This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living
or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or
the publisher.

Guava Red: Almost Paradise

COLOR BOX

An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers

PO Box 2545

Round Rock, TX 78680

Copyright O 2011 by TC Blue

Cover illustration by Alessia Brio

Published with permission

ISBN: 978-1-61040-272-9

www.torquerepress.com

All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or

portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S.
Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545,
Round Rock, TX 78680.

First Torquere Press Printing: July 2011

Printed in the USA

Guava Red: Almost Paradise

By TC Blue

Dedicated with love and respect to Scarlet, Alex, Peter, and everyone

else who talked me through the difficult spots. Thanks, guys.

Part One -- Oahu, Hawaii -- Nine Years Ago

Bastian was having a kick-ass time. It was only because he hadn't

expected to that he noticed, but damned if he wasn't.

When his parents had told him he was going to Oahu for the year after

high school when he'd planned to take that time off and run around Los
Angeles or San Francisco, Bastian had actually done some research, and
while it was the most heavily populated island, he'd also heard that it was
somewhat lacking in clubs.

By which he meant his sort of clubs. And Bastian might only be

eighteen, but he was pretty damned clear on his own sexuality. A lack of
nearby gay bars meant a lack of opportunity to lose his overly burdensome
and entirely unwanted virginity. His chaperone made it even more difficult.

Of course, that was part of the whole trip, too. At least it was

according to Bastian's cousin Makani. Makani had gone through a so-called
gay phase for a few years during college. Bastian's parents were counting on
Makani to somehow de-gayify Bastian, not that it was working. Of course,
Bastian wasn't really sure that Makani's phase was over. The older man --
because at twenty-six, Makani was definitely older -- seemed to be way too

aware of what went on with the gay scene for someone who'd grown out of a
phase.

Except Makani had a fiancee now. Bastian had met her exactly once

in the four months he'd been on the island, but she'd seemed smart and she
was definitely pretty. Maybe she was the reason Makani knew about the gay
happenings but never seemed to do anything other than watch out for
Bastian.

Makani definitely took Bastian to places where copious numbers of

girls could be found, in addition to those establishments more in keeping
with Bastian's interests. Luckily those places tended to be beaches, and
beaches meant surfing. As a born and raised Cali-boy, Bastian was fine with
sand, surf, and sun. Honestly, most days he could have handled a bit more of
the three S-es, but the other part of his folks' plan involved actual work.

"You'll thank us for it later, Bas," his mother still insisted at least once

during each of their weekly phone calls. "Nobody there has anything to gain
by going easy on you. It's a learning experience. Don't think of it as a
punishment. It's more like being in school, isn't it?" Or words to that effect,
anyway. She usually started in right after asking how he was and before
wanting to know about the girls he'd met lately.

A learning experience? Yeah, it was definitely that. Bastian had

learned that the men -- and a few women -- Bastian worked with thought he
was just some slacker haole who wanted to coast. It felt like no matter how
many hours he spent sweating, he was still just a haole, and while Bastian
knew the word meant something along the lines of stranger or foreigner or
just not-from-there, it sounded way too close to asshole for him. Learning
experience. Right.

By the same token, being sent to Hawaii for a year with no real

stipulations about how he spent his time, aside from working the farm and
talking to a few farmers about their growing cycles and harvests, wasn't as
restricting as his folks seemed to think. It hadn't kept him from meeting
people and going places. Like the party he was currently having a good time
at, at... someone's house. Bastian couldn't remember whose place it was,
though Makani had introduced him when they'd first arrived.

"Little haole," Makani said, coming back to Bastian's side with a beer

in each hand, "I got people asking if you're as hot as you look, yeah?"

Bastian laughed and took one of the bottles from Makani. It was different
when his cousin called him haole. Bastian knew Makani meant it
affectionately. "Might think about getting out there and dancing before it
looks like I brought a total slack-ass to a high school prom." Makani winked
and Bastian laughed again.

He wasn't even half drunk yet, but the beer went down easy, so

Bastian drained it fast. "I didn't think you island people had proms. Don't
you just prance around on the beach in grass skirts and bean each other with
coconuts or something?"

Makani chuckled and handed Bastian the other beer, and Bastian was

happy to accept it. Underage for drinking or not, he hadn't had any difficulty
with getting nicely sloshed when he felt like it over the last four months.
Then Makani disappeared for a couple minutes and came back with another
drink, though this time Makini was drinking it himself. Bastian had never
seen his cousin drink before, but he figured it was cool. Neither of them
were driving, anyway.

"Dance," Makani said, repeating his earlier suggestion. Then, more

like an order, "Dance with me. Now!"

There was no reason not to, so Bastian let his six-foot-four Hawaiian

cousin drag him into the cluster of men who were writhing on the deck of
the house. Bastian couldn't deny that it felt really good to dance, even if it
was with Makani. The man was sleek and solid, like a seal. No defined
musculature, but clearly strong and solid under a layer of flesh that Bastian
couldn't call fat.

Makani was beautiful, Bastian decided in his slightly buzzed state. He

had that dusky, Polynesian skin and Island eyes, high cheekbones and full,
plump lips.

Bastian figured that under different circumstances, he might be

attracted Makani. If they weren't cousins and Makani wasn't so woefully too
old for him. He wasn't attracted, though. Even if the whole cousins part
hadn't been an issue, Bastian wasn't sure he liked feeling petite, and with
Makani, he definitely did.

His own body was smaller and much leaner than Makani's. Bastian

was only five foot nine or so, though he seemed to be still growing. He'd
played soccer and lacrosse in high school, neither of which lent themselves

to a guy becoming big or bulky. But he wasn't any sort of dainty flower, and
Makani's sheer size -- the man probably outweighed Bastian by a good sixty
pounds in addition to the near half-foot of height -- made Bastian feel
uncomfortably tiny by comparison. Makani did like to sweep Bastian up
without notice, which only added to the discomfort.

Even so, Bastian laughed and danced with Makani, enjoying the

sensation of being able to shake and shimmy. He even let Makani spin him a
few times, those big, thick-fingered hands controlling Bastian's movements,
and yeah, Bastian didn't like that sensation at all. Bastian might not be huge
and uber-masculine like some steroid-loader, but he was still a guy.

Yes, he liked Makani and liked the man's body. It was the perfect

body for Makani to have. But Bastian didn't want Makani. He didn't want to
get naked and roll around with the guy, didn't feel any urge to get up close
and personal with the few parts of Makani he hadn't already seen... and he'd
seen plenty, what with the both of them enjoying surfing and sharing a
bathroom at Bastian's aunt and uncle's house.

Makani danced like a spazz on crack. And he got grabby as he drank,

damn it, hands in all the wrong places, but Bastian did his best to avoid the
hand-led lunges. The last thing he needed was to end up in some sort of
clench where his drunk-ass cousin might hump him or something.

The whole gross-out factor aside, Bastian figured the guy would be

totally mortified later, and the last thing Bastian needed was to lose the one
real friend he had over something that stupid. So when Makani made another
playful-looking lunge, Bastian stepped back even more. This time, he
impacted with another body. Hard.

"Oh, shit!" Bastian turned, then looked down at the guy he'd just

literally knocked onto the wooden deck. He forgot all about Makani's grabby
hands, and even about Makani, when his eyes met a startled, pained brown
gaze. "Are you okay?" He extended a hand to help the guy up, and even with
the six or so other hands being extended, the poor guy on the floor took
Bastian's.

"I'm fine," the guy said, then he laughed, apparently seeing that

Bastian didn't believe him. "Well, okay. I might end up with a bruise on my
ass, but nothing's broken. Uh, I'm Chase, by the way."

Bastian swallowed hard, even as he levered the guy up from the floor

with a strong tug on Chase's hand. "Bastian. Sorry again. I didn't mean to--"

It's cool," Chase said with a smile. "So, you want to dance or

something?"

Chase wore board shorts and a T-shirt covering a body that looked

strong but not bulky. His brown hair was red-tinged, probably by the sun,
and his brown eyes were as warm and deep as chocolate fondue. The guy
wasn't all chiseled and toned, from what Bastian could tell, but he was...
normal. Kind of average until that smile. Chase was maybe an inch taller
than Bastian himself, and even with an obvious tan, much paler.

Bastian swallowed hard, forcing himself to release the guy's hand. "I

was sort of dancing with my friend," he said softly, hiding the desire to wrap
his arms around Chase. It was true, anyway. He'd been dancing with Makani
until those grabby hands had made him knock Chase over.

Chase was still smiling, those brown eyes shining. Not to mention,

Chase was much closer to Bastian's age -- and not related to him. Bastian
figured Chase couldn't be more than twenty or twenty-one. Whatever.

"Your friend..." Chase sounded confused, and Bastian turned to point

out Makani, but the man wasn't there.

"I guess he went for another drink," Bastian said with a shrug. "Sorry.

He really was here just a minute ago."

Chase laughed. "So if he's not here right now, does that mean we can

dance? Because it's not like you owe me or anything, but I think you're
really hot and I'd love to dance with you."

Bastian didn't notice that he'd moved, but the next thing he knew, he

was holding Chase's hand again and they were swaying to the music. And if
they were doing so less quickly than the other people dancing, shifting just
fast enough to hold onto each other and enjoy the way their bodies rubbed,
well that was fine. Bastian thought it might count as foreplay. And from his
very limited experience, he did love foreplay.

***

Chase was in the bathroom, or maybe just in line for the bathroom;

Bastian wasn't sure. He had about zero doubt that Chase would be back
eventually, though. In the meantime, Bastian was fine with leaning against
the wall beside one of the big glass doors of the house. It was closed and
blocked by deck seating and a few people, but beyond all that he could see
the ocean, waves pounding the sand rhythmically. He was sure he would be
able to hear it, if not for the music, but even without the surround-sound
effect, the water was gorgeous under the light of the half moon. It was even
prettier than the beaches back home, though the thought felt like a betrayal
of his Cali-boy roots.

"Little haole! There you are!" Except Makani's little sounded more

like leel, and his there came out all hick-like, as thar. Was there even such a
thing as a Hawaiian hick? "I brought you a drink!" Brah yuh a dring.
Apparently Makani had gotten up close and personal with the liquor cabinet
while Bastian had been dancing.

"Okay. Thanks," Bastian answered, though he wasn't that excited

about real booze. He'd had some tequila once, at a party a couple years
earlier, and he still remembered how sick he'd gotten. "What is this?" he
asked, looking at the plastic cup of dark liquid in his hand. It looked like
Coke but it sure didn't smell much like it.

Makani grinned and leaned against the wall next to him. Bastian gave

a brief thanks to the powers that were for that much. If Makani had leaned
against the glass door so heavily, Bastian wasn't sure the glass would have
held. "It's rum. And Coke. And some of that raspberry stuff. You'll like it."
Yul lyg ed. God, how much had Makani had to drink? He was slurring like
he had a built-in distortion switch that kept accidentally being flipped.

"Um, okay. Thanks?" Pretty much exactly what he'd said when his

cousin had handed him the drink in the first place, but damned if Makani
seemed to notice because that wide grin somehow got even wider.

"Drink!" Makani ordered and Bastian sighed but took a small sip.

"Yum," he said, trying to pretend the drink tasted like anything but a

sweet mess. There was a tiny bit of coolness to it that Bastian thought was
the rum, but other than that? Yeah, it tasted like a Roy Rogers, and Bastian
hated those with a fiery passion. "Thanks again, Makani. It's great." And as
soon as Makani went back to whatever he'd been doing, Bastian was going
to get rid of the awful concoction.

Or as soon as Chase got back from the bathroom, Bastian qualified,

because when Bastian looked past his cousin, Chase was winding his way
through the guys standing around. Chase was obviously looking for
someone, and Bastian guessed it was him when that brown gaze met his and
Chase waved.

"Sorry, Makani," Bastian said, smiling. "I promised Chase a dance.

Let me know when it's time to leave, okay?" Makani frowned, the grin
suddenly gone, and just to distract him, Bastian took another, bigger sip
from the cup of cloying, sugary sweetness. "Yum! See you later, man!"

It would have been polite to introduce Chase to Makani, but the last

thing Bastian needed was for his obviously drunk cousin to say or do
anything embarrassing in front of the guy Bastian was sort of crushing on.
Besides, Makani seemed to be perfectly happy just holding up the wall. If
Makani was anything like the guys Bastian had gone to school with, he
would slide down that wall eventually and end up napping on the floor.
Judging from a few other lumps in various corners, it wasn't entirely
uncommon.

"You're back," Bastian said, taking Chase's hand in his free one. "I

was starting to think you fell in."

Chase laughed and shook his head. "Oh, man. I almost suffocated,

trying not to breathe in there after the guy who went in before me. I don't
know what he's been eating, but I'm never going into a bathroom after him
again; that's for sure!" Bastian laughed, too. "More dancing?" Chase added,
and yeah. That seemed like a plan.

Bastian looked around for somewhere to get rid of the too-sweet drink

he still held, but all the closest surfaces were littered with tall stacks of dirty
cups and other trash. "Fuck it," he muttered, tossing back the rest of the
drink and adding his cup to the first tower they passed. "Yeah, let's dance,"
he added as they returned to the deck through the open glass doors that
matched the one Makani still leaned beside.

There was no furniture blocking the open door, which probably

explained why the first door had been closed. Even with the seating blocking
that door, some idiot would have decided to crawl over the furniture or
something, Bastian was sure, and that could only end badly, especially as the
night went on. Whoever was throwing the party obviously knew it. Of

course they did, Bastian thought. If an eighteen year old could figure it out,
then whoever owned the house could, too. Duh.

Two songs in, the rum started catching up to him. Bastian could feel

the sweat breaking out on his forehead, even with the nice breeze coming
over the waves. The dizziness started next, just like it had done when
Bastian had tequila that time. He held on to Chase tighter, fighting the
instinct to just sit down on the deck in the middle of the other dancers as his
knees grew weak. "Shit."

"Hey, you okay?" Chase wasn't dancing anymore. Then again, Bastian

finally noticed, neither was he. "Seriously, man, you look sort of spacey."

Bastian closed his eyes and let his head droop forward onto Chase's

shoulder. "I don't feel so good, all of a sudden." Alla suttin. God, he sounded
just as bad as Makani. And maybe that was why he'd never seen Makani
drink before. Maybe it was some family thing and they all got drunk on hard
liquor, which would definitely be weird because Bastian knew from
experience that he, at least, could down more than a six pack of beer without
feeling anything like as woozy as he was right then, and his Dad could
definitely put back the booze when he had to. On the other hand, the whole
tequila experience seemed to support the theory, but whatever.

"You look like you're about to puke," Chase murmured and maybe

Chase was right. Or maybe it was just the suggestion that had Bastian's
stomach roiling. He couldn't be sure. "Come on," Chase said. "Maybe you
just need some air."

It sounded stupid because they were already outside, weren't they?

There was plenty of air around. Bastian didn't say so, mostly because he had
a feeling that if he opened his mouth it wouldn't be words that poured out.
Instead, he let Chase lead him through the dancing bodies to some stairs
Bastian hadn't even known were there.

There weren't many of them. Stairs, he meant. Only six, or maybe

seven. Bastian couldn't swear to an actual number because he lost count
around five. He only knew it wasn't many after that. Then he was standing
on yielding sand and Chase's arm was around his waist. It felt good, Bastian
decided. Not good enough to completely distract him from his leaping
stomach, which seemed to be trying to turn itself inside out, though.

"Come on," Chase said again. "Let's get you away from the house.

You really do look like you're about to--" Bastian felt some sort of whine
start in his throat and Chase obviously heard it because the guy paused for
just a moment before going on. "Let's find somewhere quiet to sit, Bastian.
The noise can't be helping."

They made it a whole forty or fifty feet, Chase steering, before

Bastian fell to his knees and lost the fight with his stomach. He was both
grateful and embarrassed that Chase dropped down beside him and rubbed
his back while Bastian spewed splash after splash of purple-black liquid onto
the sand.

"I'm sure there's worse stuff that's happened on this beach," Chase

said when Bastian finally stopped heaving. One warm hand continued to
slide lightly up and down Bastian's back and it was comforting, even though
Bastian was still fucking mortified. "You might want to think about not
drinking so much when you're out, though. I mean, I've been there, man. It
happens. But it's more comfortable when it happens at home." He shrugged.

Bastian sighed and swallowed, then made a face at the taste lingering

in his mouth. "Dude. I was fine before. I had some beer. Then I drank that
nasty-ass shit Makani gave me. Some rum-and-diabetes-begging shit. I don't
run around drinking 'til I puke, okay?" He really didn't. He'd learned his
lesson about real liquor. Twice now, damn it. "I totally feel better, though."

Chase shrugged. "Okay. So, I guess we should bury this spot or

something."

Bastian thought about it for a second, his mind still a bit fuzzy but

already much less than before. "No," he said, frowning a little. "We're not
that far from the party. Other people might head down this way. If they do,
they'll at least be able to see it if they look." Chase seemed surprised and
Bastian blushed, though he hoped the moonlight didn't show it the way a
sunny day would have. "I'd be royally pissed off if I stepped in someone's
covered-up sick by accident," he explained. "But if it was right there and I
stepped in it because I wasn't paying attention, it'd be my own fault, right?"

Another one of Chase's laughs filled the air and Bastian smiled. Even

though he still felt vaguely shit-like, he smiled. "That doesn't mean I want to
sit here and stare at it like it's about to show me the secrets of the universe,"
Bastian added, "but I think it's a valid point."

"How old are you?" Chase sounded a little bit strange. "Because you

look like borderline jailbait, but you sound way older. I'm having a hard time
figuring out whether you just look really young or if you're way more
mature than you should be."

Bastian chuckled, his throat still raw from booze and bile. "I'll be

nineteen next month, but I grew up pretty much surrounded by adults
whenever I wasn't at school or kicking the ball around. Plus, I'm an only
child. I'm not any more mature than anyone else my age, I guess, but I might
be better at speaking in complete sentences. Shit, the stuff other guys got
away with on papers and things, senior year? My folks would have kicked
my ass." No matter how much Bastian hated his parents' decision to send
him off to cousin Makani for de-gaying, they'd seen to it that he was neither
ignorant nor unable to present himself well. Most times, he didn't mind.

Chase smiled and rubbed Bastian's back a little more. Bastian leaned

into the small caress until Chase pulled away, though the guy didn't go far.
"How about we move up the beach a little. Or down. I still don't know which
way is which. But we should move, Bastian. We'll find a good spot and I'll
go back to the house to get us some water. Then we can watch the ocean and
talk, if you want."

Well, Bastian couldn't exactly say that he was super-hyped about

talking, but considering the display he'd just put on for Chase, the offer was
way better than he had any right to expect. Before his stunning display of
digestive eruptions, Bastian had actually hoped that he and Chase might end
up somewhere private for purposes that had more to do with using their
cocks than their mouths. He wouldn't have objected to the use of mouths,
granted, but that was a whole other kind of usage, as there would --
hopefully -- have been cocks involved, as well. And hands. Especially
hands. After the way Chase had stroked his back, Bastian was more than
interested in Chase's hands.

Unfortunately, none of that was being offered, but Bastian liked

Chase, so he nodded. "Okay. And I don't know which way is up or down,
either. On the beach, I mean." He cocked his head and glanced at Chase
from the corner of his eye. "I'll go sit on that... whatever that is." Bastian
pointed to a big, washed-out looking mass about a hundred or so feet further
from the house. It could have been a boat of some kind, or possibly a
downed palm. It was too far away and the moonlight wasn't quite bright
enough to make out details at that distance.

Chase stood, then helped Bastian to his feet. "If we keep this up, we're

gonna need kneepads," Chase said, then "No, I meant because we just met
and we've both already ended up on the ground, not... Never mind. And I'll
be back with some water. Uh, I'll meet you over there, by the... thing."

Bastian stared after Chase's swiftly retreating back and shrugged, then

turned away. A smile curved his lips as he made his initially shaky but
strengthening way to what turned out to be a cross between the things he'd
thought. The shape on the beach was a downed palm tree that someone had
started hollowing out, presumably to make some sort of canoe.

It clearly wasn't finished yet, and while Bastian couldn't claim to be

any sort of authority, the little bit of detail he could make out seemed to
imply that there was more than one person involved in the work. One
seemed to be more skilled than the other, as well as stronger, because when
Bastian trailed his fingers over the slices and gouges that were there, he
could feel that one side was done in long, clean strokes while the other was
more haphazard, with slivers and splinters of wood sticking out at odd
intervals.

It reminded him of something, though he couldn't think what, right at

first. It wasn't until he'd sat down in the sand, his back resting against the
braced canoe-to-be that it hit him.

The canoe, and its completely disparate qualities of work, reminded

him of the playhouse he and his father had started when Bastian was only
seven. Bastian had been an only child for almost four years by then.

"Shit."

It was an old pain, and easily shrugged off, though Bastian knew there

were tears in his eyes. It left a sort of melancholy behind, but it always did.
No memories, of course, because Bastian had been too young, but yeah.
Melancholy was the word for all the might-have-beens-but-weren'ts.

Bastian stared at the moon, barely noting the passage of time until the

crunch-swish-suck of feet on sand nearby dragged him from his thoughts.

"Chase," he said, happier than he expected to be at seeing the guy

again. Sure, Chase had said he was coming back, but Bastian would have
understood if Chase had decided to cut his losses and ignore the convulsing
puke-machine Bastian had been for a little while. "It's someone's project," he

explained, slapping a hand against the palm tree trunk behind him. "I figured
it'd be better to lean on it. We don't want to screw it up by accident, right?"

Chase gave him another of those weird looks but shrugged. "Okay.

Here." Bastian accepted the bottle of water gratefully. "Your drunk-ass
boyfriend is looking for you, by the way," Chase added, still standing. "He
was stumbling around asking everyone if they'd seen his 'little howler,'
whatever the fuck that means."

Bastian frowned as he opened the water, taking a mouthful and

swishing it around a bit. He spit it onto the sand on the side away from
Chase, then he took a long swallow and let loose a small belch as he pulled
the plastic from his lips. "What boyfriend?" He frowned. "You mean
Makani?" His frown deepened. "Okay, can I just say gross? He's my cousin!
And he's way too old for me. Plus... have you seen him? Because seriously,
Chase, I have, and I pity his fiancee, unless she's loose as a... I don't know
what, but Makani is the last guy I'd want to have taking my virginity. God,
he'd probably leave me busted open enough to drive a truck in there!"

Okay, maybe he wasn't as sober as he'd thought, Bastian realized,

even with all the puking. "Um, sorry. Just forget I said that. The important
part is... Makani's my cousin, who seems to be guarding my ass like it's a
national treasure, and maybe it is. And that whole 'little howler' thing is 'little
haole'. It sounds like howly, but I'm pretty sure it's spelled differently. He's
called me that ever since I got here. I guess because I'm from California and
he's huge. Well, compared to me, he's huge." He shrugged and drank some
more water, feeling his body soak it up. At least, that's what Bastian
assumed he was feeling because the low-grade headache that hadn't even
registered until it went away was gone. "So, I haven't seen you around
before."

Chase chose that moment to collapse on the sand, then maneuver

himself until he was leaning up against the tree-canoe right beside Bastian.
Then Chase took the cap from his own water and Bastian watched as the
guy's long, lightly-tanned throat worked at swallowing. He carefully held
back his own groan at the sight, though he wasn't sure why watching
someone swallow -- even someone as cute as Chase -- was exciting, but it
was. Bastian's cock was halfway to hard just from that simple sight.

"I'm from Connecticut," Chase said when he finally finished drinking.

It couldn't have been more than seconds, but it had seemed longer while

Bastian was watching that throat work. "I came here to check out some
schools. I've been studying mechanical engineering, but I don't really think
that's my passion."

"Could I be?" The words left Bastian before he even knew he was

thinking them, and try as he might, he couldn't rewind time to take them
back. This time, his blush was hot enough, strong enough, that he had no
doubt Chase saw it. Bastian was pretty sure the heat of his face was visible
from space, if any of the satellites up there were using thermal imagery.
"Um, forget I said that. Shit!" He drained the rest of the water from the
bottle he held, then used the tree-canoe as leverage to get quickly to his feet.
"Sorry. I need to piss, man. Guess I'm drunker than I thought." It was a lie,
but it would do. He needed a little breathing room, and maybe a few minutes
to reboot his brain-to-mouth filter, too.

Bastian stumbled over the sand, moving away from the ocean. He

didn't hear Chase get up, but Chase's arms wrapping around him from
behind and halting his dubious progress was enough indication that Chase
hadn't simply stayed where he'd been. "Look, Chase," Bastian started, and he
had no idea about where he was going with that. None at all. He was sure he
would have pulled something out of nowhere, but Chase didn't give him a
chance.

Chase's lips found the back of his neck and Bastian shivered just a bit

at the warmth of them. The air around them wasn't cold or even slightly
chilly, but Chase's lips seared him. Not physically, because it wasn't a
physical kind of heat, but they still seared Bastian, somehow. They left that
chill behind that only followed a good burn. "Oh, God."

"You know," Chase whispered, his lips at Bastian's ear rather than his

neck, but still searing, "I really did think you might be under eighteen
before. But I never would have figured you for a virgin, considering the way
you danced with me."

Chase's arms tightened and Bastian moaned softly at the sensation of

Chase's denim-clad groin, hard and prominent, pressing against his own
jeans-encased ass. "Oh. God."

Chase laughed, soft and shaky. "Is that all you're gonna say? 'Oh

God'? I mean, I'm flattered, but that kind of hype is really hard to live up to.
Tell me you kiss."

Those last words were so unexpected that Bastian froze. Then Chase

sighed, just a little, and that thawed Bastian, especially his tongue.

"No, I do, it's just I've done some stuff with guys and they usually

don't want to kiss, but I like kissing, okay? It's nice and warm and kind of
hot -- well, more than 'kind of,' because it's all slick and sexy and stuff, but
some guys think it's girly or whatever, so they don't want to, but I think it's
good, and--"

And Chase's body pressed even tighter to Bastian for just a second

before those arms loosened. "Wha...?" Bastian managed to say while Chase
stepped around him, but Chase's mouth cut off the end of the word, as well
as erasing any others Bastian might have said. There was no reason to talk,
anyway, Bastian realized. No point to more conversation when Chase's
mouth opened against his and the strong, slick muscle that was Chase's
tongue invaded his own mouth so skillfully.

No reason to do anything at all, other than hold on to Chase and lose

himself in the entirely unsubtle but amazingly heated slide of lips and
tongues and bodies that, fully clothed, still felt damned good rubbing
together.

***

Four days of Chase, and Bastian thought he might go insane from

waiting the ten minutes until Chase met him at the arcade near the beach.
They seemed to have a thing for beaches, Bastian thought with a smirk.
There had been a beach that first night they'd met, over on Kauai, where
Chase was staying. They'd made out a lot that night, before it had gotten so
late that Chase needed to go back to his hotel and Bastian had retreated to
the party-house, where he and Makani had ended up crashing on two of the
chairs on the deck as the party wound down.

That beach had figured prominently in Bastian and Chase's activities

the next day, too, because considering how drunk Makani had been, Bastian
had figured it was a safe bet to tell Chase they'd still be there in the morning.
Makani'd had a hangover until close to three p.m., so Bastian and Chase had
been able to hang out a bit more. They'd had coffee, offered by a barefoot
and shirtless man who'd wandered out onto the deck a few minutes after
Chase had arrived to meet Bastian.

They'd walked along the waterline, small bits of foam clinging to their

toes, and talked about all sorts of things.

"My family sells fruit," Bastian had told Chase when Chase asked

why he was in Hawaii. It was even true, as far as it went. "I'm doing this sort
of work-study thing with some growers they know. So, why are you
studying mechanical engineering if you don't like it?"

Chase shrugged in response, then took Bastian's hand and Bastian

blushed a little at that touch in the bright light of day.

"It's what my dad does," he'd said after a moment. "My dad's partner,

too. I guess I figured they expected me to follow in their footsteps. And I
don't hate it or anything. I mean, I'm pretty good at the studying part of it, so
far, but when I think about myself in twenty years, or even ten?" Chase bit
his own lip and frowned a little. "I'm pretty sure I'd be miserable doing that."

Bastian couldn't even imagine what it would be like to spend years

studying something he didn't like and thinking he was stuck with doing it
anyway. He might have some disagreements with his own folks about his
personal life, but he knew selling fruit was in his blood. He loved it, most of
the time. The smell and feel of ripe guava and bright dragonfruit,
sun-warmed and heavy in his hands, sweet but tangy on the air... yeah,
Bastian loved it. He even loved seeing the smiles on the faces of customers
at the farmer's markets where they sold their still wonderful but less-pretty
offerings.

"Lucky for me," Chase had gone on then, "Dad and Mo figured it out

somehow. Maybe because my GPA slipped, or maybe my ex, Jonas, told
them. Probably Jonas. He can be kind of an asshole when he wants to be.
And Dad did start prying right after I ditched Jonas. But whatever." Chase
smiled and it had Bastian's stomach doing some weird fluttery thing. "Dad
and Mo asked, and I told them I wasn't totally thrilled with mechanical
engineering. I guess they talked about it for a while, because a couple days
later, they told me to think about what I did want to do while I finished out
the term. Next thing I knew, I was running all over the place looking at
schools."

Bastian smiled then. The amazed happiness in Chase's voice hadn't

left him much choice. "Cool. So, can I ask you something that's none of my
business?"

Chase shrugged, his fingers tightening around Bastian's in a way that

felt really good. Then Chase jumped a little and Bastian laughed as a larger
wavelet than the earlier ones splashed on his legs, casting drops up onto his
shorts. "You could have warned me!" Bastian announced, still laughing.

Chase's smile broke out more fully and Bastian noticed again just how

quickly that expression took Chase from ordinary to extra. "I could have, but
where's the fun in that? You want to know which schools I'm looking at in
Hawaii, right?"

Bastian blinked. "No. Or yes, but not right now. I guess I was

wondering... Well, you said your dad and his partner." He blushed again.
"Does that mean your dad is..."

"What? Gay?" Chase's laugh was bubbly, all of a sudden. It sounded

almost exactly the same, but Bastian could hear the difference. Like Chase
was not just amused but being tickled or something. "Yeah," he said easily
as they walked on. He released Bastian's hand but wrapped his arm around
Bastian's shoulders before Bastian could miss the touch.

"It was one of those 'gay boy meets girl, doesn't want to be gay,

marries her and has a kid, then finds out she's a lesbian and was trying to be
normal, too' things most people only read about. Neither one of them wanted
to be gay, so they did their best not to be. It was a big fucking mess for a
while, but Mom and Dad are both happy now." Chase shrugged, and when
his arm tightened around Bastian's shoulders, Bastian let himself be drawn
even closer, his own arm snaking around Chase's waist. "Dad's been with
Mo -- Mohammed -- for ten years as of last month, and Mom isn't exactly
settled down yet, but she dates. A lot."

Bastian still wasn't sure, even three days later, whether he envied

Chase or not. It had to be easier to be gay with gay parents -- parents who
weren't so disappointed by their son's sexuality that they sent him away to be
de-gayified -- but while Bastian wasn't thrilled with the way his own folks
had reacted, he was pretty sure he wouldn't trade them in for anything.

They hadn't disowned him or even yelled. Instead, they'd just derailed

his original plans and sent him off to learn more about the daily ins and outs
of the family business. Granted, he wasn't working for family while in
Hawaii, but it was good to experience what all the workers went through.
His folks had said it would give him a greater appreciation for details, but

Bastian figured it just made him sympathize with the men and women who
worked in the fields. He really did sympathize with them, too. At least he did
when he was coming off a shift, feeling like a giant ball of sweat and stink,
tired muscles aching from the constant reaching or bending, depending on
which plot was being harvested that day. He usually forgot about the
sympathizing by the time he'd had a cool shower and hit the beach.

Like the beach he was looking at right then, from his spot beneath the

small bit of shade provided by the overhang of the arcade's roof while he
waited for Chase.

The sun was still high in the sky, but there was nothing strange about

that. It was only October, after all, and there was still a fair bit of daytime
left. Bastian was working, sure, but his days started before sun-up, and
ended long before sun-down, just like every other worker under the age of
twenty-one at the farm he worked. It wasn't a statewide rule or anything. It
was just how the family he was working for did things. Bastian couldn't
swear to it, but he figured they had kids on the field-crew, or else they'd had
kids there in the past and had kept the stricture in place.

