Damon’s: King of Damon’s Sophia Titheniel All rights reserved. Copyright ©2010 Sophia Titheniel ISBN: 978-1-60521-272-2 Formats Available: HTML, Adobe PDF, MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader Publisher: Changeling Press LLC PO Box 1046 Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046 www.ChangelingPress.com Editor: Margaret Riley Cover Artist: Reneé George
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Damon’s: King of Damon’s Sophia Titheniel Summer Striptease -- does it get any better than this? Summer’s starting in the post-modern hip Los Angeles, and Elves and Humans alike line up outside of Damon’s to get tickets for the event of the season: the striptease contest, King of Damon’s. Hot, steamy, gorgeous creatures taking their clothes off. Endless possibilities to get laid. Does it get any better than this? Thomas doesn’t think so. Proud of his collection of notches on the bedpost, he enters the contest with no other goal than fuck his way through the rest of the contestants. His game comes to an abrupt halt, however, when he’s faced with his first rejection. Euriel is simply not interested… Or so he says. What does Euriel really want? Will Thomas be able to give it to him?
Chapter 1 “Do you know what day it is?” Alyan didn’t know what day it was. Actually, he didn’t want to know what time it was. He didn’t care what day it was because, come to think of it, it couldn’t be any day, because the day had not started. “Mfngh,” he muttered eloquently as bright, mean light was thrown in his face. “Alyan! Come on, it’s nearly 8 AM.” Alyan groaned and tried to shuffle deeper underneath the covers, clinging to the remains of sleep with all the stubbornness of an Elfling. The strong smell of coffee penetrated his sleep addled brain. Alyan sighed and rolled over, cracking one eye open and shooting the source of all the commotion a mean glare. “Morning, sunshine.” “Morning, asshole.” Alyan fumbled with the covers and tried to pull them over his head, but Damon wouldn’t have any of it. He yanked the sheet back and grinned at Alyan, thoroughly enjoying their little song and dance. Alyan thoroughly hated it. He actually hated anyone that could spring out of bed like they hadn’t worked ten hours straight the previous night and look just as beautiful as they would’ve looked after a weekend in a spa resort. And of course, Damon belonged to that category. Alyan hated him so much. For real. “Come on,” Damon ruffled Alyan’s hair and sat down on the bed, waving the hot coffee cup under his nose. “We have lots to do today.”
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“You should’ve thought of that before fucking me unconscious last night,” Alyan shot back, but he did grudgingly accept the coffee, downing it in one go and nearly choking on it when it scorched his throat. “Complain, complain.” Damon waited patiently as Alyan coughed and spluttered on his coffee. “That’s all you do.” “I don’t complain about the sex,” Alyan clarified. “I do complain about being tossed out of bed before the sun rises.” Damon silently and eloquently pointed at the bright light shining in the sky. “It’s a figure of speech. Whatever. I’m too tired to argue.” Damon leant in and kissed the frown off Alyan’s face, his hand running down Alyan’s cheek to his neck, thumb rubbing in the hollow of his throat. Alyan sighed and parted his lips, allowing Damon’s tongue to sneak past. There was a slow, dreamlike quality to their kiss, as though all the urgency from Damon’s wakeup call had melted away. Alyan sighed, struggling to keep his eyes open, drinking in the beauty of Damon’s face, the way his eyelashes fluttered on his high cheekbones, the pale tone of his skin, the gentle caress of his hair over the sides of his jaw. He was so stupidly handsome that Alyan almost couldn’t bear to stare at him. Damon’s fingertips skimmed down the sides of Alyan’s chest, dipping just below the waistband of his pants, finding warm skin. Alyan looped his other arm around Damon’s neck. Alyan tangled his hand into Damon’s hair, pulling him closer, suddenly much keener on being awake. “You taste like caramel,” Alyan whispered, dazed, his grin lopsided and warm. “Pancakes.” Damon kissed his lips again, shifting on the bed so that he could throw one leg over Alyan’s hips, straddling him -“Argh!” Hot, hot, hot hot hot hot motherfuckinghot!
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Coffee sprayed on the sheets, on Alyan’s chest and general crotch area -- and go with Alyan on this, okay? You don’t want hot beverages anywhere near that very vital section of an Elf’s body. Not if you want to get laid anytime in the next century, that is. “Oh, fuck -- fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m -- shit, that hurts -- I’m sorry --” Damon jumped on the spot, getting out of his stained PJs and trying to work in some damage control. Alyan merely sat with his face between his hands and slowly died of awkward. It had to be said -- everyone who thought Elves were that kind of cool, aplomb race? Well, they never met Alyan. He had a knack for working himself into embarrassing corners, and even after over a year and half spent living with Damon, his boyfriend’s cool did not rub off on him. Even if technically it had been Damon knocking into the coffee, it was Alyan’s cup, and it was Alyan who hadn’t a) put it down or b) finished it when he could. He was red hot all over, and when he felt the bed sink down with Damon’s weight, he barely dared to peer between his fingers to where Damon was sitting, smiling at him. “I’m such a klutz.” “No, you’re not. And it was my fault in the first place.” Alyan sighed. “You know you don’t have to say it --” “I’m not just saying it. I mean it. I knocked the cup over. I was swept up in the moment, one might say.” Damon pried Alyan’s hands off his face and kissed the joined fingertips with a smirk. Alyan felt his heart trip and fall, all over, for the beautiful creature in bed with him. He coughed and sort of looked down at their coffee-stained sheets, then back up in Damon’s still grinning face. “So. Um. What’s up? I mean, not -- you know, not… in a double entendre meaning or anything like that. I mean, just -- uh -- why did you wake me up?” “Hm? Oh, yes.” Damon bounced excitedly on the bed like a toddler, his grin widening. “Well, do you know what day it is today?”
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“Uhhh…” Alyan raked his brains for a couple of seconds, but came up with nothing. “Friday?” “Wrong! I mean, yes. It’s Friday. But that’s not what I was asking.” He bounced again. “It’s Summer Solstice!” Well, fuck. He had completely forgotten. Having lived amongst humans for so long, Alyan had grown accustomed to their celebrations much more than his own race’s traditions. “Oh,” was all he could say. “Yes, oh!” Damon rolled his eyes at him. “Come on. Grab a shower and get dressed. We’re gonna be leaving in five.” “Leaving? What -- where to?” “To the club, of course,” Damon quickly stole a kiss from his lips and bounced off the bed. “We have tons of shit to get ready.” Alyan stared at the spot from where Damon had disappeared for a moment before shrugging and finally getting out of bed. After the coffee incident, the least he could do was to go with the flow on this one. Something told him he would’ve known a lot more than he needed to know by the end of the morning anyway. Pointless to worry about that now.
*** Alyan had always liked going to Damon’s when the club was closed and no one else was around. In a way it reminded him of Damon himself, the way only Alyan got to see him. Without the glitter and the antics and the charming persona he put on to keep the club running at nights, just the bare bones of the Elf Alyan loved -- and the club itself was very similar. Without the flurry of patrons and the thumping of music and flashing lights and everything that went with it, Damon’s was solid walls and hard work. “You boys pull over for a quickie?” Alyan groaned and glared at Damon accusingly. Damon merely laughed and stepped up to hug Meredith, Alyan’s red-headed and mercurial sister. “Hey, beautiful. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
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“What do you have to be sorry for? Although I have to say, I don’t think you did a very thorough job on him. He still seems kinda testy.” “Why do we keep her around again?” “Because, dear brother, I am the marketing mind behind all of this shitznit.” Meredith threw her hair back and held a diva pose for a split second before turning back to Damon, all business. “Do you want to start the signup today? It might be a good idea. We should do a direct elimination round, like we did last year, so we weed out those who are just in for a dare and not for the real deal.” “Sounds good. Did you call Rivendell Center yet?” “Yes and we will have the tickets in a week, just in time for the finale --” “Do either of you care to fill me in with the details?” Alyan asked after a moment, feeling completely bemused at the words that kept flying over his head. “Sorry.” Damon looked properly chastised. “It’s something we do every year when the Summer Solstice begins. It’s a contest -- the King of Damon’s.” “Oh.” And now that Damon had said it, Alyan suddenly remembered. There were posters of past years’ winners lining up the walls to the upstairs bedrooms. Alyan had never spared it much thought, but then again his joining up Damon in the partnership at the club had been a fairly recent thing -- especially in Elven years. He wasn’t expected to know everything now, was he? “We run the contest for a week,” Damon explained as they walked toward the stage that was set up in the ballroom, the one usually used by the cage dancers. “Everyone can join up -- there’s a popular vote, pretty much by every single patron, and we eliminate a bunch of them every night.” “So wait -- this goes on every night?” “All other events get put on hold. There’s enough activity with the King contest. We can’t run anything else.” “The club will be packed,” Meredith grinned, “And all the rooms are booked. Would make no sense to have blind date night when everyone is perfectly happy to do that by themselves.”
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“I get it.” Alyan turned around and grinned at Damon. “So what -- they get to stand on stage and take off their clothes for fun?” Meredith giggled. “Not only fun.” “Okay, besides getting laid. What do they get?” “A weekend for two at the exclusive Rivendell Resort,” Damon put in helpfully. “We’ve done other packages during past years, but this one seems to get the best response.” “Sounds good.” Alyan had heard of that resort. It was a beautiful hotel in Santa Monica with a personal spa set on the ocean. He’d never been there, but the venue was known to be both exclusive and luxurious. Maybe he and Damon could go there at some point. Maybe when the contest was over they could leave Jesse to take care of the pub and just relax a little. They’d been running on near empty for the past… well, for a while now. Alyan couldn’t even remember the last time they’d had done something fun, just the two of them. Outside the bedroom, that is. Maybe it was time for a vacation… He realized he’d spaced out when Meredith snapped her fingers in front of him. “Earth to Alyan. Bro, still with us?” “Yeah. Yes. I mean, I’m here.” Meredith shook her head with an amused grin. “Doesn’t look like. In fact, it looks like you’re miles away from here. Perhaps in Rivendell?” Damon smiled at him and threw one arm over his shoulder. “Maybe we should make a trip down there, hm? Test it out, just to be sure we’re not handing our contestants any bullshit?” “Uh… well… I wasn’t suggesting -- but if you think --” “Absolutely,” Damon smacked his lips on Alyan’s cheek. “We can’t stay the whole weekend, but we can surely make it a one day trip.” “But -- the contest?” “Don’t worry about it,” Meredith cut in, a devilish look in her eye, “I’ll take care of ‘em.”
