Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Kieran
I followed Karl’s directions, and as I came around the corner of Motzstra?e, I spotted the café immediately. It was located on the corner of the street, rainbow awnings along both sides. Chairs and tables sat under them, half of them occupied with—
They’re all men.
There were tall men, short men, some in jeans, others in leather. They were all ages too, from twinks to guys probably as old as Karl, if not older.
A young man hovered by the corner door, looking along both streets. He wore jeans and a black tee. As I drew closer, I could make out the wording on his top, which consisted of six letters.
FSTABL
It took me a minute to work out the meaning, and then I had to stifle a gasp.
He’s okay walking around telling everyone he likes being fisted?
Apparently, my porn education had been good for something.
The guy peered at me as I approached. “Are you Kieran?”
I gaped. “You’re Hans?”
He grinned. “Yeah, that’s me.” He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. Now that I got a closer look, he had to be in his early twenties, with dark brown hair and equally dark eyes. His beard was neatly trimmed, his upper arms toned. Clearly a guy who took care of himself.
I was dying to ask how he knew Karl.
“Can I get you a coffee or something?” he asked, his voice clear and light.
“A latte would be good.”
He smiled. “Grab a table. I’ll be right back.” Then he disappeared into the café.
I glanced along the street and spied an empty round table, two chairs against the windows.
I removed my jacket and sat, draping it over my knee.
The day was already warming up. On either side of me were guys in leather jackets, and even a man wearing what looked like a rubber suit that clung to him.
Every part of him.
And then I noticed the passersby.
There was a constant stream of guys strolling past the café, all shapes, all sizes, and all ages. Some stopped to greet some of the café’s patrons, and there were hugs and kisses, some surprisingly intimate that made me feel as though I was intruding.
Canal Street was nothing like this.
Hans emerged from the café’s side door, carrying a tray. He placed two mugs on the table, then sat next to me.
I glanced at his shirt once more, and he noticed. “Do you like it? I got it from the House of Riegillio, a store around the corner.” He grinned. “Everyone says it could have been made for me.”
I couldn’t help myself. “And does that mean you are…?” I couldn’t get the word out.
Hans’s eyes sparkled. “Fistable? Oh God, yes. Definitely one of my favourite things,” he said in a sing-song voice.
The juxtaposition of fisting and Julie Andrews was… disturbing.
Hans dumped sweetener into his coffee. “So how bad is your German?”
I pulled a face. “Bad. I haven’t spoken it for twenty-six years.”
He winced. “Ouch.” He let out a sigh. “Okay, then we’ll start slowly.” He looked me up and down, and smiled. “Karl didn’t mention I’d have such a hot student.”
I almost choked on my coffee. “Excuse me?”
Hans rolled his eyes. “Come on now. You must know what a sexy guy you are.”
I gaped at him. “I’m old enough to be your father.”
He grinned. “Even better. I’m into older men.”
My eyes had to be like saucers. “Does Karl know this?” It crossed my mind for a second that I’d been set up. Karl had been the one to mention exploration, after all.
Hans laughed. “Sure he does.” Then he shrugged. “But I was never one of his students, so it felt okay to make a pass at him.”
I blinked. “But… he’s straight.”
He merely arched his eyebrows at that, and one word from my conversation with Karl the previous day came back to flit through my head and settle there.
Experience.
I don’t know him at all, do I?
I took refuge in my coffee, watching the steady stream of men going to and fro, more and more of them in leather. A bunch of guys headed for the door to the café, and one of them caught my eye. There was something familiar about the way he held himself, the way he moved.
Then it clicked.
Stefan.
My breathing hitched. I turned my head to watch him through the window as he joined the queue, facing the counter, one hand resting casually on the glass covering the cakes and rolls. He was talking to one of the men he’d arrived with. No suit this time, just black jeans and a black sweatshirt.
For a moment, the noise from the café seemed to recede.
“You know him.”
I blinked, dragged back into the moment. Hans was watching me with open amusement.
I drew in a breath. “We met yesterday at the airport. He… helped me.”
Hans’s smile sharpened. “And you like him.”
I swallowed. “He seemed like a nice guy,” I said in a nonchalant voice.
Hans’s lips twitched. “No, I mean you like him.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Hans was already on his feet.
“Where are you going?” I demanded.
“To help,” Hans said, as if that explained everything. And before I could stop him, he’d disappeared into the café again.
“Wait—Hans—” A flicker of alarm spiked through me.
Too late.
I watched, helpless, as Hans approached Stefan in the queue. Said something. Then Stefan turned—
And looked straight at me.
