by Z. Allora
A doggy happy dance and bark came after Drake’s name, echoing what Blaze shouldn’t be feeling when he should be taking solace this thing was almost over. They’d have sex and part company.
“I can’t harbor fantasies—”
Knock.
He’s here! A thrill of excitement skittered through Blaze like he stepped onto the medal podium for the very first time. Ignoring his desire and fear at seeing Drake, Blaze fixated on the fact the guy showed up ten minutes early, which was rude.
He stomped over to the door. Well, he’d tell him— “Luke? Oh, hey.”
Guilt slithered over him as he ate the disappointment of it not being Drake.
His brother came in and shut the door. He patted Ice on the head as he studied Blaze. “You look nice. All dressed up for your big date, huh?”
Blaze wore his perfect-fitting black jeans and his favorite gold silk shirt with the top two silver buttons undone… but not because he wanted to impress anyone. They happened to be his favorite pieces. Besides, he wore this since he didn’t know where they were going. “It’s just dinner. How do you—”
“He’s a nice guy.” Luke straightened with a disturbing smirk.
“Oh?” When did Mr. NoOneIsGoodEnoughForYou have the opportunity to form an opinion?
“Yeah, I like him. I gave him a ride to the rink to pick up his car. He’s down-to-earth and smart. I guess he spends his time playing his guitar, watching science videos, reading, and stalking you.”
“Oh?” He searched for other words that would get more information without indicting him as curious, but nothing came.
“Both Anna and I think he’ll be good for you.”
“Do you, now?” His usual modus operandi of digging in his heels rode Blaze hard.
Luke smirked. “Yeah. About time you went out on a date.”
“I go out.” Not on dates, but he got what he wanted, which, after all, wasn’t that what dates were all about? People could pretend otherwise, but—
“Do I have to spell it out?” Luke crossed his arms over his chest and took on the big-brother tone.
Blaze refused to squirm like he had scratched Luke’s jeep going through a drive-through. Though his glare probably screamed Luke should be specific.
“I think you hanging out with someone for longer than it takes to have sex is positive. Drake is a nice guy, and you should give him a chance.”
He didn’t want confirmation of that, since Luke was a good judge of character, nor did he seek Luke’s seal of approval. Blaze growled, “Yeah, well, don’t pick out china—”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Blaze steeled himself, but that didn’t stop his heart from mimicking Ice’s happy circle dance at the door.
“Who are you picking out china for?” Without waiting for an answer, Drake gave Blaze a peck on the cheek, handed him one of the most sophisticated rainbow-scaled stuffed dragons he’d ever seen—he even had a rainbow ribbon around his neck—shook Luke’s hand, and started petting Ice.
“Um… thanks” was all the brilliance that would work its way out of Blaze’s mouth.
“Luke, I’ve always thought simple white china seemed good on the table. Then you could simply change the smaller plates, the chargers, or the table arrangements and linens, giving a fresh dining experience. That’s what my mother does.”
“A man who knows what a charger is. Explain that to Blaze, would you?” Luke chuckled and patted Blaze on the back. “And remember to invite me to the wedding so I can say I told you so.”
“Wedding?” Drake gave Blaze a rock-star grin filled with sin, suggestion, and… more sin. Then he turned to Luke. “I appreciate your optimism and blessings, but let’s let Blaze catch up. I don’t want to scare him. Once I lock this down, you and I can talk venues.”
Venues! Weddings!
Drake and Luke shared a chuckle as Blaze tried to deny this outrageousness by making a noise, which sounded like a cross between a laugh and a wheeze.
Not that he’d ever thought about weddings, forever, or any such, but he’d always seen white tuxes and bouquets of wildflowers on the tables and—
There would be no weddings!
Ice danced in a circle, barking happily like he was offering to carry the rings.
“Have fun,” Luke called out as he left.
Staring at Drake didn’t help calm Blaze down in the least.
The man could have stepped off the cover of Guitar Idol magazine. Drake’s hair cascaded down in long waves over his shoulders and tucked behind one ear to highlight his lickable earrings.
