Knight smiled when he glanced at Elliot, who looked like the picture of joy despite every single item of clothing on him being black. He sipped his caramel-flavored latte, nibbled on the gingerbread man, all huddled up in his new jacket with a wide furry collar, the long scarf, and a beanie.
Knight remembered his first meeting with The Count and how full of mean looks he’d been. The Elliot Knight got to know, the one underneath the makeup and the crazy Fane-loving stories always had a smile for Knight, was excited to talk history, and had the prettiest dark eyes that showered Knight with adoration any time their gazes met.
They left the area that was strictly dedicated to shopping and continued down the street, which featured two long lines of small Christmas trees decorated by children for a contest of their own. The bright lights slid over Elliot’s handsome features, only making his reddened nose and cheekbones seem more adorable. Despite being—as Knight found out—twenty-five, Elliot looked much younger than that, with a long body and angular hips.
Day by day Knight saw him transform from the half-starved Count to a pretty young man with a contagious smile and energy to fuel two people. His long legs, which felt so good wrapped around Knight’s hips, moved in springy steps, and slim, elegant fingers that barely fit into the leather gloves Knight got for him were wrapped around the colorful cup as they walked.
Knight had been right all along. The Count was an alter ego born out of low self-esteem, but the moment Knight intervened to show Elliot a different way, William Fane slowly faded from his memory. For Knight’s sake, Elliot even wore black body tape over the portrait on his chest.
Knight grinned and swallowed some of his coffee, breathing out vapor and disturbing the snow spiraling around them. “Good. You can have another one later. Soon your hip bones won’t be poking me when we fuck.”
Elliot grinned back at him. “You want to get me fat so you can eat me.” He bit the gingerbread man’s head off.
Knight leaned in and pressed their lips together before licking off some of the crumbs left behind on Elliot’s mouth. The sugary taste melted on his tongue and made him smile wider. “In your dreams. You’re just jealous I won our bet.”
Elliot crossed the road along with Knight. He ignored the last comment and progressed to a jab at Knight himself. “You sure? I could provide some icing.” He wiggled his eyebrows and only then it hit Knight Elliot was talking about giving head, not cannibalism.
His breath caught, and he briefly looked away to the street before returning Elliot’s gaze just because he didn’t want to seem like he was afraid of anything, even the concept of taking another man’s cock into his mouth. Now that he was indulging in Elliot’s delicious lips any time he wished to, it was hard to comprehend what had stopped him from kissing guys before that. It used to be something he simply didn’t do. He didn’t want any suggestions that the sex would be anything more than that, but that proved a completely unnecessary precaution. How could he know if it wouldn’t be the same with sucking dick?
Unlike taking on the passive role in anal, blowing someone didn’t feel completely off the table. He did fantasize about it several times, more often than not only briefly and without detail, but considering how much some of his partners enjoyed doing it to him it couldn’t really be completely horrible. In his mind it wasn’t very different from giving a girl oral sex, even if some people would say the act of taking a cock into one’s body was emasculating by definition. He wasn’t entirely sure he agreed. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to give it a try either, but if Elliot’s angular, tempting body tasted so good everywhere else, why wouldn’t his dick be yet another treat?
“How about some dick-painting on your chest?” Knight asked in the end as they followed a paved path through a small park and toward the local museum.
Elliot narrowed his eyes at him as he swallowed the last of his gingerbread. “You just want to put your dick on William’s face.”
Knight scowled. “Jesus Christ. Don’t mention that scumbag. Don’t want my dick anywhere near him,” he said as they passed the fence and crossed the yard in front of the two-hundred-year old brick building. A large wooden board in front of it proclaimed a seasonal exhibition about William Fane, organized to celebrate the new finds on the grounds belonging to the Kings of Hell MC.
Elliot laughed out loud. “Oh, my God! Your face. That’s just priceless. Anyway, I’m so excited about this.”
“They wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for me,” Knight added with pride swelling in his chest as they walked up the steps and entered the hot interior of the museum.