moan. He felt as if he'd been hard for hours, not surprising after his decision to wait until tonight.

Ian could taste his herven's urgency when he used his tongue for painting, as well. Generous strokes made their way down Quinn's chin to his neck and across his shoulders and chest. Now he could feel as well as hear his husband's gasps.

Quinn curled his fingers in Ian's hair to pull him downward. "Please!"

Ian made short work of painting Quinn's stomach, unable to ignore his plea. Forgoing Rothko precision, his lines became erratic as he licked his way down, only to be butted by a very needy cock that had waited hours for his touch. Ian kissed the tip, then sucked on the head hungrily. After all, he had been waiting for this, too.

Quinn groaned, trying to hold back his orgasm, trying to get more of his laddie's marvelous mouth. His hips were almost as nimble as Ian's and bucked wildly.

Ian relaxed his throat, and tried to give him as much heat and slickness as he could. His jaw ached, especially when Quinn grew thicker as he was about to come.

"Ian!" gusted through the cabin when Quinn spurted into his lad's mouth.

Ian frantically reached for his own cock, which had pushed out of its pouch and was boring its way into the sheet. He stroked it firmly while suckling the last drops from his husband. Pre-come eased the friction, a welcome balm after his earlier irritation. He came into his hand, splashing a bit onto Quinn's calf and the sheet.

Quinn grunted as he slid over so that Ian could lie down beside him. He gathered him under his arm and they just lay there, relaxing.

"Wow! That was worth waiting for, laddie." Quinn kissed Ian's tousled hair. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Ian said, licking his fingers. "Literally." He wiggled out of his boxer-briefs and used them to clean up. Throwing them to the carpet, he pulled the covers over them.

Quinn reached to turn out the bedside lamp, then snugged his lad even closer for the night.

For a moment, Ian wondered why their bedroom was moving, but remembered where he was as he gradually awakened. At least his pillow was familiar -- Quinn's chest was its usual combination of soft skin over strong muscle.

Blue eyes sparkled open above Ian. "Mornin', laddie."

Ian stretched up for their first kiss of the day. "Mmm. Now that's the way to start Valentine's Day."

"None better." Quinn smiled. "Can't believe how far we've come. A few years back, we wouldn't even have gone out to dinner together."

Ian nodded into Quinn's nipple. "I know. And here we are on a couples cruise, looking forward to a night of champagne and dancing."

Quinn's stomach gurgled. "And a morning of lox and cream cheese," he quipped.

"That, too." Ian grinned as he got up and offered a hand to his husband. He used the facilities, brushed his teeth, and shaved while Quinn was in the shower, then took his turn in the little cubicle. Dressed in a pullover and slacks, he was ready to go.

Quinn checked the sheets, making sure Ian had wiped away all traces of their lovemaking. Then they headed out for the breakfast buffet in the Lido Deck's indoor dining room. It was crowded and all the window tables were taken, so they found seats near the center of the room. At least they could still see the Hudson River as they ate. Bagels, papaya, and orange juice made the perfect meal. The water was blue-grey in the morning light, the land a blur of green.

Ian picked up a placard with a listing of the day's activities. Chess and Scrabble tournaments, a reading of Browning's poems, an art auction, a few showings of Moulin Rouge in the movie theater, swimming and massages in the indoor spa. The only activities missing were, of course, outdoor swimming, sunbathing, and deck sports like volleyball. Most of the action took place inside anyway.

Ian sipped his juice. "Let's check out our photos after this. Wonder if they came out all right?"

"Oh, lad, you can't take a bad picture." Quinn patted his hand.

Ian blushed. Quinn's compliments still went straight to his cheeks.

When they finished eating, they strolled to the atrium gallery to look for their photographs. It took a few minutes to find theirs in the sea of happy faces. They were delighted to see so many pairs of women and men smiling back at them. Ian's sweet grin had a way of standing out, though, and Quinn was drawn to it like a beacon. When he pointed it out to Ian, Quinn was oblivious to his own heart-melting smile, which Ian noticed right away.

