Short Story: The Visit. Part nine

“Stop licking me,” Daniel grumbled, tossing around and bumping his forehead where the stitches held his wound together. “Fuck, ouch… Storm, get out!” The night had been relentless—some hours of sleep, but mostly an anxious, restless half-wakefulness, like something deep inside him refused to let him sink into true rest. He missed the sleeping pills of years ago, the ease of slipping into nothingness, back before sobriety.

He sighed, lifting the duvet to let Storm crawl under. “Sorry, big guy. It’s cold today, isn’t it?” Storm’s purring warmth pressed against him, calming his frazzled nerves after the horrid night. Daniel had resisted getting a pet when they moved to the Netherlands. “Alex, it’s enough I have to deal with your shit everywhere; now you want me to scoop it from a box?” He’d meant it, too. Until they’d gone to the rescue shelter—the smell alone, that rancid mix of wet fur, cat urine and disinfectant, was a nightmare. But then he saw him: a scruffy, tiny black fluff-ball huddled alone in the corner.

“That’s her!” Alex pointed out the playful, bouncing kitten they’d come to see. But Daniel barely glanced her way. Instead, he knelt on the floor (a floor he was sure was covered in piss), eyes locked on the fluff-ball. “Hey there, little guy,” he whispered. Storm’s eyes were sticky with kitten tears, vulnerable, and Daniel felt a wave of protectiveness, this instinct to shield and nurture. He picked Storm up, and the kitten’s tiny meow gave way to the lightest purr as he curled into Daniel’s chest.

“Look, he’s purring,” Daniel called to Alex, who sighed in that way only he could—part frustration, part admiration—and crouched down. “He’s cute, D, but we’re getting the girl,” Alex said, the edge in his voice softening as he took a photo of the scene, both of them knowing the decision had already been made.

Storm had clung to Daniel ever since—an ever-present shadow, walking alongside him, sleeping beside him. The name was meant to be ironic, as he grew to be a large, calm cat with no real storm in him. But the attachment became an annoyance to Alex, who once thought it endearing. “I swear to God, D, if that cat hisses at me one more time,” he’d complain, laughing it off but clearly jealous of how Storm always took Daniel’s side, marking his territory with low warning growls whenever Alex got too close.

During the first months of their separation, Alex would slam doors and shout, “I can’t wait to get rid of you and that devil!” And yet, despite it all, Storm remained glued to Daniel—a constant, comforting presence through the worst nights.

He checked his phone; it was still early, long before the alarm. Maybe he and Storm could steal a little more rest before the day began. With the memories of the past quieting, the loud, comforting purring beside him, Daniel finally felt that elusive sleep tugging him down, and just as he began to drift—*beep-beep-beep*. The alarm’s insistent rhythm broke the spell. “Ugh, that’s it, buddy,” he sighed. “Let’s get up.” And like every morning, they descended the stairs together in quiet unison.

***

“Muffins for breakfast, here you go,” Daniel grinned, crumbs already spilling from his mouth as he leaned over Storm’s bowl, miming dropping a piece of muffin in with the dry cat food. “Best blueberry-chocolate mix you’ve ever tasted, huh?” Storm’s ears perked, and for a second, he appeared almost interested, stretching his neck to sniff curiously. But as usual, the cat turned his nose away from the food, and Daniel couldn’t help but chuckle at his little game. “Suit yourself,” he said, lifting the muffin to his own mouth and biting into the supple centre. Dry around the edges but still dense and sweet, the muffins had just the right blend of bitter cocoa and tart berries—a mix that lingered on his tongue, comforting, indulgent.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, warm and rich, mingling with the heady scent of gardenias that sat in an oversized vase on the dining table. The muffins were past their prime—stale but comforting, their faint sweetness barely lingering in the air. But it was the flowers that dominated, their lush fragrance spreading elegance across the room, adding a touch of luxury to the morning stillness. Sunlight filtered through the windows, golden and crisp, casting angular shadows across the table and glinting off the silverware. It felt like a promising start—bright, hopeful, the kind of morning he could sink into. He let his fingers graze the rim of his coffee cup, relishing the warmth, the steam rising like a sigh against his face. “One more muffin,” he murmured with a smirk, “for Michal.”

The hallway creaked as Alex’s footsteps grew louder, his hurried movements like the crackle of static cutting through the morning calm. “Who’s puffing van?” Alex muttered as he stepped into the kitchen, still adjusting his collar. “Morning, boys.” He barely glanced at Storm, but even that small acknowledgment was a surprise; Storm had a way of demanding attention from everyone in his orbit. “Good morning indeed,” Daniel replied, watching as Storm elegantly hopped onto the chair beside him, settling down with that regal ease only cats possess.

“You’re in a good mood.” Alex’s voice came quick and distracted, hands flitting around as he grabbed things off the counter—keys, a notebook, his water bottle—all while half-zipping his coat. Daniel could smell the familiar cologne, a mix of bergamot and cedar, sharp but warm, lingering in the space between them. “I’m glad,” Alex added, though his eyes were more on the clock than on Daniel.

Daniel watched him dart around, his fingers tightening on the muffin’s wrapper. “She’ll be fine, Alex,” he said, nodding towards the frantic bottle-filling. “It’s not even 8 a.m. What’s so important?” He sipped his coffee deliberately, a practiced calm to balance out Alex’s frenzy, keeping his voice level, steady, all to set up the moment when he would finally tell him. “Don’t freak out, okay? I’m feeling great. Slept like a baby. This was a one-off.” He paused, eyes on Alex’s face as he gauged his reaction. “I’m going to see Michal today.”

The movement stopped. Alex stood still, fingers gripping the water bottle so tight the plastic crinkled. For a second, he didn’t speak; the silence in the kitchen filled with the hum of the fridge, the ticking clock, and the soft thrum of Storm’s purring. Then, a laugh—a small, disbelieving chuckle as Alex shook his head. “Like a baby? One-off?” He pressed his lips together, the incredulity flashing in his eyes. “D, come on. You don’t have to lie to me just to fuck your new boy toy.”

Daniel choked on his coffee, spluttering as the bitterness caught in his throat. “Alex, that’s not what I’m—” He tried to swallow the sharp retort, but Alex was already halfway through the door to the hallway.

“You never sleep like a baby. And look at you—you look like shit, D. I know you.” Alex’s voice came over his shoulder, half-angry, half-resigned, like he was used to this dance. “Just don’t lie to me. What’s really going on?” He checked his watch, his frustration carving lines into his forehead. “I’m terribly late.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” Daniel muttered, though he kept his tone light, teasing, trying to regain control of the narrative. He leaned back, letting his posture relax as he traced the edge of his coffee cup with a fingertip. “He’s not my boy toy. And I just... thought I’d tell you. You know, after everything.”

Alex paused by the hallway, running a hand through his hair. He sighed, his tone mellowing slightly, almost apologetic. “I know what you mean. I don’t mean it like that, D. I’m sure the kid is... fine. Have fun.” He disappeared briefly, the sounds of him putting on his shoes echoing back into the kitchen.