He swept his tongue out and toyed with his lip ring, making Blaze want to do the same.
The royal blue jacket Drake wore, which had the arms pushed up to his elbows, was the same shade as his eyes. His indigo T-shirt was paired with tight dark blue jeans, and a shiny pair of boots added to the stunning image he made.
His guitar was the only thing missing, which might be good because that would have puddle-ized Blaze in a heartbeat. Blaze hated that he wanted to be the president of the Drake Keys fan club.
Granted, Drake happened to be gorgeous. No news there, but the comfortable humorous interaction he had with Luke meant Blaze couldn’t safely write him off as a pretty face. His stomach felt even more jumpy now than before his first moments on Olympic ice. Damn.
Blaze swallowed, searching for words, and then realized he still cuddled the stuffed dragon. “Thank you for him. He’s great.”
“I thought your dragon might be lonely, and maybe Flame wanted some company.”
Did he? Was his loneliness and longing so obvious? No, dammit, he had plans. Didn’t he? As long as his ankles held, he’d try for gold again in four more years, and then he’d finally have a life and do all the things he wanted to do.
Between now and then, he’d get his physical needs met, and after, if he found someone he could tolerate, maybe he’d consider seeing someone. “Just ’cause Flame is alone doesn’t mean he’s lonely.”
Drake got the message, if his hands up in surrender counted. “I know. I thought he’d enjoy Smoke.”
“Smoke? Oh, the dragon’s name.” Blaze smiled in spite of the fact that Drake wasn’t high but could still charm the pants off him.
“That was the name on his tag, but you can call him whatever,” Drake hedged.
“Smoke is a great name. So, new clothing?” Blaze needed to change the direction.
Drake teased his lip with his tongue and then said, “Yeah. Can’t take you out on our first date in a T-shirt, borrowed sweats, and a spritz of Febreze.”
Well, actually, he probably could and he’d still look too mouthwatering for Blaze’s sanity, but he needed to clarify. “It’s not a date.”
“As you say, but if you call it a date, you can cross it off a never-done-it activity list.” Though somehow the smirk on Drake’s handsome face told him Drake would consider their dinner now and always a date.
This had to be a mistake! Maybe Blaze shouldn’t go.
“Ready?” Drake held out his hand.
Blaze squeezed his new dragon for support. He could do this. After setting the thoughtful gift on the counter so Ice didn’t try to hump Flame’s new boyfriend, he grabbed Drake’s hand. “Yes.”
Boyfriend?
He stared down at their interlocked fingers as they walked to Drake’s car. The only time he’d held anyone’s hand had been to help them off the ice, and well, last night in bed with Drake. But, hmm, this palm-to-palm hand-holding thing felt pretty nice. “Anna said you stopped by the rink during the tot class. Why didn’t you say hi?”
Drake rubbed a callused thumb back and forth across Blaze’s palm, sending shivers through him, along with a stab of disappointment when he let go and opened the passenger side door. “Didn’t want to bother you.”
Tamping down the urge to tell him he could have stopped by because Blaze missed him and it wouldn’t have bothered him because…. No, just no. Instead he asked, “So where are we going?”
&n
bsp; Drake drove down the almost-empty streets to town.
“We had talked about sushi. I made reservations for Tsunami, unless you’d rather go somewhere else.”
Blaze didn’t say to bed and not to sleep—even though that destination would have helped him put Drake in perspective and clear the crazy out of his mind. The meal would most likely be delicious, and begrudgingly he might want to probably, possibly, spend a bit more time with Drake before this ended. “Sounds great.”
Drake parked the car in the spot right in front of the restaurant, and while he didn’t make it around to open Blaze’s door, he did reach a hand out. Blaze stared at the offer and almost rejected the kindness, but there was no sense in being nasty, and maybe he enjoyed the novelty of holding Drake’s hand. It wasn’t a crime.
He allowed Drake to guide him up the stairs to Tsunami’s big red doors.
