5. 5

Chris tried and failed to shake off the giddy feeling running up and down his limbs, the nervous bubbling in his stomach as he walked to work the following morning. The fog of winter was lifting slowly against the warm sunshine of spring, and he still had the sense-memory of Joq's body pressing against his.

He'd woken early to the sound of soft rain, the feel of a heavy body pressing on top of his own. Without thought, he'd run his hand up the bare spine, ran it back down to tuck under the waistband, sweeping his fingers along Joq's tailbone, dragging lower in an exploratory tease. The only thing that bothered him, he realised, was the tongue of the zipper on Joq's open pants digging into this abdomen.

He wasn't repulsed. He wasn't filled with an urge to slide out from under that weight and hide in the shower until Joq got the hint and left—quite the contrary. He'd tugged Joq closer with a palm on his ass, kissed his hairline, rolled his hips so his dick could slide against the material of Joq's pants, rub up against the dick hardening next to his own.

When Joq had woken with a sleepy groan, Chris was ready and waiting to kiss him deeply, ask him in a whisper if this was okay. A sleepy nod and Chris was rolling Joq under him, getting his pants off, kissing him as he fumbled for the lube and a condom.

He was sliding in and fucking Joq with deep rolls of his hips before Joq was fully awake, Joq's hands tight on his ass to haul him closer, his soft moans all the permission Chris needed.

Chris waited again after he'd come for the feelings of revulsion to wash over him—he felt like he was balanced on the edge of a precipice. Only it didn't; his lips continued to explore Joq's throat while he stayed buried deep inside him, hips rocking, while his thumbs caressed Joq's sharp hipbones.

It was Joq who nudged him off when their eyes met. Joq who got up, showered quickly and left with an unreadable smile and a thank you.

Chris had fallen back against the pillows and tried to catch his breath even though he'd been long recovered.

He wondered at Joq's reluctance as he made his way into his building, the old brokerage firm his grandfather had started and Chris maintained as the bread and butter for the company. He couldn't figure out if it was one-night-stand etiquette that made him fuck and ditch so quickly or if he didn't want something with Chris, specifically. Chris had no right to be offended on the latter. It stung his pride anyway. He might not be built to commit, but he'd yet to fuck a guy who didn't want that from him.

He greeted his assistant, Terry, dressed as usual in a sharp suit, expensive tie and hair dyed an obnoxious pink to match her bright lipstick, and thought again about Joq having a moment in his entryway. He'd looked broken.

Chris shook his head as he turned on his laptop and opened his emails. He scrolled through and saw nothing. He checked their share price. Down slightly, but that was to be expected with news of one of the American players building a rival product since Chris had shot down their takeover bid with a firm "Over my dead body."

He tapped his lip with his forefinger and thought about Joq's lips brushing softly against his own. He wondered how normal people functioned if fucking someone and wanting to do it again always felt like this.

He was typing a message before he could talk himself out of it.

His invitation to dinner received a swift reply: laughter. Not an emoji, the actual words, Haha.

He typed around his own incredulous laughter.

Is that a yes?

He watched the message bubble as he felt Brendan enter the office with his effusive greeting for everyone working on the downstairs floor, and he knew he'd only have a minute before Brendan was in here, insisting Chris reconsider selling at least part of the majority share holdings to "make the cash now for another investment."

No matter how many times Chris explained the power of equity over selling assets, Brendan wouldn't hear it. Brendan hated the risk factor and he liked cash. A sure-fire way to have money while you were working and nothing when you were a decade into retirement and certainly no legacy for your next generation. Not that Chris had to worry about the latter, but he had a half-sister on his mum's side who probably would one day.

It's not a no, popped up.

Chris shook his head and smiled.

"Terry! You look divine today!" Brendan said as he came up the stairs.

"I wear a variation of the same thing every day," Terry said.

Chris pulled up the webpage to his favourite restaurant, sent Joq the link and wrote, 7pm.

"And every day, you make it work," Brendan said, which Terry ignored and told Brendan Chris was busy, which Brendan ignored.

"Morning, boss," he said as he strolled in.