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Alyan shared a private look with Damon. A couple of days away to an A-list Spa sounded wonderful… but he knew how much Damon cared for the good of the club. And to be perfectly honest, he had no intention of leaving Meredith, ahem, “testing” the contestants without their supervision. “We could leave tomorrow.” Alyan looped his arms around Damon’s waist, a gleam in his eyes. “See who gets in tonight, and get back here to watch the second round of the contest.” Damon nodded, and he looked almost relieved. Alyan knew he would’ve put them before the club if push came to shove, but they were partners in more ways than one. Alyan knew Damon and his OCD needed to be present at every major event. Despite his good intentions, Alyan had an inkling there wouldn’t be much relaxing if the contest was happening without them. “Well then, you can pick up the tickets yourselves, save them the trouble of posting,” Meredith said, taking out her cell phone. “I’m going to call them now and let them know you’ll need a full one day treatment, okay?” “Sounds great.” Alyan turned in Damon’s arms and kissed him, lips moving slowly against one another. “Sounds fabulous.” Damon giggled, an honest-to-God giggle, and they kissed again. They kept kissing even when Meredith cleared her throat, and throughout the phone call she put in to the Rivendell Resort. Alyan broke the kiss and smiled. Suddenly, he was very glad Damon had woken him up that morning.
Chapter 2 Thomas stubbed out his cigarette on the ground, locked his car behind him and smiled at the queue of people lining up at Damon’s. He hadn’t been back to the club in a while. The one time he had gone back, he’d seen Alyan behind the bar, laughing, low and intimate, with Damon himself, and the scene sort of lost its attraction for him. It’s not like he was in love with Alyan or anything. Thomas didn’t do love -- but he did attraction, and he did pride. He didn’t like to be scorned in anything, and for a few months, he had avoided Damon’s club. Not for long, however. Turned out, there were very few places he could go to if he wanted the same kind of action he used to get at Damon’s. Thomas had been most dismayed. He tried everything, but at the end, he had to admit it. There was a reason why people queued in front of the place from six in the evening. So here he was. The King of Damon’s was the event of the year, according to pretty much every alpha male with a heartbeat, and Thomas wasn’t going to let it pass by. Especially not for an Elf who had rejected him. Grinning to himself, he shrugged on his leather jacket and stalked toward the entrance.
*** “Whoa.” There weren’t many other words Alyan could use to describe the turnout. Creatures of every race were flooding through the doors to sign up for the striptease contest, and even more were crowding around tables and barstools, ready to enjoy the show.
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“It’s great, isn’t it?” Meredith nearly yelled in his ear. Alyan grimaced and Jesse laughed as he twirled a bottle of vodka in the air before filling up a set of shot glasses in front of him. “It’s crazy,” Alyan admitted, eyes scanning the crowd. “I didn’t even know the club could hold this many people.” “It can’t.” Damon had sneaked past Alyan without him noticing, and he put his arm around Alyan’s hips with a cheeky smile. “We have, um, enhanced it for the week.” “Clever bit of magic, too, if I say so myself.” Meredith waved her arm around at the lights shining from every angle. “I don’t know how you always get away with it,” Alyan told his sister. “It’s a wonder we’re still at large.” “I know nothing.” Jesse shook his blond head with a blinding grin as he passed the customers their one shots. “I’m merely a human employee.” “If we go down for improper use of magic, we all go down together.” “It’s not magic,” Meredith retorted, “It’s merely an extension of our culture. We have every right to express our deepest roots and if they fine us for that, we’ll just open a lawsuit.” “A lawsuit?” “Racism against Elves, Burke VS State. Look it up.” Damon roared with laughter. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you two are related.” “Tell me about it.” Alyan groaned and hid his face in Damon’s chest, shoulders shaking with silent giggles. After about an hour or so, Meredith left them to go behind the scenes to organize those who had signed up for the first eliminatory round of the contest. Alyan wasn’t all that sure about leaving his sister alone with so many willing men, but Damon was incredibly persuasive, and when the kiss ended, Meredith was nowhere to be seen. Alyan sighed at the light in Damon’s eyes. “You really trust her with this, don’t you?”
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“She’s a good promoter,” Damon repeated for the umpteenth time. “And besides, it’s more fun if we just watch it happen.” “Fun as in ‘oh this is awesome’ fun, or as in ‘oh this is the train wreck I can’t stop’ fun?” Damon laughed again. “Relax, baby. She’s got it under control. It’s not the first time she’s done it.” Alyan rolled his eyes. He loved his sister, he really did, but he also knew her better than anyone. If it came to a choice between her getting laid and the contest running smoothly, well, it was a no-brainer. “A bourbon. Straight.” The voice stirred something funny in his stomach, and Alyan turned around to see who Damon was serving -And nearly had a heart attack right then and there. Damon insisted that most humans looked the same, but there was no mistaking this particular human. At least, Alyan knew he couldn’t. And let’s be honest here, it’s not like his string of one night stands was so impressive that he would mistake those eyes, or the cut of that jaw -- he remembered the carpet burns on his knees as those teeth sank into his shoulder, his body blanketing him from behind as he fucked Alyan across his own doorstep. “Alyan?” Shit. Shit shit shit, shit. “Um, nothing.” Way to be lame, dude. Damon gave him the concerned look, but before he could excuse himself, Thomas had turned around and fixed him with a predatory grin. “Hey, Alyan.” Damon frowned. “You know him?” “Uh, yeah. Sort of. I mean, I knew him. I mean, we’ve met.” When Damon kept staring at him, nonplussed, Alyan sighed and elaborated. “Here. I met him here.” Comprehension dawned in Damon’s eyes just as Thomas slid his stool closer to them, raising his glass as though toasting them. “Long time no see.”
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“Hi.” Alyan’s voice sounded foreign to his own ears, as though he was speaking from another time, a different place. “Um. How -- how have you been?” “Just great. As you have, I’m assuming.” “He has,” Damon cut in, a possessive hand on Alyan’s hip. “What brings you here…” “Thomas,” Thomas finished for him. “And I thought it was obvious.” He stretched his arm to indicate the myriad of people cluttering about the club. “You’re here for the contest, then?” Alyan asked, and he didn’t quite manage to keep the hopefulness out of his voice. Thomas’s smile sort of faltered. “Why, you’re not glad to see me?” “What would make you think he would be?” Thomas looked from Damon to Alyan, then to Jesse, who had stopped shaking a Martini and was looking over at the three of them with a raised eyebrow. Alyan found himself wishing, not for the first time in his life, that the floor would open up and swallow him whole. The awkwardness stretched on for a few seconds, but it might as well have been hours from where Alyan was standing. He hated to admit it, but for the first time in his secular life he was glad when Meredith popped up from behind the bar, an earpiece plugged in and a clipboard in her hands. “Thomas Klent? You’re first. Come on back, gorgeous.” Thomas smirked. He put a ten dollar bill down on the counter and downed the rest of his drink in one go. “Enjoy, darling.”
*** Damon watched Thomas go with disgust written so plainly on his face Alyan was worried he’d pull him out of the contest on principle. “So that’s your speed date?” Alyan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I -- well. Yeah?” Jesse pretended really hard he wasn’t listening in and went on mixing cocktails. “Bit scrawny.”
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“I didn’t notice,” Alyan muttered, looking down at his feet, the tips of his ears bright red. “You didn’t, did you?” “I was too preoccupied thinking whether you were thinking I was such a loser for not having a date.” Damon’s glare softened, and he had the good grace of looking sheepish. “Sorry,” he whispered as he leaned in to nuzzle the side of his neck. “Guess I haven’t got much room to talk, given my past relationships.” Alyan said nothing. He tried not to think about Damon’s previous relationships because he really didn’t know how he felt about them, and he kind of liked the not knowing part. Jealousy never looked good on him. Before they could further delve into that maybe-argument, the lights dimmed, the music slowed down to a stop, and a bright cone of light flashed on the stage. Meredith walked on it, looking completely at ease and relaxed as though she was born for it, enjoying the tumultuous applause from the eager crowd and bowing graciously before silencing them with a wave of her hand. “Gentlemen, you’ve all come together tonight to celebrate with us the hottest summer you’ll ever remember.” Applause. “And I’m not just talking about the weather.” More applause, laughter. “So without further ado, let’s give it up for the first round of this year’s King of Damon’s contestants!” Thomas strutted out on stage like he owned it. Alyan felt incredibly awkward watching him sway his hips as he positioned himself in the middle of the stage, his back to the dancing pole. He could feel Damon’s eyes burning holes through his skull and he bit his lip, picking up a washrag at random and starting to clean up the bar. The music started, some rock song Alyan hadn’t heard before. He tried to keep his eyes on the bar, looking indifferent, but at the first loud cheer he slipped and lifted his eyes, looking straight up into one of the monitors that were scattered around the club, broadcasting the show for every patron.
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Thomas had taken off his shirt. His broad chest was tanned and sprayed with glitter as he thrust his hips against the pole, his hand skimming down his own chest as he reached for his belt buckle. I’m gonna give you every inch of my love… The song continued as Thomas matched the lyrics move for move, getting increasingly wild cheers from the crowd. Alyan was pretty sure even the tips of his ears were red, and he could feel his knee burning with phantom bruises, and shame added to confusion and arousal. Fuck, what a mess. Thomas rolled his hips and slid the belt out of his loops, throwing it around his neck as he bowed his head back, his crotch straddling the pole. “He’s got good moves,” Damon’s voice whispered in his ear, and Alyan jumped as though bitten. “It’s nothing,” Alyan muttered, looking away again as the cheers grew louder. He didn’t dare check to see what Thomas was doing to generate such response. Not when Damon was looking at him hard enough to read his thoughts. “Was he good?” Alyan sighed. There was no way they wouldn’t be having this conversation, he supposed. “I don’t exactly remember,” he said as he threw down the washcloth and crossed his arms around his chest. “What I remember is how I couldn’t get out of here without a date because then you’d know just how big a loser I was. And the very next day I remember coming to you, right here, and -- well, I don’t remember anything before that. Only after.” Damon looked slightly chastised. He sighed and looked round to the stage. Thomas was rolling around against the pole, clad only in sinfully tight black Speedos as the guitar riff solo picked up in tempo. Alyan looked back at Damon, and his stomach jolted.
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“Do you want to watch the rest of it?” Damon asked, a forced casualness in his tone. There was only one good answer Alyan could give. “Not really.”
*** Thomas got off the stage, still running so high on adrenaline and rock music that he nearly knocked into someone getting ready to go on themselves. “Sorry,” Thomas said breathlessly, looking him up and down. The guy was most definitely an Elf. He wasn’t as tall as most, but what he lacked in height he made up for with the prettiest features Thomas had ever seen on anyone. His blonde hair was strangely fair, and it hung in waves on high cheekbones, glitter makeup highlighting his beautiful, beautiful grey eyes. “Not a problem,” the Elf said, glancing over at the stage. Suddenly Thomas was way more interested in hanging out backstage rather than fucking his way through the first row -- he’d seen them looking, basically drooling when he danced. He took his robe off the hook next to the dressing rooms and threw it on, leaving it carelessly open and smiling seductively at the Elf. “You’re up next?” “Not yet.” Thomas waited for him to elaborate, but after a moment it became apparent that it was all that Thomas would get out of him. Thomas frowned as another contestant, a man in a firefighter outfit, breezed past them to go on stage for his fifteen minutes of glory. “Do I know you?” the Elf asked after a beat, turning around to stare at him, one eyebrow raised expectantly. “Not yet.” Thomas grinned. He extended his hand. “Name’s Thomas.” The Elf looked at the hand, then up at him, then at the hand again as though he’d never seen one. Thomas waited a beat, then he awkwardly returned his arm to his side, shrugging as though it was no big deal. “Should I just call you gorgeous, then?” “I do not believe we’re at a level of intimacy that would allow you to do so,” the Elf replied, directing his attention back to the stage.