They ordered a few prints, then ambled over to the ship's library to borrow some books. Taking the glass elevator to the Antares Lounge, they chose a sofa with an unobstructed view of the water and settled in to read Updike and Cheever, though Roald Dahl would have been more appropriate. Ian's head found a home on Quinn's shoulder, and they just drifted an hour away.

"How 'bout a swim, lad?" Quinn whispered into his hair.

"That would mean we have to get up," Ian said with a sigh. Quinn's warmth and the water had all but lulled him to sleep.

"Okay, let's relax a bit longer." Quinn sprawled even more comfortably, with Ian snuggled up tight against him.

The additional rest was just what they needed, and a swim sounded good half an hour later. They got up and walked past the bar, waving at an elderly male couple heading for their former seats. At the elevator, they exchanged a glance that they didn't need to be mind-readers to understand -- That's us in 40 years.

They headed down the corridor to their cabin to use the facilities before they changed into their swim trunks, aqua shoes, and robes. The indoor pool was on the Spa Deck and had a lot of people playing in it. They put their towels on lounges and waded into the water, making for an uncrowded section. Water jets pulsed from the walls and floor every few feet for a spray massage.

They lolled in the water, arms on the stone ledge of the pool. Letting their legs drift, their thoughts drifted, too. Ian pondered his research on Marlowe for his upcoming lecture on 'Edward II'. Quinn grinned at the squabbles of the textbook committee over which edition of Moby-Dick to use next fall.

When the pool had cleared out enough for laps, they raced across to the other side, Quinn edging Ian out by a whisker. Of course, Ian could not let that go unanswered, prompting a series of races, until the tally stood 5-4 in Quinn's favor. If not for the pool clock, they would have missed lunch. Time just disappeared when they were swimming.

They dried themselves perfunctorily, then put on their robes and headed back to their stateroom. Already used to consecutive showers, they shared the little bathroom with no fuss and put on the clothes they'd worn that morning. They decided to eat at a charming pub they'd discovered by the library. Tiny booths snugged against the walls, the upholstery the blue of the river.

Quinn ordered two pints of Guinness when they were seated. Bangers and mash was the obvious choice for lunch, Valentine's Day the obvious excuse for their dietary lapse.

"An unexpected pleasure, laddie." Quinn clinked mugs with Ian.

Ian nodded. "Yeah, it's cool when they have these little exotic places to eat. One of my favorite meals on our last cruise was at The Cantina."

Quinn smiled reminiscently. "I liked their jazz band."

When their food arrived, Quinn spared a moment to be grateful for his roomy slacks and the empty booths around them. Though Ian was being good, taking small bites of sausage without so much as winking, he was such a sensual lad by nature that Quinn couldn't help his natural response. He envied each dab of creamy mustard on each morsel of meat.

Quinn tried to concentrate on his own meal and that helped quiet his libido. Ian did his part by remembering not to reach for his hand or touch knees under the table. He kept up a light conversation, which distracted Quinn even more.

Ian sipped his stout. "If we finish up here soon, we should have just enough time to make it to 'Moulin Rouge'." They had seen the film on their first cruise in 2004, but there were so many madcap moments, Ian reflected, that he looked forward to discovering what he'd missed.

"We should skip dessert anyway. They're sure to have an elaborate feast waiting for us at dinner." Quinn caught the waiter's eye and gave the man their cabin number when he came over.

The movie theater was half full when they ambled in, so they were able to get seats on the aisle. Quinn felt like he was visiting an old friend when he first saw Christian on the big screen. He admired his 'everything for love' spirit, so like that of his own young man. When Satine and Christian sang 'Come What May', Quinn squeezed his laddie's hand, thinking of their dance last night.

Ian squeezed back, thinking the same thing. He knew he was lucky in love, brought home to him by the film, the cruise, and most of all the man beside him.

After the movie, they got cardigans from their stateroom and strolled on Deck 10. The temperature was finally in the 50s, after months in the deep freeze. There was something about Valentine's Day conducive to thawing.

The air was sun-scented, the breeze was cool, the men were in love. Perfect.

