Knife’s Edge Pt. 04

A gay story: Knife’s Edge Pt. 04 —- —- —- 1.

Joel and I spend a lot of time talking. He was always up for a long talk- almost as much as he was always up for sex. It threw me. I still found myself second guessing what he was trying to get out of the conversation, what he wanted from me. He never shied away from a problem, although he was a hot head and often said the first thing that came into his mind- which sometimes really hurt, and wasn’t even what he really meant. Mind you, I was pretty far from the perfect communicator also. I tend to shut down outside, but inside I’ll have one million conversations going on and none of them are actually helpful.

We were both working on that. One day we’ll reach a state of enlightenment. Or something a bit closer at least.

We talk a lot about happiness. Joel’s into Buddhism and meditation. Joel thinks Nirvana is living knowing life sucks. Untethering yourself from that and finding freedom in the lack of a higher power guiding you to happiness.

Not that he’s much good at it.

I think Nirvana is a lie. Or at least- you have to really divorce yourself from the world we live in to find it. Accepting nothing and being ok with that means accepting the obvious- no money, no possessions, no personal connections. Maybe that’s a sort of pure and honest way to enlightenment. But fuck me, that sucks. I kind of want to know the highs and the lows. I want to be loved. I want to feel my lungs burn after smoking. I even want to try drugs, one day. I want my own space. I want responsibility.

I’m ok to take all of that with unhappiness.

You’re not unhappy all the time.

—- — —

We had been together- officially- for under a week. Joel WOULD NOT STOP calling me ‘his’. As if it wasn’t hard enough for me. He knew. I’d told him! Just because you have a big strong reassuring pair of arms around you doesn’t mean all your insecurities and worries and anxiety just magically fall away. It came to a head when he called me ‘his babygirl’ in front of Charlie. I kind of wanted the floor to swallow me up, and I kind of wanted a bolt of lightning to strike him, but neither of those things were going to happen. Taking it as a joke would be easier, but what the hell kind of respect could I earn from the chefs if they thought I’d melt the second Joel gave me pet names?

“Hey, sugartits.” I glared at Joel. He was grinning. Asshole. “You ever call me ‘babygirl’ at work again and I promise I will cut your balls off.”

“You’d miss my balls.” Joel folded his arms and smirked at me.

“You reckon?” We held each other’s gaze.

“Heard, chef.” Joel dropped his arms to his side.

“Good boy.” I strode away, trying to hide how shitty I felt. At least it worked. I never ever heard a peep of mockery from the chefs- or even saw any side eyes or jokes under their breath. And I was looking for it. Of course I was.

But pet names weren’t even my biggest issue.

“Sorry.” Joel hung his head as we sat down to a drink while we did our admin. The cameras had been fixed, after literal years, which we discovered to our chagrin a day after we’d told Lydia and Marty we were dating. Thank god we didn’t actually have sex on the grill or something…. We just got caught taking a bottle of wine which, since I needed to order more, I’d luckily left a note about which kind of looked like an IOU, which I did pay.

“Sorry for…?” I wasn’t being a smartass. It had been a long day.

“While you are my babygirl, I realise that was a shitty thing to call you in front of others.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” I winced as I remembered Amy was away and I had to fill 42 hours somehow. At least there are always a lot of students floating around. I started changing the roster.

“Um. Are you mad at me?”

“Ah, I dunno. No.” Kurt always wanted extra hours. He could probably pick up almost half that. And then Maria, Decklan, and Chaz could all pick up a shift.

“Talk to me.” I glanced at Joel and realised he wasn’t trying to do his own work. He was just sitting there, looking sad.

“Oh sorry, I was distracted.” I glanced at the roster and the phone in my hand, about to quickly send some pleading texts. I didn’t have the bandwidth to properly accept an apology.

“I can get on with some work as well.” Joel said quietly.

“I’m not mad at you.” I said, opening up my master wine tasting document. “Promise. Let’s talk tonight. But can I get through this first? I’ll be half an hour.”

“Yep, me too.” He sat up straight and pulled out his iPad. “So you do still love me?”

“You’re pathetic.” I laughed, shuffling closer to him. “Yes.”

—- —-

“So… did you still wanna talk?” We were on the deck, curled up in the hammock, chipping our teeth eating peanut butter on a stale baguette.

“Yeah.” I brushed crumbs off myself and rolled over so I could look at Joel properly. “You’re always like… claiming me. You called me YOUR babygirl today, and YOUR Maître D’ to Lydia the other day, and just straight up YOURS all the time. I finally realised I’m my own… me… not an appendage of AJ and now I feel I’m some sort of trophy?”

“Ahhhh, yeah. I see how that would feel.” Joel took my hand. “Wow. Thanks for telling me. Ah.” He winced. “I’m sorry, Rubes. I’ll reign that in.”

“Thank you.”

“And… I’m also so sorry about calling you babygirl. I know there is a line and I crossed it. It will never happen again.”

“Ok.” I nodded. “I’d really appreciate that. Thank you.”

“But you can call me sugartits anytime.” He smiled and wrapped his arms around me, coating both of us in crumbs.

“Well. You do have delightful tits.” I kissed his chest. He clasped my neck and pressed my head into his chest as he flexed his pecs. I had to stifle a moan as my face was buried between the mounds. Huh. Maybe this is why people like women.

“Mmmmm.” He stroked my hair as I sat up. “Baby- I have an idea.”

“What kind of idea?” I grinned.

“Come on.” We helped each other out of the hammock gracelessly and he dragged me to his room. His eyes were sparkling as he lay me on the bed. He stripped, and I admired his body. He was posing- his muscles bulging as he grinned at me. He knelt on the bed, his legs spread, stroking his cock slowly as he looked at me. “I’ve been wanting to ask you for ages.” He bit his lip as he looked me over. “I… I want you to fuck me.”

“Uh…” I giggled awkwardly. Like… role play? Where we’d never fucked before? “Am I… meant to be like… a virgin here or…?” Joel ran his hand through his hair with a tiny sigh. He shook his head and leaned over me. He took my hand. He looked me in the eye as he unfolded two fingers, and started sucking them. He moaned as his tongue danced over them and spit dripped down my hand. I felt my pants growing tight.

“No.” He panted quietly. He knelt over my chest and wrestled my arm between his legs. “I want you. To fuck me.” He pressed my fingers to his hole and moaned as I touched him. The look on his face went straight to my dick and I felt myself react totally instinctually. I pulled him up and shuffled down, and he moaned as he pressed himself into the headboard. Surely eating ass wasn’t that much harder than sucking cock? Easier in some ways. I was suddenly possessed with the need to make love to his hole with my mouth. To make him feel good in a way I’d never made anyone feel good. I squeezed myself over my jeans for a bit or relief as I pulled his ass towards me, dragging my tongue over his balls.

“Oh fuck baby.” He moaned. “That’s it.” I mirrored what he did for me. I rubbed my fingers over his hole, and gently licked his balls as I inserted one finger, gently twisting it against his prostate. “Rubes…” he panted, “oh fuck, baby… honey… shit…” he whined. I switched my hand to stroking his dick slowly. I pressed my mouth to his rosebud. He liked it, moaning when I pressed my tongue flat against him and flexed it. It made his ass clench when I darted my tongue in. He stopped me when I bit his cheek, pulling away and flopping on the other side of the bed, his hot naked body sprawled out.

“Sorry.” I winced. “Never tried that. No biting?”

“More biting.” Joel moaned, throwing me some lube. “Bite me all over. But please fuck me.”

“Baby…” I held the lube awkwardly. My dick was NOT listening to my brain. I was so hard, throbbing in my jeans. Part of me was looking at his body and just chanting ‘Fuck him! Fuck him! Fuck him!’. Joel took a deep breath and pressed his hands hard against his thighs as he sat up. He shook himself, a cute little habit he sometimes had when he was moving from one emotion to the next.

“Ok, ok…” he panted, “listening, listening baby. What’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t fuck you.” I glanced down at myself. Joel gathered me up in his arms and pressed his lips to my neck. He ground himself against me as he held me, feeling my body, lingering on the muscle.

“Well, you CAN.” He said. “Are you saying you won’t?”

“No I… I’m a bottom.”

“You’ve never tried topping.” He kissed me. He was only half trying to have a real conversation. He was way too wound up. His kisses were sloppy and trailing spit down my neck in a way that made me ache. “You might like it.”

“I’m too small.” I mumbled.

“No, babe. You’re not.” He giggled. “Trust me.”

“I’m smaller than you.”

“I’m gifted.” He sucked on my earlobe. “If you really, really, really don’t want to, then that’s cool, baby. I love you. But…” he pulled away and brushed my hair off my face, looking me in the eye. “I am like, 6 feet of pure muscle slave just for you, and it would be so hot if you’d breed me.”

Well that was one way to cut through my insecurities. I threw Joel back to the bed with a grunt. I glanced at him as I undressed. He was stroking his cock and fingering his hole, staring at me with total desperation. I unbuckled my belt and dropped my pants, stepping forward as I stroked my cock. I paused for a second as I looked at him, spread on the bed for me, moaning as our eyes met. Before a fraction of doubt could slip in, my cock took the reins and I found myself kneeling over him. I moved his hands to my thighs. I lubed my fingers and inserted them between his massive legs. His eyes rolled back as I penetrated him with my hand, slowly. I rubbed my hand over his chest. He rolled his hips up and shivered, biting down on his lip. I ran my hand over his pec, taking his nipple between my fingers and flicking it. I felt his ass clench around my fingers and I saw his dick lurch.

“Sensitive?” I teased. His eyes fell half open and he smiled weakly at me.

“Bite me.” He mumbled.

“Oui, chef.” I moved my hand gently, so I could keep fingering him as I lent over. I clasped my hand to his waist. I licked his nipple, and his cock throbbed again, against my thigh. I teased him, rolling it in my mouth as he moaned softly. And I bit him. His whole body twitched. He rolled his hips up and down with pleasure, moaning as he involuntarily started fucking himself on my fingers. I sucked on his nipple gently, kissing the puffy skin. “Hot.” I mumbled. I licked his chest, moaning as I tasted his hair and sweat. I ran my tongue down his torso. He shuddered. I paused and let him feel my breath on his dick, and then I bit the sensitive skin just above it, sucking gently. His body tensed and released, like waves of pleasure rippling through his muscles.

“Rubes.” He caught my hand and laced our fingers. He opened his eyes again and looked at me blearily. “Rubes, Rubes, Rubes… fuck me. Please. Please fuck me.”

I moaned and withdrew my fingers from him. In my horniness I offered them to him. He opened his mouth wide and sucked them, making eye contact with me. Fuck. That was so damn hot. I reached for his bedside table and he stopped me.

“Breed me.” He moaned. I paused.

“You… sure?” We hadn’t been using condoms for a while. I had a comprehensive STD check up- no other nasty surprises there thank god. But… I don’t know.

“Absolutely fucking sure.” Joel growled.

“Ok.”

I spread Joel’s legs, watching his muscles ripple. I was rougher than I meant to be, but his breath hitched. I wrapped my arms around his thighs and hoisted him up a little. He responded eagerly, grunting and thrusting his hips up. I stroked my cock slowly, drooling probably, as I stared at his hole. I’d never had the desire before but there was some kind of innate raging testosterone reaction to seeing him spread before me that turned my brain into a cave man. Breed him. Fuck him. Take him. Yours.

I rubbed my cock between his cheeks, moaning with the sensation.

“Fuck, you love this, don’t you?” I heard myself saying.

“Yessss.” Joel moaned.

“You want my dick?”

“Yes, chef. Fuck me.”

“What’s the magic word, baby?” I reached for his nipple and flicked it.

“Please! Please baby!”

“Fuck.” I moaned as my thoughts were drained. It was like everything that made me Rueben Valentini was suddenly gone, and all that was left was a freak with a cock for a brain.

His pussy felt sooooooo good.

“Shit, Joel.” I moaned, pausing to let my cock throb inside him. I could feel his ring twitch around me. “Shit, good boy. You’re taking this cock … so… good…” I started thrusting. My arms drifted to his hips and I squeezed them.

“Yes, fuck, yes… Rubes…” I rolled my hips, holding him where I wanted him as I pounded, changing my strokes to shallow and slow, then hard again. Joel’s mouth was open and his eyes were closed. What felt really good for him? What was making him tremble? I pulled almost all the way out, and paused, pushing in just a little bit. Joel gasped.

“Oh that’s the spot isn’t it baby?” I grinned. “I got you.”

“Mmm… Rubes…” he mumbled.

“Did I fuck the brains out of you?” I asked. He nodded. I was taking fast short shallow strokes, trying to hit that spot he loved. His dick was throbbing and I saw him start to reach for it. My eyes flashed and I caught his hand, pinning to the bed. “You wanna cum?” I growled. His eyes flew open. He nodded as he looked at me.

“Yes, please.”

“That’s my job.” I let his hand go and reached for his cock. I usually found this a bit too much, so I was gentle- just holding his dick loosely, like I owned it. His breath was getting shallow and his body was starting to shake. His muscles tensed and I moaned as his thighs clamped tight around me.

“Fuck!” He grunted, his hips gyrating as cum burst from his cock. I let my eyes roll back in my head as I felt his hole twitch around me. Breed him. I grabbed his ass cheeks and slammed my dick as deep as I could inside him. He needed to take me, all of me, right then. He needed my cum deep inside him. Joel’s cock twitched limply as I throbbed deep inside.

“Fuck.” I moaned, collapsing. My cock slipped out and I rolled over, grabbing Joel and wrapping my arms around him. We caught our breath, me squeezing the living daylights out of him until he gently pushed me away.

