Brian did not fuck Justin that night. Justin fell asleep on the couch while Brian was working on his pitch. Later Brian carried him to the bed. Brian undressed himself and then Justin, but ONLY so the boy would be comfortable. Yup. He did not pull Justin into his arms, but he ended up there all the same. In his sleep, Justin mmmed and rubbed his face, chest, and legs all over Brian, finally nestling his head in the crook of Brian's neck and sliding an arm around Brian's waist. This most certainly did NOT cause Brian to develop a raging, near painful hard-on. Nope. Brian did then slide his arm around Justin and rub his back, but ONLY so that he (Brian) would be more comfortable and to settle the boy down (he was wiggling – more specifically, gently rubbing his erection against Brian's leg). Brian briefly pondered waking Justin and fucking him into the mattress, but that would have meant more 'connecting,' and Brian needed a little less of that just now.

Given all that, Brian should have been happy when the alarm barked the next morning, and he first opened his eyes. Or relieved. Nope. Brian was surprised – confused – and annoyed … to find himself alone in the bed. He found a note where Justin should have been. It read, "Have an idea I think you'll love. Tell you about it later. J."

His surprise, confusion, annoyance somehow seeped into everything he did that morning. He spent the first two hours pondering why Justin would not have wanted to stay, which drew focus from everything else. He wasn't paying attention when he turned the shower on and forgot to adjust the temperature – causing him to yowl when he stepped under the scalding hot spray and his neighbors to bang on the wall in complaint. He kept losing count when adding his imported Italian roast into the coffeemaker basket and ended up with coffee so strong he couldn't swallow even a mouthful. He ended up spitting it out and smashing his mug in frustration (he didn't have time to make another pot or to stop for coffee on his way in to work).

Then in the subway station, he accidentally went to the uptown platform (he always took the downtown train to midtown). When he finally realized his error, he saw the downtown train pulling into the station. He had to leap stairs four at a time and sprint to make it through the doors, and, in the process, he knocked into someone sitting near the door who'd just opened a container of oatmeal. His dick had gotten a scalding, and the oatmeal had stained his charcoal Armani pants, right next to his dick. It looked like he'd cum in his pants. Fortunately, he had his briefcase, so he managed to cover himself all the way up to his office. He walked right by Cynthia, not stopping to ask if she'd found her Prince Charming or whether he had any messages or whether anyone was in his office. He rushed through and slammed the door and immediately started disrobing (he had extra suits in his office bathroom). He was just about to remove the offensive pants when he heard the sound of someone clearing his or her throat. Turned out to be a him.

Brian turned to find Mr. Ryan sitting in his chair behind his desk. Brian sighed. He plastered a fake smile on his face and lilted, "I'll be right with you." Then he walked into his bathroom, shut the door, and finished changing – all the while muttering profanities. When he reemerged, he felt more himself. So he growled, "Get the fuck out of my chair." But he also smiled.

Ryan stood and walked over to Brian, glaring daggers at him. He hissed, "Kinney, I want my intern back."

Brian nodded. But to Ryan's confusion, he actually said, "No." Firmly.

Ryan turned bright red and was about to go off when Brian asked, "You live on Long Island, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Do you drive?"

"Yes, why are you asking?" Ryan was quickly losing patience.

In a drawl, but not his supersexy one, he stated, "I happen to have a parking space in the garage across the street." He didn't even own a car, though sometimes he rented one. The space was a perk that had come with his last promotion.

Ryan froze and looked away. His eyes lost focus. He paid almost $500 a month for his space (fairly standard for midtown), the lot was open to the air and a half mile away, and the valets weren't exactly careful. He'd found four dings on his car in the last year alone. But the parking garage across the street was fancier. They charged $600 a month but guaranteed your car's condition. They paid for dings. Ryan looked back at Brian and narrowed his eyes. "Why do you even have a spot? You don't own a car."

Brian shrugged. "Sometimes I rent one."

Ryan shook his head and sighed. So wasteful. That was part of the reason he hated most executives. They had WAY too much money. You'd think being linked to a name partner, even by marriage, would earn him some of these same perks (amazing parking space, higher salary, etc.). Nope. He was lucky to have gotten some authority. This was why he worked so hard to keep it. It was the only benefit he derived from being part of Mr. York's 'extended family.' But … if he could spend less a month on parking and not have to worry about auto repairs … what the hell did he care about the intern? He had 50 people to boss around already. He didn't even remember the new intern's name. He nodded and held out his hand. "Deal."

