10. 10

Where it went, Joq thought a few weeks later, was back to his place where they fucked on his couch like the world was ending and continued to fuck in the same manner at every available opportunity.

He didn't hate it, he thought with amusement when Chris found him in his kitchen after one particular night of marathon fucking, leaned back into the feel of those lips tracing a path down his nape, the warm hands on his bare torso caressing him gently.

"Yeah?" Chris asked against his ear.

After, as they sat on the kitchen floor and caught their breaths, Joq thought Chris always looked at him afterwards like he was afraid, like he was waiting for something.

"Why do you do that?" he asked between breaths.

"What?" Chris panted and ran a hand up Joq's bare thigh.

"Look at me like that?"

Chris stopped moving his hand and glanced away.

"Because I like you," Chris replied and Joq knew they both knew he'd understood the question and evaded.

"I'm not going to bail again," Joq said anyway. "I'd talk to you."

"Yeah," Chris swallowed and stood. "I know."

He reached down for Joq and took his hand, yanked him to his feet.

"Breakfast?" he asked after he kissed him.

"Yeah," Joq replied and pulled away to shower and get ready.

Chris let him go, and Joq decided to let him keep his secrets. He had secrets of his own.

Joq woke up with a searing pain in one of his wisdom teeth. He was sitting up, rubbing his jaw when he felt Chris roll over and run a hand up and down his back.

"You okay?" Chris mumbled into the predawn light.

"Mm, don't know," Joq said and worked his jaw—the throbbing was down in the root.

Chris sat up behind him. "What is it?"

"Tooth," Joq replied and leaned into his touch. He realised he didn't have a dentist anymore. Well, he did, but she'd been on George's health insurance, which Joq had been on, and not only was he no longer on that plan, he didn't want to go anywhere near something he'd shared with George.

Just thinking about him while he sat up in Chris' bed pissed him off.

"You need to go to emergency?" Chris asked sounding a lot more awake.

"Uh, uh," Joq shook his head. It'd keep for a few hours. He did need to find a dentist though. He reclined back and reached for his phone.

Chris moved with him, propped his head in his hand and ran his other hand up and down Joq's torso while Joq googled dentists near the CBD.

"You don't have a dentist?" Chris asked.

Joq thought about his annual check-ups with Anna Hernandez in her pristine office in Toorak for over ten years; even with her two brief stints on maternity leave, she'd remained his dentist.

"Retired," Joq said.

Chris rested his hand on Joq's hip, drummed his fingers. Joq swore Chris had some kind of sixth sense for his lies and half-truths, but fucked if he was getting into it.

"Use mine," Chris replied and rolled away to grab his phone.

"I can get my own," Joq said, suddenly wanting nothing more. He wanted his own dentist on his own insurance plan, his own place that was all his, his own furniture, utensils, and fucking cat. He had all of the above, but it suddenly felt imperative he get up and go back to it all.

Chris stopped him with a hand on his hip. Joq was about to tell him firmly but calmly he'd see him later when Chris' hopeful yet cautious smile stopped him.

"He's really good, I promise," Chris said.

Joq deflated in the face of that smile. He prattled off his insurance company.

"He probably takes them," Chris replied and typed something into his phone. "Should be able to get first available."

"Just give me the contact."

Chris hesitated. "He's got a waitlist."

"Oh," Joq nodded and went back to his phone. "This won't wait."

"But he'll fit me in, promise," Chris was smiling again.

"I can get my own."

Chris' phone pinged.

"It's five in the morning," Joq said because surely that wasn't the dentist.

"He's got one of those services," Chris mumbled looking at his phone. "Eight." He tossed his phone back on the bed and got up. "I'll get you some painkillers."

Joq watched the planes in his bare back shift as Chris scooped his pants off the chaise at the end of the bed, his eyes dropping to the firm muscles of his ass before it disappeared under the material.

And he was out the door, his footfalls soft on the wooden floorboards as he went down the stairs.

Even if he had a service, how would it know to fit Joq in to an already packed schedule?

Chris smiled at him when he came back with a glass of chilled water and some, "Panadeine forte," he said as he dropped them in Joq's open palm. "Hurt my back skiing last year."

Joq's tooth and jaw throbbed and he decided it wasn't worth asking about the dentist or the ski trip.

Three hours later, he was sitting in the waiting room, the pain dulled, the dentist greeting him personally and replying effusively when Joq thanked him for squeezing him, "Anything for Chris. If you can give me a minute to set up?"

