The driving rhythm of the bass vibrated the walls of Elixir and the music spilled out into the street. The doormen seemed oblivious as one checked IDs while the other collected the five dollar cover charge. Jordan shivered as he waited in line. No doubt the others—Matt, Jessica, and Parker—were already inside, drinking without him. As the line moved slowly, he huddled deeper into his coat. A few passers-by stared at him, obviously finding great amusement in his predicament. At sixty degrees and only a slight breeze, most were not greatly affected by the chill night air. Jordan, however, felt like he was going to freeze to death.
As his turn at the door finally came, Jordan pulled out his wallet. He handed the first man the small, government-issued card and held the man’s dubious gaze. Jordan knew he looked young—nineteen or so by mortal years. Then the man looked down at the card. Jordan forced his expression to remain neutral when all he wanted to do was laugh.
“Go on,” the man said, handing the card back to Jordan by pinching it between his thumb and index finger. The gesture reminded Jordan that, despite the government’s recognition of elves, there were those who did not feel the same, or at the least, simply didn’t know what to think at all. Judging by the man’s reaction, Jordan figured the doorman was of the former mindset.
After paying the cover, Jordan walked into the club and was immediately assaulted by the thunderous music. He scanned the dark room, searching through the mass of black-clad bodies for Matt and the others. Nearly every surface in the club was painted black. Steel bars acted as footrests along the bottom of each of the three bars, and steel catwalks lined the walls and ceiling. A steel staircase led up to the second level and there, people leaned over the rails and danced along the catwalks. Jordan marveled at the ability of the general drunk populace of the place; he was constantly waiting for someone to fall. The only lights in the entire club were one of two fluorescent colors: blue or purple.
On the stage, a gothic band Jordan had never seen before was playing to a crowd of yelling, moshing, and near-fucking people. Jordan was amazed that clothing wasn’t optional, as many wore very little at all. Just as he had nearly given up, Jordan spotted Matt sitting at a table near the bar. Beside Matt, a head full of fire engine red curls rose and a ruby smile greeted Jordan. He started for the table, looking for Parker.
“Parker’s here,” Jessica shouted over the music. “Somewhere. I think he went looking for you.”
Jordan nodded and twisted the chair around to straddle it. “How long have you all been here?”
“About twenty minutes,” Matt said as he leaned over to give Jordan a kiss. “Glad you could make it. Wanna dance?”
Jordan grinned and stood, pulling Matt up with him. “Anytime.”
He squeezed through the crowd on the black lacquered dancer floor. When he found a small opening, he turned around and pulled Matt close. The pulse of the music settled deep inside him as they began to dance, moving their bodies together in a rhythm that left nothing to the imagination. Jordan gasped and bit his bottom lip as Matt’s body grazed across his own. Then he felt another body behind him and an arm slid around his waist. Thinking it was Parker, since the arm was definitely a man’s, Jordan simply leaned back.
He rocked his body in time to the hard rhythm of the music and quickly found himself sandwiched between Matt and Parker. He opened to Matt’s sudden kiss, moaning as their tongues met. When he felt his hair brush away from his neck, Jordan reached back with one hand and pulled Parker’s head to his throat. Parker knew how sensitive the nape of his neck was, and as Matt’s kiss turned more heated and insistent, Parker’s kisses on Jordan’s neck mirrored them. A soft tongue flicked across his skin, followed by the slightest nip. Jordan shuddered hard and groaned as both men caught him between their bodies. Then Parker began to move away. Jordan’s protest died out in Matt’s kiss.
“Your taste is unique, one that I cannot forget.”
Jordan felt every inch of his flesh ripple. That voice did not belong to Parker. He pulled away from Matt’s mouth and spun around, but there was no one there, only the others dancing around them. He looked back to Matt.
“Who the fuck was that?”
Matt pulled him close again and resumed their dance, despite Jordan’s slight resistance. “Dorian Baptiste,” he said. “Owner of Elixir.”
Jordan remained silent and finally pulled away from Matt altogether. “I need a drink.”
Matt shrugged and took Jordan’s hand, pulling him out of the crowd and towards the bar. The bar area was no less crowded than the dance floor and it took several minutes before Jordan was able to get close enough to even order. Just as he opened his mouth to tell the bartender what he wanted, the words completely escaped him. In a doorway behind the bar, leaning against the doorframe, was a tall man with long chestnut hair. Pale blue eyes stared back at Jordan and another chill ran through him. He tore his gaze away from the man and looked back to the bartender.
