Sweet Lips
The music pulsed like a second heartbeat in Eli’s chest. The bar had filled out, bodies moving and brushing in the background, but at their little table in the corner, everything still belonged to just the two of them. Damien flagged the waiter down with a smooth flick of his fingers, leaning forward to speak low. He topped off Eli’s whiskey without asking, then ordered himself another and two shots of something clear and evil-looking.
Damien
You’re not backing out on me now, are you😏?
Damien
Good. Because I’m feeling generous… but I also like a little risk.
The waiter dropped the shots on the table with a soft clink. Damien slid one across to Eli, the condensation slick beneath his fingers. Eli watched the way Damien’s thumb lingered at the rim, then lifted his own glass.
Damien
Cheers to a wild night.
Damien
Before we drink, I do have one condition though. If you cough, you’re paying for the next round.
Damien
Then I might have to start taking you more seriously.
Eli raised the shot to his lips, locked eyes with Damien, and knocked it back. The burn hit hard. For a split second, he felt the cough rise. But he bit it down, swallowing it with all the pride he could muster. Not because he couldn’t afford another round, but because he needed Damien to know he was more than a pretty mouth and gloss.
Damien
Damn. Now I’m impressed.
The night unraveled like a slow striptease, each drink peeling back a layer of hesitation. They leaned in closer with every sip, their thighs brushing more deliberately, their laughter curling hot and unspoken in the narrow space between them. Damien’s voice dipped into something silkier, darker, and each time he leaned closer to speak, Eli felt his thoughts melt away like ice on warm skin.
Damien
That mouth of yours. It’s got a lot to answer for.
Eli
You’ve been obsessed with my mouth all night.
Damien
I’ve been obsessed with it for weeks. But tonight? It's making it impossible for me to behave.
Eli
Well, you haven’t leapt up on me yet. That’s progress.
Or are you just holding back because we’re in public… and you’re a little shy?
His voice dipped low, every word slow and sweet, like he was feeding Damien something sticky he wouldn’t be able to swallow. Their knees touched beneath the table. Eli didn’t move.
Damien
Careful, sweetheart.
Keep talking like that and I’ll show you exactly how far I can take you.
Eli
Mmm. Promises.
You keep making them with your eyes, but I’m still sitting here untouched. Tease.
Damien
That mouth is going to get you in trouble.
That shut Eli up for a second. Not because he was scared but because he could feel it now. The way Damien’s hunger had sharpened. The way his hand twitched on the table like it didn’t know whether to grab his drink or Eli’s thigh.
Eli
Maybe I want trouble. The kind that starts with your hands under the table and ends with me forgetting my own name.
Damien
Fuck. Are you trying to kill me.
He leaned forward, close enough for his breath to trace over Damien’s jaw, just shy of touch. He let his lips hover there, cruel and knowing.
Eli
No...😏more like motivating you, so that you can start putting all those late night chats into action
And there it was. The final match to Damien’s gasoline thoughts. In an instant, his brain flipped to hot, dizzy images of Eli bent over the table, shirt shoved up, his mouth full of apologies or praises or maybe just Damien’s cock. The bar around them vanished. His fingers twitched with the need to grab, to take, to see if Eli was really as loud as he’d imagined in the dark, alone, with nothing but texts to keep him sane.
But he held himself still. Jaw clenched. Breathing slow. A single, ragged breath away from letting go.
“Eli you are playing with fire. But no. Not here. Not yet.” Damien screamed in his head.
They were just there for drinks. That was the plan.
Damien stood up so fast the stool scraped against the floor. Eli blinked at him, surprised, maybe even disappointed.
Damien
Come dance with me.
The words came out low and thick, like he was already sweating them.
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