Either way, it let Bastian meet Chase while there were still a good

number of hours in the day, so he was all for it.

"Bastian!" The voice came from his left and Bastian turned, already

smiling. The smile faded a bit when he saw Makani. "What's up, little haole?
You planning on some game-play? I might be willing to take you on."

Ugggh. Like Bastian ever wanted to play video games with Makani

again. He'd tried it for the first month or so after arriving on Oahu, but
Makani insisted on wagering chores on the outcome, then got all pouty and
whiney when Bastian won. It was annoying, not to mention stupid.

Of course, Bastian couldn't say as much, so he amped up his smile and

shook his head. "Nah, coz. Just waiting for Chase. We'll probably hit the
beach or something, but you have fun."

Makani's good-natured grin disappeared in less than a second,

becoming a frown. "You're making a mistake, wasting so much time on that
haole. He's a traveler. You'd do better to spend your nights on one of na
wahine. The women who seem to find your skinny ass hot."

Bastian rolled his eyes at his cousin. "Dude. Just because you went

through some weird bisexual phase doesn't mean I'm like you, okay?
Whatever the fuck you did in college, it's none of my business. But I've
never been into girls and I'm not about to pretend I am. I might not have
actually had cock yet, but I know what I want." He felt a little bit militant,
stating it like that. "Besides, you've taken me to gay bars and parties and
shit, man. It's kind of messed up that you're acting all offended about it
now." More than just kind of, if Bastian was being honest.

"And I met Chase at that last party, anyway," Bastian added. "He's a

decent guy, so far, and you don't get to call him haole like that. Fuck, I'm an
'outsider,' too. A 'traveler,' if you want to call it that." Bastian narrowed his
eyes, glaring at his cousin. "I'm not going to be staying here after my
parentally-mandated year, so if you're going to say 'haole' about Chase and
sneer like that, you need to say it the same way to me."

Makani snorted, and for some reason Bastian noticed how pig-like it

sounded. He'd heard Makani snort probably thousand of times before, but
this time it seemed more animalistic and less human.

"Fine," Makani grumbled, his gaze leaving Bastian and seeming to

move to the horizon. "If you can't see that I'm worried about you, I'll leave it
alone. But when he breaks your fucking heart, you remember, little haole.
Remember I warned you, hey?"

Then Makani turned away to walk inside the arcade, leaving Bastian

standing there saying, "Chase isn't like that!" to the uninterested and
oblivious Waikiki tourists.

He blushed, deep and hard, then settled himself against the wall again,

shoulder blades pressed tight to the wood. Fucking Makani. Fucking asshole
cousin. Shit.

"You're right, y'know." Another voice -- Chase's voice, this time --

and coming from the other side of him. It had Bastian turning quickly, the
point of one shoulder remaining almost glued to the wall. "I'm not like that,"
Chase said, his voice becoming more of a murmur as he reached Bastian's
side. The low, intimate tone made Bastian shiver.

"I know," Bastian answered, his own voice just as soft as Chase's

ended. "Can we go somewhere? Please? I just want to hang out, you know?
With you, not my asshole cousin."

Chase smiled, his forehead moving closer until it pressed against

Bastian's, leaving nowhere for Bastian to look other than into those wide,
brown eyes. "We could go to my room," Chase said. "My new room."

"New room?" Bastian echoed, and it was definitely a question. "You

have a new room?"

Chase chuckled, still so close that Bastian could feel the sound

shivering through Chase's body. "Okay, here's the thing." Chase pulled away
just enough that Bastian could see he wasn't the only one blushing. "When I
first came here, I sort of figured all the islands were in a big bunch and it
didn't really matter where I stayed. Then I learned better, but the schools I
was looking at were all over the place, y'know?" Bastian nodded, wondering
what the hell was going on.

"So now I'm really just looking at two more schools and one of them

is in Honolulu, so I talked to Dad and Mo and they said it made sense to
change hotels. Especially once I told them about you being here on Oahu."
Chase blushed even more, which Bastian wouldn't have thought possible
before seeing it. Of course, he also couldn't believe that Chase had told his
father and his father's boyfriend about him, but that was a whole other thing
and wasn't really important right then, except it really kind of was.

"Wait. You told your dad about me?" Because it had only been four

days, and telling any parent about someone so soon seemed a little bit weird
to Bastian. Then again, if his own folks hadn't been so opposed to Bastian's
truth, maybe he would have mentioned Chase to them. In fact, when he
thought about it? Bastian was almost sure he would have. Just like he would
have said something to his parents if he'd been straight and met some girl he
really liked.

"Sorry," Bastian said next. "Forget that. So, you have a room?" Chase

nodded and Bastian grinned. "Any chance there's condoms and lube there?
Because I think we could really use both of those."

Chase laughed and took Bastian's hand again, clearly ignoring the

narrow-eyed gazes and muttered comments Bastian noticed coming from
around them. "Come on, Bastian. We're wasting time here."

As that was true enough, Bastian went. He was a little bit nervous

about those stares he could feel as much as see, though. Maybe more than
just a little.

***

It was a nice room Chase had at the Honolulu Hyatt. Bastian figured it

was probably twice the size of the room he shared at his uncle and aunt's
place. In contrast to the lived-in, cluttered bedroom he'd become familiar
with, Chase's temporary place was airy and had one hell of a view. The
furniture was sleek and streamlined and didn't seem to be influenced at all
by the tropical splendor outside, but there were small touches of island flair
here and there, just enough to whisper that the hotel was in Hawaii, rather
than shout it.

"This is nice," Bastian said, grinning as he kicked off his sneakers and

rubbed one bare foot over the soft pile of the carpet. "I wish I had this much
room to myself, man."

Chase shrugged a little. "It's okay. I was only here for long enough to

check in earlier, so I haven't had a chance to get used to it yet. I didn't want
to be late meeting you."

Bastian frowned slightly, then took a few steps deeper into the room

and turned. "Are you saying you wanted to see me? Because you're not
acting like it." Chase really wasn't. In fact, Chase was standing a good five
feet away and didn't show any signs of wanting to get closer. "Oh, cool TV!"
Bastian said, when Chase didn't seem to have an answer for him. "What kind
of cable do they have here, or is it satellite?"

Bastian grabbed the remote from where it sat on the dresser next to

the television, then flung himself onto the couch near the bed, putting his
bare feet up on the small glass coffee table as he hit the power button and
started flipping channels. "Surf report!"

He watched Chase from the corner of his eye and smiled slightly

when the couch cushions beside him sank a little as Chase sat down. Bastian
smiled even more when Chase finally reached over and brushed careful
fingertips over the back of Bastian's free hand where it rested on the couch.

"It's not you," Chase started to say, and Bastian laughed, deliberately

cutting him off.

"Dude! Seriously? I thought guys only fed that tired old 'it's not you,

it's me' line to girls!" Bastian laughed again when turning to look fully at
Chase showed him bright pink cheeks. "And just so you know, I'm a virgin,
not a girl, in case that wasn't obvious."

Chase's blush got deeper. "If you were a girl, this wouldn't even be a

problem. It's just... I don't know, Bastian." Chase sighed. "If you'd done it
before, I wouldn't be worried about it, but you haven't. I was, like, sixteen
when I started having sex, and that was with Jonas. We'd been sort-of dating
for six months by then, and it was still a pretty big fucking deal. I mean, it
hurt. A lot. I probably never would have done it again if I'd been with
anyone but Jonas, because somehow that made it okay, y'know? So I guess
I'm a romantic or some shit because I keep thinking you'll regret it if we do
it... and I'm only here for another six days. I guess I don't want you to look
back on it later and have a whole shitload of regrets, okay?"

That didn't make a whole lot of sense, as far as Bastian was

concerned. It was cool that Chase was romantic or whatever, but Bastian
wasn't looking to be in love. He just wanted to fuck, for God's sake. Well,
for his own sake more than God's, but Chase seemed to be really weirded
out about fucking. Shit.

Still, there was a chance, Bastian figured. Maybe he could work Chase

up to the actual ass-fucking. They had almost a week; Bastian was sure he
could manage it.

"Fine," Bastian said, doing his best to sound grumpy as all hell. "You

don't want to fuck me. Got it. I guess the next question is... do you have any
weird-ass romantic problem with blowing me? 'Cause I could go for that
right now, too."

Bastian's slow grin was met by Chase's sudden smile, though Chase

added a large amount of eye-rolling. "You just want to get off," Chase
accused, and Bastian smirked.

"Well, duh. What guy doesn't? If it helps, I've actually sucked cock

before, so you can relax about that when it's your turn. My mouth isn't as
virginal as the rest of me." That was stretching the truth a little because
Bastian hadn't so much sucked cock as licked cock, exactly once -- meaning
one single swipe of his tongue that had resulted in Bastian being treated to a
face-full of jizz -- but it was close enough. How hard could it really be?

Literal minutes later, he had his answer, because the things Chase was

doing with mouth and tongue and lips were unbelievably, almost unbearably
good. More than good, they were blissful. Bastian had never felt anything
like it, and he suddenly understood how a single swipe of the tongue could
drive someone to coming. Bastian didn't shoot off quite that fast, but then
Chase hadn't spent close to ten minutes stroking Bastian's dick and rubbing
against him like Bastian had done to Johnny under the bleachers that one
time.

"Shit. Oh, shit. Fuck, Chase, you're good at this!" Bastian sucked in a

huge breath of air to replace what he'd expelled with the words. "Oh, fuck!"

His hips shifted on the edge of the couch, shorts shackling his knees

as he tried to spread them. He moaned loudly as Chase moved one hand
from Bastian's thigh, then cried out sharp and raw when that hand cupped his
balls, and that was it. Too much, or maybe just enough, because that cool,
slightly damp palm against his hot, tight sac had Bastian finishing, spurting
shot after shot of hot fluid into Chase's sucking mouth.

Bastian wasn't sure about when Chase moved. He had some vague

notion that the couch cushions had compressed again at some point during
the glowing sensation he was experiencing, but he couldn't nail it down to
seconds or minutes earlier. All Bastian knew for sure was that his t-shirt was
up around his armpits, his shorts were making a slow slide down his calves,
and his spit-slick cock lolled against his thigh, losing any lingering stiffness.
His eyes were closed, but that was fine. Bastian had a feeling he wouldn't be
able to focus even if they were open.

A rustle of fabric intruded on his post-orgasmic lassitude, and Bastian

took a deep breath, then released it as a sated sigh. "Dude," he managed to
say. "Fucking awesome."

Chase chuckled from beside him, then Bastian felt Chase's hand on his

own, and that was nice. It was even nicer when Chase's hand lifted Bastian's
and moved it, placing it directly onto hot, hard flesh encased in velvety-soft
skin.

"It was good for me, too," Chase answered, holding Bastian's hand

right there, which Bastian didn't mind at all. "I wouldn't be this hard if it
wasn't."

Bastian's eyes opened, even as he sat up straighter on the couch, and

he licked his lips when he looked at his own hand, surprised to see that

Chase's skin was darker there, where the sun didn't reach. Or maybe it was
just because Chase's cock was full and thick, because it for damned sure
was. Thicker than Bastian's, and Bastian would know, having held his own
dick more times than he could count. Not quite as long, but fuck it. Bastian
was a lot of things, but he wasn't the sort to discriminate with regards to
cock. He'd heard of plenty of guys who were into giant fucking
donkey-sized dicks, but he wasn't one of them.

Besides, Bastian had taken biology class, just like everyone else in his

high school, and had even done some research on his own -- of the
non-personal-experience variety. He figured that if the prostate could be
reached with fingers, then even an average-sized cock could do the job, and
as average was around six inches, Chase's close-enough-to-seven would feel
amazing. Chase's girth was maybe a little bit scary, if Bastian was being
honest, because he'd never really considered that anyone fucking him would
be bigger around than Bastian's own prick was, but he had a plan in place.
And maybe by the time that plan worked, Bastian would be familiar enough
with Chase's cock to feel less intimidated. At the moment, though, there was
a whole other plan. The suck-Chase-off plan.

"Oh, please," Bastian answered after the two seconds during which

he'd evaluated Chase's goods. "I'm pretty sure you were just this hard when
you were humping me outside the arcade. I could feel it."

"Probably." Chase's lips were settled into a smirk when Bastian

dragged his eyes from the cock in hand. "I think I've been this hard since we
met that first night. Except during the part where you were puking."

Bastian groaned. "Dude. Bring that up again and you'll totally kill the

mood." He wrapped his fingers carefully around Chase's hot shaft. "Your
skin is so soft," he added in a whisper.

Chase obviously didn't hear those last words, or else chose to ignore

them, because he slumped down on the couch, bare legs spreading wide.
"Okay. Not mentioning it again. Ever, Bastian. Now please, okay? Blow me,
man."

"I'm not sure my mouth will fit around it," Bastian said, teasing.

Chase was wide, but not that wide. "I'm sure as hell going to try, though."

The first swipe of his tongue against the deeply red tip of Chase's cock

garnered a gasp from Chase. The second had Bastian trying to decide

whether he liked the flavor of the droplets that appeared at Chase's tiny slit.
The taste was slightly bitter and a little bit musky, but there was an
undertone to it that Bastian couldn't identify.

He took another careful lap, still trying to catalogue that unknown

component when Chase groaned. "Stop fucking around," Chase grumbled.
"Fucking horny here!" Bastian laughed and got down to it, as daunting as the
task seemed now that Chase's cock was right there at his lips.

He took the head in easily enough, trying to be careful of his teeth.

He'd never felt teeth on his own prick, but it sounded painful. His tongue
swirled around the smooth dome, his tongue flicking lightly at that small
indentation on the underside of Chase's head. He couldn't remember what it
was called, but Bastian wanted to call it the pendulum... no, frenulum.
Whatever it was called, Chase arched and tried to push deeper into Bastian's
mouth when Bastian teased at it.

That unknown taste intensified, and Bastian moaned softly as he let

his mouth follow Chase's demands, sliding his lips down an inch or two. His
sense of accomplishment grew with every harsh breath Chase released.
Bastian enjoyed knowing that while he might be new to actually having a
cock in his mouth, Chase was enjoying it so far.

Bastian's hand stayed wrapped around the base of Chase's dick, and

even though he wanted to let go of it, Bastian was afraid to. Chase was
rocking up and down on the couch, driving the few inches of cock in
Bastian's mouth in and out, and the last thing Bastian wanted was to choke
on Chase's dick. That would be too fucking humiliating.

Instead, Bastian maintained that grip, his fingers somehow tightening

and loosening, stroking in small motions in time with his mouth. He thought
about taking his other hand from the couch to play with Chase's balls the
way Chase had played with his, but Bastian was leaning over, not on his
knees the way Chase had been, and he wasn't sure enough of his balance.

Riding a surfboard with his whole body required much less conscious

thought than riding Chase's cock with his mouth.

Bastian pulled back, his hand still jerking lightly at Chase's cock. He

teased Chase's frenulum again, then sucked hard at the thick, hot plug of
Chase's tip, and when Chase shouted something that might have been a
word, Bastian knew what was coming... or rather, knew Chase was coming.

The first gush of seed came as something of a shock to Bastian. Not in

the sense that he hadn't expected it, but he hadn't thought it would seem
quite so forceful. It was, though, forceful enough to fill his mouth and splash
against the back of his throat. He gagged slightly before it occurred to him to
swallow, and with that strange, unidentified flavor bursting through his
mouth, he did just that. Happily, just as Chase had done for him. It left him
feeling as glowing and fulfilled as when he'd come down Chase's throat.

It was only later -- a minute or so, probably, but still later -- that

Bastian realized he'd not only gotten hard while sucking Chase, but he come,
too. Probably while he'd been trying not to choke. The evidence was right
there on his thigh and Chase's thigh... and even on the couch. God.

"You're really good for my ego," Chase said a while later, when

Bastian was fully comfortable and enjoying the hotel bed. Neither of them
had bothered to peel the covers down, but that was fine as far as Bastian was
concerned. They were naked and lounging, enjoying the air conditioning
while the setting sun streamed in through the big window that was more like
a wall.

"How?" Bastian asked, enjoying the view and the way Chase's chest

felt under his cheek, the gentle slope of Chase's stomach under his hand.

Chase laughed and Bastian felt it make Chase's body shake, even

while Chase's hand roamed over Bastian's side.

"I guess because I'm so ordinary," Chase murmured, just loudly

enough for Bastian to hear him. "I mean, you're gorgeous, and I already
know you're really smart. It's just so cool that you want a regular guy like
me, y'know?"

Bastian rolled his eyes, even though he knew Chase couldn't see it.

"Dude. You're delusional. The last thing you are is 'ordinary.' Fuck, you
have the best smile ever." He paused for a moment, then went on. "And
maybe I lucked out in the genetic lottery, but you didn't do so bad yourself,
so shut the fuck up. Watch the fucking sunset, okay? Because that's way
more beautiful than either of us will ever be."

He didn't know whether Chase was rolling his eyes at that. Bastian

wouldn't blame him if he were, though. It was a stupid and sappy thing to
say, but that didn't make it any less true. "Besides," Bastian added, "I'm
wondering what else we can do, once the light-show is over."

He really was. The whole blow-job thing had worked out pretty

damned well, and that only made Bastian more certain that he'd be able to
talk Chase into the whole fucking-the-virgin thing in the next six days.

Sex didn't have to mean love, after all. Bastian was pretty sure it

would be just fine if sex meant liking-a-whole-lot instead.

***

Two days after first seeing Chase's hotel room, Bastian hadn't seen

much else. Sure, he still went to work and dealt with Makani's craziness, and
Chase had taken him to a restaurant one night, but the rest of the time... well,
Bastian had his own key-card and it would be fair to say that he was very
familiar with the channels on Chase's TV, as well as the water pressure in
Chase's shower and the strange strip of paint on the ceiling over Chase's bed
that was only visible in moonlight.

He was also familiar with the sensation of Chase's body pressed onto

his own, their cocks hard and more than happy to be rubbing against each
other in some bizarre nice-to-meet-you dance that only got better every time.

Bastian figured he should be happy with what he had. Chase didn't

deny him orgasms or anything, but Chase still wasn't willing to give Bastian
what he wanted above everything else. Chase wasn't willing to fuck him
because "It'll mean more when it's someone you really care about, Bastian,
instead of some guy you're just hot for right now."

God, weren't gay dudes supposed to be all about the fucking? That

was the impression Bastian had gotten from certain cable shows he'd seen
back in Cali. It was more than depressing to find out that what he'd seen on
TV wasn't real... or at least wasn't real where Chase was concerned.

Hell, Bastian almost wanted to lie and claim that he'd fallen in love,

but he didn't. He hadn't. He enjoyed every moment he spent with Chase and
he would for damned sure feel it like an empty place aching in his gut when
Chase left, but love?

Bastian snorted, just thinking about it.

He wasn't in love with Chase. He wasn't. He just really liked the guy,

and if Chase lived somewhere that wasn't all the way on the other side of the
U.S., well, Bastian could see himself spending years with Chase. Maybe as
many as three or four, he liked the guy so much.

As things were, Bastian was sure Chase would be really happy with

some other romantically-inclined guy, soon enough. Not years, but weeks, or
maybe even just days after Chase left Hawaii. No matter that Chase called
himself ordinary-looking, the minute the guy smiled, there would be all sorts
of dudes panting to get at him.

The thought didn't make Bastian queasy. Not at all. He wanted Chase

to be happy once they were separated. Hell, he was counting on it. And
they'd never see each other again after Chase left; Bastian was sure of that
much. After all, why would Bastian ever run into someone who wanted to be
a... whatever Chase wanted be? He hadn't actually gotten around to asking,
but there was about zero chance that it would involve fruit, which was
Bastian's life, Bastian's future. Chase was looking at schools in Hawaii, but
Bastian thought the guy planned to go back to Connecticut after college, to
practice whatever the hell Chase was going to study. And once Chase was
back home, yeah. Plenty of guys would be lining up to be the love of Chase's
life, assuming someone didn't get the position during Chase's schooling.

Not queasy at the thought. Not even a little bit. The roiling in his gut

didn't have anything to do with Chase's future. It couldn't.

Bastian shook his head and dragged his t-shirt off, tossing it onto the

couch, then stepped out of his sneakers and dropped his pants onto the floor
before making his way to the bathroom. He wished Chase were there, rather
than looking at whatever amenities whichever school he was checking out
might have.

God, Bastian was tired. The six hours he'd put in harvesting fruit had

been a nightmare, considering how unusually hot it had been that day. He'd
actually started shivering once he'd entered Chase's hotel room but was only
noticing it now.

The stinging spray of hot water felt better than Bastian expected, even

with having felt it before. He heard his own moan echoing from the tile
walls and was surprised by the volume. Of course, Chase wasn't there and
wouldn't be for another hour or so since he had an appointment with
someone at whatever school, so Bastian wasn't embarrassed. He simply

enjoyed the spray and reveled in the fact that in Chase's bathroom, nobody
would be pounding on the door if he took more than five minutes. It was a
luxury he didn't have at his aunt and uncle's house.

He washed his hair, shampooing twice, then soaped his hands and

body before letting the pounding streams of water rinse him. Then he
carefully applied the conditioner Chase loved so much.

In truth, Bastian loved it, too. It smelled like musk and vanilla. In fact,

it smelled almost like Chase, though whenever Bastian smelled it on Chase,
there was another tone underneath that made it so much better -- probably
Chase himself.

"If I can't have him inside me," Bastian murmured to the steamy air, "I

want to at least smell like him."

Yes, he felt stupid to be talking to himself the way he was, but Bastian

had never been good with silence, so he wasn't overly disturbed. He was
even less disturbed when he squeezed a bit of the thick, rich conditioner onto
his own fingers.

He remembered what Chase had said, about it hurting the first

however many times, but Bastian couldn't quite make himself care. Besides,
maybe if he experienced the pain on his own, he'd be that much more able to
talk Chase into fucking him. It was possible, he convinced himself, because
how could Chase truly refuse if Bastian had already been through the painful
part?

Bastian hitched one leg up, his foot resting on the edge of the tub, then

gritted his teeth and touched one conditioner-slicked finger to his own
asshole. The nerves there sang, driving Bastian to rub his finger over the
opening for a moment. God, it felt good. Right. Then he pressed against
himself, a small gasp leaving him when just the tip of his index finger
pushed inside.

It didn't hurt. That was the thing that struck Bastian most. It didn't

hurt, and the possible pain was exactly why he'd never tried this before. He
wasn't the kind of guy to enjoy pain, and even before Chase, Bastian had
always assumed that the first time anything was stuck up there would be
uncomfortable. He'd thought it would be worth it if he experienced it with
another guy, but fuck it. He would go through the hurting if it meant he
could have Chase, still his first after Bastian's own fingers. Yet having his

first finger just a half-inch or so inside didn't hurt.

It still didn't hurt when that same digit was another inch deeper, and

Bastian groaned. "Oh... yeah." He pushed his finger deeper, then added
another.

That was different. Still not painful, but Bastian definitely felt it. A

sort of burn around the edges of his hole that somehow reinforced Bastian's
desire to have Chase's cock in there. Not just anyone's, but Chase's. He didn't
want anyone else for his first time. If Chase still wouldn't fuck him, Bastian
figured he'd have to wait on sex until he got the hell over Chase.

That realization stunned him, but Bastian pushed it aside in favor of

enjoying the sensation of having his ass full, even if it was just with his own
fingers. But maybe two fingers wasn't enough. If he was going to pretend it
was Chase's cock inside him -- and Bastian definitely was -- then he needed
to at least try to approximate the girth of Chase's dick.

The third finger wasn't as easy to fit, even with extra conditioner, but

Bastian managed it. He even manage to spread them while he rode them,
pushing them apart against the objection of his hole, scissoring them as
much as he could manage.

He wanted to jerk himself off, but he needed the hand against the tiles

to stay exactly where it was. There was no way Bastian could manage to
stand on his own and still plunder his own ass.

Bastian managed to fit his pinky-finger in, eventually, and God, he

felt full. He didn't know why he hadn't come already. Then again, he hadn't
been trying to come, really. He'd been trying to imagine what it might feel
like to have Chase's thick cock up inside him, and no matter how many
fingers he used, Bastian didn't think it could be the same. Not that he had
any chance of knowing, so he rode his own hand hard, discovering that
trying to reach his own prostate while standing up was nearly impossible. He
managed a brush or two against that hot-button, but not enough to count.
Just enough to make him wish there was something more inside him.

Bastian groaned his own disappointment. "Fuck, I'm tired of waiting."

The words were loud again, almost too loud, but Bastian meant them.

He was tired of feeling like the only virgin on the face of the earth, and tired
of being a disappointment to his parents. He was even tired of fighting.

Right up until strong arms wrapped around him from behind and he heard
Chase's voice speaking into his ear.

"I wasn't going to do this," Chase said, his tongue flicking Bastian's

ear and making Bastian shudder. Of course, Bastian was already shuddering
from the sensation of Chase's cock against his ass, so hard and hot, even
with the heat of the water. "I really wasn't," Chase went on, "but I'm tired of
waiting, too. Even though I wasn't waiting. Fuck! I just need to..."

Chase somehow pulled Bastian's hand away, doing it in a manner that

didn't seem rushed, but still resembled desperate.

Bastian moaned at how empty he felt, but Chase didn't let that last.

Instead, Chase pressed the tip of his cock, hard and ready, to Bastian's hole,
and Bastian keened as the head of Chase's thick prick pushed inside, sliding
through on the slickness of the conditioner Bastian had used. As stupid as it
seemed, even to Bastian, he couldn't deny that he'd keened. Or that he'd done
so again when his own ass snapped closed around Chase's ridge.

"Oh, God," Bastian managed to say when Chase surged deeper, those

strong fingers digging into Bastian's hips. "Oh my fucking God. Chase!"

It felt like he was being torn in two, but not in a bad way. He was

being opened and stretched more than his own fingers could ever have
managed, and Chase's cock was so fucking hot, so thick, that Bastian
couldn't express, even to himself, just how right it felt.

He rocked back, spearing himself harder on Chase, and a loud gasp

left him as Chase's prick jogged his prostate. "Just like that," Bastian
demanded, and Chase clearly took him at his word because those strong hips
started slamming in and out, driving Bastian's body closer and closer to the
shower wall, and Bastian grunted every time, his cock so hard, he thought it
might burst. Hell, he wanted it to burst.

Then Chase reached around with one hand and grasped Bastian's

cock, and that was all it took. Bastian's whole body clenched and he pushed
back roughly as he came against the tiled wall of the shower.

He felt Chase's cock swelling just a bit inside him and the sensation

pushed a groan from his lips. The groan repeated, louder and deeper, as
Bastian felt Chase pull back then shove deep again, spilling long and hard
inside him.

The "oh, fuck, there was no condom" didn't hit until maybe five

minutes later, when Bastian couldn't pretend anymore that what was seeping
down his legs was water.

It freaked him out, but at the same time, it was Chase, so it sort of...

didn't. Which wasn't anything Bastian wanted to think about, so when he let
loose with baseless accusations and furious suppositions, he went with it.

He shouted, insisted Chase had been playing him just so Chase could

fuck him bare, because Chase should have known better, damn it.

Then Bastian grabbed his clothes, dragged them over his furious but

still happily-used body, and left.

He knew he was being irrational. Hell, Bastian even knew he'd

deliberately ignored whatever Chase had to say, but that was fine. He
convinced himself that he didn't feel lost and alone after leaving the hotel.

He'd wanted to lose his burdensome virginity, Bastian reminded

himself, and he'd done that. Chase was just the lucky guy Bastian had
chosen. The lucky guy Bastian had convinced to give him what he'd wanted.
That Bastian had gotten more than he'd planned on wasn't really Chase's
fault, but fuck it. It hadn't meant anything. It was just that they hadn't been
safe. It was over, though. Virginity gone. That was what counted.

He was still telling himself that when he got back to his aunt and

uncle's house. The thought kept him awake for hours.

***

When Bastian woke, his dreams had cleared a few things up for him.

Like... Bastian had been begging for it, with the way he'd fucked himself on
his own fingers, though he hadn't expected Chase to see and react that way.
Like... Chase would never have done what he did if Chase hadn't known
there was no chance of passing anything along. Bastian was sure of that.
And... he loved Chase.

It was stunning, shattering in a way. Bastian had always assumed that

love would be obvious, if it ever came along. And maybe it was. Maybe
Bastian just hadn't noticed it between the drunk-at-first and the sex-stupid

and whatever later. Maybe there was a difference between loving someone
and being in love with them, too, because while he knew he loved Chase, he
also knew nothing had really changed. Their lives were still destined to be
very different and there was no chance that they could be together for long.
Bastian was fine with enjoying what time they had left and going on their
separate ways, and maybe that was the difference between loving and being
in love, right there.

He wanted to run back to Chase's hotel. Wanted to burst into the room

and tell Chase he was sorry; that while he'd never expected to go bareback
with anyone, he trusted Chase; that he wasn't angry or anything, but had for
damned sure been surprised. But Makani was saying something about
having to drive Bastian to work -- Makani's usual morning rant -- and
Bastian figured he'd get a ride from someone later, or possibly take a bus to
Chase's hotel.

After seven hours of sweating while hacking through vines and

contorting around bearing-foliage to get at the not-quite-ripe fruit attached,
Bastian was more than ready to relax with Chase in Chase's room. After a
shower at his aunt and uncle's house, of course, because Bastian didn't even
want to smell himself. He had no doubt that Chase would appreciate not
being exposed to the stench of sweat, sun, and souring fruit pulp. There was
a reason most of the workers who had their own vehicles drove pickup
trucks. It made it easier to exile the majority of the stench to the open back
bed, though Bastian didn't mind that at all. The air felt good on his
overheated skin, all the way back to the house.

He rolled carefully over the tailgate of the truck -- he couldn't tell

which of the twin brothers he worked with owned the thing, but he called his
thanks for the ride and waved. Then Bastian strolled into the house, doing
his best not to limp from fatigue and the bruise growing on his knee where
he'd stepped wrong and landed badly, then drew up short at the sight of the
whole family -- aunt, uncle, cousin Makani and Makani's fiancee -- standing
in the kitchen, their faces drawn and serious.

"What?" he asked, something about those expressions creating a

horrible tightness in his gut. "What's going on?"

It was his aunt who answered him, while the others looked on, still

grave and looking tensely worried. "Bastian," she said softly, "I'm sorry. It's
your father. They think he's had a heart attack."

Bastian couldn't be sure but he thought his mouth might be moving,

though no sound seemed to be coming out.

"It only happened a few hours ago, but your mother wants you to

come home right away. I've already packed a carry-on for you. Your flight
leaves in two and a half hours, so you have time for a shower if you're quick
about it." She frowned, small creases showing at the corners of her eyes and
between her brows. "I'm sorry, honey. I know it's all a rush, but--"

"No," Bastian cut her off, his heart pounding roughly in his chest as he

tried to breathe. "No, it's fine. I. I'll just go get cleaned up and... ten minutes,
okay? God. I. Okay. I need to shower now."

He was in the bathroom moments later, with no recollection of leaving

the kitchen. His father had had a heart attack? Jesus! Dad was only
forty-three!

But he works too hard. He's always worked too hard. Mom's been

telling him that for years, now! And he drinks too much, and smokes more
than he should, and he eats more junk food than I do! God, what am I going
to do if he dies? He can't die! I'm not ready for him to be gone, and even if
we're not getting along right now, he's my father and I love him and he can't
die before we straighten our shit out! He just can't!

But if he did... God, Bastian didn't want his father to die at all, but

especially not without Bastian ever being able to say goodbye and thank his
father for giving him life, even with Dad not approving of Bastian's desires.
All that was just details, though. Gay, straight, whatever. What mattered was
getting back home and finding out what was happening. Hell, he couldn't
even call his mother. She would be at the hospital already, he was sure,
though he didn't know which one. Fuck, there was a lot of stuff he didn't
know.

One of those things was how he'd managed to finish his shower and

get dressed. Another was when the fuck he'd gotten into Makani's beater of a
car. By the time they arrived at the airport, neither of those things mattered
because Makani had the answers to the other questions.

