11. 11

Chris stepped out of the limousine into the Thai sunshine. He looked at Joq beside him in his crisp white shirt, tailored shorts and aviators, the relaxed smile as he met Chris' eyes and thought this was a bloody great idea. It'd taken until summer to get here—turned out, according to Brendan, he could not just "take a bloody month off out of the blue"—but when Chris told him haltingly he really wanted to try and make it work with Joaquin, Brendan fast-tracked a few things, promised he'd be in touch sparingly if he needed Chris' signature, and got him his month off.

He'd asked, in the world's most awkward display of caring, if Chris was going to be okay for a whole month with his "problem."

"I think it's gone," he'd replied, face heating, nerves thrumming because he didn't want to jinx it, but it simply wasn't happening. He theorised that all it must've taken was being in love with the person he was fucking—who would've thought?

"I'm glad, man," Brendan had said and slapped him on the back.

And now here he was, a month off, an exclusive bungalow with a private beach booked, and plans to marathon fuck Joq until he lost enough sense to agree to let Chris buy them the Brighton place, move in together and renovate.

"I'll check us in," Chris said as he came up beside Joq, squeezed his hip. "Go have a drink."

Joq smiled up at him. "See you at the pool bar."

Chris returned the smile, itching to take Joq to their room, but let him go with another firm press of his fingers into his skin. He watched Joq stroll through the lobby towards the pool like he knew the place before heading to check them in.

He ordered champagne for the room and glanced over at a guy down the counter checking out. He looked vaguely familiar—about Chris' height, similar colouring, but his biceps were like something out of a fitness magazine. Chris wondered if he was some kind of athlete and that's where he recognised him from.

"We bring the champagne now?"

"Yes, thank you," Chris returned to the man checking him in. The champagne could chill while they got down to business.

He found Joq standing near the pool.

"You haven't had a drink yet?" Chris asked as he walked up.

Joq startled, tore his eyes away from the lobby.

"Not yet," Joq smiled; it was strained.

"Wanna go to the bungalow then? I've ordered champagne," Chris suggested, but he was wondering what the hell happened between checking in and now—Joq looked like he'd seen a ghost. "Everything alright?" he asked once they were moving.

"Yeah, great," Joq breathed out.

It did not feel great. Chris slipped his arm around Joq's waist and felt him tense. Chris had that uncomfortable feeling—did he leave his arm where it was or pull away? He knew how he felt when guys did this to him after he was finished with them.

He dropped his arm, put a careful space between them and went to the room in silence.

Things did not improve in the room. Joq took the glass of champagne the waiting attendant poured them, and went straight out onto the deck, the ocean lapping all around them, the private beach stretching behind them a short walk away via the little stretch of a quaint wooden jetty, lush rainforest closing them in from the world.

It should've been paradise, but looking at Joq standing out there, his whole demeanour closed off and screaming at Chris to stay back, well, Chris thought this was what hell must've felt like. Maybe he deserved it after what he did to all those guys.

Still, he hadn't done anything now, he was pretty sure.

Fuck it.

He went out. Joq downed his champagne in one go.

Chris was about to ask what happened but what came out was, "I'll get you another one."

He took the glass and dutifully did so. As he handed it back, Joq met his eyes, his expression blank except for that haunted look Chris had seen once before.

"I need to tell you something," Joq said.

"Okay," Chris replied, his heart pounding.

"Only, I'm afraid when I do, you'll want me gone. So, I can change my flight if you give me the booking number; it's okay if they downgrade it," Joq swigged on the champagne.

Chris wished he'd insisted on the jet rather than conceding to first class—Joq felt the jet was too much just yet; but if Joq needed to go home, the jet would be better. He could arrange one. Then he caught up to the rest of what Joq was implying—that Chris would want him gone? Why?

"Of course, I can fly economy," Joq finished.

"Did you fuck someone else?" Chris blurted.

Joq flinched, but his gaze was incredulous. "No, why do you always think that?"