I was a bit embarrassed about horny cave man Rueben and I avoided his eyes.

“Was that… uh. Ok?” I asked. Joel yawned and pulled me up as he stretched out. “You could give me some tips.” I suggested. He ignored me and threw a t- shirt at me. “We showering?”

“Mmm.” He yawned again and found a pair of shorts. I sat heavily on the bed.

“What did I do wrong?” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Huh?” Joel sat beside me. He looked at me and took my hand, tracing patterns up my arm.

“Did I say something? Did I hurt you? Do I just… like… suck at that?”

“Oh, woah, no.” Joel blinked and shook his head. “No, babe.” He blinked again, like you do when you’re trying to wake up. “Dude, I am just… blissed the fuck out.”

“Is that… good?”

“Is that good?” Joel repeated, rolling his eyes and tackling me to the bed. “You know what blissed out means.”

“Well maybe it means something different sometimes…?”

“Moron.” He kissed my forehead. “Surely you felt that cosmic shift Rubes? You my man, are a natural born Top. Hallelujah that you finally had a chance to figure it out. No ass is safe.” He laughed. “That was fucking awesome for you too right?”

“Yeah.” I frowned at him.

“What’s up?” He turned his head to one side.

“I…” I looked away. “I was thinking some really shitty things about you.”

“Like what?”

“Like… that your… pussy felt good. That I wanted to breed you. That you’re mine…” I cleared my throat and glanced at Joel. His eyebrows were raised. “Sorry.” I mumbled.

“Oh. No.” He pulled me up and sat next to me again. “Uh… when we’re fucking… either way… those thoughts…. Ah. You are so welcome to share.”

“It feels a bit degrading. In retrospect.”

“Yeah.” Joel looked at me thoughtfully and touched my thigh. “I guess I personally quite LIKE the degrading.”

“But, it’s not really how I feel about you…”

“No honey, it’s just a kink.”

“I don’t have any kinks.”

“You definitely like breeding me.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Everyone likes fucking.”

“I guess so.” He yawned. “I think we are at the precipice of a conversation that both of us are too tired to have. Pause?”

“Yeah, ok.” I leant in and kissed him. He ran his fingers through my hair. “Was it actually any good?” I whispered.

“Oh yeah.” Joel grinned. “Maybe it was beginners luck?” He teased as he pulled me up again. “We’ll have to try again. Get an average. Ok. Let’s get this cum out of my ass.”

—— —- —- 2.

We had a photo shoot for some publication I’d missed the name of, who were doing a piece on emerging hospitality talent. Pongakawa was one of about six featured restaurants from around Aotearoa, all of whom were managed, if not owned, by under 30s.

I thought it was going to be a casual iPhone shoot, with our names attached and Lydia and Marty would do all the talking and get all the praise- that’s usually how this kind of thing worked. I tensed up a little as we walked through the door to see a full camera crew and an actual journalist.

“Oh, is this a big deal?” I asked Joel. He side eyed me and cleared his throat.

“Na, man.” He said. “This’ll be nothing. Just stand there and look pretty for a photo and give them a dumb quote about local high quality ingredients.”

“Got it.” I squeezed his hand for reassurance.

It was a proper full on interview. Joel and I did them separately while Lydia flitted around, arranging flowers and pumpkins to look decorative for the photos.

“Oohhhh…” she paused, clutching my shoulder. “Do a bit with the lovebirds together. That’ll be cute yes?” The journalist, Miranda, looked at me, smiling.

“Lovebirds?” She laughed. “Ironic?”

“Yeah…”

“Oh, god no.” Lydia interrupted me. “Joel’s Ruben’s partner. In every way, right doll?” She grinned at me and her teeth glinted.

“Well, yeah.” I admitted.

“Oh wow.” Miranda looked over to where Joel had slunk off to start prep.

“Come here, hun.” Lydia called to him. He glanced up and raised his eyebrows at me. He looked at his prep and I could see him take a very deep breath, before putting a very fake smile on.

“What’s up?” He stomped over and put his hands in his pockets.

“Miranda wants to ask you guys about you know… you guys.” She winked obscenely. I saw Joel shudder a fraction. “Bit of colour you know?” She informed Miranda. Joel winced and sank down beside me. We looked at each other and I could see the apology in his eyes.

“Wow.” Miranda laughed again. “You know, I used to waitress part time. There was a lot of front of house, back of house action don’t get me wrong. But the leaders seemed to hate each other! How on earth do you not drive each other crazy?”

“We do.” Joel said. He shook himself and laughed. A fake laugh. “But we work it out. Good comms in house, great comms out in the wild. You know.”

“Gosh.” She tapped her tape recorder absentmindedly. “That’s lovely. Been together long?”

“Not long.” I mumbled.

“But I loved him since the day I met him.” Joel piped up. I glared at him and he stifled a laugh. “Well, maybe not.” He conceded. “We grew on each other.”

“You must be thinking of opening your own place one day?” Miranda leant forward, lowering her voice.

“Not really, we have a lot of admiration for Lydia and Marty. And a lot to learn before we’re ready for that.” Joel beamed. Jesus he was good at this. I raised my eyebrows at him and he kicked me in the shin.

“Ouch.” I muttered.

We got through a torturous hour or so of talking about our backgrounds and where we saw the future of cuisine in a dreadful economy with food shortages due to climate change. I answered the real questions and Joel had the grace to lie about anything that probed too deep into our personal life. We took some photos together, which I would have died over- except I kept telling myself this was fine. Just some cheap local rag and no one would read it anyway.

Miranda smiled and shook our hands.

“I’ll send through a copy of ‘Cuisine’ when we publish.” She promised on her way out. I frowned.

“Why Cuisine?” I glanced at Joel. He wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah. Ah, that WAS Cuisine.”

“No it wasn’t? You said it was no big deal?”

“Yeah, if you remembered you would have shat yourself.” Joel put his arms over my shoulders. “It’s still no big deal, baby.”

“It’s the biggest deal for wine and food across Australasia.” I felt the colour drain from my face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Deep breaths, honey.” Joel kissed my forehead. “You did it.”

“Oh shit.” I cursed at myself. “I can’t believe I…”

“Hey.” Joel tilted my chin to look at him. “Deep breaths. Rubes. It’s over. You did it. You don’t need to worry about it until it’s out.”

“I don’t need to, but I’m going to.” I hung my head. “I really wish you’d told me.”

“You would have hidden in the bathroom and denied the world your talent.” He said.

“Still.”

“Next time we get international interest I’ll make sure it’s crystal.” He squeezed me and stepped away. “Love you, babe.”

“You too.”

“You’ll be alright for service tonight?”

“Yes, chef.”

“Good man.” He clapped my shoulder.

—- —- —-

“Dinner?” Joel glanced up at me from my lap where he was curled up with a book I’d leant him. I grunted and checked the time.

“It’s 1am.”

“Breakfast?” He joked. “You haven’t eaten much since…”

“Can you stop tracking my eating?” I snapped. He slowly put his book down.

“Ah. I could.” He gently pulled my book from my hands. “Can we… talk about the fact you’re starving yourself?”

“What?” I flinched. “In no world am I…”

“You. Do not. Eat. Enough.” He folded his arms. “You are losing weight like CRAZY.”

“No I’m…”

“I want to stop this before it turns into something I can’t stop.” Joel stared at me. “You never used to be weird about food. When I started you LOVED my staffies.”

“Well I was a fat sack of…”

“Hey. Stop that.” He interrupted, his face falling. “Don’t be so mean to yourself. I hate it when you do that.”

“Sorry.” I muttered.

“Do you ever talk about this with your therapist?” Joel took my hands.

“I… didn’t know there was anything to talk about.” I avoided his eyes.

“I think you should mention it.” He said softly. “Say it’s me being overly concerned if it helps you bring it up.”

“Ok.” I glanced at him. “I… I can, I guess.”

“It would mean a lot to me.”

“Well… ok. Sure. I will.”

“Thank you.” He sighed and reached for a beer, offering me one which I took gingerly. “And- since we’re already doing hard talks.. I really wanted to talk about sex.”

“Oh.” I glanced around the room. “Ok. Can we do that… in your bedroom?”

“Yeah, come on baby.” He helped me up gently, cradling me as we walked. I couldn’t quite relax. Something was gnawing at me. I’d failed him. I stole a glance at his face and he smiled as our eyes met. He was mad at me. He hated me for being weird. Somehow I was going to have to eat more, without totally fucking up the weight that I’d lost… maybe I could just eat when I was in front of him… maybe I could try making myself throw up. Or laxatives. I don’t know which sounded worse.

Oh my god. I heard my own thoughts rattling around in my brain. Maybe Joel was right. Maybe I did have a problem. Maybe I should mention this in therapy.

I realised we were sitting down, looking at each other on Joel’s bed. He was saying something but I’d been too caught in my own head to hear it.

“Sorry… Joel, I was… somewhere else.” I took his hand. “What were you saying?”

“I wanted to talk about…” He sighed. “I want you to feel very, very safe when we have sex. And I realised the other night that maybe you don’t always. And we both know you aren’t always the best at advocating for yourself. I thought maybe we could… have a bit of a… conversation. Maybe put some safe words in play. Talk about kinks, or insecurities…”

I stared at him.

The problem with therapy is, every now and then, especially when you’re tired… your walls just come crashing down.

Joel’s eyes widened and he caught me as I doubled over, sobbing.

“Honey.” He pressed his lips to my neck, cradling me. Rocking me gently. “Rubes.” He mumbled. He made quiet little noises, stroking my back and mumbling nothings until my wails slowed down and my breathing grew steady.

“I’m so sorry.” I pressed myself into him. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Please don’t be.” He stroked my hair. “Let it out, baby.”

“I really love you. I feel really safe with you.” I wrapped my arms around him. “I just… I’m scared of that guy inside me. The one who wants to just… use you. Your body I mean. He seems really nasty, and scary and… and you have one inside too, don’t you? Like when we fuck? When you fuck me?”

“Ohhhh baby.” Joel kept rocking me. “Oh Rubes. As long as you’re not comfortable with that guy I will NEVER let him out.” He pushed my hair off my face and frowned at me. “There is a huge, huge difference between consensual play- and it’s play, baby, where we both like it- and meanness and brutality. And if those lines are hard for you we will stay well, well away from them ok?”

“But I really, really like it.” I hid my face in his arms. “I liked it so much, fucking you. I wanted to fucking… god I don’t know. I wanted to POSSESS you. And when you fuck me… I want you to tie me down and have your way with me… and it feels so good! But what if…”

“It’s ok.” He held me. “Tell me. What if?”

“What if we hurt each other?”

“That’s why we’re talking. So we don’t do that.” He pressed his head to my neck. “We talk about what we like. We talk about what we don’t like. We talk about what we aren’t sure about. We set up a traffic light. We check in. And we respect each other’s boundaries, no matter how horny we are. We never, ever, push a boundary. And we don’t even start fucking each other until we’ve had that talk. Now. In a week. In five years. I am ready when you are. And until then, I will hold you and love you and cherish you.”

“Fuck.” I choked on a half laugh. “Were you born knowing exactly what to say?”

“No.” Joel smiled. “But I say what I mean. You know that.”

—- —- — 3.

It didn’t take five years. It took a couple of weeks though. I stayed home a bit more: being in bed next to him was hard. The first week Carl and I talked about my eating habits. Like most things, it seemed to swing back to AJ. I hadn’t quite connected it. Not eating was a form of control. Like if I could control my body I could control how he saw me better. Only I’d been so broken with him I couldn’t control my body. Loss of control was hard for me- harder now than it had ever been because with AJ I never learned about control of myself- he took very good care of that for me. Carl referred me to another psychologist, one who specialised in eating disorders, which I swore black and blue I didn’t have. I hated having to take another hour out of my week to talk more about how fucked up I was.

But I felt less fucked up every day.

The next week my mind was fluttering around and I couldn’t focus. Carl cleared his throat halfway through our session and looked at me thoughtfully over his frames.

“Your mind is in a lot of places today, Rueben.” He told me. “Is it one thing? Or a lot of things?”

“It’s one thing.” I admitted.

“I see. Does it have a name?”

“Kind of.” I mumbled. “I’m not sure it’s… appropriate to talk about.”

“I want this to be a space where everything is ok to talk about.” Carl said. “Which you might not be ready for. But I do want you to get something out of this session. Is there anything small under that big umbrella we won’t name that you’re ok sharing?”

“It’s… sex.” I stared at the ground, feeling hot and uncomfortable.

“Oh. That’s definitely a big one.” He nodded. He put his notes aside and crossed his hands on his lap. “We won’t record any of this. I think sex can be hard for the most well adjusted people, with the most blessed lives you could imagine. There are some very big emotions that come up. Some big words. Any words coming up for you?”

“Shame.” I muttered.

“Yeah, that’s a really big one.” Carl smiled. “Shame. Wow, Reuben. That’s wonderful that you can identify that. I’m very proud of you.”

“Right.” I snorted.

“No one on earth has never experienced some shame in an intimate relationship.” He said. “And most people would never name that. You’re doing amazing work here. You should be proud, honestly.”

“Well…. How do I…fix it?”

“Rueben.” Carl smiled warmly. “You’re doing great already. Do you speak to Joel about this?”

“Yeah.” I itched my knee. “He’s good. He’s really good. We actually aren’t… at the moment because I was scared….”

“So fear is another word?”

“Um. Yeah. Fear. That feels right.”

“Are you scared of him?”