Bastian's father was at Valley General, forty-five miles from home,

and there would be a car waiting for Bastian when his plane landed in San
Diego. The driver had already been told where to take Bastian, and Bastian's
mother would meet him when he arrived at the hospital. It was all arranged.

It wasn't until three days later that Bastian thought to call Chase at the

Hyatt. By then, though, Chase had already checked out. For the first time,
Bastian wished he'd gotten Chase's home address or phone number --
something. He would have liked to keep in touch, but he'd thought there
would be more time. Hell, he didn't even know Chase's last name, when he
thought about it. He might have heard it once, but if so, Bastian for damned
sure didn't remember it.

But Dad's going to be fine. That's what I need to focus on right now.

Not some guy who could have ended up being a really good friend. I'm glad
I met him. I'm even glad he was the first one I had real sex with. But it was
going to end anyway, and at least this way it's a clean break. Maybe staying
in touch would have been awkward or something.

Bastian wasn't actually sure that was true because he and Chase had

gotten along really well, but he'd heard that sex could make friendships
weird. Maybe it was a good thing that he wouldn't be finding out.

It was more important to think about helping Dad get better, anyway.

Help Dad get better and step up to help Mom with the business. She was a
strong, smart lady, but she couldn't do it all herself, especially when she
would have to watch Dad every minute for a while, just to keep him away
from the Scotch, cigars, and In-N-Out Burger franchises.

Bastian steeled himself to doing what he had to do, and to putting off

college for another year, if it came to that. Dad might make a full recovery
sooner than anyone expected, but Bastian wasn't counting on it. Yes, school
was important, though it had taken the possibility of being in charge without
any higher education to make him see it, but family was more important. No
matter what differences he and his parents had -- might always have -- they
were family. It was time, Bastian decided, that he started acting like it.

Part Two -- Hartford, Connecticut -- One Year Ago

"I'm taking off until four, Chef," Brenda, the hostess at Pink Salt

announced from the doorway of the Executive Chef's office. "I've forwarded
the reservations line to the bar, but remember to answer if it rings more than
three times in here. That means Gustavo's either really busy or can't answer
right then."

Bellamy Chase rolled his eyes and offered the mid-to-late

twenty-something-year-old woman a smile. "Pretty sure I already knew that,
but thanks. Go get Jimmy, Bren. You know he hates waiting around once
camp lets out."

Brenda laughed and flipped her highlighted brown hair back over one

shoulder. "Please. Jimmy's six. His wrath doesn't scare me. Some days, he's
lucky that I pick him up at all." The words themselves might sound cold, but
she said them with so much love, nobody would ever believe she did
anything but dote on her son. Brenda liked to talk a tough game, but she was
a creampuff underneath.

"Did you punch out?" Chase asked, groaning at her reply of, "Of

course I did, Bellamy. Now, why don't you try worrying about your menu for
Peter Jamison and his people, and stop worrying about what I'm doing?"

"Call me that name again and I'll fire you," Chase threatened, though

after three years working together, he doubted Brenda believed him. "I'm all
set for the Jamison party, just figuring out my timing, is all."

Brenda huffed out a small, annoyed sigh. "Okay. Just remember,

Durmont the fourth is going to be there. Nothing with mushrooms, unless
you want a replay of the last time."

Chase groaned again, at himself this time. "Seriously? D-four's

involved? Since when?" Shit, that totally screwed three of the six courses
Chase had planned for. Wallace Durmont the fourth, son of Durmont the
third and heir apparent to the Hotel Durmont, rarely spent any time on the
property. Hell, Chase had even heard that the youngest Durmont hated hotels
and wanted nothing more than to sell the place off, once Wallace Three

kicked the bucket. Hopefully that wouldn't be any time soon. The current
owner was only in his sixties and seemed to be damned healthy. Barring
accident or unexpected illness, Chase figured the old man had another good
twenty years in him, at least.

"Since last night," Brenda said, interrupting his thoughts. "Which you

would know if you ever bothered to check your email. Or your phone,
because I texted you, too, just as soon as Mr. Jamison called to change the
numbers for his reservation last night. Now I really am going. I'll be back as
soon as I drop Jimmy off at my mother's."

"Shit," Chase muttered, then he pushed away from his desk, the

wheels of his office chair rolling easily over the hard laminate floor. He
grabbed at the doorjamb to stop himself and leaned out into the hallway.
"Hey! How many covers is it now?" Because if he'd missed one update, who
could say he hadn't missed more, somehow?

"Six," Brenda called from the end of the hallway, pausing at the

corner to look back. "Oh, and it's someone's birthday. I'm not sure who,
except it's not Jamison! See you in a bit!" Well, shit. It just kept getting
better and better. The four-top of VIPs was now a six-top, and Chase needed
a birthday cake.

He looked quickly at the clock on the wall, then pushed out of his

chair, sending it clattering into the hall on the rollers. He somehow managed
to simultaneously move around the chair and shove it back into the office
before heading for the back kitchen at a run. With any luck at all, his pastry
chef Randy would still be there, finishing up. If luck were feeling
particularly generous, Randy wouldn't mind putting in some extra time to
create the perfect cake for whichever of Peter Jamison's companions was
celebrating.

Luck was apparently feeling moderately kind because Randy hadn't

left yet. That didn't mean the man was anxious to spend more time at work,
though. Fortunately, Chase didn't have any problem with begging. Or
bribery.

"I'll pay you extra, out of my own pocket," Chase said, feeling

desperate and probably sounding it, too. He knew how to bake, of course. It
had been part of the curriculum at the Travel Institute of the Pacific, and
T.I.P. didn't let just anyone graduate at the top of their class. "Come on,

Randy," he wheedled, "I'd do it myself, but D-four's just been added to the
party and I can't be here baking and decorating and be reworking their
special menu to eliminate all fungus." Randy made a face. "Mushrooms,
man. D-four's allergic. So what do you say?"

Randy -- all six-feet-three-inches and two hundred twenty or so

pounds of him -- frowned and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "I'm
supposed to take my mum to her bingo at church later."

The small accent that remained from Randy's childhood in Dublin was

just exotic enough to make the man seem even more attractive than his build
and strong but sharp features did. Sadly, Randy was straight and completely
not curious, which was a major disappointment to just about every gay man
on the restaurant's staff.

It was equally disappointing to most of the straight women, because

Randy was nursing an enormous crush for someone already, or so Chase
believed. The guy must be, though Chase wasn't entirely sure that a
thirty-two-year-old man's interest in someone could be called a crush, as
such. Crush seemed a little too grade school as a term. Still, Randy's heart
seemed to be engaged already, and the man didn't appear interested in
sleeping around, though Chase knew for a fact that he'd gotten offers.

"I'll pay for a taxi," Chase immediately offered. "Hell, I'll send one of

the hotel's cars to take her there and home, if you want. Just please, Randy,
please help me out here, okay?"

"You could just say 'it's your job, Randy, so smile and do it.' Some

would," Randy said then, his eyes narrowing.

Technically, that was true. Randy really did work for him -- on paper,

at least. But Chase wasn't that kind of boss. He liked to think he and his
senior staff were partners in making Pink Salt the success it had become
under Chase's direction. Plus, Randy could kick his ass in about a second,
and while Chase had never noticed any violent tendencies in the big man,
he'd definitely seen Randy come to work a time or two with bruised
knuckles. Add in the fact that Chase considered the pastry chef a
work-friend, and ordering Randy to do something above and beyond the call
of duty didn't seem right.

Chase snorted, not quite willing to say all that out loud. Instead, he

dragged out his trademark sarcastic tone. "Yeah, and I could also tell

Gustavo to water down the liquor at the bar. Except then he'd quit, and I'd be
screwed out of a bar manager because I got too big for my britches, as my
mother would say." He let his stare turn pleading and almost cackled when
he saw Randy start to cave. "So you'll do it?"

Randy sighed deeply, those tense shoulders slumping just a bit.

"Probably," he answered. "You'll send a car for my mum? With a driver, like
you said?"

Oh, thank God. "I'll even make sure the driver has champa... no,

you've told me about a hundred times that your mother only drinks wine on
the Saints' days. Sparkling cider, okay? Enough for her and all her friends."
It would cost him, Chase knew, but managing the new six course menu and
having one of Randy's amazing creations for Peter Jamison's party would net
him much more in good will alone.

Randy nodded slowly, but the man still looked a little reluctant. After

another moment or so, Randy blushed, hotly enough that Chase could see it
under the man's lightly tanned skin. "Think you could maybe put in a good
word for me with Brenda?" he asked, sounding both hopeful and shy, and
Chase nearly swallowed his own tongue.

"I thought someone who'd been married before was forbidden or

something." He wasn't sure why he thought that, but Chase had never even
considered that Randy might be hot for the restaurant's hostess. "Isn't that
some sort of Irish Catholic rule or something?" Chase honestly didn't know.
His own family, as non-traditional as it was, wasn't even slightly religious.
Sometimes he wondered whether he'd missed out in that sense, but he'd
never really been bothered enough to find out.

Randy glared. There was no other word for the way the man's eyes

narrowed further, Randy's face tightening into an expression Chase had
never seen on the pastry chef before.

"Brenda's not divorced," Randy said, and while he sounded

reasonable, he also seemed angry. "It's not her fault her husband died in Iraq
and left her to raise their boy alone. She's still young and pretty and smart,
and she's a good mum to her son. There's nothing in my faith that says a
widowed woman who behaves in a virtuous fashion is forbidden to marry
again, or that she's off limits to someone with honorable intentions."

Chase wasn't about to ask how or why Randy was so convinced that

Brenda was virtuous. Hell, as far as he was concerned, Brenda could be
spreading it around every bar in town and still be one of the sweetest
acid-tongued bitches around. The girl was a great mother and a very valued
coworker and friend. If Randy liked her, then good. Fuck if Chase knew
what kind of guys were out there for single women, especially single
mothers, but he knew exactly the kind of guys who were out there for gay
men. Randy would be a catch for anyone.

"Okay!" Chase held up his hands and smiled, trying to make it clear

that he wasn't arguing. "I never said Brenda was..." What? A slut? No, he
definitely hadn't said that. "I mean, as far as I can tell, she just takes care of
Jimmy and works. I was only asking, Randy. Seriously. I'm not religious;
you know that. It was a question. Nothing more."

Randy was at least listening because the shoulders that had risen to

somewhere around the man's ears slowly lowered. "Brenda is a lady. Even
my mum has no objection, though they haven't yet met. I'd like to have the
chance to see whether she and I would be a good match." He blushed again.
"Brenda and I, I mean. Not me and Mum. But I think they'll get on."

Chase grimaced, his raised hands flapping just a bit. "Enough! Please,

enough! The last thing I need is to have images of your bizarre heterosexual
mating rituals stuck in my head!" He smiled when Randy laughed. "What if
I promise to mention what a good guy you are?" Chase said when Randy's
crossed arms relaxed and fell to the man's sides. "I can't promise that she's
interested or anything, but maybe I can find out. Will that get me a fucking
cake?" Jesus fucking Christ. God save him from straight boys in love.
Especially straight boys in love who could kick his ass without even trying.

"That will get you the best cake I've ever made," Randy stated bluntly.

"I'll call Mum and tell her to expect the car and driver soon. She'll love it.
Tuesday is her birthday, and I'll tell her it's my present to her. All her friends
at church will be green with envy."

Well, yay for fucking Randy, Chase thought as he retraced his steps to

his office. The guy got a birthday gift for his mom and got to be pimped to
Brenda, while all Chase got was a fucking cake.

A cake and four and a half hours he wouldn't have had otherwise,

Chase reminded himself, even as he rolled his desk chair back into place
before the computer. Peter Jamison's party wasn't due until seven o'clock,

after all. That should be more than enough time for an emergency delivery
from his produce purveyor. Hell, his rep with the produce company would
probably bring whatever Chase needed himself. It wouldn't be the first time,
after all.

***

Sebastian Cole was tired. No, he was more than tired, he was

exhausted.

It wasn't entirely unexpected, because he'd been running on fumes for

the last however long.

"Seven years," Sebastian answered his own mental query, though he

answered it out loud. Out loud or not didn't matter, which no longer seemed
sad or wrong. He was used to being alone, and he'd never handled silence
well.

He had reason to be exhausted. After his four years at Princeton,

which he'd spent hitting the books harder than even he would have believed
before getting there, he'd managed to graduate with his business degree.
Then he'd chosen to indulge himself, as his parents insisted on calling it, by
trying to open up a new region for the family business, as well as a new
division. They hadn't been thrilled with the idea of a research and
development branch, but when he'd said he could manage to do both, they'd
changed their tune a little, and he'd been running around like a crazy person
ever since, trying to make things work.

Between all that and his family, Sebastian figured he hadn't truly slept

for more than an average of four hours a night in the seven years he'd
reminded himself about, and a part of him wanted nothing more than to
collapse onto the king-sized bed in his room and give in to the urge to close
his eyes and just rest. This business trip was the first he'd been on where he
didn't need to be on-call, so to speak, twenty-four hours a day. He actually
had some free time, though it wouldn't really start until the next morning.

"Not until noon, at the earliest," Sebastian muttered, taking his suits

from the old-fashioned valet-pack. People could say what they wanted to
about it, but it kept his fine Italian designer-wear free of the crushed
wrinkles that putting suits in suitcases always caused. And it counted as

carry-on luggage, but was flat enough that flight attendants usually offered
to house it in their little closet. Not that Sebastian had flown from Boston to
Hartford because that would have been stupid -- it was only a two hour drive
-- but he'd gotten used to having his suits nearly pristine.

Sebastian smiled at the close-to-perfect condition of the

summer-weight wool, then opened his suitcase, pulling his dress shirts and
ties out. They were less unwrinkled, but Sebastian was sure they would be
suitable once they hung in the bathroom, the steam of his shower relaxing
the small creases. It would work well, since showering was next on his list.
Once he'd gathered his toiletries, Sebastian planned to shower for at least an
hour. That was the nice thing about hotels -- the hot water never ran out.

He spared a momentary glance for his briefcase, wondering whether

he should brush up on the facts of his presentation, but decided against it.
He'd written the reports and created the bullet-point diagrams. It was all
right there in his head. If he studied it any more, he would probably come off
sounding rehearsed, and that could offend his targets.

Target, Sebastian reminded himself, because while the one man might

actually be useful to his fledgling R&D division, the other was... well,
Sebastian figured Wallace Durmont -- the Fourth -- wasn't actually the guy
he needed to talk to about his plan. Still, if the son could get him access to
the father? It would be worth the effort, assuming the man he actually
wanted to talk to, Peter Jamison, was even willing to consider Sebastian's
proposal. If Mr. Jamison wasn't interested, well, that would be the end of
that.

The shower felt good. Hot, strong water that stung just a bit when it

hit Sebastian's skin, right at first. Maybe a little bit too hot, but Sebastian set
it that way on purpose, though he didn't know why. He sort of thought that it
should hurt, in some bizarre way, like the pain of the heat was more
cleansing than a more moderate temperature would be, though that didn't
make sense. Soap worked the same whether the water was scalding or just
warm. Either way, though, Sebastian always felt clean when he turned off
the flow.

At that particular moment, Sebastian felt like he needed a nap more

than anything else, but he couldn't let himself sleep. Fortunately, turning the
water on again, cold this time, woke him enough to push that urge away.

"Later," he promised his own reflection as he brushed and flossed his

teeth. "Later," he said again, pushing his hair back with a broad-toothed
comb.

He paused for a moment, once he'd shaved the tiny bit of stubble from

his face, to evaluate himself. The towel he wore around his waist only let
him see more.

Five-foot-eleven or so. Blond hair that had gone darker from lack of

sun after Sebastian had left California for Massachusetts. His eyes were still
blue, Sebastian noticed, which sort of surprised him. He rarely looked at his
own eyes in the mirror, but somehow he'd thought they would reflect the
exhaustion he felt and be black or something, no matter how unlikely that
seemed.

His body was toned, though Sebastian chalked that up to his age and

metabolism rather than any effort on his part. His poor eating habits might
have something to do with it, too, he figured. Sebastian was pretty sure he
hadn't had an actual sit-down meal in four years, if not longer. He couldn't
remember more than a handful of times that he'd gotten anything but a
sandwich during his entire college experience. That was something he
needed to start being more careful about, considering where fast food had
gotten his father, back in the day.

Sebastian was going to have a sit-down meal soon, though. He was

fully aware of that much. And while it made him nervous on a certain level,
it also made him happy. After as many times as he'd tried, sending letters
and projections to just about everyone in the field, he finally had a real
appointment. And sure, it wasn't with any of his first choices, but it still
counted. Even if it didn't work out, he'd get a good dinner at the hotel's
restaurant, and Sebastian planned on having wine. Not a lot, but still.

The alarm on his phone buzzed, dragging Sebastian from his thoughts,

and he thanked God that he'd thought to set it earlier. Who knew how long
he might have spent, staring into the mirror and contemplating himself in the
way some people contemplated their navels otherwise?

His shirts were flawless, Sebastian saw when he pulled the cobalt blue

one from the hook on the back of the bathroom door. It always held wrinkles
more than the pearly gray, so it was a given that the other was perfect. The
matching blue-and-black tie looked good, as well, once Sebastian smoothed

a hand over it and set it on the windowsill of his room for a few minutes.

He still didn't feel like getting all puffed-up, but there wasn't much

choice. He needed to make a deal, or he needed to admit failure. Sebastian
knew which option he'd prefer, and that was all it took to have him shucking
his towel and stepping into boxer-briefs, then summer-weight wool slacks,
trouser socks, and professionally polished shoes.

He forewent pulling on an undershirt, sure that the rayon and silk

blend of his blue button-down and the suit jacket he would be wearing over
it would do the job. It wasn't like he'd be sprouting tight nipples, anyway.
That hadn't happened to him in years, and even if it did? Yeah... shirt and
jacket.

Sebastian spent another moment in the mirror, checking out his own

ass in the trousers he was wearing. He wasn't above using sex appeal to
make a deal, after all, and even straight men had been known to ogle his ass.

"It's show time," he told his reflection, then laughed at the

serious-but-scared expression he wore. That would never do. So he forced
his lips into a smile, losing most of the rictus-effect, and froze his face that
way, as much as he could.

He might be nervous, but fuck if Sebastian was going to look like it.

And so what if this was his only chance? He was Sebastian Cole! He would
land on his feet, damn it, and if he didn't... well, there was no if. He needed
to make this work. And he would.

He had to.

***

"Peter Jamison's party is here."

The words weren't exactly a surprise because Chase had already

known the party would be arriving. In fact, he was fully prepared. It had
been a bit of a scramble, but he'd pulled it off. That was the only reason he
was able to smile at Karim rather than frown.

"Cool. I gave you the wine list, right?" he asked, though he

remembered doing just that very clearly. Chase's ability to match different

wines with each course was one of the reasons Peter Jamison kept coming
back to Pink Salt. "Good," he said in response to Karim's nod. "Come back
in seven minutes for the first course. It's going in the oven right now."

He didn't wait for Karim to agree, choosing instead to turn away and

pop the half-sheet pan of puff pastry tarts into the oven to warm. Karim was
the best waiter they had; Chase trusted the man to do his job.

It was slightly nerve-wracking to be serving the special menu, but it

was also a relief to have things started. Chase didn't have any doubts about
his abilities or those of his staff, but D-four always seemed to find
something to complain about, which was yet another reason Chase hoped
Wallace Durmont the Third would enjoy a long and happy life at the helm of
the hotel. The Durmonts didn't technically own the restaurant, but they
owned the property, so keeping them happy could only be a good thing. If
the Durmont-in-charge was displeased with Pink Salt, the restaurant could
be forced to move when the lease ran out. More likely, Chase would be
asked to leave by the owners of the restaurant, really. It was far easier to fire
the chef than it was to relocate an entire business, and Chase knew it.

Even so, he was fairly sure D-four wouldn't have much to complain

about this time. There was nothing even resembling a mushroom in any of
the six courses, and Chase had deliberately seasoned with
Durmont-the-Fourth's tastes in mind. The savory tarts would be followed by
the cumin-tinged gazpacho D-four liked so much; then there was a chilled,
hot-smoked halibut course, followed by a steak salad that used filet mignon,
sliced thin, with a raspberry vinaigrette over arugula. Next would be a seared
tuna with fresh guava and papaya salsa, and finally Randy's cake would
make an appearance. Chase was sure the menu and its accompanying wines
would please not only Peter Jamison but everyone else lucky enough to be
dining with Jamison's party. Even the finicky D-four.

Being sure of the menu's brilliance didn't have Chase feeling any less

nervous, though the nearly spotlessly-clean plates Tom, Karim's busboy for
the night, kept bringing through to the dishwashers did, as did Karim's easy
smile every time the waiter returned to the kitchen for the next course. That
part definitely set Chase's mind at ease.

"The Jamison party needs to take a breather," Karim announced,

breezing into the kitchen after the tuna course had been out of the window
for half an hour or so. "God, Chase, they were like a swarm of locusts right

at first, but they've finally slowed down." The waiter's smile grew even
larger, his teeth almost blindingly white in his handsome mocha face. "I
think partly because Mr. Jamison's nephew keeps making them all laugh.
Well, except for D-four. He looks like he swallowed a bug every time Mr.
Abrams opens his mouth."

God, Chase would actually pay money to see that. He would. Most

people were well aware of exactly who Wallace-the-Fourth was and took
great care not to offend him. The idea that someone was making the spoiled
jackass uncomfortable and apparently didn't give a damn -- because what
else could it mean, really, if the guy in question was Jamison's nephew when
Peter Jamison knew quite well who D-four was -- struck Chase as being too
funny for words. Except he found words, so maybe not.

"Good," Chase answered with a grin. "Make sure this Mr. Abrams

knows he's welcome here any time. How's the rest of the party? Happy?"

Karim's nose wrinkled just a bit but the smile barely dimmed at all.

"There's one guy who sort of made a face at the red guava and papaya salsa,
but not like he hated it. He did want to know which farm the fruit came
from, but he told me not to bother when I said I could ask. I think he's one of
those fruit-snobs or something. You know, the 'all-organic or it sucks' type."

Oh, yeah. Chase definitely knew that type. Still, he knew when to

choose his battles. "At least he's not vegan. That would have sucked to find
out after we started serving."

Karim laughed. "Yeah, no shit. I hate that. So another twenty-five

minutes or so for the cake, okay?"

Chase nodded and stepped out from behind the hot line, leaving the

rest of the regular dinner service to his line staff. "That's fine. Just hang out
for a minute. I want to send some of our lemon verbena sorbet out to them as
a palate cleanser. Drizzle it with some of that dry sparkling wine we got in
last week, okay? You know the one. They'll balance each other out well and
keep Mr. Jamison's party from feeling too full for cake. God knows Randy
will be pissed if they're too full for cake."

Karim laughed again, though Chase was sure it was because of the

way he was rolling his eyes at the waiter. But mentioning Randy reminded
him. "Oh, and if you could ask Brenda to see me when she has a chance,
that'd be cool. Nothing important, but it'd be good if we talked at some point

tonight."

"Not a problem," Karim said, smirking just a little, and Chase fought

the urge to groan. Apparently Brenda had more admirers than he'd known,
because he definitely recognized that look in Karim's eyes. "I'll let her
know."

A minute or so later, Karim took the small glasses containing

two-ounce scoops of sorbet out of the kitchen and Chase shook off his
concerns. Brenda was a smart young woman. If she'd been interested in
Karim, she'd had more than enough time to get involved with the man. There
was very little chance that the unwritten but commonly acknowledged rule
about not dating in the workplace would have stood in her way.

That rule didn't precisely apply to Brenda and Randy, though. They

worked entirely different areas and there wouldn't be all that much fall-out if
they tried and it didn't work. Not like there would be if Brenda dated a
waiter, whose section she had control over as hostess, so yeah. Chase felt
pretty good about at least finding out what Brenda thought of Randy. He
hadn't made any firm promises to Randy, but the more he thought about it,
the more Chase could see his favorite hostess and the best pastry chef he'd
ever known making a go of it. It all depended on Brenda, of course. She
might not even find Randy appealing, but there was only one way to find
out. After the Jamison party was finished, Chase reminded himself.

Because Brenda and Randy were a personal project, now that he knew

Randy was interested. The Jamison party, on the other hand, was business.

***

Peter Jamison wasn't at all what Sebastian had been expecting. The

man wasn't old and crusty, wasn't staid and sedate, and he for damned sure
wasn't straight, though in retrospect? Sebastian wasn't sure why he'd ever
thought the man who'd created the original Hair Master and its somewhat
frequent new-and-improved versions would be anything but gay. Which
wasn't to say that call-me-Peter Jamison was flaming or anything, because
he wasn't. In fact, Sebastian never would have known Peter shared his own
bent if Peter hadn't shown up for dinner with a man whom he'd introduced as
his partner.

Dex, the partner in question, had looked less than thrilled with that

designation. Enough so that Sebastian thought the man might have disagreed
if they'd been anywhere but the very swanky restaurant connected to the
lobby of the Hotel Durmont.

Then Peter Jamison had introduced the younger couple with him as

his nephew Riley and Riley's partner Kelly, and any questions Sebastian
might have had about homophobic tendencies had been more than answered.
With regards to Peter and his people, anyway. Wallace Durmont the Fourth
was another question entirely, and one Sebastian hadn't been able to answer
even after five out of six courses. Then their waiter arrived again, this time
bearing small cups of sorbet and an open bottle of sparkling wine and
Sebastian groaned quietly as six courses became seven.

"Seriously?" That was Peter Jamison's nephew, Riley. "I was all set to

muscle through some fu--" Riley's partner Kelly elbowed him and Riley
smirked. "I was ready to eat some damned cake, but if I eat fu... freaking ice
cream too, I might explode, man. And not in the good, fun way. Trust me
when I say nobody here wants to see that shit!"

Riley's partner rolled his eyes, his angular face looking more amused

than anything else. "Nobody here wants to hear you cussing up a storm,
either, so just shut up and eat the sorbet. Because it's sorbet, not ice cream,
which you already know, man."

Sebastian dipped his head down, not wanting to offend anyone with

the smile that spread over his lips. Peter Jamison and his man Dex didn't
seem to have that concern.

"Honestly, Riley," Peter said bluntly, though he was clearly teasing, "I

really can't take you anywhere, can I?"

Dex chimed in, tossing a long lock of auburn hair back over his

shoulder. "And this surprises you. It's amazing that Kelly manages to rein
him in during family gatherings. Expecting Riley to act like a human in
public is entirely unlikely when he obviously can't even manage it privately.
Though I suppose hope really does spring eternal." The words obviously
weren't meant in a joking manner. Even Sebastian could tell that much. For
whatever reason, Dex didn't like Riley, and didn't like was an
understatement.

Jesus Christ, what a dick. That was all Sebastian could think about

Peter Jamison's partner. The man could at least pretend to like Peter's
nephew, considering how obvious it was that Peter and Riley truly cared for
each other. Sure, Riley was a little boldly spoken, but so what? Peter
Jamison and Riley were family; they shared a bond, even as uncle and
nephew, that Sebastian could only imagine sharing with his own parents. He
loved his parents, but they still didn't get him. Sebastian doubted they ever
would.

Sebastian bit his own tongue to keep from saying as much. It wasn't

his place, having just met Peter, Riley, Kelly and Dex. And he was hoping to
make a business deal with Peter Jamison, as well, so offending the man and
the man's partner by announcing his opinion that Dex was a bitter old queen
probably wouldn't work in his favor. When Dex turned a demanding gaze on
him, Sebastian pretended not to see it and locked his eyes on the sorbet in
front of him, watching the sparkling wine fizz up on hitting the frozen knob
of confection.

"I hate lemon," Wallace Durmont the Fourth grumbled, though the

man dug into the sorbet concoction readily enough. "It's always too sour.
The chef should know that by now, but he doesn't pay any attention to what I
want. That'll change when I'm in charge."

Sebastian held back a snort, just because Wallace had been bitching

almost silently about every course. Nobody else had been able to hear, of
course, because the clearly spoiled and whiney jerk's words had been
mutters rather than statements. Sebastian hadn't dignified any of them with
an answer, either, because the food had been superb, aside from the fruit
salsa on the tuna.

That salsa, full of fresh guava and papaya, with just a little red onion,

cilantro, lime juice and mint, had been okay. Not great, because Sebastian
knew it would have been better if the chef had used Cole Valley Farms fruit
-- hell, it would have been amazing with the best produce available in the
continental United States, though Sebastian might be biased -- but it had
been good. Really good. Good enough that when he finished trying to build
the R&D division by talking to Peter Jamison, he planned to set up a
meeting with the chef, to talk about Cole Valley Farms and how real quality
was worth the price.

That was part of the reason he was in Connecticut, after all, but he

could wait a few days for that. It would be better to let the chef get through

the weekend without the added pressure and annoyance of meeting with a
prospective purveyor. Monday would be soon enough to haul out brochures
and such. At the moment, Sebastian was suddenly offended by the way
Wallace Durmont the Fourth was still insulting the food. He wasn't about to
be loud with it, of course, because he had a business to build. Pissing off, or
even simply embarrassing, someone connected with the Hotel Durmont
would likely end up biting Sebastian on the rear.

Sebastian smiled at the other men around the table, then leaned closer

to Wallace and murmured, "Honestly, this has been one of the best meals
I've ever had the privilege to eat, so if you're as serious about not liking it as
you seem, I'm wondering if you'd be willing to do me a favor?" He waited
for Wallace-the-Fourth's careful nod, then Sebastian relaxed his shoulders,
as though relieved. "I have a good friend who owns a restaurant near my
place in Boston. If you decide to find a different chef for Pink Salt, would
you please let me know? I'd love it if my friend could hire your current chef
for his place. It would probably get the restaurant another spoon in the
Rafael Guide."

His own sorbet-and-sparkling-wine was mostly melted by then. It

hadn't been the biggest scoop of sorbet ever. Even so, Sebastian picked up
the glass it had arrived in and tossed back the cold contents, holding the
liquid part and the small knob of frozen lemon-ice in his mouth for a few
moments before swallowing. His eyes widened as the clean, sharp flavor
burst through him, teasing his taste buds but leaving behind only a sense of
freshness, rather than anything distinct.

"It's like it cancelled out everything I had before," he said, only

realizing he was speaking aloud when Riley reached past
Wallace-the-Fourth to slap him on the shoulder.

"Dude!" Riley sounded far too amused. "No shit! I swear, if I wasn't

totally into Kelly, I'd want to marry whoever the fuck decided to send this
out to us. Male or female." He grimaced and let loose a grunt, and the look
on Kelly's face told Sebastian that the Asian man had done something under
the table just as much as Riley's next words did. "If I'd never met Kell and
realized he was the only one for me ever, I mean." Riley smirked. "And for
the record, I'm totally his bitch, not the other way around, because--"

Kelly obviously did whatever it was again because Riley stopped

talking and Kelly sighed. "Ignore him. It's his birthday, so he thinks that

gives him a free pass. Which it doesn't, just 'for the record.'"

Well, Sebastian could understand that, and maybe the fact that Dex

looked so smug made him feel a little more sympathetic to Riley. "It's fine,"
he said as the waiter returned, though Sebastian hadn't noticed him leave
before. "Maybe a little more information than I needed, but I think it's cool
that your partner doesn't have any problem with admitting it out loud." He
grinned as Kelly laughed.

He had a short moment during which he could only hope Peter

Jamison wouldn't be upset by his words, but then the older man chuckled
too, and Sebastian knew he'd passed some sort of test. Judging by the look
on Wallace-the-Fourth's face, though, Sebastian had failed with that one.

Oh, well. So be it. He'd really wanted to forge a connection with

Peter, anyway. Somehow, it seemed that he'd done that.

***

Five minutes before the cake was due to be delivered to the Jamison

party, Chase left the kitchen and headed quickly to his office, where he
exchanged his sweaty white jacket for the more formal black one that hung
on the back of the door. It was pressed and lightly starched and bore his
name -- simply Chef Chase, instead of his full name -- as well as the
restaurant's logo over the pocket.

