A Little Cajun Voodoo…
Wonders would never cease. Gator sat across the table from Dario. He’d only asked the man out half a dozen times now. Although, this wasn’t an actual, official date. Not in his book. Real dates involved dressing nice, picking someone up, taking them out to a movie or dancing or something or other.
But he’d take this.
Sitting across the table from the man he’d been lusting after for months now, preparing to eat a meal together and getting to know one another a little more was more than he’d expected to get that night. He perused the menu, sneaking glimpses of Dario over the top.
Dario met his stare a time or two before looking away, smiling. That smile—oh boy, did it do things to him.
“How are you fellas tonight?” their waiter asked.
“Great,” Gator announced. “Got a question for you, though.”
The waiter turned to face him.
“I see you’ve got étouffée on the menu. I’m from Louisiana, and I know good étouffée —how in the hell do y’all have decent crawfish up here in the mountains? Please tell me they’re not putting something else in there.”
“Well, our chef trained in New Orleans for a few years, so I’d say he knows a thing or two about étouffée himself. When that pilot of yours went to Mississippi a few months back, he picked up some fresh crawfish on dry ice and brought it back with him. Granted, the crawfish was frozen, but it was fresh from Mississippi’s Gulf Coast when it arrived. Like you said, we’re in the mountains, so it’s the best we can do out here.”
Gator smacked his menu down on the table. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll give it a try.”
“How about a drink to go with that?”
“Beer. Whatever you have on tap that’s not light.” Gator turned to Dario. “You know what you’re having?”
Dario offered the menu up to the waiter. “I think I’ll go with the theme and try the jambalaya. A beer for me, too.”
“Sounds good. I’ll get that in and have your drinks out to you shortly.”
Gator smiled at the man before turning to Dario. “Hopefully they won’t disappoint tonight.”
“Oh, man—if they could get the mighty Cajun’s seal of approval, they’d earn some stars.” Dario chuckled. “What is with the name Gator, anyway? That’s not your real name, is it?”
“A nickname,” Gator said, leaning back in his chair. “I snuck onto my father’s boat when I was five, just before he was going gator hunting with one of my older brothers. He said I was too young, but I wanted to go. I hid under a tarp, but started getting wiggly after a while. Daddy thought I was a young gator who’d snuck onboard and almost shot me. Thankfully, my older brother lifted the tarp first. Daddy called me his little gator from that point forward… later, it just became Gator, and my brothers and mama picked it up, too. After a while, everyone was saying it.”
“I bet you were a handful growing up.”
“Still am,” Gator said with a grin.
Dario’s face reddened some, and Gator decided he liked it. “So, how about you? Were you a little heathen growing up, too?”
“You Catholic?” Dario asked Gator. A lot of folks in Louisiana were, he knew. The French and Spanish had controlled the city and remnants of their faith had remained.
“Non-practicing,” Gator said.
“Well, my mother—my Puerto Rican mother—was a strict Catholic, raising five boys on her own after my military father died. We weren’t allowed to be heathens. Upon pain of death. But then, she got sick and passed. We all got sent to foster care—and there, we either followed the rules or got kicked out, so I tried to follow the rules the best I could.”
Gator reached out and covered one of Dario’s hands. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that was.”
Dario shrugged, staring at Gator’s hand on his. He lifted his gaze. “Thanks. I could lie and say it toughened me up, but that wasn’t the case. It taught me how to hide in the shadows.”
“Hiding through life isn’t a way to live.”
“It’s a survival mechanism. One I’m trying to learn how to stop.”
“I’m glad you’re tryin’,” Gator murmured. “Four brothers, hmm? I had three.”
Dario’s smile faded some. “Yeah, well, I haven’t seen mine in a long, long time.”
“Did you try lookin’ for them?”
Dario nodded. “Yeah. And I found them. They didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
“Why…?”
Dario rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Well, I don’t want to assume it was because you’re gay. I don’t necessarily know that you’re gay, and I would never presume to know.”
“I am.”
Gator smiled slightly. “I am, too.”
“Really?” Dario asked before rolling his eyes again. “All the date requests gave me no idea.”
Gator grinned, but it quickly faded. “I’m sorry that happened to you—your brothers should’ve had your back.”