Brian looked at his outstretched hand like it was a dead rat, but he took it and shook it briefly all the same, very briefly. But when Ryan turned to leave, he smiled a genuine smile. He told himself he was simply relieved to have Ryan off his back, not that he was pleased he'd still get to work with Justin three afternoons a week.

Once Ryan was gone, he picked up the clothes he'd shed when he'd walked in and set them in the bathroom. He placed his briefcase on his desk. Then he sat down in his chair and picked up a pen. He absentmindedly started flipping it in his hand. So many questions swirled in his head, forming a teeming ocean that was starting to give him a headache. Was Justin upset that they hadn't fucked? That Brian had worked late? Or was he still upset about the cop? The tricking stories? Mikey's dickish behavior? Two hours of thinking and he still hadn't a clue. Justin MUST be upset or he wouldn't have left early. Waking up in Brian's arms had quickly become Justin's favorite activity … or so it seemed. Until they'd started fucking. But it was a close second even now if Saturday and Sunday morning were any indication.

Brian was still lost in thought when Cynthia marched into his office.

"So … how did the trip go?"

Brian shot her a blank stare.

Cynthia frowned. "That bad?"

Brian made a WEIRD face (like he was trying to decide whether the milk that had been sitting in the fridge a week had gone bad) and shrugged. Finally, he proffered, "It was okay."

Cynthia smiled and shook her head. "Oh no you don't! I need details."

Brian sighed. "The little twat outed me."

Justin sighed. "I outed him."

Daphne gasped. "They didn't know he was gay?"

"No, doofus! How could his best friend be in love with him without everyone knowing he was gay?"

Daphne furrowed her brow. "Oh right. Well, then how did you out him?"

"How did he out you?"

Brian resumed his blank stare.

Cynthia rubbed her hands together and giggled. "OHHHH this is PRICELESS! He told everyone that he was your boyfriend, didn't he?" Cynthia looked at Brian more intently, trying to read him. Then she gasped, "OH MY GOD, did he tell them you haven't been tricking? How did he even know?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Maybe because a strong breeze could have gotten me hard, you know, before date five."

Cynthia bit back a grin.

Brian barked. "Oh and thank you for all this date five crap. You know, he shared that juicy little tidbit, too."

Cynthia gaped. "Brian, I NEVER told you to wait. YOU were doing that all on your own. In fact, I was the one to tell you to fuck him."

Brian turned his chair so that he could look out the window. "Whatever."

Cynthia wanted to burst out laughing. Brian was SUCH a child sometimes. "So … uh …" Cynthia cleared her throat. "How did Mikey take the news?"

"So how did the best friend take the news?"

Justin smiled brightly. "He FLIPPED! He actually attacked me."

Daphne's eyes widened. "Oh my God! Are you okay?"

"Actually, yeah. Brian was looking at me from the kitchen and he smiled, and I could barely feel or hear Mikey."

"What did he do?"

"He shoved me and told me I didn't belong there."

"Holy shit! Well, it had to happen sometime. Now maybe he'll get a life."

"Well, it had to happen sometime. Now maybe he'll get a life." Cynthia had not received an answer, just a frown. She'd assumed Mikey had taken the news like he took all change, like a drama princess.

Brian surprised Cynthia then. He nodded and said softly, "Yeah."

"So … are you and Justin okay? You didn't do anything stupid did you?"

In answer, Brian simply groaned softly, so softly she could barely hear it.

"Fuck! What did you do?"

"What did Brian do?"

"Sent me a whole lot of mixed signals as usual."

"Huh?"

"Well, after the party, instead of going clubbing, we spent the evening with his son."

Daphne awwed.

"Yeah … but then he embarrassed me on the train … he jerked me off in front of two old ladies."

Daphne laughed so hard she fell off the couch, banging her head on the coffee table in the process. She muttered, "Ow."

Justin narrowed his eyes. "You SO deserve that." Then after a pause, he added, "Then … he fucked me on the subway platform. A cop came by, but instead of writing us a ticket right away, he just stared."

Daphne shuddered. "He was getting off on watching?"

Justin nodded. "For a few minutes. But then he wanted to join us."

"Holy crap!"

Justin sighed. "I know."

"What did Brian do?"

"Brian, what did you do?"

Brian shrugged. "Nothing. Just a near miss."

Justin shrugged. "A near miss. At first Brian seemed into it. But then he pushed him away."

"That's sweet."

"Yeah … kinda. I mean we hadn't said we would be faithful. But I assumed …"

"Oh … maybe you should talk about it."

"Oh … maybe you should talk about it."