Chris threw his phone on his desk like he wasn't invested in the reply, and looked at Brendan.

"Morning, don't start," he replied.

"Don't start what? I was just coming in to point out the share price is down," he responded as he flicked his suit jacket back and took a seat on the couch, one leg coming up to cross over his knee.

"I know. It's a dip, it'll be fine," he flicked his eyes to his darkening phone screen.

"It's just, hear me out, okay?" Brendan sat forward. "We could sell twenty percent, it's only twenty—

"No."

"Then we could use that to fund the prototype—

"No."

"And we'd double what we just did."

Chris' phone lit up. He reached for it as casually as he could.

And that's a no.

Chris frowned.

Brendan was still talking, banging on about the merits of a sure thing. Chris snorted; no such thing as a sure thing in the tech market.

"I need to make a call," he stood and Brendan stood as well, slightly alarmed.

"Who to?"

"No one, business," he came around the desk and held his door open.

"What business?"

"None of your business, business," he shook the door a little.

"Don't go and make some deal and come to me after, all ‘make this work legally, Brendan,' like when you leveraged this place. Do you know how long it took me to find the trust deed? I had to go to fucking Scotland. Do you know how fucking cold Scotland is?" Brendan said but he was moving for the door and Chris couldn't help smiling at him.

"You loved it, don't lie. If it wasn't for me, you'd be writing contract variations for a mining company in a cubicle. Now get out, I'm busy."

"Don't make a deal," Brendan pointed at him. He went to leave before he paused on the threshold and turned back. "Who are you really calling?"

Chris shut the door.

He called Joq.

"Hello, Chris, what can I do for you?" Joq answered so smoothly, Chris had to laugh.

"Well, you could have dinner with me."

"Nope, what else have you got," Joq replied.

"What's wrong with dinner? We had dinner last night."

"We had a snack at your place."

"So, we can have a snack somewhere else and then go to my place," he ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the window. "Or we can go to yours, I'm not fussy."

Joq didn't say anything and Chris decided to wait. Maybe Joq was embarrassed about his place. But that made no sense—Joq dressed sharply, smelled good, and gave off the whiff of saving and spending sensibly. Chris imagined his place bespoke of the same minimalist taste and clean lines, wherever it was.

"We're not dating," Joq murmured finally.

"No," Chris replied. They weren't. But he ached for the build-up over a nice dinner, the being with someone in public when all you wanted to do was fuck them over the nearest available surface.

"Dinner and sex is a date," Joq said flatly.

"Dinner and sex is dinner and sex," Chris countered. "But if you're not into it anymore, I won't pressure you."

"I'm into it, just want to make sure we both get where the boundaries are."

Chris had a surreal moment where he thought—I've never had to work this hard for it, who the fuck is this guy? He couldn't help it—he laughed.

"Got it, boundary established. Dinner and sex, no dating."

"So long as we're clear and you don't go getting ideas later," Joq replied but Chris could hear a smile in his voice. Joq didn't exactly smile at him, but he got this look in his eyes—an understated bemusement. Chris was a fan of this look.

"Likewise."

Joq did laugh then. It was a nice sound, but it seemed bitter too. "Trust me, you're safe. I'll see you at seven."

And then he hung up.

Chris looked at his phone, a little bewildered and possibly, unfathomably, a little hurt.

Brendan opened the door like he'd been watching and waiting.

"No," Chris said without looking up from his phone.

"You haven't even heard what I was going to say," Brendan resumed his position on the couch. "Also, I'm a shareholder, you have to listen to me."

Chris cracked up. "Oh, Brendan, who told you that? I have an obligation to make profit for shareholders, but listen to you? No."

"You're an asshole," Brendan said. "Who were you talking to?"

"No one," Chris tossed his phone on his desk and sat down. "I've got work to do so if there's nothing else?"

"I'm scheduling a meeting with the board," Brendan said as he got up.

"You do that."

"Tonight."

"Not tonight," Chris replied and focused on his screen.

"Hot date?" Brendan asked.

"Yes, actually."

Brendan laughed.

