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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.