“Rum and coke,” he said. When the bartender turned away once more, Jordan looked back towards the doorway. The man was gone. Jordan’s drink was set in front of him then, but as he started to count out the money to pay, the bartender shook his head.
“On the house,” he shouted over the noise. He turned away before Jordan had a chance to ask anything more.
Jordan looked around and giving up on finding the man again, he took a sip of his drink and turned to squeeze back through the crowd. As soon as he made it back to the table, he sat down and drank half of his rum and coke in one swallow. As he set the cup down on the table, he met Matt’s steady gaze. Jessica and Parker were nowhere in sight.
“Where did the others go?”
Matt grinned. “Parker’s in town for the weekend. Where do you think?”
Jordan laughed and shook his head. “That explains things.”
He looked back up at Matt. “Yeah, just a bit weirded out, I guess. I thought that guy was Parker.”
“Dorian likes to do that,” Matt said with a shrug. “He likes to check out the new faces personally.”
“How do you know so much about him?”
“Hearsay. I’ve been here before, remember?”
Jordan nodded and looked back out at the crowd. That’s when he saw him again. Caught between a woman in front of him and a man behind him, Dorian Baptiste danced. One arm was tight around the woman’s waist, holding her body close to his. Jordan’s mouth ran dry as he watched every sinuous move the owner made, the glide of muscles beneath smooth skin tantalizing him. Dorian’s black silk shirt shimmered in the purple and blue lights, and his black leather pants hugged every graceful curve of his body from the waist down. His hair was damp with sweat and his eyes were closed, but Jordan could still feel that blue stare settling somewhere deep inside him.
Jordan shook his head quickly, bringing his attention back to Matt. He grinned sheepishly, but knew Matt wasn’t buying simply from the look on his face. “What?”
“Nothing,” Matt said, throwing his arms up and shaking his head. “Just wondered if you had come back to this world or not.”
Jordan looked back to the dance floor, but Dorian was gone again. “Yeah, I’m here. I’m fine.”
He gave Matt a dubious look. “Oh, come on. A man that fucking gorgeous? I bet he has men and women at his beck and call,” Jordan laughed. He fell silent, however, when Matt’s gaze shifted. When Jordan turned around, his heart nearly stopped.
Sensuous lips curled up into a smile, revealing pristine white teeth. A spellbinding gaze held Jordan in its grasp, rendering him utterly speechless. A slender hand extended towards him.
“My name is Dorian Baptiste. I always find it a pleasure to meet those who are new to my club.”
Jordan looked down at the hand and back up at Dorian’s face. Swallowing hard, he took the man’s hand and gave it a tentative shake. “Pleasure. I’m Jordan Shields.”
Dorian’s smile was almost as haunting as his stare, and Jordan found himself standing to look at the man at an equal level. Dorian slid his thumb lightly over Jordan’s hand, and with a gentle tug, Jordan followed the man out onto the dance floor, unable to find the words to protest.
Before he could say a word, Jordan found himself pressed tightly to Dorian. Their bodies slid together in time with the steady pulse of the music and every brush sent waves of sensations through Jordan. When Dorian drew closer, Jordan offered no protest. When Dorian’s lips met his, Jordan opened for him without hesitation. He snaked his arms around Dorian’s neck and their dance stilled as their tongues touched, stroking across each other in a slow, drugging dance of their own.
Dear gods. This man was dangerous.
“What are you?” Jordan whispered as Dorian slowly broke their kiss.
Dorian chuckled. “What am I?” He brushed his lips across Jordan’s cheek to his ear. “I think,” he whispered, “the question would be: what are you, Mr. Shields.”
Jordan bit his lip and closed his eyes as a shudder ran through him. He didn’t bother to stop Dorian as the man lifted his hair.
“Ah, I see,” Dorian said. “That explains the way you taste.”
“The way I taste?” Jordan tried to turn his head, but Dorian held his hair, preventing movement.
“Yes.” Dorian tilted Jordan’s head down slightly and slid his tongue along the curve of Jordan’s ear. When he reached the pointed tip, he sucked it into his mouth. Had it not been for Dorian’s other arm around his waist, Jordan would have hit the floor then.
“Feel good?” Dorian murmured as he licked the tip of Jordan’s ear. Jordan could only nod and hold tighter to Dorian. “I can make you feel so much better, Jordan. If only you let me.”
“I…” Jordan lost his train of thought as Dorian’s tongue flicked over his ear before he sucked it back into his mouth. “Gods, what are you doing to me?”
“I want you, Jordan,” Dorian whispered. “I want to taste you again. Deeper. And longer.”