Chris shrugged. His dad fucked around on his mum constantly, it was his very painful go to. He wasn't saying that. Besides, it hadn't been until he got himself a boyfriend. Now, between his fears over his bloody problem and low-key worrying he was getting cheated on, he was a bit of a wreck. Joq's calm demeanour normally soothed him, but right now, Joq wasn't calm, he was so far away Chris wondered if he'd ever reach him.

"It's my biggest fear," he said. "You'll meet someone else, someone you want straight away."

"I wish I hadn't met you," Joq replied, "never mind meet someone else."

Chris raised both eyebrows. How in the fuck was he supposed to take that?

"That come out wrong," Joq shook his head. "I mean," he blew out a breath and looked at the ocean, "you'll get what I mean. Back there? In the lobby? That was my ex."

Chris frowned. "The sporty looking guy?"

"Yeah, George, George Creed, he's an AFL player, was," Joq went on. "And that was his husband with him."

"Who?" Chris didn't see another guy but he was beginning to remember why he recognised the guy at the counter; he knew who Joq was talking about—they'd been all over the news a year ago when they came out and got married.

"You dated that guy?" Chris asked.

Joq scoffed. "I fucking lived with him for over ten years."

"But," Chris was confused, "you must've been broken up for a while. When we met, you were on that app. You were looking for a hook-up."

Joq looked at him then, squinted. "I can't believe you remember this apparent day so well."

"Of course I remember, I went back looking for you, even looked for you on the app but you must've blocked me," Chris was still embarrassed by the memory.

"If I met you and blocked you it was because I liked you," Joq replied evenly.

"What?"

"I'd never cheat on George. If I blocked you, it's ‘cos I liked you."

"If you had a boyfriend, why were you on the app in the first place?"

"We had an open relationship," Joq said like that explained everything.

Chris' lips parted. That's why Joq had asked about that. "I can't do that."

"I don't want you to," Joq said reassuringly but also in a tone of voice that implied he didn't understand how the hell this conversation ended up here. "And it's not the point right now, probably won't even matter in a few minutes because once you know what I did you're going to end this."

"I doubt it, what did you do?"

Joq looked back out at the ocean. Then he proceeded to calmly tell Chris about him and that footy player, about how George didn't want to be out because he didn't want to be known as the ‘gay footy player', but he was happy to do open to soften the blow. Only, George never fucked around until a new rookie arrived on the team.

"Long story short," Joq said, "he fucked Finn, fell in love and denied that."

"Asshole," Chris said.

Joq shrugged. "The heart wants what it wants I guess, but yeah, it sucked, if he just had of told me then we could've, I dunno, broken up amicably. Or, well, amicably enough. But he kept fucking lying, to himself, to me, so I just, I fucking snapped."

Chris wasn't judging Joq's physical prowess or anything, but looking at those two footy players? He couldn't imagine Joq's snapping would do much damage.

"Well, you were hurt," Chris said calmly even though he was jealous at the thought of Joq liking that guy that much. Not to mention fucking him. Guy was built, hot, looked like he could really give it to someone. To Joq.

"I don't think hurt is a good enough reason to threaten a kid with extortion," Joq replied.

Chris had to parse that out. Once he did, he frowned. "What was your leverage?"

Joq startled a laugh. He met Chris' eyes. Chris watched him back steadily. Maybe Joq had an even better business mind than he'd realised.

"I had footage of them fucking around in the showers. I threatened to out George, and well, Finn too, but it was George who would've been damaged, I don't think Finn cared about being out," he said steadily enough, but he was twisting his empty glass in his hands as he went on, "I told him to break it off with George or I'd do it."

Chris whistled.

"I wouldn't have done it, but, fuck," Joq said with more animation than Chris had ever heard, "I threatened a kid. Finn was twenty, a kid. And he just, he just broke. It was horrible. I'm fucking horrible."

