Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SIMON
Sitting across from Oren and Thorne at the ass crack of dawn, I’d already downed an entire cup of coffee full of cream and sugar. It was the only way to drink the stuff, but I hadn’t planned to fight over the fucking creamer.
Oren kept them behind his arm, fending for them as if his life depended on it. Glaring at me, he scooted them closer. “This is for staring at… You know.”
“What? Thorne’s cock?” I said, unamused as I took a sip. “Want me to see yours—”
“No.”
“My hell, you’re still on that?” Rubbing his eyes, Thorne extended his legs beneath the table. “It’s partially not his fault, considering how large—”
“Stop talking about it,” he huffed, adding milk to his already near-white coffee.
“You know, I could’ve just bought you warm milk.”
“But it wouldn’t have the caffeine or… uh, tang to it that I like.”
“What tang? It’s glorified sugar.” Drumming my fingers along the table, my stomach growled. “God, how much longer is the food going to take?”
“Hopefully not long,” the familiar voice crooned, overpowering the chime of the bell alerting his presence.
Auburn hair tamed just as it’d been in his office, confidence oozed from Levander in thick waves.
Clashing with his porcelain skin, the black trench coat he’d wrapped himself in seemed to be made with the highest quality fabric.
The plush fur lining his neck kept him protected from the crisp air that blanketed Novosibirsk, while also ensuring he stood out against the crowd.
Offering us a cheeky grin, his capped-silver canines made their appearance as he slipped onto the bench beside me. “You all seem… elated.”
“Levander!” Oren smiled, his radiance not influencing me. Raising his arm, he held out two cups. “Need creamers?”
“Oh, so he can have them, but not me?”
“Yes. He liked my cookies.”
“Don’t mind the siblings fighting. They both are clearly in need of a nap.” Thorne reached across the table to shake his hand. “Presuming you’re well-rested?”
Levander snorted. “Oh, God no, I don’t adjust well to new places. Or well, time zones, I guess.”
“Me either,” I muttered, resting my elbows on the table. “God, where’s the food?”
“Well… we still have one—”
“Eggs and steak. Who?” Standing at the head of the table, plates lined the waitress’s arm. Thorne raised his hand, and she settled the meal in front of him. “Thank you.”
Smiling, she dipped her chin. “French toast?”
“That’s me!” Oren grabbed it from her while shimmying, his excitement growing as his tongue darted out to swipe his bottom lip.
“Blinchiki?”
Raising my hand, I reached for the plate, but she placed it in front of me with a raised brow. “You like this? Yes?”
“Very much. My boyfriend…” Trailing off, I cleared my throat. “He used to make crepes often.”
Unprompted, the male standing at the counter glanced over his shoulder. Phthalo green irises greeted me, further emphasized by honey-blonde locks. Lifting an unamused brow, his gaze swept over me, lips curling with a tinge of disgust.
“Unruly American.” His accent was thick and heavily Russian.
The waitress, Irina, turned around briefly to roll her eyes at the guest. “He does not know different.” Turning back to me, her gaze softened. “You try them, but not crepes. Thicker. Fluffier. Better than French.”
Spouting off a statement in Russian, the man’s glare deepened, but his words were pointed at the woman serving us.
Oren snapped his attention toward the blonde-haired man. “What’s he saying? Is he being rude—”
Thorne shook his head. “No. He’s essentially telling her not to be insensitive toward the French.”
“O-Oh…”
She muttered one final statement, setting the last dish in front of Levander as our unprompted visitor left the café. “Savory Grenki.”
“Beautiful. Thanks, doll.”
As the waitress stepped away, a husky timbre broke through the clattering of unrolled utensils. “Got room for one more?”
I know that voice.
Thorne immediately stopped what he was doing. He slowly glanced over his shoulder in the direction the question had come from.
Beard fuller and longer, his sandy blonde hair was slicked back and parted to the right in an attempt to tame its growth. Brows equally bushy, his grin was wide, flashing those perfect goddamn teeth.
Olive green eyes filled with mirth, he kept his hands tucked into his pockets as if it would lessen the golden retriever energy he emitted.
Dressed in a plain white t-shirt, half covered with his thick fleece jacket, his attention was solely on Thorne.
Even if he tried to hide it, there was a nice sheen over his irises that even I knew was him battling his emotions.
Dog tags visible, he tucked them underneath his shirt as he quickly rattled off his order to the server. Pulling over a chair for him before she turned on her heels to the kitchen, Matt pushed it underneath the table, still standing.
“Well? Are you going to hug me?”