Chris didn't.

"Oh, you're serious," Brendan came closer and took a seat in front of Chris' desk, settled in. "You never date anyone."

"I go on dates."

"Not with the same guy."

"How do you know it's the same guy?" Chris asked and kept his eyes on his screen.

"Because you do not have the game to pull more than one dude in a fortnight."

Chris felt a blush creeping up his throat. Of course Brendan would notice. They'd lived in each other's pockets since high school. Didn't mean they talked about it.

"Maybe I do," he refuted half-heartedly.

Brendan ignored that. "Good for you, man."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Alright, no need to get all touchy feely over it, and it's nothing, a hook-up."

"My boy is finally becoming a man," Brendan mused. "Moving on from one-night stands."

"Get out," Chris said and started typing an email to his broker—airlines were taking a dive on the back of rumblings about an investigation into price gouging, and he was going to short it. Why sell his own assets when he could make money off the panicked masses responding to every little bump like it was an earthquake?

"I'm just saying," Brendan said and stood, "good for you."

"Out," Chris replied and hit send.

"I'm going, I'm going. Board meeting this week though."

And then he was gone.

Since Chris was the majority shareholder, CEO and actual owner of all assets in the company, he didn't give a fuck about the board or how many meetings they called. What he did give a fuck about was seeing Joq again. He liked it. Sleeping with someone more than once. He was already picking up little tells he didn't see the first time—Joq fucked him like a wet dream, but Chris saw this morning that he liked letting himself go and taking it more.

He was a little wounded by Joq being so adamant about not wanting anything serious even though it made him a hypocrite. Did he have the same problem as Chris? Unlikely; he sauntered in, fucked like someone who knew exactly what they were doing, and then sauntered out again.

So why was he against a relationship?

Chris was too, but he had good reason.

Surely Joq's reason wasn't Chris-related, was it?

It didn't seem to be.

Closet?

Chris shuddered, he couldn't stand those guys. But that didn't seem right either.

Bad break-up was most likely, but even that was debatable given he was sleeping around with random guys a year ago.

He kicked his chair out, put his hands over his stomach and tapped his fingers as he kicked his legs up on the desk.

The intercom blared to life. "Brendan line one. Todd line two. Your mother line three."

"Put Todd through," he replied. His broker was the most pressing. His mum was probably just calling to mock him again for landing on the GQ most eligible bachelor list at number three. And Brendan was being Brendan.

Maybe he could ask Joq, he thought as he confirmed his short and hung up.

But then what if Joq asked him?

He winced.

Maybe he should just keep getting laid and stop thinking.

That sounded like the safest plan.

But then what had Joq said at the coffee shop? "It's not like I've got a boyfriend."

And he'd said it like he'd slept with other guys while having a boyfriend. Chris might be a fuck-them-and-leave-them type, but he wasn't down for cheating. Nor did he like the idea of the person he was sleeping with banging someone else at the same time.

In fact, all of this was making him feel like shit. If he didn't like the sex with Joq so much, he'd call the whole thing off.

As it was, he thought he might need to ask at least a few questions.

Chris was already seated in a secluded booth at the back of the restaurant under dim lighting when the ma?tre d' led Joq to their table. Joq looked good—navy suit with a white shirt, no tie, the first buttons popped, tan dress shoes—and his blonde hair skirted the top of his eyebrows as he pushed it back with long fingers, took a seat and thanked the ma?tre d' at the same time as he smiled over at Chris in greeting; it didn't reach his eyes.

"You look good," Chris said.

Joq's smile turned sardonic. "You know what I look like."

Chris grinned. "I think the customary response is to tell me I look good too."

Joq opened his menu. "You strike me as the kind of guy who knows he looks good."

"Ah, so you think I'm good-looking," Chris replied.

"What made you think I didn't?" Joq flicked his eyes up.

Chris shrugged. "You never said."

"I think I said it with my dick," Joq replied and before Chris could respond around his choked laughter, a waiter appeared to take their drinks order.

Chris ordered a bottle of red for the table, to which Joq agreed with a less than effusive, "Sure, whatever you like," and Chris asked for more time with the menu.