"Okay," Chris said as coolly as he could because while he wasn't too scandalised—he'd grown up the sole heir to one of the wealthiest families in the country and now the world, so he'd been prepared for the possibility of extortion or kidnapping from a young age. "Extortion is better," his grandfather used to say calmly.

But maybe for a young footy player it'd be different.

"Okay," he said again while Joq stared at him; he looked like he was about to walk out the door. "So, you lived with this guy for ten years, he fell in love with a hook-up, and you threatened to out your boyfriend if his boyfriend didn't break it off?"

"Yeah, and you're right, Finn was his boyfriend. God, I was so fucking stupid, and that's the other part," he shook his head bitterly, "they were together, practically the whole fucking season. And for years before that they were texting and calling and I was just so fucking angry."

"You must've really loved him," Chris said quietly after they'd both said nothing.

But Joq just laughed. "You know, the more I think about it, I don't think I did. That little fucker is right."

"About?"

"About us, me and George, he was never mine, I mean, look what happened? He hides me for twelve years and then fucking marries that kid within a month of properly getting together. Did you see the fucking pictures? A Vogue wedding, Jesus."

It was hard to miss the pictures. But, "I don't read Vogue," Chris replied.

Joq laughed. Then he sobered. "Do you want me to go?"

"No? Of course not, why would I want you to go?"

"Did you hear what I just did?"

"Joq," Chris approached him carefully, slid his arm around his waist and tugged him in, "you didn't actually do anything."

"I did, if you saw Finn's face," Joq shuddered. "I don't like the guy, not one bit, but he didn't deserve that. I was just so angry at George. And it's this shame, this fucking shame and anger and I can't get away from them. The constant news and then Finn's fucking here."

Chris pulled him close, relieved Joq was allowing it. He pulled back so he could study Joq's face. "But this guy, he fucked your boyfriend like he wanted more, didn't he?"

Joq's face flashed with a scary amount of anger. "Yes."

"And he knew about you?"

"Knew about me," Joq said incredulously, "he'd been round for dinner, he came over regularly, he saw me on video calls when they were on the road."

"So he knew the guy he was fucking had a serious boyfriend and he chose not to walk away," Chris shrugged, tightened his hold. "All's fair in love and war, he knew what he was getting in the middle of."

Joq shook his head, but his arms circled Chris' waist, and his head fell against his chest as the empty champagne glass tapped on Chris' lower back.

Chris kissed the top of his head.

"You shouldn't want me. I'm a mess. I could do it again," he said into Chris' shirt buttons.

"You could threaten extortion on some young thing if he tries to take me away?" Chris grinned.

Joq laughed. "It's not funny."

"I think I'd be flattered," Chris said and he really would—imagine if Joq liked him that much?

"Seriously though," Joq lifted his face and Chris met his eyes. "I'm that guy. I'm not a good guy."

"I like you anyway," Chris tried for light but it came out breathless because with those calm blue eyes staring into him, staring like they looked right through Chris and weren't overly impressed with what they were seeing but deigned to stick around anyway, Chris liked that Joq gave him the time of day.

"You'll regret this," Joq said, eyes boring into Chris'.

"I'd never fuck around on you," Chris answered seriously. "Never. So it's a moot point."

And then he saw a crack in Joq's armour, a tiny sliver of sunlight in those cold eyes.

"And you don't need that right?" Chris shook him a little. "To see other people?"

"No, I don't. I didn't then, I just," Joq stopped and looked past Chris. "I think I just needed something of my own or I needed it to be even. I don't know, I don't even understand it myself, I was just so young and stupid."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," Chris leaned down, searched Joq's eyes before he kissed him.

"Okay," Joq said and allowed the kiss, his response shaky, so unlike him, but there.

They had a long dinner on the deck, a gourmet seafood feast presented by waitstaff who blended seamlessly into the bungalow after serving each course, topping off white wine glasses that never went empty, Chris' bare foot sliding alongside Joq's as Joq laughed and let go more than Chris had ever seen. He held eye contact, all heat and interest, and Chris couldn't wait to get him into bed.

