June 5th, 2017, 18:48
The moment he saw the name of the restaurant, Aiden felt his stomach sink. Jordi had sent him an address, nothing more, but he had done enough research in the area to know that this restaurant was one of the ones with a three-month waiting list unless you were somebody who knew somebody. The fact that Jordi had asked him to meet here…
There was a small USB drive in his pocket, holding a set of files that were relevant to a job Jordi was doing right now. He could have just emailed them over, but this meetup was like a lot of their hotel sharing: a convenient excuse to see each other with the justification of work laid over it. To an outside observer, they were just exchanging information. Aiden’s drive now for a hard drive Jordi needed him to decrypt--and if that meant they had to meet up again for Aiden to pass that information on too, he wasn’t about to complain.
But the restaurant they were meeting at was… nice. Expensive. Not quite a celeb-spotting hotspot, but definitely someplace where the movers and shakers of the world came to eat. And Jordi had just made a reservation without question, apparently.
Aiden looked down at his clothes. A serviceable tshirt, jeans, and leather jacket--not too different from what he’d had to wear in Florida. Definitely not fancy enough for a place like this.
He sighed, then climbed out of the perfectly average sedan that stuck out in a parking lot full of luxury vehicles. It was time to see if Jordi’s name was enough to get him through the front doors.
The maître d' was dressed a hell of a lot nicer than he was, but didn’t kick him out instantly. His cool demeanor changed almost instantly when Aiden gave him the name on the reservation, and within seconds he was being led past well-dressed patrons at perfectly set tables to a private room at the back of restaurant. Whatever they served here, it smelled delicious.
The room was small, but clearly held room for a bigger table than the one set up. There were only two chairs at it, the white tablecloth reaching down to the floor, and a candle stood tall in the center. The candle was lit. The wine glasses were full of a rich red—probably from the bottle that sat on a discreet service table against the wall. There weren’t any menus set out, and the lights in the room had been dimmed.
Aiden narrowed his eyes, but sat as the maître d' disappeared again. With the door shut, silence descended. Not even the ambient sound of a hundred diners penetrated.
Jordi hadn’t arrived yet.
It gave him time to examine the room further, eyeing the paintings and the plush carpet under his shoes. The silence could be explained by the cushioning on the door and walls, easily mistaken for wallpaper at first glance, cutting any possible echoes and dampening every noise from outside—or within. There weren’t any cameras in this room, though the room out front and the kitchen both had them. None of the private rooms had cameras, in fact, which Aiden found very interesting, given that the office did. How many executives and crime lords did business in these rooms? How much of a cut did the restaurant owners take? It wasn’t a mobbed up business, he’d checked that on his way in, but he was willing to bet it benefitted from a variety of protection rackets.
There was an empty vase sitting next to the wine bottle, and room for someone to set down… something. His suspicions deepened, but Aiden had the feeling that Jordi wouldn’t answer his questions over text.
When Jordi finally walked in ten minutes later, it was with the ugliest goddamn bouquet Aiden had ever seen. Instead of the usual pinks and reds he’d expected, half the flowers were yellow-green, and the other half were orange, with delicate springs of white somethings tucked between them. It had obviously been expensive, and the flowers were well cut, but it was also clearly custom. Aiden refused to believe that a florist would sell something that ugly without having their arm twisted first.
He was also carrying a gilded box under his arm, which was set on the service table as Jordi dumped the bouquet in the vase. Aiden’s suspicions were confirmed. This was a date.
“Seriously?” he asked as Jordi sat down, his white suit and red shit a much better match for the restaurant than Aiden’s daywear. “I thought this was going to be an information exchange.”
“Well, yeah. We’ll do that too. I just wanted to do something special,” Jordi said, with a shit-eating grin that Aiden didn’t trust for a second. This wasn’t just a date. There was something else going on here.
His first thought was ‘set-up’, but Jordi wouldn’t have bothered showing if that was the case. So this wasn’t business on any level, this was all pleasure. That meant he had to figure out what strange idea had taken Jordi this time, and figure it out fast, because Jordi’s ideas were almost always fun and dangerous in equal measure. Aiden might be the risk-taker of the two of them, but Jordi had his own wild streak.
“What’s in the box?” Aiden asked, turning his head slightly as a waiter walked into the room. Apparently, the meal was already set in stone. That explained the lack of menus.