"You do like red wine, right?" Chris asked.

"Of course," Joq closed his menu and sat back. "Just, no need to get me drunk, I'm a sure thing. That's kind of the point."

Chris smiled nervously, shook his head and mirrored Joq's position in an effort to make himself relax. He slid his foot forward so it nudged up against Joq's and smiled, teasing. Joq knocked his foot back, left it there.

Chris couldn't remember a date ever going this well right from the outset. He glanced down at the white tablecloth, the candle burning—which was really overkill given the lighting in the place—and it'd be easily extinguished if he wanted to bend Joq over this table and fuck him.

"Are you planning to talk more since you invited me here or stare at the tablecloth?" Joq asked.

"Sorry," Chris shook his head. "Just thinking about, you know," he waved a hand between them.

Joq raised an eyebrow.

A waiter came and took their order, but Chris felt Joq's curiosity on him the whole time. Joq ordered the fish and salad with potatoes and dill. Chris went with steak, medium, and caramelised roast vegetables. When the waiter left, Chris knew Joq wasn't curious about his food preferences.

"You know?" Joq asked.

"You know, us, what we've done, do," Chris replied.

Joq tilted his head and studied him. "That's an odd thing to be thinking about."

"Is it?" Chris was actually wondering now. He wasn't living in a cave—he was familiar with pop culture and his friend's lives—but he'd never gone beyond a second date, so in his experience, he'd never been out with someone he'd already slept with. What else would you think about sitting across from someone you'd already fucked and really wanted to fuck again?

Joq frowned and looked away. "I think so?"

Chris hoped he wasn't asking him, but there was nobody else there and he thought maybe the best idea was to change the direction of the conversation.

"So, how was your day?" he asked.

Joq startled a laugh. "Seriously?"

"Well, I don't know, what do people talk about on dates?"

"You've never been on a date?" And the way Joq asked, he didn't even try to soften the blow.

"No, I have, just not more than once," he mumbled the last part.

"You've only been on one date?" Joq sounded incredulous. "Please don't tell me I'm special or some bullshit."

It was Chris' turn to startle a laugh. "Okay, I won't, and no, I've been on a lot of dates, just not second dates. Well, a couple of second dates, but that's it."

Joq raised both eyebrows. He'd folded his arms over this chest at some point and the whole look was judgement personified.

"It's not what you think, I'm not an asshole," well, depending who you asked; he knew ghosting several of the people he'd gone out with, fucked once, and then left would disagree with that, but, "I'm just, picky."

Joq, surprisingly, nodded. "That's fair."

"Yeah?"

"Well, yeah," he uncrossed his arms and took a sip of his wine. "It's better than leading someone on, isn't it?"

"Yes," Chris agreed readily. He could get onboard with that interpretation.

Joq took another sip of wine, met his eyes over the rim of the glass. "I like straight forward. And I'm not going to lead you on either; I mean it when I say we're just hooking up, even with all of this," he inclined his head as he finished.

"Me too," Chris said easily. "Dinner and sex tonight is all that's on the table."

Joq smiled at him. "Just tonight is it? Alright."

Chris huffed a nervous laugh. "Well, we'll see how it goes."

"Will we?" Joq replied, eyebrow raised, but he was smiling and Chris realised he liked him. Actually liked him. He made him feel wrongfooted all the time and he bloody well liked it.

Their food arrived and Joq asked Chris about his day—heavy on the sarcasm—but Chris answered, leaving out recognisable features, and found Joq to be a good conversationalist. Chris wasn't famous per se, but he wasn't not famous either. He was famous in the way most billionaires with old money are—known, but kind of left alone unless they did something remarkable or weird. Usually the latter. He got the feeling Joq wouldn't care; hell, maybe he already knew and didn't care.

What he did care about, it turned out, was finances. He knew his risk profile— conservative—he understood money—don't wait for a big pay day, save incrementally and invest in a diversified portfolio—and he scoffed, gratifyingly, when Chris explained that Brendan, who Joq seemed to remember from the incessant phone calls, insisted Chris sell assets to expand.