Brian made a scoffing sound but said nothing. Not at first. But then he said, in almost a whisper, "Maybe."

Justin sighed. Deeply. "Honestly, I'm kind of afraid to. He's more likely just to not trick if I don't call attention to it."

"Yeah, but what happens next time? Shouldn't you, you know, make rules, set boundaries?"

Justin replied softly, in almost a whisper, "Maybe."

Cynthia sighed. "What happened?"

Brian erupted then. The questions still swirling in his head and the questions Cynthia lobbed at him during her third degree were each like a brick, piled one on top of the other on his chest. "I don't fucking know. Last night, he got pissed at me for jerking him off in front of some old ladies and nearly stomped off. Then when I was fucking him on the platform …"

Cynthia interjected, "Wait, you STOPPED him?"

Brian shrugged.

"Wow. Just wow. You must really like him."

Brian jumped up and stomped over to the couch. Then he threw himself back against it (so that he was lying down). "I guess I fucking must because I rejected a trick, a COP, who would have been useful and who wouldn't then have given us appearance tickets for fucking trespassing …"

"AND you turned down a trick?" Cynthia nodded. She was impressed. "So what's the problem?"

"So what's the problem? He introduced you to his friends and his son, he refused a trick, he didn't correct you when you outed him. Clearly he likes you. You should be able to just be straight with him."

Justin sighed again. "I feel like he's pulling away. He didn't fuck me last night."

Brian turned toward the wall. "He didn't stay. He left early this morning. He was gone when I woke up."

"Any clue why?"

"I'm not a fucking mind reader. How am I supposed to know?"

"Maybe you need to talk about the incident with the cop."

Brian shot her a death glare.

"Or at least make some kind of agreement about tricking. You might not have fucked him, but you wanted to, right?"

"Yeah, so, he was hot. And in UNIFORM. I'm only fucking human."

"Justin must have noticed. If he hasn't been seeing anyone else, he probably assumed you weren't, either …"

"I don't SEE people."

"Except Justin."

"Whatever. Your point is …"

"He needs to be able to know what to expect."

"This is fucking ridiculous. Why do I have to say whether or not I plan to fuck other people? I haven't felt like tricking lately, but I don't know what I'll want next week or even tomorrow."

Cynthia sighed. "Look, your friends know you have a boyfriend who you waited to fuck and are now monogamous with, right? The hard part's over. If you're doing the time, you might as well do the crime."

"What does that even mean?"

"If everyone thinks you're monogamous, why not just try it out? For real. Officially. Give it a couple of months. And tell him. Worst-case scenario, you decide that even with Justin, it's not for you. But if you tell him that could happen, he won't be devastated if it does. Adult relationships require COMMUNICATION. When you have that, boyfriends don't usually flee in the morning."

Huhn. Brian rolled his lips into his mouth. And his eyes lost focus.

Cynthia interrupted his contemplation. "Speaking of boyfriends …"

Brian frowned.

"Justin left this for your approval."

Brian's head shot up. "What?"

She handed Brian a piece of posterboard the size of two index cards. Justin must have used the graphics lab at the Art Institute, designing it on the computer and then printing it out on a special printer. There was a picture of a slender but hot guy taking up half of it. You couldn't see his face (his head was cut off) … his chest was somewhat sculpted, but not as much as Brian's. He was bare to the waist and had on jeans. Brian looked at the ass. His eyes widened. It was Justin's. He'd recognize that ass anywhere. Justin was in the foreground and what looked like the floor of a dance club was in the background. In red lettering he had typed, "21 or older? Male? Heterosexual? Confident enough in your masculinity for a manicure? Eyeliner? Manscaping? Free drinks for all. Modeling positions for some. Girl friends are welcome."

Brian chuckled. "What the hell?"

"When he called, he said he had an idea to help you land Flash Vodka … which by the way… why didn't I know we were gunning for them?"

Brian shot her a blank stare.

"Anyway, he said, he would pass this out on campus and Daphne would, too … he just needs a place and a date. Then at the party, you can take pictures for your presentation and maybe even hire some models for the campaign."

"Huhn. That's kind of genius isn't it?" Brian smiled softly.

"Yup. Cheap, too. So … what should I tell him?"

"Uh … tell him to use the loft address … see if tonight will work. 9 pm."

"You got it. Hey … how did you get Ryan off your ass?"

"A parking space."

Cynthia gaped. "You traded Justin for a parking space?"

Brian shrugged. "Yeah, why not?"

Cynthia shook her head. When she turned away, she mouthed, "OH MY GOD!"