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Thomas tossed his hair back, fixing him with a liquid stare. “Maybe we should correct that, then? What do you say, gorgeous?” “Euriel. You’re up next, babe.” Meredith had materialized in the gap between the curtains, waving her clipboard at the Elf, and the Elf nodded and walked past Thomas without so much as a backward glance at him, as though he was made of thin air. Thomas hung backstage, peering through the curtains to watch him -- Euriel, if he heard right -- perform for the crowd. “Cold fish,” he muttered to himself. Thomas was sure Euriel was going to suck -- okay, bad pun. But no one that frigid and unresponsive could put on a good show, no matter how pretty they were. Thomas felt a surge of vindictive satisfaction watching Euriel walk on stage, back ramrod straight, as though he had something stuck up his ass. He looked forward to watching the Elf get booed off stage. He was going to enjoy every minute of it. An upbeat pop song Thomas knew vaguely, but had never actually paid attention to, blasted out from the speakers. So hot, out the box… Well. Well, fuck. Thomas was pretty sure his jaw was on the floor. It surely felt like it dropped low enough. What the hell was that, and where the hell did the Ice Queen find it? Euriel looked like a completely different person on stage. Cocky, sexy, he exuded self-confidence; every step he took was calculated, predatory. He owned the stage, owned every single inch of space around him. The song was vaguely about BDSM, and when Euriel took off his vest, the strobe lights caught on the silver rings on his nipples, and the chain linking them together, and Thomas had to shift his weight, cursing his Speedos and how little they left to imagination. He tied the robe around his waist and continued to watch. Euriel strutted around the stage, his hips gyrating like mad, his crotch already obscenely tented -- stretching the leather (God, leather, how had Thomas missed that?) of his pants and making Thomas’s mouth water with want. He couldn’t wait to see
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what was under the leather, if he had on briefs or a G-string, or maybe (Thomas’s dick jolted at the thought) maybe nothing, maybe he was going commando. Either way, it wouldn’t have mattered. The crowd was cheering loud enough to bring down the house. Thomas was pretty sure he’d have time to figure Euriel out in the following week. But first, he needed to find a quiet room to jack off because there was no way he was walking out of there without attracting way too many stares. Besides, he couldn’t leave before Euriel finished his number. It was like his eyes were glued to the stage, concentrating on those long fingers, poking out of cut off leather gloves, sliding down flat, rigid abs to the curve of Euriel’s bulging, leather-covered crotch. Christ. He had to take off his pants, he just had to -- Thomas wanted to see what was underneath all that sleek black, if the lights were tricking him or if Euriel was really as huge as he looked from backstage. Surely, surely he couldn’t get away with only taking off his shirt, could he? Turned out, he could. Euriel bowed, left the crowd high and dry like the tease he was proving himself to be, and swaggered down off the stage like a cat. Or a panther. Some feline of sort, Thomas was too caught up in the moment to come up with good metaphors. Euriel walked past him, looked over his shoulder at him and fuck if that glare didn’t fuel him rather than chill him as Thomas supposed Euriel had wanted to. It’s on, Thomas thought with a thrill of pleasure as he stalked after him. He was on a mission, and Thomas was not going to give up until he got what he wanted.
Chapter 3 Damon usually didn’t feel the urge to stake his claim. Alyan had never given him reasons to be jealous before -- it was usually the other way around, Alyan getting hot and bothered when someone hit on Damon, man or woman or Elf that they might be, and leading to a quickie either behind the storage room, like kids with the high of nearly getting caught spurring them on, or in the office, door locked and Damon slammed against it as Alyan proceeded to suck his brain out of his cock. This time, it was different. The drive home took no time at all -- Damon told himself Jesse had it under control anyway, and the first round of the King of Damon’s had lost all interest on Damon’s priority scale. Alyan was quiet, unusually so, eyes fixed forward as Damon sped through the LA late night traffic, and the air in the car was thick with the unsaid. Damon knew, rationally, that he had no room to be jealous of Alyan for having a one night stand -one, compared to the many he had before they got together. But he wasn’t angry with Alyan. The jealousy he felt had little to do with him and all to do with that cocky asshole who waltzed in his club and talked to his boyfriend like he had any right to. The contest was going to last a week, so Thomas better fucking know who Alyan belonged with. And if this meant spending several hours leaving bites, marks and possessive bruises on Alyan’s skin, well then fucking so be it. He didn’t even give him time to lock the door. As soon as they walked in, Damon slammed it shut, pinning Alyan against it as he attacked his mouth ferociously with his own.
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Alyan moaned and flailed, finally setting his hands on each side of Damon’s neck, pulling him in close, his lips parting to allow Damon’s tongue to sneak past them and lick all the way into his mouth, Damon’s knee spreading his legs easily as Damon rode Alyan’s thigh, cock already half hard and pushing against his zipper. “Gonna show you.” Damon bit his way down Alyan’s throat, hands sliding down inside Alyan’s pants to cup the firm curve of his ass. “And after that I’m going to show everyone.” “Fuck.” Alyan bucked against the sweet friction of Damon’s knee pressed up against his hardening cock, and damn near whimpered when Damon’s palms spread his ass cheeks, fingers dipping into the crack of his ass as Damon wriggled Alyan’s jeans down and off his hips. “So fucking pretty,” Damon breathed as he freed Alyan’s cock from his pants. “Could eat you all up.” “Can you -- ah -- save the bad porn dialogue?” Damon smirked up at him, and suddenly surged forward, biting at Alyan’s hip, teeth sinking into the tender flesh, tongue darting out to lavish away the sting, making Alyan moan, his cock now completely hard and pointing up toward his stomach. “Fuck.” Alyan kicked his legs wider, both hands going to grip at Damon’s shoulders to try and keep balanced. Damon smirked and nuzzled down the curve of Alyan’s thigh, tip of his tongue rolling up the juncture of his thigh and hip, until he pressed the flat of his tongue right under Alyan’s balls. “Ngh!” Alyan thumped his head back against the door, sinking his fingernails in Damon’s shoulders, leaving light half moon marks through the cotton of his shirt. Damon lavished attention on his tightening sac, thoroughly enjoying the sounds Alyan was so desperately trying to keep in. Damon sucked his balls into his mouth, thankful once more that he had no such thing as human gag reflex, then let them go, rolling them in his palm before licking slowly up the length of Alyan’s hard, ready cock.
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Damon suckled the head of Alyan’s dick with slow, wet kisses, alternately pursing his lips and sucking lightly at the slit, tasting the heavy drops of precome on the roof of his mouth, running his tongue around the ridge. He kept one hand splayed on Alyan’s hip, pushing him further up against the door, his thumb rubbing over the sensitive skin of his thigh while he brought the other back between his legs to roll Alyan’s balls, long fingertips straining to caress the crack of his ass. Alyan always made the most sinful sounds when he was being sucked off. They were quiet, but desperate, wanton, and his hips tried to jerk uncontrollably under Damon’s hand, his fingers clutching at Damon’s shoulders and itching to fist into Damon’s hair to force him to get on with the program. Easing up, Damon allowed him to rock upward, taking Alyan deeper into his mouth, inch by slow inch. He teased Alyan, slowly pushing in and pulling back, and Alyan’s soft whimpers quickly became more and more incoherent. Using the hand that was rolling Alyan’s balls, Damon slid behind, between his legs, until he could probe carefully at the tight ring of muscle, drinking in the shudders of anticipation that ran though Alyan’s body. Alyan moaned and bit his lip until it turned strawberry red, one of his hands flying behind him to grab at his own hair, his hips rocking against his will against the firm grip of Damon’s hand. His thighs trembled and shook as Damon relaxed his jaw and swallowed him whole, his finger stroking in a teasing circle over Alyan’s hole. “Fuck!” Alyan cried out, his voice breaking as both his hands tangled into Damon’s hair, his hips stuttering gracelessly in the wet heat of Damon’s mouth. Damon smiled up at him, or as much as he could with his mouthful of cock, and he slid the tip of his finger right past the outer ring, dry into the tight heat of Alyan’s ass. Alyan gasped, low and ragged, his body tensing up as if he didn’t know what to do with himself, to rock back on Damon’s hand or thrust up into his mouth. “Oh fuck.” Alyan stuffed a closed fist in his mouth as he shook against the door, overwhelmed with sensation. “Oh-oh, fuck, Damon -- Damon, God…”
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Damon pushed his finger in steadily, knuckle deep, before pulling out and sliding right back with two fingers. He repeated the motion a few times, his own cock painfully hard inside his jeans as he swallowed around the tip of Alyan’s cock. Alyan keened, his legs shaking, and Damon thought it prudent to shift closer, using his spare hand to slide one of Alyan’s legs up onto his shoulder. The change in angle meant that Alyan sank further on his hand, cock hitting the back of Damon’s throat, and Alyan howled, clamping a hand over his mouth to keep quiet as his fingers tugged painfully at Damon’s hair. Damon pulled back with an obscene, wet sound and licked his lips debauchedly, pressing a loving kiss to Alyan’s navel before shifting lower, and lower, the tip of his tongue trailing down Alyan’s hip, down to his balls, until it curled around Damon’s own fingers and pushed in alongside them into Alyan’s puckered hole. Alyan screamed and clenched down, hard, his legs giving way and proving Damon right. He shifted on his knees, trying to ignore how sore they were getting as he took more of Alyan’s weight on his shoulders. “Fuck, God.” Alyan tried to scramble for purchase against something, anything, but there was nothing in reach. Only Damon, under him, inside of him, owning him like no one else. “Don’t be scared, baby,” Damon soothed, licking his lips as he looked up at him from under lowered eyelashes. He eased Alyan’s fist from between his teeth, stroking the reddening marks there and bringing it to his lips. Alyan shook his head, whimpering as the finger inside him was quickly joined by another. “Please --” “I’ll take care of you,” Damon promised, still working his fingers to loosen him up. “I’m going to make you come so hard you won’t even fucking remember your name.” Much less his, he thought privately, but he didn’t want to actually say it and break the magic.
