Not All Chocolate and Cuckoo Clocks

by Rebecca Cohen

  “Answer me, Steffen, or I’ll get off.”

  “I am fine.” Steffen canted his hips upward, and the press of Steffen’s cock against his buttocks told Mark that at least one part of Steffen was ready to go. And Mark wanted to get on with it. After all, this was about sex. Not love or lifelong devotion.

  Mark shifted backward so he could run his fingers through Steffen’s soft pubic hair, chasing his treasure trail and causing Steffen to let out a gentle sigh as Mark wrapped his hand around Steffen’s hard cock. Checking that the condom was in place, Mark grabbed the lube.

  “You just lie there and think of Switzerland.”

  Mark leaned forward and took one of Steffen’s nipples into his mouth. Steffen’s back arched as Mark gently sucked at the nub while simultaneously working Steffen’s cock with his now lube-coated hand. A few strokes later Steffen was ready for what Mark had in mind.

  Steffen’s body was a sight to behold, and Mark trailed a finger down Steffen’s chest, circling his belly button and delighting in the effect of his simple touch. He repositioned himself and sank down onto Steffen’s cock, taking him inch by inch, accompanied by a delicious burn, enjoying Steffen’s blissed-out expression. Slowly he began to fuck himself on Steffen’s cock. He loved the noises Steffen made as he rode him, building up the pace and setting the rhythm he wanted. He’d not realized how much he’d missed this, not sex in general, but the freedom of taking what he needed instead of going along with whatever his partner felt like. God, Steffen didn’t know what he had unleashed.

  Steffen was close; Mark could feel Steffen’s thighs quiver, and with a deep, guttural moan, he came, fingers digging into Mark’s hips. His second orgasm building, Mark rode Steffen, controlling the perfect angle and depth to bring him to his climax, and Mark came in pearly white ribbons over Steffen’s stomach.

  Grinning wildly, he eased himself off Steffen’s cock, dealt with the condom, and collapsed onto the bed. Steffen pulled him close so he could rest his head on Steffen’s chest. “You are amazing.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  Steffen’s fingers traced patterns across Mark’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for pushing too quickly to start with.”

  “It’s not really a matter of going too quickly, Steffen. I’m not that into the rough stuff and giving over complete control. I’m sure other men would be fine with it.”

  Steffen huffed. “That was not the rough stuff.”

  Mark couldn’t tell if Steffen was annoyed. His tone was neutral enough. The words were dismissive, but that could be the language difference. Steffen’s English was very good, but it was not his mother tongue. “I’m not completely vanilla, as I’m sure you can tell by that last performance. But that’s not the way to push my buttons—so to speak.”

  “Well, I suppose there are others if my extremely well-buried dominant side requires a day out.”

  Others. Even though he’d used the word in his explanation to Steffen of his own tastes, the word spoken by Steffen unsettled him in a way he wasn’t expecting. He’d come to terms with the fact that they were casual, but a pang of something unpleasant hit him. He didn’t like the idea of Steffen sleeping with others while they were together. He had no right to be annoyed, and on reflection, he wasn’t annoyed—he was jealous, and he was fucking stupid to be. He needed to stop himself from falling down a rabbit hole into a world where Steffen was exclusively his, where they were doing more than fucking. Sex was sex, and he should focus on that.

  “Are you all right?” Steffen asked.

  “Yeah.” He slid his hand across Steffen’s flat, slightly hairy belly. “I’m more than all right.”

  Steffen turned to him, his smile crooked and happy. He grabbed Mark and pulled him in for a messy kiss. Mark surrendered to it, letting his hormones chase away any negative thoughts.

  Chapter Six

  STEFFEN DRUMMED his fingers against the steering wheel of the car as he waited for Amelia to emerge from the airport terminal. Quite why he’d got roped into picking her up from Zurich airport didn’t really matter, but Amelia had whined to her mother about having to get her bags back to Basel on the train, and in turn his aunt had spoken to his mother, so here he was. Next time he would pay for her to get a cab, because he had better things to do with his evenings. He’d seen Mark the evening before, and they’d not made it to the bedroom, falling in a tangle onto his coach. Steffen preferred to be in control, and that trait extended past his love life to his business dealings. While he had a dominant streak at times, he generally had no desire to completely overwhelm a partner. But he’d lost sight of that on Saturday with Mark. He’d wanted Mark so badly he’d lost himself in the moment, not realizing Mark’s discomfort. But then Mark had completely surprised him by taking control, and the resulting sex had left him desperate for more.

  When he’d started this, Steffen hadn’t expected to find spending time with Mark so easy. He hadn’t been this drawn to someone since Peter. But he didn’t want to make parallels, and he couldn’t risk falling for Mark. Couldn’t put his heart through that again. He was already busy this upcoming weekend, and he thought it might be a good thing. Give him some distance and stop himself getting carried away with a stupid fantasy.

  He spotted his cousin tottering along, pushing a heavily laden luggage trolley, looking like she’d just walked out of a beauty salon and not off an eight-hour flight from New York. He got out of the car and opened the trunk of the BMW, which he’d borrowed from his father, not seeing the need to keep a car of his own while living in the center of Basel.