“I can’t…” Jordan gasped as Dorian’s tongue slid slowly over the curve of his throat.
“Shh,” Dorian purred softly. “I would never hurt you.”
“But you don’t even know me.” Jordan knew it was a weak protest, and in truth, it took all he had to form even something so simple. Dorian’s kisses on his neck drew out shiver after shiver, rendering Jordan incapable of any coherent, sensible thought.
“I want to know you, Jordan. I want to touch you.” Dorian placed a light kiss to the hollow of Jordan’s throat. “To taste you.” His lips drifted across Jordan’s neck, leaving a trail of tingling heat. Dorian moved his mouth back to up Jordan’s ear and whispered, “to devour you.”
Despite the warning signals going off in his mind, Jordan was unable to resist. The need within him for something more tangible than intimate whispers on a dance floor consumed him until the only thing he could say or think was, “please.”
A soft whimper of protest escaped Jordan as Dorian pulled away. With a tug on his hand, Jordan followed the man off of the dance floor and up one of the metal staircases. Several others stared at them, many looking quite jealous, as Dorian led Jordan by the hand down the catwalk. When they reached another staircase, Jordan looked up and swallowed hard. Only a single door stood at the top. This was it then. He had officially lost his mind. Yet when Dorian started up the steps, Jordan was right behind him, nervous and biting at his lip again in breathless anticipation.
Dorian opened the door and stood to the side, ushering Jordan into the room with a graceful sweep of his hand. Jordan walked in and looked around in stunned silence. It was an apartment, complete with an entryway and several long hallways on both sides. A spacious living room was directly in front of him, and to its left, a small kitchen. The apartment was decorated in much the same way as the club downstairs, even down to the steel piping of the black leather-covered furniture. With a flip of a switch, blue and purple lights flickered on overhead in the living room.
“Make yourself at home,” Dorian said with a cryptic smile. He brushed past Jordan and started towards the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
Jordan resisted the urge to say, ‘yeah, you,’ and instead opted for something to break the awkwardness of this sudden situation. “I don’t suppose you have any rum up here, do you?”
Dorian chuckled as he opened up a lower cabinet in the kitchen. “Any particular brand suit you?” He crouched down and looked up in Jordan’s direction. Jordan shook his head slowly. “Then a surprise it is.” Dorian reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle. He then stood and opened another cabinet and took out a small tumbler. Once back in the living room, he set both on the steel coffee table.
“You don’t drink?” Jordan asked as he sat down on the edge of the couch, taking care not to sit too close. Not yet, anyway.
“I do,” Dorian said with a nod, “but I prefer my poison a little more…” When his words trailed off, Jordan looked over at him. “Delicate.”
Jordan itched to touch those lips, to run his fingers over them and then kiss them. He wanted to know what Dorian Baptiste sounded like when he cried out in pleasure. Or if he cried out at all.
“I do on occasion.”
Jordan’s eyes widened. “You can read minds?”
Dorian smiled slowly. “I have been known to, but with you, I can see your thoughts reflected in your eyes.” He moved closer, sliding across the leather cushions until their thighs were touching. “You desire me,” he whispered as he slipped a hand beneath Jordan’s hair to turn his head. “Yet you are nervous. Why?”
Jordan opened his mouth to respond but found that he really had no answer. He had no clue why he was so nervous, but he definitely was. “I don’t know.”
Instead of answering, Dorian leaned forward and brushed his lips across Jordan’s. A soft, almost desperate sound escaped Jordan as Dorian’s gentle insistence pushed him back. He shifted and spread his legs, and Dorian knelt between them, slipping his tongue into Jordan’s mouth. Jordan moaned softly and unable to keep them to himself any longer, he moved his hands over Dorian’s shoulders and down his back. The ripple of muscles, growing tight and relaxing with every move Dorian made, was fascinating. Sweet gods, the man was beautiful.
“Touch me, Jordan,” Dorian murmured on Jordan’s lips. He reached up and pulled one of Jordan’s hands down, sliding it over his chest as he held himself up on one arm.
When Jordan’s fingertips touched the waistband of Dorian’s leather pants, he looked up to Dorian’s face. He popped the snap on the pants and slipped his hand inside. Much to his surprise–and delight–Dorian wore nothing underneath. Hard flesh met Jordan’s fingers and he was rewarded by a slight catch in Dorian’s breath. Those blue eyes disappeared beneath long, dark lashes as Jordan wrapped his fingers around Dorian’s cock.