“Not…exactly…” I sighed. “I feel like we both have… an evil person inside us. An evil horny guy who… thinks awful things and wants to do awful things and I’m scared of that.”

“Mmmm.” Carl nodded. “Yes. One’s horny self is not always one’s best self. You feel safe with Joel though?”

“I do.”

“You promise me?”

“Yes.” I shook my head with a smile. “He’s almost as good as you actually. I feel very safe with him.”

“That’s wonderful to hear.” Carl said.

We talked about communication. We talked about establishing boundaries. We talked about everything Joel had already said- but hearing it from Carl- who didn’t know me that way, and who didn’t love me- it felt like I was back on solid ground. I felt like maybe I could try again.

—- —– —–

I didn’t mean to go from zero to a thousand…

But a real talk about boundaries; clear yes’s, clear no’s- what we both found hot, what gave us the ick…

It ended up winding me up. Joel noticed and cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly.

“Maybe that’s a good session one.” He avoided looking at me.

“Mmm.” We’d come from a late night gym session, and he had a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His pump was still present in his singlet that showed his arms and his abs and half his pecs underneath. His legs were tucked up underneath him, the muscles in his thighs bulging. My eyes were running over him and he was blushing.

“I might shower.” He muttered.

“Yeah, sure.” I reached for him and pulled him into me. He moaned as I parted his lips and kissed him, my tongue forcing its way in and my body wrapping around him.

“Baby…” He gently extracted himself. “Thought we were taking it slow.” He ran his hand over my chest. I bit my lip.

“It’s been two weeks.”

“Two weeks, two days, 19 hours.” His voice rumbled. “If we’re being pedantic.”

“That’s pretty slow.”

“You’re about to eat me.” He looked into my eyes. “If you fuck me right now it’s going to be really intense.”

“I want you.”

“Yellow.” I nodded and took a deep breath. I let my arms fall to his legs and stroked his thighs gently.

“Go on.”

“We haven’t had sex in two weeks. Last time you fucked me it brought up some really hard stuff. My suspicion is that if we wait until we’re a bit level headed we can have a very safe, comfortable, vanilla love making session and you’ll feel very good about yourself.”

“You’re…” I sighed, clenching his fists, “you’re probably right.”

“I probably am.” He reached out and played with a strand of my hair. “Which isn’t to say I don’t want the absolute destruction I can see in your eyes. I just want it after a deep breath.”

“Did you study psych?” I smiled at him. “Why are you so good at this?”

“Actually, before I went to Cordon Bleu I did half a year of Philosophy.” He grinned. My eyes widened.

“You ass! And all the shit you gave me for music!”

“It’s called ‘insecurity’, honey.”

“You’re not insecure.”

“Oh, does my babygirl Rubes have a monopoly on insecurity?”

“Well. You hide it well.”

“No, I hide it by lashing out at people who don’t deserve it.” He sighed. “I’m getting better though, yeah?”

“You haven’t lashed out at anyone in months.” I grinned. “I think I’m a good influence.”

“I think you’re an increíble influence.” His eyes fluttered closed and he leant in. We kissed softly, our breath growing heavier. We shuffled closer to each other and my legs wrapped around him. I felt his erection pressing into me and I moaned as I pulled away.

“Shower?” I squeaked out.

“Well now you have to give me a minute.” Joel groaned and pushed his hair off his face. “If Syd or Roy ever see me with a rock hard boner we’ll have to move out and never see them again.”

“Ok.” I tried really hard not to look at his rock hard boner. I ended up having to close my eyes as we sat in silence, willing the waves of horniness away. My mind drifted a little. Anal. Anal. Anal isn’t the be all end all.He said that. And that was awesome. We could totally take the edge off without going too far. I opened my eyes. “We do not have to fuck.” I said.

“Let me blow you.” Joel was already sliding off the bed.

“No, baby.” I caught his arm and he looked up at me with big, dark eyes. “No, we need to get each other off.” I pulled him up.

“Yeah, ok.” He grinned and pounced on me. “Love you, Rubes.”

“Love you.” Our eyes closed and our mouths met. We rubbed our bodies against each other, our cocks straining. I reached into his shorts and he grunted as I wrapped my hand around him.

“Yessss.” He groaned. “Fuck, baby.” He fucked my hand gently, “Help me.” He reached for my shirt and we stripped each other slowly, running our hands over each other’s muscles, kissing the exposed skin. He pushed me back against the bed and straddled me, running his hands over my shoulders. He squeezed my pec and smiled as I moaned.

“You like that?’

“Yesssir.” I rolled my hips. Our cocks gently bounced against each other. I handed Joel his lube and he wrapped both hands around us. He closed his eyes and I watched his abs tense as he masturbated us. He was grunting softly, and it was sending sparks through my abdomen. I reached for him, holding his cock in my hand and moaning as it throbbed. We thrust slowly into each others hands.

“Oh…” Joel suddenly looked at me, his neck red. “Oh, shit…” He glanced down and I moaned as he twitched, his cock throbbing with cum, spilling over my hand. I moaned as I watched it, slowing my strokes down and squeezing him. “Shit.” He mumbled. I pursed my lips, and rolled us over, pressing my body to his. I pressed my head to his neck and thrust my hips into his hand.

“Finger me.” I whispered. I was pretty close. I whined as his thumb circled my asshole. It really wouldn’t take much… I moaned and threw my head back. “Joel…” I moaned. He grunted deeply, breaching me in the softest way. He squeezed my hips as I humped his leg. “Joel….” I sighed. I let the tension build up, feeling it all over my body… and I sighed as I felt release. “Joel.” I went limp in his arms.

We lay in silence, his hands gently drifting over the small of my back.

“Jesus, that’s embarrassing.” Joel said eventually. “Two weeks without you and I can’t control myself.”

“Shhh.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “It’s so hot when you cum. Whenever you cum.”

“Phew.” He stroked my ass. “I guess you’re the only person who matters.”

We managed to get up, throw our clothes back on, and shower relatively unobtrusively. Joel grumbled as we returned to his room and inspected the sheets. They probably hadn’t been changed in weeks and I sighed and grabbed some fresh ones. He could be pretty gross sometimes. We made the bed together and he moaned in delight as he pulled me to lie down.

“Fresh sheets.” He nestled into my chest. “We should change them every day, this is lovely.”

“Oh my god no.” I winced. “There’s too much laundry as it is.” There was always too much laundry. I felt Joel shift, go a little stiff. I glanced at him and he sat up. He glanced at the laundry basket, and frowned at me.

“You’re… you’re doing my laundry.”

“Doing our laundry.” I corrected him.

“Well. Stop it.” He scowled at me. “I managed it before you, I’ll manage it now.”

“I was just trying to be helpful.” I pouted. Joel’s mouth went thin.

“Yeah. No, I know.” His face was dark and unreadable.

“Is something wrong?”

“Um.” He stared into the room. “Maybe.”

“Something you wanna talk about?” I nudged him.

“Just…. Don’t take care of me.” He mumbled. “If I want that I’ll ask.”

“Oh… Kay.”

“I’m not him.” He said suddenly. “I’m not like him at all.” I frowned.

Joel had never felt the need to tell me that. I stared at the laundry. I took his hand and took a deep breath.

“About once a week; I do our laundry. About once a week you do our laundry. It’s ok, Joel. We’re partners.”

“I just… I don’t keep track of laundry. You could have been doing it all. I wouldn’t have even noticed.”

“Baby, you would have noticed if the laundry was magically completely disappearing. You’re fucking gross sometimes but you aren’t completely oblivious.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” I squeezed his hand. “I’m not repeating history. You’re not him. At all. And I’m not the guy I was with him. If you never did the laundry I’d probably throw a tantrum.”

“Ok.” He rubbed his face. “I worry.”

“I know.”

I couldn’t stop him worrying. I knew that. But maybe one day he wouldn’t need to.

—- —-

“What are you doing?” Joel mumbled early the next morning. I paused, my breath hitching.

“Ahhhh….”

“Having fun without me.” I could hear his smile. He rolled over and grinned, pinning me down and looking at my stiff cock. “Hmmmm.” He gave me a dark look through half lidded eyes. “Wanna tick off one of those little fantasies?”

“I thought you wanted to wait?”

“Until we weren’t both exhausted and emotionally raw. I’ve just had a fucking good sleep, how are you feeling?” Joel stroked my dick slowly.

“What fantasy?” I blinked. We’d talked small- maybe me amping up the dirty talk- and then we’d also talked wildest, I totally wasn’t ready for them but it made me a little horny anyway fantasies- with ropes, and paddles, and weekends away where one of us would control the others orgasms….

“This one’s mine, and it’s easy.” He winked and leapt up. He returned half a second later, throwing me a vivid. He lay on his front and looked over his shoulder at me. I crawled over to him, and spread his legs, running my hands over him softly.

“Mine.” I grinned.

“Yes, chef.” He mumbled.

“Good.” I arranged him so he was on all fours, gently pushing his ass out as I ran my hands over his thighs.

He mentioned it because I used the word ‘possess’. He said it made his insides bubble. He said he wanted to submit to me. He said one day he wanted me to tie him up and blindfold him and use him all day- but he laughed and told me we’d probably work our way up to that one. He asked if I’d feel ok branding him.

“No?” My eyes widened. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“Oh, not for real.” He said. “Just write on me. Property of Rueben Valentini. I find that so hot. Do you? At all?”

“Jesus.” I moaned. “Where do you come up with these things?” But my dick was telling me that I agreed. It was really hot.

I knelt back and my hands circled his ass, squeezing it gently. He moaned at the gentle touches. I mapped it out across the small of his back with my finger first.

“Ready to become mine?” I whispered, uncapping the pen. My hand was resting on his ass. He moaned softly.

“Yes, chef.” He said quietly.

“Good boy.” I stroked his hair and started writing on him. I grunted as I finished and sat back to admire him. He looked over my shoulder at me. He was flushed and his eyes were steely.

I reached for his lube, kneeling back on the bed and moaning as I spread his cheeks.

“Stay exactly where you are.” I told him. “Don’t move.”

“Heard.”

“Ok.” I moaned. “Fuck you look nice, baby.” I ran my fingers over his hole gently, teasing him. I massaged his taint and caressed his balls, then wrapped my hand around his cock which was throbbing. I played with him like that, my other hand stroking circles over his ass, occasionally brushing my fingers close to his hole. “Such a pretty hole.” I whispered. Joel started to turn his head with a sharp look in his eye. I caught his hair and jerked it back. He gasped. “I said stay exactly where you are.” I grunted. “That means don’t move.” I felt him melt. “That’s good.” I pressed on his back, arching it further for me. “Mmmm..” I held him open with both hands, running my thumbs over the rim of his hole.

“Fuck.” He shivered as I spat on his hole, and rubbed it into his rim, mingling with the lube.

“You’re a good boy.” I crooned, one hand drifting to fondle his dick again. He was breathing heavily. “Fuck I love this hole. You’re perfect, baby.” My hands were switching slowly, one on his ass at all times, keeping it spread, and one gently fingering him: pressing in one finger every so slowly and moaning, leaving it there, reaching for his prostate and just gently pressing on it. His legs were shaking. “You like this?” I asked. “You like being handled like this? Like my sweet little slave? You like it when I wrap my hands all over my property?” I started to pump him harder, just with one finger, while I cradled his dick and balls, rubbing my palm over them. “Oh you LOVE this.” I moaned.

“Yeah.” He panted. He was trembling and dripping with sweat, despite how little he’d actually moved. I chuckled and leapt up, pressing my dick against him. I gripped his hips as I humped my ass. “Please…” I heard him beg.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m gonna fuck you.” I moaned. “I’m just gonna tease you first, baby. Fuck, you make me so horny. Can you feel how hard I am for you?” I gently manipulated his hips, pulling him back gently like I was actually taking him. I ground myself against him. “That’s it.” I sighed, cupping his ass. “You want me so bad.”

“Yeah.” He whimpered. “Rueben… Rubes…”

“Fuck, it’s so hot when you moan my name.” My dick twitched against him. “Hmmm, I don’t know how long I can wait for this.”

“Rubes…” he threw my head back. If he kept playing it up like this I’d have to stop teasing before I lost it.

“Good boy. You need this don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, baby.” I tapped my hard cock on his hole.

“Baby, for fucks sake…” He glared over his shoulder and I laughed. I caught his chin and gently turned his head back.

“Now, baby, calm down. If you want my cock you’ll be soft and obedient for me. Won’t you?” He moaned, gyrating his hips to feel my cock against him. I thrust my hips lazily, letting my cock slide between his cheeks which were slippery with lube. “Won’t you?” I tightened my grip on his hips.

“Yes, sir. Yes chef. Whatever you want.” He moaned.

“Oh gooood boy.” I parted his cheeks and we both whimpered as I finally impaled him. I was still going slow and gentle, just thrusting slowly, moaning as I fondled him. “You take me so well.” I moaned. “Your hole was made for me.” I sped up fractionally. “You feel so good, baby.” My hand went to his dick and he started to shake. “This too much, baby?” He let out a cry, but he was thrusting back. He couldn’t seem to get a sentence together, but as he paused for a microsecond I remembered what we’d agreed on.

“Colour.” I panted.

“Green, baby.”

“You’re taking this so well.” I crooned, my own breath going shorter. I pushed his chest into the bed and started moaning as my thrusts grew harder, longer, faster. “Who’s hole is this?” I hissed.

“Yours, Rueben.”

“Say my name.”

“Rueben. Valentini..”

“That’s right, baby, who owns you?”

“You do, Rubes.”

