Chapter 3
If human men in uniform were bad for his heart, an elf in leather decorated with knives was going to be a disaster.
But it was only one night.
He needed to get back out there and remember what it was like to tumble out of strange beds. He needed to remember how to date again, and while that wasn’t what this was, it was a good first step.
“I don’t even know your name.” Not that it mattered. When he was younger, there’d been times when he hadn’t bothered to ask.
The elf raised one fair eyebrow. “You don’t have that right. However, you may call me Vlash.”
Right, elves didn’t hand out their real names. “I’m Mason.”
“I know who you are.”
Mason stared.
Vlash smiled, something Mason suspected could be lethal, though at the moment, it was filled with warmth. Vlash stepped back, releasing his hold on Mason's hip.
“I’m going to grab the mead. You should wander out as if you’re going to the bathroom.”
It wasn’t an order, but if Mason didn’t leave the room as instructed, then this chance would be over.
Vlash didn’t seem like the kind of man who asked twice.
Jordan and Edra had already left. And when he glanced around, he didn’t see Sean or Troy either.
No one would realize he was missing until morning when breakfast was served.
If he disappeared for a few hours, no one would question where he’d been. Did it matter if his friends asked when they’d suggested he should try to get lucky tonight?
He gave Vlash a tiny nod of agreement.
As he did that, he realized he was stepping not just off the path but he was ignoring the danger signs posted along the way. It was one thing to think about hooking up but another to do so.
Bud would hate that he was leaving the party with an elf.
Mason heard the scorn in his ex’s voice and imagined the anger in his eyes.
Bud hated all things mytho. He’d said terrible things about Jordan when his relationship with Edra became public, and while Mason hadn’t joined in, he hadn’t stood up for his friend, either.
That was when he should’ve left, but it had taken a few more months.
What better way to climb back on the dating horse than to fuck an elf who’d given him a fake name?
Mason made his way off the dance floor and towards the exit. The bathrooms were out the door and down the corridor. He could change his mind.
The air was cooler in the corridor, but the noise of the party trickled out. The beat of the music and the laughter followed him. He hadn’t hooked up in so long. He couldn’t remember what to do. It was one of those things he’d given up soon after turning thirty. Soon after, he met Bud.
Five fucking years of trying to convince himself that Bud was the one. He’d known for at least two, but he wanted it to work. What he should’ve done was leave two years ago; then, he wouldn’t be thirty-five and single with a gym membership that he desperately needed to use.
Vlash walked past him, holding a bottle of mead. “Coming?”
He hadn’t been joking about the mead. Mason swallowed. If it went horribly, he could escape back to the party. “Yes”
It wasn’t as if he had a better offer. No, this was the only one he had. What did that say about him? He was sleeping with the first person who asked. The only person who asked.
The hottest and most dangerous person, aside from the god Pan, at the party.
Vlash walked a few paces ahead, and Mason followed as if they happened to be heading in the same direction. Maybe Vlash didn’t want to be seen with a human.
Vlash opened the door, stepped in, and paused as if surprised.
Mason stood in the doorway. It wasn’t a big room. Nor was there much in it. A double bed, a trunk at the foot of the bed, and a desk. On the table was a candle and a note.
“Was someone else meant to be here?” He didn’t want to step on the wrong mytho toes.
“No,” Vlash said as he put the mead next to the candle. He picked up the note and read it, his lips curving.
Vlash didn’t smile much, and Mason wondered what it would be like to hear him laugh with joy instead of bitterness. To see him smile so it reached his eyes. Like all elves, he was pretty, but he was stern…almost grim.
For a couple of heartbeats, Mason wondered if he should even be in Vlash’s room.
Vlash unbuckled his belt and placed his sword on the wooden chest at the foot of the bed. His moves were fluid, as if he’d done them a thousand times. He still had three visible knives on him, and Mason had no idea how many hidden ones he was wearing, but he doubted Vlash was ever unarmed.
“Are you going to close the door? And when you do, which side do you intend to be on?” Vlash lifted one eyebrow and stared at Mason.
Mason’s pulse filled his ears, and his mouth dried. Vlash watched him with a heat and a challenge that Mason wasn’t used to seeing directed at him. The elf was all sharp edges, and all Mason wanted to do was play with him. He didn’t like danger. He didn’t find it exciting.