Daniel took another sip of coffee, letting the heat settle in his throat, hoping to steady the jittery excitement coursing through him. He was sure Alex would leave it there, but then—“Wait a minute,” Alex’s voice cut back through the room. “You’re not going to sleep there, are you? You haven’t even had the appointment with the psychiatrist yet.” The words were tight, loaded with frustration and concern, each one like a dart aimed at the fragile shield Daniel had built for himself.

Daniel forced a smile, widening his eyes into that exaggerated, pleading look he knew Alex couldn’t resist. “I don’t intend on staying there, Alex. Promise. And I love you for worrying, but try not to, okay?” The words came out sweetly, gently, but he could see Alex wasn’t buying it—not fully, anyway. He just shook his head, half-smirking as he grabbed his coat. “I see what you’re doing,” Alex said, the grin curling in despite his annoyance. “Blaming you for my lateness, by the way.”

“Tell Marie sorry for me, then,” Daniel called back, watching as Alex’s hurried footsteps faded down the hall and out the door. The silence that followed felt heavy, but not uncomfortable. Just... quieter.

Daniel glanced down at Storm, who had perched beside him all along, now blinking up with those large, watchful eyes. It was like he knew—knew how everything had gone better than expected, knew how much Daniel needed this, needed today to be exactly what it was. “Don’t worry, buddy,” Daniel said, scratching behind Storm’s ears. “It went much better than I thought.”

***

With his latest pair of Ray-Bans perched confidently on his nose and a tight, stretchy white button-up shirt clinging to every curve of his body, Daniel felt ready. He admired how the fabric hugged his belly, the way it strained just enough to tease without losing its polished look. He let his fingers tap against the side of his gut—just the right amount of jiggle—and laughed to himself. “Perfect,” he whispered, grinning at his reflection in the car mirror. “He won’t be able to resist this.”

The anticipation rippled through him, his nerves alight with the thrill of the day ahead. He tapped the screen of his brand-new black Audi Q4 45 e-tron quattro, punching in the address Michal had sent him. The car hummed to life, its electric engine whirring smoothly, almost silently—another thing Daniel liked about it. Sleek, modern, eco-conscious; it aligned with his beliefs, or so he’d convinced himself when Michal praised his “thoughtfulness for the environment” on their last date. Truthfully, he’d wanted the car because it was top-of-the-line, pure luxury, and one more reason to feel like he had it all. He let that thought settle, let it reassure him. A good person, a man with great taste, he mused, flashing a smirk at the mirror.

The autumn sun shone brightly as he hit the road, its light reflecting off the Audi's glossy black exterior. He adjusted his sunglasses and felt a rush of warmth as the rays filtered in through the windows, casting long beams across the dashboard. It would be a good day—he could feel it. The wounds on his face had healed some, still visible but less raw, and he clung to the memory of Michal’s text: bad boy. A title that made his skin tingle and his insecurities fade. “I’m going to be such a bad boy today, Michal. Just you wait,” he muttered, biting his lip as What You Need by The Weeknd pulsed through the car speakers. Each beat seemed to seep into him, filling his veins with that delicious hunger—for Michal, his body, his mouth, the feel of his skin beneath Daniel’s hands. Tonight, he’d let the music guide him; he’d let himself dive deep into that feeling, let go of the cracks and the bruises.

He pressed his foot harder on the pedal, the speed giving him a thrill, the city approaching with a fresh sense of promise. He couldn't let himself slip back into the whirlwind of rage and jealousy that had gripped him these past days; today was about control, about showing Michal the man he could be—someone irresistible, powerful, and worth every second of his attention. He needed Michal to see that, needed to win back whatever parts of him felt like they’d slipped away since their last meeting.

Amsterdam’s skyline began to emerge in the distance, gilded in golden light. The trees, their leaves in mid-turn to fiery hues, lined the roads like sentinels of the season, heralding a new chapter, a new chance. He glanced around at the brick townhouses with their grand gables, the way the city’s iconic canals twisted like silver ribbons beneath arched bridges. It struck him, for the first time in a long while, how beautiful it all was. Normally, Amsterdam felt like an obligation—something to be visited, not savoured. But today, under the autumn sun, the city glowed with an energy and elegance that he couldn’t deny, its liveliness pulling him in, making him see it the way he hoped Michal would see him.

The excitement, the thrill of the city, was in stark contrast to The Hague, with its calm, structured beauty and subdued elegance—a place more aligned with Daniel’s taste. But today, the frenetic charm of Amsterdam felt right; it matched the current of adrenaline running through him. It felt alive, and so did he.

As he turned the corner, he caught sight of Michal, standing right where he said he'd be. Backpack slung over his shoulder, eyes fixed upward as if reading some secret written in the clouds. The car came to a halt, and for a moment, the world held its breath.

***

The tires squealed softly against the pavement, snapping Michal back into the moment—the flash of Daniel's car, sleek and impossibly glossy under the sunlight, and those eyes meeting his through the windshield. The morning was bright, the kind that promised warmth but betrayed it with a crisp chill. Everything felt delicate, like a fine porcelain figure balanced on the edge of a table. All it would take was one misstep, and it would fall.

Michal’s breath caught as Daniel stepped out of the car, his movements deliberate, brimming with a confidence that bordered on swagger. The sun hit his crisp white shirt just right, accentuating the tight stretch across his belly, the fabric melding to him like a second skin. And as Daniel approached, there he was, lifting the corners of his mouth—not quite reaching his eyes, but close enough to dazzle. Michal could feel his own pulse quicken as Daniel closed the distance, pulling him in for a hug, his scent washing over him: Aqua Di Gio, warm and fresh, layered with something undeniably expensive.

The pressure of Daniel’s belly pressed against Michal, solid, soft and unapologetic, and he could feel the luxurious smoothness of the shirt beneath his fingers. Daniel held him close, like he belonged there, like this was where he was always meant to be. And that was the thing about him—the way he made holding it all together look effortless, as if the world wouldn’t dare fall apart in his presence. Maybe that’s why Michal found him so intoxicating, why he couldn’t stay away—because those tiny cracks in Daniel’s facade, hidden just beneath the surface, only made Michal want to lean in closer, to see how deep they truly went.

He leaned in to kiss Daniel but stopped himself for a moment. Daniel had removed his sunglasses, and something in those blue eyes caught Michal’s attention—a flicker of excitement tinged with exhaustion. There was a rawness there, like a soldier returning from war, trying to appear strong while the battle still raged within. Gently, Michal cupped Daniel's face in his hands, feeling the roughness of stubble beneath his palms. “Are you okay, mister?” he whispered, his voice soft, the words hanging in the space between them. And when Daniel kissed him—no answer, just the crush of lips meeting lips—Michal knew. It was all the answer he needed.

***

The car’s interior enveloped Michal like a world apart. The seats were a buttery leather, the kind that smelled as luxurious as it felt, and the faint scent of the fragrance Daniel wore mixed with something distinctly him—filled the air. The electric car’s engine made barely a sound, a quiet hum as they glided over the streets, and Michal found himself sinking into the comfort. It was easy to get used to this kind of life, a life where everything felt gentler, more elegant, and just a little bit unreal. He wondered if Daniel felt this way too or if this kind of opulence was simply background noise to him—a stage set for the performance of life.

