Ranger - Jericho's Boys #4 - ch. 18 (Patreon)

Very unbeta'd/unedited. I've reworked this chapter so many times. Just ignore any typos or redundencies, as usual.

Seven

“You can shower first.” 

Seven glanced at Enzo in the elevator’s reflection, but didn’t say anything. He was still pouting about having to shower alone. Enzo had looked so fucking hot at work in his gray suit and black silk tie, Seven had barely been able to keep his hands to himself during the office roundtable. 

“I’m talking to you,” Enzo said, sliding his fingers into Seven’s belt loops, then pulling him back against him. 

Seven opened his mouth to respond but was distracted when Enzo’s lips found the side of his neck, teeth sinking into the purple bruise he’d left just under the now unbuttoned collar of his shirt. 

“You’re the reason I had to wear this stupid collared shirt in the first place,” Seven mumbled, hand rising to tangle in Enzo’s hair, keeping him in place as he sucked an even deeper bruise into the same spot. 

“Are you complaining, brat?” Enzo murmured in his ear.

Seven gave an undignified squeak as Enzo’s hand connected with his already throbbing ass cheek, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet elevator. 

Seven’s mouth fell open as he stared at Enzo’s reflection in disbelief. “You can spank me in an elevator but you can’t fuck me in the shower? I’m starting to think you just don’t want to have sex with me,” he challenged. 

His ears heated up at Enzo’s lazy chuckle. “If you think you can break me with your bratty little attitude, you’re mistaken. We’re not playing again until those welts heal… and that won’t happen if you keep pressing on them.” 

Seven flushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

He knew exactly what Enzo was talking about. He’d excused himself several times in order to lock himself in the far left bathroom stall with the mirror so he could lower his pants and look at the marks criss-crossing his skin. Each time he’d trailed his fingers over them, he’d gotten flashes of the night before, making him bite back a groan and try to stave off getting hard at work. 

“No? That wasn’t you wincing every time you sat down at your desk? Weird. You must have a doppelganger.” 

“Maybe they won’t heal because you keep smacking me,” Seven snarked, then stiffened, realizing he’d fallen into Enzo’s trap. 

“I’m glad you see it my way. Separate showers, then dinner. Maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll blow you before bed.” 

The elevator dinged acknowledging their arrival home as Seven tried to calm down. He’d started out irritated, now he was horny, too. Enzo seemed to love tormenting him. 

They slipped off their shoes at the entryway then hung up their bags. Enzo didn’t carry Seven up the stairs for once, but he did hold his hand until they reached the bedroom. 

“You go first,” Seven said, nodding towards the bathroom. 

Enzo shook his head. “No, you go first.” 

“No, I need a minute to, like, unwind, before I get in the shower,” Seven said. “You go.” 

“If you go first, then I can help you put the ointment cream on after.” 

Seven rolled his eyes. “If you help me put on ointment cream, we’re gonna get just as derailed as we would if we shower together. So let's just shower together? You can just be careful. I promise you didn’t break me. We don’t even have to play. You could just fuck me?” 

Enzo sighed. “You make a compelling argument,” Enzo said. Seven perked up until he said, “But no. Shower, then dinner. We can discuss what you can and can’t do sexually after that.” Seven opened his mouth but Enzo cut him off with a sharp look. “And only after that. Now go shower.” 

This went on for another five minutes before Seven cried, “Rock, paper, scissors.” 

“What?” Enzo asked, staring at him blankly. 

“We can settle this like adults,” Seven said. “Rock, paper, scissors. Loser showers first.” 

“Are you serious?” Enzo asked, amused. 

Seven smirked, arching a brow. “Why not? Scared I’ll win?” 

Enzo’s smile was borderline psychotic. “Do you know how many siblings I have? You won’t win.” 

Seven won. 

His paper covered Enzo’s rock. Now, it was Enzo who was pouting.

Seven’s smile was ten miles wide as he said, “You shower first, D___y.” 

“You’re so asking for it tonight,” Enzo murmured, voice low and smooth. 

Seven yanked Enzo’s tie loose, then removed it, going for the buttons on his shirt. “Begging for it, even. Maybe you should just give it to me?” 

“Keep playing with me and you’ll get what you’re asking for, but not the way you want it. Remember those non-physical punishments we discussed? Would you like to spend the night writing me an essay on why BDSM contracts exist and why play partners should use them?” 

