Chapter Nine
At Terroir, a promise was beyond solid, it was ironclad.
In Bastian’s kitchen, it turned out that a promise was just as substantial, something that Kian had absolutely been counting on.
He’d long since recovered from his earlier orgasm, and while he might be younger than Bastian, Kian had definitely seen the outline of Bastian’s hard cock in his briefs. All it had taken was one very hot kiss, and a little dirty talk, and he was more than ready to go.
Since Kian was too, there seemed very little point in finishing this food exercise.
“Is that a promise?” Kian asked, licking his lips as seductively as he could get away with.
Truthfully, he didn’t know what the limit even was; or even what they were really doing here.
He’d set the most basic of boundaries: sex in this house, work at Terroir.
That had felt like the most Bastian was able to tolerate.
Kian could tell he was trying, but him pulling down even those boundaries had unmoored the man he loved.
Probably because Bastian fucking adored boundaries.
Bastian set the wooden spoon onto the counter next to the stove and flipped off the gas on the stove.
“Come over here, and see,” Bastian challenged.
Kian loved that; they challenged each other like this, just the way they challenged each other in the kitchen.
He’d never imagined meeting someone who could face him in every aspect of his life, and then he’d met Bastian and couldn’t believe he’d ever find anyone else who fit that particular set of criteria so perfectly, and so effortlessly.
They were perfect for each other. Someday, Kian thought, as he took a lazy sip of wine, eyeing Bastian over the top of his glass, they would talk about that, but for now, this was enough.
This was more than enough.
“You drive me insane,” Bastian ground out, and yeah, that was definitely mutual. His biceps bulged in his t-shirt as he clenched his fists around the edge of the marble countertop.
“You sound surprised by this,” Kian pointed out. Had he really believed that all he had to do was ask once, and Kian would just fall to his knees?
Probably, yes. Frankly, it was taking a lot of self-control to not do just that. But Kian had come here, tonight, to make a point, and that point had a much wider significance than merely breaking down Bastian’s argument against them hooking up.
If he crawled over there now, the very first time Bastian asked, it would only emphasize that Bastian was as in charge here as he was at Terroir, and that wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t have the upper hand everywhere; as much as Kian loved him, he knew Bastian would become insufferable.
“Surprised that you’re secretly a fantastic sexual tease?” Bastian laughed with dry amusement. “It’s a good sort of surprise.”
No doubt Bastian had figured he was young and therefore inexperienced and couldn’t really keep up. He was right about the first two, but Kian had zero intention of fulfilling the last prediction.
“Why don’t you come here?” Kian said.
“No orders to crawl?”
“If I wanted you on your knees again, I would’ve asked for that.” Kian continued to sip his wine, the alcohol brewing in his stomach alongside a very healthy dose of lust.
He never wanted Bastian to stop looking at him like that—like he was an angel and a god and a very naughty boy who needed to be spanked.
“How about on my feet?” Bastian asked, skirting around the corner, and tugging Kian’s barstool so it swiveled around.
Kian set his glass on the counter and was very aware his fingers were trembling.
He smoothed the fabric down Bastian’s shoulders, reveling in the fact that he was allowed to touch now, after so much time fighting down the inclination.
Bastian trailed fingers down his thigh to his calf and then lower, to his bare foot. He picked up and tucked Kian’s leg around his waist. “I think,” he said steadily, even as the heat in his eyes lit them both on fire, “it’s time we go to the bedroom. What do you think?”
Kian moved his other leg to mirror the first, gasping as Bastian pulled him tight against him, their dicks, with too many layers of clothing in between, brushing together.
Later, he’d think with triumph that Bastian had asked him, not merely demanded or even assumed. He’d asked. It was hard to even think straight, not with Bastian looking at him with all that scorching purpose, but it was enough for Kian to tilt his head back and let himself be kissed again.
It was the first kiss Bastian had initiated since their first, and the heat from it scorched Kian, pulling him in so deep that he barely even noticed as Bastian tucked a hand under his ass and lifted him off the barstool.
He carried him all the way to the bedroom, and Kian got a fleeting impression of an impressive bank of floor-to-ceiling windows, covered with dark partly translucent black shades, and a huge bed with a plain navy quilt, before he was deposited on it.