By the time they stumbled into the white sheets, Chris couldn't stop touching—he ran his fingers over every inch of Joq's tan skin, followed the path with his lips, had Joq shaking and begging for it under him before he pushed in, took him in a deep grind, lips fused and bodies entwined so no space was between them.

It was the best sex Chris had ever had and he never wanted to let go. He held Joq against his chest after, kissed the top of his head with a panting breath, relished in the feel of Joq's laboured breathing skirting over his skin, and thought about that footy player. What a fool to have this—loyalty, a body so willing to let go and let him take what he needed—and throw it all away on a twenty-year-old. It reminded Chris of his dad—fucking every young thing that caught his eye—and he firmly believed that footy player would pay in the end.

Unlike me, he thought, and ran his hand up and down Joq's back, couldn't stop touching, sinking into the feel of him, the closeness.

Chris was so sure in them, him and Joq as a couple now, a real couple, that when it happened, he took a second to realise what was going on.

It was their last night and Joq had finished inside him with a brutal thrust, his face in the crook of Chris' neck, his lips and tongue working a mark into his skin, Chris' come cooling between them.

Chris needed him off. He was too heavy and the breath whistling from his nose was annoying. Chris inhaled deeply and tried to shake it off. Joq's smell washed over him—cloying, it stuck in his throat and he thought he'd gag.

He was barely aware of himself as he pushed Joq off.

Joq reared back in surprise.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Fine," Chris slid out from under him, swung his legs over the bed and gripped his head.

Joq's hand landed on his back.

Chris sprung up to shake him off.

"Chris?"

"Give me a sec," Chris rushed into the bathroom. It was a beautiful space—open to the night sky with pebbles moulded into tiles, an enormous shower in which Chris had fucked Joq multiple times.

He shuddered.

He couldn't go back out there. He couldn't let Joq touch him.

"Fuck," he hissed at himself.

He could still smell Joq on his skin. He got in the shower and turned it full blast.

The feeling was so familiar and yet there was something new in it. Shame had always been its bedfellow but now that shame was taking on a deeply personal note.

"Chris, are you alright? Did I hurt you?" Joq asked from outside the curtain.

His voice, his nice, concerned voice was like nails down a blackboard.

"Give me a sec!" Chris shouted, desperate and, shit, scared.

He felt rather than saw Joq pause. Chris held his breath, frozen under the water pounding on his shoulders. He exhaled roughly when Joq went away.

Shit, shit, shit.

What was he going to do? He couldn't just leave. He didn't want to just leave. And yet, he had to leave.

And he couldn't stay in the shower forever. He got out and spent too much time drying himself, his hair, every inch of himself. He was scared to go back into the room. He couldn't let Joq touch him.

He braced himself and went out, ready with an excuse—I'm not feeling well, might be contagious, I'll get a room in a hotel until tomorrow—only Joq wasn't there.

He was surprised when what he felt wasn't relief, but panic. He went to the cupboard and yanked on pants, a shirt, didn't bother with the buttons.

Joq had already left? He needed to find him, to explain—

Movement on the deck caught his eye. He made out Joq sitting on the edge, his feet in the water, gaze on the horizon.

Chris breathed out shakily. What was he thinking? He owed Joq an explanation, not a fucking lie.

He went out, prepared for Joq to call him out, only Joq merely tensed, continued to watch the horizon, a bottle of beer held casually in his hand. He took a sip.

"I," Chris started.

Joq glanced up at him, his expression closed-off and blue in the moonlight.

"You?" he asked simply after Chris didn't go on. "Did I hurt you?" he asked again with a hint of concern.

"No," Chris said.

They lapsed into awkward silence. Chris watched Joq and saw the past month cycle through his mind—the way Joq had finally let go, smiled at him like it was real, let Chris fuck him like he'd trust him with anything, everything—all of it colliding with this familiar dread.

"Then what was that?" Joq asked evenly enough, but he also sounded detached, like he didn't really care either way.

