MARK HAD only seen Steffen once during the week—a stay-over on Wednesday night had given him respite from the piccolos—and he was sulking a little since Steffen had told him he would be busy both Friday and Saturday, leaving Mark a weekend to kill in Basel without the company of his favorite Basler. The little pile of cinnamon chewy biscuits someone had left on his desk had been one bright light in the otherwise bleak end to his working week. Again, no one had seen who’d left them, and while he was curious, the Lackerli biscuits were far too tasty not to eat.
Thankfully Carl had come to his rescue. This being a rare weekend when he wasn’t heading back to the UK, he’d offered to meet Mark for a few drinks at Noohn in the hope of getting to see a bit more of the livelier side of the city away from their desks.
Mark arrived at Noohn, a swanky lounge-cum-restaurant, and spotted Carl, who had bagged a table and two stools in the busy bar area, the evening being too wet and cold for the popular roof terrace to be open. The bar was dimly lit despite the reflections from the tabletop lamps and oversized ceiling lights in the floor-to-ceiling windows. The other customers were in twos or small groups, and Carl had done well to get a table. Even better, he had a drink waiting for Mark.
“Hope lager is okay,” Carl said in greeting. “I don’t know much about wine beyond red, white, or fizzy, and given the prices I’d hate to have spent a fortune on a shite drink.”
“I’m more than happy with lager. Thanks for coming out, I think I might have gone around the twist if I didn’t escape for the evening.”
“Tell me about it. My place here is smaller than my bedroom at home. I can’t bear to be cooped up.”
Mark took several long gulps of his beer. It was too easy to drink, and he was becoming fond of many of the local brews. “My flat at home isn’t huge, but when I go back it’ll feel like a castle in comparison.”
“I can believe it. But I could cope more with the space if it weren’t for the noise. Thank fuck it’s Fasnacht in a couple of weeks. Then the bloody piccolos will stop.”
A high-pitched laugh, somewhere between absolute hilarity and braying donkey, made Mark glance in its direction. To the left of the bar, as far from the door as possible, was a group of friends, the annoying laugh belonging to a tiny brunette whose red lipstick matched her dress and heels, but it was the man standing next to her who caught his attention. Steffen.
He looked as attractive as ever, and the young man he was talking to was equally easy on the eye. Steffen was leaning in to whisper something to the man, causing an exchange of smiles and laughs. The young man put down his drink and headed in the direction of the toilets, and Mark might have been imagining it, but Steffen’s gaze followed him. A twinge of jealously had Mark gulping down the rest of his beer. He needed to get over this. Steffen wasn’t doing anything wrong, and with his rational brain he could see that Steffen’s look in the direction of the young man was more fond then sexual. Still, he didn’t have to like the idea that Steffen might sleep with other people. He just didn’t have the right to bitch about it since they were, as he reminded himself for the umpteenth time, only casual.
“You all right?” Carl nudged him.
“Yeah. Thirsty, that’s all.”
Carl scoffed and finished his own drink. “If you’re going to be that thirsty, you can go to the bar.”
“Isn’t it waitress service?” he asked, more in hope than expectation.
“Not seen any in this bit. You want another drink you’re going to have to fetch it. Mine’s a large one, thanks very much.”
Mark collected the empty glasses and took them with him to the bar, deliberately picking a section farthest from Steffen and his friends. Despite there being a number of bar staff working, it took Mark several minutes to catch someone’s eye.
“This is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you had plans to come here.”
He hadn’t noticed Steffen sidle up to him. “Oh, Steffen, I didn’t see you there. It wasn’t planned. Me and Carl fancied a drink, and so here we are. I spotted you, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Steffen brushed his hand over Mark’s hip. “You would not be interrupting.”
Mark glanced back to where Steffen’s friends were. “Are you sure? I thought you might already be busy.”
“No, we are all that are left at the end of a birthday celebration. One of my aunts has a passion for sushi, and while she moans that nowhere can beat Japan, she will settle for this restaurant.”
“High praise indeed.”
“You do not know Aunt Serena. She has very exacting tastes.”