His changed his pants as well, switching the black and white

herringbone-patterned baggy pair for cargo-style cooking pants that matched
the jacket -- black with small accents of pale pink that echoed the jacket's
embroidery -- then tied the ironed and spotless black apron around his waist.
It was a nice outfit, for glorified work clothes, and Chase knew damned well
that it looked good on him. He might not be stunning on the best of days, but
the black-on-black gave him a visual authority that coincided well with the
degree of authority he actually wielded in his kitchen.

He always felt less scruffy when wrapped up in his display-only chef

clothes, too, but he couldn't wear them every day. Only the sort of Executive
Chefs who stayed out of the kitchen and wandered around with clipboards
could afford to do that, and that wasn't Chase. He enjoyed his work because
it allowed him to be so hands-on rather than a glorified data entry clerk with

a culinary degree. Hell, if it ever came down to it, he would take a line cook
position again before turning into a paper-pusher.

"You ready to do this thing, boss-man?" Karim asked as Chase

entered the kitchen again. The waiter already had the pristine, lattice-frosted
white cake centered on a platter that rested atop an otherwise empty dessert
cart with a dark red covering. "I can't swear they're really ready for cake, but
D-four looks like he's about to start spitting tacks or some shit. Might be a
good idea to distract him."

Chase offered up a wry smile. "When is D-four not ready to pitch a

fit, just for the hell of it?"

Karim laughed. "Yeah, but it's usually at one of us. Not someone he's

having dinner with. Between the way he keeps glaring at Jamison's nephew
and the blond guy with the party, I'd say Hurricane Wally's about to touch
ground, and I'm really not in the mood to scrub blood out of the carpet."

"That's what busboys are for," Chase returned easily as he took the

long-barreled lighter from Karim and pulled the trigger, applying the small
flame to the wick of the single candle on the cake. "You just have to tip
them out really well at the end of the night when there's actual blood and
mayhem to clean up after." He traded the lighter for a cake knife that he laid
on the cart, then cocked his head at Karim.

"Whatever," Karim answered with a laugh, grinning as he grabbed the

six fresh dessert plates and accompanying forks from the counter nearby.
"Blood usually upsets the other guests, so how about we try to avoid it this
time?"

Chase pouted playfully and started to push the cart out of the kitchen.

"Spoilsport," he muttered, and Karim just laughed, though the younger man
quieted the sound as they went deeper into the dining room, heading for the
usual VIP area. The first small trail of melted wax worked its way down the
side of the candle, collecting in the small, custom-made stainless steel cup
that spiked the cake and kept the run-off from touching the edible art.

Peter Jamison saw them first and grinned. Then the thin man with the

long red hair noticed them and frowned, which Chase just didn't get. What
was there to frown about when there was cake? Cake made everything
better, didn't it?

There was a rather large man who looked around thirtyish sitting next

to Mr. Jamison, and next to that man was a slender-looking Asian whose
dark eyes widened when he looked their way. Then the Asian guy smiled
and Chase wasn't even a little bit surprised when he took the hand of the big
man beside him. That pair had to be the nephew and the nephew's partner, he
figured, by process of elimination. The redhead was too old to be Jamison's
nephew, so was probably Jamison's boyfriend; Chase already knew D-four,
even from behind -- even the back of Wallace-the-Fourth's head screamed
entitlement, somehow -- and if the blond seated beside D-four was either the
nephew or the nephew's partner, Chase doubted the guy would be just sitting
there while some other man held his boyfriend's hand.

"Chef," Peter Jamison said once Chase and Karim reached the table

and Karim made the rounds to drop off the clean plates and forks, "I have to
say you've outdone yourself. As usual."

Chase smiled and shrugged just a little bit, uncomfortable even with

well-deserved praise. "I do enjoy a challenge," he answered. "And believe
me, your parties are always a challenge. In the best possible way, of course."
He meant it, too. He truly enjoyed creating new and different menus for the
private dinners Peter Jamison scheduled every month or two. It kept Chase's
creative impulses from dying out with nothing more than specials to create
on a daily basis.

"Dude, is that my cake?" Chase had been right. The big, muscled man

was the nephew. "Seriously, I figured it'd be shaped like a cock or something
to celebrate my new-found gayness. Not even a dick-candle? I mean, if I'm
gonna blow, there should be a dick involved, right?" The nephew pouted. "I
think I'm depressed now. And where's the roaming band of singing waiters?
Shit, last year Jer took me to this Mexican place. I got to wear a sombrero
while everyone did some weird kind of war cry or whatever. I was hoping
for at least some fucking sparklers this time."

The Asian guy's smile went tight, though for some reason Chase got

the feeling the man was trying not to laugh. Hell, Chase was trying not to
laugh, no matter that he should have been offended at Pink Salt being
mentioned in the same breath as some hokey place that was probably a chain
and bore as little resemblance to true Mexican food as filet mignon did to
ground chuck.

Karim, on the other hand, just kept smiling, apparently having gotten

used to Jamison's nephew during the three hours the party had been there so
far. "Our pastry chef is amazing," Karim replied easily. "The cake may not
be exactly what you'd hoped for, but I can promise you it'll taste better than
anything else you've ever had in your mouth." A split second later, even
Karim seemed to realize what he'd just said because he snapped his mouth
closed and shut his eyes for a moment, clearly offering a silent prayer that
the nephew didn't notice.

"Dude!" It seemed God was busy with other things at the moment,

because the nephew was already speaking. "No cake could ever be as good
as--"

Maybe God was just on a five second delay, like the networks did for

live shows, Chase decided then, because the Asian guy's hand let go of the
nephew's and rose to cover the big man's mouth. "What Riley means to say
is that the cake looks great and he's sure he'll love it. Um, it might be a good
idea to bring it over here so he can blow out the candle, though. And please,
nobody ask him what he wished for. I'm not sure I even want to know."

The redheaded man frowned even more deeply, which Chase hadn't

thought possible, but Peter Jamison laughed and gave Chase a nod. "Kelly's
probably right. The sooner Riley has cake in front of him, the sooner he'll be
reduced to mumbling, and that can't be anything but good."

"Dear God, give the man some cake already," D-four demanded.

"With any luck, they're right and it'll shut him up."

A small sound from the blond man whose back was still to Chase

seemed to register on D-four at the same moment Chase noticed it. That
wasn't surprising. What was surprising was that D-four cleared his throat and
spoke again. "Sorry. I meant... something else. Just let him blow out the
candle, will you?"

Chase was already moving around the table, though he was a fair bit

stunned by D-four's words. As an attempt at diplomacy, they failed utterly
and completely, but the fact that the man had even tried was a minor
miracle.

He reached the nephew -- Riley, it seemed -- and stopped the cart,

levering it between Peter Jamison's chair and Riley's as best he could. Then
he picked up the cake knife. "I can't offer you undulating screams,
sombreros, or sparklers," Chase announced, "or any of the other things you

mentioned. But I'm willing to promise to make special arrangements for you
if you end up back here next year." He winked as the boyfriend, Kelly,
removed the restraining hand from Riley's mouth. "For right now, though,
I'm pretty sure this'll be the best cake you've ever had. And happy birthday,
by the way. Many happy returns."

Riley smirked and Chase tried to steel himself for whatever the guy

would say next, but he also chose that moment to look around the table to
see how the rest of the Jamison party was taking his comment.

Peter Jamison looked amused. The guy with the auburn hair -- not red,

really, now that Chase was seeing him head-on -- seemed as disgusted as
he'd been since Chase had first seen him. Riley's boyfriend was obviously
hiding a smile, and D-four appeared... Chase didn't know what. He'd never
seen the man looking so strange. D-four didn't seem either puffed-up or
thoroughly irritated. Chase figured it might be one of the signs of the
apocalypse. Then his gaze shifted to the blond he'd only seen from behind
before and Chase's heart felt like it stopped, skipped a beat, then started
racing to make up for the time lost during that moment of stillness.

"Bastian?" He barely breathed the name, and even as he did so he

wondered whether he'd lost his mind. He must have done, because there was
no way he was standing there looking at the kid he'd met and known so
briefly in Hawaii. This man was older, for one thing, and paler. The blond
hair was less sunny, the skin lighter. But the eyes... oh, those eyes were the
same shade of blue, like an azure sky seen through sapphire, and the bones
of that face, while starker and more defined, remained the same. Those eyes
seemed to know him, as well, Chase realized, though they didn't light up the
way Chase remembered them doing in the past at the mere sight of him.

"It's Sebastian now," Bastian said quietly, but Chase heard him, just as

Bastian had obviously heard Chase's whisper. "So I'm guessing it was
cooking schools you were looking at, back in the day." Bastian smiled but
Chase could see that it was less than sincere. Even after eight years, he
remembered what Bastian looked like when he truly meant something. Hell,
Chase couldn't remember any time when Bastian's words had lied to him the
way they were doing right then when combined with the less-than-real
smile.

"It was," Chase agreed, pulling himself from his memories. "But we

can talk about old times later. Right now, Mr. Jamison's nephew needs to

blow out his candle." He smiled, sure that the expression was shaky at best,
and Bastian shrugged a little.

The nephew in question smirked, then cocked his head. "So we're

back to me now? Cool. Makes sense, since this is my fucking party." He
turned to look at his boyfriend, though Chase barely noticed. He couldn't
quite manage to drag his attention from Bastian yet. Talk about a blast from
the past. Chase still hadn't forgiven himself for what he'd done back then,
and he was pretty sure Bastian hadn't, either.

"Dude." Riley again, but hopefully not directed at him because Chase

was speechless. "I told you we should have just had a party at home, or
maybe at the club. If we were at the club, I could be grinding against you
right now."

Kelly sighed just enough that Chase noted it. "We're going there later,

Ry-ry. The twinkies-three would never forgive us if we didn't. Now blow out
your candle and make a wish, okay? We've subjected enough 'normal'
people to you for one night. It's a good thing our friends like you no matter
what comes out of your mouth. That's all I'm saying."

"It's a good thing you like putting your stuff in my mouth if what

comes out of it is such a problem for you," Riley answered teasingly, and
Kelly replied with something less overt but still suggestive. Chase didn't
care. He wasn't listening. He was too busy being happy that Riley finally
blew out the damned candle during the back-and-forth.

Chase somehow managed not to slice off his own fingers while he

was cutting the cake. Probably because it was something he was used to
doing. Any special event party, be it VIP or not, got Chase in his special
duds cutting their restaurant-ordered cake, tableside. It usually happened a
couple times a week, which was why he kept the black-and-pinks ready in
his office. If not for the practice, he likely would have ended the cutting
minus a finger or two, considering the fact that he couldn't manage to stop
looking at Bastian.

D-four seemed to notice, though no one else did. In fact, Chase didn't

realize that D-four was glaring at him until Bastian turned away from his
gaze to smile at Riley.

"Happy Birthday," Bastian said simply. Then the slightly wicked side

Chase remembered snuck out. "And congratulations on the whole 'gayness'

thing. You and Kelly are great together."

Riley chuckled and picked up the clean fork Karim had left on the

table like it was a trident, then stabbed the slab of cake on his plate.
"Seriously, man? We're fucking awesome! We might need to make a
sex-tape at some point. So how do you know the chef?"

Chase groaned silently, even while Bastian's lips quirked.

"We met a long time ago," Bastian said, not even looking at Chase, as

Chase couldn't help noticing. "I was staying with family in Hawaii, and
Chase was looking for a new school. It was, what? A week or so that we
hung out?" Bastian shrugged. "We sort of lost track after that. No big thing.
Right, Chase?"

No big thing? Really? God, how could Bastian say it was no big

thing? It had been a huge thing! Spending time with the boy Bastian had
been back then and trying to do the right thing... then failing when the reality
had been right there in front of his face, and doing what he'd wanted to,
rather than what he'd planned. And the aftermath, because Chase couldn't
forget that part. He couldn't forget what had happened after he'd foolishly
gone and taken Bastian -- taken Bastian's virginity.

Even with all that running through his mind, Bastian was obviously

waiting for a response, and when Chase looked, so were the other men at the
table. It was difficult, but he managed to make himself speak, even as he set
the cake knife down on the portion of the platter that was now vacant of
dessert.

"We did," Chase agreed. "We had a good time together, but we were

kids. Eventually, people need to go home, for whatever reason. I can't say
it's not good to see you again, though." It was true, Chase realized as the
words left him. It was more than just good to see Bastian again. It was great.
Just seeing the man Bastian had become and being fairly sure that his own
actions hadn't caused any irreparable psychological harm eased something
inside Chase that he hadn't even known was clenched.

"Maybe we can have a drink or something before you leave town," he

added, and yeah, that was another thing he hadn't known, but there it was.
Now that he'd run into Bastian again, damned if Chase didn't want to spend
some time with him. Damned if he didn't want to find out how things had
been for the last eight years.

Bastian shrugged, just enough for Chase to see. "I don't have any

plans later tonight," Bastian said simply. "Unless you're working really late,
maybe we can have a drink in the bar or something. After this party is done,
I mean, but it sounds like it won't be too much longer if Riley and Kelly
have plans to go out."

Chase felt his lips spreading into a wide grin. "That sounds great,"

Chase admitted. And yes, he knew he was ignoring Peter Jamison and
everyone else, but he couldn't help it. "Just let Karim know when you're
finished and I'll meet you for that drink, okay?"

Bastian nodded, though he didn't appear to be convinced for some

reason. "Right. I'll see you." Then the man turned his attention to the entirely
irritable D-four and Chase retreated to the kitchen, then the chef's office,
leaving Bastian and the Jamison party in Karim's capable hands.

***

Wow. What a surprise. Chase, here.

Of course, Sebastian remembered something about Chase being from

Connecticut, but he'd never even considered that he might run into the guy
again. Ever. Sebastian barely even remembered him. Except in his dreams,
of course, because Chase had been the most considerate lover Sebastian had
ever known, as short-lived and suddenly-ended as their time had been -- and
that was something of a sad statement on Sebastian's love life, now that he
was thinking about it -- but considerate didn't trump Sebastian's
ran-away-as-soon-as-they'd-fucked actions. Not even close.

Still, that didn't matter. It had all been so long ago. They'd been kids.

And Chase looked a bit older, sure, but still like Chase. Lean and strong,
with a smile that could light up the skies and took his features from average
to gorgeous. Which didn't matter, Sebastian reminded himself. He wasn't in
Hartford for Chase. Hell, he hadn't even known Chase was there at all, much
less the chef at the restaurant in the hotel where Sebastian was staying -- the
same restaurant Peter Jamison liked.

That Peter seemed to be interested in hearing about Sebastian's R&D

project after seeing Sebastian with Riley, Kelly, and the matched sourpusses
of Peter's man Dex and Wallace Durmont the Fourth was encouraging. That

Wallace Durmont the Fourth had apparently taken Sebastian's offer to steal
the chef, who'd turned out to be Chase, as a come-on was disturbing.

Disturbing or not, Wallace Durmont the Fourth had been paying far

too much attention to Sebastian for Sebastian's peace of mind, especially
after the mutters of 'faggots' and 'cock-whores' he'd heard from the man with
regards to the two couples at the dinner table at various points throughout
the evening.

He wasn't entirely sure of how any straight man would be that

comfortable saying 'cock-whore' without meaning it as a joke, especially
while dining with a table full of gay men, but Wallace-the-Fourth managed
to make the epithet sound both insulting and... whatever was more than
insulting, even while touching Sebastian's leg in a very suggestive manner
under the table during the dessert course. Suggestive enough that Sebastian
was sure the man's wandering touches would have ended up at his cock if
Sebastian hadn't shifted enough to cross his legs in the opposite direction of
Wallace Durmont the Fourth's wandering hands.

It was easier than Sebastian expected it would be to say goodnight to

Peter, Dex, Riley and Kelly. It was harder to get rid of Wallace Durmont the
Fourth, but he finally managed it, after making some promises that
Wallace-the-fourth could call him around lunch time the next day. Sebastian
was sure he would regret that later, but that was then.

For the moment, he didn't much care about that. He was about to

spend some time with Chase, and Sebastian was sure that doing so would
strip the romanticized memories from his mind and leave him with realistic
ideas about his own past and what Chase meant to him.

That series of thoughts left him cold, suddenly wondering whether he

remembered Chase more than he'd known; whether he was still pining for
the man. But no. He couldn't be. Sebastian had never fooled himself about
his feelings for Chase. He'd liked Chase as a lover of sorts, and he'd loved
Chase as someone who could have been a very close friend. He'd ended up
grateful that it had been Chase who'd taken his virginity, but that was all.
There had never been any possibility of more than what they'd had, unless
Sebastian was counting those few days they might have spent if there had
been no heart attack that required Sebastian leaving without any way to
contact Chase again.

Sebastian knew that. He even knew that it didn't matter. They were

men -- gay men. Fucking was part of the deal. Even at eighteen, he hadn't
expected his time with Chase to last. He'd known better. He still couldn't
imagine that Chase wanted to spend time with him after the way Sebastian
had just disappeared.

"Single malt," he told the bartender, once he'd managed to determine

that Chase would be meeting him in the small bar connected to the restaurant
rather than in the pub that was also connected to the hotel. The restaurant bar
held a few little booths, one corner booth and six stools. Sebastian smiled as
he took a seat, one ass cheek perched on a stool. "Neat. Don't destroy it with
ice or fruit, okay?"

The bartender smiled. "You're absolutely my hero tonight."

Damn, it felt good to be someone's hero, even if it only lasted for as

long as it took to pour a drink. "Make it a double," Sebastian requested and
the bartender looked at him like he was a god.

***

"You wanted to see me?" Brenda asked, poking her head into the

office.

"I did?" Chase frowned, trying to decide whether to change into his

street clothes to meet Bastian or stay in the black-and-pinks. He was leaning
toward the uniform, just because it was neater and would likely make a
better impression, but he didn't want Bastian to think Chase hadn't made an
effort. His street clothes were less than stellar, though, and that might make
Bastian think Chase didn't give a shit about seeing him. "Hey, Bren. If you
were going to have drinks with someone you hadn't seen in close to ten
years, would you wear my uniform or jeans and a t-shirt?"

Brenda laughed. "I'm pretty sure I'd wear my own clothes, not yours."

Chase shot her a disgusted glance and she grinned. "But if I were you and
the person I was having drinks with was a hot blond with gorgeous blue
eyes, I'd probably wear the jeans and t-shirt. They make you more... I don't
know. Approachable, maybe. More real. So was that why you wanted to see
me? To get my dating advice? Because it's been a while, so I might not have
the most up-to-date ideas."

Chase frowned, his black chef's jacket already halfway off. "What?

No! Well, not really, but you know I value your opinion." He nodded.
"Thanks."

"Okay, so why am I here?" Brenda's voice rose a little in pitch, not

volume. "I swear, if you're just wasting my time, I'm going to be upset,
Bellamy. I have work to do, you know."

Chase sighed, still thinking more about his date with Bastian -- though

he wasn't sure it counted as a date when it was just drinks and they'd only
run into each other accidentally -- than he was thinking about Brenda or
even Randy. He did know that he'd made a promise to his pastry chef,
though the words he used to fulfill that promise probably would have made
Randy cringe. "What do you think of Randy?" he asked. "Because he kind of
has a thing for you and I told him I'd see whether you like him at all. Jeans
and a t-shirt? Really?"

It wasn't until Brenda made a sound that was suspiciously close to

choking that Chase realized what he'd just said. "Oh, shit. Sorry, Bren. I
didn't mean to be all schoolyard or anything. But he's a good guy. Decent
and whatever. You know what they say, right? The way a guy treats his
mother is the way he'll treat his girl, and Randy treats his mom like a queen,
so... I'm just making things worse, huh?" Shit, Randy was gonna kill him.
Chase wouldn't blame him, either.

"Wait." Brenda's voice sounded tiny, but at least she was breathing

again. "Are we talking about Randy-Randy? Pastry-chef Randy? Randy likes
me? Like... likes me likes me? Oh. My. God. Chase, have you even seen
him? He's..." Her eyes went unfocused and a sly little smile curved her lips,
though Chase doubted she knew it. "I love his accent," she added and Chase
laughed.

"I guess I'll pass his note back to him with the 'I like you, too' box

checked," he answered with a smirk. "Now get back to work. I have to
change."

Brenda snorted softly. "Yeah, okay. And you're welcome, by the way.

If it weren't for me, you'd still be dithering over what to wear to the prom,
Mr. Maturity."

Chase pretended to frown and threw a blue-striped hot-line towel after

her retreating back, though the frown didn't last more than a second or two.

Then he laughed, silently admitting that she was right. They really were both
acting like kids, not just Brenda. Of course, that was one of the perks of
being in the restaurant business, for Chase, anyway. He wasn't bound by
anyone else's ideas of how he should behave. As long as he presented a
professional facade when he was out in the dining room, nobody cared
whether he acted like a twelve-year-old in the kitchen. Not that he did, but
he and Brenda were friends, and the kitchen staff and front-of-house workers
were even more immature on a daily basis. Chase enjoyed the
never-grow-up environment that was so prevalent when things weren't busy.

He also enjoyed being a grown-up when it was necessary, though, and

right then -- finally changed into his street-clothes and ready to head out to
the bar -- Chase thought he might need to act like an adult. If only to keep
Bastian from realizing just how used Chase felt after the way things had
ended between them.

He'd been fine earlier, with nothing on his mind other than how good

it had been to see Bastian again after so long. But after the last hour or so of
not thinking about the past, Chase couldn't lie to himself by saying he didn't
feel any resentment.

He'd thought he and Bastian had been good together, back in the day.

He'd even thought they were friends. But then they'd fucked, just that one
time, and Bastian had screamed at him and run out, and Chase had never
seen or heard from the guy again. He'd even tried calling Bastian's aunt and
uncle's place. He'd left at least ten messages in the final two days he'd had
before leaving Oahu, but he'd never heard anything from Bastian, and that
had told him more than he'd wanted to know.

It was eight years ago, for fuck's sake. Bastian was eighteen.

Whatever happened back then has nothing to do with now. And he's
probably seeing someone, anyway, but even if he's not, I'm not interested.
Except I think I really am, damn it. How can I be interested in him when I
don't even know who he is anymore, if I ever did?

Fuck if he knew, but Chase wasn't the sort to second-guess himself

and he was almost a hundred percent sure that there had been some sort of
connection between himself and the man Bastian had grown to be. At least
there was on Chase's side. There was no way of knowing whether Bastian
had felt it, too, unless Chase actually left his damned office and met Bastian.
If there wasn't -- if the connection was entirely in Chase's head -- then a

drink or two would help him push the memory of Bastian, naked and
pleading, from his mind.

Okay, that's not gonna happen. At all. That was all Chase could think

when he entered the bar and saw Bastian there, perched haphazardly on the
edge of a barstool while apparently chatting up the bar manager, Gustavo.

"Gus. Hey. How's it going?" Chase asked as he bellied up to the bar

beside Bastian. "I see you've met my friend."

Gus didn't laugh, but after working with the guy for as long as he had,

Chase could see the amusement in the slight rise of Gustavo's eyebrows.
"Your friend is one of the few people to come in here who understands how
a fine single-malt should be treated, Chase. I approve. And judging by your
clothes, you're finished for the night, so what can I get you?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to order something expensive and

impressive, something that would make Bastian look at him as someone who
knew how to drink fine liquor just as well as Bastian obviously did. In fact, a
completely unusual order almost made it past his lips before Chase caught
himself and denied the impulse with a harsh mental shout. Instead, he
offered Gustavo a smile and a self-deprecating shrug. "The one you hate,
Gus. Extra lime."

Gus groaned and rolled his eyes, but he turned away and started

mixing Chase's drink.

"I'm guessing 'the one you hate' is something he doesn't like making?"

Bastian sounded curious but possibly amused. "Because when I ordered my
Scotch, he said I was his hero. You got eye-rolling and a grunt."

Chase couldn't help but smile at the grin Bastian gave him. "Orange

vodka, Chambord, Malibu rum, and Rose's lime. He calls it a fruit cocktail."

Bastian's eyes went wide enough that Chase could see little sparkles

of blue, even in the muted bar lighting. "Okay. Um, don't take this the wrong
way, but that's possibly the gayest drink I've ever heard of, and that's saying
a lot. Queens all over the world must be fanning themselves at not having
thought of it first."

"Trust me," Gustavo said as he set an icy martini glass in front of

Chase and strained the chilled concoction from the shaker until it nearly met

the rim, "it gets worse. When he's just been through a break-up, he adds that
horrifying Godiva white chocolate schwag to it." Gus shuddered
dramatically and when Bastian followed suit, Chase couldn't do anything but
shrug. Gustavo was right, though it had been more than a year since Chase
had needed that added sweetness.

"Don't you have some work to do?" Chase suggested to Gus, only

partially teasing. "I haven't seen Bastian in years, so shoo! Go order some
wine or something." His grin was meant to take the sting out of the order and
obviously succeeded because Gus chuckled.

"I'd love to," the bar manager said. "I really, really would. If I could

do that right now, it'd get me home to Reynard that much sooner. Sadly, I
can't leave the bar unstaffed. There are still two tables drinking in the dining
room."

It was Chase's turn to roll his eyes. "Gus. Seriously, man. I think I'm

qualified to pull a bottle out and set it on the bar. I even know how to mix a
drink, if it comes to that. Go do the orders, then get the hell out of here. The
bar-back can restock without your supervision for once. Reynard just got
back into town last night, so go home and surprise him when the wine order
is done, okay?"

Gustavo frowned and Chase shook his head, cutting off whatever

objection Gus might have been preparing. "Come in half an hour early
tomorrow if you want, just to check that your bar-back did everything right,
but I'm gonna be pissed if you don't haul your ass home to see your fine, fine
man as soon as possible."

Gus laughed, soft and low. "If you really want me to go home, you

could always do the wine orders for me, Chef."

Chase groaned. "Please. I learned my lesson the last time. Now, go.

Order wine. Go home. See you tomorrow. Poof! Be gone!" He watched
Bastian in the smoked-glass antique mirror behind the bar while Gustavo
said his goodnights, then Chase turned to look directly at Bastian,
completely unsurprised to notice that Bastian looked even better as an
original rather than a reflection. "So," he said, just as Bastian spoke, too.

"That was nice of you." Bastian blushed enough that Chase could see

it, even in the dim lighting. "Sorry. I didn't think you were about to talk."

"No, it's fine," Chase murmured. "I wasn't being nice, though. Gus is

the bar manager and his boyfriend works a lot. Reynard is out of town
almost as much as he's around. But they love each other, so I'm cool with
giving them as much time together as I can. Especially since Gus told me
Reynard needs to go to Dallas in less than a week." He shrugged. "They've
been together for a long time. I figure that deserves some respect, you know?
It's an accomplishment."

Bastian arched a brow. "For a gay couple?" he asked, and maybe

Chase was imagining it but he thought he heard a barb in those words.

"For any couple." Chase frowned at Bastian then took a sip of his

drink, happy to note that it was just the way he liked it. "Gus and Reynard
have been together for eleven years. Most couples, gay or straight, only last
a fraction of that. So it's an accomplishment and I respect it. It makes me
happy to do whatever I can to make sure they get to have time together
whenever Reynard's in town. Maybe that makes me a sap, but there it is."

Bastian's blush grew deeper. "Sorry." He took another swallow of

Scotch and Chase set his own drink down then walked around the end of the
bar, stepping behind it through the raised slab of wood Gustavo had left up.

"It's okay," Chase said with a smile. "You want another?" He picked

up Bastian's nearly empty glass and took a sniff of the bit of golden-amber
liquid that remained. "Glenfiddich, right? In fact, I'm guessing..." he took
another whiff. "Thirty-three-year-old? It's got that sense to it."

"How did you do that?" Yeah, Bastian looked impressed. So much so

that Chase hated to ruin it, but fuck if he wanted to lie to the man. He hadn't
lied to Bastian in Hawaii; Chase wasn't going to start in Connecticut.

"It's easy," Chase said, grinning as he poured Bastian

two-fingers-worth of the dark, woody Scotch. "This is Gustavo's favorite. If
he called you his hero, this has to be what you were drinking. Kind of
disappointing to realize I'm not psychic, isn't it?"

***

Sebastian was far from disappointed. In fact, he was thankful that

Chase didn't know what he was thinking because most of it involved how

good Chase looked and how sorry Sebastian was for the way they'd parted.
The truth was, Chase was still gorgeous when he smiled, and Sebastian liked
that. He liked seeing how little Chase had changed in the ways that mattered.

That Chase had offered to cover the bar for Gus, the bartender, was

only another sign that Chase was a decent human being. Sebastian hadn't run
into many of those in the past eight years, and that only made him feel
worse.

He should have thought of Chase earlier, back in the day. Should have

tried to call before Chase left Hawaii. He hadn't, though, and Sebastian was
caught between wondering whether running into Chase again was a sign that
maybe they could be friends, or an opportunity to simply apologize and
move on. The only problem was, if it were the latter, Sebastian wasn't sure
he wanted to move on.

He'd had lovers since Hawaii. He hadn't been waiting for Chase or

anything. Hell, he'd never expected to see the guy again, so waiting would
have been delusional at best, but seeing Chase there, in Hartford... God,
Sebastian wished they'd somehow managed to keep in touch.

"Bastian?"

Sebastian blinked, Chase's voice pulling him from his thoughts.

"Sorry. I was thinking. It's a dangerous occupation, so thanks for stopping
me."

Chase smiled, which was exactly what Sebastian had been going for.

It still lit up Chase's face and the fact that it was turned on him, from only a
few feet of polished wood away, had Sebastian's nipples peaking, tightening
beneath his shirt. God, it had been ages since anyone could just look at him
and have his body reacting.

Except Chase. Chase could always get me hot and hard in seconds,

just by quirking a brow or licking his lips or smiling the way he's smiling
now. Like he can't help smiling because looking at me makes him happy.
That can't be true anymore, but I want it to be. God, do I want it to be.

It was the last thing Sebastian expected to discover about himself, but

there it was. For whatever reason, he wanted Chase to look at him the way
Chase had done in the beginning, and no matter how much time had passed,
his body insisted on believing Chase was still looking at him that way, like

Sebastian was something rare and precious, though Sebastian hadn't known
enough eight years earlier to define it that way.

"You seem to get lost in thought a lot." It should have sounded

irritated, but Chase was still smiling that same smile when Sebastian looked
at him again. "I keep hoping it's a good thing," Chase went on, "but I can't be
sure. Here's your drink."

Sebastian stared at the half-full rocks glass that held no rocks, but two

inches or so of prime single-malt Scotch Whiskey, and wrapped his hand
around it. "You've barely touched your own drink," he murmured, and Chase
laughed.

A nod followed the laugh, and Chase picked up the martini glass full

of clear purple-tinged liquid, taking a sip. "I'm trying to get you drunk,"
Chase said simply. "Not for any nefarious purposes, but I figure it should be
easy enough, since I seem to remember you having issues with anything
stronger than beer. I guess I'm still trying to figure out what went wrong.
Aside from the part where I screwed up with the condom thing. I remember
that, Bastian. It's the only time I ever had sex without rubbers." He frowned.
"And I guess I figured you'd be more likely to talk to me about Honolulu if
you were a little buzzed."

"I--" Sebastian started, but he didn't know what to say, so he didn't

bother to object when Chase kept talking.

"Actually, I didn't know that until just now," Chase said, like he was

musing. "That it still bothered me, I mean. But it does, Bastian. I really liked
you, and I thought you liked me, too. But then you got me to fuck you and
you freaked out, and then you were gone. Just fucking gone. Like you'd
never been there in the first place. I called your aunt and uncle's place for
days. I left messages right up until I came back home. But I never heard
from you. Not even a 'hey, I'm still alive and I don't want to talk to you, so
leave me alone' or whatever. It just sucked, man. That's all."

"Okay." Sebastian pushed the glass of Scotch to Chase's side of the

bar, though it was a shame to waste good Scotch that way. Still, he figured
he'd had enough because what Chase had just said didn't make any sense.
"Seriously, Chase? I don't have a single fucking idea of what you're talking
about. My dad had a heart attack and I had to go back home. He could've
died. By the time I thought about calling you, you'd already checked out of

your hotel, as far as I can remember. I didn't get any messages. Fuck, I wish
I had."