Seven recoiled like Enzo had slapped him. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

“Wouldn’t I?” Enzo asked, undoing the rest of his buttons, then stripping out of his shirt, setting it in the dry clean only hamper. “Or I could quiz you for your bar exam while I have you kneeling in the corner? That’s a viable option too.” 

Seven huffed. “I won. Go shower.” 

Seven tidied up their room while Enzo stood under the spray loudly belting out everything from Italian opera to Madonna. Seven had to stop several times, just to peek around the corner and watch him through the foggy glass, his chest so tight it could burst. 

When Enzo returned, his hair was dripping and he’d knotted a towel low on his hips. 

Seven whimpered, making grabby hands at him. Enzo crossed the room, wrapping his arms around him…then promptly shook his head like a dog, spraying Seven with frigid drops of water, laughing when he gave an indignant shout. 

Enzo dropped a kiss on Seven’s pouting lips. “Shower, now. Then meet me downstairs.” 

“Yes, D___y,” Seven mumbled. 

Seven didn’t have to wait long for the water to heat. He stepped into the steamy shower then hissed as the water reached his abused backside. He stiffened, face pinched in pain while he waited for his body to adjust to the shock, the burn finally returning to the dull, throbbing ache. 

He took a deep breath, groaning when the sharp, spicy scent of Enzo filled his nose. Everything smelled like him…even Seven. It was a byproduct of living in Enzo’s space and using Enzo’s expensive luxury products. His soap, his shampoo and conditioner, his shaving cream, even his spare deodorant. Enzo wasn’t a 3-in-1-product kind of guy, which meant Seven wasn’t anymore either. 

Their lives were so intertwined now. It boggled his mind. They’d been through so much together. He pressed his forearm against the wall and rested his head there, letting the water jet across his back. His muscles still ached from being restrained last night. 

That was something else rich people just didn’t appreciate. 

Water pressure. 

Seven’s shower had less pressure than a garden hose. For the first six years of his life, they lived in an apartment with a giant hole in the bathroom tiles. He’d always had a fear that something might crawl out of it while he was showering. Meanwhile, Enzo’s shower had three heads, twelve settings, a speaker system and mood lighting. They were not the same. 

He sighed, grabbing the body wash and a wash cloth, scrubbing his body as his thoughts began to domino in his head. Enzo was rich. Disgustingly rich. Seven was not. He wasn’t even middle class. Enzo didn’t seem to care. His family didn’t either. But that’s because they didn’t know they were engaged. 

Sort of. 

Would Enzo want him to sign a prenup? Probably. They were both attorney’s, it was the smart thing to do. It’s what Seven would advise any client to do. He couldn’t be mad if Enzo wanted to protect his assets. Though not a single Mulvaney had a prenup. But maybe that was because the only way out of a Mulvaney marriage was a coffin? Did Enzo believe in divorce? Was he religious? Was his family religious? That was probably something they should have discussed before marriage. Right? 

And what about kids? 

Seven shook his head, wrenching off the water before his anxiety had him planning out their imaginary divorce before he’d even gotten the ring on his finger. He toweled off quickly, then threw on his new joggers—a pair of overpriced Gucci track pants—hoping the lack of underwear might act as a talisman of sorts and get Seven laid. He was all about manifesting what he wanted. 

He should have put on one of the many new shirts Enzo had bought him, but instead he went to the bottom drawer and dug out one of Enzo’s super-soft t-shirts. This one was a faded blue and had a guitar on it. The writing was so worn down, Seven couldn’t even read where it had come from. 

Once he was dressed and his hair mostly dried, he padded downstairs to find Enzo in the kitchen, bare-chested, bare-footed and hair still a little damp, curling over his forehead. He smiled when he saw Seven and patted the counter beside him. When Seven was within reach, Enzo reeled him in, kissing him thoroughly before lifting him up onto the marble slab that was the center island. 

Just the kiss had temporarily scrambled Seven’s brain. He let his eyes take in the kitchen. Like, really take it in. It was the size of any commercial kitchen but much more upscale. The stove top was built right into the marble and beneath it were double ovens that were stainless steel with gold accents. They matched the two ovens built into the far wall. Seven was gonna marry a man with four ovens and two giant refrigerators. What was his life? 

To be fair, Enzo did have an enormous family. When there were eighteen to twenty people at every family gathering, maybe four ovens was reasonable? 

He leaned back on his hands, giving Enzo a lazy once over, once more pondering what Enzo could possibly see in him. Aesthetically, Enzo was perfect. Enzo was a fairy tale. Rich. Smart. Successful. Sexy as hell…kinky. Lovely family. Anyone would have been lucky to have him. 

