Page 18 of The Night Belongs To Lovers

Despite the healthy after-hours crowd, the place felt quieter than usual. When the waiter approached the table, Corey ordered a bottle of the restaurant’s finest house wine—red, naturally, though he knew he would not be imbibing any. He liked the rich colour.

Christian asked for a light beer.

Really? Did you want a platter of wings, too?Corey psychically suggested the young man disregard his desire for beer in favour of wine. Christian immediately called back the waiter and cancelled his order. It was manipulative, yes, but harmless, and Corey figured it would not kill the guy to elevate his palate. Especially as it would come through the blood during feeding, allowing the god to experience the flavour. “You’ll love the wine here, trust me.”

Christian was practicallybeaming—at Corey, at the menu, at the entirety of the establishment as he gazed around the place with wide-eyed fascination.

Corey sensed the man had little experience with big cities and even less with dating. Again, the god found the mortal’s youthful exuberance adorable and not wholly unexpected, as his reaction to his stripping had revealed earlier.

“So why were you looking for me after my set, Christian? You waited a long time.”

“Because I wanted to meet you, talk with you. Maybe even get—ah—oh fuck it! I was hoping for a private dance. I loved your performance. I mean—wow! And it seemed like—well, like you were dancing just for me.”

Corey snickered playfully, unable to help himself. “Perhaps I was.”

“I knew it! The way you moved was so suggestive. I’d never been to a strip club before, but I was excited by the idea of it. I didn’t have the nerve to go by myself. When my housemates suddenly suggested we come downtown to this club, I couldn’t get on the subway fast enough.”

“The mystery of the unknown? The desire to experience something taboo? How did it make you feel?” The god knew precisely how Christian felt from the heat of his blood coming through his skin and the hardness in his pants, but he wanted to hear him express it verbally. Words had the power to get him hot.

“I fucking loved it. Completely. I mean, it took hold of me and wouldn’t let go. Not the others, just you. You were amazing! My friends took me because they thought I’d enjoy it, my first time and all, and god damn, did I! I wish you’d have come out for a second act. That’s not too tacky to admit, is it? I mean, considering what that act was supposed to be. Oh fuck, am I coming off pervy?”

Corey rolled his eyes playfully, not in annoyance, and laughed heartily. “Not in the least. But even if you were, I had my asshole and cock out for the world to see tonight. I’m good with a little pervy.”

Christian winked flirtatiously, immediately appearing more at ease.

“It’s none of my business why you didn’t return anyway. I can’t see you being nervous about anything, though. Not after that performance, especially. But I guess cumming on stage is next-level shit. Anyway, like I said, it’s not my business. So, Corey, um—have you been doing it long? Exotic dancing, I mean?”

“Nope. Though it wasn’t amateur night, it was my first time. And I’d hardly call what I did exotic dancing, but thanks for endeavouring to elevate it. It was a dick-out, show-hole strip routine, and I’m completely okay with calling it that. It was an erotic avenue I wanted to explore. I like to try new things. It helps to conquer the potential monotony of an—of life.”

The god had nearly saidan immortal’s life, which would have confused Christian. Corey realized he had to get a grip on himself and be more lucid. As distracting as Christian’s Olympius-like beauty was, he needed to maintain control, continuing to direct the night’s adventure where he wanted it to go.

“Yeah, I can see that in you, Corey: an adventurer, a daredevil. You’re pretty amazing, you know. I can’t even begin to explain what I’m feeling right now. I must sound like such a dork to someone like you, someone so experienced. But I’m just going to say it—I wanted to take you right there on thefucking stage.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Christian looked blatantly shocked by the statement. The god, sporting a mischievous smile, saw the little wheels in the mortal’s head turning, and he wondered if the man was pondering if such an option was even permitted, let alone available to him. The idea was hot, no matter the permissibility.

Then, with a wicked grin, Christian replied, “Maybe because I knew you wouldn’t allow me to. At least not then, with a crowd of spectators. We had the connection but deserved an intimate setting—like starting there, building trust and closeness, andthenmoving elsewhere.”

He’s learning fast.Corey perceived these statements to mean that Christian understood who the captain of this ship was, the one in control. He was only allowed to experience Corey as far as he wanted him to.Yes, this mortal knows his place, and he’s playing the game surprisingly well.

The god deduced it was time to take this developing familiarity to another level and crank up the intensity of their discourse.

“Tell me who you are, Christian. Don’t be coy or subversive. And I’ll know if you’re lying to me.” Corey curled his lip and grinned as wide as the Cheshire Cat. “I have a talent for reading people.”

OLYMPIUS

The Past

OLYMPIUSgazed down upon the fierce battle with pure joy from atop a hill no grander than the next but away from the blood and gore. Antium was burning; the intense flames danced from the lowest structure to the tallest tower, illuminating the night sky. This was just the beginning of his campaign of revenge.

While he took stock of the brutality below him, weighing the pros and cons of the attack’s efficiency, the god had no desire to participate in the conflict actively. He would onlyinvolve himself should his power be needed, though that seemed unlikely. His forces were mighty.

And amid a warzone or not, Olympius preferred his garments to remain as clean as possible.

The god wore a Grecian-made tunic of silk damask, its colour black as pitch. Like his Maker before him, Olympius highly favoured the Greeks, especially their culture and language; unlike Coriolanus, he never used Roman nomenclature for his fellow immortals.

Olympius’ heavy wool cloak, also of Grecian design, was dyed a radiant blue and trimmed in gold and leopard skin; it was attached to the tunic by a polished silver brooch in the moon’s shape. The blue hue honoured the goddess who had aided him in his quest for freedom, while the brooch was originally a gift to Coeus from his twin, Phoebe, which Olympius appropriated and wore boldly.

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