Sebastian swallowed hard, fighting the urge to grab the glass he'd

already pushed away. "I missed you, Chase. For months. Well, whenever I
had time to miss you. I was kind of busy with the business and all. Mom was
caught up in trying to get Dad well again, so I spent the rest of the time I was
supposed to be in Hawaii taking care of things for both of them."

"Right," Chase said, taking another swallow of the foul-looking purple

concoction, and Sebastian thought he detected a sneer in Chase's voice.
"You were so busy with your little fruit stand. Or was it an off-ramp? I was
never quite clear on that. Either way. Whatever. You missed me."

Chase snorted loudly and Sebastian wondered whether he'd been

remembering things wrong because Chase sounded drunk, all of a sudden.
Not slurring-and-stumbling drunk, but too-honest drunk. That would be a
good sign that Sebastian's memory was faulty, because he could swear he
recalled Chase having numerous drinks when they'd known each other
before and Chase had never acted the way he was acting right then.

Sebastian, on the other hand, had acquired a very respectable

tolerance for alcohol. He'd needed to, after his father had no longer been
medically capable of tolerating all the booze that was involved with most
distribution deals. More Scotch would be a bad idea, but it wouldn't put
Sebastian into a state that would have him doing or saying anything he
would regret later. Not that he needed to drink more to impress Chase, but
he could have if he'd had to.

"You know what?" Sebastian said, once Chase had been staring

silently and broodily into the almost empty martini glass for a few seconds.
"I'll be right back. And don't worry, I already know where the restroom is."

Chase didn't say anything, which Sebastian was convinced was good.

Sebastian simply left his phone on the bar, in case Chase stopped brooding
and wondered if Sebastian was coming back, then Sebastian left the bar
through the entrance that led to the hostess stand. He'd seen the lovely
dark-haired woman peering into the bar at least ten times since he and Chase
had met there.

"I'm Sebastian," he said, offering his hand and a smile. "I'm an old

friend of Chase's."

The woman took his hand and shook it firmly but femininely.

"Brenda. I'm the fag hag, I guess. I'm also the hostess, and no, that's not
something I say to everyone. The fag hag part, not the other. Everyone
already knows I'm the hostess. Probably because I live behind this podium
thing." She grinned.

Sebastian nodded sharply. "I'm sure you're very good. At both your

jobs. Um, do you know whether Gus has done the wine orders yet?" Please,
let this Brenda person say...

"I'm sure he did. He left about three minutes ago." Brenda smiled

again. "I think he was anxious to get home. Why?"

Sebastian sighed. "It's nothing. Never mind. Have those last two tables

left yet?" Because yes, he'd not only been listening but paying attention
earlier.

Brenda looked suspicious, and Sebastian couldn't blame her. He was

asking all sorts of questions that nobody who didn't work at Pink Salt should
ask. "I'm not trying to rob the place," he said in an effort to comfort her. "I'm
a friend of the chef's and..." And there wasn't any good way of saying Chase
was probably drunk, was there? Shit.

"What was he drinking?" Brenda demanded, her tone harsh but still

somehow warm.

Sebastian shook his head. "Some weird fruit thing Gus made for him.

All I know is, it was sort of purple and Gus laughed about it."

Brenda's brow furrowed and she moaned. "Oh, Lord. If he's had more

than a sip, he's probably close to hammered. Belly can drink a twelve-pack
of beer and barely be buzzed, but give him a cocktail -- especially a fruit
cocktail -- and he's all loosey-goosey by the time it's half gone. Crap!"

Well, that explained it, Sebastian figured. Chase really had been

drinking in Hawaii. He'd just been drinking beer, rather than liquor. It
seemed they'd had more in common than Sebastian had realized, back in the
day.

"Look. Brenda. I know you don't know me, but Chase and I really are

old friends. Apparently not old enough or friends enough that I know why
you just called him 'Belly' but I can live with that." Sebastian offered a wry

grin. "My point is, I think he needs to get out of here before he says or does
something that would be best done in private, so... is there anyone here who
can close up or does he actually need to be here right now?"

Brenda spent long enough staring at him that Sebastian actually

started to feel like he had some sort of mischief in mind, but then she
nodded. Slowly, but she definitely nodded.

"Okay," she said. "The last table has already asked for their check, so

I can take it from here. I'm guessing you're the person Chase mentioned
before. The one he was so nervous about seeing that he decided to have an
actual cocktail. I'll need your room number."

Bastian frowned. "Six-twenty-eight," he said, telling himself Brenda

was simply concerned for her boss and apparent friend. "Sebastian Cole. I
had dinner here tonight with Peter Jamison, his nephew Riley, and Wallace
Durmont the Fourth, among others. I'm not likely to drag Chase away and
kill him or anything."

"It's the 'or anything' that concerns me," Brenda said bluntly. "Chase

can be a little easy when he's drunk. I'm not sure I can trust you not to take
advantage. He's a great guy."

Sebastian smiled just a little, his mind going back to the short time

he'd spent with Chase in Hawaii yet again. "Yeah," he admitted quietly.
"Yeah, he is."

After that, Brenda seemed to believe him for some reason. She even

locked the front and side doors of the restaurant a few minutes later, when
the last table left, and helped Sebastian haul a somewhat loopy Chase up to
Sebastian's room.

"I'll put in a time-delayed order for room service," she announced as

she was leaving. "Belly doesn't need to be in until two tomorrow afternoon,
so it'll be by around noon. Make sure someone's up and not naked. In fact,
just make sure nobody's naked at all until after he's sober. And I'm going to
close up the restaurant now. I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow."

Even as Sebastian closed and locked his hotel room door behind the

beautiful and protective woman, he knew that last was an order, rather than a
request. Then he looked at the long, lean body sprawled across his hotel bed,
Chase muttering away, and Sebastian realized it was a good thing that his

first love had such a staunch protector.

Given the way Chase reacted to liquor, God knew what might have

happened to the guy if Chase hadn't had people like Brenda around to watch
over him. Then again, Brenda had said Chase didn't usually drink liquor and
implied that the chef had only done so because of Sebastian. That kind of
made Chase's state Sebastian's fault, didn't it?

He sighed and shook his head. No, that made it Chase's fault. As far as

Sebastian knew, there was no law that said liquor was required when seeing
someone unexpectedly. Except he'd gone right for the Scotch, hadn't he, and
that sort of made casting blame of any sort -- if there was even any reason to
cast blame -- shallow and hypocritical and stupid. And maybe Chase had
needed to be drunk in order to say the things he'd said.

"And I can stand here all night wondering," Sebastian said to Chase's

still-muttering form on the bed, "or I can get some sleep and we'll talk about
it in the morning. I think I'm going with the second option."

Sebastian changed into his pajamas and crawled onto the bed beside

the softly snoring Chase. He had a few moments to start considering how
odd it was that he actually felt sleep stealing over him while there was
someone else in his bed, but those few moments faded as Chase's small
sounds combined with the hum of the air conditioning to lull him before he'd
even finished the thought.

***

Chase woke slowly, mostly because he was trying to stay asleep. He

wasn't hung over, he just had that strange, jangly feeling he always got when
he'd had a real drink. It hadn't been more than one, though. He knew that
much. Hell, he remembered it perfectly.

Bastian, showing up at the restaurant, entirely out of the blue.

Himself, stunned at running into the grown-up version of the boy Chase had
been half in love with. Then drinks, and... well, Chase couldn't call it talking,
could he? That would imply that there had been a conversation, and Chase
clearly recalled barely letting Bastian get a word in edgewise. In fact, if
Chase wasn't mistaken, the one drink he'd had had pretty much loosened his
tongue far too much. If it had been any looser, Chase figured it might have

slipped the leash entirely and run off all by itself. He would be waking up
with no tongue and needing to make up posters to attach to telephone poles
in the hopes of getting it back.

He remembered, a little fuzzily, Brenda and Bastian leading him

through the back of the restaurant and down the service corridor of the hotel
to the room service elevator, and even knew that he was in Bastian's room.
In Bastian's bed, unless Chase was mistaken.

That thought gave him a tiny jolt and Chase moved one hand to his

own chest, unsure about whether he was disappointed or relieved to find that
he was still dressed. Then his bladder started telling him that it was
responsible for him being awake and if Chase knew what was good for him,
he'd see to it as soon as humanly possible.

The remaining bits of sleep faded and Chase forced himself to move,

rolling from the bed and making a beeline for the bathroom. The only things
he wasn't wearing anymore were his shoes, as he discovered when he nearly
tripped over one of them on the way. He knew they were his. The chances of
Bastian wearing chef's clogs were between slim and none.

He looked pretty good, Chase decided as he stared at himself in the

mirror after using the commode and washing his hands. His eyes weren't
bloodshot, and the dark circles he usually had under his eyes after drinking
real liquor weren't as noticeable as he'd feared they would be.

He used some of Bastian's toothpaste and his own index finger to

scrub away the worst of his morning breath, then washed his hands again
and ran the damp digits through his hair, taming the bed-head.

It was only when he realized that he was looking around the bathroom

for something else to do that Chase realized he was trying to delay the
inevitable, but it just wasn't possible unless he wanted to strip off and take a
shower. Regardless of how good a deluge of steaming hot water might feel,
that would be pushing it. Bad enough that he'd gotten all bitter and rude with
Bastian the night before, but the guy had still been kind enough to take him
in. Just jumping into Bastian's shower as though he had a right to would be
too much. Presumptuous, at the very least.

"Time to face the music, I guess," he whispered to his reflection,

firming his jaw and giving himself a sharp nod.

As it turned out, the music wasn't that bad because Bastian was awake

but didn't seem to be upset or anything. In fact, Bastian was sitting up on the
edge of the bed, arms stretched over his head, back arched just enough for
Chase to see a half-inch or so of bare skin between the bottom of Bastian's
pajama top and the waistband of the matching bottoms.

"Hey," Bastian said simply, once he finished stretching. "Sleep okay?"

Damn. Just damn. Bastian was speaking as though they really were

the old friends Chase had named them. It was kind of unexpected after the
way Chase had acted in the bar, but also sort of not. Bastian had let him stay
the night, after all.

"Yeah," Chase answered, feeling sheepish all of a sudden. "Better

than I have in a while, to be honest."

Bastian laughed. "A good, hard buzz will do that for you. Your friend

Brenda ordered us breakfast last night. It's supposed to be here in half an
hour or so, so... make yourself comfortable. I need a shower and my
toothbrush, not necessarily in that order."

Chase sighed softly but nodded, crossing the room to settle himself in

one of the two chairs beside the small table near the bed. "Okay, I... Bastian?
I'm sorry about last night. Some of the things I said..." He shook his head
and Bastian laughed.

"Don't worry about it," Bastian said, already on the way to the

bathroom, though he diverted to a suitcase on a luggage rack for a minute,
apparently gathering clothes for later. "The whole situation was kind of
weird. Add booze, and... shit happens, Chase. I think we were both sort of in
shock. I'll just be a few minutes."

The bathroom door closed, and Chase heard the shower starting. God

help him, but no matter how he tried to think about work or his own
mortifying performance the night before, all Chase could do was remember
the last time he'd been in a hotel room with Bastian and a shower had been
running.

He'd stepped inside and heard the water. He'd had some idea about

slippery handfuls of soap bubbles and Bastian's skin against his own. He'd
stripped, right there outside the bathroom door, then stepped inside, and
Bastian... God, Bastian had been like a dream, all sun-browned except where

the usual shorts had kept him covered, and Bastian had been touching
himself, riding his own fingers, and Chase hadn't been able to resist the lure.
He should have. He'd known even then that he should have resisted, refused
himself that pleasure. He hadn't been able to think clearly, though, not when
he'd dreamed of being in Bastian ever since the first night they'd met. He
hadn't even thought about condoms until it was too late.

It was years gone and completely in the past, but Chase remembered it

as though it had just happened, or maybe as though it were still happening.
His cock seemed to remember, too, because it was for damned sure hard in
his slept-in jeans.

Bastian had been beautiful, skin covered in wet drops and streams,

hair turned a darker shade of sunshine by the water. Chase remembered
pushing inside him and being stunned by not only the tightness of Bastian's
body, but the sheer heat that didn't burn him but made him want more,
always more.

Chase had convinced himself that he'd forgotten, but it all came back

to him. Bastian's moans and cries. The way that lean, muscled body pushed
back, begging for more just as clearly as Bastian's noises did. He
remembered wrapping his arms around Bastian from behind, his chest so
tight against Bastian's spine, Chase had thought they might meld together.

He remembered being unable to pull away when the pressure inside

built too high, and how it had felt so damned right to spill himself hard and
deep inside Bastian, Bastian's body still clenching his prick, holding on like
it never wanted to let go in the aftermath of Bastian's orgasm.

Then Chase remembered the things Bastian had screamed at him --

most notably, "You fucking asshole, how could you not use a fucking
rubber?" and "You just wanted to fuck the virgin and figured I'd be fine with
catching whatever you have, or too stupid to know better!"

Yeah, that part had been less than great. Luckily for Chase, as far as

he was concerned right then, that particular portion of memory solved his
erection problem. Just in time, too, because the shower cut off. There was a
minute or so of relative silence, then the sink started running, and by the
time Bastian reemerged from the bathroom, Chase's body was under control.
He wasn't sure he could say the same about his emotions, though.

It had been eight years, yes, and Chase had convinced himself that his

time in Hawaii with Bastian had been just another interlude. Seeing Bastian
again, and remembering the time they'd spent together, was hitting him hard.
Hard enough that Chase thought he might need to reevaluate his now-shaky
conviction that over meant over.

Bastian had even said something about... "Did you say you had to go

home because of your dad? Back then, I mean. You said..."

"My father had a heart attack the day after we... you know." Bastian's

lips quirked a little and for whatever reason, Chase got the idea that the man
was embarrassed. "I didn't find out until after work that day. It kind of
freaked me out. I mean, he was in his early forties at the time and even
though that seemed ancient to me back then, it was still too young." Bastian
shrugged as he sat down in the chair opposite Chase. "I thought he was
going to die. Like I said last night, by the time the doctors told us he was out
of the woods, you weren't at your hotel anymore and I didn't have any idea
about how to find you. God, this sounds so stupid, but I didn't even know
your last name. I'm not sure if I ever knew it, but I for damned sure didn't
remember it, so..." Bastian shrugged again. "It was a little bit weird running
into you, especially since it seems so random, you know? I mean, I was
trying to get into business with Peter Jamison. I never thought our 'business
dinner' would end up being his nephew's birthday dinner, but I'm pretty sure
that was some sort of test, and God knows the very last thing I even
considered was that you would be here. I mean, really. How likely is it?"

Not very. Chase knew that much. Sure, there was such a thing as

coincidence, but the whole situation seemed to be a stretch. He wasn't
willing to say so, though, because then he'd probably spill the rest of what he
was thinking, which involved words like fate and destiny and I never forgot
you, even though I thought I had. None of that would do anything but freak
Bastian out and possibly have the man putting Chase into some nice, neat,
navel-gazing category.

Chase smiled, just a bit. "Well, Peter Jamison is very well-known in

Hartford and Pink Salt is the best restaurant in town, if I do say so myself.
He dines with us frequently, and whenever he has a special occasion that
requires a cake, I come out of the kitchen to do the honors, so maybe it's not
as unlikely as all that. Uh, you said you thought it was a business dinner?"

Maybe he'd been entirely off about the whole fruit-stand thing. Just

because Bastian's family had been involved in selling fruit years before, it

didn't mean they still were, and hadn't Bastian said something about trying to
run things when his dad got sick? Maybe the business had tanked and
Bastian was doing something else, these days. Chase hoped not, all of a
sudden, because if so, then he'd just reminded Bastian of what could only be
a dark period for him. But apparently not, because Bastian laughed. It was
soft and quiet, but definitely a laugh.

"I'm trying to get a new division started up, which is harder than it

might seem," Bastian said. "My folks aren't really psyched about it, and I
can't say they're necessarily wrong, but I still want to give it a try.
Unfortunately, I haven't had much luck with the big companies, but my best
friend -- she's an insomniac, so she watches a lot of late night TV -- said
something about the Hair Master infomercials offering hair care products
now, so I figured I'd try pitching to Peter Jamison."

What the fuck was Bastian talking about? "Uh, I thought you were in

fruit. I mean, maybe not anymore, but I don't get it."

"Sorry." Bastian was really smiling and Chase got the feeling he

wasn't sorry at all. "It's not as complicated as it sounds. See, my family...
hold on, that's our breakfast, I think."

Chase groaned but he didn't try to stop Bastian from getting up to

answer the knock at the door. He was hungry anyway, and maybe Bastian
would talk some more once they were eating. Chase didn't even care about
what, he just wanted to hear Bastian's voice some more. It was slightly
deeper than it had been eight years earlier, just as Bastian was slightly taller
and more solid. All those small differences worked for him, though. Chase
found the man even more appealing than he'd found Bastian to be in the
past.

It might be a bad thing that he was becoming attached. Again. Chase

knew that. It might not even be again, really. The fact that he felt so oddly
connected to Bastian, so interested in not losing track of him for a second
time, might mean that he'd never really been over Bastian in the first place.
Chase couldn't be sure quite yet, but it would definitely explain why none of
his relationships since had lasted.

Or maybe I just need closure. That could be it, too. I hated it when

things ended so suddenly, and who can say that Bastian and I would have
worked out? We were in completely different places in our lives and even if

he hadn't left when he did, he wasn't going to be in Hawaii forever. We
would have broken up eventually, when he had to go home, even if his family
hadn't needed him early. Maybe all my bullshit ideas about fate and destiny
really are bullshit. What I said was true. It really could just be coincidence,
damn it.

"So, where were we?" Chase asked when Bastian had wheeled the

room service cart to the table. "Peter Jamison, right?" Yeah, it was just
coincidence. Could have happened with anyone Chase had known and lost
track of. It was best not to complicate things with ridiculous notions. After
all, if whatever was between him as Bastian was fate, it would have
happened sooner.

***

Sebastian had welcomed the interruption when the knock had sounded

at the door. He'd been getting far too comfortable with Chase. Being able to
sleep well and deeply with Chase in the bed beside him had been strange
enough. Sebastian didn't sleep with people, at least not in the literal sense.
He was particular. Maybe too much so, even. Being aware of it didn't change
things, though. Sebastian needed complete quiet and solitude to sleep well...
except, apparently, with a drunken Chase.

It freaked him out, a lot, that having Chase beside him had felt

familiar and right, even after eight years. Eight fucking years and he hadn't
managed to forget how it felt to be in a bed with Chase beside him, hadn't
lost the bizarre belief that Chase was the one person he could trust.

God, he'd gotten so used to lying, even to himself, that he'd believed

Chase was a part of his past that didn't matter. That didn't seem to change
anything, especially when he was there in a hotel room with Chase after
being so sure they'd never meet again.

He counted himself lucky that Chase clearly didn't know what

Sebastian had been up to in the shower. He was fairly sure Chase hadn't
even noticed the tent in Sebastian's pajama pants before the rush to the
suitcase, then the bathroom. Just being there, naked and wet, with Chase in
the next room had been torment. Mostly the good kind of torment, but still.
Sebastian had needed to stifle his cry of completion with a wet washcloth,
just to make sure Chase didn't hear the result of the four strokes it had taken

to come, hard and rough, just from knowing Chase was out there. Jesus!

Then the talking, though this time Chase was asking questions, and

the last thing Sebastian wanted to talk about was work. He wanted to hear
about Chase, Chase's life, whether he was with anyone. If Chase was, then
that relationship was clearly in trouble because Chase had stayed out all
night without calling home or even getting a call asking where he was -- and
Chase's self-proclaimed fag-hag hadn't mentioned Chase having a boyfriend.
For some reason, Sebastian was sure she would have, but thinking so was a
whole world away from knowing so.

Sebastian smiled at the girl who stood behind the wheeled cart, then

signed the slip she offered, adding a hefty tip. "I'll take it from here...
Jenny," he said, reading her name from the tag she wore on her red vest.
"Thanks."

The perky blonde smiled and nodded. "That's fine, Mr. Cole. Just

leave the cart and dishes outside the door when you and Chef are finished.
Someone will come along to collect them. Have a good day, and enjoy your
meal!"

God, Sebastian could remember when he'd been that excited about

life. It had been a while, but he could remember it. It had felt amazing. Then
again, if he could manage the deal with Peter Jamison, Sebastian would
probably start feeling pretty damned excited again, for a little while, at least.

He offered the girl a smile in return, then pulled the cart inside and

shut the door.

"So, where were we?" Chase said once Sebastian made it across the

room to the table. "Peter Jamison, right?" Well, at least Chase had been
paying attention, sort of.

"Yeah," Sebastian agreed, already pulling domes from platters, his

mind boggling at the assortment of meats, fruits and grains Brenda had
ordered for them. There were pancakes and muffins; syrup and toast and
butter and jam; sausages, bacon and grilled ham, and eggs -- fried eggs,
scrambled eggs and some that even looked poached but not hockey-pucks.
There was coffee and milk and juice on the cart, too, though Sebastian
couldn't quite figure out how so much had fit on one cart without looking
like so much... or collapsing the cart under the weight of it all. "Jesus Christ,
who did she think was in here with us? An entire soccer team?"

Chase laughed and it sounded so bright and happy, Sebastian couldn't

help looking. His breath caught, just for a moment, because as much as some
of Chase's smiles had reminded Sebastian of the past, this time Chase looked
exactly the same. Eight years gone or not, Chase's delight had Sebastian
right back there, grinning while Chase exploded in laughter and simple
cheer. It stabbed at him, taking his breath away after as long as it had been
since he'd seen it last.

"She would probably pay good money for video if there were." Chase

laughed again, then added, "You know, I'm not sure why they even say that.
I mean, is there such a thing as bad money? I guess there would have to be if
'good money' is remarkable enough to comment on spending. Then again, I
also don't get why 'keep your eyes peeled' is anything but creepy, so..." He
shrugged and handed one of the two empty plates that had been included to
Sebastian. Sebastian hadn't even noticed them before. Possibly because they
weren't threatening him with a heart attack of his very own. "Anyway, that's
just Brenda. She probably didn't know what you'd like, so she ordered us
some of everything."

Well, that made sense in an odd sort of way, Sebastian decided. At

least it seemed considerate.

"She's a good friend," he said, helping himself to some ham and

bacon. "She really cares about you." He added some scrambled eggs and a
piece of toast to his plate. "Actually, I'm supposed to make sure you
survived the night and I'm meant to make an appearance at the restaurant
later. It didn't sound like it was optional."

Chase groaned, but it sounded more affectionate than despairing.

"Yeah, that's definitely Brenda. We've worked together for years and she's
probably my closest friend. If I weren't gay, she's the woman I'd marry, you
know?"

Sebastian chuckled, just a little. "Yeah. That's like me and Marisol. I

told you about her. She's the one who steered me toward Peter Jamison."
Sebastian smiled. "My best friend and I love her. If she were a guy, I'd be all
over her in a heartbeat. Actually, she should be a guy. Not only does she
spend most of her time with guys who aren't pursuing women, but she has
no maternal instinct whatsoever." She really didn't, though that was a good
thing as far as Sebastian was concerned.

"Brenda's the opposite," Chase said, tucking into fried eggs, muffins,

sausages and pancakes, with syrup poured over all of them, which had
Sebastian feeling just a little bit queasy. Not enough to stop eating, but still.
"She was married but her husband died in Iraq a while back. I've honestly
never met anyone who loved their kid as much as she does. Uh, not in a
creepy way or anything, she's just a really good mother, you know? That
doesn't seem to interfere with her fag-haggery, though."

Sebastian laughed and they continued eating, exchanging small bits of

information about the people currently in their lives. If Sebastian got happier
with every mention Chase made of someone who wasn't a boyfriend, then so
what? It just meant Chase might be available for a fling. They couldn't have
more, what with Sebastian's schedule. Not even if Sebastian had wanted that,
which he didn't. At all.

It wasn't until an hour later, when Chase had left and Wallace

Durmont the Fourth rang his room, that Sebastian remembered he'd agreed
to at least talk to the man. That Wallace-the-Fourth seemed to think he'd
agreed to much, much more was a little bit disturbing because Sebastian had
thought he'd made his disinterest clear.

He did his best, but the man just didn't seem to catch on. Eventually,

after nearly ten minutes of conversation that was stilted on Sebastian's side
and far too enthusiastic and suggestive on Wallace-the-Fourth's, Sebastian
agreed to meet the younger Durmont for dinner at Chase's restaurant.

Sebastian had a feeling he was going to regret it, but he couldn't afford

to burn any bridges. Not until he knew whether he and Peter Jamison could
come to an agreement, anyway.

He spent the few hours until dinner just wandering around downtown

Hartford. He didn't go far, really, but he enjoyed walking around, taking it
in. There were some nice boutique-style shops in amongst the bigger name
stores and Sebastian was almost sorry that he wasn't the shopping type. If he
had been, he probably would have spent too much, though, so maybe it was
a good thing.

He did duck inside a few places, picking up small gifts to send home

for everyone, but he shopped with purpose, not lingering any longer than he
absolutely had to.

He spoke with Peter Jamison when the man called Sebastian's cell to

set up a lunch meeting for the following day, then made his way back to the
Hotel Durmont where he changed for dinner.

Brenda was at the hostess stand when Sebastian got to the restaurant's

main doors in the lobby. Of course she was. She looked even prettier than
she had the night before and she actually smiled at Sebastian. He felt like she
might be proud of him for some reason.

"If it isn't my fifth favorite person in the world right now," she said,

still smiling. "I didn't see your name in the book, but I think I can find you a
table anyway. Call it my way of saying thank you." For what, he didn't
know, but he would take it.

Sebastian shrugged but returned her smile. "Fifth?" he asked in

response to her initial greeting, "I thought I'd rank higher than that. I mean,
I'm cute and all. That should make me more appealing, considering your
second job. You know, the one with the initials..." He leaned closer and
whispered, "Fag Hag."

Brenda laughed, her eyes sparkling in the subdued but still more than

adequate light there in the entry. "Trust me," she said easily, "fifth is pretty
remarkable. I only met you yesterday. So do you actually need a table or did
you just stop in to say hi? You'd be amazed at how many people do that. I
think they're hoping if they're friendly and nice to me, I'll make exceptions
for them."

"And do you?" Sebastian arched a brow. It was a good question, he

figured. He'd never really wondered about that sort of thing before, mostly
because he was in the habit of being nice to people on general principle, at
least until they pissed him off.

Another laugh, and Brenda nodded just enough for Sebastian to see it.

"Well, of course I do, foolish boy. I have a fondness for smart people.
Anyone who treats me like I'm an idiot doesn't realize I'm their best bet for
getting a good table or being sat quickly. Unless they happen to be the son of
the hotel's owner, but that a whole other story. The ones who treat me like an
intelligent human being will always get preferential treatment." Her softly
spoken words that had clearly been meant for him alone acquired a more
normal volume as she spoke on. "I have a nice little two-top by the far wall
that I could give you..."

Sebastian sighed, already knowing she was going to be less than

happy with him when he answered. Her comment about owners' sons left
little doubt in his mind. Still, he wasn't about to lie just to try staying in her
good graces. Not when she would know better the minute he set foot in the
dining room. That didn't mean he had to let her think he was happy about the
situation, though.

"I would really love to take you up on that. Truly. Unfortunately, I'm

supposed to be having dinner with a certain hotel owner's son." Sebastian
shrugged, already feeling weary, though he'd been well-rested as little as two
minutes earlier. "I doubt hiding in my room would work, so here I am."

That was entirely more honest than he should have been and Sebastian

knew it, but for some reason he trusted Brenda. He didn't know why, really,
because they barely knew each other, but Chase trusted her and... and he did
not just think that. He couldn't possibly trust Brenda just because someone
else he barely knew did. Could he?

Oh, fuck. This is worse than I thought.

He ignored Brenda's wide-eyed stare for the three seconds it lasted.

The sympathetic gaze that followed was harder to bear. Then she nodded
again, a bit more sharply than before, and led him to the table in the
absolutely darkest, farthest corner of the dining room.

Yeah, because where else would a closeted, outwardly homophobic

man who thinks he owns the world and doesn't know how to take 'no' for an
answer want to sit while trying to seduce another man? Shit, I'm amazed he
didn't arrange for us to eat in the store room of the gift shop or something,
just to be sure no one saw us. Not that it makes any difference because
there's no way this dinner is going to lead to anything but me letting him
down. Easy or with prejudice, his choice.

And maybe, if luck was on his side, Sebastian would be able to spend

a little more time with Chase before Chase left for the night. A man could
always hope, anyway.

***

"So how was dinner with the mini-boss-man?" Chase knew he

sounded as grumpy as he was, but he couldn't be bothered to pretend

otherwise. The nearly last-minute demand for a special romantic menu for
D-four and a date wasn't exactly unusual. It happened maybe once a month
or so. For that so-called date to be Bastian, though, still had Chase's head
throbbing just as it had done since Brenda's visit to the kitchen to share that
bit of news.

It helped some that Brenda had been sure Bastian wasn't thrilled with

the idea, either, but it still rankled. It rankled even more that Chase knew he
had no reason to be even slightly upset. He and Bastian weren't together.
They'd shared a bed the night before, but in the strictly literal sense. They'd
indulged themselves in the late breakfast that had been delivered, and talked
for more than an hour. Neither one of them had suggested that they go out,
or even just fuck, and that meant... what?

Mostly it meant that Chase had no right or reason to be jealous, but

fuck if that wasn't what he was feeling. He was jealous that Bastian had
spent the evening in a dark corner of the restaurant with D-four, and even
more bothered by having to prepare their fucking dinner himself. So sue
him.

Of course, Brenda had come back into the kitchen after the dessert

course to pass along the message from Bastian that he would be in the bar if
Chase had time to get out of the kitchen. That was less bothersome. It was so
much less than bothersome that Chase had made the time. Even so, he
figured his annoyance had come out in that one sentence, the first he'd
spoken on seeing Bastian.

Bastian arched a brow at him, doing some weird Spock-thing, but

Chase saw Bastian's lips quirk just a bit at the corners. "Could I get one
more Scotch, and a beer for Chase?" Bastian asked Gus, though he was very
obviously still looking at Chase. Chase could feel the weight of those blue
eyes like a touch.

Gustavo chuckled. "You've got it, Sebastian. I'll bring your drinks

over to the corner booth as soon as I fill these orders for the restaurant."

"Thanks." Bastian got up from the bar stool he'd been occupying,

holding his glass of Scotch, and started across the small bar area, and Chase
didn't even think about not following. He was a little irritated that he would
have to wait for his beer, but by the same token, it was good that Gus was
taking care of the paying customers first.

Bastian didn't actually take the corner booth, and that was another

good thing. The corner booth was for parties of five or more, and while there
weren't any large groups currently waiting for tables in the dining room,
Chase thought it was considerate of Bastian to take the next booth over,
which was much smaller and designed for only two people.

"Well? How was your 'romantic dinner' with D-four?" He tried not to

snarl the question. He still didn't have any right to be jealous, damn it.
Sebastian rolled his eyes and took a long, slow swallow of Scotch and Chase
found himself clenching his hands into fists. "Whatever he said, he didn't
mean it. He's a bastard." Okay, that was a dangerous thing to say about
D-four, but fuck it. It was the truth, and Chase didn't regret speaking his
mind.

Bastian laughed. "As far as I know, his parents were married when he

was conceived, so I don't know that 'bastard' is the right term. I think the
word you're looking for is 'asshole,' or more to the point, 'self-absorbed,
spoiled-rotten, middle-aged closeted jackass with a sense of entitlement,' but
that's more than just one word, so let's just go with 'asshole,' okay? Whatever
we want to call him, though, I have to say he's an easy man to turn down,
even if it does take him a while to grasp the concept of someone not wanting
him. He caught on eventually."

The laugh that left Chase then was unexpected, though he had a

suspicion it was at least partly fueled by relief. D-four hadn't managed to
fool Bastian, and that shouldn't have surprised him. Bastian had never been
stupid, even at not-quite-nineteen. In fact, Bastian had been smarter than
most people Chase had known back then, which likely had a fair bit to do
with how hard Chase had fallen. Beauty and brains had been a dangerous
combination for Chase's well-being. Hell, they still were. So he shouldn't
have been surprised that Bastian hadn't been fooled by D-four's act,
whatever it had been, but he was.

