Not All Chocolate and Cuckoo Clocks

by Rebecca Cohen

“Steffen’s a far better cook than me. There’s no way I wasn’t going to take advantage of that.”

  “You enjoy cooking, Steffen?” asked Liam, looking up from his menu, and Steffen remembered Mark had called his father a bit of a foodie.

  “I do. I like to dabble, and, so far, Mark has not complained—not to my face anyway.”

  “Once Liam retired I handed over the reins of the kitchen to him,” Diana said fondly. “I must say, he has a much broader repertoire than me.”

  Steffen was grateful for the common ground. Making small talk could be draining, but Liam’s enthusiasm for combining flavors bubbled over, and Steffen followed Liam’s recommendation for dinner. He began to relax a little after a few sips of his aperitif, but he knew he was still being assessed carefully by Mark’s parents. Halfway through the duck starter, Steffen realized the inquisition, albeit a gentle one, was about to begin.

  “Mark said you own your own business,” said Diana.

  “That is right, computer systems and infrastructure, working out the best ways of adapting IT for a company’s needs.”

  “So not something that has to be done out of Basel, then?”

  “Mum,” warned Mark.

  “What? I’m only asking.”

  Mark pursed his lips. “No, you’re not.”

  Steffen stepped in. “I built up the company in Basel. In theory I could have done it somewhere else, but it is where I call home. I very much hope Mark will feel the same.”

  She hummed. “I must admit, I hadn’t expected my baby boy to go so far away.”

  “It’s only an hour-and-a-half’s flight. It’s not like I’m moving to Sydney.” Steffen held his tongue. Mark was in a far better position to deal with his mother. “I’m sure you’ll love Basel when you come and visit.”

  “There’s a river cruise of the Rhine that starts in Basel and works its way to Amsterdam,” Liam said, ignoring the exasperated look from his wife. “We could do it the other way around and visit Basel at the end, rather than fly straight back.”

  “Liam, I thought you agreed with me on this.”

  Liam huffed. “He’s a grown man. It’s not like he’s sixteen and knocked up his girlfriend.”

  Steffen nearly choked on his wine. Mark shook his head. “Please, both of you, stop trying to kill me with embarrassment. I don’t want Steffen thinking insanity runs in the family—he might not let me back into his apartment.”

  Steffen had suffered at the hands of his own mother when she’d met Mark, so he slid his hand to rest on Mark’s thigh for gentle support. “There is no chance of that happening, but you would not like it if your mother was not concerned. When I left to live in the UK for a while, my mother was extremely worried. She had convinced herself I would be mugged, or stabbed… or God knows what.”

  “See, at least Steffen understands. I’m just being a mum—and mums worry.”

  “Rest assured, Diana, I will take care of Mark in Basel. It is a much safer city than Cambridge. I was burgled three times in the seven years I was there.”

  Diana wrinkled her nose. “I suppose Switzerland is a safe country.”

  Steffen saw Mark smile into his glass, and Steffen guessed he was getting somewhere. He needed to turn it up a notch. He sensed he just needed to show her his appreciation of her son and make sure she knew he wasn’t about to leave Mark. “Very much so. And the job prospects of someone with Mark’s talents are extremely good.”

  “They wouldn’t have transferred him if he wasn’t good,” Diana said, and smiled at Mark before turning back to Steffen. “But I have to say, you two haven’t exactly been together long.”

  “Mum!” hissed Mark.

  Steffen was used to clients needing assurance. Unruffling feathers was one of the most important roles of his job, and dealing with Mark’s mum would involve a similar tactic.

  “I understand your concern, but also, while it might only be five months, we have both put a lot of effort into our relationship. I have known married couples do less when separated by a distance, so I do not feel it fair that you judge our commitment solely on length. By the time Mark relocates, it will be closer to nine months, and we are not getting any younger. I do not see the point in wasting more time.”

  The waiter chose that moment to refresh their wineglasses and remove the plates. Steffen excused himself from the table. The look Mark had shot him told Steffen he would have words with his parents while Steffen was gone. He didn’t exactly dawdle, but he could have been quicker, and returned to the table as the waiters were gearing up to serve their main course.