Joq nodded and tried to smile, but it hurt.

The dentist disappeared and Joq picked up the top magazine—a shiny copy of the Financial Times.

He had to blink a few times at the cover photo.

It was Chris.

Christopher McLachlan to be specific.

What in the fuck was Chris doing on the cover of the Financial Times looking incredible and foreboding in a three-piece suit?

Joq flicked to the article, a weird ringing in his ears.

He scanned it and got the gist—Chris was Christopher McLachlan, sole heir to the fucking McLachlan fortune. Joq had heard of them, of course he had, they were one of the wealthiest families in Australia, more in name than actuality in recent years, until Chris had leveraged some of their assets to launch one of the biggest tech platforms in the world. The article was about his refusal to accept an eye-watering sum from an American tech company to take them over.

Joq closed the magazine carefully, stood up, pressed his hand to his jaw and walked out.

Delia was on one of his pillows when he opened the door to his bedroom. She gave a low growl.

"You're going to have to deal," he said and approached the bed slowly, lay down like a plank, his head on the other pillow, and prepared to have his face ripped off by the still growling cat. He was in so much pain, he almost welcomed it.

He closed his eyes and receded into the throbbing in his tooth, a touchstone at the centre of whatever this numb feeling was. Delia's growling stopped and he felt her relax and sink into the pillow beside his head.

Well, progress, he thought amidst the shock.

He didn't give a shit about the money, though it was hard not to think about the money—that was a lot of money, like, fuck you and fuck everyone and fuck the next few generations money—he was more alarmed by the celebrity aspect, the potential spotlight, which meant the potential hiding.

Never again.

Not to mention the fact Chris had never told him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He'd put it on silent since it started ringing on the tram on the way back and hadn't ceased. It fell still and he breathed through the pain. It was a lot of pain.

He wriggled until he could get his phone out, ignored the missed calls and clicked over to his remaining two favourite contacts since he'd deleted George's number as his third after George had blocked him. He hit call.

"Joaquin, how are you? Everything alright?" his dad asked, sounding more curious than surprised—it made sense, Joq always called his mum, his other favourite contact.

"Not really, I need your help. I've got this toothache, I think it's an abscess and I need—"

"I'll be right there," his dad cut in. "Need me to bring anything? Maybe some of your mum's painkillers?"

He could hear him moving around and for the first time in a long time, he felt his eyes heat. "Thanks, Dad."

"Hey," his dad stopped. "You alright?"

Joq cleared his throat. "Yeah, just," he coughed to stop whatever the fuck that was. "Yeah."

"Alright, hang in there, I'm on my way."

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

He hung up, closed his eyes and focused on breathing.

Delia started purring.

Joq smiled. Maybe she just wanted some company after all.

"Come on," his dad said when they pulled up at his place after Joq had his tooth extracted by his parents' dentist. The man was ancient, but he was ‘the best,' his dad had told him and then asked why Joq hadn't just gone to him in the first place.

"Good question," Joq replied around the pain.

But it was done. His jaw was so swollen he could barely speak without sounding like he'd had a stroke. At least he was blissed out on painkillers.

Then he saw the car. A latest model BMW SUV.

"For fuck's sake," he mumbled, but it came out garbled.

"Alright?" his dad asked as he got Joq's meds, juice, ice-cream, and a heat and ice-pack he'd insisted on buying at the chemist.

"Just drop me off, I'll be fine," Joq enunciated carefully.

His dad was too friendly to pull off a snarky look—that was all his mum—but he did manage to look sufficiently incredulous.

"I'll get you settled," he replied like that was the end of it and Joq sighed.

He followed his dad out and prepared for the impending car crash. At least he was high.

Chris was leaning against his door, looking down at his phone, one hand tucked into his suit pants, his jacket tucked back artfully under his hand, his beautiful face contorted with a frown. He looked up as soon as Joq and his dad emerged on the landing.

"Joaquin," he breathed in relief. "Are you alright?" He straightened and came over to them and looked at Joq's dad. "Hello," he said curiously and extended his hand. "Chris."

Joq's dad took his hand and shook it. "Jim. Joq's dad," he replied equally curious.

"I'm fine," Joq said and went for his door. He couldn't be bothered trying to get the words out.

"Oh, it's so nice to meet you," Chris was saying, "I didn't expect it to be like this, but it's great. I'm Chris, Joaquin's boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" his dad asked.

Joq groaned and unlocked his door.