But that was only the part that the world saw. Seven was the only one who knew that his sexy, bearded, tatted up boyfriend loved catty teen movies, that he sang opera and pop songs in the shower, that he had massive childhood trauma, that he was a giant dork who liked dad jokes, silly puns and leaving Seven little gifts every day. Enzo was insanely generous to the people he loved and he was really fucking good at taking care of those people. 

He was really good at taking care of Seven. 

Seven bit the inside of his cheek, chest tight. He was so in love with this man he even annoyed himself. Enzo made him feel…crazy. Possessive. Jealous. Feral. He’d lived most of his life without Enzo but the idea of living the rest of it the same way made him want to throw up. 

Enzo stood there, blissfully unaware of Seven’s musings, testing his sanity, wearing nothing but a pair of loose fitting white linen pants that hung low on his chiseled hips. Seven distracted himself by stealing a cherry tomato from the bowl beside the cutting board. 

Enzo swatted his hand. “I’m trying to cook here.” 

Seven grinned, wiggling his brows like a cartoon villain. “And I’m trying to see how much trouble I can get into before dinner.” 

Enzo snickered, going back to his chopping. “Behave, brat.” 

He didn’t want to behave. He wanted to cause trouble, wanted to push Enzo’s buttons until he pushed back and punished him. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight. If he pushed too hard, Enzo would do something truly psychotic like have him recite the preamble to the Constitution or something. 

Something panged deep in Seven’s chest. He didn’t want the wounds to heal. He liked looking at them, feeling the pain when he touched them. They were a souvenir, a constant reminder that he belonged to Enzo. Every time he’d sat down at work, he’d grimaced, only to look up and find Enzo smirking at him from his desk. 

Seven had hoped to hear something from the twins but Lucky had only just been able to smuggle the thumb drive out of the evidence locker that morning. They said they were gonna take their time, comb through every line of code if they had to. He trusted them. He believed them. If there was a way to prove his mother’s innocence, Enzo would find it. 

But Seven preferred Jericho’s way. Find the ones the law ignored, then dispose of them quickly and quietly so they never hurt anyone again. That’s what he’d do to whoever had set up his mother. Okay, probably not. He doubted that Jericho would be willing to kill someone over embezzlement, but he could dream. Would Enzo want him to stop helping Jericho once they were married?

Seven bit his lip at the thought. Married. As in forever. Enzo would be his…forever. His brain couldn’t even process it. How had they gotten there? Would they stay there in the loft? Would they really open their own practice? Would they have kids? The thought of himself as a father was such a mind-fuck. Like he was a kid, how could he have a kid? Felix had kids. Babies. And he was a great dad. But Felix had Jericho as a role model. Seven’s lip curled. He just had Stanley. 

“Why are you snarling at me, baby?” 

He snapped his head up. “Sorry, was just…daydreaming, I guess.” 

It was clear Enzo didn’t believe him, but he went back to chopping, the soft sound of the blade rhythmic against the board. Seven probably would’ve gone back to brooding about his shitty dad if Enzo’s body hadn’t proved to be such an exquisite distraction.

So instead, he looked.

Enzo was so fucking beautiful, it almost hurt to stare too long. Literal artwork. He didn’t belong in a museum, he was the museum. Every tattoo was perfectly placed, each one drawing the eye to the shape of his muscles, the taper of his waist, the swell of his biceps. The ink didn’t just decorate him, it…venerated him.

Seven’s gaze dropped to Enzo’s forearms, his throat tightening. The veins were sharp beneath his skin, even through the ink. His hands looked huge, capable, dangerous. The way his fingers curled just so as he chopped vegetables made Seven’s breath catch, so intentional, so practiced, so familiar. He swallowed, pulse skipping.

He was just standing there, just making dinner, and Seven wanted to pounce.

It was everything; the strength in his hands, the effortless grace with the knife, the way concentration creased the space between his brows. That look on his gorgeous face, that single-minded focus, it was the same one he wore when he was wrecking Seven with his mouth, with his hands, with his voice. Seven’s ears started to burn.

“You’re staring,” Enzo said, making Seven jump guiltily. 

Enzo laughed softly but didn’t glance up from his task. 

“And who’s fault is that?” Seven countered poutily. “You’re the one walking around shirtless. I’m only a man.” 