“So good to see you,” Daniel said, his voice cutting through Michal’s thoughts as he placed a warm hand on his thigh. The touch weakened him, a warmth that spread from his leg to the rest of his body. Michal forced himself to stay focused. “Where did you say you wanted to take me again?” he asked, fighting the pull of that hand and the comfort it brought.

“The Noordermarkt, in the Jordaan district,” Daniel replied, glancing over with a quick smile and a wink. “I think you’ll like it.”

“How’s Amsterdam been so far?” Daniel continued, and Michal knew that wasn’t the real question. What Daniel really wanted to ask hung between them—Have you met anyone else? Have you thought of me?

“It’s been quite lovely, actually. I like it... very beautiful,” Michal said, his hand trailing up to Daniel’s belly, feeling the tautness of the fabric stretching over it. And then, as if to flip the script back into his control, “What about you, big guy? What really happened?” His eyes bore into Daniel’s, challenging, searching.

Daniel tensed at the question, his muscles clenching beneath Michal’s touch. He’d wanted this—to catch him off guard, to see how he’d react—but a part of him felt the risk. “I just had a little incident, nothing serious,” Daniel’s voice was steady but defensive. “I told you, I’m all good... I just, yeah, it’s complicated.” There was more there, Michal could sense it—the uncertainty, the guardedness—but he decided to let it rest. For now.

“If you say so,” Michal replied, his voice playful, giving Daniel a look that was both teasing and knowing. Daniel forced a smile, the unease still lingering like an aftertaste. “I say so. We’re here,” he said, eyes darting around as he scanned for a parking spot. Michal withdrew his hand, the moment broken, and sighed inwardly.

Today might be harder than I thought.

***

When they finally stepped out of the car, Michal felt like he was stepping into a different world. The Jordaan neighbourhood sprawled out before them—a labyrinth of narrow, cobblestoned streets that curved around canals like veins around a heart. Ivy trailed down the facades of brick buildings, their vibrant green a striking contrast to the crisp blue sky above. The windows of the gabled houses glittered in the morning light, each one offering glimpses of life within—flickers of polished wood floors, artfully arranged plants, or a vase of flowers catching the sun.

Around them, the neighbourhood buzzed with life. There were locals cycling past with baskets full of fresh bread, tourists slowly ambling and snapping photos, and the smell of freshly baked goods wafting from the café on the corner, mingling with the earthy aroma of the canals. Michal breathed it in, trying to memorize everything—the golden hue of the light, the play of shadows over the water, the low-toned chatter of conversations that blended into a soundtrack for the city.

“Should we ask someone to take a picture of us here? With this canal behind us?” Michal asked, his phone already in his hand, always ready to capture a moment.

“Sure, I guess,” Daniel shrugged, scanning the street before walking confidently up to two young women. They were clearly tourists—their flashy clothes and wide-eyed curiosity giving them away instantly. “Smile, you are so adorable,” one of them said, a brunette with a thick American accent, grinning as she held the phone. “I wish my dad would take me on trips,” she added, glancing between them.

Michal’s face flushed cherry, and he instinctively turned to Daniel. “Oh, he’s—” But before the words could spill out, Daniel’s hand squeezed his tightly, and he cut in smoothly, “That’s sweet, thanks, ladies. Enjoy Amsterdam.” He led Michal away, hand in hand, leaving the two girls giggling behind them.

Michal felt laughter bubbling up in his chest, barely able to hold it back. “I’m sorry, Daniel, but that was funny. You have to admit that,” he teased, still grinning. He could see how the comment had bruised Daniel’s ego, the way his jaw tensed and his eyes darted downward, like a wound reopened.

“Yes, hilarious,” Daniel muttered, his voice low and hard to read—somewhere between playfulness and wounded pride. But Michal just leaned closer, brushing his lips against Daniel’s ear. “I have the hottest daddy,” he whispered, letting the words melt between them.

It worked. He could see Daniel’s scowl break, the tension draining away as a slow smile crept onto his face. He pulled Michal in closer, kissing him deeply, but laughing against his lips. “You want daddy to treat you to lunch now?”

***

As they were seated for lunch, the terrace at Café de Jaren spread out around them like a hidden oasis. The tables were set close to the edge of the canal, offering a perfect view of the boats passing lazily by and the sunlight dancing on the water’s surface. There was a breeze, cool but not biting, carrying with it the scent of freshly baked bread from the kitchen and the faintest hint of river air. Planters brimming with lavender and herbs lined the terrace, their greenery spilling over the sides, giving the place a sense of wild elegance.

“I love this place,” Michal said, taking it all in. “It’s so special.” He couldn't help but think how much nicer this meal would be than the more frugal ones he’d had the past few days.

“I hoped you would like it. I love this terrace... and I know how much you like the canals,” Daniel replied, his eyes fixed on Michal with an intensity that made him blush. When Daniel looked at him like that—like he was the only person who mattered—it made everything else fade away. There was something magnetic about him, something ruggedly handsome in the way he carried himself, the way his shirt stretched over his broad shoulders and chest. He seemed larger than life, a man who took up space unapologetically, who knew exactly how to make the world bend to his desires. And yet, in moments like this, he was just... soft. Playful. Perfect.

Michal let his eyes linger on Daniel as he opened the menu. It felt heavy in his hands, printed on thick paper, and smelled faintly of spice and ink. “It’s not in English?” he asked, pretending to be surprised as he scooted closer, his arm brushing against Daniel’s.

Daniel smirked and leaned in. “Don’t worry, I’ll translate. I promise you won’t go hungry,” he said, and as he began to explain the dishes, Michal could hear the passion in his voice. It was like he came alive, the words spilling out with the kind of enthusiasm he’d never shown for anything else. He spoke about each dish as if he were describing an art piece—the balance of flavours, the tenderness of the meat, the perfect way the soup should be seasoned. It was intoxicating to watch, this man who was so worldly, who seemed to know every ingredient, every origin of the food that touched his lips.

“So, you think we should both do the soup first then?” Michal teased, trying to match Daniel’s seriousness, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I can’t eat as much as you, but you can just finish mine if you want,” he added, the words playful, his smile sly.

“You’ll love it. Trust me,” Daniel said, brushing off the tease but grinning as he spoke. “And you’re sure about the green curry? It’s vegan, you know,” he added with a mock frown, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend the concept of a meal without meat.

“Yes, I love vegan food,” Michal laughed, leaning back in his chair. He watched Daniel’s face, saw the way he furrowed his brow with care, like every detail had to be just right. It felt good, knowing Daniel was invested in making sure everything was perfect for him.

When the food arrived, it looked like it belonged in a magazine spread. The tomato soup was a deep, velvety red, topped with a swirl of cream and served with a side of bread that was still warm, its crust crackling beneath his fingers. Michal took his first bite, and the flavours seemed to burst open in his mouth—sweet, tangy, comforting in a way he hadn’t expected. “To die for,” he murmured, finishing every last drop, tearing into the bread like it was the only thing that existed.