“Do you know, I’ve never once stopped cooking to have sex?” Bastian asked, breathing heavily, but not, Kian didn’t think, from carrying him. Probably from the kiss which had spun out and out until they were both breathless.
Kian wasn’t surprised by his confession. “I guess you haven’t had really good sex, then,” Kian theorized.
Normally, Bastian would no doubt be offended by the suggestion that he was less than brilliant at everything he attempted. But tonight, he just sat back on his heels and contemplated this statement. “I think you might be right,” Bastian finally admitted. “What about you?”
“I have a feeling it’s about to happen,” Kian said, reaching up and pulling back against him. “I want you to fuck me.”
Bastian looked surprised. Kian supposed that made sense. He’d been taking charge of every aspect of this encounter, and now it looked like he was giving away control. Kian would have assumed Bastian had more of a progressive opinion of sexual politics, but obviously not.
“What,” Kian said, “just because I want your cock in my ass, like I’ve been fantasizing about for two fucking years, that makes me the weak one? The subservient one?”
For a second, Bastian looked even more shocked. Then he slowly started to smile. “Goddamn it, you are fucking perfect,” he said, leaning down and kissing him thoroughly. He broke away only to say, “I would be fucking privileged to fuck you.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Kian asked.
Bastian leaned back again and stripped off his shirt. Kian trembled inside at having so much of Bastian revealed to him. He was powerfully built, with wide shoulders, impressive arms, and a flat, lightly rippled stomach and a trail of dark hair disappearing into his black briefs.
It was Bastian’s turn to smile cockily as Kian looked. “Like what you see?” he asked, running a hand lightly up Kian’s jean-clad leg. “I think you do,” he said, answering his own question as he cupped his cock in his palm. “I think you love it.”
“I do,” Kian moaned. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.”
“The first time I ever saw you,” Bastian said, reaching up to unbutton Kian’s jeans, then lowering his zipper, “I wanted to bend you right over the counter you were standing by. Just pull your pants down and tease you until you were begging me for it.”
It was scary how similar Kian had felt. He’d gone home that first night and alternating between his determination for Bastian to teach him how to be a great chef had been a truly stupendous orgasm, as he imagined Bastian punishing him for his snarky comment.
Bastian tugged his jeans off, his slow, methodical movements deliberate. Kian bit his lip. “Is that what you want me to do now, beg you for it?”
“Would you?” Bastian asked, the dark edge to his voice sending a thrill right through him.
“Maybe.” Definitely. Kian met his eyes in the dim room as Bastian pulled his boxer briefs off, still moving in that very slow, very deliberate manner, like there was no need to rush at all.
They’d been waiting for two fucking years.
That felt like a pretty good reason to Kian. His cock bobbed free, hard and aching.
“Maybe,” Kian breathed out unsteadily, “maybe if you did something worth me begging.”
Bastian rolled his eyes. “You hold that thought.” He leaned over and opened a drawer behind Kian.
“What’s that?” Kian asked, trying to see, but the room was too dark.
“You want me to fuck you raw?”
“Oh.” Kian told himself that this was already the best sex he’d already had, that it was totally fine and he wasn’t disappointed at all that Bastian had already moved past the really spectacular foreplay.
But he sort of was. He’d expected better—or at least something different, with the teasing promises he’d been making and the deliberately slow way he’d stripped his clothes off.
“Too quick for you?” Bastian raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see what you say when you’re begging for my cock.”
Kian gasped as Bastian’s fingers glided down his thigh, barely brushing against his cock and then his balls, and then found his hole. But instead of immediately inserting a finger, he just stroked around the rim, little teasing touches that had Kian squirming within moments.
He leaned over and his breath barely ghosted over Kian’s cock, which twitched against his belly, the wet head rubbing against his skin. “Did you want something?” Bastian asked, sounding very satisfied.
Something that Kian wasn’t—at all. “Yes,” he demanded.
Bastian chuckled, a dark, warm sound, and Kian shivered.
Finally, he slid the tip of his finger inside as he licked a long stripe up Kian’s cock. “Yeah,” Bastian said as Kian moaned at the fleeting brush of pleasure, “you’re definitely going to be begging for me.”
Kian almost said something back—something like, you wish—but then Bastian’s mouth was back on his dick and the finger was moving and pleasure crashed through him.