Oddly, it made Chris feel better. Closer. He took a step forward and sat on the other side of the deck, dropped his feet into the water.

"I'm fucked up," he whispered.

"Fucked up how?" Joq replied like he was already done with this conversation.

Chris laughed. He couldn't help it—he was the one who ran away in disgust and yet if anyone sounded disgusted it was Joq.

He glanced over. Joq watched him back steadily, but under that he looked done.

"Remember I said I only date people once?" he said.

Joq nodded.

"It's because I lose all interest after we… I don't mean to," he added because it was important, "but after I come, I feel… I want them to go away."

Joq took that in but didn't say anything. Chris was prepared for a reprimand. He was getting nothing.

"It's not conscious," he went on, feeling terrified. "It's my body, it just, loses all interest."

Joq stared at him. "You've come in me, on me, more times than I can count," he finally said.

"It's been different with you," Chris replied. "I thought it'd gone away."

"So, you only like me because I'm the first guy you haven't wanted to fuck and bail on. Nice," Joq said.

"No," Chris replied because that wasn't true at all. "I like you because I like you."

"But I am the only guy you've been able to fuck more than once, right? Well, except not anymore," Joq finished and laughed bitterly. "Jesus," he said as he looked out to the horizon. "Did I wrong some God? Or am I getting what I deserve for what I did?"

"It's not personal," Chris said.

"You reject people after you sleep with them and it's not personal?"

"It's physical," Chris insisted.

"You realise that's just as bad, right?" Joq shook his head and finished his beer. He got up. "I'm gonna go."

"What? No! Go where?" Chris leapt up and grabbed his arm.

"I don't need this shit again, someone else's shit," Joq said.

He was so close in Chris' hold, his expression tired but his eyes glinted with anger, like he was rejecting Chris right back. Chris took a deep breath and Joq's smell washed over him—clean but musky with the scent of sex. Chris wasn't disgusted.

"Let me go," Joq said, a quiet intensity in his tone.

"No," Chris replied, surprised by his own anger.

"You want a test case to work through your fucked up rich boy baggage," Joq said coldly, his eyes flashing. "I'm not it."

"I think you are," Chris said, a little mean himself as he walked Joq back, grabbed his other bicep and used his height advantage to push Joq against the wall and cage him in. He didn't miss the way Joq was letting him do it. He was furious in his quiet way, but he was allowing Chris to manhandle him. "I think you like me."

"And I think you're a fucking liar," Joq replied in a calm tone. "You've acted this whole time like you like me, the person, when really all you like is finding a hole you can fuck more than once."

Jesus, but that went straight to Chris' dick. He did like that. Liked it a lot. But it was bullshit too.

"Like you?" he leaned down and ghosted his breath over Joq's throat until his lips were hovering over his ear. "I don't like you."

"Then get off me," Joq said shakily and went to push him back.

Chris pressed him hard against the wood. "I fucking love you," he seethed and realised it was true. "And that makes this so much worse."

Well, kind of, he thought ironically because he was rock hard again and far from repulsed.

"Such a fucking liar," Joq said, his voice eerily calm.

Chris had to kiss him. Joq bit his lip and Chris groaned, pushed him harder against the wall. He slid his hand down Joq's arm and grabbed his hand and pressed it against his erection. Joq gripped and squeezed painfully. Chris gasped into the kiss.

Joq broke the kiss, his voice seething against Chris' lips. "You get off on that? Get off on lying? Leading guys on? Using them?"

Chris was the one shoving Joq into the wall and yet with every rough stroke on his clothed dick he felt at Joq's mercy.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Joq said as he worked him over.

"Fuck, I'm gonna," Chris panted and crashed his mouth into Joq's as he started to come.

He'd barely finished when Joq was pushing him off.

"Wait," Chris panted and grabbed him again.

"Let me go this time, Chris, I'm not doing whatever fucked up shit this is," Joq said coolly, but there was something else in his voice.

Hurt.

Chris yanked him back and crushed him against his chest.