“Hard to have someone’s back you hadn’t seen in nearly a decade.” Dario sighed. “And I doubt it was for religious reasons, as none of them are all that strict when it comes to premarital sex or the use of birth control, as I met their girlfriends and their batch of kids. I think they just didn’t want folks to think the gay had spread to them, too.” Dario paused as their drinks arrived.
The waiter placed a small plate on the table, too. “I told our chef that you were from Louisiana and he needed to make sure those dishes were amazing. He sent out some fried green tomatoes for you to sample while you wait.”
Gator moaned as he looked at the plate. “Thank you—and him. I’ve been so homesick lately. Maybe tonight will soothe me a little.” He unwrapped his fork and moved to dig in—and saw Dario watching him. “You’re gonna try these, too, chere. So get out that fork.”
He cut into one of the tomatoes. They were lightly fried and had a light sauce drizzled on them. Gator popped one into his mouth and moaned as the taste hit his tongue. “Merde. If our food is as good as these tomatoes, I’ll be a happy, happy man.” He paused, waiting for Dario to dig in.
“I’ve never had these before.”
“Not as good as my mama’s, but these will definitely do,” Gator said, leaning back. He watched Dario cut off a small piece. The man lifted his fork to his small, pink mouth and drew the tomato off the tines. Gator swallowed, never imagining an act so basic could be so erotic.
He licked his dry lips and tried to ignore the slight thickening of his cock.
“Not bad,” Dario said after he was done chewing.
Gator grinned. “Well, have some more.” He leaned forward and took another bite. They had the small plate gone within seconds.
“How was it?” the waiter asked as he stopped by to pick up the plate.
“Wonderful,” Gator said, lifting a thumb. “You tell your chef that I approve. Hopefully dinner will be as good.”
“I bet it will be,” the waiter said before leaving them alone.
“You really miss home, hmm?” Dario asked.
“I haven’t been back for a long while. My mama’s gonna kill me when I finally do go.”
“That long, huh?”
“Past that long,” Gator said.
“They know about you?”
“That I like boys? Yep.”
“And they accepted it?”
“Not at first. My father took it really hard. Brothers were almost as bad. But then my eldest brother said that there would be plenty more pussy around for them if I wasn’t there to hog it up, and my other brothers seemed to follow his lead. Mama? She only worried I’d get my ass kicked. Or worse.” Gator took a swig from his beer. “Dad took the longest to come round, but after I enlisted, I think he realized there was a chance I might come back home in a box. We had a good long talk after boot camp. He’s working on acceptance.”
“So you must’ve come out early.”
“Sixteen,” Gator said.
“Wow. If things had turned out differently, that would’ve been hard on you at that age.”
“I had a backup plan,” Gator said.
“And that was?”
“My gay uncle who lives in the Quarter. I knew he’d let me land on his couch plus I’d have had the time of my life.”
“Ahh.”
“Which is part of the reason my father struggled. He and his brother didn’t have the best relationship. After I came out, though, they sorta patched things up,” Gator eyed Dario. “It’s not too late, you know. Your brothers could come round. When was the last time you talked to them?”
“It’s been about two years now.”
“I can’t even imagine how hard that is. I’m so sorry.” Gator reached across the table and caressed the back of Dario’s hand again. “I feel bad knowing how rough you’ve had it.”
Dario smiled slightly. “Don’t feel bad. It led me here. Maybe I wouldn’t have met you had it all not gone down the way it did. And if your parents had kicked you out—you might still be in New Orleans, wreaking all kinds of havoc.”
Gator smiled, but shook his head. “You’re here because you’re an elemental. You have some role in this grand plan.”
“We don’t know if I was born with the gift. Or if some greater power out in the universe granted it to me. Maybe I was just in the right place at the right time to get it. Who knows?”
Gator smiled. “A good way to look at it, I suppose.” He frowned suddenly. Dario’s hand was on fire. “You’re hot to the touch.” He lifted his stare to Dario. “Like super hot.”
Dario drew his hand away and put it under the table. “Sorry.”
Gator watched a look of unease cross Dario’s face. “It wasn’t burning me or anything. You’re just really warm. That might come in handy on a cold winter’s night.”
Dario’s face reddened to a lovely shade. Gator grinned, drawing a smile from Dario.
The food arrived. Gator inhaled, the scent of everything bringing on another moan. “People are gonna think I’m over here masturbating.”