  If nothing else, he couldn’t fault the food. Meeting Mark’s parents was always going to be a tricky situation to maneuver, but at least he could do so with fine wine and a chef who knew his way around a kitchen. Diana looked a little happier, and Steffen thought Liam was a lot more laid-back than his wife and would adapt to most things if accompanied with a crisp French white wine.

  Liam raised his glass. “I think a toast is in order. While you may not have been together as long as some couples, I can already see a real change in Mark. I raise my glass to your new start together in Basel, and I hope you’ve a spare room for us to visit!”

  Whatever Mark had said to his mum while Steffen was in the bathroom seemed to have done the trick. She smiled genuinely and held up her glass. “Welcome to the family, Steffen.”

  “Thank you. I consider myself to be a very lucky man.” That was clearly the right thing to say, as Diana smiled even wider.

  Meeting Mark’s parents had in the end gone as well as could be expected, better even. Now all they had to do was survive Mark meeting Steffen’s father, brother, and sister when Mark next visited Basel. But at least they already had the support of Steffen’s mother, who was more than capable of making the rest of his family behave.

  Chapter Eighteen

  MARK SWAPPED his phone from one ear to the other, wedging it in place between his shoulder and cheek in order to dig out his door key. “Mum, no, it’s fine. We wouldn’t dream of asking you to stay at a hotel—we have plenty of room.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, and Mark didn’t know how many times he had to tell her it would be all right to stay with them when she and Dad came to visit Basel. “You’ve not been out there long, and we don’t want to impose.”

  He opened the front door and took the lift. “I’ll have been here seven months by the time you visit, and even if it were shorter, you still wouldn’t be imposing. Hotels are ridiculous at the best of times, but during Fasnacht they’re eye-wateringly expensive.”

  “All right, love. I’ll book the flights tonight. Your dad’s fussing about where his passport is—silly sod.” She sounded so fond, and he suspected she knew exactly where it was and was enjoying watching Dad stew.

  “Well, let me know your dates and times, and we’ll make sure we’re available to meet you at the airport.”

  “Will do. And you’re sure you can’t make it home for Christmas?”

  “Sorry, Mum. I don’t have much holiday for this year, and it’s mine and Steffen’s first Christmas together.” He’d been invited for a traditional Christmas Eve dinner with Steffen’s parents, and he’d accepted on the agreement they’d spend Christmas Day on their own. “I thought you and Dad were going to Laura’s.”

  “We are, but if you were back, you’d come along too.”

  “Maybe next year. Laura’s coming out to visit the Christmas markets, so we’ll see her anyway.” He stepped out of the lift. “I’d better go, Mum. Send me your flight details, and I’ll speak to you soon.”

  He’d spoken to his mum more on the phone in the last three months since moving to Switzerland than he had for the two years before. She’d not been too keen on him moving when he’d broken the news to her, but then he’d introduced Steffen to his parents, and after a little persuasion, Basel was now some wonderful place that would be his ticket to eternal happiness. She wouldn’t have thought that if she’d heard the string of German expletives
Steffen had launched into last night after taking a call, the result of which had him disappearing off to Zurich first thing that morning to appease a client.

  Letting himself into the apartment, Mark called out but got no answer, and he wondered if Steffen would make it back that evening. The couple of texts he’d received had hinted at a long day of heavy discussions, which didn’t sound like they would be coming to a resolution anytime soon. If Steffen wasn’t back by eight, he’d try to call him, but Mark had been in the middle of shitstorms before, ended up working through the night, and he would understand if Steffen didn’t want the interruption.

  He stared into the fridge, hoping inspiration would strike. There were plenty of options if he could be arsed, but Steffen was a far better cook than him and actually enjoyed it. Nothing grabbed him, so he opted to take a shower in the hope a fridge-based miracle might occur, and dinner would magically appear later once he was damp and smelling sweeter.