"Leverage the equity in your company if you're going well and get your loan there," Joq said.

"Exactly!" Chris exclaimed as their plates were cleared and the waiter asked if they'd like dessert and coffee. Chris was amazed to realise he did. He wanted to get Joq home and put his hands all over him, kiss him more than anything else, but he wanted to keep this going too.

"I'd love to see the menu if Joaquin would?" he looked at him.

Joq smiled, and Chris swore it was the first time he'd let his guard down; Chris hadn't noticed it fully before, but he could see the guard clearly when it went down and he agreed with a simple, "Yes."

"Can you please come over and have dinner with Brendan and explain this to him?" Chris asked with a grin once they'd ordered coffees and a chocolate tart with strawberry sorbet to share.

Joq laughed, eyes dancing. "But we're only doing tonight?"

Chris nudged his foot. "Maybe we could make an exception for the good of my company. One more night."

Joq smiled, but it wasn't as bright. "Maybe."

He asked Joq about his family to change the subject quickly, and as they ate dessert, he felt how close Joq was to his parents in the way he talked about them. His dad, an ex-Olympic swimmer and coach, and his mum, the physio twelve years her husband's senior and adored by his dad since he was eighteen and they met at The Games.

By the time they stepped onto the street, Chris was buzzed, turned on, and ready to get Joq somewhere private.

"Your place or mine?" he asked casually. He figured his place, but Joq just shrugged and responded with the same casualness. "We can go to mine if you want? St Kilda and the trams right there."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Joq shrugged again and looked both ways before crossing for the tram, Chris ambling to keep up. "It's not like I can't bring hook-ups home anymore."

Chris laughed. "Your parents weren't cool with it?"

Joq faltered, shook his head. "Something like that."

Chris frowned but didn't push. It was another one of those weird comments, but Joq gave off the strongest don't pry vibes, Chris was at a loss as to how to ask what that meant. If it wasn't his parents, was it a homophobic housemate? Or—god forbid—a boyfriend he'd been cheating on? It wasn't his business, and when Joq looked back as he stepped onto the tram to check Chris was behind him, he decided to leave it alone.

They stood close on the tram and Chris slid his hand down Joq's back, tucked it possessively in his pocket and squeezed the firm muscle.

Joq gave him a surprised look over his shoulder. Chris was going to pull away—maybe Joq wasn't into public displays of affection?—but Joq leaned into it and Chris relaxed. He massaged his ass with that hand, placed his other hand on his hip to tug him back into his chest as the tram rattled out of the CBD. It was crowded, but no one paid them much attention.

Chris felt Joq's warmth all along his front; he slipped his hand out of the confines of the pocket to rub more freely through the material, drifting lower, teasing between his legs with a soft caress. Joq surprised him by widening his thighs slightly and rocking back. Chris leaned down to breath hotly on the back of his neck; his dick was starting to fill and he pressed it against Joq's lower back, just enough so he knew he'd feel it.

He leaned down so his lips were ghosting Joq's ear. "Can't wait to get you home."

Joq breathed out shakily, but leaned more firmly into the hands Chris had on him, rested his back against Chris' chest.

Chris kissed his throat, a feather light touch, before dragging his nose up the skin to nuzzle below his ear. "Gonna bend you over—"

"My stop," Joq grabbed Chris by the hand to tug him off the tram into the night.

Chris thought he was angry, so he was gratified to see him shaking with laughter once they were on the street. He seemed younger.

"Are you trying to get us done for public indecency?" he asked, eyes shining as he continued to laugh.

"Where's your place," Chris replied and tucked Joq under his arm.

"A few kilometres that way."

"What?"

"I didn't want to fuck on the tram," he looked up.

"Come on, I wasn't going to fuck you," he started walking, held Joq close with a hand around his hip.

"Maybe I would've made you," Joq replied, eyes ahead, their feet clicking on the pavement. "Just slipped you out, got my pants down enough, rocked back—"

"Can you run?" Chris asked hastening the pace.

Joq laughed and Chris grinned down at him.