They strolled arm in arm for about an hour, then headed inside to the Game Room to play Scrabble. The tournament would be in a few hours, but they decided to sit it out because of their expertise. Somehow English professors participating in an amateur competition didn't seem fair.

They were used to their deluxe Scrabble at home, with niches for every letter, to keep them from sliding. A necessity with Sandy and Artoo romping around. Here on the cruise, where the letters were even more likely to slide, of course they had the no-frills game.

Quinn said, "How 'bout using nautical terms to make it interesting?"

"Sounds like fun," Ian replied.

There were a few missing letters, which made it even more challenging. But they were at the top of their games now. Ian smiled cockily when he slapped down 'galleys', with its 50 point bonus, while Quinn was particularly proud of 'sextants', his own 50-pointer, using Ian's 's'. Plural words were quite a gift to the Scrabble-hound.

By the time Ian won the game, it was time to get ready for their formal evening. They walked back to their stateroom, where their bed had been turned down for the night already. Deciding to save the chocolate hearts for after dinner, Quinn put them on the desk, along with their key cards. He let Ian take the first shower, while he thumbed through his borrowed copy of 'The Wapshot Scandal'.

When Ian came out in his towel, their eyes locked, both of them thinking of Ian's wild orgasm yesterday. But the ship's bells dispelled any ideas of a repeat performance, at least before dinner. Quinn hurried into the bathroom, determined to be there on time. He had to use the sink soap for his shower, since the other bar was down to a nub and didn't stand a chance of getting his big body clean.

Ian was putting the finishing touches on his bowtie when Quinn came in. He took out underwear and socks for Quinn, then got his tux from the closet while his husband was putting them on. They both wore new shirts tonight, since yesterday's were unwearable, their come stains not easily hand-washed, as they knew from years of happy experience.

Helping Quinn into his jacket, Ian couldn't resist giving him a hug. He combed his hair, while Quinn knotted his bowtie, then handed the comb to Quinn. Ian closed the door behind them at precisely six o' clock.

They were rewarded with seats in the Sunset Lounge with a good view of the glistening river. Couples kept streaming in until a hostess diverted them to the atrium. The band had taken over the corner by the bar and had hit their groove. Jazz was the lingua franca here, and went down smooth with their Glenfiddich. Now was the time to relax.

A passing waiter offered them appetizers, so Quinn finally got his mini-hotdogs, and this after a lunch of bangers. Sticking his toothpick in with glee, he managed to get four on his plate before the fellow escaped.

Ian chuckled. "Guess he's not used to big eaters."

Quinn winked and sipped his scotch, sitting back on the couch. "I'll try to leave some room for dinner."

"You know what Master Yodama has to say about that," Ian said merrily.

"Lucky he's not here then, innit, laddie?" Quinn matched his lad's sparkling tone.

The promise of dinner finally won out over the mesmerizing music, and they headed for the Coral Dining Room. This time, they were seated next to an ice sculpture of a penguin.

"Talk about looking dapper in a tux." Ian grinned.

"He's not the only one, lad." Quinn looked him over appreciatively.

When the waiter brought their complimentary champagne, Ian was glad he'd had only two fingers of scotch. Their toast, a quiet but triumphant "To us," brightened the air around them with happiness. They clinked their flutes and took the first sips. The bubbles tickled their noses delightfully, which made them laugh.

If possible, the menu even outdid last night's. They decided on shrimp cocktail and Beef Wellington, and sat back to enjoy the dance band.

Quinn smiled when they started playing 'At Last'. "Ah, fresh from the Inauguration." He got up and held his hand out.

Ian happily took it and they strolled to the crowded dance floor. They swayed to the sultry music as if they were the only couple out there, and the band were playing just for them. There was something about being in each other's arms that did that to them.

Quinn rested his head gently upon copper hair, strands tickling his nose teasingly, just like the champagne. He relaxed into the Moment, into Ian.

Ian hummed along with the music as he rocked in his husband's arms. This was his favorite place to be in the galaxy.

When they got back to the table, their shrimp was already there. The cocktail sauce was made tastier with a splash of white wine, and they tucked in with enthusiasm.