The waiter laughed. “You won’t be the first to have a food-gasm in here, trust me. Enjoy,” he added as he walked off.
Gator looked over his plate and then at the big bowl before Dario. “They know portion sizes, too.” He grabbed his fork and took a little étouffée and rice before popping it into his mouth. He closed his eyes, completely reminded of home. Savoring his bite, he groaned. “So good.”
Dario chuckled. “Glad to see you’re enjoying yourself.”
“You’re here. Of course I am.”
Dario’s face pinkened again before he took a bite of jambalaya. He chewed a moment before a look of delight crossed his handsome face. “This is amazing.”
“Try this,” Gator said, scooping up some of his meal and offering his fork across the table.
Dario eyed it and then him for a moment before leaning forward. He opened his mouth and ate from Gator’s fork. A pleasant twisting happened in his gut as he watched Dario tasting his food.
“That’s good, too,” Dario said, eyeing Gator’s plate. “Damn, now I wish I’d ordered that instead. Not that this isn’t good. Try a bite.”
Gator leaned over, scooped up some of jambalaya onto his fork and tasted it. He pointed at Dario’s bowl with his fork. “This man knows how to cook.” He rose from his seat and moved to the one immediately beside Dario. He then slid his plate and drink over before eyeing Dario. “We’re sharing. What’s mine is yours.”
Dario grinned at him. “And what’s mine is yours, too.”
He captured Dario’s stare, liking the sound of that.
Of course, moving was an excuse to get closer to Dario. He’d do just about anything to break through that tough wall the man had erected. Little by little, he’d whittled it away. He just needed to keep whittling.
Gator leaned closer to Dario to steal another forkful, placing his shoulder along the man’s. Dario turned his head to look at him.
They were within kissing range.
Gator finished his bite before licking his lips, ready to dive in for a test run.
Dario stiffened slightly and looked away.
Gator backed away a little. “Who hurt you?”
Dario turned to face him, a questioning look on his face.
“I sense you want to get to know me, but something’s keeping you just out of reach. Who hurt you?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“No, it does. I need to know whose ass I’m kicking.”
Dario shook his head. “They’re dead now. No asses left to kick.”
“They? As in more than one?”
“The night I learned of my powers…” Dario shivered beside him. He wasn’t sure how much to share—but he wanted Gator to know exactly why he’d refused all those offers before. “I was attacked by two men. They tried to… rape me. I ended up accidentally setting them on fire.”
“Accidentally? Sounds like karma got ahold of those bastards. No accident needed.”
Dario smiled, but it didn’t go all the way up to his eyes. “I’ve never known fear like I did in that moment. Or felt that powerless.”
“I’m sorry if I came on too strong.”
“You didn’t. It only happened a few months ago, so I’m…”
“Skittish.”
Dario nodded.
“I get it,” Gator said. “So we slow things down until you know I won’t hurt you.”
“I already sense that you won’t hurt me, not like they tried to. If you weren’t interested in me, you would’ve given up a long time ago.”
“Indeed.” Gator frowned slightly. “Thank you.”
Dario turned to meet his stare. “For what?”
“Telling me that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you to share.”
A soft smile spread over Dario’s lips. “It wasn’t. But I… I think I can trust you.”
“I want to earn that trust.” Gator took Dario’s hand in his, but the man stiffened at the touch. “I just want to hold your hand.”
“I’m afraid,” Dario murmured.
“You said you knew I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“I worry…” Dario paused. “I worry that I’ll hurt you.”
“How could you hurt me?”
“That accident… I don’t know how I did it. I was terrified… and it just… happened. What if I’m overwhelmed with a different emotion?”
He’s protecting me.
“I don’t have much control over my power,” Dario added. “I’m really struggling to lear—”
Gator leaned in and pressed his lips to Dario’s, cutting him off. At first, Dario was stiff beside him. Slowly, the man began to melt against him. The kiss deepened, with Dario’s fingers clenching his shirt. When he pulled away, he drew in a deep breath to fill his lungs.
“Made it through one kiss unsinged, so I’d say that’s a good sign.”
Dario smiled up at him.
“When you’re ready for second base, I’ll break out my flame retardant clothing. Might even get a fire extinguisher ready.”
“You’re a mess, Gator.”
“But I keep life interesting.” He grabbed his fork and took a bite of his étouffée. “Damn that’s good.”
The company was even better.