Page 28 of The Night Belongs To Lovers

“Actually, they are natural.” At least, they were natural to his immortal form; the colours had appeared in his hair gradually over time quite inexplicably and remained. Olympius had them, too. Corey always wondered if they were a mark of being of Coeus’ bloodline. “Does having them make me a freak?”

“Not at all! They’re beautiful. They add to your other-worldly sexiness. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.Other-worldly.It does sound silly. You’re not an alien.”

“No, it’s cool. It’s a description I’ve heard before. I rather like it.”

Christian beamed, and that immediate, innocent reaction soothed the god. He no longer saw the mortal’s smile as a defence against awkward uncertainty; it was now a sign of appreciation and trust. Once the prey fully trusted the predator, the endgame was in play.

“Then there’s your personal style,” Christian stated, adding more evidence to support his vampire-goth comparison. “Skin-tightblackjeans, body-huggingblackshirt, and combat boots. I’m surprised you’re not wearing Doc-Martens. Combat boots seem more punk to me.

“The leather gloves throw me off a bit, as they come off as biker-dude, so considering the boots, maybe you’re going for a more industrial gothic look. And that style’s cool, especially the clothes. The music rips, too. I love Front Line Assembly and Skinny Puppy. Classics.

“I’m actually quite jealous. I wish I could be as bold and confident as you to wear such sexy stuff. Your clothes get me really hard. Your body in those painted-on jeans—I mean, fuck! They fit you like a second skin. When you danced in that other pair of pants, the vinyl ones, I could see the muscles in your legs and ass flex and move with the material. They fought for release yet simultaneously became one with the pants’ material. So fucking hot, man.

“And your muscular arms! I couldn’t keep my eyes off them at the club. They’re not too big and overly veiny, just perfect, toned, and lean. Christ, I could go on for days about how fucking hot you are!”

“So you like what you see?” the god asked bluntly.

“Man, I fucking love what I see. I’ve loved it from the moment you ignited on that stage. How do I even describe your presence back then without sounding corny? Supernatural? Utterly intoxicating? Mind-blowing? Words don’t do it justice. I wanted so much to be near you, touch you, and yes, definitely fuck you. I’m not ashamed to say it. All the guys back there wanted you. You were everything to me the minute I saw you.

“I can’t properly explain how I felt back at the club. All these sensations I’d never experienced before. Intense desire and lust. Big fucking surprise here, but I still feel that way—drawn to you.”

“Well, Michelangelo, you’ve painted a fascinating portrait of me. Of course, there are so many facets to my being you could never fully comprehend me, but the effort you show is superhuman. I commend you.”

Christian threw a hurt look Corey’s way. “Are you being sarcastic?” he asked, clearly insulted. “Are you making fun of me?” The young man felt foolish for waxing poetic about a man he barely knew.

“No, no, handsome, on the contrary,” the god assured. “You have an uncanny ability to combine vulgar slang with the most eloquent vocabulary. You describe me in ways that flatter me with poetry and taunt me with sexual innuendos. As you say—it’s fucking hot. You certainly are gifted. Tell me, what do you have planned for tomorrow morning?”

Upon hearing Corey’s joy and praise of him, Christian felt better about his actions and his loose tongue, but he still took a moment before answering. He needed to be sure he said the right thing and have it based on more than his current chaotic feelings. Was this thing between him and Corey real, and could it exist beyond this moment? Should it exist? Would it be a one-time wham bam, thank you, and scram thing? Was he brave enough to find out?

Finally, Christian answered the question. “Something with you, I hope. At least—waking up next to you?”

He was brave enough.

“Impudent thing, aren’t you?” Corey smirked, delighted by the response. “I like it. Go on and finish your glass of wine, and thenwe’ll get out of here. Finish mine, as well. I’m not feeling too thirsty—for wine tonight.”

“Sure, although let’s not go back to my place. You may find my roommates’ ruckus more than a tad obnoxious. And they’re nosey as fuck. Even at this late hour, most of them are probably still up. Grindr and the internet are both 24/7.” Christian snorted, amused by his sassiness.

The god employed his hypnoticwhisper, softly commanding the mortal to finish the entire bottle, wanting him to toss it back as though it might be the last taste on his tongue ever. “Just drink and don’t worry about anything except pleasure. I’ll take care of everything.”

Christian downed the two glasses of wine, then chugged the rest of the bottle without a second thought, ignoring the stunned glances from some of the other patrons.

Corey’s arousal for Christian grew as he watched the man swallow the dark liquid as soon as it entered his mouth. The delectably erotic action of the laryngeal prominence, the so-called “Adam’s Apple,” that up and down movement just under the skin, over and over until there was nothing of the liquid left to consume, captivated the god. He would be enjoying something quite similar soon enough.

Though the bill had yet to be requested from the server, indicating their desire to leave, Corey threw a large wad of cash on the table to cover the cost of the wine, along with a generous tip. In most places, he would leave without paying, telepathically erasing his patronage from the staff’s memories. Lucky for thisestablishment, he had grown fond of its ambience and liked supporting it monetarily.

He once even fed on the owner, a bearded, stocky, red-headed Scotsman with a beer-can cock and a fat, hairy ass. The bearish man had projected flirty, amorous energy toward the god one night, his mind expressing a desire to fuck.

So Corey had obliged, taking the guy against a brick wall behind the building after closing time to reward his boldness. His flavour was spicy, but experiencing the man’s darker memories left a sour taste in Corey’s mind, so to speak, that took a week to dissipate. No second helpings were ever had.

As Corey sensed his companion was about to get up from his seat, the god moved nearly as swiftly as Mercury himself; instantly, he was behind Christian’s chair, pulling it out for him. It was a small gesture, but it drew attention.

The god expected some nonplussed and disapproving stares concerning the chivalrous action, but he was pleasantly surprised to see only smiling, supportive diners, all charmed by the romanticism before them.

At first, the old-fashioned move, one generally reserved for women, weirded Christian out, but he soon relished the attention. He felt catered to and cherished, as if he were the only person in the world who mattered to Corey. And if others in the room, especially other men, considered the act demeaning, he could not have cared less—not with a considerate hunk like Corey interested in him.

Because he was so focused on his handsome date, Christian did not notice that no one acted judgmentally toward them in the least.

Taking the lead, the god walked out of the restaurant with Christian in tow, their hands clasped together; the night was calling.

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