  One of the many wonderful things about moving in with Steffen was the shower in the en suite of their bedroom, and he washed away the irritations of the day. His boss was great, and she had trusted him with a new, highly complicated project, but one of the new apprentices who had been assigned to him to help would need taking down a peg or two or they weren’t going to last long.

  He dried himself and hung the towel on the heated rail to dry, thankful for Steffen’s insistence on keeping their apartment warmer than Mark had done in the UK. The heating system in his old flat had been inefficient and noisy, so even though he could afford to turn it on full blast, it had struggled to keep him warm despite several attempts by his landlord to fix it.

  Mark padded naked out of the bathroom and let out a shriek—a noise he would not be proud of later—at the sight that confronted him. “Fucking hell! What are you doing with that thing?”

  Standing proudly, hands on his hips and completely naked from the neck down, was Steffen. Usually seeing Steffen without his clothes on was a glorious sight, but even his abs couldn’t distract from the monstrosity he wore on his head.

  “My mother arranged for their attic to be cleaned and found this,” Steffen said, sounding muffled. “Is it not a thing of beauty?”

  “No, it fucking isn’t!”

  “Oh, Mark, I had hopes of lying back with you riding me as I wore this piece of Basel tradition. Will you not embrace the history of your new city and indulge me in this one little thing?” Steffen said. He was trying not to snigger but couldn’t keep the playfulness out of his voice.

  “No, I won’t. You’ll take it off if you want me to embrace anything of yours.”

  Steffen reached up and stroked the long green hair of the papier-mâché Waggis head. The paint on its long, bent nose and crooked teeth was flaking, and Mark guessed this was what Steffen had worn as a Waggis when he was younger. If Steffen thought the ugly piece of shit was staying in their bedroom, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

  Mark folded his arms across his chest, uncaring that he was still naked. “Take. It. Off.”

  Steffen huffed but removed the head. “Maybe I will persuade you at a later date.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it. You already told me what you got up to when you used to play at being a Waggis. If you think I’m letting you fuck me while wearing that thing, we need to get you to a hospital, because you’re having delusions.” The Waggis head was probably one of the least sexy things he’d seen in a long time. The connotations of what Steffen had done in his youth while wearing it were not lost on him, and the combination meant zero chance Steffen would get his wish.

  Steffen placed the head on a chair in the corner of the room and was intelligent enough to collect a blanket and throw it over the offending object. “I must admit I did not expect such a strong reaction, but on reconsideration I suppose I should have realized that some things have no place in our bedroom.”

  “It seems you were smart enough to earn your doctorate. I was beginning to worry that Cambridge made a terrible mistake.”

  Steffen opened his arms. “Am I forgiven? I have had a very tiring day, and there are people unharmed solely because I knew I was coming home to you.”

  How could he even continue to feign anger when Steffen said such things? Bastard. “I suppose so.” But Mark was already crossing the room, and happily let Steffen wrap his arms around him. “I thought you weren’t coming home, that you’d be stranded in Zurich for the night.”

  “A good Basler will ensure they are never stranded in Zurich if there is any chance to escape, but it was a close call. I left my team running diagnostics on a program that should have had the bugs knocked out of it months ago.”

  “Sounds like a lot of pain that could have been avoided.” He pressed a kiss to Steffen’s collarbone. “But I’m very glad to have you home.”

  “I will have an early start. I have to be there all day tomorrow. If only to glare at one of my inept technical managers so he doesn’t try and bypass the processes that are in place for a reason.”

  “Then I better find a way to take your mind off work for a while.”

  Steffen slid his hand down Mark’s back, and Mark shivered with anticipation as Steffen’s hands came to rest on his buttocks with a gentle squeeze. He’d half expected the initial passion to wear off—not completely wane but be reined in—but that hadn’t happened. Maybe it was the months of being apart and grabbing weekends together as often as they could, but if anything, he was even more excited at the prospect of Steffen taking him to bed.