And then there was Daniel. Watching him eat was like watching a performance, every movement deliberate, sensual. He ordered more bread on the side, spread it thickly with butter, and bit into it with the kind of pleasure that was almost indecent. Michal couldn’t help but stare, his eyes drawn to the way Daniel’s lips glistened with pepper sauce as he devoured his steak. He imagined himself leaning over the table, kissing that taste off his mouth, running his fingers over Daniel’s belly—solid and full and his. And God, the way Daniel would look at him, the way he would respond... it sent shivers down Michal’s spine, made him shift in his seat as desire coiled tight between his legs.

He took a sip of wine to steady himself, the glass catching the light in delicate ruby tones, each taste opening up like a new experience—velvety, rich, a hint of spice. It was unlike anything he’d had before, and the more he drank, the rosier everything seemed. Daniel’s laugh became warmer, the light in his eyes brighter, and suddenly, the world felt softer, like a haze of gold had settled over them both. Maybe these wealthy people are onto something with the wine, Michal thought, resolving then and there that he’d never go back to the cheapest bottles. It was too good, too luxurious, and now that he’d had a taste of this life, he didn’t want to let it go.

***

It felt almost too good to be true, like a fragile dream that could burst if he thought about it too hard. Michal walked close to Daniel, holding his arm as they made their way through the narrow, cobblestoned streets of Amsterdam. The wine had warmed him, leaving his skin buzzing, the world slightly softened around the edges. Each time Daniel brushed against him, it sent a jolt of pleasure through his body, but he kept trying to shake the darker thoughts from his head—memories that lurked at the edges, waiting to drag him back down. He wanted this to be perfect. He needed this to be perfect.

“I’m so happy,” Michal said, stopping in the middle of the street and tugging Daniel closer, forcing him to stop too. “I mean it, I really am. This is so nice, you are so dreamy, mister.” He kissed Daniel’s cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his beard, and smiled at the way Daniel’s face lit up, like a kid being praised for a drawing.

“Well, that’s quite the thank you for a little lunch,” Daniel replied, his voice warm, full of that familiar playful confidence. He reached around and squeezed Michal’s butt, making him jump. “I’ll have to remember to take you out more often,” he added, his eyes twinkling with mischief. But Michal could feel something more behind the words—a need for validation, for reassurance that Michal would stay right there, close to him.

“Yes, I’m quite big on lunches, actually,” Michal teased, laughing as he skipped across the street to a store window. He needed to break the tension, to keep everything light. “These tote bags are so cool,” he said, pointing at some plain ribbed bags in a muted beige, looking over his shoulder to see if Daniel was following.

Daniel walked up, hands in his pockets. “You mean those plain ones with the ribbing? Like corduroy?”

“Corduroy?” Michal’s laugh bubbled up before he could stop it. “What is this corduroy word? You mean Manchester? Are you talking Icelandic now?” He grinned, loving the way Daniel looked genuinely baffled, his brows knitting together.

“No… I mean, the fabric is called corduroy in English, not like the city. What do you mean, Manchester?” Daniel’s confusion was almost endearing, the way his face twisted as he tried to make sense of the words. Michal loved seeing him flustered and couldn’t help but press on.

“Well, in Czech, we call it manšestr—like the city. What’s the Icelandic word then?” Michal’s voice was teasing, playful, and he could see Daniel’s struggle to keep up.

“I don’t know,” Daniel admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s not corduroy… but I can’t think of it. I should know this. God, this is annoying.” He frowned, staring at the bags as if they were some unsolvable riddle.

Michal couldn’t help but soften, leaning in to press his face against Daniel’s chest, wrapping his arms around him in a quick hug. “I don’t mean to be so annoying,” he whispered, tilting his head up to meet Daniel’s eyes. “Now where’s this surprise you promised?”

He felt Daniel’s body relax beneath his touch, the tension melting away. “I know you don’t like when I’m annoying, or tease you,” Michal added, letting his voice drop to a flirtatious murmur. “I can’t wait for daddy to spank his little brat at the hotel, though.” He heard Daniel clear his throat, an embarrassed laugh breaking through, and was relieved when Daniel seemed to drop the topic altogether.

“We’re almost there,” Daniel said, his voice a little husky, but still holding that serious edge.

Michal couldn’t believe it when they finally arrived at the small dock where the boat waited for them. A sleek, white motorboat bobbed gently in the water, ropes tied to the wooden posts on either side, its polished sides gleaming under the late afternoon sun. “I can’t believe it. This is crazy, Daniel,” Michal breathed, trying to contain his excitement in front of the man renting the boat. He was older, stern-faced, and spoke only in Dutch, his tone brusque as he handed over forms to Daniel. Michal sat on the bench inside the boat, his fingers trailing over the worn, sun-warmed wood, while the man’s voice rattled on in fast, choppy syllables. It was only then that he realized he’d never actually heard Daniel speak Dutch before.

It felt strange, hearing him speak in that harsh, guttural language, so different from his smooth Icelandic or the melodic way he spoke English. There was a charm to it, though—a confidence in the way Daniel handled himself, a command of the situation that left Michal sitting back, admiring him. It thrilled Michal to see Daniel like this—so self-assured, so competent. The man finished speaking, nodded to them both, and then stepped off the boat, leaving them alone in the quiet of the canal.

Daniel turned to Michal, eyes softening as he switched back to English. “Okay, so the rules,” he started, keeping his voice light but steady. He moved carefully, untying the boat from the dock. “We’ll go slow. Just, you know, don’t lean too far over, don’t touch the engine, and… just enjoy yourself, okay?”

Michal heard the restraint in his voice, felt that familiar prick of frustration. “Okay, I won’t touch anything then,” he said, his words sharper than he intended. But before Daniel could respond, he added quickly, “I mean, thank you, daddy. I’ll respect the rules. I love the boat.” He tried to force a playful smirk, but the joke didn’t land as he’d hoped; it felt like it skimmed right off the surface of the tension between them.

Daniel paused, searching Michal’s face as if unsure whether to push or let go. And then, without another word, he turned back to the engine, adjusting the throttle. The boat jerked forward, and suddenly, they were gliding through the canal, the water parting beneath them in gentle ripples.

As the boat cruised through the narrow waterways, Michal felt Daniel’s arm wrap around him, pulling him closer, and he rested his head against Daniel’s shoulder. “Isn’t this fun?” Daniel whispered, his voice rumbling through his chest. And it was—it was fun, and peaceful, and everything Michal wanted to be right then. He could see the city drifting by in shades of terracotta and gold, the bridges arching over the canal like welcoming arms, and the reflection of the leaves rippling on the water’s surface. For a moment, it felt perfect.

He wanted to thank Daniel—for the boat, for this day, for taking time off work just to be with him. And yet, just as he opened his mouth to speak, a strange rush of nausea washed over him, forcing the words back down. He shifted, trying to ignore it, but it was relentless—a dizziness that seemed to rise from the pit of his stomach, creeping into his throat. “Will we stop at some point?” he managed to ask, the words thick on his tongue. “I think I might be a little seasick.”