I saw the instant spark of recognition, followed by a smile. And something else.
Interest.
My stomach clenched.
Hans spoke again, gesturing towards the window. Stefan nodded once, still watching me. Then Hans turned and came back outside, looking way too pleased with himself.
“He’s going to join us,” he said, sitting down.
I stared at him. “What did you say to him?”
“Not much,” he said breezily.
I clenched my hands into fists. “Hans, what did you say?”
He grinned. “That you thought he was hot, and he should come and have coffee with you.”
My jaw dropped. “I never said—”
“Relax.” Hans waved his hand. “He didn’t seem offended.”
“That’s not the point—”
“Too late,” he interjected as Stefan stepped outside, coffee in hand, and came over to where I sat.
“Hello again.” His eyes twinkled. His voice was the same, warm and easy.
“Hello.” It was all I could manage to get out.
Stefan glanced briefly at Hans, then back to me. “Your friend is very persuasive.”
I shot Hans a look. “So I’ve gathered. And he isn’t my friend. We’ve only just met. And—”
“Oh dear,” Hans said with an exaggerated sigh as he rose to his feet. “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut our lesson short. Another time, maybe?” He moved as if to walk away.
“Hey!” I called out, aware of heads turning in my direction. “You’re supposed to be teaching me German.”
“And I will—soon.” Then he grinned. “Or maybe you’ll find yourself another tutor. You can have my coffee.” And with that, he strolled away from the café.
I stared after him.
A cough sounded close by. Stefan gestured to the empty chair next to mine. “May I?”
“Of course,” I said. Because what else could I say? Saying no seemed optimistic, given the current state of my brain. It would also require a level of composure I no longer possessed.
I made a mental note to find Hans later and do… something. I hadn’t yet decided what. I stared after him, still annoyed.
“I won’t ever let you teach me anything, that’s for sure,” I muttered.
Stefan’s wry chuckle snapped me back into the present. “Oh, I don’t know. He seemed very… enthusiastic.”
“Yes.” I followed Han’s retreat with a glare. “About completely the wrong things.” I shook my head. “I came here to learn German, not to be auctioned off.”
Then I realised I’d spoken out loud. I clammed up.
Stefan’s mouth twitched. “You weren’t auctioned.”
I snorted. “Give him time.”
Stefan sat down beside me, closer than he’d been on the train.
Not that I was measuring.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon,” he said.
“Nor was I,” I admitted. There was no way I could stop myself. “What exactly did he say to you?”
Stefan’s smile deepened. “Are you sure you want to know?”
I hesitated before replying. “Yes.”
He leaned back in his chair, but his gaze didn’t shift. “He told me you couldn’t keep your eyes off me.”
Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.
I was going to kill Hans.
“He also said you thought I was very attractive, and that I should come and join you for coffee.”
I felt heat rise instantly in my chest, neck, and face, sharp and undeniable.
“I didn’t say that.” Which, while technically true, felt like a weak defence under the circumstances.
“I know,” Stefan said with a smile.
That stopped me in my tracks. “You do?”
“Yes.” His smile didn’t falter. “But I’m glad he did.”
That didn’t help. If anything, it made things considerably worse.
I held his gaze, long enough to realise this was a mistake. Not long enough to look away.
And there it was again, that same feeling from the train. Not just awareness or curiosity, but something heavier.
I looked down at the table.
“So,” Stefan said after a moment, as if nothing had happened, “how is Berlin treating you so far?”
I exhaled, trying to steady myself. “It’s not what I expected.”
Stefan tilted his head. “In a good way?”
“I think so.”
He nodded. “Good.” A moment later, his voice softened a fraction. “Then perhaps I should make sure it lives up to expectations.”
My pulse quickened. There was nothing overt in his words, but…
The way he said them.
The way he looks at me.
It didn’t feel like a general offer.
“Perhaps,” I said. My voice sounded more raw than I’d intended, but I didn’t look away this time.
Neither did Stefan. He locked gazes with me, and something shifted. The space between us felt different. Charged.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The noise of the café drifted back in around us—cups, voices, the low hum of conversation—but it felt oddly distant.
Stefan broke the silence first. “How long are you in Berlin?”
I blinked. “I’m not sure.” I managed a smile. “My friend says I can stay as long as I like.”
“Good,” Stefan said.
I frowned. “Good?”
“Yes.” Stefan’s eyes sparkled. “It means you have time to see the city properly.”
“I was planning to. At some point.”
“Planning and doing are not always the same thing.”
I chuckled. “That’s probably true.”