In Character

By K.L. Noone

As happily married movie stars, Jason and Colby Kent-Mirelli spend a lot of time playing roles, taking on characters, and bringing scenes to life, together on screen and off. Fortunately, they enjoy their job, and they also enjoy some extra role-playing at home. Colby has a vivid imagination, and Jason loves making his husband’s fantasies come true.

Especially when pirates are involved. Or super spies. Or even a recreation of one of Jason’s own holiday-themed action-hero movies ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Dec 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685503246

K.L. Noone

K.L. Noone loves fantasy, romance, cats, far too sweet coffee, and happy endings! She is also the author of Port in a Storm and its upcoming sequel, available from Less Than Three Press, and numerous short romances with Ellora’s Cave and Circlet Press; her fantasy fiction has appeared in Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Sword and Sorceress anthologies. With her Professor Hat on, she teaches college students about Shakespeare and superhero comics, and has published academic articles and essays on Neil Gaiman’s adaptations of Beowulf, Welsh mythology in modern fantasy, and Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Pirates, At Home

So, boy. Jason Kent-Mirelli folded his arms. Mock-glared at his husband, half in character, half himself: the self who adored Colby Kent-Mirelli and the sheer fun of tossing Colby into bed, with every scenario that came out of Colby’s imagination plus Jason’s own tabletop roleplaying Game Master experience. You know who we are. What ship you’re on. You know what we do to stowaways.

Colby’d come up with this one. Or, to be fair, they’d both had the exact same idea, though Colby had said it first. Only a second or so first. Jason had been about to.

They’d been watching a fluffy very queer pirate-themed romantic comedy, a lazy movie night. Jason had said, "Now I sort of wish we’d filmed that one joke script that you and Ben wrote part of, for Steadfast, with the pirates and the kidnapping, and Colby had tipped his head up from cuddling against Jason’s chest and had slowly begun to smile: utterly wickedly mischievous. Had mused, grinning at Jason, Oh, I think we can manage that…oh, dear, you’ve caught me, I’m a runaway viscount and I’ve stowed away on your ship, you see…"

They’d jumped right in, after that.

Here in their bedroom, in the London flat they’d redecorated and renovated together, Colby assumed a winsome but determined expression, not backing down even when faced with an irate ship’s captain and—very shortly, in this scenario—a future involving himself servicing that captain in bed. His hands were loosely tied with a glittery gauzy grey scarf that was valiantly pretending to be piratical rope, and he retorted, Of course I know who you are, Captain; do you think I’d chosen just any ship at random? I know you’re not likely to return to England for months, I know exactly how much illegal rum you’re smuggling, and I know you have a certain reputation—

Do you? Jason stepped closer. Put a hand in Colby’s hair. Coiled fingers around luxurious dark strands, not gently. Colby gasped, but his follow-up lip-lick indicated pleasure, so Jason went on, low and dangerous, What reputation would that be, my little viscount?

Ah, so you know who I am.

Missing, they said. The day before we sailed. He tugged, not too hard, making Colby’s head tip back. They were in fact almost the same height, but Jason was maybe an inch taller and definitely wider. He knew Colby liked that fact, so he used it. We both know who you are. You were trying to get away.

I was.

From what?

Does it matter?

It might. Will someone come looking for you?

No. Well, possibly. Colby swallowed, an elegant motion along the line of his throat; Jason, both as an annoyed pirate captain and an adoring husband, got distracted by the beauty of him. Bedroom light, liquid and curious as fictional cabin lamp-gleam, traced Colby’s eyebrow, cheekbone, the shape of his jaw. His shirt was white and flowing, and had a loose open neck. His skin was smooth and fair and tempting.

Colby added, because Jason hadn’t contributed yet, My uncle’s been trying to kill me for two years now, you see. He very nearly succeeded. He won’t care that I’m lost at sea or ravished by pirates, but he might send someone looking just to make sure it happens, you see.

And your birthday’s tomorrow, Jason said. More or less in character; but that was also part of the fun. Keeping up with Colby’s genius brain, which ran around and gathered up kaleidoscopic rainbow fantasies and then shared them with the world in award-winning screenplays and with Jason here at home. Jason had never previously had conversations about steampunk aeronautical engineer characters or mysterious astrolabes or treasure-maps as mildly kinky bedroom foreplay. He loved every word. Coming of age.

Yes.

"And you decided you would rather be ravished by pirates."

If it’s that or be poisoned at breakfast or crushed to death by a runaway carriage or shot during a supposed hunting accident, yes.

I could throw you off my ship right here. Miles from any shore you could swim to. If you can swim.

I can. You could.

You’re not scared.

Oh, I am. Petrified.

Are you?

I said—

You’re not scared enough. Jason set his hand on Colby’s throat this time. Leaned in and loomed: muscles and strength and menacing bulk, versus Colby’s more slender frame and big eyes and deliberately youthful rumpled hair. He also murmured, low, Still good?

Fine, Colby whispered back. I trust you. I’ll talk to you about cherries if I need you to stop, I remember.

Perfect. So…you’re not scared enough, I said. He tightened his grip. Just a little, but Colby clearly felt the pressure, eyes even wider, next breath possible but more difficult. Colby’s dick, Jason noticed, was absolutely up and hard and into this. Good to know, he thought, for the future.

The evening shimmered like stars over an ocean, on a creaking ship. The scene unfurled like a sail, catching a breeze.

They even owned a telescope and a sextant. Those were sitting out on the dresser, not exactly props, but conspiratorial company.

He eased the grip a fraction, not wanting to push too much. Colby enjoyed being ravished, plundered, dominated, all of that; but needed the plundering to progress with some care for old scars. They had their standard ground rules; Jason had asked about anything more specific, during the set-up they’d hastily established.

Colby had said yes to being tied up—only his wrists, and as usual something he could get out of if he really tried—and to being tossed into bed, and yes to a