“Chocolates. Fancy chocolates, specifically, but you don’t get to see them until I say so. It’s a surprise.” Jordi grinned and leaned back with his wine glass as the waiter carefully dished out an array of stuffed mushrooms and fingerling potatoes.
Aiden waited until he’d shut the door again to dig in. The food was good, but he was more focused on Jordi’s interest in it. There was too much focus on the plate for Aiden to think this was a normal dinner out, and Jordi had too much anticipation in his voice when he’d said the word ‘surprise’.
So the chocolates were integral to understanding this whole bizarre situation.
He thought about handing his drive over, but decided against it for the moment. If he tried to turn things towards business too quickly, Jordi would sulk over it—and that would mean waiting longer for the payoff of this dinner. Aiden was stuck biding his time, but that was fine. He could be patient.
He could be patient a lot more easily than Jordi could, that was for sure.
Fingerling potatoes and mushrooms, though. What an odd combination for Jordi to have picked. He wished he could identify spices and flavors more easily, but years of smoking had ruined whatever chance he’d had for that. Like the flowers, and the chocolates, it had to mean something. The question was what?
“How long did you have to wait for a reservation here?” he asked after a couple minutes of silence, still turning over all the clues he had in his head.
“Uh, I didn’t. I know the owners. They shifted a couple people around and opened a room for me.” Jordi’s voice was nonchalant, as if it were normal that he could walk into a place that catered to the rich and powerful and just… shuffle them around at his whimsy. Maybe it seemed normal for him. He’d never appeared to pay attention to class when he took jobs—Jordi liked killing too much to be picky about the people paying him to do it.
“Is that why you could get the menu waived too?” It was a risk, but a calculated one. By the way Jordi’s eyes crinkled at the corners, he was enjoying the fact that Aiden was playing along.
“Nah, all of this is the seasonal stuff they already have going. I just set the menu before you got here, so they could get it cooked up without worrying about when our orders were going to come in.”
If it was a seasonal menu, maybe Jordi hadn’t had many options to choose from. Somehow, Aiden doubted that was the case.
The waiter dropped off their soups and salads at the same time, leaving as swiftly as he’d entered. Discreet service seemed to be the selling point here—he’d refilled their glasses when he’d picked up the used plates, which meant they probably wouldn’t need anything else until the entree.
The soup was a bisque with lightly toasted breadsticks, and the salad was some house creation, candied walnuts and a sweet vinaigrette. Like the appetizers, both were delicious. Like the appetizers, Aiden had no idea why Jordi had picked them. The part that made the least sense was the breadsticks, because they’d clearly been crafted to shape, long and lightly buttered with garlic knots at the end. Which was an odd choice for a fancy restaurant, when it made them look so much like—
Aiden set his spoon down and leaned back in his chair. Jordi looked up, then grinned wider when he saw what Aiden was holding.
“Jordi,” he said, a lot more patiently than he felt right now, “they don’t serve breadsticks like this with the soup selection normally.”
“Ahhh, well, no. No, those are special, asked ‘em if they could manage it and my friend—who’s also the head chef, I might add—said he’d be happy to do it.” There was a note of childish glee in Jordi’s voice. Because Jordi was secretly five.
“Can I get my chocolates now, or are you going to make me wait until the entree?” Because if those chocolates were what he thought they were, Aiden was either going to cry or die laughing. He could go either way right now.
He’d played his hand just right, though. Jordi was clearly too excited to see his joke in action to wait another minute, and he stood up just long enough to grab the box. It was a lovely box, the gold foil contrasting with the pitch-black ribbon securing it closed. Expensive, and he bet the chocolates inside were expensive too.
They were also all, without fail, tiny penises. One had cracked, and was leaking white sugary filling in its divot.
Aiden carefully shut the box, setting it on one corner of the table. Then he slowly lowered his head into his hands, taking a few careful breaths. Little phallic potatoes, suggestive stuffed mushrooms, and goddamn dick-shaped breadsticks. It was so… Jordi. Painfully, wonderfully Jordi.
“That hardest part was figuring out how to say ‘suck my dick’ in flower language,” Jordi managed between snickers. It sounded like he was having a hard time keeping himself together.
Aiden wasn’t doing much better, if he was honest with himself.
“Yeah?” he said, voice tight. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to break into hysterical laughter, and that would ruin the game.