Delia was on the other side and as Joq walked in, she wound between his legs, purring, rubbing, and he wondered if all it took to get her to warm up to him was barging into her space.

"We didn't know Joaquin was seeing anyone," his dad said from behind them.

"Yes, well, it's new, and I'm not sure what happened this morning…"

Joq went into his lounge room and sat on the couch. He held his jaw, felt his dad and Chris come into the room and hover. Delia hopped up onto the cushion and sat next to him.

"Can you give us a sec," he directed at his dad. He sounded muffled.

"Of course," he replied and went into the kitchen. Joq knew he could still hear them.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Chris asked and came closer.

Joq expected Delia to growl and warn him off, but when he glanced at her, he saw she was busy clawing the couch and getting comfortable.

"Not now," Joq managed.

Chris' face flitted through a series of emotions—he looked like he wanted to speak, swallowed it down, and settled on looking hurt.

"You said you wouldn't just bail," Chris said softly.

Joq rolled his eyes. "You're Christopher McLachlan."

Chris flinched, but he said, "I thought you knew that."

What a fucking lie.

"I won't date a celebrity," Joq replied firmly, or, tried to. It was difficult to sound angry when he sounded like a stroke victim and he knew his dad was listening.

Chris looked surprised. "I'm not a celebrity."

Joq gave him a disbelieving look.

"Not really," Chris mumbled. He blew out a breath and tucked both hands in his pockets. "And why not?"

"I won't be your secret. Never again," he said. Fuck his painkillers to hell and back—he just opened that door.

But Chris looked surprised. "Secret? I don't want to keep you a secret. I'd take you everywhere if you'd let me."

Joq groaned. He couldn't deal with him right now.

"Can we do this later?" he said and rubbed his jaw.

"Is your dad going to stay with you?"

"Probably."

Chris nodded, he was looking around the room, looking lost; he also wasn't leaving.

"When he leaves, I'll come back," he said firmly.

"No need," Joq said but Chris was already going into the kitchen.

Joq closed his eyes with a groan as he listened to Chris politely giving Joq's dad his number, asking him to call when he had to go—"Anytime, really, I'll come back"—and Joq just wanted everyone to go.

He felt Chris come back in. He was close.

"If the only problem is a secret, I'd never do that," he said haltingly.

Joq shook his head, cracked his eyes open.

It wasn't just the secret. It was the unevenness of it. And the lies.

There was a clatter in the kitchen and Joq said, "Not now."

"Later then," Chris replied immediately. "I'll come back later."

Then he was fidgeting and not leaving.

"Fine," Joq conceded.

Chris smiled, nodded; at least he still looked chastised. "I'll see you later."

He leaned down and damn it all but the feel of his lips on Joq's cheekbone and his hair wisping over Joq's face made his heart pound.

"I'll be back," Chris said against his ear. "Get some rest."

Joq couldn't speak.

Chris pulled back and Joq watched him leave with one last look over his shoulder and a troubled smile.

His dad reappeared.

"Well," he said cheerfully. "Wait until your mother hears about this."

Joq groaned.

"I'm joking," he handed Joq a bowl of ice-cream. "Though he does seem like a nice boy."

"Ugh," Joq took the ice-cream.

His dad settled into the armchair and watched him thoughtfully.

"What?"

"I know we don't talk like you and your mother do."

Joq groaned again, but ate his ice-cream. It was incredible.

"And I know we don't talk about George," his dad went on carefully after a moment.

Joq winced.

"And I liked George, you know that," his dad said still so very careful.

Joq did know that. They got along exceptionally well, understood each other, came from the same professional sporting world.

"But your mother was right, he wasn't good enough for you," he finished gruffly.

Joq swallowed his mouthful. "You never said that."

"No," he replied. "Not to you."

To his mum then.

"You weren't just agreeing to keep the peace?"

His dad chuckled. "There's no peace to be had with that woman, it's why I love her." He turned serious. "No, Joaquin, between your mother and I, we knew it wasn't right. I just played devil's advocate for your sake. You loved him and I didn't think your mother constantly pointing out that he wasn't treating you right was helpful. It's your life…"

"But?" Joq asked when he stopped talking.

"But I think you'd be a fool to let grieving over that mistake prevent you from moving forward. This one seems alright."

"He's a billionaire."

"And that's a bad thing?" his dad grinned.

"He didn't tell me."

His dad shrugged. "Maybe he knew it'd scare you off. You and your mother, well, let's just say you're very good at seeming unapproachable."

