This excerpt gives us a peek at Jawk's motives for spying on Luc, another little reveal of the truth. It's also a glimpse of Luc enjoying himself. He's taking Jawk to the starport for a flight on his new ship, the Crossfire, but first, they stop for dinner at the Chocolate Works. This location was featured in For Women Only, and it's a male strip club. Luc has a private box there, so no one can tell it's him.
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"So, you speak Felis." Wilting on the inside, Jawk thought back to what he might have said around the man. Had he given away any hint of his true purpose for allowing Saint-Cyr to seduce him?
"Does that bother you?"
"I" -- Jawk swallowed. *Luc is seductive and wily,* his former master had told him. *Do not trust him. And never let him see you sweat.* Jawk rubbed at his neck. "They didn't tell me you spoke Felis."
"So," he leaned both elbows on the table, hands folded in front of his chin. "Someone told you about me?"
Jawk felt himself blush, and brought his ears down at the sides. "A couple of the guys at Batchelors saw me get into your car the other night." Purposely, he raised his head and met Saint-Cyr's gaze, letting him see his discomfort. "Next day, they warned me you take advantage of boys like me."
One eyebrow twitched upward. "Oh, they did, did they? What did you say?"
He released one claw. "That I'm no boy."
Saint-Cyr smiled then. "Did they cause you any trouble?"
"No." Jawk played with the flatware next to his plate, lining it up so the ends of the utensils were in a straight line. "I just--" He chewed his lower lip.
"What?" Saint-Cyr steepled his fingers.
"I'm a private person. I don't like others knowing about me. Besides, if my mother had any idea..."
Saint-Cyr threw back his head and laughed, one hand against his chest. He stood and went to retrieve a bottle of wine from a low rack across the room. "You needn't worry about being seen here. It's completely private. And I never broadcast information about my sex partners." He uncapped the wine and poured some into Jawk's glass. "Relax."
He tightened and released his shoulders, took a few deep breaths. He'd apparently appeased the man sufficiently to avoid suspicion, but he must never let his guard down again. "I never expected to come here for dinner."
The man chuckled. "I see." Saint-Cyr set down the wine, studying him for a moment. "I have an idea." Making motions to stay seated, he came around behind him. "Relax. I'll massage your shoulders."
Jawk stiffened, head turned to one side, but the heat of the man's large hands against his shoulders won a small moan of pleasure. Jawk closed his eyes. The combination of pressure, deep massage, and a kneading motion along his neck and the top of his shoulders melted his resistance. "You're good at this."
When Saint-Cyr leaned down close to one of Jawk's ears, the warmth of the man's breath made it twitch. "I'm good at a lot of things."
He smiled. "I bet."
Saint-Cyr continued the firm pressure and deep massage until their food was brought in. "Excellent! I'm starved. Let's eat."
The service was surpassed only by the excellence of the food. The dinner show started not long after, and Jawk could not help but enjoy it. A set of three Kin males dressed in white leather came out accompanied by the pounding of kooms, the biggest, deepest Kin drums. Sacred, on their world. But there was nothing sacred about their performance. Each chained to the other, the three broke apart the chains with their bare hands and immediately spread out through the female audience.
Although the table abutted the glass, Jawk leaned closer to better see. The women were gnawing at the chains, breaking them off with their teeth. Not even Kin warriors had teeth that strong. "What are those chains made of?" He turned toward Saint-Cyr, one ear out in curiosity.
"Long strings of chocolate."
Raising both ears and brows, Jawk shook his head and laughed. "Humans."
