The café was quieter than Elias expected, the hum of the espresso machines and the soft clink of cups filling the space without intruding. Warm light spilled over dark wood tables, low-hanging lamps casting soft halos that seemed made for confessions and half-truths. He chose a corner booth, pulling Jun's absence into the silence with a small, almost guilty relief.
Adrian slid in across from him, the way he moved fluidly, effortless, commanding, drawing attention even when he tried not to. Suited, relaxed, the faint shadow of tattoos showing at the cuffs of his sleeves, the buzz of his presence filling the space between them. He gave Elias a look that was steady, curious, and Christ possessive, even at a distance.
"You came," Elias said, voice soft, a little playful, but not teasing enough to hide the nervous tick in his throat.
"Didn't think I'd miss it," Adrian said, leaning back, shoulders squared, hands loosely around his cup. His eyes lingered on Elias, scanning the soft curls, the tan skin, the lines of maturity softened by the warm light. "Couldn't stop thinking about that parking lot."
Elias chuckled, a low sound, brushing a curl back from his forehead. "I was thinking the same." He paused, then said, just above a whisper, "…and about who you are now.."
Adrian's gaze softened fractionally, a subtle tilt of his head. He let the silence stretch a beat longer than comfortable, just to see Elias squirm, just to see him notice.
The coffee arrived, steaming mugs placed with precision in front of them. Adrian's hand brushed Elias's as he adjusted his cup, just a touch, enough to make the air flicker between them.
"So Elias," Adrian said slowly, watching Elias carefully, "about that tattoo.."
Elias froze mid-sip, heart picking up. "What about it?" he asked, voice low, even.
Adrian leaned back slightly, letting the words sink in. His fingers tapped the rim of the mug, slow, deliberate. "You… never show it?"
"No," Elias murmured, curling a hand around his own cup, knuckles white. "…Not yet."
"Why not?" Adrian asked softly, voice rougher now, an edge creeping in that wasn't there before, curiosity and something else mixing.
Elias's lips twitched. "…Because." Because revealing it felt like admitting more than he could yet say. "…Because some things are for certain people."
Adrian's eyes dropped to his cup but lingered on the line of Elias's throat, the way his chest shifted with the sip, the curl of his jaw. "…And I'm guessing I'm not one of them yet?"
Elias let a small, teasing grin escape, almost imperceptible. "…Not tonight. Maybe someday."
Adrian's brow rose. "You're impossible," he murmured.
"Maybe," Elias said, voice dipping, unintentionally soft, silky, the kind of tone that had earned him more attention than he'd ever admitted in the past. He almost didn't realize he had slipped back into it until Adrian's gaze sharpened, catching that flicker in his voice.
Adrian's pupils dilated slightly. "…That was—"
"Old habit," Elias cut him off too quickly, too casual, masking the thrill that shot straight through him. "…Used to use it professionally."
Adrian's brow furrowed slightly, curiosity sharpening, sensing a story just behind the smile, behind the curls, behind the calm. "Professionally?" His voice was low, teasing, darkening with interest. "…Explain."
Elias shifted, letting a curl fall over his forehead, brushing it back again slowly. "…I used to dance," he admitted quietly, finally letting it out, letting Adrian see the first real crack of past life behind the calm exterior. "…Strip, actually. Stage name… Marlowe."
Adrian blinked. The pause that followed stretched between them, rich and heavy. "…Marlowe," he repeated, tasting the name, letting it roll over his tongue. "…You were a stripper?"
Elias's gaze dipped briefly, fingers playing with the edge of his cup. "…Yes. For men, for women… mostly men. Some nights for both." He let the words hang, watching Adrian absorb them, scanning every reaction. "…It was… a job. A way to… pay bills, keep control, survive. And yes… I was good at it."
Adrian's smirk was slow, deliberate, sharpening. "…Good how?"
Elias's lips curved faintly, low and teasing, letting a shadow of that old self peek through. "…Good enough to make people… want more. To want to look. To want to tip." He leaned back slightly, deliberately slow, curling his fingers around the mug. "…I had routines. Moves. Costumes. Certain songs that… worked better on certain nights."