“Mr. Keys. Mr. Parker. Your table is ready. Please follow me,” the hostess invited.
Candles and dimmed lanterns lit the stone path through the red room. Bamboo flute music drifted through the speaker system, giving a calming quality to the restaurant’s Zen-like atmosphere. The haunting melody made Blaze think of the slow flowing movements he’d use on the ice to interpret the song.
The hostess led them past the other diners to a shadowy back corner housing the most private table, half-hidden by a shoji screen.
Drake held out the chair for Blaze. Before sitting down, Blaze pulled out a chair for Drake, then sat in the one offered.
If the hostess found musical chairs amusing, she had the good grace not to laugh. She handed them the menus and left.
“You don’t have to hold chairs or open doors for me.” Blaze let his frustration bleed into his tone.
“I know. I simply enjoy taking care of you.”
Blaze wished he could escape the tenderness of Drake’s words, but they forced him to feel. His brain was becoming gnarled with unauthorized emotion again. Finally he spat out, “You don’t have to take care of me.”
Drake tilted his head and studied him like there was something to see past his annoyance. “I know. I want to.”
Ice would have done a backflip into Drake’s lap and exposed his belly. Blaze was not his pushover traitorous puppy, so he glared at Drake.
Drake leaned toward him with a smile. “Feel free to pull out my chair, open my door, and make me coffee any time you feel like it. I rather enjoy someone thinking of me.”
Blaze hid behind the menu without really seeing the meals. “What are you going to get?”
When Drake didn’t answer, Blaze peeked over the menu and locked stares with the breath-stealing beautiful man across from him. Drake held his gaze for much longer than necessary. “What do you recommend?”
Trying not to shiver, Blaze mumbled, “Luke likes their rolls. Anna likes their bento box dinners.”
“And you?” Drake seemed a little breathless, and his dreamy smile did nothing to reinforce this not being a damned date.
Blaze’s brain scattered. “Um… everything.”
“Good to know.”
“Well, I mean, not everything. I have some definite preferences.” They might not get very far if Drake thought Blaze would bottom for him.
“And I look forward to exploring every one of your preferences.” Drake’s heated expression left little to the imagination, and what had been left became filled in by him playing with his lip ring.
Fuck! Why were Drake’s words and his tongue stroking his lip ring so fucking hot?
Skating being a conservative sport, Blaze wasn’t around many people with piercings. The lip ring drew a person’s attention to Drake’s full lips, forcing him to imagine what it might feel like. Was it cool like the silver suggested or…. “Hey, how do you take out your lip ring?”
Focusing on the practical usually provided a good defense from sexiness. Though when Drake wiggled his agile tongue about and produced the open ring lying on his tongue, it became no shield from the heat.
Blaze almost whimpered when he failed to push away the thought of how talented Drake’s tongue must be to accomplish that task. Holy Blades of Glory, he looked incredibly hot doing it. Blaze didn’t want to think of what it would feel like being licked by him.
The removal hardened Blaze. “Do you tie cherry stems that way too?”
Drake chuckled as he somehow reinserted the lip ring, hands-free.
“How did you do that?”
“There’s just a latch, not a ball. Again, I’ve had a lot of time traveling between shows.”
Blaze couldn’t imagine bumping along the highways unlatching a ring with his tongue. “Weren’t you afraid of swallowing it?”
Drake shrugged. “It’s tiny.”
The waitress came over before Blaze could follow up. “What can I get you to drink?”
Blaze didn’t know how long he could take this. Why prolong this with drinks, then dinner? “We’re ready to order. Right, Drake?”
Drake glanced at him. “Um, sure. After you.”
Fine, fine. Blaze ordered the first thing his eyes landed on. “I’ll have the teriyaki chicken dinner with vegetables, the house sake, and ice water. Please ask the chef to go extremely light on the sauce.”
“Sir?” The waitress turned her attention to Drake, gave him a warm smile, and widened her eyes. Ah, she figured she might have a shot with him.
Well, that didn’t play well in Blaze’s plan… for the evening.
