Justin and Brian, after many rounds of phone tag, were finally going to meet at the French-African fusion restaurant Justin had mentioned. Justin wasn't unhappy about the delay. They had ended up talking many times throughout the week, and he was much better on the phone. As a disembodied voice, he felt much more confident. He'd explained the secret touches the chefs had made to Brian's favorite dishes at various restaurants; Brian was extremely impressed by Justin's highly sensitive taste buds and broad knowledge of cuisine and said so, many times. And, with Brian at the other end of the line, Justin even felt sexy. Every other day over the past week, Brian had called Justin in the middle of the night (Brian knew Justin was an evening/night person; Justin never had to wake up early) complaining that he was still awake so that Justin could lull him to sleep. Justin's voice was low and husky and, Brian claimed, sexy as hell. Justin wished so hard that Brian would use their late-night chats to jerk off rather than to fall asleep, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that Brian found talking with him relaxing and his voice, sexy.

Now, eight days after their initial encounter, they were finally meeting at the French-African fusion restaurant. Justin had arrived early to get them seats (or so he'd told himself; in reality, he just wanted his belly to be safely hidden by the table when Brian arrived). He'd taken his coat off and put it back on several times before Brian appeared. Even with the table, Justin felt exposed without his coat on (normally, he wouldn't have cared, but Brian was going to be there, and Justin liked Brian more than he'd liked any man since he'd hit puberty. Brian may not have used their conversations to jerk off, but Justin had. And, they'd been the best orgasms of his life.) So when Brian finally sauntered in, Justin was still wearing his coat.

Brian's face actually brightened when he caught sight of Justin. He smiled softly and made his way across the restaurant to where Justin was seated. But he didn't sit right away. Instead, he stood next to Justin's chair and said, "Come on."

Justin was baffled. "What?"

Brian laughed. "Stand up."

Justin was growing very uncomfortable. He most definitely did not want to stand up, but Brian was insistent. Refusing him would probably just make a bad situation worse. So Justin slowly rose to his feet. Then the bad situation grew to nightmarish proportions without any help from him. Brian was taking off Justin's coat. Justin nearly panicked. In as calm a voice as he could manage, he said, "Brian, I'm a little cold. Leave it on."

Brian looked at him dubiously. "Justin, you're sweating."

Justin touched his forehead. "Oh, am I?" He really was, but he wasn't sure it was because he was hot.

Brian muttered, "Not surprising. It's like a furnace in here." Then he tugged at Justin's buttons and pulled his coat off. Unfortunately, all the tugging and pulling caused Justin's shirt to ride up a bit, just enough to bring his potbelly into view. And Brian saw it. Justin knew he had because Brian's eyes widened a little and he grimaced slightly. Justin turned five shades of red and sat down quickly. Brian didn't say anything. He just hung Justin's coat up on a nearby coat rack and joined Justin at the table. Justin was a little surprised. He'd half expected Brian to leave. At first, he almost wished Brian had left. He couldn't look Brian in the eye, and he could tell that he was still blushing (his face was hot). At the same time, he felt flushed. Like he might faint.

Despite the widened eyes and the slight grimace, when Brian returned to the table, he acted as though he had seen nothing. He picked up the menu and perused it, finally asking, "Any recommendations?"

Justin looked up, but he was still dazed. He replied, "Huh?"

Brian chuckled. "Are the words too big for you, or are you just dazzled by my hotness?"

Justin laughed in spite of himself. Maybe Brian didn't find him repugnant after all. Course not repugnant and attractive were two very different things.

After they'd ordered, Brian said to the waiter, "This is the food critic from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, so I'd make it good if I were you."

The waiter paled and ran off.

Justin protested, "Brian…there was no need to scare the guy!"

Brian harrumphed. "How are they going to know they should kiss your ass if you don't tell them who you are?"

Justin shook his head. "If the food is good, they'll get a good review. They don't need to treat me differently."

Brian sighed. "You're lucky we met. You have so much to learn."

A second later, the waiter hurried over with a bottle of their best wine, on the house, of course. And when the food came (arriving before that of patrons who'd ordered prior to Brian's sauntering in), they received the dishes they'd ordered and samples of three others.

Brian grinned. "Now this is how a food critic, and his companion, should be treated!"

Justin shook his head, but he smiled, too.

Brian drawled, "In fact, that chef is hot, and he's got my gaydar pinging all over the place. I bet he'd be grateful for the chance to score some extra points."