Adrian's eyes darkened, curiosity tipping into fascination, tinged with something dangerous. "…Costumes?"
"Silk," Elias said softly, letting the word drop like silk. "…Velvet sometimes. Shirts open. Jackets loose. Lights… that mattered more than you'd think. Music… rhythm." He watched Adrian's reactions carefully, teasing, noticing the slight hitch of his breath, the narrowing of his gaze, the tiny swallow. "…Hair mattered. Smile mattered. Eyes mattered. Everything mattered. Some nights I was just a tease. Some nights I gave… more."
Adrian's fingers flexed around the cup. His voice dipped lower. "…More?"
Elias leaned forward slightly, almost imperceptibly, curling his hand over the rim of the mug, letting a small part of that seductive old rhythm thread through his movements. "…Some nights… I took control of the stage. Some nights… I let people follow. Depends on the night, the audience, the mood. Depends on me."
Adrian's eyes locked onto him, sharp, intense, trying to catalog the man across from him, the old Marlowe hidden beneath the calm father, beneath the smooth consultant. He didn't realize he was leaning slightly closer, drawn by every careful movement, every low, soft syllable. "…And this… is who you were?"
"Part of it," Elias said, voice dipping again, not intending to seduce but letting the tone creep back in anyway. "…Part of who I am. Used to be. Some things… never leave you entirely."
Adrian's jaw tensed slightly, pupils darkening, his voice roughening. "…I'd like to see the chest tattoos someday," he said, letting the remark linger between them like a promise. "…And maybe… more about Marlowe. The rest of it."
Elias's lips twitched faintly, almost a smile, almost mischievous. "…Another night," he whispered, leaning back, finally letting the tension ease just a fraction. "…Over coffee again. Or… maybe something stronger."
Adrian chuckled, low, slow, and dangerous. "I'll hold you to that."
And they let the mugs sit between them for a while, the heavy tension lingering, both aware of it, letting it soften into something warm, something quiet, while the faint steam curled from their coffee, circling around them like smoke from the night before, binding them together without a word.
The café's warm light felt too intimate, almost conspiratorial, and Elias sensed it, felt it pressing against his skin like it wanted to hear the truths he usually kept buried. He stirred his coffee slowly, deliberately, letting the steam curl around his fingers, the heat rising to his face, and he realized he hadn't just come here to talk about his past.
Adrian watched him across the table, lean, strong, precise, the faint shadow of tattoos brushing against the cuffs of his suit. His eyes weren't just curious, they were hungry, tracking every subtle movement, every flicker of hesitation, every curve of Elias's jaw.
"Tell me about the dances," Adrian murmured, voice low, almost coaxing. "The ones you said were… different."
Elias's hand paused mid-sip. He felt a thrill coil low in his belly, unbidden, something old and dangerous waking. "…Different how?" he asked, voice soft but dipped in that silky, velvet tone that used to make rooms bend toward him.
Adrian leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, pupils dark, voice roughening. "…The way you moved. The way you made people look. The ones… that made you… lose yourself a little."
Elias swallowed slowly, letting the steam curl across his lips. "…Depends on the night," he murmured, letting his gaze flicker up at Adrian, soft, teasing, almost insolent in the way he held it. "…Some nights, I led everything. Some nights… I let them follow. Depends who was watching. Depends who I wanted to watch me."
Adrian's breath caught. He shifted subtly, the faint scent of cedar and leather brushing Elias's senses as he leaned closer, and he realized he was fully, utterly caught, fascinated and aroused in ways he hadn't expected. "…And… who did you want watching?"
Elias's lips twitched, curling into something dangerously close to a smirk, and he let his voice drop even lower, leaning in slightly, not meaning to seduce but letting it slip anyway. "…Some nights… everyone. Some nights… just one."
The words lingered, thick, impossible, and Adrian's pulse jumped. He leaned just a fraction closer, careful not to crowd, but enough to feel Elias's heat brush against him. "…One…?"
Elias's eyes glinted, playful, mischievous, shadowed by memory. "…Yeah. That one who made me… forget the rest. Made the lights too bright, the music too loud, and every move feels like it mattered."
