He rolled his eyes but came over and took the offered seat. “Just freezing to death, that it? I want all of my clothes back, by the way.”
“If you’re good.” Kaz grinned when that earned him a scowl. “What’s wrong, Pretty Boy?” He moved to stand behind him and leaned over, trapping Nate between his arms. “Thinking about being bad, so I bend you over the table and eat you instead?”
“No.” His cheeks turned pink, and it was clear he was imagining it.
“Too bad,” Kaz straightened and rounded the table. “Blow jobs are a reward, not a punishment.”
“You really need to stop with this whole punishment bullshit.”
“No can do.” He sat down and picked up his fork. “You and Zane both need to adjust the way you see relationships. Why should I have to?”
“Zane?” Nate repeated.
“Yeah.” Kaz speared one of the greens and popped it into his mouth. “He also scolded me when I suggested punishment.”
Nate’s shoulders stiffened and he fiddled with his utensils.
“Do you not like ress?” Kaz had automatically ordered his usual dish from his favorite restaurant, and it was just now occurring to him he probably should have asked Nate what he felt like eating.
“No,” he shook his head and took a small bite, “it’s fine.”
“Fine? This costs eighty coin a plate.”
“I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”
“That’s not what I meant, Narek.”
“I didn’t ask you to order dinner,” he stated. “Or come home with me, for that matter.”
“Then next time you’ll come home with me.”
“That’s—”
“We’re only here because I thought you’d be more comfortable in your own space while you adjusted,” Kazimir told him. “I’d certainly prefer to be in my warm house with the fully stocked kitchen and the king-sized bed.”
Nate waved over his shoulder. “There’s the door.”
“Why are you angry with me all of a sudden?”
“Is it sudden?”
He nodded. “You were sweet in the car on the drive here.”
Sweet was maybe taking it a bit far, but he hadn’t sworn or glared at Kaz, at least, and that was an improvement in his book. He’d also driven them straight home and agreed to go take a shower while Kazimir waited.
“Just,” Nate set his fork down, “tell me how long you want this to go on for.”
“What?” He took in the set table. “Dinner typically lasts until the food is gone or the people eating it are full.”
“No, not—” Nate pinched his brow. “I meant this whole dating thing, Kaz. How long do you want us to date? Give me a timeline.”
He frowned. “I don’t think relationships usually work that way. Do you usually plan out the finish line with the people you’re going out with?”
And his friends thought he was the one with commitment issues. Yikes.
“We aren’t really dating, though,” Nate argued. “We’re doing this to convince your friends, remember? That’s what you told me.”
“We fuck like the real thing,” Kazimir stated, not liking the turn this conversation was taking. “That means we are the real thing.” He must not have made that clear enough. He’d correct that.