  “I see they have let you back into the country.” They exchanged the usual three cheek kisses. “I should probably lodge a complaint that immigration are not doing their jobs correctly.”

  “Ha, ha, Steffen. I see you’re as annoying as usual.”

  “Is that any way to speak to your favorite cousin, who has driven all this way to collect you?”

  “Admit it, you’ve missed me while I’ve been in the States.”

  She didn’t give him time to respond as she walked away to return the trolley. Steffen tutted but went to find a parking meter and returned to the car to see Amelia busy tapping away on her Handy. He unlocked the car, the beep causing her to look up from her phone. “Are you coming to Aunt Serena’s celebration on Saturday?”

  “As if I have any choice in the matter,” he said as he got into the car. “I could have done without it. I have a client dinner on Friday and enough work to keep me busy for the whole weekend.”

  “You big sourpuss. You know Serena adores you—you’ve always been her favorite.” She gasped. “Oh, have you heard Nikola is going to do his military service after finishing his Gymnasium rather than going straight to ETH? Aunt Simone is livid.”

  “I can imagine him going to Zurich rather than Basel would be most upsetting.” He eased out of the car park space, heading for the exit to the autobahn.

  “You know that isn’t the reason.”

  Steffen huffed. His family drove him to distraction at times. “He’s only doing what I did—and I might add it was just what I needed at the time. Nikola is feeling a bit lost, and it will give him the chance to decide what he wants to do.”

  “You’ve spoken to him?”

  “Of course I fucking have. If my cousin comes to me needing advice, I’m not going to send him away.”

  Amelia let out a low whistle, a habit she’d picked up from her American father. “I hope you realize if his dad finds out, he’ll be pissed.”

  “Uncle Gerald knows, and he is okay. Not super happy, but there are worse things your teenage son could be getting up to.” Steffen really didn’t understand the concern; all Swiss men were meant to do their military service. “It gets the Army out of the way. He does his required days. Then he’s completely free. No one will be chasing after him to do his two weeks every year or take a chunk out of his salary as a tax for not doing it.”

  “Still….”

  “No, look, you are a woman.
You did not have to do military service. I did, and I chose to get it out of the way in one go. I enjoyed it. I was nineteen, horny, and newly understanding my sexuality—it was a good time for me. I still have friends from then, and got my father off my back about what I wanted to do. I think in the end, it even helped me decide to spend some time away from Switzerland—it certainly did not stop me getting into Cambridge.”

  Amelia hummed but dropped the subject. She flipped down the sun visor and checked her lipstick in the mirror. “Are you bringing someone tomorrow?”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “We all want you to be happy—it’s been years since Peter.”

  He clenched his jaw. His family seemed unable to delete the name from their vocabulary. He expected better from Amelia—she was one of the few who knew the full extent of how badly he’d been hurt by the cheating bastard. “Who says I am not happy?”

  “The way your knuckles are gripping the steering wheel at the mere mention of Peter’s name is a small indication.”

  “I do not want to talk about it. If you must know, I am sort of seeing someone.”

  “Sort of?”

  “Nothing serious, fun for a while,” he said dismissively.

  “Since when do you see someone”—she made the annoying pointy fingers—“without it being serious? I know you fuck about, Steffen, but repeat performances are different.”

  She was right, of course. Spending time with Mark was the highlight of his week, and that was a dangerous game. But that didn’t mean he was going to admit it. “He is a nice guy, lovely actually, but we have a shelf life. He is only here for a short while, so there is no point in looking any deeper.”

  She clicked her tongue. “Canned meat has a shelf life, not relationships. Where’s this lovely man from?”

  “The UK—Mark is here for work.”

  “I thought you were going to say something insurmountable like Australia, but the UK is nothing! You could easily work around that.”

  “No, it is too much. I could not entertain a long-distance relationship—work is far too busy.” Steffen didn’t want her to pick away at this, but Amelia had a talent of being able to cut through bullshit with ease.

  “Sounds to me like you’re scared.”

  “Maybe.” He changed lanes and took the exit slip road to Basel. “I am treating it as a transitioning.”

  “Yeah, right. From idiot to moron.”

  “No, from the one-night stands to something more serious. I am out of practice, and Mark is not expecting anything from me.”

  “Still sounds kinda stupid. Why don’t you give it a proper chance? What’s the worst that could happen?”

  He could get screwed over again. While he would accept Mark wasn’t Peter, and Mark had none of his ex’s arrogance, Steffen wasn’t ready to take the risk. Steffen was already in danger of getting in too deep. Perhaps he should pull back for a while, put a bit of distance between them. He had thought about arranging to meet Mark on Sunday but hadn’t suggested anything yet. Now he wasn’t so sure. A little break would dampen the flames, give him perspective, and that was what he really needed now.

  It wouldn’t stop him leaving a small pile of Lackerli biscuits on Mark’s desk in the morning when he popped in to see Kaz, knowing Mark would be at the client’s office for a workshop.

  Chapter Seven

  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.