Joq huffed. He didn't feel like that on the inside. He wasn't sure what he felt on the inside after George and Finn, after what he did to Finn.

"I don't mean to be," he mumbled and felt his eyes heat again.

"Hey, it's not a bad thing," his dad said gruffly, "it's very appealing," he finished with a joking smile.

Joq laughed.

"Maybe just give this one a chance. If not for him, for you."

"I'm doing alright," Joq said and finished his ice-cream. "No need to worry about me."

"I don't, but your mother does."

Joq shook his head.

"Now, get some rest, I'm going to call her back, then call this Chris fellow, what do you think?"

"Ugh," Joq replied, sank into the cushions and waved his hand in acquiescence.

His dad laughed and Joq listened to him talking to his mum, assuring her Joq was fine, and that yes, he was okay to come home because Joq had a new ‘friend' and yes, he seemed like a nice boy, and no he did not strike him as the type like the other one.

"Can I call him?" his dad asked after he'd hung up. "I can stay if you'd prefer, it's really no problem. I'd like to get to know this cat."

Joq's dad smiled fondly at Delia.

"I'm probably going to fall asleep."

"Go ahead, I'll stay until you do," his dad replied and Joq was grateful he didn't push. He was too tired to deal with Chris right now. Maybe after a nap and when he could speak properly again.

The last thing he heard before he dozed off was his dad's awkward voice asking Chris if he planned to mess Joq around and if so, maybe it was best he didn't come back.

Joq woke to Chris' face hovering over his. He startled.

"Sorry," Chris whispered and leaned back. "Just wanted to make sure you were breathing."

"I am," Joq replied, disorientated.

"Bed?"

"Holiday," Joq said.

Chris grinned at him. He was braced over Joq with a hand on the back of the couch and one near his hip. "You want a holiday?"

"Ugh," Joq said and rubbed his eyes.

"Good drugs?" Chris asked, still grinning. "Or you really do want a holiday? I could take a holiday."

"Bed first," Joq tried to sit up. He slumped back on the cushion and closed his eyes.

Chris laughed, a soft huff between them. "Yeah, I don't think I'll be powering up the jet right now."

Joq groaned at the reminder.

"But we could if you really want to go. Sometimes you just need to get away."

Joq opened his eyes and squinted. Chris looked thoughtful.

"I could move some things around."

Joq started laughing, it was slow at first, but then his chest was rocking with it.

"What?" Chris asked. "Where do you want to go?"

"Thailand," Joq replied with a smile, he couldn't help it. His voice had returned to normal. He rubbed his jaw.

"Do you need painkillers? And Thailand we can do. Bangkok? Koh Samui? Or do you want to head north and stay in Chiang Mai?"

"I need to book leave first," Joq replied, surprised he was even having this conversation.

Chris opened his mouth, closed it.

"What?"

"Nothing," Chris smiled again.

"No, what," Joq wanted Chris to stop doing that—he wanted him to come out and say whatever it was he kept guarding.

Chris rubbed Joq's hip tentatively and looked at his hand. "It's going to sound bad."

"How bad? Now you have to say it."

"I was just going to say," he flicked his eyes up, "you could quit work if you want."

Joq scoffed and woke right up. "Jesus, I'm not even going to answer that. I'm not quitting my job for a guy who could decide to ditch me next week. Never again." He was obviously still drug addled to say that again.

"You've done that before?"

"No," Joq replied and sat up. Chris moved back with the movement, but kept one hand on Joq's hip. He wondered where Delia was. Probably in his bed, where he needed to be. "I'm going to bed."

"Okay, I'll get you some painkillers," he replied easily, but Joq did not miss the curious look. "And when you wake up, we can book a trip to Thailand." He was moving around in the kitchen when Joq shuffled past and still talking. "I haven't been to Thailand in ages."

Joq ignored him. He undid his pants once he was in his room. Delia was on the pillow. He shoved his pants down, pulled off his shirt and got on the side opposite her.

Chris came in, his feet soft on the carpet. "Here you go," he said gently, a repeat of that morning. It'd only been a day and Joq felt like he'd lived a lifetime of drama. This is why he didn't want a boyfriend.

But as Chris sat at his hip and rubbed his back over the covers Joq thought, well, this was pretty damn nice too.

Joq rolled over to sunshine blaring on his face.

"You're awake?" Chris grinned down at him.

He was sitting up against the headboard, phone in one hand, Delia on his lap while he patted her with the other hand. She was purring.

