La Maison 2: Differences (Complete: BDSM mxm)

Prologue: Part 2 - Ellis and Frankie

A/N: Okay, so I failed in my mission for only one POV per chapter already. Ooops. But it's because I didn't want to split the prologue into three. Will start trying again next chapter, promise.

As usual would love your thoughts, comment away.

Ellis

I don't know what I'm getting myself into. There's something too, too dangerous about that man. I felt it the first night I met him, when he just appeared at my dressing room door, looking teeth-achingly hot in an obviously expensive bespoke suit, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned just far enough for me to see the beginnings of an impressive pair of pecs, the pants just tight enough to see the thickness of his thighs and...

And then, he's everywhere. He's definitely stalking me. Not in a creepy way, if it's possible to stalk someone in a non-creepy way. But he's always there, when I go to the park, when I go to the store, walking down the street. He talks to me, politely, in that sexy French accent of his, asking me about school, about my job in a music store, though I don't tell him where it is: him turning up there would be too much. Eli, ever-sensible Eli, suggests I should get a restraining order. He says the guy must be unhinged and it could end badly. I don't feel that from him though; somehow I feel safe every time I encounter him, not that my own sense of protection is strong.

Mateo, who is never sensible, says I should take him back to dorms and fuck him, find out if he's worth the hassle. I'm more tempted to follow his advice; the guy is beautiful – pure masculinity in form, piercing dark eyes with a shaven head and a neat close-cropped beard that I want to rub my cheek against - but I manage to rein it in. Until that day in the coffee shop. When I touch his arm I literally feel the electricity, have to pull back to stop myself stroking up his strong bicep. And that's nothing on what I feel when he kisses me. After he's gone I sniff the card he left me with, and it smells like him; earthy and woody and clean. I want to know what cologne he uses so I can buy some and spray my bed with it, sleep in his fragrance.

After going back and forth with myself, and with my friends, for four long, sleepless days, I make my decision. I have to call him. I have to find out whether I'm kidding myself that there could be something there, something deeper than the emotionless contacts I've had over the last three years. I agree that he can take me to dinner, and am surprised by his reaction. He seems excited, which is not an emotion he looks like having often with his severe and protective aura. But maybe it means I'm not on my own with this strange connection I'm feeling.

* * * * *

"We'll have the filet mignon, medium rare..." Huh? Is he ordering for me? This place is fancy, and maybe I don't fit in, though I'm wearing my smartest pants and a nice shirt. It might not be Armani or D&G, which I'm sure his suit is, but I don't look completely out of place. I'm sure I look like someone who's capable of ordering their own dinner.

"Actually, no, François. I can order for myself. May I have the mushroom risotto please, ma'am?" The waitress smiles warmly at me, though I see a scowl cross François' handsome face.

"Do you do that a lot? Order for your dates?" I ask when the wine guy had been and gone, leaving a fancy but nice-tasting wine behind. I sip delicately at the flavorful red after speaking, letting it wash over my tongue; I'm not used to nice wine, and it tastes delicious. I glance up, and François is looking at me intently, almost seeming lost in his thoughts, watching my neck as I swallow the mouthful.

"Uh, well yes, I do. I'm a Dominant, you see," he sputters out when he sees me looking, but then he straightens up, as if pulling himself together, waiting for my response, looking a cross between arrogant and anxious, which is a strange combination.