“I’ll have the same, except I’ll have a Sprite, no sake. Thank you.” Drake hadn’t taken his eyes off Blaze, so he might not have noticed the waitress’s interest in him or her disappointment.
She sighed but got the hint. “I’ll put your orders right in.”
“I usually don’t do teriyaki because of the salt, or brown rice because of the carbs, but I’m going to treat myself.” Blaze had enough time to lose whatever water he’d take on.
“You must have to be careful of your diet.”
“To some extent. I watch what I eat, but I’ve been lucky with my metabolism. The thinner a skater is, the easier it is on the joints and ankles. Though Luke and Anna have always made sure I stay within a healthy range.” That was an understatement. At one point, when calorie intake had almost become an issue, thankfully they nipped it before disordered eating occurred or worse took hold.
Drake nodded and leaned toward him. “Good. What is your take on religion?”
Blaze liked the change of topics. “Aren’t religion and politics usually off the table for date conversation?”
“Good you’re acknowledging this is a date, but I think it’s a good filter to figure out compatibility up-front.”
Blaze wasn’t sure why the information mattered for a quick fuck, but whatever. “I don’t do formal religion but consider myself spiritual. You?”
“I’m a recovering Catholic and no longer practicing.” Drake’s tone suggested there was a story behind his statement.
Blaze wasn’t comfortable asking. “Oh.”
But apparently that was enough to open up the floodgates of frustration. “I can’t participate in something that thinks trans people are unnatural bombs and homosexuality is okay as long as people don’t act on it. Not to mention the sex abuse that’s gone on, not only unchecked, but purposefully buried. So, you might say me and my family parted ways with the Catholic Church. My parents attend a Unitarian congregation that I haven’t checked out yet.”
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say to the reality of too many organized religious groups.
“What about politics?” Drake pushed some of his long hair over his shoulders. Blaze wanted to comb his fingers through those strands.
Happy for an easy one, Blaze answered, “I’m Independent. Stances on issues matter to me more than tribe affiliation.”
“Me too.” Drake grinned. “I think you’ve already answered the cat-or-dog question?”
Blaze could handle a rapid-fire interview. He’d done countless ones. “Oh, is
that actually a question? Hee-hee, it’s not that I don’t like cats, I just….”
“If you could be any animal, what would you be?”
Bunny must be the wrong answer, even if Drake being so close made Blaze want to try another cuddling hug. Therefore, he went with his pat answer, reinforcing his brand. “A dragon.”
Drake smirked as if he somehow didn’t believe that to be Blaze’s real answer. “I’d be Ice.”
“A dog?” Odd choice.
Drake swept his tongue over his full lips, making Blaze’s world crash down to only focus on Drake’s mouth. What did it feel like to kiss someone with a lip ring? More to the point, what would making out with Drake feel like?
Nodding, Drake clarified, “No. Ice specifically, since he gets to sit on your lap and lick you.”
Blaze barked out a laugh. He slapped a hand over his mouth and felt his cheeks heat when he shared, “You don’t need to be a doggy to lick me.”
Drake’s mouth dropped open, and finally the corners of his mouth turned up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Blaze hoped his smirk counterbalanced his blush.
“I know what you’ve said in interviews about identifying with dragons, but what’s the real reason?”
Folding his arms over his chest, Blaze asked, “Why can’t that be the real reason?”
“Is it?” Drake actually arched his eyebrow and all. Jesus, who was this guy?
Without a clue, Blaze followed his rare need to share. “My mom and dad had given me a stuffed dragon for my birthday the year before they died. The day of my first competition, Luke insisted on bringing Flame so they’d be there in spirit with me.”
Reaching across the table, Drake grabbed Blaze’s hand. The firm grip settled his grief and allowed warmth to surround him. Everything got a little watery.
Blaze tried to shove the rawness back inside and shrugged. “Luke brought Flame to every competition, and some fans posted a picture of me hugging my dragon. They decided to nickname me the Ice Dragon.”
“Fierce,” Drake said without condescension.