"Okay," he said as Gus brought their drinks to the table, then left after

giving Chase a clandestine wink. "But how was the food?" Bastian grinned
and took another sip of Scotch. Watching his throat work nearly had Chase
groaning aloud, though he avoided it by taking a long draught from his beer.

Bastian set his glass down and cocked his head. "Honestly? I didn't

care for the soup. Not because it wasn't good. It was. I'm just not a really big
fan of pureed asparagus. I love it when it's whole and cooked properly, but I

don't see the point of grinding it up and making it into a liquid." He
shrugged and Chase would have liked to argue the point, but he couldn't. He
agreed with Bastian, but D-four loved cream of asparagus soup and had
specifically requested it.

"That salad was amazing, though. With the spiced apples and arugula.

I liked the candied pecans and the cranberry vinaigrette, too. The little
slivers of sharp cheddar totally made it for me."

Chase listened while Bastian critiqued the rest of the meal, nodding

every now and again, and he couldn't help thinking that Bastian was more
aware of food and what Chase had been aiming for with the meal than
D-four would ever be. Pretty amazing for the son of people with a fruit
stand. Then he heard the last of Bastian's words, this time about the desserts.

"... lemon curd was really tasty. Just tart enough, and that takes some

serious skill, from what I've tasted before. But the glazed fruit on top was...
well, it was pretty enough; I'll give you that. It just wasn't very good."
Bastian blushed suddenly, probably catching Chase's unguarded expression,
though Chase didn't know what was showing on his face, exactly.

"I don't mean it was bad!" Bastian announced insistently. "I just.

Well, it could have been better, is all. One thing I know with regards to food
is fruit. I don't know which purveyor your restaurant uses, but I'm guessing
you get your fruits from your produce company, and believe me, Chase.
Produce companies are too diversified to pay attention to getting the really
good fruits."

Chase was almost offended. He was the one who chose which

companies to order from, after all, and he thought Sunny Side Produce had
pretty damned good fruit. Of course, Bastian's family had allegedly been in
the fruit business at one time, so maybe Bastian knew what he was talking
about. Still, the fruit Chase could get in Connecticut probably wasn't as good
as what was available in Southern California, so instead of being offended or
taking Bastian's words as a personal affront, Chase took a deep breath then
another long drink of beer.

"It's either fruit from our produce purveyor or we have to order it from

one of the gourmet shops," he answered after a moment. "The gourmet
places here are really good but they're too expensive. I have to keep an eye
on food costs. If they go too high, I'm in big heaps of trouble. Believe me, I'd

love to be able to buy from the best shops around, but it's just not feasible."
And when had drinks with Bastian turned into work-talk? Jesus. Work was
so not what Chase wanted to be talking about.

Bastian, though, seemed to be really into it because he leaned forward,

elbows on the table between them and shook his head.

"What do you think about Cole Valley Farms?" Bastian asked and

Chase laughed. Hell, he laughed loud enough that the few people still in the
bar and in Chase's field of vision turned to stare at him.

"I think that's like asking me what I think of Rolls Royces. Some of

those gourmet stores I mentioned carry Cole Valley fruit, but like I said, it's
out of my price range." It sucked, but it was the truth.

Bastian smirked just a little and finished the bare quarter-inch of

Scotch left in his first glass, then took a small sip from the similar though
more full glass Gus had brought over with Chase's beer. "Cole Valley Farms
is getting ready to extend the wholesale division to Connecticut. That means
you'd be able to bypass the retail outlets and buy direct, which would
probably make it much more affordable since the retail stores here are
already buying Cole Valley fruits at retail then marking it up by some truly
obscene percentage."

Bastian's smirk got deeper and Chase felt his stomach clench. He

didn't know why his belly had gone tight, not yet, but his brain was already
working on the question, though not fast enough.

"Wholesale distribution has already started in Massachusetts and New

York, though in a limited number of venues. It won't really set roots in
Connecticut for another six months or so, but I have some pull with the
company. If you're interested."

They'd started talking about Bastian's family earlier that day. Chase

remembered that. Then they'd gotten sidetracked by food and discussing
their friends and a few dozen other things, and somehow Bastian's family
hadn't come up again. The way Bastian was talking right then, though, about
things he couldn't possibly know without some sort of inside information?

The pieces cascaded down from somewhere at the top of Chase's

skull, and when they landed in the middle of his brain, he was thoroughly
and completely embarrassed.

He could have been angry, or even offended that Bastian had never

mentioned the truth, but he wasn't. No, Chase was mortified. Because he
could have asked, back in Hawaii, rather than assuming Bastian's family had
a fucking fruit stand or something along those lines, just because Bastian
was working the fields. He could have asked, and he hadn't. He'd just made
assumptions and those assumptions had carried over to the present. Hell,
he'd assumed that Bastian had found a different line of work, too. Bastian
had even said he was called Sebastian these days, and he'd been dining with
Peter Jamison, for fuck's sake! Chase had no clue about how fruit and Peter
Jamison went together, other than in the euphemistic sense, but still, what a
fool he'd been!

Chase downed the remainder of his beer in one draught and turned,

gesturing to Gus for another. "So it's Sebastian Cole, then. As in Cole Valley
Farms. That's... not something that even occurred to me before." Chase
stared at the table top, his hands clenching again in an effort to release some
of the emotional unrest he felt. "I'm sorry, Bastian. Sebastian, I mean,
about... you know. The fruit stand and off-ramp thing. Shit, you must think
I'm such an asshole."

The last response Chase was expecting was a laugh, but that was what

he got. Not a half-assed, condescending laugh, either, but a full, strong
belly-laugh. It stunned him enough that his eyes left the table top and fixated
on Bast... Sebastian's face, and however deep Chase might have been eight
years earlier, just seeing that expression had him even deeper.

"I... Sorry. Sorry, Chase, but I just realized. After everything in

Hawaii, and last night, and earlier today... we've still never been properly
introduced. That's pretty fucking sad, isn't it?"

It took a second or two, but yeah, Chase couldn't deny that. "Oh, God,

you're right," he managed before he started laughing just as hard.

Gus gave them a weird look when he dropped off Chase's beer, but

that only made Chase laugh harder.

It took them a while to wind down, mostly because even looking at

each other would start them going again, but eventually Chase managed to
gather himself. It was difficult and he was still wheezing a little from the
fight between oxygen and laughter, but he formed actual words as he held
out his hand across the table.

"If you laugh, I'll kick your ass," he said as a preface to his

long-belated introduction. "Bellamy Chase. I go by just Chase, though."

A slender, elegant hand met his own, long fingers gripping tightly.

"Sebastian Cole. You can call me Bastian. Hey, isn't Bellamy the name of
that company that makes gay porn?" Bastian grinned, clearly trying to taunt
him.

Chase snorted, though he didn't make any effort to pull his hand from

Bastian's grip. He didn't miss the emphasis, either. That Bastian had said
Chase could still call him that was... well, it was unexpected but very cool.
Even so, "That would be Bel Ami. And I'm pretty sure Mom named me, and
she wouldn't know from gay porn. It was her grandfather's name."

Bastian chuckled, soft and low. It went straight to Chase's cock, taking

him from slightly hard to fully sprung in seconds. "In that case, I guess it's a
good thing you're Bellamy Chase, not Chase Bellamy. 'Chase Bellamy'
sounds more like an invitation than a name, considering." Then Bastian's
fingers flexed a little bit against his palm, one nail scraping on the heel of
Chase's hand, and Chase opened his mouth to say something that was
completely not what came out.

What he was thinking was something along the lines of how long are

you in town. What he actually said was, "I'm not seeing anyone."

Chase felt his cheeks go hot, so hot that there was little doubt he was

blushing brightly enough for Bastian to see it. "I mean, I'm. Fuck." Yeah,
backpedaling wasn't working for him right then. Hell, he was amazed that
he'd managed to string any words together at all, not to mention chagrined
that those were the ones he'd spoken.

"Neither am I," Bastian said simply, another finger joining the first in

teasing Chase's palm. "Honestly, I feel all eighteen again, sitting here
holding your hand." Yeah... they kind of were holding hands, weren't they?
"Maybe this time we can avoid all the angst," Bastian added. "Assuming
you're as turned on as I am right now and want to come to my room when
you've finished work?"

Chase couldn't speak. Literally. There were words he wanted to say

and they were trapped in his throat. He opened his mouth, then closed it
again when nothing came out. The last thing he needed was to be doing his
best goldfish impression and making Bastian rethink that idea.

Instead of speaking he squeezed Bastian's fingers tight and nodded

repeatedly. Fortunately, that seemed to be enough because Bastian nodded
too, then swallowed hard, as though he were having trouble forming words,
too. Bastian lifted their joined hands and pressed a slow, damp-but-not-wet
kiss to the back of Chase's hand.

"Don't rush," Bastian said, his voice a near-whisper that sent shivers

up and down Chase's spine. "I need to run out for supplies, so give me at
least an hour or so. You know where my room is; I'll see you when you
finish work."

Bastian downed the last of his Scotch, one hand on the glass while the

other still held Chase's, then the man slid out of the booth and leaned down.
Chase moaned softly when Bastian released his hand, only to lose that sound
in Bastian's mouth a split second later.

Bastian's kiss was just as good as Chase remembered it being. It might

even have been better. By the time Chase was thinking clearly enough to ask
for another sample, just to be sure, Bastian was already gone, leaving Chase
in the booth, his cock hard and yearning in his black-and-pinks.

Chase finished his beer, not upset in the slightest. He still had work to

do, after all, and he would be seeing Bastian later. They would have plenty
of time for kisses, not to mention other things. Things that would require the
supplies Bastian was going to acquire.

The fact that Bastian didn't have any of those supplies on hand

actually had Chase feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. For whatever reason,
it made him think Bastian didn't fuck around a lot on the road, and yeah.
That was good.

***

Good God, he was going to have sex with Chase. Sebastian almost

couldn't believe it, but there it was. Chase was going to come to Sebastian's
hotel room and there was about zero chance that there wouldn't be sex. If
there had been any doubt in Sebastian's mind, the way Chase hadn't objected
or even commented about the need for condoms and lube would have
cleared it up.

Chase hadn't argued, though, and that had Sebastian smiling for the

entire four blocks to the drug store and back, following the directions from
concierge services. Okay, Chase hadn't said anything at all, if Sebastian was
being strictly accurate, but the man had for damned sure agreed with lips and
tongue and the pressure of Chase's work-roughened fingers in Sebastian's
own.

Sebastian was back in his room within forty minutes of leaving Chase

in the bar, and he wasn't nervous. He'd expected to feel some anxiety once
he was back and at loose ends, waiting for Chase to show up, whenever that
might be. He had at least another fifteen minutes because he'd told Chase an
hour at the soonest, but far from being worried, all Sebastian felt was
anticipation. Sure, they were both older and they didn't really know each
other anymore, but somehow everything felt familiar, even while feeling
shiny and new.

"Well, using condoms with Chase will be new," Sebastian said out

loud, his own voice startling him slightly. Startled or not, he still laughed.
Jesus Christ, he'd been so freaked out the last time with Chase. Freaked out
and scared and more than a little angry, right at first. Sebastian remembered
that now. Even when he'd gotten over most of the anger, he'd still been a
little bit frightened because HIV and AIDS were fucking scary. He couldn't
swear to it, so many years later, but he'd probably been planning to talk to
Chase about it. Probably would have, too, if things hadn't gone as they had.

That one time with Chase was the only time Sebastian had been

thoroughly unsafe in his life, and he counted himself lucky that frequent
testing had shown nothing unpleasant. It only took one time, after all, just
like getting a girl pregnant.

Sebastian could laugh about how scared he'd been, considering how

long ago everything had happened with Chase, but it wasn't an experience he
wanted to repeat -- the worrying and frequent, almost obsessive testing,
rather than the having sex part. The sex he was definitely ready, willing, and
able to do again... with the appropriate necessities, of course.

The silence really was too loud, as strange as that seemed to

Sebastian, but it was easily dealt with. He turned on the TV, flipping
channels until he landed on one of the music video stations and adjusted the
volume until it was loud enough to provide adequate background noise but
not so loud that he wouldn't be able to hear whatever noises Chase might

make. And Chase would be making noises. Sebastian would see to that.
Whether those noises would be from fucking or being fucked was another
question entirely, and not one Sebastian was overly concerned with.

Chase had topped their one time together, and it would be fine if he

wanted to do it again. Sebastian was versatile that way. He wouldn't even
think of saying no if Chase felt the urge to let Sebastian pound hard into
what he remembered as being a beautiful ass, though.

Okay, maybe I never really forgot him. Maybe I just pretended to

because I figured I'd never see him again. But I for damned sure did see him,
and I'm about to see even more of him. All of him. Whatever happens will be
fun and good and it's not like I'm going to be in Hartford forever. It'll be
closure or something. Bare naked closure, with sex.

The thought had Sebastian chuckling and growing hard again, even as

he set down the TV remote and grabbed the drugstore bag from where he'd
flung it onto the bed. He carefully removed the box of condoms and tubes of
lubricant, then chuckled again at his own optimism. A dozen condoms and
three separate boxes of lube? Optimism might not even be a strong enough
word.

Then again, there was no rule that said he had to use everything he'd

bought, at least not right away. He might spend some more time with Chase
while in Hartford, but even if he didn't, Sebastian could take the supplies
with him when he left. It was possible that breaking his dry spell, with Chase
of all people, might remind Sebastian of how good sex could be, even when
it was temporary. If the sex was good enough, Sebastian might even start
making time in his busy schedule for a semi-regular arrangement with
someone back in Boston, or even just a few random encounters. He hadn't
felt the urge for a while, really, until Chase. Again.

Sebastian wandered around the room, making a few circuits, though

there wasn't much purpose to it. It was a hotel room, after all, and while it
was very nice, it was still impersonal and nothing tremendously special: a
couch near the small hallway that led into the main room, coffee table, desk
and office-style chair, a small table with two ladder-back chairs, the bed and
bedside tables. His eyes kept returning to the box of rubbers and tubes of
lubricant, and Sebastian could imagine what Chase -- the younger Chase of
eight years earlier -- would have said at seeing the sheer quantity.

Sebastian loosened his tie, then shrugged out of his suit jacket and

draped it over the back of one of the table chairs, then he opened the box of
condoms and pulled out four, setting them on the nightstand nearest to him.
He tore open one box of lubricant, placing the tube beside the rubbers, then
shoved the remainder into the drawer of the bedside table, right next to the
Bible and the Book of Mormon. For some reason, he found that amusing.

A glance at his watch showed that it was ten minutes past the hour

he'd initially suggested to Chase, but Sebastian wasn't worried. Chase would
show; he was sure of that much; he just didn't know exactly when. It was
that very uncertainty that kept Sebastian from taking a quick shower. The
last thing he wanted was to miss Chase knocking at the door because he
couldn't hear it over the water.

"I should have just given him my key. I could have gotten another

from the front desk if I'd asked, damn it." If he'd asked and if he'd thought of
it before right then. But it had been him showering that had led to the whole
unsafe sex thing in Hawaii, Sebastian remembered, so maybe that would
have been a bad idea anyway. He and Chase were older and more
experienced these days, but the way Chase had kissed him back in the bar
told Sebastian that they might very easily get carried away. Sebastian hoped
so, as long as they got carried away safely. That was no reason to still be
standing around in his suit when Chase finally got there, though.

He undressed slowly, carefully placing his suit pants and dress shirt

on the hanger and retrieving his jacket to add it to the collection, then
Sebastian stood there in his dark green boxer briefs and thought about what
to wear.

Nothing complicated, but that was a given. Something that would

provide easy access but wouldn't look slutty when he opened the door for
Chase. It was possible that there might be other people in the hallway, after
all, and maybe even children. Sebastian had seen a few kids wandering
around with parents in tow since he'd checked in. The last thing he needed
was to have someone's pride and joy -- the fruit of their looms -- asking why
some man was wearing underwear while letting another man into a hotel
room. No, the very last thing Sebastian needed was that same pride and joy
asking why the half-naked man was hiding a banana, or possibly a
cucumber, in his underwear. Connecticut might be more open-minded than
several other places Sebastian had been, but there was no reason to tempt
fate, was there?

Unfortunately, fate seemed to be tempting him because as soon as

Sebastian decided on a pair of drawstring pants that weren't technically
pajamas but what he wore when he had to go to the lobby for some reason
late at night, someone was knocking at his door. He spent a second or three
vacillating between digging the pants out from the bottom of his suitcase or
chancing it, because the reasons to be wearing more than briefs were still
valid, but then the knock came again, sounding more tentative this time.

It had to be Chase at the door. It had to. And if Sebastian made him

wait, Chase might leave, and that would be a tragedy, damn it.

"Fuck it. Guess I'm taking my chances." It actually felt good, once the

decision was made quietly. "Be right there," Sebastian called out, louder
than the words he'd said solely for himself. Then he crossed to the door and
opened it a crack, peering out and grinning when he saw a very
relieved-looking but obviously impatient Chase. "Is the hallway clear?"
Sebastian demanded, his cock suddenly even harder than it had already been.

Chase frowned like he was confused, but he still glanced to his left,

then his right. Sebastian almost laughed when those warm brown eyes met
his again. "I don't see anyone else out here," Chase answered, rocking from
side to side just a little. "Were you expecting -- hey!"

Sebastian doubted anyone had ever opened a door wide, dragged

someone inside, and closed the door again as quickly as he did then. He
wasn't actually going for the record, but he thought he'd probably broken it,
anyway. Then he forgot all about it because Chase was there, right in front
of him and in private, and Chase was wearing far too many clothes.

"I was expecting you," Sebastian managed to say before the

temptation became too strong. He had to kiss Chase again. Needed it like he
needed to breathe, it felt like.

His hands released Chase's shirt, one darting up and around the back

of Chase's head while the other latched on to a chef-pants-covered hip and
Sebastian pressed Chase hard against the wall of the small hallway, his
mouth covering Chase's roughly.

He already felt like he was a minute away from coming, just from

kissing Chase while having their bodies so close together. God, it was just
like it had been, back in the day, but even more urgent because Sebastian
remembered it so clearly when Chase was in his arms.

Chase seemed to remember, too, because his head was tipping just the

way Sebastian liked, finding that perfect angle that allowed their tongues to
probe and slide, meeting and parting without ever fully separating, though
the mechanics of it seemed unlikely if Sebastian thought about. So he didn't.
He didn't think about it. He just kept kissing Chase and being kissed by
Chase, his body priming itself more and more with each slick stroke of
tongue, each motion of Chase's damp palms against his skin. Sebastian didn't
know exactly when Chase had grabbed hold of him in return, but it didn't
matter. It only mattered that Chase had, that Chase was running those
work-rough hands up and down Sebastian's back, his sides, his spine. God, it
felt good, maybe too good.

Somehow Sebastian managed to release Chase's hair, Chase's hip. He

discovered some formerly unsuspected degree of coordination that allowed
him to slide Chase's chef jacket from defined shoulders, though it took some
effort because Chase didn't seem to want to stop touching Sebastian's back.
Less than a second had the sweaty, damp work t-shirt yanked over Chase's
head. Sebastian didn't know where the t-shirt landed, but he didn't much
care. It wasn't on Chase's body anymore, which was the important thing.

He dove in for another kiss, moaning when pressing closer had him

feeling the proof of Chase's interest, hard and full against him. He imagined
he could even feel the blood-red heat through his own boxer briefs and
Chase's chef pants, as well as whatever Chase was wearing under them.
Then Chase's hands dropped from his back and Sebastian moaned again as
those hands found his ass and gripped hard, dragging Sebastian's body even
tighter to Chase's.

"Chase!" Sebastian cried, but it was muffled and sounded more like

"Chssz!" because their mouths were still welded tightly together, tongues
dancing wildly against each other. "Chase!" he tried again, and Chase
seemed to register that Sebastian was speaking rather than moaning.

"You need to be naked," Sebastian said, panting just a bit when Chase

finally pulled away enough for true speech. "You need to be naked and in
my bed. I've waited way too long for this to come in my underwear, for
fuck's sake!"

God, that was true. Sebastian hadn't even known it, but some part of

him had been waiting to be with Chase again. Some unsuspected,
unacknowledged part that Sebastian hadn't even known existed until that

very moment.

Chase looked a little bit dazed, but he nodded. "Uh-huh. Yeah. Yeah.

Naked is good. Bed is good. This... fuck, this is good, Bastian."

Sebastian tried to laugh but it came out shakier than he wanted it to.

"Good might be an understatement. Now, enough talk. Come on."

He grabbed Chase's hands once Chase stopped squeezing his ass, then

Sebastian dragged the man from the little hallway and into the room, not
stopping until they were beside the bed. Chase wasn't fighting him, which
wasn't exactly a surprise. Sebastian would have questioned things if Chase
had. As it was... well, Sebastian learned a few things in the next fifteen
seconds or so.

First was that Chase's chef pants had an elastic waist, which made

getting Chase out of them much easier than Sebastian had feared. Second,
that Chase had somehow walked right out of his kitchen shoes between the
hallway and the bed. Thirdly, Sebastian learned that Chase's underwear of
choice for work were boxer briefs remarkably similar to Sebastian's own,
though Chase's were baby blue. The color didn't have any effect on how
quickly they slid down Chase's legs when Sebastian crouched and dragged at
them, though.

God, Chase's cock was still the best looking thing Sebastian had ever

seen. Still just as thick and long as it had been before. It still made
Sebastian's mouth water, too, and it was right there, staring him eye to eyes,
so to speak. He wanted a taste so fucking badly. Sebastian could feel the
urge to lean forward just a bit and swipe his tongue over the deep red tip, to
lap at the clear, bubbling fluid he saw there. Fuck, he wanted that. Wanted to
feel Chase in his mouth again, smooth skin sliding slick and easy over his
tongue until that bulbous tip was nestled at the back of his throat.

He wanted to hear Chase moan, groan, beg for Sebastian to take him

further, to the end. He wanted to feel Chase's hands on his head, holding on
while Sebastian devoured that luscious flesh until Chase burst, filling
Sebastian's mouth and throat with thick, rich spunk that would only satisfy
Sebastian's craving for hours, at best. He wanted Chase in his bed more, but
that didn't stop Sebastian from taking one fast, desperate swipe at Chase's
tip.

"Oh, fuck no!" Chase gasped the words, but Sebastian heard them.

Even if he hadn't, he would have grasped their meaning because that was all
it took. Chase bucked and his body shook and before Sebastian even knew
what was happening, strong spurts of thick white cream were hitting his
face, his chin, even his shoulders and chest while Chase grunted like he was
in pain.

"Shit, shit, shit," Chase muttered, falling back onto the bed, but that

was fine because at least Chase was talking. Sebastian didn't have a single
clue about what to say without sounding entirely smug, completely
disappointed, or fully amused, none of which he figured would go over well
with Chase while the guy was blushing so hotly. It looked like all the blood
that had been in Chase's prick just a second earlier had relocated to Chase's
face. In a way, Sebastian couldn't blame him. He probably would have been
just as red if he'd gone off like a cocked pistol from one tiny lick.

On the other hand, Sebastian was utterly flattered. He'd never had

anyone want him so badly that they'd been that quick off the mark. Not since
high school and the similar facial he'd been given then, but this was better.
Hell, he'd almost come himself when the first splatter had hit his cheek. He
kind of thought that he should have let it happen, just to make Chase feel
less... less whatever Chase was feeling. Sebastian was still damned close to
shooting his own wad, just from the scent of Chase's come, though. Close
enough that Sebastian figured it wouldn't take much at all.

He stood and crawled onto the mattress, arranging himself carefully

beside Chase. He didn't bother to wipe any of Chase's fluids from his skin,
taking a moment to shuck and toss his own underwear before choosing his
words carefully and speaking.

"I'm amazed that you beat me to it," Sebastian said. He didn't try to

make himself sound wanton. He didn't need to. "Shit, Chase, I was about to
blow, and then you did, and you stopped. Just fucking touch me, okay? I'm
so ready." Chase groaned and this time it sounded pitiful, like the guy was
humiliated or something, and Sebastian couldn't have that, damn it. "Fine,"
Sebastian said then, taking Chase's closer hand in his own and pressing it to
his own erection. "Just let me hump your hand. It won't take more than a
minute." He wasn't even lying because as soon as he felt Chase's skin against
his own that way, so much rougher than his dick, Sebastian took a hitched
breath and started rocking.

Chase wasn't even holding his cock, but Sebastian still got off on

rubbing against Chase's hand in mere seconds. "Oh. Oh, just... like... that!"
he managed to rasp as the first sharp burst left him, propelled from his balls.
His cream splattered Chase's hand and Sebastian's own, slicking skin with
heat and even more scent. When Sebastian could think again, he realized just
how good he and Chase smelled together. "Fuck, that felt good," he
murmured, entirely sincere.

***

There were a lot of things Chase could have said to excuse his

stunning lack of stamina when he'd exploded from the simple touch of
Bastian's tongue to his cock. Things like Chase had been single for a while,
or that he'd been hard and wanting for hours, or even that Chase hadn't had
anyone's mouth near his dick in over a year. He could have said any of those
things and felt less mortified that he'd come all over Bastian's face, but he
didn't. He hadn't needed to, because Bastian had apparently been just as
ready. Hell, Bastian had lost it barely a minute later, just from Chase's hand
resting on his cock.

Chase didn't want to come across as crazy, but he thought that might

mean something. Something more than that they were just hot for each
other. At least, Chase hoped that was what it meant. The other option was
that he'd developed some weird sort of erectile dysfunction since the last
time he'd been with anyone but his own hand, and if that were the case,
Chase would rather have died from embarrassment when he'd given Bastian
that entirely unintentional facial.

"Uh, sorry," Chase said, Bastian's come still cooling on his hand. "For

the spunk-in-the-face. I probably should have warned you." Because Bastian
had come fast, too, so there was less shame in admitting Chase's own
orgasm had been both unexpected and unplanned.

Bastian let loose a laugh that was as soft as it was shaky. "Shit, Chase.

It's been eight years, and the way things ended left us with an ass-load of
unfinished business. I'm just glad we managed to get naked before we both
shot off like kids."

Well, that was true enough, Chase supposed. Neither of them had ever

known what had happened to the other. They'd both made assumptions that
had proved to be erroneous. Chase hadn't been aware of any lingering

concerns about Bastian, but considering everything they'd been through in
the last... God, was it only a day and a half, maybe less?

Whatever. It was obvious that there was something there, some sort of

deep-seated, unresolved issue that had drawn them together again. Chase
couldn't even pretend to be sorry.

"I guess that means we'll last longer when we get it up again." Okay,

maybe not the most sensitive thing he could have said, but Chase wasn't
really the hearts-and-flowers type. He could be, but not until whoever he
was with took that step first. "Uh, I think I need a shower, though. I'm kind
of..." He wondered how to say
sweaty-and-gross-and-your-jism-is-all-over-my-hand without actually
saying it. Fortunately, Bastian solved the problem for him.

"Shut up. I'm the one with come on his face," Bastian said with a

laugh. "But I guess you have a point. When we fuck for real, I'd rather not
have my skin abraded by your salt crystals. That might hurt."

Valid point, actually. The kitchen really did get hot enough that Chase

ended up with what felt like salt crystals on his skin after a full shift. It had
something to do with working in temperatures that eclipsed a hundred and
twenty degrees. Kitchen staff tended to sweat a lot, but the water evaporated
from their skin and left the sweat-salt behind. That didn't change just
because one person on the hot line was referred to as Chef.

"Maybe we should both shower, then." Chase felt a little bit dirty for

suggesting it, but not enough to matter. He was remembering the last time he
and Bastian had showered together, again, and there wasn't a single chance
of hiding how much he liked the idea. He wasn't even halfway to hard yet,
but there was definitely some firming-up going on in that area.

Bastian looked like he was thinking it over, but Chase could see an

answering swelling starting at Bastian's groin. It had his own cock
responding even more, which Chase was sure Bastian noticed, considering
which direction Bastian's eyes were pointing.

"Maybe I should shower alone," Bastian said, though he was smirking

a little. That smirk didn't stop Chase's heart from plummeting down to
somewhere around his knees, though. Then Bastian went on. "Right at first, I
mean. You could join me in a few minutes. I think I'd like that."

Chase didn't quite understand why Bastian wanted a few minutes

alone in the shower if he was willing to share the rest of it, but Chase had
never been stupid, so he nodded. "Okay." If there was a choice between
seeing Bastian wet and sleek and possibly being allowed to touch, or
showering all by himself? Chase was absolutely taking option number one.
"I guess I'll be in there soon, then."

Bastian laughed and rolled from the bed, and Chase tracked him with

his eyes, rising up onto one elbow when Bastian moved to the opposite side
of the bed.

"Good," Bastian answered, picking up what looked like a tube of lube

from the nightstand with one hand. Then Bastian's other hand snatched at
something else and Bastian flung it at Chase. "This time, use them!"

It was an order, but Chase didn't even look at whatever it was that had

just smacked into his chest. He was too busy watching Bastian walk to the
bathroom, that toned ass swaying just enough that Chase knew it was
deliberate. "Uh-huh," he said, but fuck knew if Bastian had heard him. Then
the bathroom door closed and Chase looked down to see what was resting on
his stomach. When he saw the string of condoms, he lost the ability to
breathe for about a second.

He caught his breath almost immediately, remembering yet again

what had happened the last time he and Bastian had been in a shower
together, and he was glad for the condoms. He'd already come all over
Bastian, too damned soon, and some latex would help him last just as much
as having come once already. Besides, Chase was all about safety. He'd
forgotten -- or maybe been too young and lust-addled to think -- the one time
he'd fully been with Bastian before, but they were both older now. Older and
smarter and less ruled by their dicks, though Chase wasn't so sure that last
was true in his own case.

Smart or stupid, safe was good. That Bastian was insisting upon safety

was even better. It only made it even more clear that Bastian wasn't a fan of
stupid risks, though Chase had really known that when Bastian had first
mentioned the supply-run. The reminder wasn't strictly necessary but it was
definitely comforting.

***

Sebastian didn't feel like himself. Not like his grown-up,

twenty-seven-year-old self, anyway. He felt more like his eighteen-year-old
self as he stepped under the hot water flowing from the showerhead. He felt
like Bastian again. More to the point, he felt like the Bastian he'd been, but
with a good bit more knowledge, and that was fine. Sebastian actually
wanted to be Bastian again, without all the worries that he hadn't even
known had plagued him when he'd been a kid. He would be Bastian, for
Chase anyway, for as long as it lasted. For one night or until Sebastian had
to leave Hartford, he would be Bastian.

He wasn't sure about when he'd decided that he wanted to replay the

last time he and Chase had been together, but it had clearly happened. There
was no other reason that he would have tossed the condoms at Chase and
headed for the shower with lube. Maybe he just wanted to relive the best and
most traumatic sexual experience of his life without the trauma or
something; he couldn't be sure. Whatever it was, though, he wanted it.
Wanted Chase behind him, so desperate that they couldn't wait to get to the
bed. He wanted to feel Chase pushing into him with an undisguised need.

He wanted to be stretched and ready, his body yearning for the thick

plug of flesh he knew Chase's cock was, and that meant preparing himself.

Bastian had never been shy about doing that, not even in the

beginning. He hadn't wanted an audience, granted, but there were worse
things, some of which he had personal experience with. Right then, though,
in his own room's shower, with the knowledge that Chase would be joining
him? Oh, Bastian was for damned sure going to put on a show. The hotter
Chase got, the better, and they had all night. Maybe more, though that was
up to Chase.

The lube, water-based as it was, kept washing away, but that was fine

for the moment. Bastian was good with sliding one finger in and out of his
own body with just the lingering bits of slickness and the water itself to ease
the way. He waited until he heard the door open to lean out of the direct path
of the shower and slick up two fingers.

"Oh, yeah," he moaned, playing it up a bit as he pushed them into his

own hole. "Empty. So empty." It didn't take more than a few rotations of his
wrist before his words were true.