“Yes,” Dorian breathed. He groaned softly and rocked his hips forward, sliding his length through Jordan’s fist. “So warm.”
Jordan was breathless. Utterly breathless. Never in a million years did he ever think he’d have such a beautiful creature, right in the palm of his hand. Literally. The hardness in his hand sent a direct message to Jordan’s brain, short-circuiting it within seconds. Taste. He needed to taste Dorian. Now.
“Lie down,” he said. Dorian acquiesced without a word, only a knowing smile on those full lips. Jordan sat up on his knees and with a hearty tug, pulled Dorian’s pants down to his knees. The sight of Dorian hard and wanting was intoxicating. “Gods,” Jordan whispered. He looked back up to Dorian’s face. “I want to taste you.”
Without giving Dorian a chance to say a word, Jordan leaned down and drew his tongue up the graceful line of Dorian’s cock. A sharp intake of breath greeted him and he smiled. He circled the base with his thumb and forefinger, then rolled his tongue over the tip. Dorian shuddered and slid his fingers through Jordan’s hair, pulling it away from his face as he thrust up.
Hearing his name on such a breathy sigh was nearly Jordan’s undoing. He had never been driven so close to the edge by a simple whisper. He rolled his gaze up to hold Dorian’s as he opened his mouth. Blue eyes painted dark with lust focused sharply on him as Jordan closed his lips around the head of Dorian’s cock. Then he closed his own eyes and slid further down, swallowing well over half of Dorian’s length.
Hard, hot flesh. Those sweet drops from the tip were as potent as any elixir. Jordan could drown himself in it. He pulled back slowly and rolled his tongue around the tip again. When he opened his eyes, he found himself pinned by a near-black gaze. Dorian stroked Jordan’s cheek softly and slipped a finger into his mouth. Jordan released his cock to suck on the finger, swirling his tongue around it. Dorian’s skin wasn’t salty and rough like any other man’s. His skin was sweet and supple, smooth to the touch. He tasted of cloves and ginger, with a hint of cinnamon. And something more, something rich.
He watched as Dorian withdrew his finger and sucked it into his own mouth, as if he wanted to savor the taste of himself mingled with Jordan. Those dark eyes glittered, reflecting the purple and blue lights in their blackened depths. Jordan had long since forgotten that he wanted to suck Dorian’s cock. All he could think about was seeing those lips wrapped around him. A smile spread slowly over Dorian’s lips and Jordan knew his desire was laid bare once more.
Dorian sat up and finished removing his pants. He then rid Jordan of his in the blink of an eye. For the first time in all of his existence, Jordan felt self-conscious as he sat naked in front of another man. Dorian gave him little chance to ponder on the matter and slipped an arm beneath Jordan, turning him around as he dropped gracefully to his knees on the floor. Kneeling between Jordan’s legs, Dorian placed light kisses up one thigh and then the other, lingering near the top but going no higher. Only when Dorian pulled away slightly did Jordan remember to breathe.
“So hard,” Dorian said as he stroked a finger up Jordan’s inner thigh. “It’s so hard to sit here, watching the rhythm of your breathing, watching the way your body moves into my touch, and yet I cannot take what I wish.”
Jordan blinked several times, unsure if he had heard Dorian correctly. “Why can’t you?”
Dorian smiled. It was an almost wistful gesture, as if he held regret within him. “Because I am afraid of wanting too much.”
Jordan sat up and slid his fingers through Dorian’s hair, tilting his head back to see his eyes. “I want you,” he whispered. “I want to feel you, Dorian.”
Dorian closed his eyes and turned his head enough to kiss Jordan’s palm softly. “To hear my name on your lips…”
Jordan turned his head back around. “Then give me the chance to say it when you’re buried inside me.”
A soft sigh fell from Dorian’s lips as they parted. Jordan closed the distance between them this time, wanting to regain the feeling of barely-leased passion they both had been caught in only moments before. In reality, it didn’t take long. The moment their lips met, Dorian’s hand circled Jordan’s cock, drawing out a cry from Jordan as he stroked it. Jordan fell back onto the couch. Every slow stroke was torture, pure exquisite torture.
He lifted his head just enough to see Dorian’s gaze shift from his face to the glistening tip of his cock. Then those lips parted and a soft, pale pink tongue slipped out to flick across the tip. Jordan gasped and his head fell back once again. He reached down and held Dorian’s hair back, his breath catching as Dorian rolled his tongue around his cock. Then there was warmth. Sweet, blessed heat. Jordan cried out as the slick velvet of Dorian’s mouth engulfed him, surrounding him in a warm, silken sheath.