“It’s okay,” Dylan said, forcing himself to cut another bite.
August wasn’t using his fork, but had picked up his bread and was eating it in big bites, his cheeks bulging as he chewed.
Ryker squinted at him, and then he pushed his plate forward. “Let’s switch. You’ll like the scallops better.”
Dylan blushed, feeling like an idiot for having ordered something he didn’t like. It felt like proof that the restaurant was too fancy for him.
“No, it’s okay. You wanted the scallops.”
“Give me your plate,” Ryker instructed, pushing his plate all the way over to Dylan. He had to lean out of his chair to reach, and Dylan watched the scallops coming toward him with embarrassed want. “That was an order, Dylan.”
Dylan’s skin prickled on the back of his neck at the tone of Ryker’s voice. He obediently pushed his plate forward, letting Ryker take it.
“Good boy,” Ryker said, sitting back down and making himself comfortable. The words made Dylan blush, and he hastily picked up his fork and took a bite of scallop just so that he’d have something to do with his hands.
August watched the exchange with a heated expression, looking from Dylan to Ryker and then back again.
“Better?” August asked, teasing. He took another bite of his toast, having now devoured about half of it in two bites.
Dylan nodded, the buttery tenderness of the scallop seeming to melt on his tongue. It wasdelicious.
“If you don’t like something, you tell us. Do you understand?”
Ryker still sounded strict, and Dylan’s spine tingled. He looked down at his plate and nodded.
“Look at me and tell me you understand.”
Dylan bit his lip, getting the impression they were talking about more than food. Despite his blush, he made himself lift his face and meet Ryker’s gaze. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something. I promise.”
Ryker nodded at him, a curt dip of his chin that had Dylan feeling like the words good boy had been spoken, even though they hadn’t.
“Fuck, I finished my food,” August said, staring down at his empty plate with a frown. He was still chewing his last bite, and Dylan couldn’t believe how quickly he’d eaten.
“That’s because you eat like an animal,” Ryker chastised, his voice fond. “Order something else when the waiter brings me my beer.”
August got a mischievous look on his face. “Or maybe, instead of ruining my appetite before the main course, I can give Dylan a shoulder rub. He looks a little tense.”
Ryker chuckled, looking Dylan up and down. “He does look a little tense. Maybe you’re right. Dylan, would you like a shoulder rub?”
“Um, maybe?” Dylan swallowed a scallop. “I mean, yes?”
He hadn’t mentally prepared himself to feel August touching him while he was at the table, but he wasn’t going to say no to having those massive hands rubbing his shoulders.
“Wonderful,” August crooned, rising up from his chair. He walked around the table, sauntering toward Dylan with a cocky swagger, cracking his knuckles and stretching out his fingers. “You keep eating and I’ll work those knots out of your shoulders.”
Dressed in just the tight sweater and leather pants, August looked really good. Without the jacket and gloves making him look like a dungeon master, the leather pants looked sophisticated and enticingly masculine.
Not that the dungeon master look didn’t suit August really well. It did. It was just a little too intimidating for Dylan to be able to appreciate it properly on a first date.
“Hi there,” August said, moving behind him and putting his hands on Dylan’s shoulders. He leaned down and nuzzled the top of Dylan’s head, gently squeezing down on his shoulders.
He started the massage with both thumbs at the base of Dylan’s skull, right at the top of his spine, and pushed in, massaging firmly and dragging his thumbs down the vertebra in Dylan’s neck.
Dylan closed his eyes, a moan rising from his chest unbidden when August moved further down and started working the tendons of his neck.
“Come on, eat your scallops,” August commanded, grip getting a little firmer. “You wouldn’t want Ryker to think you were ungrateful.”
Dylan reached for his fork, his movement restricted by August’s hands on his shoulders. His movements were clumsy, and it took several tries to get one of the scallops speared on the prongs.