He was shocked when Joq gripped him back.

And Chris wasn't disgusted. Oh, it was still there, thrumming like a little ball in the background, but he wanted Joq more.

"I'm sorry," he said and really meant it. "I'm fucked up but don't, please don't go."

Joq didn't reply, but he didn't stop holding on either.

Chris loved him. He needed to keep him. But what if his problem kept happening now? And then something dawned on him.

"Shit, Joq, what if I need you to be mean to me to get it back?"

Joq groaned. Chris felt him shaking. He held him tighter, kissed his hair and apologised repeatedly.

But Joq wasn't shaking because he was wracked with sobs, he was laughing.

"That's funny?" Chris asked with a smile.

"I don't know," Joq pulled away and sighed. "Let me get this straight. You can touch me now because I don't want anything to do with you and your fucked up problem."

Chris had just come, but at those careless words, he felt interest stir again.

"It would appear so."

"And you've never fucked anyone more than once until me because you lose interest after you've come," Joq said like Chris was an absolute asshole.

Chris ran his hands up and down Joq's arms and focused on his collarbones. "Yes."

"But not with me until now."

"Until before. Not right now."

"So before, after this last time, you were disgusted by me?"

Chris cringed. "It's not personal."

"But it will probably happen again."

"I hope not, but probably, yes."

"But if I'm mean to you, it'll go away."

"I think so, yeah."

Joq smiled, nothing humorous about it. The only light they had was the moonlight, Joq's face clear in the blue shadows. Chris listened to the water lapping gently all around them, the sound which had become their peaceful home for the last month. It'd been perfect, idyllic, and they'd co-existed so amicably. Now Chris had no idea where it was going to go. What guy wanted to put up with this bullshit? Well, probably a lot of them since Chris came with billions of dollars, but Joq was as impressed with his money as he was with this conversation by the looks of his face—not very.

"But what if that doesn't work," Joq mused.

Chris was just grateful he was even entertaining it.

Until another horrible thought dawned on him. If Chris was going to blow hot and cold on him for the rest of their lives, Joq might have to find satisfaction elsewhere.

He gripped Joq's biceps too tightly.

Joq made a disgruntled sound but Chris needed to hold him there.

"Do you think you can still be with me?" he asked.

"I don't know, probably," Joq replied. "Unfortunately, I kind of like you too."

Not a ringing endorsement, but Chris would absolutely take it.

"Promise me," he started and met Joq's eyes, he swallowed, "promise me you won't get your needs met elsewhere if I have a time where this happens and it takes a while to come back."

Joq frowned. "Go elsewhere? You mean fuck someone else?"

Chris tightened his hold. He was jealous just at the fucking words. "Yes."

"You realise I'm not going to die if I don't have sex, right?"

"Just promise me, please," Chris shook him and Joq gave him a warning look. Chris loosened his hold a tiny bit.

"Chris, I'd never cheat on you."

"Or leave me and fuck someone else."

"I can't promise we won't ever break up, but I'm willing to stay with you and your stupid, broken dick."

Chris laughed, relieved. "Okay, good, that's good."

"Can you let me go now?"

"Where are you going?"

"To bed?"

"Okay, good."

Chris let him go and Joq rolled his eyes, but dutifully went back inside and slipped into bed.

Chris didn't know what to do with himself. He was full of adrenaline. He went inside and stood at the end of the bed.

"Can I join you?" he asked horribly unsure.

"Ugh, don't be fucking weird, of course you can if you can bring yourself to touch my disgusting body," Joq said muffled under the covers.

Chris couldn't help his laughter. He took off his clothes, got into bed and dragged Joq against his front. He inhaled his smell, pressed his skin against Joq's shirt, ignored the discomfort of his come drying and flaking in his groin.

"I love your body," he whispered.

"Ugh, shut up and go to sleep or get up and have a shower, I can feel that," Joq said and pushed back against Chris' groin with his ass.

Chris pulled him closer with a smile. They were going to be okay.