Justin looked at Brian in horror. He exclaimed, "Brian! I could never have sex with someone under circumstances like that!" He wasn't sure what horrified him more, the fact that Brian thought Justin needed to use his clout as food critic to get a guy into bed or that Brian thought Justin would ever trade sex for the promise of a good review. Granted, the chef was extraordinarily hot, and Justin probably couldn't get him into bed under normal circumstances, but still.

Brian furrowed his brow. "Why the hell not?"

"First of all, if I couldn't get him into bed without his knowing what I do for a living, I wouldn't want to fuck him."

Brian scoffed, "Power's a turn on. Plain and simple."

Justin sighed. "You and I both know that that's not what you meant. Going to a club and telling some random guy that I'm a food critic to impress him is not the same as hitting on the chef at a restaurant I'm reviewing. You would never fuck an underling at work, would you?"

"The hell I wouldn't."

Justin just gaped at Brian.

"I would tell him that my fucking him would have no impact on his career, but chances are, he'd still want me to fuck him."

Justin sighed in exasperation. "Yeah, but he wouldn't be doing it in the hopes of getting something from you other than sex."

"How do you know that?"

"Just look at you. You could have the lowest-paying job with no power whatsoever and still get laid."

"True. But I probably wouldn't get laid as often. It'd be damn close, but power is fucking hot. And many people, when choosing between getting a promotion from a troll or the best sex of their life from a gas station attendant, would choose the troll."

Justin swallowed hard. So that's what Brian thought…that he was a troll who needed to use his power as a food critic to get laid. He'd pretty much figured the moment Brian had suggested that he fuck the chef, but he'd hoped that he was wrong. Justin couldn't have been more disappointed and hurt. He wanted Brian to want him, to be upset at the thought of his being with someone else. He knew that that was unlikely ever to happen, but with all their talks and all of Brian's compliments, he had thought maybe. "Brian, even if I were the kind of person who would use his position to get a little, which I most certainly am not, I still wouldn't fuck him."

"Why the hell not?"

Justin's chest suddenly felt so tight, and his face, flushed. "I have…uh…feelings for someone, and even though I know nothing will ever come of it, at the moment, he's all I want."

Brian was beyond puzzled. "What does fucking have to do with feelings?"

Justin laughed. "Oh my God. You aren't seriously asking me that, are you?"

Brian said nothing, but held Justin's gaze.

"You have to know that the best sex can only be had with someone you care about!"

Brian continued to stare at Justin. Blankly.

"You seriously didn't know that?"

Brian shrugged. "I've heard people say it, but I always assumed it was because they had no clue what good sex was. People go out of their way to please someone as hot as I am. I just assumed that most people can only get that amount of effort from someone who has feelings for them."

Justin smiled. "Brian, it's not about whether or not people put in extra effort; it's about connection. Being completely in sync with another person. Take two people who are great in bed and you'll get hot sex. Take those same people, only now suppose they're in love, and you'll get phenomenal sex."

Brian muttered, "If you say so," but something about the look in Justin's eyes and the timbre of his voice made him wonder whether he was missing out on something. For a moment, he imagined Justin looking at him with the same expression his face had held when speaking of that other guy. Brian actually shivered. But it was a warm shiver. He couldn't help but keep the fantasy going, imagining Justin kissing him. Slow and deep. Brian shook his head, trying to clear it of his fantasy. It had been relatively chaste, involving nothing more than a kiss, yet it had gotten him impossibly hard.

Later, when he was fucking the chef, his mind kept drifting back to Justin. After they'd finished and Brian had kicked him out, Brian lay in bed smoking, smoking and thinking. Why had he picked up the chef of all people? Sure, he was hot, but so was the waiter and the guy at the newspaper kiosk around the corner from the restaurant. Brian hadn't even picked the guy up while he and Justin were still at the restaurant. No. He had gone back after saying goodbye to Justin. The fuck wasn't, like most, about grabbing the hottest guy in his proximity. In fact, the hottest guy in his proximity, before he went back to the restaurant, was hotter than the chef. No. He had chosen the chef above all other possible tricks because the chef had Justin all over him. Not literally, of course. But still, when he'd whispered into the guy's ear, when he'd brought him home, when he'd kissed him, and when he was thrusting inside him, all Brian could think about was Justin. That realization unnerved him so much that Brian found himself dialing Justin's number, and when Justin picked up, he said, "So tell me about this other guy. What about him makes him unattainable?"

Then before he knew what he was saying, he'd offered to help Justin get his man.