It was a nice night, the soft lapping of the water in the bay to their right, the evening cool but not cold, and Chris might've appreciated it if he wasn't trying to walk with a semi.

"Come on," Joq said and slipped out from under his arm. Chris let him go, but took his hand. Joq seemed surprised again, but he allowed it, squeezed, and went on. "It's about a thirty-minute walk. Tell me about your parents."

Well, nothing would kill his erection faster, so he did. His father, the alcoholic with zero financial sense, spoiled in the literal sense of the word from his upbringing as a wealthy trust fund kid, was as shit at running the company his grandfather built as he was at being a husband. His mother, an Italian-born Australian wealthy on both sides of her own family, was beautiful, cunning, and sporadic in her parenting.

"Basically, they lived their own lives, sent me off to boarding schools, and I was mainly raised by my grandfather," he finished. He left out just how wealthy they were—he still couldn't get a read on whether or not Joq knew who he was—but he didn't hide that he came from money.

"That sucks?" Joq asked and looked up at him.

Chris shrugged. "Not really, my grandfather was great, mum's still around but she doesn't hassle me, and I've got the company, keeps me busy."

"You're happy then?" Joq asked.

Chris met his gaze. It seemed like a deeper question; like he was trying to ascertain the happiness of corporate gay men in general.

"Happy enough," Chris hedged. "I'll be a lot happier once we reach your place. Are we almost there yet?"

Joq shook off whatever was behind the question, his expression shifting as he jerked his chin to the left. "Just down here."

They meandered down a side road and entered an apartment block with four flats, Joq's on the top facing the road and a line of trees.

Joq led him up the stairs, their feet loud on the concrete steps, the space unbearably cold. As Joq unlocked his door, Chris crowded in behind him, ran his hands up and down his sides and breathed on his neck.

Joq shivered, got the door open and stepped inside.

Chris slid his arm around Joq's waist and spun him as the door closed behind them. He kissed him.

The dinner had been the build-up he'd been looking for. He needed to fuck him. His hands came up and slipped Joq's suit jacket off, moved to his shirt and unbuttoned it quickly, palms sliding over exposed skin as he slipped it off his shoulders.

Joq tugged him in with a hand on the back of his head and kissed him back, his other hand rubbing Chris' erection over his pants.

Chris broke the kiss to meet Joq's eyes as he started to walk him back into the apartment. He flicked his gaze over Joq's shoulder and saw a dining table at the end of the little hall. He kissed Joq again, kept him moving and upright as he stumbled for it.

Joq broke the kiss. "Bedroom's that way."

Chris pushed him against a gap between the chairs, shoved one aside and spun him so Joq was facing the table.

"I've been thinking about fucking you over a table all night," he whispered in his ear as he slid his hands down to his fly, undid it with quick movements and shoved his pants down.

Joq braced himself on the table with both hands.

Chris massaged his ass, but he was too keyed up for romance—he got the condom and a sachet of lube out of his pocket. He ripped lube open, spread it on his fingers, reached down, fingers finding Joq's entrance. He pushed in.

Joq arched his back as Chris slid into him quickly, pulled out, added another finger.

"Okay?" he asked as he rubbed his covered dick against Joq's skin.

"Yeah," Joq rocked back.

Chris pulled out, undid his pants and pulled his cock out. He rolled the condom on. He pushed Joq into the table with a hand on his mid-back, lined his dick up with the other hand and pushed in. Joq was so tight, Chris could push the head in but no more.

He plastered himself to Joq's naked back. Chris was still fully dressed so his shirt buttons rubbed roughly on bare skin, his jacket lapels hung around them. He kissed Joq's throat, ghosted his lips over his ear as he whispered, "Relax."

Joq gave a full body shudder and pushed back.

Chris slid his hands down, gripped Joq's hips and yanked him back onto his dick.

They both groaned as he buried himself to the hilt. He thrust, but stayed close. The smacking of his clothed groin pounding into Joq's ass in the darkness of the dining room sounded muffled. The street light cast them in a glow as they panted together roughly. Chris grunted as he fucked him as hard as he could in the position; punching audible breaths out of him.