Daniel turned quickly, eyes wide with concern. “You serious?” He slowed the boat, searching Michal’s face. “Okay, I’ll take us back right away. Don’t worry. Just look straight ahead and breathe, okay?”

But it was too late. Michal felt the bile rising, hot and sour in his throat, and before he could stop himself, he stumbled to the side of the boat. The world tilted, and he vomited over the edge, the bright red of the tomato soup and curry spilling into the dark canal, splattering as it hit the water. The sound of it—the retching, the splash—was violent, and all Michal could hear between each heave was Daniel’s voice, trying to calm him. “Hang tight, almost there,” he called, the boat picking up speed, the water rushing past them.

Michal could feel the tears streaming down his face, mingling with the mess of it all, and all he could think was how disgusting he must look, how stupid, how everything had just gone so horribly wrong. He wanted to disappear, to fall through the floor of the boat and never have to see Daniel’s face again. “Sorry,” he choked out between sobs, clutching the side of the boat like it was the only thing keeping him from being swallowed up by shame.

***

The suite at The Dylan Amsterdam was, in a word, stunning. The kind of place that enveloped you in quiet luxury, where everything—from the carefully arranged fresh flowers on the marble table to the soft velvet upholstery of the armchairs—felt curated, elegant, and undeniably expensive. The soft lighting cast a warm glow across the room, reflecting off the polished dark wood floors and highlighting the sleek, modern lines of the furniture. The large windows framed the city beyond, with glimpses of the canal, but the room felt like a world apart, a sanctuary hidden away from the chaos of the day.

They had checked in quickly, the staff recognizing Daniel’s name, as if it was a secret password that smoothed every process. Michal had been silent since the boat, his face pale and his eyes downcast. The apology had come quietly, like a whisper, as he lifted his suitcase and made a beeline for the bathroom, barely glancing at the room itself. “Sorry,” he’d mumbled, the word trailing behind him like a fading shadow as the door closed, leaving Daniel alone.

He sighed, letting the silence settle around him. He hadn’t minded how the day had gone—truthfully, he was too tired to explore Amsterdam. It was all for show, really, for Michal’s benefit, a way to impress him, to make the day memorable. And he supposed he had succeeded in that; the way Michal’s eyes had sparkled at lunch, the way he’d beamed when they stepped onto the boat. It had been worth it just for those moments of pure delight on his face.

Daniel slumped into the king-sized bed, the sheets cool and inviting against his body. He unbuttoned his shirt, the fabric parting to reveal his large round belly, and he let out a deep breath as he tugged his pants open, loosening the waistband. He wanted to tell Michal it was fine, that the day had been perfect in its own way. But Michal’s silence had stung; it felt like rejection, even if Daniel knew it wasn’t meant that way. He wasn’t used to not knowing what to do, and the effort to reassure someone else felt like too much right now. He pulled out his phone, scrolling mindlessly, letting his mind wander. It was a relief to be out of the sun, to have no more expectations for the day. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, getting to just relax here in this luxury, to not have to prove anything to anyone for a while.

But as he lay there, staring up at the minimalist light fixture hanging from the ceiling, a small voice whispered at the back of his mind—maybe he’s too young for this, for you. He pushed the thought away, huffing softly as he shifted, making himself more comfortable, one arm resting across his belly.

***

The soft lighting of the suite cast a warm, golden hue over the space, catching the steam that still lingered around Michal as he stepped out of the bathroom. The glow caressed his skin, illuminating every curve, every muscle, accentuating the way the tight grey tank clung to his torso and the sweatpants framed his thighs and hips. For a moment, it felt like the world stopped—an image etched into Daniel’s mind that he would never forget. The fresh scent of soap and faint hints of cologne mixed with the crisp, cool air of the room, heightening every sensation between them.

Michal’s eyes moved over Daniel, soaking him in. The way he sprawled out on the bed, shirt half-open, pants unbuttoned—everything about him was a blend of strength and vulnerability, like a man trying to hold onto his own world but too tired to keep the mask on. Daniel felt that gaze travel over his exposed body, could see the way Michal’s thoughts flitted across his face—desire, hesitation, and something deeper, something that almost seemed like awe.

When Daniel finally spoke, his voice was soft, edged with fatigue but laced with care. “Feeling better?”

Michal nodded, his expression unreadable, but his eyes… they said everything. There was an ache there, a question, a need that mirrored Daniel’s own. When Michal turned away, trying to hide his face, Daniel rose from the bed, moving towards him without a second thought. He placed his hands on Michal’s shoulders, trying to pull him back to earth, to centre him. “You’re safe with me… you don’t have to hide,” Daniel whispered, his voice filled with a gentleness he rarely found for himself. But as soon as the words left his lips, he could feel Michal’s body tense beneath his touch.

“Stop it… Daniel, stop it, please. I can’t handle this,” Michal said, his voice breaking as he struggled to keep control, his back still turned to Daniel. Daniel felt the resistance, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in, wrapping his arms around Michal, pressing his body against him, feeling the heat and tension radiating off him.

“I know it’s hard. Trust me, I know,” Daniel’s voice was low, soothing, as he nuzzled Michal’s neck, placing soft, slow kisses along the damp skin. “But you don’t have to be anyone else around me. I see you, and… I admire it, you know? I wish I could be as open as you are.”

Daniel felt Michal’s resistance crumble. He turned around, face flushed and wet with tears that spilled freely down his cheeks. And as much as Daniel wanted to tell him not to cry, he knew better—knew that this was Michal’s truth spilling out, raw and unfiltered. “You’re so beautiful,” Daniel murmured, his words carrying both admiration and yearning.

“I don’t want to be like this,” Michal choked out between sobs, collapsing into Daniel’s arms, his tears soaking the collar of Daniel’s shirt. “I ruin everything… it’s a curse… I’m so sorry for everything.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” Daniel whispered back, holding Michal as close as he could, feeling the trembling of his body, the shuddering breaths against his chest. “I’m right here. Just be yourself.”

And that was all it took. Michal pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting Daniel’s before closing the space between them, their lips crashing together in a kiss that was slow, deep, and consuming. It was like their bodies knew what to do without any words, falling into a rhythm that felt natural and intense. Michal’s hands moved quickly, almost desperate, as he peeled Daniel’s shirt off, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. The pants followed, and then Daniel was on the bed again, the weight of his body sinking into the soft sheets,

For a moment, Michal hovered there, standing above him, staring down at him, and Daniel saw it all—saw Michal laid bare, no walls, no barriers. It took his breath away. He watched as Michal pulled his own tank top off, the fabric revealing inch by inch of smooth, tight skin, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. He turned, peeling off his sweatpants, the muscles in his back flexing as he bent down, revealing the round, perfect shape of his ass. Daniel swallowed hard, a deep, audible gulp, as his eyes trailed over every inch of Michal’s naked body.

