MARK LOVED mornings when he didn’t have to work, and with the final day of Fasnacht ahead of them, there was nowhere he needed to be for several hours. At some point, they would drag themselves out of bed and enjoy the Cortège, but for now he would savor waking up with no obnoxious alarm to obey. Staying at Steffen’s was great, but he needed to go back to his place to grab more clothes sooner than later.
The feel of cotton sheets against his skin made his toes tingle, and having Steffen pressing kisses to the side of his throat definitely added to the mix.
Mark leaned over and opened the drawer by the side of the bed. He’d been thinking about its contents idly on and off—the thought of doing something adventurous in part to thank Steffen for being his very attentive guide to Fasnacht, and to continue with his own reawakening that Steffen had rekindled in him. A flicker of a ghost from his past made him hesitate for a moment, but he pushed it away.
“I’ve been thinking about that drawer.”
“Really?”
“Yeah… I’m happy to try something new. I put myself in your hands.”
Steffen nuzzled behind his ear. “Are you sure?”
He appreciated the out, but he was going to go through with this. Some things needed to be laid to rest, and he trusted Steffen. “Yes.”
“If at any time you do not like something, tell me.” Steffen climbed over him, got out of bed, and crouched down. He looked like a kid who’d been offered the biggest chocolate ice cream. He took his time and selected two silk scarves. “On your back in the center of the bed. Arms above your head.”
He did as requested, not exactly jumping to obey but not dillydallying. Steffen gently tied one of the scarves around his left wrist. Mark ignored another flash of memory from the last time he’d done this. “Not too tight.”
Steffen loosened the scarf slightly. “Better?”
Mark relaxed a little. Steffen was a good guy; he would look after him, and he’d already proven he would stop if Mark asked him to. “Yeah, thanks.”
“You do not have to thank me.”
Steffen pressed a kiss to each of Mark’s wrists before weaving the scarf through the slats in the headboard and tying the end to Mark’s right wrist. Mark gave the scarf an experimental tug to check his bindings. So far it was okay, he could do this, but his resolve wavered a fraction as Steffen placed another scarf over his eyes and tied it in place as a blindfold. Mark took a couple of deep breaths as Steffen moved away. He just needed to focus, remember this was Steffen, and stay calm. Steffen wasn’t Olly.
He couldn’t stop the flinch when he heard something else being taken from the drawer.
He blinked rapidly in surprise as Steffen peeled off the blindfold and then untied the scarf from around his wrists. Mark stared up into Steffen’s worried face. “I told you to tell me if you did not like something.”
“I’m fine. Honestly. I just need a minute. Maybe you could explain what you’re doing so I don’t second-guess.”
“No. You are clearly uncomfortable, and I saw you flinch, Mark.”
Mark struggled to sit up. “I would’ve been okay. I want to do this. Think of it as a special thank-you for showing me Fasnacht, for introducing me to the city properly.”
“You do not need to do something you do not want to do to please me.”
Mark smiled sadly, unthinkingly stroking his wrist where the scarf had been tied. “I thought this would be something you’d enjoy.”
Steffen tutted. “I told you, what really makes sex pleasurable for me is knowing my partner is having a good time. I know I have had a lot of lovers, but you must realize that the connection we share is special, the sex fantastic, because we are both enjoying ourselves.”
“But—”
Steffen reached out and cradled Mark’s wrist gently. “You do not even realize you are stroking your wrist. What happened?”
Mark looked down where Steffen held him. He needed to find the words, but he wanted Steffen to know what had happened, and why it meant so much to him that Steffen had stopped. “One of the guys I dated for a while after university. He tied me up. Don’t get me wrong, I was all for it at first until he got a bit rough. I asked him to stop, and he calmed down, but he didn’t stop. As you can imagine, it caused some unpleasant arguments, and we broke up a few days later.”
Steffen wore an expression Mark couldn’t read, and he didn’t know if Steffen thought him an idiot for attempting something he was obviously uncomfortable with. “You are to never do this again. Understand me?”
“Steffen, I would’ve been okay.”
“I do not want anything we do to be associated with a fucking bastard who did not know how to treat you correctly.” He reached to the floor, grabbed his underwear, and slid them on. “I’m going to get a coffee. Maybe some breakfast.”
Mark hadn’t wanted to push Steffen away. “Steffen, come back to bed.”
“No. We are going to have a coffee, cake—I have some of that Linzer Torte you like—and cuddle and watch some stupid TV.” Steffen held out his hand. “Come on.”
Mark rolled out of bed, pulled on his own boxers, and grabbed Steffen’s hand. “I’m not sure there’s anything worth watching on Swiss telly.”
Steffen led him out of the bedroom. “What do you take me for, some sort of philistine? I have the British TV package.”
“BBC? Not just BBC Entertainment?”
“Yes.”
Mark happily settled into Steffen’s embrace on the sofa. Despite what had just happened, he realized he was happy, truly happy, and he hadn’t felt this content in years. “Oh, Steffen, BBC and breakfast cake—you really know how to spoil a boy. I thought I would have to binge-watch TV when I go back to the UK for my parents’ wedding anniversary.”
“When is that again?”
Mark would much rather stay here with Steffen in Basel, but he would be in serious shit if he missed the party. “Not this weekend but the weekend after.”
“Then how do you feel about going skiing on Saturday? The snow should still be good at Engelberg.”
“I’ve never been skiing,” he admitted. “I’m likely to spend most of my time on my arse.”
“That settles it. You cannot come to Switzerland and not go skiing at least once. And if your arse hurts after all the falls, I promise to kiss it better.”