"What time is it?" he asked. He rubbed his jaw and winced.

"Almost lunchtime and here," Chris leaned over, careful not to dislodge Delia as he reached for painkillers, handed them to Joq, then reached back for the glass of juice.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Joq asked as he sat up and took the glass.

"Day off to look after my sick partner," Chris replied, his eyes dropping around a pleased smile after he said it.

Joq took the pills, drank all the juice in one go and handed the glass back. He dropped back onto the pillow and closed his eyes.

"You're famous," he said.

"Not really," Chris replied.

"So if I Google you, nothing will come up?" Joq asked and opened his eyes. "‘Cos if you Google me, nothing will come up."

Chris tapped the edge of his phone but didn't reply.

"Type your name in and show me," Joq said.

Chris rubbed his forehead with his wrist, hand still clutching the phone. "The person who comes up is not me."

"So, you're not an heir to one of the wealthiest families in the country and a billionaire tech CEO?" Joq asked.

"No, I am, but, I think," he dropped his hand and looked at Joq. He was rumpled like he'd slept in his clothes, hair a tousled mess, but his eyes were clear, warm yet nervous where he looked at Joq. "I think, it's not relevant. You said I'd keep you secret? I'd never do that. I don't want to do that. I'm not in the closet. So if that's the only problem, there's no problem."

"But you lied about it," Joq sat up.

"No," Chris countered, giving Joq room, "I never said anything because I didn't know if you already knew. And besides, it's not exactly something that's easily worked into a conversation without sounding like a complete tool, ‘hey, by the way, I'm a billionaire, will you stop ghosting me now?'"

Joq winced.

"Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, it's fine. I shouldn't have done that but this is a separate issue."

"What is the issue?" Chris asked.

And his phone rang.

Joq watched him silence it, lean over and shove it into the bedside table drawer. When he rolled back he met Joq's eyes with a serious expression.

"Tell me the problem so I can fix it," he said sternly, but with a hint of vulnerability.

Joq blew out a breath. "You can't fix it. You'll always have more than me, be more than me." He kicked off the covers and got up. "You'll always have power over me."

"That's not fair," Chris replied and Joq heard him apologising to Delia as he got up too. "And in case you haven't noticed," he went on as he trailed after Joq, "you're the one with all the power here, bailing all the time."

Joq scoffed. He put the kettle on and pulled down two mugs.

"You run and I chase," Chris was standing in the kitchen and Joq looked down at his bare feet rolling on the tiles. He had really nice feet—slender with long toes, runner's feet. Everything about him was nice, which was the problem; Joq could fall and fall for him and end up with another uncashed, insulting settlement payment for half a million dollars. Only this time, it'd probably be a million. He rubbed his face and sighed. How was this his life? How did he end up with these guys?

"You can have literally anyone else," he said as the kettle pinged and he made their coffees. "A million guys would want this, but I just can't do this again."

"You keep saying again, did you date a billionaire before?"

Joq laughed, he couldn't help it—Chris asked like that was a genuine question—were there that many young, hot gay billionaires out there in Melbourne?

"No," he said as he got the oat milk out of the fridge. "I can't do uneven again."

"What's so uneven about it? And also, I don't want anyone else, I want you, so don't give me this shit about how I can have anyone. That's a useless point in this argument."

Joq handed him his coffee.

"Thank you," Chris said.

"This is not an argument," he replied and grabbed his own coffee. "This is," he waved his hand as he took a sip, "this is us downgrading."

"What does that mean?"

Joq sipped. "It means, I'm not doing this."

"You're breaking up with me? Already?" Chris put his mug down. "Seriously?"

"We can still sleep together," Joq replied. He felt oddly calm. Probably because he was adamant on this point—he wasn't going to get fucked over by a power imbalance ever again. But a part of him didn't want to let Chris go either. This felt like a good compromise.

"I," Chris started, stopped, he dropped his gaze, "I have no fucking idea how to fix this," he said on a breath. He sounded really cut up about it. Joq felt like shit for that, he really did, but what was he supposed to do here?

Joq was about to apologise when Chris straightened, face clearing. "I'm going to figure this out," he said and picked up his coffee.

"There's nothing to figure out," Joq replied and sipped his coffee. "We can fuck around, but that's as far as it goes."

Chris's face crumpled briefly, but then he smiled, young and sure of himself. "Do you like me?"

"I like fucking you," Joq said.

"What about hanging out with me? Do you like my company?"