“Fuck yes.” I grunted. One hand squeezed his dick hard, the other gripping his ass. I shoved my dick so far in he almost lost his balance. I panted, desperately imagining my cum burying itself deep inside him. Really claiming him. Changing his DNA.

—

It didn’t take long for me to have the first wave of ‘what the hell is wrong with you?’. But we’d planned for that. I sat in Joel’s lap and we drank coffee and talked about things. How I felt, how he felt, what worked, what didn’t. We talked about next time, and that Joel wanted to top me again soon if that was ok. I wasn’t quite ready to be tagged as someone’s property- but I did love it when he fucked me.

“Is it going to be boring for you if it’s more vanilla?”

“Making love to you is never boring.” He smiled. “Are you actually ok with switching? Or are you just doing it for me?”

“No.” I leant against him. “I truly love it both ways, and until you I had no idea. Thanks, Joel.”

“Thanks for trying it.” He squeezed me tight. “Are you ready for breakfast? Then a gym session maybe?” He kissed my shoulder.

“Hmmm…. I wanted to try that new place near Bunnings… Chard? Do you wanna go out for brunch?” I asked him.

“Oh yeah, that’s Tom’s new place? We should really do dinner there, I fucking hate brunch. Overpriced eggs and sautéed greens and expensive granola…”

“You just described our menu.”

“Yeah, I’m a sellout.”

“Dinner then.” I got up. “Fuck. Would that be a date?! We’ve never been on a date!” Joel saw the panic in my eyes and joined me in getting ready, pulling the sheets up and making the bed

“Let’s pretend we’re critics. Or that we’re snooping on him to steal his recipes.” He grinned. “Take photos of the wine list. See if he’s got his hands on anything rare and funky and get the supplier.”

“I am interested in the wine list.”

“Naturally.” He yawned. “Speaking of overpriced granola, I have a batch past its best. You make us more coffee, I’ll make sure that hasn’t gone mouldy.”

“Ok.”

We ate, and headed to the gym.

Joel really pushed me these days. I was lifting almost as much as him. He did it because he loved it, and I could see his happiness in sharing something he loved with someone he loved.

The results obviously delighted him as well, but he never seemed to look at me any differently no matter what my body did. He’s always had the same intensity. Always a warmth and a desire behind his eyes. So I felt ok to show off, sometimes, because I didn’t think he’d mind that much if I had an accident and couldn’t train for weeks, or decided I didn’t want to. He thought I was the hottest thing on earth- but it wasn’t my body. It was something beyond that.

—–

Chard was very welcoming to us. Tom Dubois and Joel were old friends and I wasn’t exactly new to the scene. We didn’t have a booking and we probably should have, but some magic hand waving happened and we were ushered to a table. A waiter was always nearby whenever our drinks got low and extra dishes kept showing up with a wink.

“Man, we should really go out more often.” I mumbled to Joel. “Do you get this service everywhere?”

“I think it’s probably US.” He laughed. “People will think this is a recce.”

“Well, it’s not NOT a recce.” I critically admired the chic sage green velvet and natural pine everywhere. Nice fit out.

The food was all vegan. Small sharing plates. Lots of mushrooms and brassicas and grains- trendy plant based umami flavours with a Vietnamese French flair. The cocktail list was strong- very fruity for me, but they knew what ‘cocktail people’ like and threw the classics there as well. The wine list was underwhelming if cool- cheap, crunchy and natural. Nothing I didn’t know already.

“Inspired?” I asked Joel. He shrugged.

“It’s fantastic.” He said, tasting the sauces and thinking about it. “I swear he uses bouillon. He’s very good at this. Plant based is sort of dying as a trend though. I hope he can stay open.”

“Plant based still seems trendy?”

“It is right now, which means it won’t be in a couple of years.” Joel said. “No one can afford to eat ethically these days. People still want to. But they’re gonna do it through vegetable boxes and the reduced to clear bins at supermarkets. This kind of thing will be on the way out. But the whole industry is fucked.” He gently tore apart a dumpling, inspecting the insides. “The dumb thing is, people still want to eat out, they’ll always want to. Good ingredients cost good money though. People don’t get that. I’m worried it’ll only be bland corporate places surviving.”

“So…. you really don’t want to open your own place?” I asked.

“Of course I do! I’ve been tweaking the menu for years.” Joel laughed. “I have a business plan. I even have the staff in mind. I need capital- and I’m also struggling with the idea of leaving a very steady and comfortable income just for my own ego.”

“What sort of food?”

“Peasant food.” He smiled at me. “None of this tiny bullshit small sharing tapas wank. If I never have to tweeze a single herb it’ll be too soon. I wanna find an old fashioned dark wooden room with nooks everywhere. The wine list will be ridiculous. Pages long. I’ll get a somm in obviously. We’ll do piles of sourdough with garlic butter, stews, hand rolled pastas, ratatouille, shakshuka- I mean; the main meal will dictate the rest of the menu- so it’ll be more Mediterranean some days and more Middle Eastern other days…. ‘Nightshades’, I was thinking of calling it- unless that’s dumb.”

“I like it.” I smiled at him. “You’ll still have to tweeze herbs though, unless you drastically change your plating style.”

“Part of me just wants to dump it all in big Temuka bowls.” He grinned. “But you’re probably right.”

“Tomato based menu?”

“Oh… I guess.” He laughed. “People go on about the potato as the staple of the working class but they’re really sleeping on tomatoes.”

“And you’re not calling it ‘Beefsteak’?” I teased, squeezing his thigh.

“Roma.” He suggested. “After my Italian sommelier…”

“Ahhhhh, so you’re roping me into this?”

“I can’t do it without you!” He grinned at me. “Well, we can workshop the name. We doing dessert?”

“I’m absolutely stuffed.”

“Me too.” He yawned and finished his drink. “Down the middle?” He asked after our plates were whisked away.

“Yep.” We stood up and he reached into his pocket. His face fell. He patted himself down and looked at me awkwardly.

“Scratch that…. Massive, massive IOU?”

“You can get the next one.” I laughed at him.

“Well, well, well.” Tom took over the till in his whites. “Look who managed to drag themselves in.” He and Joel greeted each other with a clap on the shoulder. Tom nodded at me with a smile. “Business meeting?” He laughed.

“This one’s all pleasure.” Joel smiled. “Hey, love this, dude.” He gestured around the room before leaning in and glancing over his shoulder. “What do you put in the stock? That has to be fish right?”

“Trade secret! But no, no secret hidden meat around here.”

“I’ll give you my fennel oil recipe.”

“I don’t believe you.” Tom grinned. Joel laughed. “Na, it’s actually just a vegan bouillon, I think I use like the first search result from reddit.”

“Yeah I don’t do anything different from what a google search would give you for my infusions either.” Joel shrugged. “Guess we’re both hacks.”

“Did you enjoy everything else? How’s the wine list Rueben?”

“It’s perfect, your price point is spot on.” I smiled. “Loads of good Australian stuff- you’re sleeping on Japan though, majorly good organics coming out. Here…” I scribbled a supplier down on a bit of paper. “Ask Hanna.”

“Thanks.” Tom smiled and ushered us away from the till as other people came up to pay. “What are your plans tonight?” He asked us. “Daryl is taking on the close so Tash and I were gonna head to Goblin Tom’s wine bar, you wanna join?” Joel glanced at me and I shrugged.

“Yeah, that sounds fun.” I smiled. Fun wasn’t the perfect word- it also sounded full on and overwhelming. But it didn’t not sound fun. I felt like widening the circle of faces I saw wasn’t a bad thing. Joel took my hand and traced circles with his thumb. I leant my head on his shoulder.

“Oh fuck. I left my wallet at home.” He groaned. “Too much to ask, Rubes?”

“Yeah, sure, baby.” I squeezed his hand. Tom’s face twitched a fraction- his eyes widening and his eyebrows raising. He scanned the two of us, but he hid it pretty well. “Better settle up this one anyway.” I headed back to the till.

“Nope!” Tom tried to stop me. “No way! Not for you two.”

“What, no!” Joel protested. “Dude we came to SUPPORT you!”

“You don’t even have your wallet.” Tom laughed. I reached the front of the line and the cashier smiled awkwardly at me, looking between me and her boss. He reached over and tapped the screen.

“There. It’s gone.” He said.

“Tom!” Joel chided him.

“When you open your place you can get me back.” He smiled.

“We’ll both be 90 by the time that happens.” Joel sighed.

“Well, accounting for inflation, sounds like I’m getting one super expensive free meal.”

“I hate you. I am so getting you back.” Joel grumbled. “We’ll head over to Tory Street, see you soon.”

“Bye!” Tom grinned and waved us out the door. Joel paused and stretched as we stepped outside. I shivered in the sudden cold and he offered me his coat. I rolled my eyes. I took it though.

“Huh.” He tapped his foot. “Tory Street.”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna bail?” He asked quietly. I sighed.

“No. Wellington is tiny. I’m gonna see him one day. And anyway, it’s right down the other end. And… to be honest if I…did run into him- I’d… I’d rather you were with me.” I put my hands in my pockets. “Sorry, that’s pathetic.”

“That’s really brave.” He said. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright” He smiled. “Let’s go.”

—- —–

“Howdy there, lads.” Other Tom, Tom Fielding- commonly known as ‘Gobin Tom’ in hospo circles- looked up from the bar and beamed at us. “Join the party!” He gestured to the room, which was stacked with people I knew vaguely from their own restaurants and various wine trainings I’d done. “And a massive congrats to you both.”

“Congrats?” Joel sat us down at the bar. “Why?”

“Felix awards noms are out, have you not checked?” Tom grinned. “You’re in for a treat.” I smiled at Joel. He was the incumbent for Outstanding chef. Felix awards are really more of a hospitality popularity competition in Wellington than an actual metric of talent- but they can really get your name out there. I’d never even been nominated, but Ponga was probably up for something: Lydia and Marty had a habit of opening award winning joints.

Joel got out his phone and I peered over his shoulder. Oh fuck. We were up for heaps. Maria for Barista, Joel for Outstanding Chef again- naturally, Outstanding Front of House team, Charlie for Emerging Chef, Outstanding Wine, Outstanding Ambiance, Outstanding Restaurant and…

“Look at you!” Joel grinned. I blinked and reread the finalists. Supreme Award- Individual. Rueben Valentini.

“Huh?” I stared at him.

“Told you.” Tom grinned. “You guys have really done something special.”

“It’s the Whistler/Deans touch.” Joel rolled his eyes. “Well, so they’d have you believe. Rubes! Congrats!”

“Well, you too!”

“What’s are we drinking boys? It’s one free for every nominee.”

“No!” I laughed. “Tom, you need our money.”

“Oh I’m just giving you a hit so you buy more.” He laughed. “Beer?” He starting pouring Joel a pint before Joel even confirmed. “Oh, and the Emido Pepe for you Rueben.”

“No, just the house red!” I protested quickly.

“Would you look at that?” Tom cracked the bottle before I could stop him. “This IS our house red!”

“Thank you.” I mumbled, wincing as the $40 glass was placed in front of me.

“So. You.” Tom glared at Joel. “Where have you been?! Used to see you here three times a week!”

“Yeah, you’ve been replaced by someone prettier.” I heard Lara’s voice shout over the crowd and I smiled at her in acknowledgment.

“Someone prettier?!” Tom guffawed. “Puh-lease.” He grinned. “Who’s the lovely lady?” He asked Joel. “We expecting her tonight?”

“Ah…” Joel smiled. He gestured to me with his thumb. “Word travels slow I guess.”

“You…” Tom frowned as he looked between us. He shook his head. “Well. I’ll be damned. That’s beautiful. How did it happen? Rough night and you worked off the stress over the pass?”

“Something like that.” Joel winked as I turned red.

“Alright. Fuck off with the other industry cunts for a bit while I serve the real customers.” Tom waved us away.

We went to sit with the others, to endless congratulations. I knew most people, but Joel knew EVERYONE. I sat quietly, practicing being normal and rehearsing a quick introduction in my head in case anyone decided to try and talk to me.

“I’ve missed you!” Jules from Ortega nudged my shoulder. “We have Sophia working for us- you remember her?”

“Oh, of course.” An old floor supervisor who was running their bar now. “She’s good? How’s her dancing?”

“Oh, she drives us crazy.” Jules laughed. “Dashing off to rehearse shows every other week. Irreplaceable though. You really trained her well. I remember she applied for us years ago and her trial shift was a fucking mess. You find diamonds in the rough don’t you?”

“You took on Georgie!” Andrew from Sirius leaned over. “We told her shape up or ship out- she shipped out, and we were served by her the other night- absolute class act! She said to my face you were the best manager she’d ever had, Rueben. Don’t know how you do it.”

“Oh George was in a rough place back then!” I laughed. “She’s great, we’re really lucky to have her.”

The drinks kept coming- I tried to keep up with the tab but I still felt like Tom was being overly generous. Maybe if I ever had my own place I would be the same though. Trickles of people from various venues came and went. Joel was having a great time- joking with everyone, cajoling them into rounds of ‘for he’s a jolly good fellow’. I’d never seen him in his element like this. It was starting to feel a bit weird. I felt like maybe I’d been holding him back.

“Slipping out for a dart.” I whispered into his ear.

“Join you in a sec.” He kissed my neck casually as I headed out. I heard a few hollers, and I heard him shutting everyone up, and then I heard nothing as the door clanged behind me and I stepped outside to take a deep breath.

I’d been practicing not falling down a mental doom spiral, so I sat down and stared at the street. Instead of letting the thought that Joel turned out to be the world’s most social butterfly and he was probably so bored with just seeing my stupid face everyday… I caught it. That’s insecurity. I told myself. Hi insecurity. Can’t say it’s nice to see you again. I stared out onto the street, watching the cars and the people.