The braying brunette appeared and draped herself over Steffen. “Who’s this lovely specimen? And why are you hiding him from your favorite cousin?” Mark thought he heard an edge of New York in her accent.
“This is Mark.”
“The Mark?”
Mark stood a little straighter at that. Steffen had been talking about him to his family, or at least this cousin.
“Oh, Amelia, you are tiresome.” Steffen turned back to Mark. “Please excuse her, and come and join us.”
“I’m not sure my German would be able to cope,” Mark admitted.
Amelia slapped his arm playfully. “Don’t worry about that. We’ve a real collection of nationalities—English is the default language.”
“She’s right,” said Steffen. “We have a Norwegian, an American, and a New Zealander with us. They might have married into the family, but their German is almost as bad as yours.”
“All right, then,” Mark said, not rising to Steffen’s teasing about his language skills. “I’m sure Carl would be all for it.”
Amelia detached herself from Steffen and slid her arm into Mark’s, which was a bit tricky as he now had two beers to carry. “I do love a British accent, especially coming out of a mouth as pretty as yours.” Apparently directness was a family trait.
Steffen came to his rescue, taking the glasses of beer. “Leave him be. He will not be interested in you.”
She leered at him and winked playfully. “He might be bisexual.”
Steffen rolled his eyes. “Are you, Mark?”
“Nope. I’ve known my preferences since I was twelve and thought football players were hotter than their wives.” He extracted his arm. “I’ll go get Carl. See you in a minute.”
Mark heard Amelia say, “Du hast einen sehr guten Geschmack. Er ist liebenswert.”
He didn’t know what she’d said, and Steffen’s reply was lost, but Carl was happy to give up his seat to join a larger group of people. Mark saw Steffen had chosen not to stand by the young man on his return, and as Mark approached he made room so Mark could stand next to him. Carl was in his element, enjoying telling stories to Steffen’s friends, and was doing a grand job of making it clear to Amelia he was not free or single.
“For some reason, I didn’t think you’d like this sort of place,” Mark said to Steffen, sipping his beer. “I thought you be one for an upscale private lounge or a pricey restaurant.”
“This place is not far from that. But I do tend to prefer somewhere a little quieter, where I can sit back and relax more. Nikola, my cousin”—Steffen pointed to the young man, and Mark felt like a complete lowlife for doubting him—“wanted to have a few drinks together after the meal. I like it in here, but I feel a bit too much on display.”
“Only because you’re a prize peacock. But you could attract attention in a black hole.”
“I will take that as a compliment, whether you meant it as one or not.”
It was all too easy to pretend to be Steffen’s boyfriend, although he’d scaled back how he would usually act. Less touching, innuendo kept to a minimum, not wanting to step over the line they had drawn for themselves.
Nikola was getting restless. “Who is up for a club?”
“I’ll be up for that,” said Carl. “Don’t get the chance as often these days—and it’ll be even rarer once the baby arrives.”
Mark had no interest in heading to a club. He would be much happier slipping into his pajamas and settling down with a book than shaking his arse on a dance floor. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m not feeling a club tonight.”
Carl looked disappointed. “Come on, Mark. You’re not that old.”
“Old enough not to succumb to peer pressure, thank you very much.”
Carl shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m sure our new friends will see me right. You can enjoy your jealousy when I tell you all about it on Monday.”
Steffen leaned in close. “Will you come home with me tonight?”
Those pajamas were suddenly a lot less appealing. “Not going to make sure your cousin behaves herself?”
“I gave up trying to do that when she was fourteen.”
MARK STRETCHED as he woke up in Steffen’s comfortable bed. He rolled over and reached out to check the time but knocked his watch off the side of the bed. “Shit.”
“You are so graceful. I wonder why the ballet has not called on you for your services.”
“Ha, ha. Fuck you.”
“On recent evidence, it has most definitely been the other way around.”