He did feel empty, but not because he was used to being full. Bastian

only rarely spread himself for anyone. It was knowing Chase was there that
had Bastian wanting to be filled. If he'd been Sebastian right then, he might
have fought the impulse to be reamed, but he wasn't Sebastian. He'd let go of
the dutiful son and business-minded man. He was just Bastian for the first
time in far too long, and that was enough for Bastian to pull his own hand
away and add still more slick before delving deep with a third finger, in
addition to the first two.

"I'm tired of waiting," he moaned to Chase, because he knew Chase

was there. It was only when Chase groaned loudly that Bastian remembered.
That was exactly what he'd said in Hawaii, or if not exactly, it was close
enough. Still, they weren't in Hawaii, and Bastian didn't want to let Chase
think what they were doing was the same. It wasn't, though Bastian wasn't
sure about how it was different. It just felt different.

"I'm tired of waiting," Bastian said again, looking over his shoulder

and meeting Chase's hot brown eyes. "If you don't get your ass in here and
shove your cock up my ass in the next five seconds, I'm going to drag you in
and fuck you instead." He didn't even get to say and I mean it before Chase
was there behind him, closing the shower curtain and pulling Bastian's
fingers away before replacing them with the bulbous, latex-covered tip of
Chase's cock.

It went in slowly, Chase's hips making the progression an exercise in

teasing Bastian's hole open rather than any sort of intrusion. Bastian still let
loose a soft cry when his opening closed around the ridge of Chase's tip, and
he still moaned, loud and long, when Chase's body shored up against his
own, Chase fully encased within him while Chase's balls pressed against
Bastian's skin.

It was the best Bastian had felt in ages.

***

"Shit," Chase exhaled the word on a sigh as he lazed on Bastian's bed,

Bastian right beside him. The bed was still made, sort of, though the spread
was rumpled and wrinkled from the two of them rolling around. Chase was
sure there were a few spots that housekeeping would know better than to
mention, but fuck it. They hadn't quite managed to get into the bed yet, not
even after they'd emerged from the shower, both of them sated and limp

enough that they'd barely made it back to the bed at all.

Bastian grunted softly and rolled onto his side. Chase could see those

bright blue eyes even though the lamp was behind Bastian. "In what way
does any of this deserve a 'shit'?" Bastian asked with a yawn. "I thought it
was pretty damned good, myself."

God, he'd never even thought of how that might sound, Chase

realized. "It wasn't a bad 'shit,' Bastian," he tried to explain. "It was more of
a 'shit, that was fucking amazing' than anything else." It really had been.
Chase honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so fucking in synch
with someone. Hell, the sex had been awesome. Chase had come so hard,
he'd been literally cross-eyed for close to a minute afterward. It wasn't just
the coming that had him feeling so good, though. Chase suspected it was
coming with Bastian. Even their short-lived rutting session before the
shower had been incredible for Chase. Incredible enough that he was all of a
sudden thinking about the realities of the situation. Like, Bastian was only
visiting Hartford. Bastian was there on business. Bastian would be leaving,
sooner or later. None of that felt good or right, damn it.

Bastian chuckled and Chase watched as the man shifted an arm, rising

up with his head propped on one palm. "It really was, wasn't it? Much better
than the last time, and that's saying a lot." Bastian made a face. "I guess it
would have to be, what with the complete lack of me screaming at you."

"Hah! You screamed plenty tonight," Chase retorted. "If I'm

remembering right -- and I am -- there was a whole lot of screaming. Mostly
'yes, Chase, right there' and 'harder, Chase, fuck me like you mean it'... or am
I wrong?" He waggled his brows playfully and Bastian laughed more. God,
Chase loved Bastian's laugh. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, for
fuck's sake.

"You were acting like I would break if you treated me like a man,"

Bastian answered easily, his free hand lifting to rest on Chase's stomach.
Chase felt that touch in his balls just as much as his navel. "I figured it was
in my best interests to remind you that I'm not fragile. And be fair. Once you
let go, we both had a really good time."

Chase arched just a little, pressing his stomach up into Bastian's touch.

"Can't deny that. Uh, how long are you in town for? I mean, if you want to
do this again, I wouldn't mind." Bastian's hand stilled, pushing him harder

onto the bed. "Okay. Shit. That sounded weird, right? I just meant..." Chase
didn't know how to say what he meant without sounding like an idiot. Even
so, he'd started to speak, and there was no way he'd seem less stupid if he
didn't at least finish what he was saying, no matter how needy he might end
up sounding.

"I'd like to see you while you're here." That wasn't so hard, really, so

Chase continued. "I'd actually like to see you more than that, but I know you
have a job to do and stuff, so if all I can have is you while you're in town,
I'm willing to accept that, but I do want to see you. Uh, if you're cool with it,
I mean. I just feel like maybe we're not as 'over' as it seemed like when we
split up before, and I kind of... No, not kind of. I really want to see whether
we're more than we thought because I feel like maybe we are."

Bastian's eyes had gone hooded during Chase's speech. He'd seen it

happening, but once Chase had decided to speak, he hadn't been able to stop.
It wasn't the first time he'd put his heart on the line, and he hadn't even done
that completely, but it was the first time Chase felt like it truly mattered. He
wanted Bastian for as long as he could have the man, and if that was a week
or even just another day, Chase would take it. Being with Bastian again had
cleared up more than a few things for him, not the least of which was that he
missed Bastian, had missed him for eight fucking years without even
knowing it.

Chase knew better than to expect Bastian to feel the same way. He

could only hope that Bastian might choose to spend whatever time he had
left in Hartford with a constant sure thing, as opposed to numerous hook-ups
from one or more of the gay bars in town.

Bastian's eyelids were still more than halfway lowered, but Chase

could feel that narrowed gaze on him just as much as he felt Bastian's
motionless hand on his abdomen. It was a little bit strange to see Bastian so
still. The guy had been constantly moving, except while sleeping, not just
eight years earlier, but since they'd met again. Chase wasn't sure whether
that stillness was good or bad, but it worried him even while he hoped it was
a good sign.

"I'm here for another week or so," Bastian finally said after twenty or

so seconds that felt like a lifetime to Chase. "I don't know exactly. I have a
meeting with Peter Jamison tomorrow afternoon. If it goes well, I might be
here for longer." Bastian's eyes finally opened fully again and Chase took a

tiny, hitched breath at what he thought he saw there. "I'd really like it if we
could see each other until I leave, too. If you've forgiven me for running off
like I did, I mean. I still feel more than a little bit guilty over that."

Bastian swallowed hard enough that Chase actually heard it, but he

didn't have any idea about what Bastian meant. Running off? Bastian hadn't
run off... aside from running from Chase's hotel room when they'd both been
young and crazy and stupid, and Chase thought they'd already addressed
that. Unless Bastian meant disappearing after that, which they'd also talked
about already, but maybe Chase hadn't been clear enough that he had no
blame to cast?

It was possible, he supposed. His brain hadn't been working all that

well since running into Bastian again. Chase blamed the fact that most of his
blood had been in his cock. At the moment he was sated, though, and
Bastian didn't have anything to feel guilty about by Chase's reckoning.

"Hell, Bastian," he said, the thoughts taking less than a second, "I

never blamed you for anything. I always figured it was my fault, right up
until we talked in the bar that first night you were in the restaurant. I fucked
up, then your family needed you. Our timing was just screwed, if we need to
play the blame game. Shit happened, but that was then."

Chase smiled and propped himself up on an elbow, facing Bastian and

matching his pose, even though it lost him the sensation of Bastian's warm
hand on his belly. "Right now," Chase went on, "I still really like you, and I
like being with you. We don't even have to be naked for me to like being
with you, though nudity is definitely a bonus." He grinned. "So are you cool
with seeing just me while you're in town? Anything else can wait. I just want
to focus on you while I have you and not think too much about the future."

He chose to take finding himself on his back with Bastian on top of

him and Bastian's mouth pressed tight to his own as a positive reaction, and
that was all Chase could have hoped for until close to an hour later when
Chase learned that yes, Bastian still wanted him, and even better? Bastian
was just as happy to switch-hit as Chase was himself.

It was a very good night. The first of many, Chase was sure. He had a

feeling that many wouldn't be anywhere close to enough, but he would
worry about that later.

***

Sebastian had stretched things out as long as he could, somehow

turning a-week-or-so into two full weeks. He had a feeling that Peter
Jamison had figured that much out because the man had been gracious
enough to reschedule a few meetings, suggesting that Sebastian might want
to spend that time out and about in Hartford. Peter never asked what
Sebastian had seen, though, which left Sebastian with the impression that the
man already knew, or at least suspected, that Sebastian hadn't seen much at
all aside from his own hotel room and Chase. Lots and lots of Chase.

Unfortunately, Sebastian's second in command, Tom Forrest, had

been working day and night during Sebastian's business trip and was
sounding more than a little frayed around the edges whenever Sebastian
spoke to him. The discussions with Peter Jamison were finished, too.
Sebastian and Peter had managed to come to an agreement of sorts, though
nothing was cast in stone yet. It was still better than Sebastian had managed
to accomplish with anyone else he'd pitched to, and if things worked out,
Peter Jamison would be talking to Wallace Durmont the Third, current
owner of the Hotel Durmont, all of which meant only one thing.

Sebastian's business in Hartford was finished for the moment. He

would need to visit frequently, both for his project and to widen the
distribution network for his family's farm, but he didn't have any more
excuses to stay. No excuses meant no way of seeing Chase regularly, damn
it, and that was the part Sebastian really hated. If he hadn't run into Chase
again, if they hadn't connected? Well, as much as Sebastian thought Hartford
was a nice city, he would be thrilled to be returning to Boston. As it was, the
thought of leaving Chase had Sebastian's stomach roiling, feeling sour and
queasy, but staying was out of the question. Leaving still felt wrong, though.
Worse than wrong, it felt like it should be unthinkable.

He pasted a smile on his face when he heard the sound of his door

unlocking. It seemed so loud against the still silence of his room that
Sebastian was amazed it didn't echo. Then his smile became a bit more real
as he heard the door open and Chase's voice calling "Hi, honey, I'm home!"
If only, Sebastian thought. If only.

Chase emerged from the small hallway, the sound of the hotel room

door closing almost vanishing beneath his words. "Randy finally asked
Brenda out this afternoon. She told him she'd think about it." Chase's eyes

rolled and Sebastian laughed a little as Chase flopped down on the small
couch, his head resting in Sebastian's lap, eyes smiling up at him. Chase's
legs were hanging over the arm of the sofa, nearly knocking the lamp from
the end table there. "I give it one day and she'll be saying yes. It'll probably
be a date that involves Jimmy, though. Brenda's going to want to know her
son likes whoever she's seeing."

"Good. I'm happy for her. And him, I guess. All of them." Sebastian

really was. He'd only met the big pastry chef a couple times, but the man
seemed like a decent sort, and Brenda had made a point of getting to know
Sebastian as much as she could in the limited time Sebastian had been in
town. He truly liked Brenda, and if Randy was as much of a gentleman as he
seemed, Sebastian figured Brenda could do much worse. Nice guy, with a
job, who liked her, and -- according to Chase -- wanted to know her son,
too? Yeah, there were worse things. "I hope it all works out."

Chase moved then, quickly enough that Sebastian couldn't stop him. It

seemed like a flash, a moment, and Chase was upright on the couch, his legs
no longer endangering the lamp. Chase had one arm resting on the back of
the small couch, while his other hand was on Sebastian's cheek, turning
Sebastian to face him. Chase's eyes weren't bright and happy anymore, and
Sebastian felt like an asshole for draining that pleasure with his attitude.

Something must have shown in his own face, Sebastian figured,

because Chase's expression went from confused and worried to sad in just a
few silent seconds. "Oh," Chase said. Just that. Just oh. There was such a
sense of knowledge in that one word that Sebastian found himself nodding.

"Yeah," he breathed, as though lack of volume could somehow

change the truth. "Yeah, 'oh.' Shit, Chase, I wish things were different, but
they're not, and it's time. I've put it off longer than I really should have."
Sebastian closed his eyes, trying to forget the sad and lost look on Chase's
face, but he couldn't. He couldn't make himself replace it with the happy,
glowing expression he'd become so used to. So used to again, really. "I leave
tomorrow. Tom's running on fumes. The last thing I need is to have him in
the hospital from exhaustion."

"It's always about work for you, isn't it?" The question should have

sounded angry, Sebastian thought, or at least accusatory. Instead, Chase only
sounded concerned. That was enough to have Sebastian opening his eyes
again. "When do you get to do something for you, Bastian? When do you get

to have a real life and time off? Not this ridiculous business-trip-as-vacation,
but real time off?"

Oh, God. Sebastian hadn't let himself even think about anything like

that in years. He couldn't think about it. If he did, he might start to cry, as
girly as that seemed. Even so, he couldn't quite bring himself to lie to Chase.
He could lie so easily to his parents, to Tom, even to Marisol, but lying to
Chase? He couldn't do it. Not convincingly, anyway. He was sure of that
much. Since he was so certain, he didn't even try. He just shifted a bit closer,
licked his lips, and tried to smile.

"This two weeks," Sebastian muttered, still staring into Chase's warm

brown eyes. "This is the closest to 'time off' that I've had in years. Just being
here. With you. Being Bastian again." He did his best to smile while Chase's
expression went from sorrowful to angry. "Before you say it, it's not my
family's fault. I'm the one who insisted on trying to branch out with the fruit
extracts. My parents still aren't thrilled with the idea, even though they're
supporting my efforts, okay? They'd be much happier if I gave it up and just
went with 'the flow,' you know?"

Chase was looking stubborn, but Sebastian bullied on. "The new

division is my thing, because I don't want to be just another Cole. I want to
contribute something and have something that's entirely my own to add to
the family business. I told you that before, remember?"

"Was I post-coital at the time?" Chase demanded, "Because if I was, I

probably wasn't paying a whole lot of attention. God, Bastian, how do you
cope? I mean, I pretty much eat, sleep, and breathe the restaurant, but I do
take some time off every now and again. I need to, just to stay relatively
sane!"

Sebastian wasn't about to point out just how much he didn't believe

that. The sanity part, not the other. What sane person would actually choose
to spend between sixty and seventy hours a week behind a counter on one
side and numerous burners and ovens on the other, where the average
temperature was close to a hundred and thirty degrees?

Then again, what sane person would work so much for so many years

that two weeks away from home while still working and trying to formulate
business deals counted as a vacation?

"Hello, pot. Nice to meet you. You can call me kettle." Sebastian

didn't know he'd said it out loud until Chase laughed, but he didn't regret it.
Chase sounded less depressed and angry, all of a sudden.

"Okay," Chase said after a little while, the arm that had been on the

back of the couch sliding down until Sebastian felt it around his shoulders.
"You have a point. We're both work-obsessed and kind of crazy. We're
probably the last two guys in the world who can make a relationship work,
especially with living in two different states, but I want to, Bastian." Chase
blushed a little, and Sebastian felt himself starting to smile. "I don't want to
lose you," Chase added. "Not when I've just found you again. Maybe it's just
me. I mean, maybe I was just never over you and didn't realize it until you
showed up in my restaurant, but even if that's true, can we at least try?"

It took a good ten seconds for Sebastian to find his voice and by the

time he did, Chase was starting to look embarrassed, which made it all the
more imperative that he speak before Chase tried to take it back. Sebastian
couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't.

"Did you know it's only a two hour drive from here to Boston?" he

asked, instead of trying to say all the things he was feeling. "It is," Sebastian
elaborated, his gaze still holding Chase's. "I suppose it might be closer to
three, when you factor in getting from your place to mine, but between
cities, it's only two hours. Two hours isn't all that long if you're planning to
stay a night or two."

Chase's lips twitched a little. "Are you saying you'd want to... what are

you saying?"

Sebastian chuckled, then leaned closer, pressing his lips to Chase's

soft mouth and lingering there until the barely-a-kiss became something
deeper. He moaned softly, enjoying the sensation even when it turned hotter
still.

Amazingly enough, he and Chase hadn't had sex on the coffee table

yet, and while the glass-topped wood wasn't the most comfortable place
Sebastian's knees had ever rested, it wasn't the least, either. His groans and
grunts and soft but sharp cries supported that fact.

Later, while he and Chase lay sprawled on the carpeted floor, Chase

pressed a light kiss to Sebastian's shoulder, his arms relaxed but still tight
around Sebastian's waist, Chase's cock soft and warm against Sebastian's
ass. "Sorry, babe," Chase whispered just behind Sebastian's ear, "I didn't

mean to... well, yeah, I did, but... what were you saying?"

"Mmm..." Sebastian uttered, less a moan than a simple rumble of

contentment. "I was suggesting that we could still see each other. We both
have busy lives, but I think we can manage to coordinate our schedules
enough to spend some time together. I just... I'm not ready to let you go,
Chase. I'm just not, and it sort of sounded like you might feel that way too,
so I thought... maybe we could at least try it and see."

"I'd like that," Chase murmured, but judging by the way Sebastian felt

Chase's prick firming up again, like wasn't a strong enough word.
Fortunately, Sebastian appreciated that. A lot.

Part Three -- Boston, Massachusetts -- Today

It was a little weird to be taking the bus from Hartford, but it had

proven to be cheaper than driving. Chase had actually been surprised to
discover that it took just about the same amount of time to get to Boston on
the bus, and when he factored in not needing to pay attention to the road as
well as no pesky parking tickets once he was at Bastian's place, it just made
more sense to take the Boston Deluxe.

It only ran on weekends, which was a little inconvenient with regards

to Chase's work schedule. There was no way he could be away from Pink
Salt on a Friday night, or even part of Saturday, but he could catch the
Sunday afternoon bus and be in Boston by six p.m., and when Wednesday
morning rolled around, Amtrak would get him home. Surprisingly, the train
took almost twice as long, partly due to changing in New Haven, but that
was fine. Bastian always dropped Chase off early, when Bastian was on his
way to work, and Chase always made it back to Hartford in time to get to the
restaurant before the dinner reservations started.

It had become habit over the year or so since Bastian had returned to

Boston, though Bastian did end up in Hartford every few weeks, still trying
to work an arrangement with Peter Jamison.

Well, that wasn't entirely fair, Chase knew. Bastian and Peter Jamison

had actually come to an agreement. They were still in the testing phases of
Peter Jamison's hair care products with Bastian's all-organic fruit extracts
added. The chemical testing hadn't been much of a problem, because of the
purity of Bastian's extracts. It was a question of whether Peter Jamison's
Hair Master clientele would like the new, more expensive products.

Bastian hadn't said so, but Chase had the feeling that there was an

awful lot of capital tied up in Bastian's little personal project. He also
suspected that the new business venture was going to take off, given enough
time. Peter Jamison's nephew Riley and Riley's boyfriend, Kelly, were
reportedly part of the test group and the last time the young men had stopped
into Pink Salt for drinks, their hair had looked incredible. Chase wasn't
taking part in the testing, largely because there was no way he could be

impartial.

The whole health-and-beauty thing Bastian was trying to branch out

into was Bastian's baby, and Bastian was Chase's baby, in an entirely
different sense, of course, so Chase was admittedly biased. Still, if his hair
could shine the way Riley's and Kelly's had done, fuck it. Chase would beg
Bastian if that was what it took.

He probably wouldn't even notice, considering how much time I

already spend begging him. 'Please' and 'now' and 'those files will still be
there in an hour, but I'm not sure my cock will be hard by then' count as
begging, right? Right.

Chase laughed quietly, flipping a page in the magazine he wasn't even

reading and Dee, a woman in her late forties who took the same bus every
Sunday, going back to Boston from visiting her daughter who was in school
in Connecticut, laughed too, from the seat beside him.

"Why do I think you're not laughing at a funny story in Restaurant

Times?" she asked, and Chase rolled his eyes. "I really have no idea why you
pretend to even read that thing," she added. "Anyone looking at you can see
you're a whole different kind of excited than could be accounted for by a
restaurant magazine. Now, if it were one of those kinky boy-on-boy mags, I
might believe it."

That was what came of his thrice-a-month bus trips. He might not see

Dee as regularly as other people in his life, but Chase couldn't deny that
they'd struck up something of a friendship ever since his fifth trip, when Dee
had sat down beside him and asked whether he was planning on regularly
taking the bus because if so, she thought they might as well be friends. It had
taken her about three minutes of questions and answers before she'd broken
Chase's clever code of visiting a friend, somehow deducing that the friend
was not only a fair bit more than that but also male. It seemed some women
were being issued gaydar at puberty and Chase just hadn't noticed.

"I was reading it," Chase said with a grin as he closed the magazine.

"Well, sort of. But you were busy going through your latest giant batch of
pictures, so I didn't want to bother you." More to the point, he hadn't wanted
to see the latest eleventy-billion pictures Dee had taken of her daughter,
Angela, and Angela's fiance. Neither Angela nor Jack changed that much in
a week, but Dee insisted on taking some ridiculous number of pictures every

weekend. If Chase didn't pretend to be reading, she wanted his opinion on
each and every shot. She probably filled at least one memory card every
time she went to Hartford.

Dee giggled and it was oddly appropriate to her, though Chase usually

found the sound utterly ridiculous on females past the age of ten. Still, it
suited Dee. "Oh, fine," she answered. "You're right. I take a crazy number of
pictures. Most of them are crap, so I delete them. I probably had a hundred
when I got on the bus, but it's down to six or seven now. And yes, I know it's
a little weird, but she's my only child and I missed so much of her life when
she was younger, so I guess I'm trying to make up for it by giving her as
much love as possible now and making as many memories as I can."

God, Chase felt like an asshole for forgetting, but he had. Dee had told

him six months earlier that her ex-husband had snatched Angela and
disappeared when the custody ruling went against him. Dee hadn't known
where her daughter was for almost fifteen years. They'd only been
reconnected by chance a few years earlier, when Angela was twenty and her
father had shot a man who was trying to rob the little store he'd found work
at.

Unfortunately for Dee's ex-husband, the robber had gotten a shot off

as well. Angela's father had bled out before the police could answer the
silent alarm. The robber had died later, in hospital, but the resulting news
reports and articles had included a photo of the hero who had so tragically
lost his life, and Dee had seen it. She'd known right away that the man was
her ex-husband, though he'd been using a different name, and it hadn't taken
much to discover that he'd had a daughter. Dee's daughter.

A few pictures, or even a few hundred, seemed entirely reasonable, all

of a sudden.

Chase reached out, one hand patting Dee's lightly where it rested on

her leg. "You're right," he agreed with a slightly shamefaced smile. "After
everything, there's nothing wrong with wanting to have a record of every
minute. You know, you should really think about moving to Hartford. I
mean, it's a nice place and all, and Angela's there, so..."

Dee smiled a little and shook her head. "Believe me, I wanted to! But

Jack's finishing his degree this semester, and Angela will complete her
Master's next year. They're planning to move to Boston when they're both

finished. They're looking for an apartment near me, too, but they don't want
me to leave my job, especially in this economy, and they're right. I might be
able to find something similar up around your way, but I wouldn't have
seniority and I'd probably lose at least some of my benefits. I still get to see
my baby girl once a week and that's more than some mothers have, so I can
wait. Especially since it's what Angela wants."

"Fair enough," Chase said, smiling. "Don't forget, I want to meet the

famous Angela and Jack, though. You keep promising to bring them in for
dinner some weekend, but you never do. I'm starting to think you're ashamed
of me." He winked, just to make it clear that he was joking, about the
ashamed part, anyway. Chase was entirely sincere about the rest. "Seriously,
you'd be doing me a favor. My best friend doesn't believe you actually exist.
I'd love to be able to prove her wrong. A lot! There might even be money on
it, but don't let that sway you."

Dee giggled again. "How is Brenda? And Randy? I swear I feel like I

know them, just from the things you've said. Is she still leading him a merry
chase? No pun intended."

Chase snorted. "He's definitely chasing, but she doesn't seem to be

running too hard. Wouldn't surprise me if she catches him before too much
longer." Dee smirked in a way that implied she not only understood but
hoped Brenda succeeded. "All I can say for sure is that Randy and his
mother went to see Brenda's son, Jimmy, perform in his school's end-of-year
talent show. You'd think the kid was the next American Idol after the way
they both carried on at the post-show celebratory dinner. Of course, Jimmy
did take the blue ribbon, so maybe he is." Chase shrugged.

He and Dee chatted about other things for the rest of the ride, and

while Chase was paying attention, he found himself getting more and more
jittery the closer they got to the bus station in Boston, anticipation building
until one knee started bouncing.

God, it was pitiful how anxious he was to see Bastian again. It had

been less than a week, but it felt like months. Not years, because Chase
remembered the eight years without Bastian very well. Better than he really
wanted to. He'd seriously thought he was fine, but just two weeks with
Bastian in Hartford had proven that he had been anything but. He'd been so
far from fine while they'd been apart that he'd been more coarse than
anything else. Even after a year of their not-so-very-long-distance

relationship, seeing each other for a couple days each week, Chase still
wasn't fine. He was far better than he had been, but it wasn't enough. That
Bastian seemed to be just dandy with their arrangement didn't help, either.

"Stop it." Dee's hand slapping down onto his knee was unexpected

enough that Chase jumped. "Just stop it. You're brooding, and right when
you're getting ready to see your young man. Whatever it is that's bothering
you, put it aside and get ready to smile. Kiss your honey, take him home,
and let him make you forget about whatever's making you crazy." She
smiled. "I may not know your Bastian all that well, but anyone can see that
he loves you, honey. That's the biggest hurdle and you've already cleared it.
Everything else will work itself out. Look. There he is!"

Chase followed the direction of Dee's pointing finger and, as usual,

something inside him loosened at the sight of Bastian standing there by the
doors to the bus terminal. Bastian looked just as jittery as Chase felt, but that
was nothing new. Chase might not have realized it before, not consciously,
but Bastian did always have that same expression, the one that looked like
Chase felt right up until Bastian was there in front of him. That look of
uncertainty and hope, as though there was some question as to whether
Chase would be there.

"Oh, yeah." Chase breathed the words, barely aware that they might

be audible. "There he is. God, he's beautiful." Beautiful and his, though
Chase still couldn't quite grasp what Bastian saw in him. He'd stopped
wondering, he'd thought, but if he was still so unsure, maybe he still
wondered. Of course, Bastian seemed just as insecure. Chase didn't quite get
that, but with Dee pointing it out by making him look, he couldn't deny what
he'd seen.

Dee patted his knee, right where she'd slapped it, and while Chase

couldn't drag his eyes away from Bastian's unguarded moment, he still heard
her when she said "He's even more beautiful when he sees you. Love does
that to a person, no matter whether they're male or female, gay or straight.
Now, I'm gonna head on home, Chase. You get yourself together and go
love your Bastian." She patted his knee again. "See you next week. Have fun
with your honey."

Chase sat there for another minute or so, still staring out the window

and watching Bastian's face as other passengers trickled out through the bus
door, seeing the smile dim ever so slightly with each exiting rider who left.

The bus had been unusually crowded for a Sunday, but Chase thought

it might have had something to do with the Adam Lambert concert that had
been held not that far from Hartford the night before. He waited until most
of the mad crush to get off the bus was finished, then stood and shuffled out
into the aisle after retrieving his backpack full of clothes from beneath his
seat. He didn't really need to bring many clothes. He'd left enough behind
over the last year that half his wardrobe was probably at Bastian's place,
along with spares for all his toiletries. He had a toothbrush, electric shaver,
brush, comb, deodorant and bottle of cologne in Bastian's bathroom. They
shared soap, shampoo, conditioner and a few other things, and Chase liked
that. He felt at home when he was with Bastian.

Of course, he felt just as at home when Bastian was with him, and

while Bastian visited Hartford less often than Chase traveled to Boston,
Chase's place still showed substantial signs that Bastian stayed there on a
regular basis. Aside from the toiletries that pretty much matched those Chase
kept in Boston, Chase's closet was equally divided between his own
black-and-pinks and some of Bastian's suits, dress shirts and ties. There were
even a couple pairs of shiny Italian leather shoes at Chase's that definitely
didn't belong to him, and that felt good, too.

He wasn't the last one off the bus, though he was damned close to it,

but just thinking about their shared spaces had Chase smiling in a way he
wasn't sure he could have managed if he'd disembarked earlier. His eyes
locked on Bastian and Chase saw, for the first time, the exact moment when
worry became relief and happiness and love.

He'd never watched Bastian that way before, usually focusing on the

steps down to the pavement, but this time Chase was watching. Hell, he
couldn't drag his eyes away. He didn't even care when he stumbled from the
last step, he was that caught up in what he was seeing.

Chase figured he could have stood there and stared for hours, but he

was reminded almost violently that there were people still trying to get off
the bus when someone behind him rushed past, nearly knocking Chase over
in the process.

"Sorry," the guy called over his shoulder and Chase answered with an

automatic, "No problem," as he forced himself to move, not that he went far.

He walked about twenty feet and it felt like less and more. Then he

dropped his backpack beside Bastian and stared into those
azure-through-sapphire eyes before wrapping his arms around Bastian and
fitting himself close, like they were puzzle pieces that just needed to meet to
meld.

Bastian released some sort of sigh. It sounded contented and Bastian's

arms wrapped around Chase in return, so Chase couldn't manage to worry
about it. It felt good and real and true, to be holding Bastian that way. To be
held by Bastian that way, right there in the exhaust-laden debarkation area of
the bus station. Chase didn't care if he passed out from the fumes. It would
be worth it, even if he hadn't known as much even half an hour earlier.

"I missed you," Bastian murmured against his ear, and Chase felt

something like a hiccup start in his own chest. Then it rose, filling his throat,
and the next thing Chase knew, he was laughing. Holding on to Bastian and
laughing harder than he'd done in weeks.

"Oh, God," Chase managed to gasp between stuttering chortles, "you

have no idea, babe. I've missed you so fucking much. I want to..." Fuck, he
wanted to everything, even things he and Bastian hadn't talked about. He
wanted to do things they'd done repeatedly, too, but not in the arrivals lot of
the bus station, for fuck's sake, and that thought sobered Chase from his
emotional high better than anything else could have. He pulled back a little
to meet Bastian's eyes.

"Can we go now?" he asked, instead of finishing his sentence.

"Seriously, Bastian, I need us to be someplace private. I need. Fuck it, I need
you, okay? As soon as humanly possible."

Bastian blinked but nodded and released Chase, and Chase bent to

grab his bag, moaning softly when he saw the undeniable arousal bulging in
Bastian's jeans. He straightened and swallowed roughly. "I need you," Chase
said again.

"Pretty sure the men's room here has stalls," Bastian muttered and

Chase found himself actually considering it for a second before shaking his
head.

"Home and bed," Chase said bluntly. "Once I get you even partially

naked, I'm not going to stop. Let's go. Now, Bastian."

Bastian shivered a little, but Chase was sure it was a good sort of

shiver. Then Bastian stepped back and grabbed hold of Chase's free hand. "I
have a feeling I need to call Tom to tell him I won't be in tomorrow,"
Bastian said as he pulled Chase into the bus terminal and made a beeline for
the opposite door. "Not that he'll mind, since it'll mean he can have next
Saturday off."

Chase squeezed Bastian's hand tightly as they exited the terminal and

strode swiftly toward Bastian's car. "Give me your cell," he ordered while
Bastian unlocked the doors. "I'll call. You just pay attention to getting us
there in one piece."

God, there was something so flattering about the speed with which

Bastian got settled behind the driver's wheel and made sure Chase was
buckled in. Something so endearing about Bastian's left leg bouncing up and
down impatiently at every red light and stop sign.

Thank God for automatic transmissions. If there were a clutch to

worry about, we'd already be in trouble.

Chase laughed when the tires squealed as Bastian took the final turn

onto Bastian's street. He laughed again when Bastian took another,
unexpected turn. "Where are we going?"

Bastian turned yet again, pulling the Toyota into a spot behind what

Chase knew was Bastian's place. "The guy who used to live below me
moved out last week. It was sudden, but I found out first, so I rented his old
parking space. Inside, Chase. Please, inside!"

Chase wasn't sure of whether that meant Bastian wanted to be in the

apartment or in him, but either one worked for him. Fuck, both worked for
him. He lost no speed in unfastening his seat belt and grabbing his backpack,
even while opening the passenger-side door and climbing from the car.