“It turns out flower symbology isn’t that specific, so I ended up with like four flowers that meant ‘passion’, one that was ‘lust’, and then this is my favorite: lime blossoms. Do you know what lime blossoms mean, Aiden?” Jordi was so close to breaking. He could hear it.
“What,” Aiden asked carefully, expression safely hidden by his hands, “do lime blossoms mean?”
“Fornication,” Jordi said, before bursting into cackles.
Aiden couldn’t help it. The laughter was so contagious, and it was such an absurd situation, there was no holding back. At least the room was silenced, or as close to silenced as it could be. No one outside would hear them.
Eventually, they managed to regain control of themselves. There were tears in his eyes, but Aiden wiped them away while Jordi carefully set the box of chocolates back next to the bouquet. The bouquet lovingly soliciting a blowjob from him. Jesus christ.
“The bread was a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Aiden asked when he was finally sure that his voice would hold.
“Oh man, wait until you see what they’ve done with the dessert. Dinner’s not quite as blatant though, just steak and potatoes. Really expensive steak and potatoes. Technically they’re little fried seed potatoes, supposed to be fucking delicious.”
Aiden thought about that, then groaned. “Meat and balls, Jordi, seriously? How long have you been planning this?”
“Like three weeks.” Jordi seemed completely at ease with admitting he was lying earlier. “The hardest part was the flowers, like I said. Most florists don’t do custom shit at the drop of a hat. Once I told my buddy what was up, he was all for it—it took him four days to get that bread to bake perfect, but it was so worth it. Earlier recipes had melted mozzarella in the center, but it didn’t work with the soup.”
“Jesus,” Aiden groaned, dragging a hand down his face and trying not to smile.
“I asked him if he could manage rocky mountain oysters, but apparently off-menu items were out of the question.” Jordi refilled his wine glass, then topped off Aiden’s for good measure.
“Yeah, I think he saved your bacon there. Might’ve ruined your chances.” He shook his head, picking up one of the breadsticks. Cheese filling. Only Jordi would manage to get a high-end restaurant to go along with his elaborate dick joke.
It gave him an idea, though. Jordi had clearly decided the game was over, digging into his salad with gusto. The punchline was out in the open now, and they did have business to go over—if nothing else, he needed the hard drive before he could decrypt it.
But that was something they could do over dessert. Aiden sipped at his wine, then asked, “About how long do they wait before coming in to swap courses?”
“Appetizers are timed to about ten minutes, salad and soups to fifteen, and entrees are about thirty or forty-five. They have a schedule so people who do business in these rooms don’t have to worry about someone overhearing something they shouldn’t.” Jordi flashed him a grin, then set his empty plate to the side.
Thirty minutes. He could work with thirty minutes. And if they ran a little over that… at least the tablecloth was long.
The waiter brought their steaks in a few moments later, whisking away the rest of the plates and disappearing. They were damn good steaks—filets, but so tenderly cooked that Jordi could nearly cut his with a fork alone. The potatoes didn’t look half bad either. But Aiden wasn’t going to let himself get distracted by the expensive food on display, not when he had a plan.
Jordi looked up when Aiden pushed out of his chair, brow furrowing in confusion. “What the hell are you—”
He cut himself off when Aiden flashed him a cocky grin and dropped to his knees, ducking under the table. It wasn’t the most comfortable position he’d ever been in, but the carpet was soft and he had a perfect view of Jordi’s legs. Which were almost perfectly a shoulder-width apart.
“Anticipating something?” Aiden asked dryly, as if he weren’t reaching for Jordi’s fly.
“Hope springs eternal,” Jordi said, a hand snaking underneath the tablecloth to bury itself in Aiden’s hair. Blunt nails dragged over his scalp, a single moment of pain that was soothed away almost instantly.
In the back of his head, Aiden had a timer going—thirty minutes before the waiter came back if he was unlucky. Forty five if he wasn’t. He tugged Jordi’s cock out, fingers curling around the shaft as he lazily palmed it. It’d be easier if he was turned on already, but Aiden had sprung this on him without warning.
“You could be a little more enthusiastic, at least,” he murmured, dragging his thumb up the shaft and following it with his lips. The fingers in his hair tightened, but didn’t make any move to stop him.