He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at Steffen and leaned over the edge to retrieve his watch. Somehow it had fallen through the crack in the slightly open drawer in the bedside table. Mark pulled it open, and his eyes widened at the selection of sex toys he found. Several dildos in different sizes, a collection of butt plugs, a few items he had no clue of what they were, and a pile of scarves, which he imagined, in context with the rest of the drawer’s contents, were used as restraints. “Bloody hell. How many have you got in there?”
Steffen rolled over and pressed up against him, peering over his shoulder. “You have found my fun drawer. See anything that you would like to use?”
Mark spotted his watch—resting across a cock ring—grabbed it, and slammed the drawer shut. Looking at the things in that drawer was a damning indictment of how vanilla his sex life had been. The idea of using toys didn’t bother him, and although he’d never really used them in the past, he wouldn’t mind a spot of experimentation. However, any excitement that he might have at the thought was tempered by the knowledge that everything in that drawer would have been used with someone else. He was being a jealous prick again.
“Not really my thing,” he said, although it came out as a squeak.
“No? I could not persuade you?” Steffen pressed a kiss to his shoulder.
He wanted Steffen to drop the subject. “I’m not that keen on having a dildo up my arse that’s been up someone else’s.”
Steffen huffed, although it sounded amused, not annoyed, and rolled away. “Most of the toys there have been used for self-pleasure.”
“That does surprise me. I thought you’d have used them with some of your previous playmates.”
“I am an extremely busy man. Sometimes I do not have the time or the energy to hunt for playmates, as you call them.”
Mark knew Steffen worked hard, but he’d come to the conclusion that Steffen played hard, and once again he felt a bit of an arsehole, making assumptions. It wasn’t Steffen’s fault Mark had turned into a boring git with jealous tendencies. “But I know you’ve had a lot of lovers. I suppose we’ve never really talked about our sexual history.”
He turned around to see Steffen lying on his back with his arm thrown over his face. “Do you want an absolute number, as that might take some time, or will you be satisfied with many?”
“I wasn’t asking for a number.” He didn’t need to know, and his unwarranted jealousy from the night before and over the toys needed to stop. They’d never said anything about not being with other people, and on reflection that was an oversight. As much as he might deny it, even though this was a casual relationship, he didn’t like the idea of Steffen sleeping with other people.
Steffen turned to face him. “Then what are you asking?”
Mark leaned against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. He decided to be honest. Knowing where he stood meant he wouldn’t constantly obsess about it. “When we joined you and your friends last night, I saw you talking to Nikola, and before I knew he was your cousin, I was jealous—okay. You did say at one point it wasn’t a problem me not liking certain things because there are always others who would.”
“Mark, I am not seeing anyone else at the moment. And it is not just because I am busy.” Steffen moved closer and placed a hand on Mark’s thigh. “I am enjoying spending this time with you, and I had not even considered seeing someone else while you are in Basel.”
The words made his heart stutter in relief, but he still asked, “Even though I might not want to do something you want to?”
“Oh, Mark, you must not think so little of yourself. Why you believe you are not enough to keep me interested, I have no idea.”
Past experience, Mark thought bitterly to himself. “You mentioned other people.”
“Only after you did!”
Mark supposed Steffen had a point. He sighed. “I’ve been called selfish by more than one partner, so I suppose there must be something in it.”
“You are not the only one to be accused of that. Just because you do not want to do what someone else wants to do, or you will not or cannot do something at a certain time, does not make you selfish. I suspect you’ve always tried but it was not enough.”
“You may be right. Although I could’ve tried harder.”
Steffen squeezed his thigh. “It would never have been enough. Those that constantly ask will only ask for more.”
It was nice to hear the words, but at the same time, knowing that nothing would progress with Steffen beyond what they already had made them bittersweet. They seemed so well matched, physically and in personality. Steffen’s directness wasn’t overbearing, maybe a bit disconcerting when he’d first encountered it, but now he was used to his manner. He liked that if he asked a question he would get an honest answer, as long as he was prepared either not to like what he heard or have to provide an answer in reply.
Steffen wrapped an arm about Mark’s middle, and Mark let himself be pulled back down the bed and into a deep kiss. He told his brain to shut up and melted into the kiss, determined to enjoy the moment.