Thorne crawled over the top of Oren, who was readying himself to carve into his sugary breakfast. Missing his plate entirely, the knife scratched the epoxy resin. “Oh, come on.”
Ignoring his frustration, Thorne pushed himself to stand, throwing his arms around Matt. He slapped his back a handful of times, nuzzling his face into the crook of Matt’s neck.
“God, it’s good to see you.” Patting the space below Thorne’s shoulder, the two embraced for what felt like minutes. “You… You doing alright?”
“Better now,” Thorne answered with a gentle smile.
Munching, Oren gave a thumbs up with his free hand. “Mmphm. Mhm.”
Cutting into my non-crepe, I brought the bite to my lips, chewing completely before speaking.
“Well, gentlemen, I appreciate the merriment, but I would like to discuss next steps. I’m grateful for all of you, but every second counts, and I feel like even this is a luxury I shouldn’t be indulging in. ”
“Introductions?” Levander asked, his attention landing on Matt before returning to me. “Or is that too much to request, Simon?”
“Oh. Levander, this is Matt, another member of our squadron and Thorne’s best friend.” Oren pointed his fork at him. “He looks like a fuck boy, but he’s a golden retriever like me, and super well-versed with his words.”
Matt raised a brow. “Well-versed with my words?”
“Yes.” Oren nodded, stuffing his mouth with another forkful. “Mhm… you talk… like a poet.”
Thorne rested a hand on Matt’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “It’s a compliment, coming from the painter himself.”
“Wait.” Levander turned to the curly-haired blonde who was undoubtedly about to choke if he attempted to take another bite. “You paint?”
Exaggerating his nod, he imitated holding a paintbrush. At least taking the time to swallow, he smiled. “Yes. Decently, but nothing special. You should see Simon’s pottery, though. It’s fucking gorgeous.”
My cheeks flamed as I pulled at my turtleneck. What a wrong fucking choice to make. “I… It’s nothing.”
“I’m sure it’s great.” Levander smiled. “I’m only asking because I’m a painter myself. It’s nice to hear someone shares the same interests as me, considering I’ve never really experienced that before. I was worried the love for art was dying.”
My best friend clapped his hands once. “Oh my God, you have to come over, Levy. Wait, is Levy okay to say? Well… anyway—”
“Lev. You can call me Lev.”
“Okay. Lev, it is, but you can come paint in my studio! I typically do so naked, but that… that seems a bit excessive with company…”
Smacking my hand against my face, I rubbed my eyes. “Oh fucking hell. You do it naked, and you’re mad at me?”
“You stole the words from my mouth,” Thorne chimed in, motioning for Oren to take the inside of the booth so he could sit on the outside next to Matt. “You throw a tantrum over Simon seeing my cock, but you invite Levander over for a free show.”
Sipping his water, Lev shrugged. “I enjoy free shows.”
After Oren scooted over, Matt sat down, resting his chin on his fist. “Damn. Now you’re speaking my language. A free orgy, and I get covered in paint? Amazing.”
Lev lifted a hand, pointing his thumb at Thorne’s best friend. “I like him.”
“Oh, beautiful, I’m dashingly amazing,” Matt said with a wink, and I rolled my eyes at the charm billowing from him.
“Keep your cock in your pants, Matt,” I huffed.
“Mmm, quite hard when everyone is so attractive.” Grinning, he flipped me off, that playful nature almost causing the corners of my lips to lift.
“If you’re hard, I can help with that.” Levander gestured toward the bathroom with his chin, and the corner of his mouth curled, a dimple sinking into his cheek. “If you’re into that.”
“Oh God, save us now,” Thorne grumbled, cutting into his steak.
“Actually, he’s very into that,” Oren blurted. “You remember the trainee he fucked in the club—”
“I think he’s got the picture, buddy.” Matt rubbed his neck, and it almost looked like he was… Was he fucking blushing?
Intrigue plumed from Lev. “Top? Bottom? Verse? I’m curious.”
“All my lovers say I’m amazing at topping, but if the right… man came along, I think I wouldn’t mind being impaled.”
Thorne choked on his water, quickly grabbing his napkin from his lap to try to staunch the flow from his mouth. While he was struggling to maintain his composure, Oren burst out laughing, slapping his hand against the table, a piece of toast flying to hit my cheek.
“Oh my God! Oren!” He covered his mouth with his hand, his joy only growing louder as I wiped the wet residue from my face. “Ugh!”
“Well, now that we’ve determined your best friend would love to be railed from behind,” Lev stated so nonchalantly it forced me to lift my chin, “how about we start discussing our plans?”