So why was Vlash, with all his knives and leather, so exciting? Enticing?
This was his only chance to find out.
Mason crossed the threshold and shut the door.
Vlash closed the distance between them and pressed Mason up against the door.
His lips brushed over Mason’s, and his hands cupped Mason’s face.
Another ghost of a kiss, as if Vlash had to remember what to do.
Their noses brushed together with each tentative kiss.
This was the only man Mason had kissed, other than Bud, in five years.
Vlash’s lips felt different. He moved differently.
He held Mason possessively yet without demand.
It was Mason who made the first demand.
Mason needed more than light kisses. He opened his mouth, hoping that he wasn’t breaking some Elvish faux pas. Like any soldier, Vlash seized the opening. His tongue flicked over Mason’s lip before dipping in. That first taste was the only warning he got.
Vlash’s mouth closed over his, hot and hungry. Mason rolled his hips, needing to feel more of him, and Vlash responded, grinding against him as his tongue invaded.
Thank fuck for the door at his back, or he’d have slipped to the floor. His hands found their way to Vlash’s hips, fingertips pressing into the leather of his coat.
“What do you like?” Vlash whispered.
“My ex used to—"
“I didn’t ask about your ex,” Vlash snapped and then softened the words with a kiss. “I asked what you want.”
This was pure lust.
It wasn’t the lonely need when Bud returned after months away or the heat of angry or make-up sex. In those few seconds, he realized it had always been about Bud and what he wanted. Not him.
When they’d first got together, it hadn’t mattered, but after a year, Bud decided he didn’t like being fucked. Maybe that was when Mason should’ve left.
He looked into Vlash’s blue eyes. There was no way the dangerous elf wearing some kind of tiny gold crown was going to let a human fuck him.
But Vlash had asked, and there was only one thing Mason wanted to do.
“I want to fuck you.”
Vlash groaned. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Mason blinked, sure he’d misheard. “You were?”
“It’s been a while.”
“Same.” Hopefully, he remembered what to do.
That tiny smile at the corner of Vlash’s lips formed again. “How long?”
“Since I was with someone, or since I fucked someone?”
“The latter. I don’t care about the former.”
“Four years.”
Vlash laughed, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. He didn’t look any less dangerous when laughing. “Four years is nothing.”
Not to an elf, but it was to him.
“I haven’t been with a man since before I got married.”
Mason took a moment to process what that meant. Vlash had been married to a woman. “And when was that?”
“About eighty-three years ago.”
“Eighty-three years?” He knew elves lived for longer than humans, but Vlash had been married before Mason’s grandmother was born.
Vlash kept him pinned to the door. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“No, of course not.” How old was Vlash? Now was the wrong time to ask, and it didn’t matter. It was one night. “It might be for your ass in the morning.”
“I hope so.”
“I hope you have lube.” His fingers found the clasps on Vlash’s leather coat, but he couldn’t work out how to undo it.
“It arrived with a candle.” He stepped back. “I can take my own clothes off. You get yours off.”
That was much quicker. Mason watched the elf undress, shedding weapons and leather.
He pulled his shirt off, revealing pale skin, lean muscles, and old scars.
Then he tugged off his boots and undid the laces on his pants.
Vlash had the body of a twenty-year-old twink except for the scars and the whipcord muscle.
He, on the other hand, had the body of a middle-aged dentist who sometimes made it to the gym once a week. He felt old and soft, and he was so not ready to date again.
Vlash glanced over, realizing Mason hadn’t moved from the door.
“If you’ve changed your mind, you need to open the door to leave.”
Had he lost his nerve?
Vlash had grabbed him when they danced. He’d been pressed against him only moments ago; he must be aware that there were no muscles hiding beneath his clothes.
He could do this.
He toed off his shoes, as that seemed safe. The edge in Vlash’s eyes softened, but now he was watching every move, and while the only light in the room came from the candle, it was too much.
Vlash walked over barefoot, pants unlaced and struggling to hold on to his hips. The hard length of his dick was trying to escape the laces and leather. “Do you need some help with all those buttons?”
Mason didn’t know the right answer, and it didn’t matter because then Vlash was undoing the buttons of his shirt as if all he wanted was Mason naked.