And then Michal turned back, a new fire in his eyes—a hunger that mirrored Daniel’s own. He crawled up over Daniel, trailing kisses from the soft curve of his belly, up across his chest, and murmured words between each kiss, each bite. “You’re the beautiful one,” Michal whispered, his lips ghosting over Daniel’s skin. “You drive everyone crazy… and I get it now,” he added, and when he bit Daniel’s nipple, a gasp left Daniel’s lips, pleasure and pain mixing into one sensation. “It’s all… because of you.”

The words, the touch, the intensity of it all was too much, and Daniel felt himself unravelling. He grabbed Michal’s face, kissing him with a desperate need, like he wanted to pour everything he felt into that single kiss. He wanted to consume him, to be consumed by him, to feel everything they had between them explode in that one moment. His hands roamed over Michal’s body, feeling the tension in his muscles, the heat of his skin, and he couldn’t help but whisper, “You don’t know what you’re doing to me right now… how much I want you.”

“Show me,” Michal whispered back, his voice trembling but sure, and that was all Daniel needed to hear.

He flipped them over, using his weight to pin Michal down into the mattress, and the sound of Michal’s moan, the way his body arched up to meet his, it sent shivers through Daniel. He was lost in the heat of the moment, in the taste of Michal’s skin, the way his body writhed and responded to every touch, every kiss. He trailed his mouth down Michal’s neck, nipping and biting, tasting the salt and sweat of his skin, and Michal’s fingers moved over Daniel’s belly, feeling the soft flesh against the hard muscle beneath, tracing the lines of his sides.

It wasn’t gentle; it was messy, all-consuming. And when Michal came from the friction of their bodies moving together, his breathless moans muffled by Daniel’s kisses, Daniel felt the wet heat between their bodies, the rawness of it, and it only drove him wilder. He kept moving, kept kissing Michal, every touch deepening the need between them, every sound pulling them closer together.

Michal’s body was slick, open, and when he rolled over, he gasped, “Pull them off—your briefs,” arching his back, reaching behind to grab Daniel’s head, turning his neck, pulling him back into another desperate kiss. And when Daniel felt the wet heat of Michal’s hole beneath him, he couldn’t help but groan, “You planned this…,” he said with a low, teasing growl, before finally pushing inside him, filling him completely.

Michal’s moan was guttural, his body tensing before melting into Daniel’s, and as Daniel thrust into him, Michal’s hand gripped the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss so fierce it felt like they were trying to consume each other. Every movement was electric, every touch searing into Daniel’s mind. He could feel himself coming undone, feel Michal’s body pulling him in deeper, tighter, until he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a deep, shuddering groan, he came, spilling deep inside Michal, his entire body trembling with the force of it.

Michal kept kissing him, his moans blending into sighs as Daniel finally pulled out, their bodies separating but only barely. Daniel turned Michal around quickly, needing to feel him against him, needing to hold him, and they collapsed into each other, tangled up in the sheets, their limbs heavy and tired but full of something undeniable.

“I need you,” Daniel whispered, his voice hoarse, raw with emotion. “I just… do.”

Michal didn’t respond with words; instead, he nuzzled into Daniel’s neck, their breathing falling into sync as the world around them seemed to quiet down, leaving just the two of them—raw, real, and completely consumed by the love and chaos they shared.

***

The afternoon light seeped into the suite like liquid gold, filling every corner with a languid warmth that clung to their bare skin. Daniel lay sprawled on the bed, the plush duvet half over his body, his breathing steady and deep as the haze of sleep held him in its gentle grip. The vintage looking yet, modern ceiling fan rotated lazily, stirring the air just enough to cool the warmth between them but not enough to shift the lingering scent of sex and the fresh tang of Michal’s shampoo, which now clung to Daniel’s skin.

Michal was draped over him, doing the other half of the duvets work, his head nestled into the softest part of Daniel’s belly, fingers trailing slow, thoughtful patterns along the undercurve, where the skin felt tender and inviting. He buried his face deeper, his breath warm and damp against the smooth skin, as if trying to disappear into the expanse of Daniel’s body. The room felt wrapped in that same intimacy—like the outside world had faded away, leaving just the two of them floating in this pocket of time.

“Mmm, that’s so nice,” Daniel murmured, his voice heavy with sleep, a deep, rumbling growl of contentment that vibrated in Michal’s ears. His eyes stayed closed as he spoke, savouring the soft strokes of Michal’s hands, the feel of his lips grazing over his chest. Michal’s hair, still fresh from the shower, but smelling sweatier, brushed against Daniel’s skin like silk, and Daniel felt the soothing, grounding presence of him like an anchor.

“You fell asleep,” Michal said softly, the intimacy of his voice sending shivers through Daniel. “I didn’t want to wake you. You know… you speak a lot in your sleep.” There was a tenderness in his voice, but also a curiosity—like he’d been keeping secrets of his own, holding something back while Daniel lay vulnerable beneath him.

“Oh yeah? What was I saying?” Daniel asked, trying to keep his voice casual, but there was an edge of anxiety there, a sense that he was already running through possibilities in his mind. Had he said something that could crack open parts of him he wasn’t ready to share?

Michal’s fingers traced the curve of Daniel’s underbelly, pausing as if savouring the feel of the silky skin there. “Mostly in Icelandic,” he answered, looking up from Daniel’s chest, his eyes half-closed, dreamy. “You sounded like you were scared. I just held you, kissed your chest… I think it helped.”

Daniel’s chest tightened with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. He loved how tender Michal could be, how raw and open. It felt like they’d reached a new depth with each other, like an invisible barrier had fallen. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice sincere but laced with caution. He felt like he was dancing on a line between opening up and keeping his guard. “I have bad dreams sometimes.”

“What are they about?” Michal’s voice was soft, yet probing, like he was trying to reach a place deep inside Daniel that hadn’t been touched before. “I mean… do you remember?”

The question hung in the air, and Daniel hesitated. “It’s mostly stuff from Iceland,” he said finally, choosing each word with care. “I do remember them… most of them.” He could feel Michal’s body shift slightly, the curiosity lighting up in his eyes. The feeling of being known, of being seen, sent a thrill through Daniel—a mix of fear and comfort.

“Tell me about Iceland,” Michal said, pulling himself closer, resting his chin on Daniel’s chest, looking up at him. “How was it for you there? You were famous or something?”

Daniel felt a jolt of anxiety but forced himself to meet Michal’s gaze, trying to hide the mix of emotions that flared up at the mention of Iceland. “I had a good life there, for the most part.” His voice wavered slightly as he spoke, and he could sense Michal’s unwavering attention. He pulled Michal up with him as he sat up, trying to keep the moment light, even though the weight of the conversation hung between them. “I kind of was, yes… I mean, it was ages ago. I hardly think about it anymore.” The words felt like a lie even as they left his mouth, but then he softened, adding, “It’s complicated, I guess.”

Michal kissed him warmly on the lips, the touch almost reverent, and Daniel felt a wave of relief wash over him. “I can see why you were famous,” Michal said with a teasing beam, trailing kisses down his chest again. “There’s just… something about you. I’ve always wanted to go there, you know.”