Joq narrowed his eyes. "Yes, that's not the issue—"

"Then I'll figure it out," Chris repeated and drank his coffee.

"Don't go selling all your shit or something insane."

Chris almost choked, swallowed, and coughed around his laughter. "Okay, but there's got to be a way."

"You weren't going to," Joq rolled his eyes and placed his mug in the sink, headed for the shower.

"No, of course not," Chris said and did the same, trailed after him, "I can't do poor, but I can figure a way out of this."

"Well, knock yourself out. In the meantime, if you want to get laid, I'm in, but not right now," Joq pulled his shirt off, went into the bathroom and left the door open.

Chris followed him in, but made no moves to get undressed as Joq got his pants off and turned the shower on.

"You feel like Thai food for lunch?" Chris asked; he'd been suspiciously quiet for a while. "A soup would be good for you."

Joq rinsed off.

"Yeah, alright."

"Sweet, I'll order it," Chris replied and Joq could hear him smiling as he left the bathroom.

He got out, dried off and wondered what Chris would do next.

What Chris did next was not much. A couple of weeks went by and they spent every night together, alternating between each of their places but always dropping by Joq's to make sure Delia was alright. They went out for dinner and Chris not so subtly encouraged Joq to pay on every second "date", even though Joq saw it pained him to do so when they went to an exclusive restaurant and the bill was hundreds of dollars.

Chris also invited him to his office and introduced him to Terry, his assistant.

"This is Terry," he said, his demeanour shifting from the endearingly soft lunatic Joq thought he was, to an affable yet closed off authoritarian, "my assistant. If you ever need me but can't get in touch, call Terry and she'll get me."

"Nice to meet you," he said to her and shook her hand as she stood.

"Joaquin," she smiled politely. "Nice to meet you too."

"Anytime at all, Terry will put us in touch," Chris reiterated.

"Uh, okay," Joq replied because he wasn't sure what was going on here, but he had a feeling it had something to do with being even—rich people could, after all, cut themselves off from others if they wanted to. See George's lawyer showing up on the doorstep of their shared home of ten years to kick Joq out and Joq not seeing him again until George deigned it was necessary.

"No matter what happens," he went on.

Even Terry was looking at him strangely now—she hid it well, just a slight raise of an eyebrow, but she replied smoothly, "Of course."

"Right, good, lunch?" Chris asked Joq.

And they left, Joq feeling a tad bewildered, but oddly better.

It was a week later when Joq had to concede the shoe he was waiting for to drop wasn't dropping. They were stretched out on the sun loungers in Chris' courtyard, drinking an incredible bottle of merlot Chris had brought out of his wine cellar when Joq noticed he was acting the way he did when he wanted to ask something but was working himself up to it—he'd look at Joq, then look away; get up, get more snacks or wine or anything they didn't really need and come back, run a hand through his hair and sit down, saying nothing.

So, the shoe was about to drop.

"Out with it," he finally said after Chris came out with more olives when they hadn't even eaten the current plate of olives.

Chris huffed a nervous laugh. "Sorry, I just wanted to ask you something."

"Go on," Joq pushed his sunnies up.

"Okay," Chris sobered. "The last few weeks we've been together, right? Like, not just sleeping together, but together?"

"Yeah," Joq sighed.

Chris laughed, nervous. "And you're okay with it. You seem okay with it."

"I can't promise I'll always be okay with it," he said after a while. "But, yeah."

"But if we stay like this? We're together all the time and the only thing I'd like to ask is, if you'd let me, I'd like to," he shook his head.

Joq's curiosity was piqued.

Chris met his eyes, he was so damn nervous it was making Joq nervous.

"I do have more money than you," he said quickly, "and sometimes I'd like to, you know, do stuff for you with that."

"Like what?"

"Well, take that holiday for a start."

"We can still do that without breaking the bank—"

"I've got a jet. The resort I want to book is exclusive. I want to buy a place in Brighton and move in together," he said and stood. "We'd still be even in every other way, but I think we should be able to live a certain lifestyle without you being threatened."

Joq sat right up. "I'm not threatened. I just don't want you to think you can own me and then discard me."

Chris laughed. Joq frowned up at him. He didn't get why that was funny.

"Joaquin," he said with a smile, "believe me, no one can own you."

And, well, the way he said it—completely honest—Joq could live with that.

"You have a jet?"

"Of course," Chris replied. "You want to see it?" he asked playfully.

"Yeah, I think I would."