I heard it first. Not something I’d ever actively paid attention to, but I guess I knew it. AJ’s footsteps. His clacky expensive shoes. They were echoing on the concrete in the quiet of the late night. I glanced up.

He was across the street; illuminated by the dairy next to him, glowing faintly green from the neon signs. I couldn’t really make out his face. Just his silhouette. Everything suddenly felt very tense. He paused. He stepped into the light of a street lamp and our eyes met.

I didn’t have time to read him because the door behind me opened and a crowd of people spilled out beside me, bringing warmth and jollity. They crowded around me, talking about wine and food and people. Joel was there and his arm was around me. I blinked. I looked up. He was gone.

—- —- —- 4.

A couple of days later I was coming in for the mid shift after a night at Mum and Dad’s. They’d mentioned maybe, if I was staying long term, paying a little bit of board, and I awkwardly asked how they’d feel about me moving in with Joel. Not that Joel and I had actually properly talked about it- but I kind of knew, deep down, that he was waiting for me. If I said I wanted to move in he would have half the closet cleared in about five minutes, and a giant smile on his face.

They hadn’t MET Joel- chef’s hours being what they are- but they’d seen him. He picked me up sometimes and gave them a cheery wave. Mum and Dad sort of exchanged serious looks and said while I was an adult and they couldn’t stop me from doing anything, they’d feel safer if he’d at least have dinner once, and I couldn’t really argue with that. I wanted them to meet him too. I think if I knew they thought he was alright certain residual doubts might be easier to manage. So that was parked for a bit longer.

Joel met me at the door and put his hands on my shoulders.

“Don’t stress, ok?” He said. My cortisol levels spiked.

“Ahhh…. Being told preemptively not to stress is really not helping with my stress.” I laughed. “Oh fuck, what is it?”

“Ok, so the advance copy of Cuisine arrived.” Joel fiddled with a strand of my hair.

“We’re not in it?”

“Kind of… the opposite of that…” He winced. “We’re… pretty heavily featured.”

“Oh. Why?” I frowned. He closed his eyes in the tiniest half a second micro expression of total exasperation.

“Because we are brilliant, we are young, and we are a talented hot LGBTQ couple in an industry that’s on its knees.”

“Gotcha.” I laughed. “Oh, ok.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Ah… I mean. That’s kind of cool? What is it, like a three page spread?”

“Ye-ah…” Joel took my hand and led me inside, where Lydia and Marty were seated with Champagne. She whistled at me and waved her lacquered fingertips. “Just to be clear; this is really fucking cool, Rubes. I just know how you feel about any kind of attention at all.” Joel squeezed me.

“It’ll be fine.” I waved him off as I put on my Effective Restaurant Manager face for the bosses. His eyebrows raised. But really, it would be fine. He was right- how cool was it that we were featured in such a massive publication? My parents would be stoked! And if I you know… stayed the path and went off on my own someday, this kind of thing wouldn’t hurt. I’d probably need investors and…

My stomach twisted a bit as Lydia flapped the magazine in my face. I glanced at Joel, who had a shit eating ‘I told you so’ grin on his face.

Oh. The COVER. We were on the fucking COVER.

It was a candid shot that someone must have taken while we thought Lydia and Marty were talking. We were standing outside, looking into each other’s eyes as we laughed, framed by the wild roses that grew up the brick outside. They’d edited out our cigarettes. “Chefs, Communication, Companionship: the new faces of New Zealand Cuisine”.

“Woah.” I took the champagne Lydia shoved in my hand. Joel touched my shoulder.

“Are you going to die?” He asked seriously. I looked at the glossy paper.

“That’s a really nice photo.” I said slowly.

“It’s LOVELY.” Lydia cooed. “Oh we’ve done SUCH a good job.”

“Good hustle.” Marty nodded at me. “Well earned. This will open doors for you.” He clinked his glass against mine.

—

I quietly asked if I could take it home to Mum and Dad. Everyone melted a little, in a saccharine way. I would have been embarrassed about that once, but I was busy thinking about how excited they’d be.

“Oh shoot. Talking of Mum and Dad-” I caught Joel before he left, “ummmm. You wouldn’t be free to come over for dinner sometime?” Joel’s eyes started to sparkle.

“YES!” He responded. “When? We’re both off on Monday night yes? Does that work?”

“Probably, I’ll check.”

“What do they like? What can I make?”

“Oh, Mum can cook.”

“Absolutely not!” Joel shook his head. “No, I’m giving them the full experience. I’ll cook- ” He paused. “Assuming that’s ok…” He cleared his throat. “But I want to, if it is. I’m desperate to impress Signore and Signora Valentini.”

“That’s Mr. Williams and Signora Valentini.” I corrected him.

“Oooh you took your mum’s last name? That’s fun.” Joel laughed.

“She says Rueben Williams sounded like a dentist.” I smiled.

“Yeah fuck that guy, I’m glad I got you.”

“Me too.”

— — —

My schedule was filling up. I went from nothing- ever- to band practice twice a week, and quiz night when I could make it, and in the next couple of weeks I had Joel coming over to meet the family, and the Felix awards, and a gig. It didn’t look so bad when I put it on a calendar, but it was pretty overwhelming anyway. Carl helped. One thing at a time.

Mum was a bit confused about Joel wanting to cook for them.

“Do you want us to go to his?” She asked. As if I was going to invite my parents into Joel’s grotty flat.

“No, he wants to come over- but he wants to cook for you.” I explained for the third time. “Mum, Ponga has three Hats. Joel got that. That’s almost a Michelin Star.” I poked his face on the cover of Cuisine. “Food is how he expresses love. He wants to show you.”

“Ahhh.” She nodded. “Ok. Fine. But it’s how I express love too.”

“Mama, I know.” I gave her a hug. “Why do you think I fell for him? You can cook next time when he’s not shitting himself.”

“I’ll do dessert.”

“I’ll tell him.”

Having offered to cook, Joel was suddenly completely incapable of creating a menu.

“Joel!” I slammed my hand on the pass. “Fucking. Garnish. This. Fucking. Steak.”

“Sorry.” He blinked. “Shit.” He sighed. “Do your parents like falafel?”

“Oh my god, my parents will eat rotting kale and pretend they like it if you’re nice! Fucking focus!”

“Heard.” He coughed. “I’m genuinely more concerned about them liking me than…”

“Baby, if you don’t shut up and get through service there won’t be a meeting my parents.”

“Ok, ok. Heard, chef. Truly.” Joel mimed zipping his lips shut and managed to get through service.

He decided on fish pie, eventually. And naturally it was the best fish pie I’d ever tasted. He trialled it at work, pretending it was a potential new menu item.

“You really shouldn’t take advantage of your position like this.” I mumbled to him as I tasted it.

“And a yellow zucchini, radicchio, geeen apple salad with a lemon vinaigrette…” he blinked. “Look, we had the line caught snapper anyway, I just needed to make sure the recipe was ok.”

“I really wouldn’t have guessed your thing was peasant food.”

“I grew up on hangis, baby. I lived off cheap grains and vegetables that grow anywhere. You have to admire the sheer tenacity of easy to farm food…” he trailed off. “Will they like it?”

“They will love it.” I kissed his cheek. “Please don’t go to all this trouble every time.”

“First impressions count.” His mouth settled into a tiny worried frown.

—-

“Oh, he is so handsome!” My mum whispered loudly at me after Joel had charmed the pants off her by admiring her bookshelf and asking all about the artwork in the hallway.

“He’s ok.” I joked.

“Does he need help? Paul, go see if Joel needs help.” Mum snapped at Dad. Dad looked at me and slowly put down the paper. He’d been a bit less enthused, a bit less charmed, and very reserved. I hopped up and went to top up Joel’s wine.

“Dad’s gonna offer to help.” I kissed his neck. “Just let him ok? That way he’s out of Mum’s hair for a bit.” I smiled at Joel. His face drained of almost all colour. “No, Dad’s the easy one.” I giggled. “You already won with Mum, don’t worry.” Joel nodded.

“Yeah thanks.” He mumbled.

I went to sit with Mum and we nibbled on crackers and sipped on Rosé while my ears strained. Dad was laughing. Thank god. He wasn’t the easy one at all. Which I knew Joel knew, because I still hadn’t mastered the art of convincing lies.

By the end of dinner they were both in love with him. The food was good, of course, but I think it was the way he looked at me that did it. The way he offered to do the dishes and I argued with him since he’d cooked. The interest he showed in what Mum and Dad did for work. His dumb jokes. The way he begged mum for her limoncello recipe. His authenticity. He was very proper, and didn’t stay after 9, shaking my parents hands and kissing me on the cheek before heading home.

Dad squeezed my shoulder. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

— — — —

I hadn’t played to a real crowd for over a year. That felt like a really long time. I missed it. I missed the outlet- and maybe even the spotlight, sometimes.

Technicolour Pachyderms were… I mean we were almost kind of awesome these days. Roy had managed to rope in one of the higher ups from his office on bass- he was slightly older and didn’t take it very seriously, but he knew what he was doing. With Blake’s vocals and the pretty technical ability of the rest of us, we were developing a cool proggy sound. Enough to get us gigs obviously.

The crowd was always decent at San Fran Bath House. We were one of a few completely unknown bands on that night so it skewed young- but, being so cheap, it seemed like the 9-5ers were out as well. Roy took rehearsals very seriously and our short set had been perfect for a couple of weeks now. We were taking turns coaching- I felt a bit awkward while we were starting to get serious, like I was way overstepping every time I made a correction or tried suggesting something new- but I think he was happy he had a co pilot. Trying to move into gigs and recording after years spent bumming around with his brother gave him a shiny energy. He took the reins really well. I told him if he did get laid off from Policy he had a job waiting for him.

“As if I could ever work for Joel.” He snorted. “His reputation precedes him.”

“He’s a million times nicer.” I promised. “We had our first cold caller desperate to work with him the other day.”

“He reckons it’s all you.” Roy raised his eyebrows. “Is it?”

“He always had it in him.” I grinned. “Anyway, you’d be working for me.”

“That, I would consider.”

— —

Backstage was a flurry of cool young people getting high and drunk and somehow still sounding amazing on stage. I’d forgotten I’d have to be social and pleasant to be around- which was probably good. Phantom stress, Carl called it. I carried it all the time- practising conversations and worrying about what could go wrong. Being thrown in the middle of things without a warm up was a different kind of stress- I got hot and weird, but it flared up and died down quickly. I found that asking a lot of questions always helped. Then we were talking about them and as long as I stayed interested I didn’t have to worry about me so much, and if I was up to the cool standard, and if I was about to embarrass myself utterly. It had been so long! I never used to get stage fright! But I also used to play in a suit at the back and while I knew I could make or break a piece- the audience usually didn’t. This was different.

But from the second we stepped on stage I knew it would be fine. My face lit up. I could see Joel in the front which anchored me, and I blew him a kiss as I sat down and rearranged the kit. The problem with gigs like this is it’s hours between your sound check and everyone before you has a different way of doing things- but the techs were used to adjusting on the fly. I could see, even under the lights, that Joel was seriously checking me out. Roy had singlets made with a design his friend had mocked up for us. The kind of thing I wouldn’t even wear to the gym because you could see too much of me. Blake told me it looked hot, in the salacious way only very straight men secure in their sexuality can. So… I kind of felt hot.

I felt really hot when we played. The crowd was awesome, and gave us so much. The set was super tight. For the first time ever- I felt like a rockstar. Playing with a band just made you feel so cool, you know? I was really riding a high as I stood up to take my bow, and even after packing up and slipping into the floor the cheers were ringing in my head.

“You weren’t joking.” Joel pressed me into him. I was sweaty and sticky and tired but I could definitely use a few drinks. “You. Are. So. HOT.” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling us both into a single bar stool as he kissed me. Thank fuck it was dark, my body reacted instinctively. “And talented.” He mumbled, as an afterthought.

We stumbled to the bar after a make out session that I had to break up because I was going to die of shame if anyone we knew caught us. The bar tender snapped his fingers.

“Sticks!” He grinned. “I wondered what you got up to these days!”

“Oh, hey! Marc- this is Joel, my boyfriend. Joel this is Marc, we used to play together in NYO- violin- wow, how are you? What are you doing?” Marc looked Joel up and down frostily.

“Actually, I’ve taken over 1st from Gerald Huffman in Allegro- have you heard of it?”

“Oh, cool!” There were a few places to play when you were an elite musician and missed out on the big gig of the NZSO. You could play in the city orchestra, or find a community group- or join something like Allegro which went round to schools- performing and training with the kids for a couple of weeks to put on a show for the parents. It was pretty casual- certainly not full time year round work, but it had been a breeding ground for some notable success stories. “Congrats. I’ve always thought the best people somehow drift to Allegro.”

“Well. Actually. Speaking of the best people, there are auditions next month. Will you be interested?” Marc glared at Joel again. “Assuming that’s ok with you.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. Joel’s friendly smile was fading. “I seem to remember there were doubts about Rueben’s schedule.” Marc folded his arms. Joel sighed with relief and shook his head.

“You have the wrong guy.” He wrapped his arm around me. “You’re thinking of his ex.”

“OH!” Marc grinned “You got rid of him?”