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Alyan moaned as Damon took Alyan’s cock back in his mouth, his fingers working furiously in and out of his ass, spreading and scissoring until Damon could easily slide in a third, then a fourth. Alyan’s fingers wound up in Damon’s hair again and yanked, forcing his cock so deep in Damon’s throat his nose was pressed in the soft curls at the base of Alyan’s dick, and that was it. That was all it took. Alyan came seconds later, his scream hoarse and high and completely wrung out, sagging against the door and on Damon’s shoulders. Damon swallowed, damn near choking on it, his heart beating so fast he thought he would die. Alyan clutched at Damon’s shoulders, shaking with the intensity of the aftershocks, his body surrendering completely as Damon spit a mouthful of come in his hand and lay Alyan down on the rug in front of the door, pushing his legs up and over his shoulders again. Damon brought his handful of come between Alyan’s legs, fingers slipping past easily as Alyan groaned and shuddered, still floating in a haze of white hot pleasure when Damon slipped his hot, hard dick inside of him. “Fuck, so beautiful,” Damon whispered reverently as he rocked his hips, slow, ever so slowly, his mouth pressed over Alyan’s breastbone, teeth pulling lightly at the soft skin there. “Love you so much.” Damon pulled Alyan closer to him as he drove his cock deeper inside. “Won’t ever let you go.” Alyan’s bright, feverish eyes snapped open and he looked so long and hard in Damon’s, Damon thought he could reach the core of his very soul. He brought his mouth down on Alyan’s lips for the softest of kisses as he slowly drove himself inside of Alyan, keeping pace in time with Alyan’s breathing. He knew there were going to be rug burns on his knees and on Alyan’s ass come morning, but fuck if he cared. From that position, every slow, deep thrust hit Alyan’s prostate, and soon Alyan was writhing and moaning desperately, his pleas loud and unintelligible.
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Sweat was pouring down his hairline and into his eyes, Alyan’s body shining like a jewel even with no lights on in their apartment. Damon pressed his lips on Alyan’s chest, sneaked one arm under his hips and slowly heaved Alyan up, until Alyan was straddling Damon’s lap. Damon wrapped his arms around his waist and hoisted him up before driving Alyan back down on his cock, rocking Alyan into Damon’s own thrusts. “Love you.” Damon’s words got lost against Alyan’s skin, again and again. Alyan mewled softly and shuddered, his own hand locking above Damon’s on his hips, fingers tangled, holding on tight. “Love you too.” Alyan panted and gasped in the crook of Damon’s neck, their breaths harsh and ragged. Damon’s own release was pulsing, hot and intense at the pit of his stomach, spreading from the base of his spine to the rest of his body. He couldn’t hold on much longer, and it didn’t look like Alyan was faring much better. Alyan tightened around him, fingernails sinking in his own skin and at the back of Damon’s neck, Alyan’s hips growing erratic as he impaled himself on Damon’s dick with every push and pull. Damon pulled their joined hands off Alyan’s hip and guided them to his hard, blood heavy cock. The moment their fingers brushed the leaking head, Alyan groaned and came, shaking violently, rope after rope of come coating their hands, the rug and Damon’s stomach. “Fuck,” Damon grunted and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to hold on, let Alyan ride out his own orgasm, but not even a full minute later he came, too, buried deep in Alyan’s ass, Alyan’s hot, trembling body blanketing him. “Fuck,” Alyan breathed a few minutes -- or maybe an hour? -- later. “Hmm?” Damon opened one eye, grinning, all lazy and catlike. “Hey.” “I think I should send Thomas a bottle of wine or something.” Alyan chuckled, shuffling against Damon, whose softening cock was still buried deep inside him. Damon groaned. “Well, then my plan backfired spectacularly.”
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“Shut up and kiss me,” Alyan ordered, and it was with a smile that Damon brushed his lips against Alyan’s. “You have all of tomorrow to find a better plan.” Damon could surely not ignore such a challenge.
Chapter 4 Of the contestants who had made it through the first round, Thomas was the first to arrive. The club was already full, and twice as many people were waiting outside, bargaining with bouncers to be let in. Thomas thought they’d better spare their money. Damon’s club was the best for many reasons, security not excluded. There was no chance in hell anyone without a ticket would have been able to worm their way in. He walked in through the side door, showing the color-coded wristband that gave him backstage access, and found himself pretty much alone in the spacious, couchfilled room that worked as backstage. He tried not to be too disappointed. After his number the previous night, Euriel had all but disappeared. Even when they announced the names of those going through to the second night, he was nowhere to be found. He didn’t know what he hated more -- the idea that he couldn’t get a chance to get into Euriel’s pants before he fled, or that someone else actually managed to get into Euriel’s pants and had gone off with him. To be completely honest, he didn’t actually think the latter could even be close to the realm of possibility, but a nagging voice in his brain told him that even if Euriel didn’t seem interested in him, that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in anyone else. Which put Thomas in the place where he just had to have Euriel fall for him. It was a matter of pride and one of principle. He sprawled down on one of the plush white leather couches, looking around sort of bored. He thought running in the contest would be much more fun. He’d never done it himself, but he’d made a point during all the years previous to that one to do at
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least ten of the contestants. And now that they were trickling in, all of them, each one looking more gorgeous than the other, Thomas could only look up and mentally compare them to Euriel and find them all wanting. It was nearly absurd, and maddening at the same time. Here he was, in a room that looked as though Playgirl had coughed it up, and all he could think of was of an enigma of an Elf with an attitude problem. There was clearly something wired a little differently in his brain. Alyan wasn’t yet there, nor was Damon, but even if he had been, Thomas didn’t think he’d ever bother going to the bar. What was the point? It wasn’t like he was in love with Alyan. Thomas didn’t do love. He looked around idly, checking his watch every few minutes to see whether there was any chance that Euriel might skip the contest after all, but he needn’t have worried. A minute to midnight, Euriel walked through the curtains of the backstage with the same elegant stiffness that he had had the previous night before his performance, and a spark ignited in Thomas’s belly. Euriel’s eyes fixed on him immediately, only a split second, but Thomas grinned nonetheless. So that was how it was gonna be, hm? Good to know. He could work with that. He stood from the couch, but Euriel was already gone -- where, Thomas had no idea, but he would think about that later. He was still the first in line and he had to open the show. Thomas didn’t mind going first, but he would’ve liked for Euriel to be there to see him. At least Euriel made it there before his performance. What that meant, or if it meant anything at all, Thomas didn’t really want to dwell on it. He didn’t like thinking too much, it made everything complicated. “Hey,” he asked of Meredith, a moment before stepping on stage. “Can I change my song?” Meredith eyed him up and down until Thomas squirmed under the scrutiny. It was as though she knew he was up to something. “That’s your shot,” she said finally. “Talk to the DJ and make it quick, will you? You’re not the only one in the running.”
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Thomas nodded quickly, ducking his head with a bashful mannerism that usually made women melt, and whipped around to whisper in the DJ’s ear before walking on stage. The lights were off, and Thomas walked to the center of the stage, his back to the crowd and pressed up against the cold metal of the pole. One way, or another, I’m gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha… He hoped the message was subtle enough. Thomas didn’t check to see whether Euriel was looking, but there were monitors everywhere. Even in the goddamn bathroom. He was going to see him. Whether Euriel picked up the challenge or not, well, one could hope. Thomas moved sensually, acting out the lyrics of the song, his hips swaying and gyrating. He shuffled back, ass against the pole, his legs spread obscenely wide. Thomas slowly unfastened his shirt, which was already loose at the throat, until it hung in a teasing V, baring his hard golden muscles to the world. There was a cute guy two rows from the front basically salivating, and Thomas locked eyes with him for a moment or two, enjoying the cat and mouse game. But when he turned his back to the crowd, one arm around the pole and his legs to the side, curving around it as he spun around to the chorus, he found himself staring in bright, deep pools of grey at the other end of the stage. Thomas nearly fumbled and fell, but he was quick to recover. He couldn’t allow Euriel to see what kind of effect he was having on him. He needed to stay in control, despite the fact that euphoria was running wild through him, coupling with adrenaline and making him feel stupidly lightheaded. Thomas curled one knee around the pole and threw himself backward, nipples brown and erect, standing in stark contrast against his tanned skin and the black of his open shirt. You asked for it he thought, head thrown back, staring upside down at Euriel for an instant before Thomas drew himself up again. He undid the last button of the shirt and let it slide down his body until it curled over his wrists, then ripped it off, throwing it at the crowd.
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There was a scramble to catch it, but Thomas wasn’t paying attention. He wasn’t stripping for them, not anymore. He was stripping for Euriel, and he made sure the Elf knew it. He was down to his G-string again when the song ended, to wild applause and cheers from the enthusiastic crowd, and Thomas took a short bow before retreating backstage. “Well, talk about setting the bar,” Meredith said in her microphone as she walked on stage, to another loud round of applause and cheers. “I’m thinking Thomas made it through to next round, hasn’t he?” Thomas grinned to himself as he stepped into his robe, instinctively looking around. He wanted to see Euriel’s reaction before the Elf got a chance of to hide behind his usual cool mask. Thomas knew Euriel had been watching. Now it was a matter of him deciding whether he wanted to take the bait or not. He found Euriel lounging about the couches backstage as though nothing had happened, looking cool and composed, and Thomas suddenly felt inexplicably angry. What the hell was he playing at anyway? And why did Thomas give a flying fuck? He should be upstairs, in one of the bedrooms, fucking his way through the four twinks that had battled for his shirt. Thomas decided to go for it. He wasn’t in the mood for more games. And Euriel didn’t look like he was in any game at all, so there was that. “Hey,” he greeted, striding purposefully to where Euriel was sitting and taking the spot next to him -- not too close, but close enough to feel the waves of heat radiating off him. Thomas stretched out, not too subtly checking Euriel out, and he was pleased when he saw the ripped jeans stretch over the bulge in Euriel’s crotch. “Did you like the song?” Euriel scowled at him. Thomas felt sure Euriel didn’t mean to look quite as pretty when he scowled. He grinned. “That’s a yes, then.” “You do not want to play this game,” Euriel said. His voice was soft, musical, but with a rough edge to it. It made Thomas shiver. “Trust me.”
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“How do you know I don’t?” “I just know.” “I might just have to prove you wrong then.” Euriel’s eyes narrowed. Thomas fought the urge to shift on the couch, his dick stirring traitorously in the folds of his robe. “You will not. And I am telling you now, find someone else to play with.” “Maybe I don’t want someone else.” “You think you don’t, but you do. You don’t care, not really. And you won’t care after you had your way. So you can go back to where you came from, and the real reason you joined this contest.” Thomas was thrown. He tilted his head to the side, staring at Euriel for a long beat of silence. “And what is that?” “To get into every pair of pants available.” Thomas had no idea how Euriel could muster up such plain, simple and pure disdain, and still manage to get Thomas harder than he’d been in a long time. I’m fucked. “That’s why you think I’m here?” He was playing with fire, but that’s what Thomas did best. “That’s a little rich coming from someone who’s in the very same contest.” That hit a nerve. Euriel stood up, fire in his eyes, and Thomas swallowed, hard. Jesus, but he was pretty, even when he looked like he could smite him with the fierceness of his glare. “Don’t you ever dare to assume you know anything about me.” And with that, he was gone.