Enzo grinned, grabbing another cherry tomato and holding it to Seven’s lips. He took it, making a show of crushing it between his teeth, earning another grin from the other man. He swiped his thumb across Seven’s chin, capturing the juice running down his chin, then bringing it to his own lips, with a dark look that had something stirring low in his belly. 

“You’re not playing fair,” Seven whispered, feeling undone. 

Enzo didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Right,” Seven muttered, kicking his foot out to dig his toe into Enzo’s thigh. 

After a minute, Enzo asked, “Have you thought about it?” 

Seven flushed, guilt and arousal warring within him. “I-It?” 

“Yes, it,” Enzo repeated, amusement dripping from every word. “Our discussion?” 

“We’ve had a lot of discussions today,” Seven said. 

“The talk that involves what we did in bed last night,” Enzo clarified like he was discussing some mundane chore. 

“You wanna do the kink talk… while you make pasta?”

“Exactly,” Enzo said, tossing the fresh garlic into the pan. The smell bloomed in the air, making Seven’s stomach growl. “Keeps us both distracted enough to keep it honest. If we have this conversation in bed, I’ll start thinking with my dick and you’ll start trying to be clever.”

“I don’t have to try,” Seven mumbled. “I’m very clever. One of the highest GPA’s in the school.” 

Enzo leaned into his space and plopped a kiss on his lips. “I don’t doubt it. But you’re not gonna distract me tonight. We’re doing this or we’re not playing together again.” 

Seven sighed, swinging his feet to try to create a distraction for himself. “Fine. Shoot.”

“Okay, let's start with what you know you like,” Enzo said.

Seven bit down on his bottom lip, suddenly feeling shy. It was silly considering everything they’d already done and how vocal he’d been about it when Enzo was refusing to give it to him. But now the words stuck in his throat. 

When he remained silent, Enzo glanced over, arching a brow. “What’s wrong?” 

Seven shrugged. “I don’t know. It's just…awkward.” 

Enzo gave him a soft smile. “Is it awkward or are you just afraid to ask for what you need from me?” 

“Well, damn,” Seven mumbled. 

“No pressure,” Enzo added quickly. “This isn’t about setting traps or passing some test. This is about us making sure we’re both on the same page so it stays fun and safe and doesn’t get… confusing. You’ve been pushing me—”

“Because I like it,” Seven cut in. “I like it when you take control. When I don’t have to decide anything. You tell me what to do, and I do it. It’s... nice.”

“That’s the submissive talking,” Enzo said gently. “That’s good. I like hearing that. Keep going.”

Seven licked his lower lip. “Uh, yeah. Okay. Um…I like being restrained. I like clear instructions. When I’m restrained, you have to do everything.” 

Was that selfish? 

Enzo didn’t miss a beat, just kept moving about the kitchen. “Noted. What else?” 

“Blindfolding. I-I liked it. I think I might like to try other sensory things. Headphones, maybe? More spanking?”

Once more, Enzo nodded. “Sure. What about other sensory play?”

“Like what?” Seven asked, skin warm. “I don’t know exactly what that is?” 

“Feathers. Ice. Heat. Wax. Vampire gloves. The Wartenberg wheel. Vibrators. Tuning forks. Silicone floggers.” He held up the item in his hand. “Wooden spatula. Anything that engages your senses.” 

Seven wasn’t going to survive this conversation. “I-I think I’d like to try all of it so I know if I like it. Would-Would that be okay?” 

Enzo gave him an encouraging nod. “Sure. I’m into it. What about things you know you definitely don’t want?” 

Seven wrinkled his nose. “Being gagged. That idea freaks me out. Especially if I’m also tied up. If I can’t speak at all, I get panicky.”

Enzo nodded. “I get that. I don’t like you not having the ability to safeword in some way. Hard limit?” 

Seven nodded, heart hammering away like he’d run a mile. 

“Easy. Anything else?” Enzo asked. 

Seven took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out. “I-I don’t think I’d like humiliation. Not like—real degrading stuff. Like I don’t mind you calling me slutty or…or a whore, but not when you’re angry with me. And I don’t want to be called, like, worthless or stupid. That kind of thing.”

“I would never do that to you,” Enzo said, reaching for a bottle of olive oil. “That’s a hard limit for me, too. I don’t enjoy inflicting shame. Not my thing.” He dropped a kiss on Seven’s lips as he passed. “I do like calling you a slut, though.” 

“I like it, too,” Seven said. He loved it, in fact. He liked being Enzo’s slut. Enzo’s whore. But just his. “Do you have hard limits?”