“Yeah.” I mumbled

“Oh so you’re actually free to join then?! Fuck yeah, Sticks! Here, give me your email and I’ll talk to Allan, the conductor… ”

Marc and I caught up a bit. I’d missed music talk. Roy and Blake were awesome to play with and ended up being really close friends- but we were a band. We didn’t talk about theory. We didn’t talk about composition. Joel didn’t have much to say, but he engaged where he could, and managed not to seem too bored, which I thanked him for when we moved back to circling the room looking for my band.

“Don’t thank me! I’m hanging out with you!”

“Boring though?”

“It’s never boring hearing you talk about something you’re into.” He smiled. “Speaking of which, I was thinking. You know you’ll have to get on stage and do a speech at Felix right?”

“I won’t win.”

“There are five awards that YOU are nominated for. There is no way you won’t win one of those.”

“There’s just one?”

“No: there’s your one, then wine- that’s you, then best front of house team- that’s you, then restaurant- that’s us I guess, then ambience and design- that’s Lydia really but she never goes to Felix so that’s on you to make a speech.”

“Kurt can do it, he’ll be thrilled.”

“Rubes.” Joel stopped us and pulled me out onto the balcony where the din was quieter. “All you have to do is go up. Say wow, this is so exciting, thanks everyone and thanks in particular to my amazing team who make everything feel smooth.”

“I…” I could feel it already. All those eyes. Staring. Judging.

“How do you get up on stage?” Joel stroked my hand. “You rocked it tonight! Practically shirtless- how’s that ok?”

“Well, I’m at the back and I don’t have to talk.” I shrugged.

“Well, how do you manage the floor then? You have to talk to hundreds of strangers every week and make them feel like you love them. What do you do?”

“I dunno. I just put on a face.” I shrugged.

“Ok. So put on a face for the speech.” Joel nudged my shoulder.

“Kurt would genuinely love to…”

“Baby.” Joel sighed. He lit a cigarette as he thought about what he wanted to say. “Kurt did not write the wine lists. He didn’t build the front of house team. He isn’t you. I really think you should accept the awards.”

“Well. We might not win.” I smiled.

“Yeah, but maybe you can practice just in case?”

—–

“Tēnā rawa atu koe, tēna rawa atu koutou…” I bit my lip, hearing my voice waver. “I feel stupid.” I looked at Joel. He pursed his lips and glanced at Syd and Roy.

“That’s why we’re practicing.” He sighed. “And um. I dunno. Maybe ditch the Te Reo Māori?”

“You always lead with Te Reo?”

“Babe, I hate to play the race card but that’s because I am Māori.” Joel shrugged. “Your accent is…” He paused, thinking.

“Oh don’t even try to be nice.” I sighed. “I hate this.”

“Try it again.” Syd smiled encouragingly. “But Joel’s right, skip Te Reo.”

“Ok.” I took a deep breath. “I’d like to thank…” I trailed off. “You know, if we do win, I’ll just wing it.”

“Terrible idea.” Roy snorted. “Rubes you’re not really a ‘wing it’ guy.”

“No, I am. Joel said to act like when I’m running the floor, and that’s winging it all night.”

“Run through it just once?” Joel said.

“I know!” Syd made a spinning motion with his hand. “Turn around. Do it to the wall first.”

“Oh….kay.”

“It’s a public speaking thing.” He said. I shrugged and turned around.

“I feel extra stupid.” I said to the wall.

“Do it once and I’ll show you the surprise I have in my bedroom.” Joel said.

“Noooooooo.” I could hear Syd and Roy covering their ears and groaning.

“Ok.” I sighed. “Wow! It’s so cool to be in a room filled with so much talent. It makes me feel so proud about our industry. I need to give a massive thank you to the crew at Ponga. You all hold yourselves to excellence at all times and it’s down to every single one of you that we’re up here tonight. Thank you.” I heard the guys cheering and banging the table. I turned around and winced, sinking into my chair.

“No do the ‘you’ one.” Joel grinned as he finished clapping.

“You said ONE!” I protested. “And that’s all I need to say for any of them.”

“Don’t make it about the crew at Pongakawa if YOU win.” Joel winced.

“But they’re the reason I look any good?”

“No…” A flash of annoyance rose up in Joel’s face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re the reason they look good.” He sighed.

“That’s not true at all….”

“Oh my fucking god how are you like this?” Syd got up to get more beer. “Fuck. Joel mentioned you were self deprecating but this is unbearable.” He called over his shoulder. Roy and Joel glanced at each other.

“I would say… challenging at times, not unbearable.” Roy said softly.

“Deeply in denial but not beyond hope.” Joel smiled at me.

“Ignore Syd, he’s still learning times tables, he doesn’t know about emotions yet.” Roy nudged me.

“I’m not going to break into a million pieces because of some criticism.” I folded my arms. “You don’t need to be so….”

“Thoughtful?” Joel suggested.

“Nice?” Roy raised his eyebrows. “Aware that bro gets moody and a fraction too reflective when people call him things like ‘unbearable’ and trying to break that spiral before it starts?” I blinked at him.

“Did I miss a seminar on how to read and respond to situations like a mature adult on my 21st birthday or something?” I shook my head. Syd returned, tossing us all a beer. “Thanks.” I muttered to Roy.

“Ok, again!” Syd grinned. “Face us this time, but you can sit down and hold your beer.”

“You said one!” I moaned to Joel.

“Ok, well I said I’d SHOW you the surprise. How about if you can say a speech facing us we PLAY with the surprise?”

“Please tell me the surprise is a kitten.” Roy groaned, downing his beer.

“Wow! It’s so cool to be in a room filled with so much talent…..” I ran through the speech again, blushing more at Joel deliberately winding his flatmates up than the actual speech. The response was the same- enthusiastic cheering and banging on the table. I started to laugh.

“Ok, you’re getting so good!” Syd said. “One more, stand up though. Just a real quick one standing up looking at us.”

“Do I have to?”

“I’ll let you decide….” Joel started to say with a twinkle in his eye and I leapt up and wrapped my hand over his mouth.

“I’ll do one more if you shut up, how’s that?” I kissed the top of his head. I cleared my throat and did the speech one more time. I felt a lot more relaxed. Even though it was just the three of them, it had still felt awkward and embarrassing the first time. I smiled at Syd as I sat down.

“Thanks. Maybe you can give me some more tips closer to the time.”

“I also dread public speaking.” He put out his hand to fist bump me. “You’ll do great.”

“I might not have to do anything.”

—- —

We had dinner together, drank for a bit, and then it was late and we all had work so we retreated to our bedrooms. I was curled up around Joel, talking about nothing in particular when he leant over to his bedside table and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

“Oh, you were serious.” I looked at them.

“Me or you?” Joel grinned at me. I gestured to him to give me the pair and frowned as I fiddled with them.

“So you adjust them like this…” He showed me. I shuffled up on the bed so he was sitting next to me and I put his wrist through one, to see how it fit.

“Ok. And then?”

“Unlock here, lock like so, safety catch here.” He demonstrated. He unlocked himself and I picked up his hand, inspecting them.

“Unlock…” I glanced at him. “Lock.” I moved before he could get a grip on me, gently pushing his arm back against the headboard and tethering him to it.

Joel rattled his arm and sighed. He cleared his throat. His face started to turn pink. I smiled at him and ran my hand over his chest, watching as his dick as it started to plump up.

“Looks like I’m at your mercy, Rubes.” He smiled at me. My dick was getting chubby as well, looking at his long form with his muscles bulging.

“Is that ok?” I ran my hand over his chest. “Colour?”

“Green.” He adjusted his hips a bit, and his free hand drifted down to his cock. I watched him give it a squeeze and he moaned. I gently removed his hand.

“That’s my cock.” I said. “You’re not allowed to touch it without permission.”

“Sorry, sir.” Joel grinned at me. I closed my eyes and spread his legs, shuffling down, trailing kisses over his stomach.

I wrapped my mouth around his dick and we both moaned in pleasure. Sucking Joel’s cock always made me so hard. It felt so good to kneel before him and bring him pleasure. There was never a shred of doubt in my mind that I was amazing at sucking. I never felt even a tiny bit self conscious. I felt hot, and desirable, and like I was bringing him to a state of pleasure no one else could. I felt Joel’s hand tangle in my hair and he thrust his hips gently. I felt his dick throb and his abs start to clench and I drew my mouth away, biting his thighs as started to move.

“Oh, I was close.” He whispered. I glanced up at his wild eyes and messy hair.

“What’s your refractory like?” I ran one hand over his dick, slippery from my mouth, as I reached for some lube. Joel bit his lip, gently humping into my hands.

“Does it matter?” He ran his eyes over me. “If you’re fucking me….” I shook my head.

“No, I’m using you.”

“Oh….” he closed his eyes and his dick throbbed. “Fuck, baby.” He stroked my thigh. “I’ll be good. I won’t cum till you say so.”

Even in horny role playing mode that sounded like a long shot to me. But I’d give it a go. I squeezed his hand and swung myself around, gently wrapping my thighs around Joel’s face.

“Fuck.” He moaned. He kissed my cheeks and I closed my eyes, letting him bring me to the brink of ecstasy. I nuzzled his dick, but I didn’t suck it- I knew how he felt eating me out. He liked to worship me exactly the way I liked to worship him. He was groaning as he made out with my hole, his free hand stroking my thighs.

“Baby…” I sighed, eventually. Both our cocks were hard. He was twitching as I moved away. I was pretty wet, and pretty loose after his love making to my ass but I grabbed the lube anyway and slowly wrapped both my hands around him, watching his face as I stroked his dick. He closed his eyes, his mouth hanging open.

“You gonna last?” I clasped his chin. His eyes flew open.

“Yes, chef.”

“Good.”

He held my hand as I spread my legs and sank down on him.

“Oh fuck, Joel.” I moaned.

“Fuck, Rubes.” He gasped. “You feel so good.”

“Yeah.” I was too overwhelmed. We fucked all the time and still- whenever he entered me, my body sort of melted for a second as I adjusted to him, falling apart around him. Ugh, he felt so good. I moaned as I managed to move my hips, gently.

“Shit.” I heard his breath hitch. It was hard not to smile.

“Don’t you dare cum.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He bit his lip. “Fuck Rueben.” He looked at me- his big, dark eyes taking in my face, and my body, and everything about me. “Oh dude, use me.”

“I am.” I closed my eyes and rode him, directing his hand to my chest; my nipples, my stomach- everywhere, because his touch outside was almost as good as his touch inside. I fucked him so hard, driving myself into his cock and moaning as he hit me right- setting the pace and delighting in controlling his dick.

“Dude…” He whimpered. I bit my lip and wrapped his hand around my own cock.

“I love you.” I whimpered.

“Don’t…” He moaned. “Fuck. Rubes… can I…”

“Oh shit…” I moaned as his dick throbbed inside me. It was so hot it sent me over the edge as well, thinking about Joel, and his thick cock, and the fact I’d just locked him up and forced him to please me….

I whimpered as I fell into his chest and he wrapped his arm around me.

“Hey… honey….” he pressed his lips to my head. “Can you release me?”

“Fuck, sorry!” I sat bolt upright and skirted into his lap as I undid the catch. “You ok?” I rubbed his hand.

“Oh my god. More than ok. Dude. I am your a fucking servant. Oh my god. You own me.” His hands wrapped around me.

“Yeah, ok.” I laughed.

“I love you so much.” Joel pressed his head into my neck.

“I love you too.” I mumbled.

“Good.” He sighed, his breathing slowing. “Rubes…”

“Mmm?”

No good. He was asleep.

— — —

Joel and I didn’t always work the same shifts- both of us had to be overly accommodating with flexibility- people were always making plans and coming and going the first few months of the year. I kissed him goodbye in the morning and saw him briefly at handover at quarter to five and he pecked my cheek.

“Say hi to Paul and Etta.” He muttered.

I usually walked home- town to Mum and Dad’s wasn’t far, and the nights were light at the moment anyway. I just had the weirdest feeling though. Just like a weird gut thing… that… something was off. I caught the bus. I listened to some music and browsed Metal Injection for new releases. I started reading the book that Carl and the eating disorder specialist, Lisa, were trying to shove down my throat. ‘Why does he do that?’ By Lundy Bancroft. It was probably a fraction more than I had meant to get myself into on a bus ride, and I found I was struggling to tear my eyes away. I gnawed on my thumb as I watched for my stop out of the corner of my eye. I thought I saw a black Porsche behind us as we turned and I shivered. It was probably just the book. Making me jumpy.

The word abuse was coming up a lot. A word I had been avoiding. That was such a big word. Such an uncomfortable, traumatic thing. Something that I didn’t think I’d experienced.

AJ was just shitty. He was just shitty and mean. I brought out the worst in him for some reason. Carl had tried to talk to me about it but the conversation went in circles and we agreed to park it until I felt like I could open up a bit more. From time to time other people would use the word abuse and it made my skin crawl. It made me feel like I needed to defend AJ. We were just bad for each other.

But the book… was tapping into some things I was very familiar with. Patterns of behavior. Exertion of control. The author said abuse wasn’t always physical. That there was quite a bit that wasn’t physical but could still be damaging. I got off at my stop, my nose totally buried. I thought I’d been feeling so much better. I thought I’d just managed a bad breakup really well. But I was starting to think maybe this was just the tip of the iceberg. There was probably quite a lot of processing I’d been wrestling to not do.

I frowned as I thought I heard a footstep and paused. I glanced around. Nothing.

“Hey.” I greeted Mum and Dad, thumping my bag down. “Joel says hi. What’s for dinner?” It smelled amazing.

“Leftovers.” Mum yelled from the kitchen. “I’m playing ‘Will it work in a risotto?’.

“Need a hand?”