“Oh, believe me, I am one hundred percent focused on you right now.” There was a hint of strain in Jordi’s voice and his dick was rapidly hardening under Aiden’s attentions. He smiled, then took the head of it between his lips. There was a soft thud as Jordi’s fist hit the table, which only proved that this had been a good idea.
His tongue curled, hand shifting lower to grip the base of Jordi’s cock. Thirty minutes. That was plenty of time.
He took more of Jordi’s length into his mouth, his free hand braced against the man’s stomach as he leaned in. Aiden could feel the muscles there tensing as Jordi tried not to moan, hips twitching. There wasn’t anywhere for him to go though, and Aiden wasn’t about to give him even an inch.
Jordi’s hand was heavy on the back of his head, not quite trying to force him lower but putting pressure there all the same. It was tempting—too tempting—to go slower, tease him harder and see just how far he could push Jordi before he snapped. Just the idea of it was enough to make Aiden groan softly, fingers curling tighter around Jordi’s shaft as he slowly jacked him off.
“Fuck,” Jordi hissed, thumping the table again. “You fucker, I can’t believe you’re—don’t you dare stop. I will kill you.”
Empty threats meant he really must be getting to Jordi. Aiden hummed, enjoying the shudder he felt roll through Jordi’s body. His fingers flexed against Jordi’s stomach as he slowly pulled off of Jordi’s cock, dragging his tongue over the head of it as he listened to Jordi swear. He could see why the man got off on fucking with him now—it really did feel amazing to have someone fall to pieces just from a few touches.
Before Jordi could actually get violent, Aiden swallowed him down again, deeper this time as he pulled his hand out of the way. The hand in his hair was viciously tight, yanking hard enough to hurt as Jordi tried to force him down further.
He let it happen, let Jordi rock his hips and groan as he rocked into Aiden’s mouth. That timer was still ticking in the back of his head, reminding him that he couldn’t drag this out for as long as he wanted—even if the thought of someone walking in on them was more thrilling than it should be. There was a litany of curses coming from above him, Jordi’s voice low and ragged as he fucked into Aiden’s mouth like it was the only thing he could think of.
Jordi tensed, then groaned louder than he had since Aiden dropped to his knees, keeping him pinned as he came. Aiden sucked him dry, hands smoothing over Jordi’s thighs as he swallowed. Eventually, Jordi’s fingers went slack and he let Aiden pull his head free, his thumb running over the edge of his jaw.
“Jesus, Aiden. I could kiss you right now, but, y’know.” Jordi’s voice was shaky. Aiden would have killed for a picture of his face, but the tablecloth blocked his view.
“Coward.” He turned his head to press a kiss to Jordi’s palm anyways, then slowly sat back. Of course, now he was hard, and there was no way he’d be able to hide coming in his pants from the restaurant full of people outside. If he could get a blowjob in return… but that was pretty firmly off the table.
“Wouldn’t go with the meal,” Jordi said, then tapped his shoe against Aiden’s knee. “C’mon, get up here and eat. I’ll give you a handie after the dessert course, how about that?”
“How romantic of you, Jordi,” Aiden said dryly, but the plush carpet wasn’t plush enough to be comfortable for long. He scooted out from under the table, taking the offered hand and hauling himself up to his feet.
There was a flush across Jordi’s cheeks still, and a pink stain on the tablecloth from his wineglass—one of those thumps must have nearly knocked the glass over. Aiden grinned at the sight, feeling a flush of heat run through him, but didn’t move forward. Instead, he carefully sat down again and poked at his steak.
It was cool to the touch now, but still cut easily. He’d take it.
“You’re a bit of a freak, you know that?” There was nothing but admiration in that question, admiration and honest approval. Not that he’d expected anything different from a guy who tried to say ‘blow me’ in flower language.
Aiden grinned, then ate a bite of his steak. “That’s bold, coming from the guy who got a first-class chef to make bread dildos for him. Technically speaking, I’ve put fewer dicks in my mouth during this meal than you have.”
Jordi opened his mouth, then frowned and looked at his steak. He could see the math playing out behind the other man’s eyes, and could see the moment Jordi realized he was right. “Son of a bitch, you’re right. I hate it when you’re right.”
He managed to finish his dinner before the waiter came back with their desserts. And when Aiden saw what the chef had done with the cannolis and whipped cream, he nearly laughed himself sick all over again.