"Wonder if they'd play 'Moon River' if we asked." Ian sipped his water. That was their wedding dance and held a special place in his heart.

"It's worth a try, lad." Quinn finished eating and got up to talk with the bandleader.

When Ian saw both of them nodding, he grinned. His husband was quite the diplomat. "Thank you," he said as Quinn sat down with a smile.

"They'll play it for us after dinner. I'm looking forward to it, my indor." (groom) Quinn put his napkin back on his lap.

Ian's grin widened. "So am I, love."

The waiter brought over Beef Wellington for two. The combination of puff pastry, pate, and filet mignon was truly ambrosial. They ate slowly, savoring each bite, dabbing it in the red wine reduction sauce and mixing it with their vegetables.

"Delicious!" Quinn said, blue eyes gleaming.

Ian nodded, delighted by his husband's obvious enjoyment.

True to the bandleader's word, about ten minutes after they finished eating, the first notes of 'Moon River' wafted through the dining room. They rose as one and strolled to the dance floor hand in hand. All of a sudden, they were back at Roma, newlyweds once more.

Quinn still remembered his possessive pride when Ian melted into his arms on their wedding day. He didn't think he'd ever smiled that much in his life.

Ian still remembered his possessive pride when Quinn took him into his arms. One look in Quinn's eyes, and he was lost to everything else.

Here and now, Quinn held Ian tenderly, a man in love. And Ian held Quinn just the same. They moved to the haunting music as one in body, mind, and heart.

Long after the music faded, they stayed in each other's arms. A kiss of foreheads, then they returned to their table, beaming. Vanilla layer cake awaited them, and they ate it as sensually as they had danced.

When Ian's feet turned toward their cabin, instead of to the theater for that night's show, Quinn's eyes grew even brighter. Ian slapped the 'Do Not Disturb' magnet on the door, and bolted it with a satisfying thunk.

"Better get out of these now before we ruin them," Ian said, voice impossibly low.

They forced themselves to hang up their shirts and tuxedos, after kicking off their shoes. Only boxer-briefs and socks were between them now. Quinn pulled Ian to him by the waistband and kissed him deeply, while dragging his lad's underwear down carefully over his rising cock. It fell to the floor, with a wiggle of lithe hips, and Ian stepped out of it.

Ian reached up for another kiss, hands delving under Quinn's waistband to cup his buttocks.

Quinn groaned and thrust into Ian's stomach, his erection pushing into cotton, pushing into Ian's bare skin. Ian pulled the underwear down in back, while Quinn looped a finger over the front and tugged out over his cock. He kicked the boxer briefs out of the way impatiently.

Finally, they were both skin to skin.

Ian didn't have time to see if the bed was turned down, Quinn pushed him onto the mattress so fast. They kissed and kissed, visiting foreheads, cheeks, noses, and chins, but always coming home to hungry lips. Ian began mouthing broad shoulders, while Quinn nuzzled his neck.

Quinn moved on down his lad's body, his cock and testicles bumping their way along a varied skinscape. When Quinn tasted the dance-sweat from Ian's chest, he wasn't surprised that it was better than anything he'd had for dinner. He suckled the inside of Ian's left elbow just to hear that ticklish yelp he so loved. He licked his own pre-come off Ian's thigh, then ran a finger over his stomach to get a taste of Ian's. His moan harmonized with his laddie's.

Ian pulled him back up by the arms, "Need ya," he panted.

Quinn aligned their cocks for maximum contact and started to thrust. They found their rhythm as quickly as they had on the dance floor. Quinn got onto his elbows to lessen his weight on Ian, with the familiar benefit of reaching Ian's lips easier for kisses. Picking up speed in spite of themselves, they danced towards orgasm. When Quinn slid his big hand between them and grabbed both cocks in a sure grip, Ian's gasp was desperate. A few strokes and they were coming helplessly, their grunts heavy in the air.

Quinn stayed on top of Ian, held there by his laddie's strong arms. Despite the semen, despite the sweat, despite the weight, this was just where they both wanted to be on Valentine's Day.