Adrian's jaw flexed, slow, deliberate, eyes darkening. "And that… was me?"
Elias's chest rose slightly, breath catching in a whisper. "…Could have been." He leaned back just enough to sip his coffee, but the low slide of his voice, the warmth, the cadence—old habits, old power—hung in the air. "…Could have been you."
Adrian's lips pressed together, suppressing a laugh, a growl, a mix of fascination and desire that tightened his chest. He studied Elias—the curls, the tan skin, the faint shadow of strength in his forearms—and realized just how much the years had sharpened and softened him all at once. "…And you could still do it?"
Elias's hand drifted along the rim of the cup, knuckles brushing his own lips as he smiled faintly. "…Some things… never really leave you," he said, voice dipping, velvet and intimate. "…The control, the sway, the way people watch. It's… addictive."
Adrian's eyes darkened, pupils widening, and he leaned forward, voice low, deliberate. "…You think you could… show me?"
Elias laughed softly, a breathy, teasing sound, fingers tapping the edge of the table. "…Maybe. But some things… need the right night. The right person." His gaze lingered, slow, heavy, teasing. "…I could tell you stories, though. The costumes, the songs, the way men and women… looked at me."
M
Adrian exhaled, voice rough, low. "…Tell me. I want it all. Every detail."
Elias's grin deepened, letting that seductive edge creep in fully now. "…The first night I danced, my hair slicked back, sequined vest barely buttoned, the crowd roaring. The men leaning forward, the women laughing, throwing tips, eyes wide… every movement timed, calculated. And me… smiling, leaning, bending, spinning… making every eye follow. Some nights… they begged for more. Some nights… they didn't realize I was leading them all along."
Adrian's breath caught, hands flexing around his cup, knuckles whitening. "…And the rest?"
Elias's voice dropped another octave, closer, slower, letting the words brush against Adrian like a caress. "…The rest… is harder to describe. The nights with the spotlight hitting my chest, the sweat, the music pounding, hips swaying, arms reaching, bodies pressing. The control, the tease, the surrender. The whispers after, the hands… the tips… the way some men… some women… wanted more than just a dance."
Adrian leaned back slightly, trying to breathe, trying to think, trying not to let his mind run wild, but failing entirely. "…And Marlowe… that was you?"
Elias's lips curved, slow, teasing, letting the name roll out like it had wings. "…Marlowe was the part of me that could… seduce without touching. Make them want without giving it all away. Make them see… everything I could be. Some nights, it was exhilarating. Some nights… lonely."
Adrian's jaw tensed, eyes dark, voice low, intimate. "…And now?"
Elias's gaze softened, fingers brushing the mug, posture relaxing just enough to be vulnerable. "…Now… I'm careful. Grounded. But… some nights, talking to someone like you… I remember. And it feels… dangerous."
Adrian's chest tightened, voice rough, almost whispering. "…Dangerous in a good way?"
Elias's lips twitched, almost a full smile, letting the warmth and seduction slip back into his tone. "…Yes," he said softly, almost a confession, almost a dare. "…Dangerous in a very good way."
The coffee sat between them, forgotten, steaming into the air like the tension curling around them. They both knew it. They both felt it. And yet neither moved too close, not yet.
Because even with all the boldness, all the confessions, all the past and present wrapped in a single conversation, they were still circling, still testing, still letting the pull build.
And the night had only just begun.
.
.
.
The café had faded into a soft glow behind them, its windows hazed with warmth, but neither of them noticed when the moment shifted, when the air between them thickened enough that they both stood, almost at the same time, cups untouched.
Elias didn't know who suggested leaving first.
Maybe neither of them did.
Maybe it was the way Adrian kept leaning forward, his voice dropping lower, darker, more intimate with every question.
Maybe it was the way Elias couldn't breathe properly in that tiny booth anymore
the memories rising,
the seduction leaking into his voice,
the heat crawling up the back of his neck.
He needed air.
Or something cooler.
Or maybe something hotter, but he wouldn't dare admit that, not yet.
So they stepped out into the midnight street.