Enzo thought for a moment. “Blood. Knife play. Things that break skin. I’m not into that. It’s not a moral judgment, it just doesn’t do anything for me, and I’d rather not mix it with sex. Besides, your skin is so beautiful. I wouldn’t want to permanently damage it.”

Seven nodded slowly. “Okay. But... stuff like blindfolds, rope, spanking…you’re into that?”

“I’m into the power exchange,” Enzo clarified. “I like watching you surrender. I like rewarding you. I like guiding you. I like giving you rules because I think you want them, even if you pretend you don’t.”

God, this conversation was getting him too worked up. His face flushed as he swallowed hard, then said, “I-I do want to clarify something with the-the gagging.” 

“Go ahead,” Enzo said, nodding encouragingly. 

“God, this is so embarrassing to just say it like this but…I do like when you force me to choke on your cock,” he mumbled, ears on fire. “I like you holding me down, talking me through it like I’m-like I don’t know what I’m doing.” He chewed the skin on the inside of his cheek until he was sure he tasted blood. “Is that okay?” 

“It’s all okay,” Enzo promised. “All of it. There’s no right or wrong answers.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” Enzo confirmed, opening the bag of fresh bread they’d snagged on the way home. Seven’s stomach rumbled once more. He watched closely as Enzo tore off a piece then dipped it into a small bowl filled with the olive oil and herbs. Before he could even ask, Enzo raised the piece to Seven’s lips. 

Seven bit back a moan as he chewed thoughtfully.  

 “What else?” Enzo encouraged softly. 

He flushed once more, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I do. I think... I want that thing Nico and Mal have. The daily stuff. Domestic discipline. I want to try it. The rules. The punishments. The structure.”

Enzo crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. “You want behavior correction? You? My brattiest of brats?”

Seven shrugged. “Maybe. I want to be good for you. But I want there to be a cost when I’m not.”

Enzo smiled. “That’s something we can build together. You don’t have to know all the answers today. We’re going to try things, talk about them, see what fits.”

“What else should we cover?” Seven asked.

“Safewords,” Enzo said. “We can use the one we used before, the first night…what was it? Starburst? Or we can stick with the traffic light system. Red, yellow, green.”

“Traffic light is good. I made up the other one on the spot. I can’t believe you remember that,” Seven said. “What else?”

“Do you want to explore orgasm control? Denial? Forced restraint?”

Seven blinked. “Maybe?”

Enzo laughed. “That’s a soft limit.”

“Oh, right.” 

“So, um. So with domestic discipline…” Seven started, dropping his gaze to his hands. 

Enzo checked the boiling water on the back burner, noting the fresh noodles on the counter. “Just say it, baby.” 

Where had those even come from? There was no way Enzo had time to make that. Did he? 

“Just say it, baby.” 

“I want a star chart,” he blurted. “Like…like the one in my desk. The secret one. I-I really like it.” 

Enzo’s mouth curved faintly. Seven grabbed another raw tomato, chewing it slowly. 

“Okay. I like the idea. We’d just need to decide what counts as ‘bad’, other than eating all my mise en place.”

“Your what now?” Seven asked. 

“My ingredients,” Enzo said, leaning over to give him another kiss. 

Seven felt like he remembered nothing, like he’d blacked out for most of this conversation. “So what about you? What’s on your official no list? I mean, hard limits?”

Enzo set the wooden spoon down and ticked them off on his fingers. “No edge play with breathing, no humiliation that actually tears you down, no permanent marks without agreement, no public play without planning. I don’t do blood or medical beyond patching you up. And no scenes if either of us is too angry at each other to think straight.”

Seven gave a stilted nod. “Soft limits?”

“Roleplay that gets too close to non-con, that can get messy fast. If that’s something you want to explore as we get deeper into this, we can discuss it further then. And… exhibitionism. I’m not saying no, just maybe, but only if it’s with people I trust completely and only if that’s something you want.”

Seven hummed. Who would Enzo trust that much? Who would Seven trust that much? Nico and Mal maybe? Or maybe someone they paid to be there. 

It wasn’t really something Seven cared to explore right now. “That’s fair. I’m not totally against that stuff but its not high on my list of things to try but I don’t know, for sure, that I want to try them.” 

“See, was that so hard?” Enzo asked, wrapping his arms around Seven’s waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

Seven stared at Enzo’s profile for a minute. “No. I guess not.” After a moment passed, Seven said, “Can-Can we go back to the domestic discipline thing for a minute?” 