Daniel raised his eyebrow playfully, surprised but pleased. “Yeah? I’d love to show you around someday. Do you know anything about Iceland?”

Michal’s look shifted, his eyes darkening slightly. “I heard it’s beautiful,” he said. “But… it’s really dark. It’s not a good place for foreigners.”

The words cut through the warmth between them like a cold gust of wind. Daniel frowned slightly, trying to make sense of what Michal was saying. “Who on earth told you that?” he asked, the defensiveness in his voice betraying the swell of pride he felt for his homeland. “Most people I know say Iceland is one of the most welcoming places—”

“My mother told me,” Michal cut him off, his voice a little quieter, almost distant. “She thought the people were mean to her.”

There was a silence, a thickness that filled the space between them. Daniel’s fingers hesitated, mid-caress, as he processed Michal’s words. “I’m… I’m sorry to hear that,” he said slowly, not quite sure what to say. “I’m sure she just… had a bad experience. You know, maybe she should go again, give it another chance—”

“She can’t,” Michal interrupted, his voice flat, all traces of playfulness gone. “She died. She can’t go back.”

There it was—the rawness, the vulnerability, the truth that seemed to hang between them like a dark cloud. Daniel felt the guilt rise up in him, a heavy weight settling on his chest. “Michal… I’m so sorry,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “I had no idea.”

Michal looked away, his fingers trailing over Daniel’s nipple absently, circling it as if lost in thought. “It’s okay,” he said, though there was a tremor in his voice, a crack that Daniel could hear but didn’t know how to fix. “It’s silly, but… thank you for saying sorry. It means something to me.”

Daniel’s heart swelled, feeling the depth of that moment, the way Michal’s pain seemed to seep into his own. He reached up and kissed Michal’s forehead, feeling the soft hair brush against his lips, the warmth of Michal’s skin. “I’m glad,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to ramble on. I just… want to know you.”

“Let’s not talk about it now,” Michal said, his voice barely a murmur as he shifted focus back to Daniel’s body, redirecting the energy to something lighter, more playful. “It’s… 6:20,” he added, pinching Daniel’s nipple just a little too hard.

“Ouch!” Daniel winced, half-laughing. “You trying to get back at me for something?”

“Maybe,” Michal teased, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes, the playful spark returning like armour. Daniel watched him for a moment, considering, then asked, “Do you want to us to go somewhere?”

Michal shook his head slightly, curling his lips up. “Nah. Why?”

Daniel studied his face, the way Michal’s eyes danced between mischief and something deeper, something unreadable. The unpredictability was intoxicating, like he could never be pinned down, never fully known. “No,” Daniel said finally, his voice lowering to a murmur. “No, I just wanted to know. I…”

But his words trailed off into a moan as Michal’s mouth descended over his nipple, licking and sucking, the wet heat sending shivers across Daniel’s skin. “Uh, fuck, that’s so hot,” Daniel gasped, his body responding immediately, every nerve electrified by the sensation.

Michal didn’t let up. His teeth grazed over Daniel’s nipple, biting gently before pulling back, and then, with a flick of his tongue, he swallowed it into his mouth, his tongue rolling over the sensitive skin. He felt Daniel’s body tremble beneath him, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with every touch, every movement.

And then, with a slow, deliberate pull, Michal let the nipple go, watching as it bounced back, leaving Daniel gasping, his skin covered in goosebumps. It was strange, almost teasing, and yet so deeply intimate that Daniel felt his senses heighten, every touch of Michal’s mouth, his hands, sending sparks across his body. A soft laugh escaped Daniel’s lips, almost involuntary, breaking the intensity, and he let himself sink back into the sheets, the moment resting between them like a shared secret. Then his stomach growled—low and hungry, startling them both into a smile.

“We need to get some more food in you,” Michal said, grinning as he traced the outline of Daniel’s belly.

***

“Yes, that’s all—the fries, the snacks, espresso, three Fantas, bottle of white, and a bucket of ice,” Daniel’s voice oozed with familiarity over the phone, lounging in the swivel chair by the desk, his naked skin against the cool leather. “And please thank Herman for making the exception about the housekeeping.” He spun around slightly, grinning as he watched Michal walk naked from the bed to the bathroom. “Food’s coming soon. I’ll jump in the shower with you,” he added, getting up and following Michal, who had already turned the water on. The sound of the spray filled the room as they kissed while waiting for the water to heat up.

“There’s no time for anything in the shower, mister,” Michal said, pulling away and raising an eyebrow. “I’m not going to answer the door with you all soaped up.”

Daniel laughed, running his fingers through Michal’s damp hair. “Sir, yes sir. I know, don’t worry,” he said playfully, lifting his hand to his forehead in a mock salute before smoothing it down Michal’s cheek. “Just a quick rinse-off. The fries will take at least ten minutes to get here, and I’ll grab the door.”

They stepped into the shower together, letting the warm water wash over them. Michal stood slightly to the side, rinsing his hair, his eyes darting toward the door as if anxious. “I just don’t get why you ordered all that if we’re going to dinner later,” he said, voice muffled by the steam, “and… wasn’t it a bit much to ask for clean sheets while we’re out? It’s late—who’s even working? And who’s Herman?”

Daniel closed his eyes as the water hit his face, lathering shampoo through his hair. “You said you wanted to put some food in me, remember?” he teased, “And you puked up lunch, so… Besides, the reservation isn’t until 8:30.” He paused, catching the tension in Michal’s voice. “I just don’t like sleeping in mess. Even if it’s our mess.” He laughed softly, his eyes closed, the shampoo stinging a little. “And Herman? He’s the manager. Knows me through work.”

Michal shook his head, a smile playing on his lips, though he couldn’t mask the slight edge in his tone. “Okay, big guy who knows everyone. Now hurry up and get dressed, so I don’t have to panic when they knock.”

“Closing the door, sir!” Daniel called, mock-jiggling his body as he stepped out of the steam, only half dried, dripping water and amused by Michal’s laughter. He closed the bathroom door behind him, feeling the residue of their playful energy. He reached for his toiletry bag in his own suitcase, started rummaging through his clothes but couldn’t find his deodorant.

Michal’s suitcase was already open, and Daniel walked over, poking through it to find a deodorant stick. But instead, he found a bag inside—the grocery bag from The Hague—with his polo shirt spilling out of it. The sight made him pause, the pit of his stomach tightening. I thought I left this at the hotel? He looked closer—the briefs were there too, and a dark pill bottle resting at the bottom of the bag, the white label smudged and unreadable. Is that… Michal’s last name? He turned the bottle slightly, trying to make out the letters through the smear, but it was all a blur, a tangle of black ink on white.

A wave of unease washed over him, but he forced himself to put everything back as it was, closing the bag like he hadn’t touched it. It’s nothing, he told himself. Probably a mistake. Or maybe… pills for anxiety? Makes sense, doesn’t it? He tried to shake off the thoughts, focusing on getting dressed quickly, pulling on fresh clothes, as the knock came at the door.