The city was quieter now, lamps buzzing faintly above them, the breeze cool against their skin. Adrian shoved his hands into his pockets, walking beside Elias but slightly angled toward him, as if he couldn't help it. Elias kept his gaze forward at first, but his eyes kept betraying him, sliding sideways to watch the movement of Adrian's jaw, the shape of his shoulders beneath the suit jacket, the faint peek of tattooed lines near his wrist when he moved.
The silence wasn't awkward but it was heavy, threaded with breath and what-ifs.
"So," Adrian finally said, voice deep, warm in the cold air. "Tell me another story."
Elias huffed a laugh. "About what?"
Adrian shot him a look dark, playful, sharp. "About Marlowe."
Elias's steps faltered for half a second.
Not enough to be obvious.
But enough for Adrian to smirk.
"You're enjoying this," Elias murmured.
"Extremely," Adrian said without shame. His breath fogged into the night. "You talk about it like you're telling me half the story. And half isn't enough."
Elias exhaled slowly, letting his shoulders loosen. "It's… not exactly something I talk about with anyone."
"Except you are talking about it," Adrian said, voice dropping lower, more coaxing. "With me."
Elias swallowed. "…You make it easy."
Adrian stopped walking for a moment, watching Elias with a steady, unreadable expression that made Elias's stomach tighten. "Then keep going."
The streetlamps hummed above them, casting shadows over Elias's features.. skin, soft curls, the hazel eyes that seemed to pull light rather than reflect it. He shifted his weight, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, and he let his voice drop into the space between them.
"Okay," he said quietly. "There was this one dance… one only the regulars ever saw. It wasn't on the menu."
Adrian's brows lifted. "The menu?"
Elias smirked softly. "The roster. Posters. Cards on the tables. 'Marlowe Friday Nights.' Or 'Marlowe Special Sets.''"
"And the special sets," Adrian murmured, stepping closer without fully realizing it, "were… what? Dirtier?"
A slow, deliberate breath left Elias's lungs.
He let his fingers curl slightly at his side as he spoke.
"You could say in some way, yes.. Slower," he whispered. "Closer. Less.. clothing… flashy. More control. I'd step down into the crowd. Lean in. Let people feel the heat. Make them want more without giving anything away."
Adrian's breathing tightened.
"Show me," he murmured, not as a command, not playful, just raw curiosity.
Elias's pulse kicked.
"Not here," he said softly. "Not tonight."
Adrian tilted his head. "…I'll wait."
Elias coughed a laugh, flustered despite himself. "You're… blunt."
"You're the one describing the way you seduced entire rooms," Adrian shot back, voice dipping. "And you think I won't be curious?"
Elias looked away, breath shaking just slightly.
"That was another life."
"Is it?"
Elias's steps slowed. "…Sometimes I think so. Sometimes I feel it still in me."
"And tonight?" Adrian asked, voice low, dangerous-soft now. "Which one is it tonight?"
Elias didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The air said enough.
They kept walking, their shoulders brushing now and then accidental, intentional, neither of them addressing it.
"Did you… dance on poles?" Adrian asked suddenly, tone half-teasing, half-hungry.
Elias snorted. "Yes. But my strengths were.. lap dances.. and floorwork. Sway. Rhythm. Hands. Eye contact."
Adrian exhaled, long and slow. "I can't believe you hid all this."
"You never asked," Elias murmured.
Adrian gave him a side-glance so sharp it almost hurt. "I didn't remember you like that."
"And I didn't remember you either," Elias said.
Then he hesitated, voice dropping. "But you look nothing like back then."
Adrian gave a small, humorless laugh. "Yeah. I was always in my books."
"You were cute," Elias said softly before he could stop himself.
Adrian froze mid-step. "What?"
Elias blinked. "I said— I mean— back then—"
Adrian stepped closer, breath warm, eyes dark. "Say it again."
Elias swallowed. "…You were cute."
"And now?" Adrian asked, voice almost a growl.
Elias's eyes skated down the line of his chest to where the faint outline of tattoos peeked beneath his shirt. "…Now you're… not cute."
