Page 119 of Two for Roughing

“When else are we going to do it?”

The waitress returned with beautifully seared steak strips alongside five elegantly plated ravioli filled with goat cheese and truffle and topped with parmesan and chestnut shavings. She narrated each item on their plates before leaving with another smile.

Damir picked up the next fork, hoping the interruption put the conversation to bed.

“So this is amazing,” Kilian decided, speaking with his mouth full. “Orgasm in my mouth level amazing. Good call on the restaurant. Seriously though, I want to know about all the kinky stuff, and we can’t talk about it on the plane or at work.”

Damir sliced a steak strip in half purely to have more bites with which to enjoy the food. “We could talk about it in one of our hotel rooms, where we won’t accidentally traumatize the waitstaff. Or at home.”

“But when I get you alone, I want to do kinky shit, not talk about it.”

It was a struggle to keep chewing evenly and swallow before responding. “Brat.”

Kilian flashed a cheeky grin. “What are you going to do about it?”

Damir took a bite of his ravioli and licked the excess butter sauce from his lips—what was that sharp note, lemon? It was inspired. He ought to remember it for the next time he made pasta. He leaned forward and, in a low voice, said, “Tie your arms behind your back and fuck your mouth.”

Kilian’s mouth dropped open, and his cheeks pinked. “Touché,” he muttered.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can absolutely tie me up.”

“Not that.”

“Okay, fine.”

Damir swiped the last bit of steak through the remains of the sauce, popped it in his mouth, and savored it before continuing. “Why haven’t you looked it up? The kink stuff?”

The waitress came to clear their plates then, but if she heard the last words, she was excellent at pretending she didn’t.

When she’d left, Damir hastened to add, “It’s not a requirement. But I know you looked up things about Russia and Islam for me. Or I think it was for me. If it wasn’t—”

“Of course it was for you.” Under the table, Kilian’s knee brushed against the inside of Damir’s thigh. “I was curious about you, and I didn’t know how to get to know you like a normal person, so I did some research.”

“Do you mean to say I wasn’t extremely approachable?”

“Most approachable hockey player who ever slid into my DMs.”

Damir knocked his knee against Kilian’s leg lightly. “Kilian.”

He wanted to ask who else had slid into Kilian’s DMs almost as much as he wanted to know the answer to his original question. But the fifth course arrived, and it deserved their attention. Kilian had a sesame-crusted tuna steak with seaweed salad and a perfect circle of rice while Damir enjoyed rabbit with collard greens and quinoa. He gave Kilian until the end of the course, even fulfilling his promise of feeding Kilian bites of the rabbit off the tip of his fork when he was sure their corner of the restaurant was deserted.

“So?” he asked when those plates had been cleared as well.

Kilian sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Part of what I like about it is giving up control. If I start googling kink checklists and how safewords work and stuff, then I have to decide what we do. And I want you to do that.”

Damir narrowed his eyes. “You did look it up a bit.”

“Sue me, I was curious.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Why’s it so important to you?”

“I could tell you anything. I could tell you it’s totally safe and consensual for me to tie you up with zip ties and gag you with no way to tell me to stop.” The thought made revulsion shiver along Damir’s spine and, with it, the need to protect Kilian from anything like it ever happening.

Kilian met his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow, but he didn’t respond immediately.