Chapter Twelve #2
“I’m sure we will.” Elouan sipped his wine while watching Jules study his serving of lasagna. One of the first discoveries Elouan made in this realm had been the wonders of restaurant food, since his new-found roommate only cooked breakfast.
Jules took the tiniest bite with his fork, closed his eyes, and moaned once more, a blissful smile on his face. He swallowed. “This is amazing. Thank you for bringing me here. How have I existed all my life without this?” He pointed his fork toward his serving of lasagna.
Elouan could barely eat for watching Jules’s enjoyment.
He sipped his wine, draining the water glass instead.
Somehow over the course of dinner, he managed two glasses of Chianti and stopped, used to pacing himself so others wouldn’t notice his sober state after he’d drunk enough to inebriate five humans.
“Do you come here often?” Jules asked.
“Actually, no. A coworker suggested the place. He brings his wife here for their date nights. But I wouldn’t turn down the chance to come back.” He raised his brows in question.
“I wouldn’t mind coming back.”
Yes, message received and answered. Maybe they could try the fettuccine Alfredo next time.
The server returned after they finished their meals. “Would you care for dessert? Our tiramisu is to die for.”
Jules leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“No, thank you,” Elouan told the server. “Please bring me the check.”
Elouan paid the bill, and they stepped out of the restaurant onto the sidewalk. He wasn’t ready to let the night end. “Do you like to dance?”
Jules pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I’m taking it you don’t mean in my room when no one can see.
When no one wants to see. My dancing would be a cruel thing to inflict on another.
If you’re asking about in public, I’ve never been.
If you’re willing to make my apologies to anyone I hurt while I dash to the bathroom in shame, I’m up for that. ”
Good enough, though Elouan doubted how anyone who moved with such natural grace could be bad at dancing. Daire came to mind. Okay. Yes, he could see. But Daire didn’t have Jules’s innate poise.
Daire also, to use a Terran phrase, didn’t give a rat’s ass what people thought of him.
The evening had cooperated, being pleasant enough with just their jackets. Elouan extended his arm, which Jules took. “The club is only a few blocks away.”
A bass beat throbbed through the air as they drew closer and finally entered a nondescript two-story brick building. The music grew in volume the moment they passed through the door. They each provided IDs, then entered together.
The club was full on a Friday night, with a rather young crowd, likely many college students. Elouan suddenly felt ancient at just shy of thirty. He leaned close enough to be heard over the music. “What would you like to drink?”
“Nothing alcoholic,” Jules replied, “but I love the look of some of those drinks.” He nodded toward a server’s loaded tray.
“I know just the thing. Wait right here.” Elouan worked his way through the crowd to the bar, returning with two drinks. He couldn’t help noticing the appreciative glances being cast Jules’s way. Made his dragon want to stake a claim.
What? His dragon wanted to claim a human? Not possible. Elouan handed Jules a drink, then guided him toward a table with a proprietary hand on his lower back that appeased his dragon’s protective instincts.
They both removed their jackets, draping them over their chairs, then sat.
“What is this?” Jules asked, eyeing the frothy concoction in a stemmed glass, as opposed to Elouan’s mug of beer.
“Take a sip. I thought you’d like this.” Elouan watched carefully, waiting for Jules’s reaction.
Jules sipped the drink through a straw and smiled. He probably moaned, but with the music so loud, who could tell? “This is good! I taste coconut and pineapple.”
“It’s a virgin colada.”
Jules relaxed, taking another sip while watching the dancers out on the dance floor, tapping the fingers of his free hand on the tabletop. Just when Elouan thought Jules didn’t truly like the drink, he took another sip.
And another. He’d nearly finished the drink when Elouan stood, extending a hand. “Would you like to dance?”
Jules gave a sly smile. “I’m warning you; this won’t be pretty.” He added a dramatic, “Oh no! Run now. Save yourself.”
“You don’t have to dance if you don’t want to.” Something else to talk to Moira about one day if she and Elouan ever met. A desirable young man like Jules should be out dating, dancing, enjoying life.
Elouan’s inner dragon balked at the idea of Jules dating someone else, something they both agreed on. If only his dragon could communicate with words instead of impressions. He got the sense that his inner beast kept desperately trying to tell him something.
“Are you alright?” Jules asked. “You have a funny look on your face.
“Oh, what? Sorry. Just distracted.” Elouan and his dragon would have a good long, well, not talk, but communication later.
He nodded toward a man giving dancing his all, but with no sense of rhythm whatsoever.
The human version of Daire. “I don’t think your moves will be a problem.
All you have to do is enjoy yourself. To hell with what anyone else might think.
Just move to the music.” Just move with me.
Jules placed his hand on Elouan’s, slowly rising from his seat. “Just remember, you asked for this. You cannot hold me accountable for crushed toes or embarrassment.”
Elouan led him to the dance floor, finding a relatively clear spot. His dragon wouldn’t react well to someone getting too close. Snapping at other dancers might not go over well with club security.
Jules studied the other dancers for a moment, gently swaying, then grinned, his lithe body moving to the beat with uncanny timing. No one around them would believe he couldn’t dance. Elouan certainly didn’t.
Now and then, Jules would observe a couple performing a new move, then seamlessly incorporate the action into his own dancing. A mimic. A natural mimic, and nowhere near the atrocious dancer he’d despaired at being.
Elouan learned to dance at a young age for social functions, then relearned upon entering the human world, watching videos on the internet or couples in clubs.
He definitely didn’t watch Curtis, who danced as badly as Jules described himself, his garish club clothing further compelling people to look. That might’ve been the point.
All thoughts fled but keeping time with Jules, who whirled and rubbed his back against Elouan’s chest. The person dancing near them actually did a bump and grind with his partner, but Jules likely wasn’t ready to go so far. May Elouan still be around when he was.
Elouan ran a hand lightly over Jules's chest, not restraining but holding tightly enough so Jules knew he was desired. One song became two, then three, then four. Dancers around them came and went, but Elouan and Jules remained.
Must be the resilience of youth, for Jules possessed the stamina of a dragon, head thrown back, eyes closed, the elegant column of his neck exposed. Elouan buried his face in the crook of that neck. The sudden urge came over him to bite.
What? A mating bite? Here, in front of witnesses? Elouan never wanted the dance to end, never wanted to let go, only barely restraining himself from taking a bite.
He pulled away, taking Jules’s mouth instead. Jules brought one hand to Elouan’s cheek, while wrapping Elouan’s braid around the other. Never once did he miss a beat.
Elouan could barely dance, his cock so hard and aching. He wanted this man. Needed this man more than air. Once more the urge came over him, bite, bite, bite! Make him yours. Never be apart from him again.
A change in tempo provided a reason to pull away.
Elouan’s hands shook. Goddess! What had come over him?
He’d nearly given a mating bite to a human!
With witnesses. No going back. One bite would forever tie him to someone who might find his true nature appalling.
Even more unnerving? Elouan’s dragon was totally on board with the idea.
He’s human! He’s mate!