"Oh?" Adrian lifted a brow. "What am I then?"
Elias's cheeks warmed. His voice dropped, softer than the wind.
"…Sexy."
Adrian's breath hitched.
His hand lifted for a second, just a second like he wanted to touch Elias's jaw, but he caught himself, lowering it again.
"And you," he murmured, "are not the nerd I remember."
"No?" Elias whispered.
Adrian shook his head slowly.
"You walk like you know what you can do to people."
A beat.
"And the way you talk…"
Another beat.
"…you're either flirting with me or you've forgotten how seductive your voice is."
Elias's stomach tightened, heat shooting through him.
"I'm… not trying to flirt," he lied softly.
"That's the problem," Adrian whispered. "…You don't have to try."
They stood beneath a streetlamp, the glow casting gold into Elias's curls, shadowing Adrian's jaw, and something in the silence shifted.. dangerous, soft, charged, alive.
Elias inhaled, steadying the knot in his stomach before spilling more without thinking twice. "And.. There were… Themes. 'Nights,' we called them." He glanced at Adrian, gauging his reaction. "Some nights were soft—silk shirts, slow music. Some were… less soft."
"Less soft how?"
Elias's gaze flickered up at him, mischief curling around the edges of something honest. "Leather. Low lights. Bass you could feel in your bones."
Adrian swallowed. Hard.
"And you danced to that?"
Elias laughed. "I owned that. It was one of my best sets."
Adrian's eyes glinted with interest.
The streetlight behind Elias washed him in gold, highlighting the shape of his jaw, the curve of his lips. He lifted a hand, tracing the air like he was remembering the old choreography.
"It wasn't just dancing," Elias admitted softly. "It was… control. Knowing exactly how to move, when to slow down, when to snap… how to make someone feel something without ever touching them."
Adrian forced a breath. "Jesus, Elias…"
Elias tilted his head, looking up at him with bright eyes. "Too much?"
"No." Adrian's voice dropped into something almost dangerous. "Not even close."
They started walking again slowly. Their hands brushed as they walked, an accident, but not entirely. Elias stiffened, but didn't pull away. Adrian didn't either; his fingers instinctively curled for a second, as if wanting to catch Elias's hand, then quickly released.
They walked in silence for a moment, the tension humming between them like power lines.
Then Adrian said, softer, "What about the nights that weren't… themed?"
Elias's voice softened too, deeper, warm like smoke.
"Those were the raw nights. No props. No costumes. Just me. The crowd. A single spotlight." He paused, lips parting slightly at the memory. "Those nights were… exposing. Almost… intimate. Harder than anything else. Harder than stripping, even."
Adrian's brows knit. "Why?"
"Because I wasn't performing," Elias murmured. "…I was being seen."
That took Adrian's breath in a different way.
He slowed, turning slightly toward Elias as they crossed a quieter street, streetlights flickering above.
"…And now?" Adrian asked quietly. "Do you still miss it?"
"No," Elias said, way too fast. Too automatic before he corrected himself. Voice gentler, honest.
"I miss… the confidence it gave me. The freedom. The way I felt in my body. Like it was… mine."
Adrian's steps stopped completely.
Elias turned, confused until he saw Adrian's expression.
Intensity.
Concern.
Desire.
Something else too, something Elias couldn't name yet.
"You still have all of that," Adrian said, voice low, certain, cutting through the night air like steel. "You don't lose something like that. You… radiate it."
Elias felt something hot and startling bloom beneath his ribs. "You're just saying that."
"No," Adrian said firmly. "I'm not."
Their breaths mingled.
Their shadows crossed.
Elias stepped back a fraction, grounding himself. "You shouldn't look at me like that."
"Why not?"
"Because I'll look back."
And he did.
He held Adrian's gaze directly, letting the electricity thicken, letting the tension stretch between them until neither moved, both waiting for something neither was willing to reach for yet.
Adrian's voice broke the silence first, lower than before:
"…You said men wanted more from you. Back then."
"Yes. Some did."
"And now?" Adrian asked. "If someone… wanted more from you now?"
Elias's laugh was soft, breathy. "Depends who's asking."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "Elias."