This time, Enzo smirked when he looked up at him. “You really like that idea, huh. If I’d known how much you’d love being rewarded I would have used the star stickers more.” 

Seven’s ears burned. “I know the kind of punishments I could get but…what about the rewards?” 

Enzo shot him a look “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would, actually,” Seven said, smiling. “Yeah.” 

“Then be good, and you’ll find out,” he replied smoothly. “Same goes for punishments, and I’m not above making you write ‘I will not mouth off to my D___y in the kitchen’ a hundred times while dinner gets cold.”

Seven wrinkled his nose. “That’s cruel.” He held up a limp wrist like a puppy with a hurt paw, giving him his best pout. “I have carpal tunnel syndrome.”

“Then behave,” Enzo said, his tone unsympathetic. He snapped his fingers as if he’d just remembered something. “Aftercare preferences?” 

“I’m not sure,” Seven said, honestly. “I liked what you did last night.” 

Enzo gave him an encouraging smile. “Which parts specifically did you like?” 

“I like you… I liked you washing me, holding me. I liked the weighted blanket. It felt…grounding, I guess. I liked that you fed me. I was hungry and thirsty but the thought of having to move or decide what I wanted to eat was way too much. I just-I just liked hearing your voice and smelling you and feeling your hands on me. That stuff always makes me feel better…even when we’re not playing,” he finished quietly. 

Enzo cupped his face and kissed him until his toes curled. “I like that, too, baby.” 

“Good.” 

“My aftercare preferences are physical and verbal check-ins. I’m going to ask you how you feel, I’m going to dress any wounds I caused. I need to have you nearby while I watch you come down. I need to be the one taking care of you. Bathing you, feeding you, helping you get dressed. Holding you. Those are my non-negotiables.” 

“Do doms experience drops too?” Seven asked, frowning. 

Enzo nodded. “They can. You’re not in the scene alone. Your safety is entirely in my hands. If anything happens to you, that’s all on me. It’s a big mental load to carry. If you were to just leave after a scene and I couldn’t make sure you were safe, comfortable…happy. I would feel like shit.” 

Seven dragged Enzo into a hug, wrapping his arms and legs around him. “You really are a soft-hearted person. You’re gonna make a great dad.” 

The moment the words slipped free, Seven wanted to suck them back in. Especially when he stiffened against him. 

Enzo pulled back, looking a little dazed when he asked, “Really? You’d…You’d want that?” 

Seven nodded slowly. “The more I think about what you said…about our moms pushing us to have kids, the more I like the idea. I don’t know if I’d be a good dad or not, but I know you would be…but, like, eventually.” Seven said, holding up his hands. “Like, not right this second. I have to finish school and we have to start our practice, and get married, of course, and then make sure we have a place that isn’t a baby-proofing nightma-” 

Enzo cut him off with another kiss. “I hear you,” he said against his lips. “Yes to babies…in, like, five years.” 

Seven gave a happy sigh, letting Enzo hug him. “Yeah, that. Now, can you please finish dinner? I’m starving.” 

Enzo snorted, letting him go. “Careful, brat, before I change my mind about disciplining you tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I wish.” 

“Careful, brat, before I change my mind about disciplining you tonight.”

Seven watched contentedly as Enzo added the tomatoes, balsamic vinegar and a pinch of something white—salt or sugar maybe—into the pan, then covered it with the lid and lowered the temperature. 

The scent was heavenly. 

Enzo returned to Seven, tearing off more bread, dipping it in the oil then feeding it to him. “We’ve still got about thirty minutes. But have some carbs before your carbs. It will tide you over.” 

Seven savored it. “You really are the perfect man.” 

“You’re only saying that because I’m feeding you bread.” 

Seven shrugged. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” 

He tore off a piece of bread and fed it to Enzo. “This is gonna be fun.”

Enzo’s smile was slow, warm, and just a little dangerous. “Yeah, it is.”

Seven narrowed his eyes. “What exactly are you thinking right now?” 

“Right now?” Enzo asked. “I’m thinking about all the ways I could fuck you on this countertop.” 

His casual confession knocked the breath out of Seven. “Oh.” 

Enzo grinned. “Yeah, oh.” 

“Tonight?” Seven asked, letting hope bleed into his tone. “No scenes, just sex. Please?” 

Enzo sighed, shaking his head. “Maybe.” 

“I’ll take maybe.” 

“We’ll talk over dinner,” Enzo said sternly. 

“Yes, D___y.”