“No, relax.” She waved a bottle of wine at me and I went to pour it for the three of us. I sat down in the living room and kept reading. Dad was reading the paper. Mum was reading Barbara Kingsolver. There was a knock on the door and none of us moved.

The next knock was louder and Dad sighed. He put down his paper and stared at Mum and I.

“Well, don’t all run at once.” He stood up with a yawn.

He opened the door and there was muffled angry shouting. Mum and I sat up and looked at each other. I frowned. There was a thud, then a yell, and Mum and I both sprinted for the door.

Dad was wincing. He was staring at his knuckles and flexing his hand. And on the ground, clutching a bloody nose, AJ was glaring at me.

“We need to talk.” He hissed. His voice was nasally and I blinked at my dad- my tiny, 54 year old dad who worked for the government- who had apparently- broken AJ’s nose.

“You need to leave.” Dad drew himself up. “NOW.”

“I saw Cuisine.” AJ was getting up, wincing as blood and snot dribbled down his face. “It’s not right, you and him. You deserve better. Someone who can take care of you.”

“Leave or I’ll call the cops.” Dad said.

“Oh that will look so good for you.” AJ scowled, sarcastically. “This is assault! I should call them on you!”

“Go for it.” Dad folded his arms. “Not like you’ve got any nasty secrets you don’t want the cops poking around in.” AJ glared at my Dad and swore at him.

“Darling-” he looked at me, trying to put on his deep syrupy voice.

“No.” I shut him up. “Dad’s right. Fuck off.”

“You fucking clown.” He sighed. “Call me when you realise he’s an abusive piece of shit.”

Dad closed the door quietly and sighed.

“Have we got any Panadol?”

“Darling, sit down.” Mum fussed, pulling him back to his big comfortable chair and pressing his wine into his hands. “Here.” She bustled past me and threw the Panadol at me. I gave it to Dad.

“Sorry.” I mumbled.

“What on earth are you sorry for?” Dad frowned.

“I should have….”

“Shhhhh.” Dad patted my hand. “It’s gonna be ok.” He smiled at me. “I’ve always wanted to punch his smug little face.”

— — —

I didn’t mention it to Joel. I knew I should have. I knew he’d be raging if I found out. But that’s why I didn’t want to mention it. He’d be angry and worried. He was so happy at the moment. We were in such a good place. I didn’t want to fuck all of that up by mentioning that… ah…. My… slightly fucked up ex had… followed me home…

It was probably fine.

—- —- —- 5.

I had skipped the Felix awards for my entire hospitality career. Maybe if I’d ever been nominated I would have tried harder to make it, but AJ thought a big party for industry people was just a drag and a recipe for a three day hangover, regardless of awards.

It wasn’t a BIG deal, but it was a big deal… Some crews sprang for matching outfits. Restaurants were closed for the evening and next morning- or had their C teams on, which actually wasn’t a bad chance for people to step up and develop. When I realised that me and Kurt and Joel and Charlie all would, in theory, be out for the count- I actually offered to work. Joel glared at me.

“That’s not a good look.” Marty winced. “You’re our main man, Rueben.”

So I asked Georgie how she’d feel about it. She sparkled.

“It’s a Sunday?” She confirmed. “It won’t be so, so, so busy will it then?”

“It should be pretty quiet.”

“Do you think I’m…. Able to?” She’d shadowed me and Kurt a bit, but I’d never left her the reigns without one of us nearby.

“Yeah, dude. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t. I don’t even really want to go. I would definitely rather work if I thought I had to.”

“The awards will be so much fun.” She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe next year I’ll go.” She smiled. “This year I’ll make you proud.”

“Thanks, George.”

— —

Lydia had given us all Pongakawa merch to wear. Nice embroidered shirts for the guys and screen printed scarves for the girls, although when she fluttered away I quickly said we wouldn’t enforce a gendered dress code. Joel hated it. I hated it too but it was all part of the business wasn’t it?

“Points for creativity?” I tried to make a game of the enforced dress code on what was meant to be a dress up night. Joel took a scarf and I took a shirt, because I’d never cared what I wore and I wasn’t going to start now, even if I thought it was tacky as hell.

I went over to Joel’s ahead of time to get dressed and get some wine in me so I didn’t have to interact with people stone cold sober. We had the world’s fastest quickie to work off some energy. My shower took longer and my mouth dropped as I walked back into his bedroom.

He. Looked… like a total god. I mean. I knew he was HOT. That was like, an undeniable fact about him. He was hot and pretty and sexy and tall and muscled and dark and handsome but… I guess I mostly saw him in gym clothes or chef whites.

I blinked at Joel as he finished tying the scarf like an ascot.

“You… you own a suit?”

“Yes?” He spun around. “Everyone should have a suit.”

“Apparently.” I admired him. He snapped his fingers.

“Babe, you have to get dressed. We are not on time.”

“Too late to call in sick?” I felt my hands going all clammy.

“Here.” Joel threw something at me. I frowned as I unraveled it.

“Um. This won’t fit me. You’re significantly taller…” I muttered, gently putting the red suit down. It was very cool, and Joel probably looked fucking amazing in it but I knew…

“It’s for you. It’s probably not a perfect fit but there was a sale on at Hallensteins which I know is tacky but it’s less tacky than showing up in jeans…” Joel sighed. “Try it on?”

“What? You got me a suit? Joel! Why?!”

“I think you’ll look hot in it, that’s why.” He started wrestling the Ponga shirt on me. “And I FUCKING KNEW your version of ‘dressing up’ was going to be atrocious.” He poked at the pair of shiny black pants I used to wear to play on stage with his foot.

“How much do I owe you?” I tucked in my shirt and blinked at myself in the mirror. The trousers were a little long and I went to cuff them.

“Leave it, cuffs are lame right now.” He pursed his lips. “Check the jacket?” I put on the jacket. To my surprise it fit perfectly. I winced at my reflection.

“It’s… quite a lot.” I pulled at my collar and ran my fingers through my hair.

“Hmmm.” Joel undid my collar. “Better.” He twisted a strand of my hair around his finger and shrugged. “Eye catching, yeah. You look great.”

“Little bit… 80s Dracula?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Ok, I trust you.”

—- —

I thought there was no way I wouldn’t be standing out in a sea of well fitting black. But actually, I barely made an impact. People were DRESSED UP. In cocktail gowns and velvet suits and sparkles and heels and accessories.

We mingled- with our staff, with people we knew, with new people. We talked to wine reps and managers and cocktail artists and chefs. This was a big show off ‘aren’t we great’ event and Joel was reveling in the energy of the crowd.

Eventually the ceremony started. They start with the big two Supreme Awards, while everyone’s awake I guess. Outstanding Individual and Outstanding Establishment. That first one usually goes to someone at the end of their career, not their beginning like me, so I was happy to relax a bit and let it wash over me. Everyone nominated had been a chef, and front of house, worked in a bunch of places and sharpened their skill set. Most of them were starting their own places, or writing recipe books.

The introduction boasted of the importance of kindness in a changing industry. That new ideas, new faces, and new approaches were going to be key to a restaurant surviving. We needed to adapt in the economy: be brave, look after our staff and customers like family. Lead with love.

“And as anyone who keeps up with my publication will know, love is at the centre of this individual’s approach to all things Hospitality. Rueben Valentini, you have an amazing career ahead of you and I look forward to what you serve us up in the coming years.” I clapped politely and waited for the award to be handed out. Joel elbowed me in the ribs.

“Ow!” I muttered. His eyes widened and he jerked his head.

“Stand up.” He hissed.

“What?”

“That’s YOU. Go and ACCEPT it!”

I blinked at the screen, and saw my name there.

I’d only managed to sit on the nerves because I had absolutely convinced myself there was NO chance I would win. Oh no. And now I’d made everyone wait. I quickly stood up. Deep breaths- hello insecurity, hello fear, hello shame, hello anxiety- cool, nice little party we’ve got going on. I reached the stage and thanked Kelli Brett profusely.

I turned to the microphone and saw the faces staring at me. I tried to breathe through the tension that I could suddenly feel over my whole body. It was taking so much energy just to stand there and not shake. I couldn’t make out Joel’s face, which would have helped. It was probably no time at all, but it felt like hours as I struggled to open my mouth. I could feel a bead of sweat dripping down my back. I closed my eyes a fraction-

and it suddenly hit me that this crowd probably didn’t actually care at all. They probably just wanted the ceremony to go quick so they could start partying. Half of them knew who I was and knew I was always gonna suck at giving a speech, and the other half didn’t know me, and didn’t care, and wouldn’t remember it anyway.

“Wow!” I grinned. “I’m beyond grateful- and I feel like a bit of a fraud with all the talent in the room. It’s inspiring to be among this group of people, many of whom have supported me or trained me. Thank you to everyone; there are too many of you to name, but I’ll do it over drinks later for anyone who’ll listen. A special thank you to my team at Pongakawa who make every service feel magic…. To Lydia and Marty whose support has been invaluable and to our head chef Joel Kaihe who….” I paused for half a second. I smiled at the audience. Anyone who knew me already knew. Anyone who didn’t wouldn’t even be listening at this stage. “He’s alright.” I joked. The crowd laughed like we were in on a big joke together, which I guess we were. “Have a great night everyone!” I quickly stepped away from the microphone, my heart pounding. I was ushered off to have my photo taken and I smiled as warmly as I could before slinking back to wrap my arms around Joel.

“You looked so beautiful.” He whispered. “Terrible speech though.”

“Fuck you.” I buried my head in his shoulder. “Ugh, I need more to drink.” Joel passed me his glass of wine. I was on my feet again pretty soon though when we won the Front of House team, and essentially repeated what I had just said, only more specific to my waitstaff. We were absolutely cleaning up. I was up and down like a yo-yo to the point where it was getting really embarrassing. Maria won, Charlie won, Joel won…

“And all chefs rely on a steady floor manager, much as we’d like to believe otherwise. So thank you to Rueben Valentini who is so much more than ‘alright'” his eyes flashed, “he is exceptionally talented, exceptionally kind…. And… exceptionally sexy. Ka mau te wehi!” He winked. The crowd hollered as he stepped away.

We won everything we’d been nominated for- except ambience and design. I had to go to the bathroom during the cocktail section and check that I wasn’t dreaming. Random strangers congratulated me as I lined up for the urinal. I mumbled my very awkward thanks.

The final award was for Outstanding Restaurant and I really didn’t feel like we deserved it, but I was pretty sure we were going to win anyway at that point. Joel squeezed my hand tight and jumped up as Pongakawa was called. I rallied everyone who’d been able to make it to trip onto the stage with us, and desperately looked at Joel to take the cue, since he actually thrived on the attention.

“We are so grateful, and you have seen more than enough of us tonight.” He bowed. “Let’s party.”

The cheers erupted and we took our final photo of the night. I turned to Joel.

“Hometime?” He suggested.

“You go party.” I told him. “I’m done.”

“You did awesome.”

“Thanks.” I pecked his cheek. “I’m gonna grab an uber.”

“We can go back to mine?” He stroked my arm.

“No, seriously. You deserve a night of total debauchery. I would come, I just…..”

“You really don’t want to.” Joel finished for me, laughing. “It’s ok, you don’t need to come. We’ll have other nights. Calmer ones.” He put his arms around me. “I’ll wait with you for the Uber though.”

“Okay.”

—-

We were waiting for Kurt the next day to go to the quiz. Joel yawned. He was hungover as hell. That was his own fault for rostering himself on the day after he knew he’d be partying. He opened my bag and searched around, grabbing the couple of books I had in there. He blinked at the titles and motioned vaguely, in a ‘can I read one of these?’ way. I handed him Birnam Wood.

He put his arm over my shoulder and I nestled in, continuing Lundy Bancroft’s book.

Joel didn’t say anything. Nor did I. We sat in the comfortable silence of two people in love.

— — —

—- —- —- 6.

Something had never really gone away. Part of a dream left unresolved. Something hazy, and kind of dark. Something that I didn’t want to think about.

Not everything can be resolved. Life isn’t neat and tidy. It doesn’t wrap itself up in a neat little parcel, put a bow on it and file it under finished; and I probably would have left that messy package unattended forever, hoping the memory would fade in time.

Only life doesn’t usually let you relax and move on that easy either.

I did actually end up being invited to audition for the NZSO. They were kind, but pretty brutal. My year a away from music had done me no favours. I was rusty. I wasn’t in the same league as the other percussionists who made it. They did tell me that I should keep playing and try again in a year, two years, three years even. I had something, it just needed refinement.

I took the opportunity offered by Marc to audition for Allegro, and I did get that. I was thrilled at first, and then I realised I had band practice twice a week, and therapy once a week, and now rehearsal twice a week. At least I had finally managed to roster myself a proper consistent weekend. And I had more energy now, way more. I was eating more, and exercising more but it was an energy beyond that. A mental clarity that I’d forgotten I was capable of.

Allegro was doing their annual tour at Wellington College- and that’s where I met Clive. In his second to last year of high school. A young, scrappy violinist who played soccer. I barely even spoke to the kids who played violin; spending all my time exchanging favourite drummers with the percussion kids who were always a fun blend of math and drama nerds and stoner prog metal heads. I would barely have registered him.

But a shiny black Porsche came to pick him up one day. A shiny black Porsche that I knew really well. And my stomach twisted into a hundred knots.

—-

“Space cadet.” Joel snapped at me over the pass. I glared at him but I quickly saw what he was snapping at. Like seven meals to be taken out, and I was just staring into space.

“Sorry chef.” I managed it in two trips, with a smile on my face. He shook his head at me.