"Hmm?"
"…I'm asking."
The world stilled.
Elias inhaled, chest rising, breath shaking but he didn't look away.
Didn't run.
Didn't flirt to cover the truth.
Instead he whispered back softly like a reflex at this point, "Another night."
Adrian's eyes darkened. "You keep saying that."
"And I mean it," Elias said, stepping just close enough for Adrian to feel the warmth of him. "Another night, Adrian. When I'm not… this honest. Or this exposed."
Adrian swallowed, eyes flicking to Elias's mouth for half a second, half a second too long.
The heat from Adrian's body pressed into him, and he realized just how much he had craved this closeness since the café. He let his gaze flicker to Adrian's lips, then back to his eyes, testing, teasing.
"Adrian," Elias said, softer now, letting the name fall like a caress, "maybe we could go back to your place?" His words were casual, but the tone—the subtle dip, the lingering softness, made Adrian lean in just slightly, as if drawn by gravity. "Just… some drinks. Jun has a babysitter until morning, anyway."
Adrian's jaw tightened fractionally, the low rumble of his laugh vibrating in the cool night air. "You're bold," he murmured. "Dangerously bold."
Elias's lips twitched, almost shyly, almost with mischief. "Maybe," he admitted, voice dipping just enough to hint at something older, something Marlowe that had lingered beneath the surface all these years. "But I like honesty."
Adrian took a small step closer, letting his arm brush Elias's as he spoke, controlled, deliberate. "Honesty's good," he said softly, "but sometimes, it comes with consequences."
Elias swallowed, heart thudding, body leaning just slightly toward Adrian, breath warm in the night air. "Maybe I'm okay with consequences," he whispered, almost daring, almost a tease, almost a confession. His eyes lingered on Adrian's face, tracing the sharp jaw, the strong neck, the dark, unreadable depths of those eyes. "Maybe I've been waiting for them."
Adrian's chest tightened, pupils darkening. He didn't move to close the distance, not yet but the pull was undeniable, tangible, a tension that hummed in the space between them. "You make it very hard to think clearly," he said low, a growl barely suppressed at the back of his throat.
Elias let his hand brush a little too close to Adrian's, fingertips grazing the fabric of his sleeve, not pulling away. "Maybe I want that," he murmured, letting the words hang. "Maybe I want you to think about it."
Adrian's breath caught just slightly. "You're tempting me," he admitted, voice dropping an octave. "And dangerously close to getting me to act on it."
Elias let a slow, deliberate smile spread across his lips. "Then maybe you should," he said softly, letting his eyes flick to Adrian's mouth, then back to his gaze, a heartbeat too long in the pause, testing. "If you dare."
The air between them thickened, almost solid, every step, every glance, every slight tilt of the head, every shift of weight a wordless conversation, a silent negotiation. Elias's pulse raced in his chest, fingers itching to brush just a little closer, to see if Adrian would let him, to see if the spark he remembered so well still burned.
Adrian stepped slightly closer, and for a brief, suspended heartbeat, the world narrowed until it was just them, the warmth of his body, the scent of cedar and something darker, the subtle pull of years and memory and desire tangled together.
Elias exhaled softly, a breath that trembled just slightly, and leaned in, daring, testing, letting their faces draw near enough that lips might brush if the moment stretched. "You're.. so masculine," he murmured, voice low, velvet and warm. "And I like it."
Adrian's dark eyes flickered down at him, gaze sharp and assessing, reading, feeling the weight of the words and the intention behind them. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now," he said quietly, letting the sound vibrate through the space between them.
Elias's lips curved in a faint, dangerous smile. "Maybe I do," he whispered, letting the words hang, letting the air crackle with the unspoken, letting the pull between them coil tighter. "Or maybe… I want to find out."
And in that moment, as the streets stretched empty around them, as the convention hall buzzed far behind them, as the world seemed to pause for just the two of them…
They started walking again trying to calm down, they walked closer now, kept brushing their arms together lightly, acting like they didn't almost kiss, but the dangerous, teasing gravity between them stretching taut, electric, was impossible to ignore now.