He wasn't going to last and if this was the time he lost all interest, well, it was a way to go he thought as he pulled back, grabbed Joq by the hips and fucked into him so hard Joq was scrabbling at the table for purchase.

Joq gasped, his head pressed to the side on the table, his breaths creating a damp patch of moisture on the wood.

Chris hammered into the spot and felt Joq starting to come in the way he arched and squeezed so tight around his dick.

"Fuck, really?" he panted out and fucked him with long, punishing strokes as he listened to Joq's come hitting the tiled floor.

His own orgasm built from the base of his spine, his dick sliding into that tight, wet heat. He pulled Joq back and held him against his groin as he started to come. He rocked in, buried himself as deep as he could go with little rolls of his hips, aware of Joq panting and pushing back to meet him.

As he came down, he pried one hand off Joq's hip and ran it through his hair, held Joq tight against him with the other.

Joq glanced back and met his eyes. His face was cast in the blue glow of the street light, eyes catching the light and seeming amused.

"You alright there?"

Chris rocked forward. Joq pressed his face back into the wood to cover his groan.

"Yeah," he breathed out, returning the favour from when Joq did it to him.

Joq lifted his head again, and Chris thought he rolled his eyes.

Chris tugged him back against him.

"Good?" Chris asked.

Joq waved a hand back, screwed his eyes shut, but stayed where he was, pliant and accepting against the table. Chris laughed, pulled out slowly and ran a soothing hand up and down Joq's bare back as he did so. Joq pushed himself up.

Chris leaned in to kiss him. He was in it before he felt surprised by it. He pulled back, made short work of the condom, tied it off and looked around for a bin.

Joq took it from him.

"Thanks," Joq whispered against his lips—and Chris answered by wrapping him up and pulling him into a deeper kiss.

"Hang on," Joq pulled away, kicked his pants off and untangled himself. "I need to get rid of this and get changed."

"I can stay then?" Chris asked, a hand reaching for Joq's hip.

"Yeah, I'm getting you back for that," Joq replied and moved down the hall, his naked body gleaming in the darkness.

"Looking forward to it," Chris said to the empty room and tucked himself away. He removed his jacket and hung it over a chair as he welcomed the feeling of wanting to stay, to settle in, to do it again.

Joq was stretched on his couch in casual jeans and a white shirt, his feet in Chris' lap, one of Chris' hands rubbing his foot as the other flicked through channels.

"Not the game," Joq said as the night's football game in Queensland came up.

"I don't like football," Chris said absently as he scrolled past it and settled on an old action movie.

"You don't?" Joq asked.

Chris dropped the remote beside him so he could focus on Joq's feet. "Nope, sacrilege, I know, but I boarded at Eaton, then went to Cambridge, so I'm afraid it's real football for me," he smiled at Joq watching him. "I mean, if I have to watch sport. I'd rather do than watch."

"You play soccer?"

Chris squeezed his foot. "God, no. I used to row. Now I run, gym, nothing crazy. But why would I want to watch other people exercising?"

Joq's laughter was low as his eyes moved back to the screen. "A lot of people do."

"You interested in any of those people?" Chris knew Joq would know the kind of people who enjoyed watching sport better than anyone.

"God, no," Joq replied.

"Exactly."

Chris rubbed Joq's feet—up the arch with a deep press of his thumbs, in between each toe, a firm caress around the ankles.

"Hmm, that feels good," Joq murmured.

Chris looked away from the TV and saw Joq watching him intently even though his eyes were sleepy.

"What?" Chris asked.

"Nothing," Joq's face flashed with a weird sadness for a moment before he erased it and smiled for real.

"No, tell me," Chris pressed.

Joq roused himself. Chris held the look and waited.

"You don't look at me like a hook-up," Joq said.

Chris squeezed his foot.

"How do I look at you?"

"I don't know," Joq replied seriously, "but it's not like that."

He swallowed. Joq watched him do it.

"But you are," Joq said finally.

"What?"

"A hook-up."