"Inside is good," he announced, moving swiftly around to Bastian's

car door. "Inside is great! Missed you. Too much. Need you, Bastian."

Bastian nodded as he joined Chase beside the car, and Chase was glad

to see that Bastian was in just as much of a hurry as he was, because Bastian
started to leave the driver's side door open, then turned back to close it. He
hit a button on his key ring and Chase heard the car beep, saw the lights
flash once. Then Bastian had his hand again, and Chase didn't bother trying
to resist as Bastian pulled him to the back door that apparently led inside.

Why would he resist when Bastian was taking Chase exactly where he

wanted to be?

***

"Oh... yeah. Just like that, Bastian." Chase sounded like a slut, and he

didn't care. Fuck it, he was a slut, at least when Bastian was involved. There
was just something about seeing those bright blue eyes looking at him,
something about Bastian's hands and mouth. Something about all of Bastian,
really, that had Chase wanting to give himself over to whatever Bastian
wanted from him. Whether that was fucking Chase or being fucked by Chase
didn't matter. It was Bastian, and Chase didn't have it in him to deny the man
anything.

He considered himself lucky that the things Bastian wanted were well

within his own comfort zone, but Chase had a sneaking suspicion that he
would have taken it even if Bastian had wanted to put him in a collar and
leash and parade him up and down the street, naked. Fuck, it was more than
a suspicion. Chase would absolutely do that if Bastian wanted him to, as
long as Bastian didn't expect him to let anyone else touch him.

The idea was actually kind of hot, though it wasn't anything Chase

would ever suggest. It was one of those things that made for a good fantasy
but would be bad if it ever became real. Still, Chase could picture it, picture
Bastian snarling at anyone who tried to get too close, Bastian staking his
claim for all to see.

He groaned, doing his best to arch into the tight heat of Bastian's

mouth, but it wasn't easy when his legs were up nearly to his shoulders,
though spread wide. The spread wide part only made it more difficult, but
fuck if Chase was going to complain. That distance between his thighs was
the reason Bastian's mouth could be on his cock while long, capable fingers
delved deep inside his body, loosening his hole for Bastian's dick.

Bastian's two fingers stroked Chase inside, pushing against his

prostate just as Bastian's mouth sucked up to the head of Chase's prick and
Chase gasped. "Stop. Stop, babe. Too close!"

He felt Bastian's chuckle as a vibration and Chase had all he could do,

just holding back. "Bastian, please," he moaned. "Want to come with you in

me."

"Mmm... your wish, my command," Bastian answered after pulling

his mouth from around Chase's tip, something Chase thanked God for. He
was a fan of oral sex -- of course he was; Chase wasn't stupid -- but that
wasn't how he wanted to get off after a week without Bastian. "Need more
lube," Bastian said next, and Chase didn't know how he managed to sound
so calm when even the look in Bastian's eyes was screaming desperation.

It took a second, maybe two, for Chase's groping hand to find the

small tub of Vaseline on the nightstand, but he for damned sure found it. The
cap was probably somewhere on Bastian's floor, but they could find it later.
That was way down around number three hundred on Chase's list of things
to do.

"Here," he said, shoving the container toward Bastian when Bastian's

fingers pulled out and Chase found his legs being lowered just a bit. "Get
slick and get the fuck in me, babe."

They'd stopped using condoms maybe six months into their oddly

functional mid-distance romance, and Vaseline didn't have the evaporation
problem that latex-safe lubes did. They'd both been tested, for the hell of it
since neither of them had been unsafe since their first time together, but
better to be sure. When their tests had been negative for everything, even
things that could be cured with antibiotics, they'd made a conscious and
mutual decision to take that so-serious step, and Chase hadn't regretted it yet.
He thought he never would. Bastian was it for him, and while Bastian had
never said so out loud, Chase was fairly sure he was it for Bastian, too.

"Stop it," Bastian groaned, his eyes closing tightly for a brief second

or two before opening again, brighter and hotter and wilder than before.
Bastian's fingers dipped into the rectangular tub and Chase tossed it aside
while Bastian coated himself. "I want this to last, damn it."

Chase wanted that, too, but the moment Bastian pushed his legs up

again and Chase felt just the tip of Bastian's cock pushing against him, then
slipping in on the viscous gel, he lost it. "Oh, fuck." Chase barely managed
to whisper the words. "C-coming, Bastian. Coming!" He was, too. He was
fucking coming, right then and there, just from the sensation of Bastian's
cock pushing into him. He wasn't even touching his own prick and Bastian's
hands were on the backs of Chase's knees, and Chase was fucking coming.

His fingers dropped to the sheets under him and curled into the cotton as the
first surge of pleasure took him.

"God. Yes. Come for me, Chase," Bastian demanded, and for a

moment Chase thought Bastian was encouraging him because Bastian might
be coming, too. But Bastian was still pushing into him, spearing his
convulsing hole, and Chase didn't feel hot jism filling his ass. Bastian did
groan and Chase knew he was going to have bruises on his legs from the
way Bastian's fingers were clenching, but that was so far from a problem,
Chase could have been on Jupiter while the problem was in the heart of the
sun.

"Don't. Stop." Yeah, that was his own voice, strained and insistent and

thready, but Bastian didn't seem to care that he was commanding more so
Chase wasn't going to worry about it. Less than worrying, he was going to
ask for more. "Do it, Bastian, fuck me to hard again! Make me come one
more time, babe, I know you can do it!"

"I'll get you so hard again, you'll forget you ever came," Bastian

groaned, those eyes staring so deep into his own that Chase believed him,
despite a niggling doubt. Still...

God, if Bastian really could, Chase was going to die. He would go out

with a smile on his face and it would be worth it. Then Bastian shoved deep
and Chase felt Bastian's balls slap against his ass, and maybe he wouldn't die
after all because Chase for damned sure didn't seem to be getting any softer.

His hands left the sheets and fastened instead on the tops of Bastian's

shoulders, and Chase held on for the ride, his body reveling in the sensations
even as his mind despaired of being able to retain reason. Maybe he didn't
need reason, though. Fuck if Chase wanted reason for anything at all, other
than accepting Bastian's hardness into himself so completely, and that had
nothing to do with reason in the literal sense.

Figurative reason understood that the way Bastian was battering him,

filling him so well and wantonly, had everything to do with the one thing
they hadn't said yet. Chase didn't even know whether Bastian felt it, too, but
as seemed to be his habit, he suspected. Was there really any other reason
that Bastian would have suggested they get rid of the latex? After what had
happened their first time, no part of Chase believed so.

"Bastian," he groaned quietly, most of his attention taken by the swift

slip-and-slide of Bastian's cock into his willing body. "Bastian," Chase
moaned again, then he yelped as Bastian shifted, pushing Chase's legs just
enough higher that bliss was right there for the taking.

His cock was more than half hard. Closer to three-quarters and

possibly more, but that didn't have anything to do with what Chase tried to
say next. He was sure of it because what he felt right then, while intense and
highly sexual, wasn't that different from what Chase had felt on the bus,
knowing every minute of road was getting him closer to Bastian. It did,
however, rob him of speech because there was no way the incomprehensible
gasps and moans leaving Chase's lips for the next few minutes counted as
words.

Bastian's movements sped up just as quickly as Chase had lost the

ability to speak, and when Bastian started releasing loud, rhythmic grunts in
time with the pistoning slams of his hips, driving his prick into Chase's ass
and pegging that small spot? Oh, Chase was hard again, just as he'd asked.
He was also less than a minute away from shooting his wad for the second
time, which was both beautiful and slightly pathetic, though Chase wasn't
thinking about that right then. He was too absorbed in the way Bastian was
fucking him, or possibly making love to him with attitude. Either way, it was
amazing, and when Bastian's hips shifted to a stuttering, helpless lack of
rhythm, Chase was right there with him.

When Bastian came, a few shaky thrusts later, a softly gasped

"Chase!" leaving his lips, Chase finally realized that was what he'd been
waiting for.

His own body arched and bowed, trying to meld itself with Bastian's,

and while Chase's second bout of spending was less copious than the first, it
felt even more intense. Intense enough that Chase couldn't hold back the
words that had wanted to break free ever since he and Bastian had been in
that hotel room in Hartford.

"God, I love you," Chase moaned, hoping and fearing that Bastian

would hear him.

Bastian had already been still, his cock buried deep inside Chase, but

a different kind of stillness seemed to take him over and Chase knew Bastian
had heard. He fought the urge to wrap himself around the man, since Bastian
had released Chase's legs during what had clearly been an overwhelming

orgasm.

Chase lost that fight, mostly because he hadn't wanted to win it, and

fastened his legs around Bastian's waist. His hands left Bastian's shoulders,
arms snaking around his lover's ribs while Bastian stayed frozen for another
moment before starting to shake.

"I... are you sure? You love me? Are you sure?" Bastian's voice was

less than a whisper, and Chase didn't have a single clue about how he'd
heard it. Maybe as vibrations on his skin, but that didn't seem likely. Chase
might have certain illusions about himself, but he'd never even imagined
himself to be a superhero. Hearing Bastian's words should have required
superhero-esque abilities.

Chase smiled at the confusion in Bastian's voice, then eased his hold

on the man just enough to be able to look into Bastian's shuttered blue eyes.

"I'm sure that in all my life, I've only loved one person who's

mattered, aside from my family," Chase said simply. "He's a workaholic, just
like me, and he's probably far too good for me. He's smarter than me, and
much funnier than I'll ever be, and my best friend loves him, too." He
grinned. "Okay, so he lives a couple hours away, but he makes me feel like I
could do anything at all. And if it really comes down to it, it's amazing that
we manage to spend so much time together, even living in different states. I
know other couples who barely even see each other but manage to be very
together and more than happy. Like Gus and Reynard."

The reminder of Chase's bar manager and said manager's boyfriend

seemed to calm Bastian a bit, so Chase pressed the advantage. Maybe it
wasn't fair, but fuck it. Chase knew what he wanted and he believed Bastian
wanted the same thing, so why not?

Chase made an extreme effort and rolled himself and Bastian, a small,

disappointed sound leaving him when the shift had Bastian's softening prick
slipping out of his body. It would be worth losing that connection, he hoped,
but he couldn't waste time thinking on it.

"I love you," Chase said bluntly. "This time I'm saying it without the

sex and without worrying about what you'll think. I've wanted to say it for a
long time, babe. I love you. No, fuck that. I'm in love with you. I have all
these fantasies about us buying a house somewhere and being together until
we're old and gray. And I know that's weird, but it's what I think about when

we're not together. Fuck, I dream about it."

Bastian looked a little bit sad when Chase finished talking, but that

was okay. Right up until Bastian spoke, it was okay.

"We both have jobs," Bastian said, and he sounded so determined that

Chase was floored for a moment or twelve. "How can we be together and
have a house when we're so busy? It just wouldn't work. I. I'm sorry. Fuck,
you don't know how sorry I am." Bastian's eyes closed and Chase watched
as the man swallowed roughly. "I love you, too, but it's just not... feasible."

Oh, for fuck's sake! Feasible? Like Chase was about to let something

as ridiculous as feasibility keep him from being with Bastian! Didn't Bastian
know him at all?

Chase rolled his eyes, even while holding as much of Bastian's gaze as

he could. "How can we feel this way and not be together?" He sounded blunt
and angry, but fuck it. Bastian was swiftly destroying Chase's patience. "We
can find a place between here and Hartford. I can pimp myself out to a
restaurant here in Boston that could use someone with my skills, if being in
town is that important." God knew Chase could do exactly that with very
little difficulty, even with the economy the way it was. Fuck if he was going
to let Bastian's stupid feasibility ruin his best, brightest chance at being
completely happy. It wasn't just his own chance, anyway. It was Bastian's, as
well.

"Whatever it takes, Bastian," Chase said, lowering his head until he

and Bastian had their foreheads resting together, eyes less than an inch apart.
"I get that there's something going on here that has you wanting to back off,
but I won't let you do it. I know you love me, babe. You never said it until a
minute ago, but I could see it in your eyes even before you told me. It's
fucking stupid that it took Dee to point it out, but she did, and I'll never
believe you if change your tune and tell me you don't, so... what's wrong?
Tell me and we'll fix it." They would, too. Chase meant that, all of it. There
was nothing Bastian could say that would make him change his mind.

"I need to have a kid in the next couple years," Bastian announced

bluntly, almost gleefully, like he was looking forward to Chase leaving. "Not
an adopted kid, either. A DNA-proven child of my loins. You see, Chase? I
can't be your man and live with you. I can't do it. I made a promise and I
have to live up to it. I... I'm sorry."

Bastian at least had the grace to look ashamed, and he should, as far as

Chase was concerned. Chase had never planned on having kids. Some part
of him had simply assumed it wasn't in the cards, once he'd discovered his
own orientation. He wasn't opposed to the idea or anything. He'd just never
really given it a lot of thought. Now that Bastian had mentioned it, Chase
had an ass-load of questions, though, the first of which was, "Promised
who?"

Bastian seemed confused for a good few seconds, which was fair

enough. Chase used that time to figure out how he really felt about the idea.
Then he thought about how it might be to share a house with Bastian and
Bastian's son or daughter, and he was surprised by how little the notion
disturbed him. If he really thought about it, the idea of a tiny version of
Bastian, even though it would be half someone else's genes, was pretty cool.

It would be difficult at first. Chase was sure of that much. He'd heard

all sorts of horror stories from Brenda about colic and unexpected food
allergies and slimy green poop. But she'd also told him about first smiles that
weren't from gas, first laughs, first steps, and first... all sorts of other things.
Potty training was likely to be a bitch and a half, but there were worse
things. Like losing Bastian just because of a child Chase was suddenly sure
he could love. How stupid would he have to be to let that happen?

"Promised who?" Chase asked again and Bastian sighed, pushing

Chase away until Chase found himself beside Bastian, rather than above
him, while Bastian stared at the ceiling. "Bastian?"

"My parents," Bastian finally said, and Chase started to get angry on

Bastian's behalf, because how dare Bastian's folks make that sort of demand?
With a time-table, no less! Then Bastian went on and Chase thought maybe
he understood.

"I'm an only child," Bastian said softly, "but I wasn't always. I had an

older sister who died when I was three." Oh, that sucked. "She was five at
the time, and it wasn't her fault, but my folks had this nanny for us -- they
were still building up the business and they couldn't be home all the time."
Bastian frowned and seemed to draw into himself in some non-physical
sense that Chase could neither explain nor deny. It already sounded like a
fucked-up story. Chase would be damned if he wasn't going to offer Bastian
whatever comfort he could, but right then it seemed all Bastian would accept
was Chase's hand barely brushing those long fingers.

"The nanny wasn't bad," Bastian continued, and Chase hoped the

words came easily because of his hand on Bastian's, but he couldn't be sure.
"She'd looked after us for more than a year by then. I was only three so I
don't remember it, but for some reason she left me and Ashley out by the
pool. It was only for a few minutes, but I guess I fell in."

God, it already sounded horrifying. Enough so that Chase ignored

every stay-away-vibe Bastian was giving off and rose onto his side, one arm
resting over Bastian's stomach. "And?" Chase asked. He already knew it
hadn't gone well, but Bastian seemed to need the question, as well as the
touch.

"I fell in," Bastian said, sounding stoic. "I was afraid of water back

then, I guess, because I must have panicked. Ashley must have jumped in to
save me. Like I said, I don't remember it. All I know is that when the nanny
came outside again, I was screaming at the edge of the pool, sitting on one of
the steps in the shallow end, and Ashley... wasn't. So I'm the last hope for a
Cole to inherit Cole Valley Farms, and after my dad's heart attack, I
promised. I swore I would make sure the family went on. A direct line, as far
as I can manage."

Fuck, that was... Chase didn't know what. It was a lot of pressure to

put on someone, granted, but in a sense he could understand where Bastian's
parents were coming from, especially with losing their first child to such a
horrible accident. By the same token, he couldn't quite manage to grasp how
loving parents could or would demand such a thing from the one child they
still had, whether that child was straight or gay. It wasn't anything like
Chase's situation with his own parents.

Chase's dad and Mohammed might have mentioned wanting

grandkids a time or two, but they wanted Chase to be happy and secure
before that happened and they were definitely patient, or had become so
once Chase had mentioned that he'd run into Bastian again. Chase's mother,
on the other hand, was fighting her age with tooth and nail, and Chase had
gotten the impression that she would be more than happy to remain a parent
rather than grandparent for as long as possible. Chase suspected that might
be because of the twenty-eight-year-old young woman his mom was seeing,
but whatever. If he and Bastian ended up making things work, Chase figured
she would just have to deal, or else she could spend the holidays alone.

It was only when Chase finished thinking about how his family would

react that he truly realized kids were something he was interested in having,
or even just one kid. He wouldn't want kids if he were on his own, but
Bastian was offering him what he'd never known he wanted. It was
wonderful. Beautiful. Sudden, but no less real for all that.

"Why does that have to be a problem?" Chase asked carefully, his lips

close to Bastian's ear. "If we had a house, why couldn't your child live with
us and be our child, when the time comes? I mean, I love you. How could I
not love your child, too?"

There was a lot of hemming and hawing after that, but Chase

somehow knew it for what it was. Bastian, trying to push him away. The
more Chase heard, the more convinced he was that he'd made the right
decision, though. He wasn't anywhere near willing to back down. He loved
Bastian, and anything that made Bastian happy was good enough for him.
Bastian might not know it yet, but there was a gleam in his eyes whenever
he mentioned the currently-hypothetical child that told Chase... Bastian
would be happy when he had some sort of progeny, be it male or female.

"Do you have a mother picked out?" Chase asked, after the drama was

finished and Bastian was resting more or less comfortably against him. "Or,
I guess... do your parents have one in mind?" Because Chase was thinking
something he probably shouldn't be, but it was worth a thought or two. In so
many ways.

"I still can't believe you're okay with this whole idea," Bastian said,

sounding tired. Chase figured Bastian had the right. It had been a long day
for both of them, what with the physical exertion, followed by the deep,
emotional quagmire. "How can I say you're too good to be true without
saying I think you're playing me? Because I don't think you're playing me,
but you're definitely acting too good, Chase."

Chase chuckled and tucked Bastian just a bit closer, enjoying the way

that strong, lean body felt when so tightly melded to his own. "Maybe,"
Chase agreed. "I still want to know who's going to have our child. Your
child. Whatever." It was actually very important.

Bastian sighed softly and snuggled in closer. "Marisol," he said

simply. "I told you she has no maternal instinct. That wasn't a joke." Bastian
yawned and Chase tightened his arms around him. "She's my best friend,
even if we haven't talked for a few weeks, and I love her. She's gorgeous and

smart, and I'm pretty sure any kid I had with her would be fucking
awesome."

A soft sigh left Chase's lips as Bastian relaxed fully against him, and

Chase decided to worry about the next day when it came. It was sort of like
taking things one day at a time, only... not.

"Any kid of yours would be amazing," Chase murmured as he settled

in, falling asleep within moments of hearing the well-known rasps of
Bastian's sleeping breaths.

***

"I can't believe you're really moving to Boston." Man, Brenda

sounded pissed. "Just like that, no discussion, just 'Hey, Bren, I'm leaving
the restaurant and going to live with Bastian. Have a nice life.' Asshole!"

It was actually an old refrain. Chase had heard it on a near-daily basis

since he'd made his decision in Bastian's bed close to two months earlier. He
responded just as he always did, knowing her ire was just masking softer, no
less real feelings.

"You kiss Randy with that mouth?" He grinned, completely

unsurprised when her empty, non-ecologically-sound coffee cup flew at him
from the other side of what had been his apartment kitchen. He batted it out
of the air and applied the final bit of tape to the box he'd just finished
packing, grimacing at the shrieking sound the adhesive made as it separated
from the roller. "God, Brenda! You keep acting like I'm moving to another
country or something! It's just Boston, for fuck's sake! And it's not like I'll
never see you, you know."

Brenda crossed her arms and frowned, but Chase could see her

starting to get teary-eyed. "I know," she said, sounding grumpy as all hell. "I
just never really believed you meant it. Even when you put in your notice at
work instead of renewing your contract, I guess I figured you were looking
for a raise or something. God knows you deserved one, considering what
D-four put you through when he found out about you and Bastian."

Yeah, that hadn't been pretty, though Chase had no idea about why

Wallace Durmont the Fourth thought he had any right to guests of the hotel.

Or maybe it was just that D-four couldn't stand the idea that Chase had what
D-four would never touch. Still, as surprised as Brenda was that Chase was
actually leaving, the owners of the restaurant had been even more shocked.
Chase hadn't told Brenda -- or anyone, really -- but he had been offered a
raise. A substantial one. A raise and better benefits and profit sharing,
among other things.

It was the sort of package that should have had him telling Bastian

that he'd reconsidered and would be fine with going on the way they'd been
doing since their reconnection. Should have wasn't the same as did, though,
and Chase hadn't given any real consideration to accepting. He felt a little bit
guilty about it, in all honestly, because that sort offer with the economy the
way it was? Well, he figured anyone else in his position would have been all
over it. Nobody else had Bastian, though, and that made all the difference.

"D-four can go fuck himself," Chase announced sincerely. "Better yet,

he can go fuck that shithead ex 'partner' of Peter Jamison's. Between the two
of them, they'd probably have the market cornered on bitter and sour."

Brenda laughed, then covered her mouth quickly with a hand, but her

eyes crinkled at the corners and Chase relaxed. Brenda might be a lot of
things, but once she started laughing, she usually stayed happy. Happy beat
the merry fuck out of pissy and bitchy any day.

"I'd agree with you, but then they'd be in the restaurant every night

and you wouldn't have to deal with them!" She giggled. "Then Pink Salt
would have to close because everyone would quit, just from all their
ridiculous demands and Randy and I would both be out of work. That's not
the best way to start our new lives as a married couple, you know?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "Please, like that would... wait. Did you just say

married? You and Randy? Married?" Brenda was blushing brightly, which
was more than enough sign that Chase had heard correctly. "What the...?
When did that happen? Why the hell am I only hearing about it now? God,
you're marrying Randy? What the... where's the ring? I would have noticed a
ring, damn it!"

He really would have. Chase might not be the kind of gay man who

got all giggly at the sight of a diamond, but he did tend to notice things like
unexpected jewelry on his friends' ring fingers, for fuck's sake. "I guess
Jimmy must like him," he added, because that was his next thought. Brenda

would never have said yes to Randy if Jimmy was opposed to the man.

Brenda's blush only got deeper as she dug a shining band from her

jeans pocket and slipped it onto the appropriate finger. "Jimmy loves him
almost as much as I do," she admitted, holding her hand up to display the
sparkler. "Randy asked me the other night and I told him I needed to talk to
Jimmy first, and when I tried to ease into it, Jimmy just rolled his eyes and
said 'Jeez, Mom, marry him already! He's way cooler than the other kids'
dads!' I think Jimmy was expecting it more than I was!"

"I don't doubt it," Chase said with a laugh as he crossed the nearly

empty kitchen and picked Brenda up, swinging her in a few circles before
setting her back down with her hair mussed and a huge grin on her face.
"Knowing Randy, he probably asked Jimmy's permission before he even
bought the ring. Speaking of which?"

Chase took Brenda's hand and raised it to get a good look at the chunk

of shiny rock. "I'd say I was paying him too much, but he's worth it, so I
guess not. The boy done good." He winked and Brenda giggled again, which
was amazing since she'd never exactly been a giggler. Oh, one or two every
once in a while, but repeatedly? Not at all usual. "Better watch yourself,"
Chase said before he could edit his words. "You're starting to sound like
Petunia Pig. You know, Porky's girlfriend from the old cartoons?"

He didn't bother trying to avoid the punch Brenda shot at his shoulder.

He absolutely deserved it, but that didn't make it sting any less. Brenda was
still laughing, though.

"So you're happy?" He already knew the answer, but he wanted to

hear her say it. She was his best friend. Well, his best friend aside from
Bastian, and Chase was sure the same applied to Brenda. She had likely
replaced him with Randy as her true best friend, but there was a difference
between friend best friend and partner best friend. "You look happy."

"I." Brenda's smile didn't fade, but it got a little less ecstatic, and

Chase almost kicked himself for upsetting her, but then she went on. "I'm
happier than I ever thought I would be again. I just... when James died, I
thought that was it. I always thought he was the one love of my life, you
know? And I always figured I was luckier than so many other war-widows. I
had Jimmy, and that was enough. He's so much like his father. He looks just
like him. And now there's Randy and he's nothing like James, but he makes

me feel alive in all sorts of ways that I never expected to feel again, and he
loves me, Belly. He treats me like a lady, even with all the borderline-nasty
things we've done."

Chase backed away, scrunching up his nose. "I'll pay you to never tell

me anything more about your sex life. Seriously."

Brenda laughed, her smile evening out again. "Oh, trust me, you're

gonna pay, all right. But yes. I'm happy. Jimmy's happy. It's a huge ball of
happy-happy-joy-joy, okay? We're thinking about six or seven months from
now for the wedding. I'll let you know when we have an actual date, and
you're going to have that weekend off. You're my Man of Honor, so you
have to be there. Bastian, too. I expect one hell of a bachelorette party, by
the way."

Brenda's commanding voice went on for a while, telling Chase all the

things he would need to do as the Man of Honor, and while Chase wasn't
sure when or how he'd agreed to being that, the idea was actually kind of
cool.

He didn't know thing one about flowers or color schemes, but as he

wasn't stupid, he just smiled and nodded. The last thing he needed was a
pissed off bride-to-be. Especially one who seemed to have finally forgiven
him for moving away.

Then again, Brenda was in love, too, so whatever hard time she gave

him, Chase was sure she actually understood, and what were best friends for,
if not to bust each other's chops, sometimes?

***

His things were in storage for the moment, not that Chase had much

that he'd wanted to take to Bastian's, but there were a few items he wasn't
willing to part with. His kitchen accessories, for one, which were for the
most part top of the line with a few cast iron pans he'd inherited from his
mother, who'd gotten them from her mother and grandmother. There was
also an old chest of drawers that had been his grandfather's, on his father's
side, and a round-topped table and matching desk, both of which had inlaid
treated leather on their top surfaces. The table and desk had been his dad's
mother's, and Chase cherished them, but there just wasn't room in Bastian's

apartment for them, or for the antique, hand-carved head and foot boards
that had been on Chase's bed.

There were some old family photographs, going back almost to the

turn of the century, that Chase had left with Dad and Mo for safekeeping, as
well, but that was fine. He and Bastian were looking for a house, and Chase
was sure they would find one soon enough. They had plenty of time to look.
In the meantime, Chase's clothes and such fit just fine in the spaces Bastian
had cleared for him, just like Chase fit in Bastian's bed as though he'd never
been anywhere else.

A long, loud, happy sigh left him as he lay back, eyes closed, relaxing

after shutting the top drawer of the dresser on his socks and underwear. It
was a shared drawer, which had been a little bit strange at first, but then
Chase had considered that he and Bastian spent as much time as possible
wrapped up in each other, so what difference did it make if their boxer briefs
got intimate, too? It was encouraging, in a way. A really odd way, but still,
Chase liked it.

He liked the bed, too. It was the same bed he'd been sleeping in a

couple nights each week, but somehow it felt better. More solid, though not
more firm. Bastian liked a somewhat soft mattress, and Chase liked a nice,
hard Bastian, and there was no way that combination didn't work for him.

The street parking was something of an issue. Chase wasn't looking

forward to having to move his car at various times of the day and night, but
fuck it. He could deal with just about anything. Their house, when they
found it, was going to have a driveway, though, and it would need to be long
enough for both their vehicles; that was non-negotiable. Unless Chase sold
his old beater and bought a motorcycle. That could be cool.

He could picture himself cruising through the Boston streets, Bastian

behind him and holding on tight, the long, lean man so close that not even a
hair could slide between them, Bastian's cock rubbing against his ass while
Chase steered. Yeah, that could be cool.

Of course, Chase could also picture nearly freezing to death in the

winter when any sane person would be in an actual enclosed vehicle, and
getting soaked to the skin during the rest of the seasons, and there was no
safe place to attach a car seat, which was definitely an issue, assuming all
went well.

"It was a nice dream," he decided out loud, fully aware that Bastian

was standing in the bedroom doorway. Chase had heard his man get home,
after all. "For about a minute, anyway, but you'd hate it, Bastian. Besides,
kids always think those things are cool. The last thing we need is for our kid
to decide it's okay just because I do it."

Bastian laughed and Chase opened his eyes, drinking in the sight of

the man. He would never grow tired of seeing Bastian, or of seeing that look
on Bastian's face. That look that said Bastian was seeing everything he'd
ever wanted just as much as Chase was seeing the exact same thing when he
looked at Bastian.

Thank God it was both of them, Chase thought, smiling as Bastian

started slipping out of suit jacket, tie, and button-down shirt. It would have
been terrible if it had been only Chase who felt the overwhelming sense of
rightness when they were together. Then Bastian unfastened his belt and
trousers, dropping them beside the bed before crawling in next to Chase, and
Chase reached out automatically, pulling Bastian closer.

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes locked on Bastian's bright blue gaze,

and Bastian's answering smile had Chase's stomach twisting with
anticipation.

"Hey, yourself," Bastian murmured, one hand already working at

Chase's jeans. "It looks like you're all moved in. I was going to help."

Chase chuckled quietly and pulled away just enough to shimmy out of

his clothes and kick his sneakers off. "I was early, and I didn't want to bother
you at work. If I had, you'd have come home, and that probably would have
meant you'd need to go in tomorrow to finish up. Sorry, but I'd rather have
you all day tomorrow than helping me put away clothes and shit today."

Bastian moaned softly when Chase's t-shirt hit the floor. "Good point.

I should probably tell you, Tom's ordered me to stay away from the office
until Monday. I didn't know he had it in him, but he can be scary when he
wants to. I... does this really feel like home, Chase? I mean, I know we
agreed to stay here until..."

"Anywhere you are feels like home," Chase announced easily when

Bastian's voice trailed off. He turned onto his side and raised one hand,
cupping Bastian's cheek. "I'm not saying this apartment is ideal, but we'll
find a place soon and it'll be fucking paradise. Until then, this works. God,

Bastian, it works way better than being two hours away from you every day,
without traffic."

"You loved your job," Bastian said next, as though he was trying to

find reasons for Chase to be unhappy, and Chase snorted.

"I did. And I'll love my new job just as much. I checked it out,

remember? And so did you. We'll be fine, Bastian." He pressed a kiss to
Bastian's lips, delving into the warm, wet cavern of Bastian's mouth when
the opportunity presented itself. "We'll find our house," he said a few
minutes later, feeling Bastian's need against him, his own matching it, but
Chase wasn't willing to wait until later to speak his mind.

"We'll find our house," Chase said again, "and it'll be amazing. It'll be

fucking paradise. Until then, this is close enough."

Bastian's eyes were half-lidded, sexy as all get out, but Chase still

laughed when Bastian spoke.

"So this is almost paradise?" Bastian's voice was low and rumbly,

winding that anticipatory twist in Chase's stomach tighter.

"It's definitely close enough," Chase gasped out as he took Bastian's

mouth again, falling into the heated desire that never seemed to fade.

Their mouths moved harder, tongues striving for more while their

hands finished baring smooth skin for touches and strokes.

He would tell Bastian about Brenda's wedding later, and the whole

motorcycle thing, Chase decided. Much, much later. Sometime between
almost paradise and paradise found, which had less to do with houses than
Bastian clearly thought.

With any luck, the wedding would coincide with one of Bastian's

visits to Hartford to finalize the specifics of launching the new hair care line
with Peter Jamison, but if not... well, fuck it. Then Bastian pushed him back
on the bed and started exploring even more, and Chase lost the thought.

Minutes later, when he slid hard and deep into Bastian, Chase couldn't

imagine being anywhere else. Paradise or only almost, Chase was right
where he needed to be. In love and happy and not even a little bit scared.
Chase was home.

Judging by the way Bastian writhed and moaned beneath him, so was

Bastian, and that was the best thing ever.

End.

If you liked this book you might like: Lemon Yellow: Making

Lemonade, Lime Green: Margarita Mondays, Mandarin Orange: Sweet &
Sour. zzzz