“You’ve been spacing out all night.” He muttered. “I’m spoiled by your competence and to be honest I’m struggling with your less than stellar performance.”

“I’ll get it together.”

“Get it together for the next two hours and then we are having a talk, honey.” He pinched my hand that was resting on the pass gently.

“You know. I think I prefer space cadet to honey.” I shook him off me.

“Well, tonight you’re both.” He glared at me. “Are you gonna get the door or do I need to walk out there in my whites?”

“Fuck. Sorry.” I practically sprinted back to my job, and swallowed the endless fake scenarios I was imagining, and for all intents and purposes got it together. I stole a bottle of wine – well, I mean Lydia had said once I could take a bottle every now and then- and I started on it while I waited for Joel and the chefs to close. When he was finally done he grabbed another bottle and we locked up and headed to his car.

“Very cute that you get pissed while I’m still working and I have to drive every night.” He said.

“I can’t drive!” I protested.

“Good excuse.” He snorted. “Let’s work on that.” He tapped the steering wheel. “Talk now or talk at home?”

“Is home ok?”

“Of course, honey.” He sighed. “You know I’m worried right? Not mad?”

“I know.” I squeezed his thigh. “You know I’m bad at talking, right?”

“That’s why I have to take the lead on these things.” He smiled at me. “For what it’s worth, your worst nights are leagues ahead of anyone else’s best.”

“That’s kind of you to say.” I knew that wasn’t true. Kurt was better than me some nights. I’d been training him up to Maître D’ and he had the most engaging way of managing customers. I was putting a lot of energy into my senior team and I was starting to feel like the wheels were turning really well. Like… you know… if Joel did end up finding a spot… it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I moved on from Ponga…

The flat was quiet- it was late after all, and I started to make the dinner we’d been doing for the last two months or so of stir fry frozen vegetables and brown rice. The hospitality lifestyle was never extremely amenable to health, but when we were both pushing it at the gym it had been getting more and more apparent that late night snacks off beer and bread and cigarettes were wearing us down. Lisa had been coaching me to eat better, more balanced meals that filled nutritional gaps rather than the empty void in my brain.

So we went for something easy, and took turns trying to plate it in a way that would make a Michelin Starred chef weep in horror. We had both seriously cut down on smoking. I think the durries were always an excuse. A means of saying fuck you to the world- and of taking a break we were in dire need of. We set a new precedent- tea time. If anyone needed it- inside or outside, tea or just a deep breath, they were always welcome. I think with the trust we’d built up over time no one really took advantage.

I arranged everything on the chipped plates we took from work when they were retired and Joel poured me a wine and we sat down.

“So… what’s wrong, babygirl?” Joel asked.

“I…”

“Hold on.” He grabbed his phone and took a picture of the plate. “This one is beyond.” He grinned at me. I’d done a 90’s inspired skyscraper stack of rice with vegetables, drizzled with chili oil. I put a single sprig of parsley on top. It looked dated and terrible in a pretty amazing way.

“One for the gram.” I joked.

“You betcha.” He was getting kind of famous on Instagram for his ‘chefs off duty’ content- terrible food: peanut butter sandwiches, fairy bread, Watties spaghetti on toast- all arranged like we thought we were Bernard Loiseau. “Ok. What’s up.” He put his phone face down and looked at me expectantly.

“I think I have an obligation.” I sighed. I pushed my meal fractionally to the side and cradled my wine. I guess I still struggled with an appetite when I was stressed.

“Ok.” Joel looked at me. “Tell me about it?”

“So…. That thing we’re doing with Wellington College? The symphony?”

“Yeah!” Joel grinned. “EVERYONE is coming, I’ve forced the whole team into buying tickets…” I snorted and waved him aside.

“Tell me if I’m overthinking this?” Joel had an ability I always struggled with to balance hard emotions. He nodded at me, listening. “I think I saw… ok. No. I saw AJ pick up one of the kids the other day. Should I…” I winced and drank more wine, gesticulating vaguely.

“Oh. Honey.” He bit his lip. “Space cadet…” he tried.

“Ok, at home I prefer honey.” I giggled.

“Rubes.” He took my hands. “God, I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe AJ’s his uncle?”

“I won’t discount family friend, but he’s an only child.”

“Shit.” Joel closed his eyes. “Rubes… here’s what I want. I want you to forget you ever saw that. And forget AJ. And do the concert and move on.” He groaned. “But what I think you SHOULD do is… check in with that kid. And if it’s… weird. Just set fire to everything.”

“How do I check in with some random kid?!”

“I wish I knew!” He sighed. “What would have made you think twice?”

“Nothing on earth, but I was a particular brand of stupid.” I sighed.

“Say something.” Joel pushed my food back in front of me. “If you don’t you’ll regret it forever.” He stabbed the rice tower and sighed as it fell apart. “Or I could?” He offered. “Someone should say something but it doesn’t have to be you?”

“I think it has to be me.” I’d already come to that conclusion. I just needed to know I wasn’t being insane.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” He poured us each more wine. “This isn’t fair. I thought he’d moved out of town.”

“He showed up at Mum and Dad’s house a couple of months ago.” I admitted, biting my thumb.

“Oh. Rubes.” He reached for my hand, pulling it gently away from where I was tearing at the skin. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Dad punched him. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Paul…?” Joel’s mouth twitched.

“Yeah, I know.” I smiled weakly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Joel stroked my thumb.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” I sighed. “I was getting it together. I hate that you worry about me all the time. It makes me feel like you have to be all heroic and take care of me because I can’t do it myself.”

“Honey.” Joel sighed. “You’re my hero too. You saved me from becoming another mediocre nasty chef no one ever wants to work for, stuck in the past with plating and flavours and treating people badly. My career would have tanked if you didn’t wake me up. I was *this* close to being fired when we started hanging out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He smiled at me. “I’m not going to rush in and save you. You saved yourself. But you need to know you have backup here, if you want it. Whatever you do. Tell me. Lean on me. You’re ok. I love you.”

—-

I had no idea what to say. How to corner a teenager and try to convince him that the guy picking him up in a Porsche was really bad news. I bet someone had already said something. I mean… if they noticed. That was kind of the problem. A lift home here, a bit of time one on one coaching there… AJ didn’t just ask me out, you know? We’d been getting closer over a couple of years. I was lonely. He knew that. I still remember the first time he kissed me. The way he held my hand and took it slow. He told me not to tell anyone because he’d be fired from coaching. In retrospect, being fired was the least of the shitstorm that would have come for him if I’d been smarter. But he knew what he was doing. He didn’t pick a brash bold guy who would advocate for himself.

And I wouldn’t have listened if someone had tried to stop it, anyway. I didn’t have a lot of friends. I really thought AJ was the only person in the whole world who cared. And, bar Mum and Dad- the worst part is at that age; I was kind of right. I hadn’t found my skills or my place. I had friends in orchestra but no one I went to parties with. I worked in the weekends but the crew was all older than I was and I didn’t fit in.

I couldn’t think of a single thing I could do to change anything.

I was early for rehearsal- a whole weekend of rehearsing before a Tuesday night concert which meant I had to change everything around at work to make it AND I’d be missing the pub quiz. Wellington College was at the end of Newtown, not far from where Joel and I lived. It was weird being in a school again. I felt tense and self aware even walking up to the gates. I found a corner I could hide myself in and have a cigarette to calm myself down while I waited for other people to arrive.

The kids arrived first, dropped off by various parents who were having a quick mill around and conversation before taking the rest of their flock to sports or whatever else families did on Saturday mornings. I wasn’t really watching, until I saw Clive, running to his mates, and his mum, leaning on the bonnet of the car, chatting to the other parents.

His mum. I didn’t know what to say to him, but I hadn’t considered saying it to someone else.

I wasn’t ready. I grabbed a mint, unwrapping it clumsily. I smoothed my hair down and took my coat off hoping the smell of smoke wouldn’t linger too badly. I wasn’t ready. I walked towards her and smiled awkwardly. I wasn’t ready.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“Hi.” She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“I’m… you’re Clive’s mum right?”

“Di.”

“Hello, Di. Um.” Oh I so wasn’t ready. I should have practiced something. “I just… I noticed last week… do you know AJ Prescott?”

“AJ?” I don’t know if I was imagining it but I think her smile faltered. “Yes.”

“Um.” I sighed. “Does he… ever… Is Clive like… special?” That smile really did drop.

“Special?” She repeated.

“To AJ? It’s just- he used to take me for soccer, and I was kind of special and I think I was a bit young for… and Clive seems like a really nice kid and…”

“What’s your name?” Her face had fallen into stern lines and I could feel my flight instinct kicking in.

“Ruben.” I mumbled. “Valentini.” As if she needed my full name.

“Rueben, would you…” She paused as Clive reappeared. I blinked looking at him. It’s always taken me a bit by surprise how many guys will wear makeup or nail polish or little butterfly clips on their hair and not think twice. My dad still occasionally grumbled if I wore a pink shirt.

“Hi.” Clive glanced at me, with a narrowed eye ‘where do I know you from?’ frown.

“This is Rueben.” His mum introduced us.

“Oh yeah. Drums.”

“Percussion.”

“Yes.” He smiled, knowing I was being annoyingly pedantic.

There was a queue developing and Di swore as she realised she was in the middle of it.

“Rueben?” She confirmed with me. I nodded and her mouth went thin as she disappeared into her Kia and drove away, waggling her fingers out the window at Clive.

The two of us were left alone, looking awkwardly at each other. I sighed and stuck my hands in my pockets. I think it was on me to not be awkward, since I was the adult.

“She has a boyfriend.” He said before I could ask something inane like what his favourite subject was.

“So do I.” I said.

“Oh.” He glanced at me. “Right.”

And I would have said more, but we were headed in different directions and I missed my chance.

— — —

I got a call from an unknown number. I answered, thinking it would be a supplier asking if we could substitute one high alcohol expensive hazy IPA for another.

“I don’t see why you can move on but I can’t.” His voice hissed at me. I probably should have hung up straight away. I’m not always good with shock.

“AJ?”

“Don’t approach Di again.”

“How do you know her?”

“None of your business, you piece of shit. If I hear one more word about you crawling around I’ll….”

“Get beaten up by my Dad again?” I suggested.

“I will hurt you, Rueben.” He said slowly. “Don’t think that I won’t.”

I froze. He hung up on me and I sat, staring into space.

If he really didn’t want me talking to Di, there was probably a really good reason to talk to Di. I closed my eyes. Dammit. I wanted to run away. I’d been the victim. I won. I came out ok with my own hero. I didn’t want to BE the hero. I just wanted AJ to disappear, fade out of my life and live alone on an island somewhere where I never had to worry.

— —

I caught up with Clive after practice the next day.

“Hey.” I shoved my hands deep in my pockets and looked at him awkwardly. He swallowed.

“Hi.” He sounded on edge.

“Look…”

“They asked me to drop out of this.” Clive said. “I said I would just avoid you. Mums picking me up in ten minutes.”

“You’re not special.” I said, and kicked myself as I saw the look of shock pass over his face. “I didn’t mean that! You’re SPECIAL! I mean, you’re exceptionally talented for sure! But what I meant is… AJ, he’s done this before. He did it to me. I know he tells you you’re special, and mature, and I know he makes you feel important but there are so many people out there who will make you feel that way who really care about you, and who will genuinely never hurt you, and who don’t care if you get fat or old or ugly because that was never why they liked you in the first place and…” I trailed off. He was struggling to breathe, quite literally.

“Are you ok?!” I reached for him and paused, not wanting to touch him without knowing it was ok.

“Asthma.” He heaved a breath. “Cold air. Plus surprise. Inhaler. Back pack. Could you…?” I grabbed the bag and found his inhaler. I threw it at him and he took it, closing his eyes as his chest rose and fell, quick and first and then slower. “How did you know?” He asked, his eyes still closed. “I thought it was weird! Mum told me I was being dramatic! How did you…?”

“I was your age once.” I winced. “AJ used to coach my soccer team.”

“So he IS gay!” Clive’s cheeks went pink. “I fucking told her! I told her he was a nonce and he was fucking creepy and I didn’t want him to pick me up!”

“Oh.” I smiled a tiny bit. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Well, she wasn’t listening.” Clive rolled his eyes. “She is in DEEP denial. She reckons it’s just because I don’t want a stepdad. As if! I just don’t want HIM.”

“Wait…” My brain whirred slowly. I saw the Kia at the bottom of the driveway. I probably should have run away or something. But I couldn’t think and move, and as I thought, the car crept up.

“That’s Mum.” Clive told me under his breath. I knew he meant SCRAM. I didn’t. The car pulled up and Di, a tiny woman with curly dark blonde hair who looked way too young to have a teenage son, pulled a horrible face at me as she leapt out, sheltering Clive.

“Back off.” She growled. I took a step back. The wind was whipping around us- it was unseasonably cold this afternoon. I stood still as she bundled Clive into the car. As they drove away. I could hear him yelling at her, even over the sound of the motor.

And her scent lingered. Strangely familiar. Feminine. Fruity.

Oh.

—- —-

“What am I meant to do with this?” I asked Kurt helplessly. Joel was working a double and I didn’t really want to ask him anyway. Joel was kind and gentle and protective and this was the last thing in the world I wanted to tell him about.

“So AJ was having an affair with a woman?!” Kurt’s eyes were wide.

“I don’t know.” I rubbed my eyes. “Yes? I guess so? Or maybe we both were the affair? I don’t know. But I think he’s trying to get close to her son.” I wrinkled my nose. “I can’t believe he’s actually… I mean I really thought he was just a bog standard asshole…”