Chris tugged Joq's feet into his middle and held them, his fingers pressing down and releasing in a possessive hold. He had to look away. The moment felt charged, and he felt like shit all of the sudden.

"I am," he replied, voice hollow.

"You could do better," Joq said after a while and Chris startled a laugh.

"What?"

Joq was smiling when Chris looked at him.

"That's what I said to you, when we met," Chris smiled at the memory. "You were scrolling through guys on your phone and I looked and said, ‘you could do better.'"

Joq frowned. But then he shook his head and looked back at the TV.

"I don't remember," he murmured.

Chris shrugged like it didn't matter, ignored his disappointment. He shook Joq's feet and tried to make light of the moment. He leaned forward and grabbed his beer, took a drink, and sat back.

Joq didn't say anything else.

By the time the credits were rolling, he was asleep.

Chris thought it was probably time to leave. He leaned over for the remote, careful not to crush Joq's feet in his lap, and clicked the TV off. There was light from a lamp behind them and he planned to turn it off after he got his jacket and shoes back on, called himself a car.

Joq's foot was warm in his hand. He stroked up the arch with his thumb, touch light. He wriggled around until he was able to gently place Joq's feet on the cushion. As he stretched up along the back of the couch, Joq moved with him, rolling onto his side in his sleep in a way that felt familiar.

Chris stretched out behind him, slid his hand around his waist and pulled him in. Joq wriggled back, breathing deep and even.

Chris" breath fanned against the wisps of blonde hair as he drifted off.

When Chris woke up, his dick was hard and snug against Joq's ass. He blinked, groaned, hugged Joq closer.

"Morning?" Joq asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

"Hmm," Chris replied and rolled his hips against Joq's ass.

Joq turned in his hold, his gaze sleepy as he frowned down at him.

Chris slipped their fingers together and slid their combined hands down to his dick, tried to spread his thighs in the confined space.

"I think it was your turn," Chris rumbled up at him.

Joq raised an eyebrow, smiled oddly, but then took his turn.

Chris was late to the board meeting. There was a lot of side-eye, but of course, no one said anything. Except Brendan.

"Everything alright?" he asked neutrally once they were in the elevator.

"Yeah, fine," Chris replied and leaned against the metal wall, crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. He could still feel the lube in his ass, the tackiness on his thighs. Joq had fucked him from behind on his couch, the cushion scratching Chris' face as he was jostled against the material with each thrust.

He rubbed his chin and thought about texting to see what Joq was doing tonight.

"Alright, well, I know you don't give a fuck about the board, but maybe try and at least pretend to," Brendan said.

Chris opened his eyes. "Sorry," he shrugged. "I was really busy."

"You were really busy at eight o'clock in the morning?" Brendan asked.

Chris smirked, raised an eyebrow in an imitation of how Joq did it. He realised why people did it—it felt pretty cool.

Brendan stared at him blankly. Chris waited. The elevator sped up, slowed down, lurched to a stop. Realisation flickered on Brendan's face.

Chris pushed off the wall, stepped into the cavernous lobby and pulled out his phone. Brendan's dress shoes clicked on the polished floor as he caught up. Chris opened his message thread with Joq.

"Maybe we'll schedule them for later in future then," Brendan said. "We only have them that early because you insisted, so I think everyone will be fine if we push all future meetings to ten."

Chris went into the rotating sliding glass doors. The suction of the cubicle sealed as he walked with it in his own bubble, eyes on the messages, Brendan closed in his own partition behind him. He tapped out a quick message: the address of a hole in the wall restaurant he loved in Carlton, 8pm, and a question mark for good measure. He hit send.

The seal broke and he walked onto the street into the sunshine.

Brendan came alongside him.

"Ten is fine," he said and pocketed his phone. "Though I can't imagine we need to convene again for a while."

"I think everyone will be happy with that," Brendan replied.

Chris gave him a gentle hip and shoulder as they strolled, and Brendan bumped him back, smile gruff.

He tucked his hands in his pockets and listened to Brendan's rundown for the day's meetings and did his best to focus.

His phone remained silent the whole walk back.