Chapter 5 Thomas gaped at the spot Euriel had just vacated. He was left in equal measure hot, bothered and annoyed. He knew Euriel wanted him. He had seen him looking, he had seen the aftermath of his performance. Thomas knew what kind of effect he’d had had on the Elf. So what was that all about? It couldn’t be just because Euriel wanted to play hard to catch. There was something about him that told Thomas things went deep, way below surface when he was concerned. He just couldn’t quite figure out what, yet. And he also couldn’t explain why he cared so much. It wasn’t like Thomas cared about him. Thomas didn’t care about people, not really. So, he didn’t really care about Euriel. Then why was he standing up to follow? Euriel was already on stage when Thomas managed to catch up with him. Once again, Thomas had no idea what happened in Euriel’s brain when he walked on stage, because if he hadn’t been talking to him a moment ago, he would’ve sworn that his evil twin was taking the stage right then and there. Euriel ripped open his shirt with no ceremony, twirling it around in a makeshift rope to hook around the pole as he swayed. His nipples weren’t chained together that night, but the metal studs were slightly bigger, shaped like small arrows, and gleamed under a shower of glitter. Thomas swallowed. Fuck. He was well and truly fucked -- at least metaphorically speaking. Euriel looked straight at him as he lowered himself on his knees, the pole caught right against his bulging crotch. His eyes bore into Thomas’s as
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he gripped the pole with both hands, stroking it as he would a huge cock while he dragged himself up again, his groin pressing hotly against the thick column of silver. “Fuck.” Thomas’s throat was too dry for proper speech. Euriel tossed the shirt to the floor, one delicate hand skimming across his torso, glittery black nail polish that Thomas hadn’t noticed up to that moment making the trip of his fingers easy to follow even with the pulsing lights. Euriel’s fingertips stopped an instant to tease his pierced nipple before undoing the buckle of his belt. I’m bringing sexy back, Euriel mouthed seductively to the words of the song, no longer looking at Thomas as he slid the studded belt out of his jeans with one rapid move, using it to anchor himself to the pole as he did a full turn of the stage. Shit. Thomas was starting to suspect that Euriel had some disassociative disorder or other. There were no other explanations in sight. Still, the mystery that was Euriel’s hot/cold game kept him on his toes, kept him wanting. Thomas wondered if that was what it was all about. Just a game to see how long Thomas would wait, if he would take the time to figure Euriel out. Or if Euriel was one of those stuck ups that thought humans to be below them, and his disdain of Thomas was extended to his whole race. A crazy thought flitted through his mind -- maybe he could ask Alyan whether he knew Euriel at all, but he didn’t fancy his chances to get anywhere near Alyan without Damon using his ass to wipe the floor. Damon hadn’t looked like he appreciated Thomas’s presence at his club -- and there was also the problem that he didn’t think they were working that night. Still, short of asking Meredith -- and to be honest, she sort of frightened him; she looked like she could eat him alive -- Thomas was running out of options. On stage, Euriel spun around to face the crowd, the first catch on his pants popped open, his thigh wrapped around the pole as he danced. The fabric dipped just a touch, low enough for Thomas to see a hint of the shadowy crease of his ass. Then, still wrapped around the bar, Euriel leaned back, bending almost double until he could
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place his hands on the stage beneath him. Euriel’s fingers brushed the floor, then, holding himself with his knees, he reached up and slipped a hand into his pants. Thomas groaned and instinctively reached underneath his robe to fondle his hardening cock through the fabric of his G-string. In a distant corner of his mind, he could see Euriel spread out on a bed, laying on his back, naked, eyes tightly shut as he cupped his balls and rolled them against his palm, the skin hot, pulled tight over his sac. Thomas kept his eyes half closed as he watched Euriel on stage, one hand down the open V of his pants, his cock grinding against the pole, and pictured how Euriel would look as he jerked himself off in the middle of Thomas’s bed, Euriel’s head to the side, mouthing at his own shoulder, nail-polished fingers rubbing the piercing of his nipples until they were sore, hard enough to hurt, flicking them as he thumbed at the slit of his cock. Fuck. Thomas’s hand slipped under his G-string to find his own stiff dick. He fondled the head, then went lower to press against his balls, biting back a moan even though no one could hear him with the tumultuous cheers from the crowd and the thumping of the music. Fuck, but Euriel was sinful. Thomas watched through heavy lidded eyes as Euriel turned around to face the crowd, both hands to each side of the pole as though in prayer, pants undone and legs spread wide, his hard cock dragging up and down the pole as it bulged the thin cotton of his black briefs from his open jeans. Euriel threw his head back and let his hands shift down the pole until he could grab the waistband of his jeans, eyes closed as he swayed and slowly peeled the jeans down his ass and to his thighs. Thomas’s dick jumped up against his hand, and he squeezed hard at the base, biting the back of his palm as he began to stroke himself, picturing those long, strong legs hiked back against Euriel’s naked chest, until the knees pushed against the piercings on his nipples. Thomas would keep him spread wide, his leaking cock rubbing against Euriel’s hidden hole; he’d tease him, give him back a taste of his own
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medicine, make him beg until his voice was raw and spent and used. Thomas groaned out loud, gripping the back of the stage for support as he stroked himself faster, his eyes trailing up Euriel’s body as he rubbed his back against the pole, riding it with his perfect, brief-covered ass. Thomas fought to keep his eyes open, rocking into his hand and imagining how it would feel if he had Euriel spread out underneath him, bucking and rocking against him as Thomas held him down, fingers kneading into the curve of his hips. The music came to a crescendo as Euriel let his thumbs slip tantalizingly inside the waistband of his briefs, and fuck, Thomas was done for. He spilled in his hand, inside his G-string, his breath quick and short, his knuckles whitening as he clutched at the back of the stage for support. When he finally managed to catch his breath, he looked up to find an empty stage, the lights back up and the usual DJ music pumping from the speakers. Thomas’s heart raced in his ears, and he swallowed, discreetly wiping his hand on the inside of his robe before retreating back to the changing room to pick up his clothes. While talking to Alyan wouldn’t be his preferred course of action, he knew he was way too far into this game to back down now. He had to figure Euriel out or he’d go mad. He told himself it had nothing to do with feelings. He could have no feelings for someone that so obviously despised him. And most importantly, Thomas didn’t do feelings. So when Alyan asked him what this was all about, Thomas really had no answer ready. “I just need to know.” Thomas knew it was lame, but it was the best he could come up with. “You’ve got to give me a bit more than that.” Alyan crossed his arms above his chest, looking over his shoulder and giving Damon a little wave as though to say It’s all good. “Do you even know him?” “Does it matter?”
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Thomas sighed. “I just -- he seems to hate me. And I never met him before. I can’t figure out what’s up with him.” Alyan cocked his head to the side. “Why do you care at all, though? I mean -- not like I have room to talk -- but you didn’t strike me as a one-man guy.” Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Well. I’m not.” “Then why do you care? Let Euriel be and just… enjoy the contest.” “It’s not that easy.” Alyan smiled. “So you care.” “No.” “Well, then tell me why you are asking.” Thomas threw his hands up in frustration. “Whatever, never mind. I knew it was stupid to come to you.” He made to leave, but Alyan quickly grabbed his shoulder, holding him back. “Wait. Look. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just -- don’t think that it’s my place to say anything.” “Do you know him then?” “I used to. Not much now, though. He’s been away for awhile.” Alyan paused. Thomas was bursting to ask him more, but he was afraid that if he started saying something, he’d interrupt Alyan’s flow. “I’m just saying… don’t get too hung up on him. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.” “But why --” “He’s not your ordinary Elf.” Well, duh. “He’s not been with anyone in a very, very long time.” “But why then go to a contest like the King of Damon’s!” That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? Thomas had walked in on at least five other contestants getting it on backstage. It seemed like everyone who was making it through the rounds had the same goal in their minds. “Maybe he wants something else.”
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“But what?” Alyan laughed softly. “I don’t know, Thomas. You should ask him that, though. You can say whatever you want, but this is really bugging you, and I’m thinking it might be worth it to try to talk to Euriel, rather than put on your speed-dating charm.” They both shared a chuckle and it was like a curtain of tension between them had dissipated. “Okay. Um. Can I go get a drink, or is your boyfriend going to lay the smackdown on me?” Alyan laughed and looked over at where Damon was pretending really hard he wasn’t listening. “I think you’ll be all right.”
Chapter 6 The week had gone by smoothly. Thomas had made it through each and every round, and so had Euriel. Instead of doing what Alyan had suggested he should, though, he had backed off Euriel completely. It wasn’t done at random. He had a plan. A cunning plan at that. Now, whether or not he could pull it off was entirely up to chance, but Thomas was nothing if not selfconfident. He had run his plan by Domino, his pet Labrador, and general consent was that Thomas was, indeed, a genius. And tonight was the contest finale. It was his last -and only -- chance. Euriel didn’t seem too suspicious of the sudden cold shoulder Thomas was presenting. He had given him a few diffident glares, much like a cat that doesn’t trust you not to prowl on their turf, but Thomas had doggedly refused to step within ten feet of him. Considering how small the changing room was, that was no easy feat. Alyan had said something -- maybe there were other reasons for the contest than getting laid, and Thomas was trying to figure them out. If he couldn’t… well, then it was pointless for him to even try approaching Euriel again. It was something new for Thomas, who never waited for anything in his life, but he figured giving it a shot couldn’t hurt. As he stripped out of his outfit night after night for the cheering crowd, he found that the thrill didn’t come from knowing how many of them wanted him. There was only one person that he cared about (Yes, okay, he’d admitted cared. Happy now?), and he was putting on his best show for him.