  Mark walked them backward, Steffen going willingly, and they toppled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Three months of calling this apartment home had only improved their lovemaking. Finally being able to say they were together, not just physically but geographically, was better than any gift Mark had ever received. He pressed hot, desperate kisses up and under Steffen’s chin and across his jaw. He wanted to feel skin against skin and whined as Steffen pulled away, but once his lust-addled mind had caught up with Steffen’s intention he let his head fall back and enjoyed. The trail of kisses running south across his stomach caused him to moan low and needy, and he gasped as Steffen’s hot, talented mouth descended on his cock, swallowing him down.

  Steffen used every trick in his arsenal to push Mark to the edge; he hummed and sucked, working his tongue under Mark’s shaft. Mark grabbed the sheets, trying not to buck up as Steffen took him into his throat, and a finger gently stroking his perineum was all it took for Mark to come with a strangled cry.

  His head spun, and Mark was only vaguely aware Steffen had collected lube and a condom when slippery fingers were pressed into him. A sloppy kiss distracted him further; he loved the taste of himself on Steffen’s tongue. No one had been able to get his body to respond like Steffen.

  Steffen removed his fingers, coaxing Mark to flip over and onto his knees, and replaced them with his cock. Mark was already hard again. Steffen fucked him with deep, even thrusts and a litany of encouragement which had Mark whimpering incoherently. He braced himself as Steffen became wilder, more erratic and frantic, and Mark loved the sound of skin slapping against skin and heavy breathing as Steffen panted at the exertion. Steffen somehow managed to reach around and grab Mark’s cock, stroking him as he came and leading Mark into his second orgasm.

  They collapsed together, Mark moving so he could cradle Steffen’s jaw with his hands and claim a deep kiss. His heart hammered in his ears, and he panted out his breaths, trying to calm down.

  “You can safely say you have erased all concerns of work,” said Steffen, stealing another kiss after dealing with the condom. “I meant it when I said coming home to you makes it all worthwhile.”

  “You sentimental fool.” Mark yelped as Steffen tickled his ribs, trying to wriggle away, but Steffen was not letting him escape. “Okay, okay. Being here is probably the best part of my day.”

  Steffen rolled him onto his back, nose to nose, with a pretend look of annoyance. “Probably? What could be better than this?”


  “Sometimes people bring in macarons from Sprüngli, and you know how I feel about them—especially the raspberry ones.”

  “Devil, comparing me unfavorably to a cake!”

  Mark slid his hand into the damp hair at Steffen’s nape. “Your devil. There’s no getting rid of me now. You realize you’re stuck with me? I don’t move countries for just anybody.”

  Steffen laughed, rolled backward, and pulled Mark with him so Mark could rest his head on his chest. “Then I suppose I will keep you. I will have to work on my plan to improve your German, if only to save my ears from bleeding.”

  “I’m sure you’ll cope with me murdering your language as long as I apologize correctly and suck your cock. Und ich bin sehr gut at that.”

  Steffen groaned. “Now you are doing it deliberately. Stop it, or I really will introduce penalties.”

  Mark smiled as he nuzzled Steffen’s chest. “No, you won’t. You love me and my arse far too much for that.”

  “Genau. Even so, some men would not have my endless patience.”

  “Ja, ja, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

  Mark hugged Steffen even tighter. His German was terrible, but it would get better. He was still adjusting to living in a new country, but every day he felt a little more at home. However, none of it mattered because he knew he’d made the right decision. Whatever happened, he and Steffen would continue to deal with it Tag für Tag.

  More from Rebecca Cohen

  A Treading the Boards Novella

  Andy Marshall moves to London looking for a fresh start after breaking up with his long-term boyfriend. To stave off boredom from his day job as an accountant and to meet new people, Andy joins a local amateur dramatics society called the Sarky Players based in Greenwich, South London. Despite his best efforts to avoid it, Andy is cast as one of the leads in a truly dreadful play called Whoops, Vicar, There Goes My Trousers, written by a local playwright.

  The play might be bad, but the Sarky Players are a friendly bunch. Andy quickly makes new friends and finds himself attracted to Phil Cormack, a local artist helping with the props. But life doesn’t run to a script, so Andy and Phil will have to work hard to improvise their own happy ending.