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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.