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Euriel was suspicious, but that was okay. Thomas still had some time to prove himself to Euriel. And he would. As the contest progressed, he realized he enjoyed dancing and enjoyed entertaining people more than getting cheap tricks against the bathroom door. The rest of the contestants faded in the background as Thomas found himself in front of his mirror at home, rehearsing the number he was going to do for his final number. He had the perfect song for closing night. It was from the same artist Euriel had chosen the first night, and Thomas thought it put into words what he was feeling more than he could. He was backstage drinking something with a pink umbrella sticking out of the glass when he felt a hand on his back, and found himself staring face to face to one of the few who had made it through to the finale with him and Euriel. Thomas was shocked to realize he didn’t know who else was in the running for the title. “Hey,” the Elf said, smiling seductively at him. “How’s it going, gorgeous?” Thomas cringed. Wow. He didn’t know what he was more creeped out about, that an Elf would use something so cliché to hit on him, or that he used the very same line on Euriel. “Hey you.” Thomas smiled, subtly stepping away from him and taking a sip of his drink. “Been watching you perform,” he said, his tone sultry, taking half a step forward again. “Can’t return the compliment, sadly.” Thomas felt a bit bad, because the guy was indeed gorgeous. Perfect features, like most Elves, but he was too tall, too slim, too much make up -- he wasn’t Euriel. Period. “I’m not interested.” The Elf’s sultry looks disappeared and disdain replaced it. Thomas had to chuckle. Now that was familiar. The Elf walked off, and that’s when Thomas saw him. It was the first time Euriel and Thomas had even crossed glances in the past week, and Euriel’s deep grey eyes looked inscrutable. It made Thomas a bit uneasy, but he still gave him a small smile and a wave, and made himself turn away first, even
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though he was aware of Euriel’s eyes on his back. He couldn’t back down now. If his stupidly cunning plan was going to work, he needed to keep his cool. Thankfully, it was almost time for Euriel to walk on stage -- this round, Meredith had pulled their names out of an empty cocktail glass, and Thomas was going to go last. Which suited him, because he didn’t think his nerves could have coped otherwise. It was one thing was to have his cunning plan fail, an entirely different thing to have it fail in front of every single patron Damon’s ever held. Euriel’s performance was flawless and hot enough that Thomas thought it prudent to grab a drink of water from the bar before going on stage himself. Alyan winked at him and squeezed his wrist reassuringly as he handed him his glass of ice and wished him luck. “Thanks,” Thomas croaked as he downed his glass, his heart racing uncomfortably in his ribcage. “He’s watching you,” Alyan said with a wink as he pulled back, pretending to wipe the bar while Damon pretended he wasn’t looking at his ass as he bent over. “Just… do what you want to do, and that’ll be the end of it.” Yeah, easy for you to say. Thomas nodded and finished his water as Meredith walked on stage to a deafening roar. “And now gents… be prepared for the closing act… I give you our last contestant in the running for King of Damon’s. Give it up for Thomas!” Thomas walked out on stage with a confident smile, his leather and feathers suit shining under the dimming lights. He took the center of the stage, hands on his hips, and waited. But if I had you, that would be the only thing I would ever need… This time, he looked around, and this time, he found Euriel not backstage, but first row -- a little to the side, still hidden enough not to be conspicuous, but he was there. Thomas hoped it meant what he thought it meant, and started unbuttoning his shirt, sensually moving in time with the disco song, feeling the lyrics not only around him, but inside of him, believing that what they meant, this time, was real.
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He didn’t know if he was in love with Euriel -- that was a bit too much and Thomas didn’t like to think about it. But he knew that Euriel was the only person in his life that made him stop and rethink his routine. And well, even if nothing happened… maybe it would still be worth it. Not that Thomas would be okay with nothing happening -- far from it. It would probably hurt a little more than he cared to admit, but he would at least respect it, and know, intimately, that he’d done everything he could to make Euriel stop and take notice. And even if he didn’t dare to hope, it looked like Thomas’s plan had worked. Feeling daring, Thomas took his shirt off, tucked the ends of it around his chest with a mischievous grin and tossed it at a bemused Euriel whilst the crowd went wild. It’d be ecstasy, if I had you… Thomas was surprised by how much he meant it. In a week, Euriel had hooked him and made him want something more than a long string of one night stands. Thomas undid his belt and rolled it around one of his hands, keeping the other hand in his closed fist as he brought it behind his neck and went down on his knees, still swaying to the music, head thrown back and lips parted. He had put on pants that he could unbutton rather than unzip on purpose. He wanted to draw it out, make it last. This was his last performance -- and his last chance to have Euriel stand up and take notice. He popped the buttons one by one, walking with his knees closer and closer to the stage, feeling the sweat drip from his hairline to his tailbone, knowing that the gold spray he had used would soon be melting, leaving hints of glitter around the curve of his muscles. When he popped the last button, he whipped his head up, long bangs falling in his face as he fixated the crowd with a smoldering stare. He knew Euriel was watching, could feel the prickling at the back of his neck. He tugged at his pants and the seams ripped, leaving him in only the tiniest pair of black Speedos.
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The club stood, as a whole, clapping and cheering as Thomas hooked his ankle around the pole to draw himself up, dragging his cock along the pole. There was really no hiding the effect Euriel had on him, especially not with his underwear choice, but it wasn’t like Thomas cared. His cock bulged the thin satin fabric of his G-string, scantily covering his tight, full balls, and the curve of his ass. When the song ended, Euriel was nowhere to be seen. Thomas bowed to the crowd, heartbeat going wild, and fled backstage. It was now or never.
Chapter 7 Thomas didn’t need to go far. The moment he stepped off the stage and walked through the curtains in the back area, there Euriel was, looking just as drop dead gorgeous as Thomas remembered. Any doubts he might have had if holding onto his plan had been worth it flew out of the window. “What the fuck was all that about?” So he’d gotten the unflappable Elf to curse. That was something. “What do you think?” Answering questions with questions had gotten Thomas out of a lot of tight spots. Maybe it would work this time, too. “Don’t fucking play games with me. What was that?” “Did you enjoy it?” Euriel walked up in his face and made to grab his shoulder but stopped short, almost hesitant when all he could see was Thomas’s sleek, shining naked skin. “I don’t like you,” Euriel said slowly, his voice strained, as though his jaw was too tight to speak. “I don’t like games and I don’t like what you represent. I don’t like people like you.” Thomas blinked. “Wait a second, what do you mean people like me?” “Players,” Euriel said the word as though it was an insult. “Those who think they can get away with everything they want.” “I’m not like that,” he seethed. “How are you not like that? I’ve seen you with pretty much every single contestant since the very first night.” “I talked to you, though.”
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“Yes. As did many others. You wouldn’t even have known my name if it wasn’t for Meredith announcing each of us --” “I asked! You didn’t want to tell me --” “Like you’d have remembered the morning after!” Thomas blinked. “Hold on a second. What are you punishing me for? Or who?” Euriel looked like he’d just been slapped. He quickly turned his back on Thomas, but Thomas made a wild grab for him and pulled him back around, the touch of Euriel’s skin burning hot against his hand. “No, no, no. Hold on a second, you don’t get to do this.” Euriel yanked his arm away. “Let go!” “Not even in your dreams.” Thomas tightened his grip. “What the fuck happened? Someone screw you over some century ago or some shit, and now you gotta make a point every year?” Euriel’s usually pale, collected face was red, twisted with anger. “Screw you! You have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Then why don’t you fucking tell me rather than yell in my face? I did absolutely nothing to you, and whoever it is you’re angry at, it’s not me. Tearing me apart won’t make you feel better.” That seemed to register with Euriel. He looked lost, as though he’d just realized he was standing in front of a shivering Thomas, in the backstage of the King of Damon’s contest and with the results still to be announced, and he suddenly deflated like a punctured balloon. “Fuck,” he whispered. For a split instant, Thomas saw all the superiority Elves seemed to possess, all the timeless wisdom, stripped away. Euriel looked hurt and lost and young. It made Thomas’s chest ache. “I’m sorry. I’m -- I started this all wrong, and I’m sorry I made you think I was an asshole.” “Not your fault.” “No, it was, too, but if you’d listen to me one minute --”
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“Guys!” Someone threw a robe over Thomas’s shoulders. “Come on up on stage, they’re about to announce the winner.” “But --” “Thomas. Euriel. Both of you, you can finish whatever it is you’ve started in five,” Meredith called from the front. “Up on stage with the rest of ’em.” “Meredith, can’t I --” “Euriel, get your sweet bum up there, honey. Thomas. You too.” Thomas held Euriel’s glance for a long, intense moment. He reached for his wrist and squeezed, hoping that Euriel wouldn’t vanish the moment he wasn’t clutching him. Euriel did look in fact like he’d rather be anywhere but there. He struggled to put his game face back on as they walked out on stage to enormous cheers, fixing his smile and swagger as though fire hadn’t just passed between them, but Thomas could see right through his act. The cracks were there. Now it was up to him to catch all the pieces. They filed on stage one by one, him and Euriel, the Elf who had hit on him earlier, and another human. They smiled and took their bows while Meredith announced each of them to the club at large, but Thomas wasn’t listening. He tried not to be too obvious, but his eyes kept straying back to Euriel at the other end of the line. He would’ve given anything to have been eliminated in one of the earlier rounds. “Okay gents, you know the drill. We’ve seen some pretty hot shows this week, so give a hand to everyone who participated in your eyes’ delight!” More clapping. “As of popular vote… the winner of this summer King of Damon’s is…” Drum roll. Thomas fidgeted on his feet. Let’s get this over with, please, please, please… “Thomas!” Thomas blinked as a shower of sparkles and glitter fell with a whoosh above his head and the other human in the run moved to hug him and congratulate him. Meredith had a beautiful hand made bronze crown in her hands and was grinning at
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him as though her birthday had come early, but Thomas couldn’t wait to get himself out of their clutches and get to Euriel before he disappeared, or before he pulled away behind the mask it took so long to work under. The crowning and the pictures and the round of honor didn’t take more than a few minutes, but it was hours in Thomas’s mind. Finally, finally he managed to get backstage, but -- predictably -- Euriel wasn’t anywhere to be found. Heart sinking, he trudged back to his dressing room and changed, a million thoughts swimming around his head like clouds of smoke. He couldn’t pinpoint how he was feeling. His chest was hollowed out, as though even breathing was painful. He wasn’t angry, but he felt like he’d been let down -- and he had thought his plan had worked. He thought he’d hit it right on the head. Something had happened, or rather, someone, some douche bag (not unlike Thomas, apparently), and Euriel had been holding a grudge ever since. Which was understandable. It still didn’t fit as to why Euriel would join in the contest. What was he trying to prove? Thomas’s gloomy train of thoughts shattered the moment he opened the door, and found himself face to face with Euriel. “Oh.” Thomas was very eloquent. He was, really. But he just couldn’t get his brain and his mouth to work at the same time. He thought Euriel was shaking. He looked distressed but a bit hopeful, too, and Thomas didn’t know if there was anyone in the world who was more beautiful. “Shit.” Well, at least Thomas wasn’t the only one lacking in eloquence. “Look -- not to be creepy or anything but… umm. I’m kinda sick of this place for now, and uh -- what about getting out of here? And, you know. Talk?” “I don’t talk,” Euriel said automatically. “Well, okay, so how about I talk and you listen?” Euriel bit his lip, clearly struggling with himself. Thomas took a step forward, and Euriel didn’t zoom away, which he thought was an improvement. He gently took
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his elbow to guide him out of the place, and Euriel went, even though he was looking straight ahead and had his back poker straight like the very first night Thomas saw him. “Thomas! King, hold up a second.” Thomas nearly groaned out loud. What now? Meredith caught up with them with a smile that radiated mischief. “You forgot the first prize. Tickets for the Rivendell weekend, all paid for.” She looked at them up and down with that maneater look that made everyone (her brother included) strangely uneasy, and winked. Winked. Thomas was already cringing, ready to grab Euriel if he tried to make a run for it, but surprisingly enough Euriel gave her a nervous smile, and they pushed their way out without any further drama. The L.A. air was humid and thick, a curtain of stars that extended as far as the eye could see. Euriel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, and leant back against the wall of the club, looking up at the sky. “I’m sorry I freaked on you.” Well, that wasn’t what Thomas was expecting. At all. He frowned and walked up to him, leaning by his side and looking up at the same sky. It was easier than watching Euriel’s profile and fighting with his erratic heartbeat. “It’s okay. I was a jerk after all.” “Yeah, but you -- you were right. It’s not you I’m mad at.” So much for not talking, he thought with a small smile. “Who are you mad at?” “Someone. Someone who -- well, it’s been awhile. He doesn’t matter now.” “Bullshit. It obviously does if you are still this worked up about him.” Euriel snorted. He didn’t reply for the longest time, and Thomas got nervous, thinking he’d pushed his luck too far. When the silence became unbearable, he cleared his throat, forcing his gaze away from the sky and looking straight into Euriel’s liquid, velvet gray eyes. “I’m going to guess,” he said softly. “He was with you and running in the contest. And he cheated on you.” Euriel’s shoulders stiffened immediately, but Thomas went doggedly on. “Maybe with some asshole like me, who only entered the King of
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Damon’s to get some tail. And now you want to prove to him that all his bullshit excuses about the contest and, I dunno, temptation and everyone does it and so on and so forth is just that. Bullshit.” “And you think so, why?” Thomas shrugged. “Just your reaction tonight after my performance. Did you like the song, by the way?” Euriel’s cheek twitched, as though he was trying to keep in a smile. “Cheesy.” “Doesn’t make it any less true.” Euriel let out a long breath, and finally turned to fix Thomas with a heated stare. “Is that so?” Thomas’s brain short circuited. He swallowed, and nodded. “That is so.” The first touch of Euriel’s mouth on his was a shock of electricity. He gasped as he was pushed back against the wall, head knocking painfully on the concrete, and Euriel’s hands fisted in his jacket, lips parting over Thomas’s as he kissed him with a kind of fervent desperation. Thomas’s hand spanned on the small of Euriel’s back and pulled him in close, his head spinning, the whole world around him stilling as he parted his mouth and pressed his tongue insistently over Euriel’s lips, begging for entrance. Euriel opened his mouth with a sigh and pressed closer, impossibly closer. Thomas groaned and held him tight, feeling light headed and dizzy as though he’d just swallowed ten shots of moonshine. When they finally parted, cheeks red and short of breathed, Thomas leaned his forehead against Euriel, so close to him that the infinite silver of his eyes was overwhelming. “Is your offer to get out of here still up for grabs?” Euriel breathed, low and soft, almost like a secret. Thomas thought he might get whiplash, he nodded so fast. “Let’s go then.”