He opened the door to let the waiters in, who moved quietly and efficiently as they set up trays of food on the round table in the middle of the suite. Daniel thanked them, signing for the room service and handing over a healthy tip, and then it was just him and the spread of snacks and drinks.

It’s fine, Daniel reassured himself as he downed the espresso shot in one gulp. He filled a wineglass with ice and poured in the Fanta, taking a sip as if to steady his nerves. Then he poured wine into another glass for Michal—not too much, just enough to relax him. He didn’t know what kind of medication Michal was on, but he’d rather be safe.

“I told you it’d come fast,” Michal said, emerging from the bathroom, a towel wrapped low around his waist, fresh and beautiful. He walked toward his suitcase, the tension in his shoulders visibly eased.

“Right again,” Daniel replied, trying to sound as relaxed as he could. He sat on the edge of the sofa, behind the table with the trays, his eyes following every movement of Michal’s body—the way he moved slowly, pulling on clothes like he was performing a reverse striptease. It was mesmerizing, the way the tight fabric clung to him, the way his muscles flexed and stretched, and Daniel found himself lost in the vision before him, his mouth full of salty fries, his desire returning in waves. The thoughts of the bag, the clothes, and the pills faded in the glow of Michal’s presence. Surely, there was an explanation; it all had to make sense. It just had to.

“Come here, I poured you a glass,” Daniel said, holding out the wine. He just needed Michal closer—his magnetic pull was irresistible, the kind that only seemed to intensify the more he resisted it.

Michal walked toward him, taking the glass from Daniel’s hand, their fingers brushing for a moment before he brought the glass to his lips. And in that moment, Daniel felt like he couldn’t get close enough, like no matter how much they were together, there would always be that lingering space, that inch of longing between them. And so, he sank back into the moment, letting everything else fall away.

***

As they settled in for dinner, Daniel felt a comfort wash over him—the gentle hum of the restaurant, the tender clink of cutlery, the glow of candlelight reflecting off polished glassware. He watched the server place down the dishes he'd ordered: artfully arranged creations with delicate flavours, each detail curated to perfection. His eyes brightened at the sight, and his attention sharpened, honing in on the plates as if they were fine art. Here, at this table, surrounded by opulence and beauty, Daniel felt entirely in his element.

He looked up to see Michal smiling at him, and it was the kind of smile that reached into something vulnerable, something genuine. Daniel marvelled at how dinner—just dinner—could feel like a gift, a moment to savour together. Taking a forkful of ravioli, its beetroot centre spilling a deep scarlet red, he nodded, satisfied with the burst of flavours. “Try this,” he said, offering the fork to Michal. The gesture felt more intimate than expected, like sharing a secret, and he luxuriated in the daring moment when Michal leaned in to take the bite directly from his hand.

Michal’s eyes closed briefly as he treasured the taste, and when they fluttered open, Daniel was waiting—watching him with an amused, knowing look. He loved these moments, loved seeing someone experience something new, and it made him happy to know that Michal, here in this elegant restaurant, was part of that shared pleasure.

“Wow,” Michal admitted, running a hand through his hair, a flush rising to his cheeks. “It’s really... incredible. This whole place is.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Daniel said softly, leaning closer, his voice low, meant only for Michal. “I wanted to give you something... special. To make you feel like this day was just for you.” There was no mistaking the sincerity in his words; he wanted to wrap Michal up in this, to make tonight feel like it was plucked from some distant, enchanted world—far away from whatever reality they would face when the night ended.

And that was it—their night, their world—held within the embrace of dim lights, rich tastes, and soft laughter. Daniel let himself sink into the ease of it all, indulging in every bite, every glance, losing himself in the pleasure of sharing this time.

Michal's foot brushed up his leg, a gentle nudge that travelled slowly upwards. Daniel’s smile deepened, a mix of affection and hunger dancing in his eyes, the closeness between them muddling the line between what was spoken and what remained unsaid. “You really know how to treat a guy,” Michal teased, his voice dipped in wine and desire.

“That’s the idea,” Daniel replied, his own voice dipping lower, pressing his foot back against Michal’s, the touch electric even through the fabric. He could see it—the wine taking its effect on Michal, relaxing his frame, drawing those tense edges out of his body. It made Daniel want to give more, to see how far Michal would let himself go, to see how deeply they could sink into this shared indulgence, how much they could lose and find within each other tonight.

The dishes continued to arrive—grilled vegetables with a sheen of olive oil, a seared steak for Daniel, each slice measured and enjoyed slowly. For Michal, the sea bass, its buttery flesh flaked apart delicately, and Daniel watched as Michal’s eyes softened with each bite, each taste opening up another layer of pleasure. Every shared forkful, every fleeting touch beneath the table, felt like they were constructing something—building a memory that was all theirs. Daniel’s world of luxury, of ease, opened up to Michal in those small moments, the longing, the pleasure, intertwined with an unspoken tension, a hunger that never seemed to fade.

As the final course arrived—small scoops of sorbet, glistening like jewels in the candlelight—Daniel leaned back, eyes trained on Michal. He felt a deep contentment, just watching him. He loved seeing Michal like this, bathed in the warmth of the evening, eyes bright and a little hazy from the wine. The candlelight danced over his face, softening his features, deepening the honesty in his eyes. Everything felt so simple, so natural, and Daniel basked in it—the way the night seemed to wrap around them, holding back everything beyond this moment.

But as the plates were cleared, Daniel felt a familiar knot form in his chest—a tightening he had become used to, the creeping realization that the night wouldn’t last forever. The indulgence that had smoothed the edges of the day now left a faint tension in the air. Daniel caught himself glancing at his watch, feeling time slip away like sand through his fingers, and he saw the way Michal's face shifted, a tiny ripple of worry breaking through his easy smile.

“So... what now?” Michal asked, and though he tried to keep his voice light, Daniel could hear the nerves beneath the casualness, the unspoken fear that maybe this was all fleeting, that the night could collapse at any second.

Daniel held his stare, his eyes steady. He reached across the table, taking Michal’s hand in his own, his touch tender but filled with intent. “We could head back to the hotel,” he said, his voice measured, each word balanced like a tightrope. “Relax... see how we feel later.” It was an answer that left room for the night to unfold however it needed, to keep them both wrapped in this fragile bubble a little while longer.

Michal nodded, and as they left the restaurant, Daniel kept the moment easy, guiding them toward the waiting Uber with a sense of purpose and calm, as though nothing about this night was uncertain. City lights cast shadows across their path, the air cool and clear as they stepped into the car, sliding in next to each other. Silence settled between them, thick but sweet, like the lingering zest of sorbet on Daniel’s tongue.

Back in the suite, Daniel moved through familiar motions—untucking his shirt, removing his watch, letting the mundane acts ground him. He knew that reality waited just beyond this night, before it even, but as he looked at Michal standing there, the moment felt suspended, untouchable. And in that fragile silence, he felt the pull to just stay, to hold onto whatever this was for a little longer—before the world, and all its complexities, would find them again.