The first course shows up, a small plate with two shrimp drowning in a buttery garlic sauce. I glance over at Blaze’s dish, which is a very mini version of ratatouille in confit biyaldi style.
Without asking, Pandora uses her fork to cut a small portion of Blaze’s dish for herself. Blaze takes the fork from her hand, and I relax.
This is familiar. He was putting up a good show earlier, but itdoesbother him to have somebody sharing his dish.
Then he spears the portion Pandora had cut and holds it up to her mouth.
“You really should ask first,” Blaze says, his lips curled into a reluctant smile.
Pandora smiles back. “When I already know the answer?” She eats directly off the fork, with absolutely no qualms about Blaze feeding her.
My face gets hot, a confusing mixture of jealousy and desire coursing through me. “You should never assume you know any answer when it comes to Blaze,” I tell her, my voice coming out rough.
Pandora gives me a sly look. She pops one of her shrimp into her mouth. I watch the butter glaze her lips, and her tongue darts out to lick it away.
I swallow hard, trying not to think of other things she’s done with her tongue.
“Why wouldn’t I be interested in Kappa Alpha? I went to the party to meet new people, and I met you two.” She smiles at me. “I left an impression on you that day, didn’t I?”
That’s one way of looking at it.
“And you continue to make an impression,” I say.
The server returns with our next course, this time a small soup.
I wonder what it’s like to be a server at a place like this, where it’s required to be nearly invisible yet perfectly present when needed.
I nod in thanks, acknowledging him.
This time Pandora and Blaze got the same dish, so she leans closer to me with her spoon. Her eyes are alight with amusement when she says, “May I, Asch?”
“How polite of you,” I remark. I start to tell her that she can help herself, but then I think of how Blaze had fed her. I use my own spoon to scoop some up, then hold it out to her, hoping that I don’t make an idiot out of myself by spilling it all over her or the table.
She smiles even wider before taking the spoon into her mouth. I don’t know why it’s affecting me so strongly to see her simply take food from me, but my cock twitches in my slacks, and I have to swallow hard again.
“Do you want to try some of this?” Pandora asks, pointing to her soup.
“Are you going to feed it to me?” I ask, trying for cheeky but not quite managing.
Pandora glances at Blaze. “He’ll do it.”
I blink, and my cheeks heat up again. “He’ll do what?”
“Feed you,” Pandora says. She nudges Blaze’s shoulder. “Right?”
Blaze mutters something under his breath, but then he meets my eyes. “You want some of my soup?”
My heart is thudding in my chest at the idea of him feeding me, and it almost rivals the strange feeling I have from having fed Pandora. “Yeah,” I say hoarsely. I want to crack some kind of joke to break this strange tension, but I can’t think of anything to say.
Blaze scoops up some soup—and eats it himself. He does that onemore time before he moves the small bowl over to me. “Here. You can have the rest.”
I don’t know why I’m so disappointed, but it floods my emotions, leaving me feeling even more off balance.
“Oh, come on,” Pandora pouts.
Blaze shakes his head. “It would have been awkward. And the soup would spill all over the nice white tablecloth.”
I take the bowl, but the soup inside is tasteless. I finish it off anyway.