Chapter 8 Alyan had asked him, days after the end of the contest, what happened after that. Truth was, Thomas had no idea. It was as though time had compressed, and one minute they were kissing against the rough cement wall of the club, the next they were frantically ripping their clothes off one another like in one of those cheesy movie montages. He knew, somewhat distantly, like a distorted memory, that Euriel had driven them both to Thomas’s place, because he was too jittery and antsy to be trusted behind the wheel. He knew his dog had made a mess on the floor, and Euriel had laughed and sidestepped it, and kissed Thomas again, mumbling something about keeping it real. Thomas’s previous anger at his pup vanished with the sound of Euriel’s giggle, and he thought Domino needed extra treats if just because he’d made Euriel laugh. It was the first time he’d heard him laugh. They did manage to get to the bedroom after a comedy of errors -- elbows in each other’s guts as T-shirts were flung all over the place, not a trace of the finesse the King of Damon’s possessed on stage, and ended up in a breathless pile on Thomas’s duvet, kissing and whispering and caressing newly discovered skin like it was the first time. In a strange, earth-stopping way, it was. Thomas cupped the back of Euriel’s head and hoisted him up on his lap, one leg at each side, kissing along the side of Euriel’s jaw as he held him carefully against his chest, knuckles rolling down Euriel’s back as though trying to work off the tension.
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Euriel shivered and dug his nails in the rippled muscles in Thomas’s shoulders, breath growing heavier as he nuzzled the side of Thomas’s face, feeling the beginning of stubble under tender skin. “Slow,” Euriel whispered, and Thomas nodded against his chin, kissing his throat and all around until he could suck the pointy ear between his lips. “Slow,” he agreed. He would agree to anything, too euphoric, too drunk on emotion as he held that beautiful, beautiful creature in his arms. Euriel shivered, his defenses stripped down, the pieces in Thomas’s hands to collect, and he would do just so -- take them and keep them safe and put Euriel back together, time and time again. Thomas’s fingers slowly worked their way around Euriel’s body, resting on the sharp curve of his hips, palms splaying outward. Euriel’s breath hitched and he laid his forehead against Thomas’s collarbone, looking down at where Thomas’s thumbs were moving closer to the damp bulge of his G-string. Thomas looked up -- it was now or never. He had no idea why he was so nervous, but Euriel simply nodded, once, and Thomas’s thumbs hooked into the elastic of his G-string, pulling them down as far as they would go and freeing Euriel’s hard cock. The moment Thomas’s fist gripped the base of his dick, Euriel keened and dug his fingers deeper into Thomas’s shoulder blades, his breath growing heavier. He rocked his hips into the light touch, eyes half mast and hooded as he looked down at the slow, teasing movement of Thomas’s hand on his cock. Precome made it slick and slippery. Thomas’s bachelor bedroom was silent apart from their quiet, mumbled moans and the occasional canine whine from where Domino was locked in the kitchen. It felt surreal, dreamlike. Euriel shuddered and rolled his hips into Thomas’s fist, head bowed down low to lick and suck at the curve of Thomas’s breastbone. “Fuck,” Thomas groaned, eyes squeezed shut as his own hips stuttered upwards, his cock leaking and bobbing over his abs. Thomas’s spare hand travelled from Euriel’s
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hip to the smooth curve of Euriel’s ass. He tugged experimentally, parting Euriel’s cheeks for his fingertips to run down the crease of his ass. “Oh, God,” Euriel breathed, his breath burning against Thomas’s skin. “You like that?” Thomas asked, feeling suddenly bold. Euriel bit his lip and said nothing, but he pushed back against Thomas’s hand, looking for the phantom pressure of Thomas’s fingers over his hole, back and forth, back and forth until Euriel groaned and started to thrust back into his hand. “Slow,” Thomas promised him again. “Not gonna rush you.” Euriel’s eyes flew open, bright and alert, and he quickly pressed his mouth over Thomas’s, eating away at his words until Thomas moaned and rutted up against Euriel’s hip, his cock leaving burning hot trails of precome on Euriel’s skin. “I want it.” Euriel’s teeth sank into Thomas’s lower lip. “I want you.” Thomas didn’t think he could grow harder and have his heart beat faster at the same time, but those three words proved him wrong. He kissed the bridge of Euriel’s nose, tension suddenly creeping up at the base of his spine. He needed to keep his cool, but somehow, this whole thing with Euriel had reduced him to a stuttering, nervous wreck. “Just tell me to stop if -- you know.” Thomas held Euriel’s gaze and nuzzled at his chin. Euriel shook his head, his hips rocking of their own volition. “I’m not exactly a virgin,” he said, the hint of laughter creeping back into his voice. Thomas couldn’t help but smile back, and watched as laughter left Euriel’s eyes to be replaced by something much more intense, breath catching in his throat as the tip of Thomas’s finger slipped inside of him before withdrawing, merely a hint, a shadow of a feeling. Euriel shivered and rocked back against Thomas’s hand. “Fuck. Thomas -- more, Thomas, come on…” Thomas kissed Euriel’s panting mouth as he returned his hand to Euriel’s cock. He thumbed the slit and drew his hand back down to cup Euriel’s balls, before stroking all the way up again, wet, slick and heavy. Euriel surged forward and caught Thomas’s mouth in a messy kiss, tongues tangled, sloppy and breathless, moans dying against each other’s skin as Thomas slowly worked his index finger inside Euriel’s tight hole.
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Euriel shuddered and bit at Thomas’s lower lip, whimpering softly and spreading his legs as far as they would go on Thomas’s lap. “More?” Thomas whispered, working his finger cautiously in and out of Euriel’s opening. He was so hot, so tight, beautifully flushed against Thomas’s chest. Thomas leaned in and kissed the side of his jaw. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Anything. Anything you want.” Euriel arched his head backward, allowing Thomas all the access he wanted. “Just you,” he pleaded. “I want you.” With his thumb, Thomas caught Euriel’s jaw and tilted his head. “I’m yours if you want me.”
Chapter 9 Euriel groaned and closed his eyes, his hands curling into Thomas’s hair as he guided Thomas’s head to his chest. Carefully, Thomas pulled his finger out of Euriel’s opening and braced his hand on Euriel’s hip. Euriel clung to his neck as Thomas flipped them around, laying Euriel down on the duvet underneath him, Thomas’s own body blanketing him from above. Flailing around with one arm, Thomas managed to grab a pillow and prop it under Euriel’s head. With Euriel arranged in an artlessly graceful sprawl, Thomas pushed himself up to his knees and began to kiss his way down the crease of Euriel’s hip, lower and lower until he could part Euriel’s thighs with one hand. “Thomas?” Euriel looked at him, his eyes huge in the dull light, gleaming behind sweat clumped eyelashes. His skin glowed and his lips were ruby red from kisses and bites. It made Thomas’s heart skip in his chest. Thomas smiled, lips caressing the tender skin of Euriel’s inner thigh. Euriel sucked in a harsh breath, spreading his legs as Thomas guided them, his self-control growing weaker in the face of the overload of sensation. Slowly, cautiously, Thomas hooked Euriel’s legs up over his shoulders as he inched closer and closer to Euriel’s beautiful cock. He parted his lips and let his tongue slide around the thick head, fiddling with the slit until hot, bittersweet precome leaked out. Euriel whimpered and clumsily thrust his hips up, no Elven grace, all need and lust. Thomas’s own dick jumped in response, and he had to grab at the base to keep
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himself in check as he suckled at the crown of Euriel’s hard cock, Thomas’s fingers running circular patterns over the juncture of Euriel’s thigh and groin. Euriel grunted and twisted his fingers in Thomas’s hair, moaning as his back arched and he shook under the combined pressure. Thomas doubled his efforts. He wanted Euriel to come first, hell, come twice if he could stretch it, before Thomas got anywhere near the main event. He slotted his finger back to the tight entrance to Euriel’s body, thumb quickly pushing all the way in, and that pushed Euriel completely over the edge. He came with a small, choked cry, spilling in Thomas’s mouth with not so much as a word of warning. “Sorry!” Euriel gasped, wild-eyed and mortified even as his vision swam in and out of focus. “God, I’m sorry --” Thomas swallowed and licked at whatever come he hadn’t managed to catch, on Euriel’s hips and down the curve of his balls. Euriel moaned, a blissed-out glow quickly replacing his embarrassment, and he flopped back down on the bed with a slow, pleased grin. Thomas licked his lips, tasting salt and Euriel. “You taste sweet,” he mumbled, because he had no filter between his brain, his dick and his mouth. Euriel blushed in the darkness as Thomas nuzzled his cheek against Euriel’s knee, tracing patterns in the splashes of come he hadn’t managed to lick up. Euriel whimpered when Thomas hooked an arm under his knees and forced his legs up against his chest. “Patience, baby.” Thomas kissed at the inside of Euriel’s thighs, feeling his stomach clench as he looked down at the beauty spread eagled underneath him. Euriel’s beautiful dick was still half hard, blond, damp curls surrounding the base, and Thomas couldn’t resist such temptation. He licked up a swathe over Euriel’s cock and felt him shake violently underneath him. He was tempted to go for another round, but truth be told, his jaw ached, and his dick was diamond hard against his belly, damp with precome. He needed to do something about that.
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Thomas parted Euriel’s legs further, his tongue lapping down around Euriel’s balls, then down to his puckered entrance. Euriel’s keen was precisely what Thomas had banked on. He grinned and slid his tongue inside, his fingers tight around Euriel’s thighs. Euriel writhed and moaned so openly it sent Thomas’s blood pulsing fast and loud through his veins. He wanted to hear more of those sounds. Just knowing he was the one who got Euriel to break down his walls and allow Thomas to see him, the whole of him, made him feel ridiculously happy and elated and scared shitless at the same time. He used his tongue until his lips felt numb, and Euriel’s heels dug hard against the curves of Thomas’s shoulder blades. Euriel’s dick was hard again, leaking against his stomach, a pool of perspiration and precome gracing the perfect skin of his belly. “Thomas,” Euriel moaned, thrashing underneath the sweet assault. “Thomas, God, Thomas, please, please do it, I’m ready, I’m ready, please --” “Not yet.” Thomas licked his lips, then closed his mouth around Euriel’s balls, two of his fingers slowly working inside of his hole. He crooked them up just right, until he pressed them against that spot that made Euriel cry and kick out wildly under Thomas’s hands. “Fuck!” Euriel spread his thighs wider, one foot coming down to rest on the floor as his body arched upward, desperate for more stimulation. Thomas eased his fingers carefully back and forth, scissoring them slowly as he coaxed Euriel’s body to open up for him. When Euriel started to babble in Sindarin, words unintelligible to Thomas, he reached behind them between the cushions, finding the emergency lube and a brand new packet of condoms. He spent half a second feeling bad about having a stack for emergency hook-ups, but that was quickly washed aside when Euriel sat back, grabbing the lube out of his hand and squirting a large amount on his palm, roughly grabbing Thomas’s cock and coating it in slick, cold cream. Thomas moaned and rocked up in Euriel’s hand, fumbling with the condoms and spilling the whole box on the bed,
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making Euriel laugh and falter in his movements. “Wait -- wait, what about -- condoms -- I have --” “So graceful.” Euriel kissed him and snorted, and Thomas had to laugh, too, because really, talk about unprepared. “I’m an Elf, darling. Immunity comes with the package.” Thomas’s stomach clenched, butterflies flying around as he swept the condoms on the bed and sat back on his hunches. His cock was leaking in anticipation as he lined himself up between Euriel’s legs. Euriel looked up at him, tongue darting out to lick suddenly too dry lips, thighs shaking, his eyes brimming with perspiration as he fought to focus to keep his eyes open and focus on Thomas’s face. “Do it,” Euriel begged feverishly, clutching at Thomas’s biceps tight enough to bruise. “Do it, Thomas, please. Please --” Euriel bit his lower lip, a soft keen dying in a grunt as the thick head of Thomas’s cock breached through. “Ah --” Euriel garbled out, his head thumping back against the headboard, fingernails leaving long scratches on Thomas’s back as he scrambled for purchase. “Fuck.” Euriel’s eyes rolled back as his stomach quivered, breathing shallow. Thomas covered Euriel’s mouth with his own, drowning Euriel’s mumbling moans with his tongue, fucking into his mouth with quick, precise strokes as his hand went back to Euriel’s cock, stroking fast and hard to keep him from wilting with the initial burn. “Move,” Euriel garbled out again between one kiss and the next. “I can’t -- just -Thomas!” Thomas nodded and kissed him softly again. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Because if he had to wait any longer, he would go insane. Thomas moved slowly, so very slowly, pushing in until his balls rested against Euriel’s thighs, and drawing out until the head of his cock was the only thing keeping Euriel open. He eased into a rhythm, a steady burning that drove both of them out of their minds with need. Euriel couldn’t keep quiet, his cheeks flushed red, hands sliding
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over firm muscles, landing on Thomas’s ass as he forced him to speed up, harder, deeper, more. “So beautiful, beautiful, mine, Euriel, mine --” Thomas had no idea what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. Soft praise spilled from his lips as he worked his hips, his thick dick buried in the searing heat of Euriel’s body, the steam only adding to the sweet friction of skin on skin. “Thomas…” Euriel’s hands tightened on Thomas’s ass. “Thomas, God, please…” Thomas nipped lightly at the skin of Euriel’s throat, chasing a bead of sweat as it rolled languidly down the curve of his neck to collect in a pool at his clavicle. Euriel’s whole body was vice tight around him, slick and hard to grasp as Thomas rolled his hips in time with their labored breathing. Euriel sobbed as one hard thrust slammed against his prostate, forcing his body to jackknife upward. His spine curved, his whole body arching up into Thomas’s. “I got you,” Thomas promised, easing an arm under Euriel’s back and using it to help angle his thrusts deeper into Euriel’s body. He continued his line of kisses, one after another, as low as he could go on Euriel’s chest, his tongue lapping at the pierced nipples and playing with them until they felt hard and hot under his tugging teeth, and Euriel was digging his fingers in the back of his neck, urging him on. With a grunt, Thomas was able to haul Euriel up into his lap, and the sudden jar of gravity impaling Euriel completely on the hard dick inside of him made him cry out. Thomas’s head spun dizzily as heat tightened around him, his whole world narrowing to the place where their bodies joined. “Yes,” Euriel groaned, deliriously, head swimming in a haze, all the muscles in his body seizing up as heat coiled in his belly, ready to strike. “Yes, Thomas, oh -- oh, God, yes, yes --” “Kiss me,” Thomas whispered, holding Euriel tight as he slammed his hips up into his body. “I want you to come as you kiss me.” Euriel mashed his mouth against Thomas’s, whimpering softly as their teeth clashed together. In a matter of seconds he was coming, clenching hard around Thomas,
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his vision whitening out as his orgasm rippled through his body in a mad whirlwind of rainbow-like colors. Euriel dropped his forehead against Thomas’s shoulder, panting hard, clutching at Thomas’s hair as it slipped between his fingers, wet and sticky. Thomas groaned and thrust up once, twice, and muffled a groan in Euriel’s chest as he came inside of him, breath coming in harsh gasps as he tried to keep a hold of Euriel through the wild aftershocks. It took Thomas a few moments to get his bearings. He felt as though he hadn’t come that hard in ages, his heart fluttering like a caged bird in his chest. He held Euriel tight, limbs feeling like lead, his face buried in the crook of his neck. Euriel’s fingers were still clutching at his hair, but Thomas didn’t mind. He felt like he wanted to hold Euriel forever, and it didn’t matter how sappy and trite it sounded. Thomas was perfectly okay with being a walking and talking cliché. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next time he opened his eyes, pale dawn was painting kaleidoscope stripes on their flushed bodies, and Euriel was looking at him with those eyes that had enthralled him from the very first day they met -- was it only a week ago? Thomas didn’t think it possible. “Morning, gorgeous,” he whispered in the quiet of the morning, brushing his knuckles on Euriel’s cheekbone. “Hey.” The hair at the back of Thomas’s neck perked at attention. He quietly pushed himself up on an elbow, draping the other arm around Euriel’s shoulders and pulling him closer. Euriel’s hands went around Thomas’s back, grappling for leverage. Thomas caressed his hair and nuzzled the side of his jaw, kissing him softly. “What’s buzzing in that brain of yours?” Thomas asked after a few minutes of cuddles. Euriel shrugged imperceptibly. “Just… things.” “What things?”
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Another shrug. Thomas nudged his chin up until he could look into his eyes. “You,” he admitted after a beat. “I thought I had you figured out, but…” “I’m just that full of surprises,” Thomas smiled, but quickly turned serious again, his eyes soft and mellow as he pushed sweaty hair out of Euriel’s face. “What are you thinking?” he repeated, his voice quieter, honest. “Do you want… I mean.” He cleared his throat. “This. It’s not just a fluke, right?” Thomas didn’t know whether to laugh or thump him across the back of his head. He decided for neither, and leaned closer, their foreheads brushing together as he placed the gentlest kiss on Euriel’s lips. “Is that answer enough?” Euriel smiled, bashful and uncertain. “I don’t know. Maybe?” “I can work with maybe.” Thomas tugged at him and kissed him, properly this time, until his lips tingled and he could feel the heat radiating off Euriel’s body as he pressed up close against him. He quietly kissed the tip of his nose, making Euriel snort and pull away, hiding his face in the pillow. Thomas chuckled and rubbed his knuckles down Euriel’s spine, feeling as though his life had just begun all over again. “So I was thinking,” Thomas said casually after a beat of silence. Euriel raised his head half an inch to look at him. “Do you have plans next weekend? ’Cause I got a two persons package at this fancy resort in Santa Monica… and I would hate for it to go to waste.” Euriel grinned from the crook of his arms. “I think I might be persuaded to accompany you.” “Persuaded, huh?” Euriel nodded, his eyes glowing as he rolled on his side and threw one leg over Thomas’s hip. “I think I’ll find ways to persuade you.” Thomas grinned, leaning up to take Euriel into his arms again. The summer was shaping up to be pretty good.
Sophia Titheniel Shy, bashful, Sophia Titheniel -- NOT! She’s part Elf, part video editor, part photographer. She likes her men feisty, snarky, and getting it on with one another! Originally from Italy, Sophia’s hopped the Atlantic to land in Vancouver, Canada, where she’s giving her professors heart attacks with her M/M projects. Obsessed with caffeine, M&M’s (pun very much intended) and with everything supernatural, she’s known to carry her laptop to the most improbable locations (including, but not limited to, beach, bathroom, train, and day-job) to be able to finish whatever she’s writing at the moment. Spirit
Boys,
her
ongoing
free
serial,
makes
its
home
at
http://titheniel.livejournal.com. Want to harass her to hurry things up? Drop her a note at
[email protected] -- Sophia would like to add she takes full responsibility for any thigh-clench and change of panties that might occur! ;) Enjoy!
