"Remind me not to get married."

"I don't think your gay ass has anything to worry about," Carta remarked, closing the door behind them. They could still hear the strains of argument between the husband and wife as they headed down the steps of the porch.

"It's legal some places," Blanc pointed out, his fingers ruffling his mid-length black hair. "If I wanted to settle."

Carta snorted as they headed down the sidewalk, "You make being in a long-term relationship sound so demeaning."

He glanced over his shoulder at the house they were leaving, "Isn't it? Why would I want what they have?"

"Is that why you broke up with Magna? Because he wanted you to settle down?"

Shrugging, Blanc shoved his hands in his pockets, "Even if I had a desire to 'settle down,' I wouldn't have picked him. He made no money."

"Way to be shallow Blanc, way to be shallow."

"I don't want to be the sole supporter in a relationship. He barely made enough to get by, and I could just see him depending on my monies and not working, as if he'd have any reason."

"Like kids? You could adopt," she teased.

He looked horrified that she would even suggest such a wretched prospect. "Thanks, but no. So, without kids," he stressed, "no reason to stay home. And thus no reason to have a crap-paying job. And no reason to stay with him."

"Still shallow," she said, sighing.

The music was loud, the bodies were close, and the air was heavy with denied sex. It was just as Blanc liked it. He'd just finished dancing with a man who was fine and ready to go, but who had an off-putting smell about him. Blanc had excused himself for a drink, which is where he was heading, his eyes trained on the gorgeous bartender.

The man was tall with limbs that went for ages and enough muscle strapped over his bones to not make him a skeleton. He had skin like hot chocolate and long brown hair, always in a braid. Blanc wanted to run his fingers through that hair, and explore those miles of limbs with his mouth. But a bartender? Not his class.

He lost visual for a moment, having to duck around three men who were rather distracting, and when he looked back, he saw something glass slipping from the bartender's hands and shattering to the floor. He reached the bar just as the audio started. "Fuck, Toke, get the fuck out of here. I can't have you breaking things all the time."

"It wasn't my fault," Toke said, his voice somewhat muffled because he was crouched, cleaning up the mess.

"That's what you always say. Just leave the mess and get out of here, for good. Sorry, but I can't have a bull in my china shop."

Toke stood up, re-dropping the glass shards in his hand, "Fine. Thanks." He turned, sweeping out with eerie grace for how clumsy he was supposedly. Blanc watched him go, sighing in appreciation of his fitted slacks and in remorse that this would be the last time he saw him.

The manager screamed for one of the other workers to clean up the mess, then took Blanc's order. The drink was cold and smooth and revitalized him for the dance floor. He set his empty glass down and turned, being folded back into the mass of bodies as he made his way around, searching for a lone bird that he could call upon.

He didn't find one. He found plenty of dance partners and potentials, but he was feeling picky and by the end of the night, wasn't really interested in a lay, which was a first for him. Stepping outside, the air was cold, at least compared to that of the club, and smelled of city, stale cigarettes and traffic. He inhaled deeply.

A fresh whiff of smoke curled into his lungs and he opened his eyes, spotting a familiar brown braid leaning against the light post, half surrounded by three unfriendly guys. The cigarette was perched on Toke's lips, hanging casual even as his back was pressed against the cold metal.

"Looky boys, I think I've got me a new girlfriend," one of the men grunted. Compared to him, Toke looked tiny, although outside the bar, the server seemed a little shorter than he had inside.

"Leave me the fuck alone," he growled, his body not responding to them in anyway.

"Manners, manners," one chided, glancing to his buddy, "Looks like she's gonna put up a fight."

Blanc was about to intercede, to at least balance the numbers, when Toke suddenly moved. The motion was fast and continued, until two of the men were doubled over holding their crotches and the third was stumbling back with blood gushing down his face.

The one with the broken nose kept stepping backward as Toke straightened, leaning toward him. The two other blokes hobbled up to the third and they all decided it wasn't a fight worth continuing. Toke sighed, sagging back against the post, briefly pulling the cigarette from his mouth. Blanc didn't think he'd ever been so instantly turned on. Crossing the short space between them, he resisted brushing against the darker man as he stood beside him, "Impressive. Do I need to ask if you're alright?"

Toke's eyes had been closed, and they opened, catching sight of Blanc and flushing his cheeks briefly. "I'm fine, Blanc, don't keep your date waiting." The eyes fluttered closed again, probably to hide the primal hunger that was there. But Blanc had already seen it. He stepped closer, so he was in front of Toke, his groin stirring at the heat coming off the other man. "I seem to be at a disadvantage, I don't know your name."

The eyes opened, not shocked by the proximity, but dilating, the breathing shallow, "Token. And don't bother."

"Bother?" He stepped closer, reaching up to rest his hands against the metal pole as he leaned in, "With what?"

Token's breathing shuddered, but his eyes were firm, "With me. I'm not looking for a one night stand, and I've seen you here, that's all you do."

Blanc was taken off guard. Token had been watching him? That was hot. He smiled, seductive as he could, and purred, "Maybe I'm unlucky in love."

Hands gripped Blanc's hips, fingers digging into the meat there, "You don't go to a club for love." Then he was pushed away. Token moved from the pole, freeing himself from Blanc's seduction, although his body was obviously excited at being so close. He dropped his cigarette to the ground, putting it out with his heel. "Good luck on finding…whatever it is you want."

Blanc watched as the other man walked away, his rejection doing nothing to settle the fire in his core.

His thrusts were needy and frantic, so unlike him that it was fitting, since he didn't feel like himself at all. And after they'd both released, he still wasn't satisfied. He rolled out of the bed and went to the bathroom to shower.

The hot water burned his skin, while moments ago it had felt numb. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes, letting it hurt as it ran down his chest. Taking a short breath, he dipped his head under, protecting his face from the burning but submitting his scalp to the pain.

If this was the first time, he would think nothing of it. But no, this was the third time, and he knew what his body wanted, if he would give in. He pulled his head out, inhaling the humid air with a gasp. But giving in would just drive this delusion, wouldn't it? If only he could have one fuck with Token, then maybe he'd get him out of his head.

But no, the dark, slender man had denied him, as few others had before. And that refusal just burned in his brain, in his cock, making him want him even more. That's all it was, a desire for something he couldn't have. Once he had it, once he tasted it, then he'd be able to move on. The sex could never be as good as his brain seemed to think it was going to be.

"Fuck," he murmured, caving to the desires of his body and grasping his erection. "Fuck," he whispered again as the video of Token sprung to life in his mind, offering that sweet release he was otherwise denied.

The plan was simple: Pretend to want a long-term relationship from Token, get him into bed, then dump him. The plot holes were obvious, but he didn't see any other options. First on his to-do list was finding the man.

He rapped his knuckles against the bar owner's door.

The door swung open and Ellie Van Ro stood there, looking all of 13, except her birthday made her ten years older than Blanc. "Heya sweetie."

"Hey El," he flashed a smile, "I was wondering if you could do me a favor?"

"Long or short term?" she asked as she moved inside, motioning him to follow. The apartment was clean and, considering the wild colors of the club, bland. This was the influence of her neat-freak girlfriend.

"Short, real short. I just need a bartender's number."

She grinned, turning to him, jutting out her hip and resting her hand there, "Token?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Because," she led him over to her couch, flopping down and taking up more room than her small frame demanded, "I figured you'd eventually realize he was staring at you, even if it wasn't 'til he was gone. That boy wanted you bad."


She laughed at his dejection and sat up, glancing over him, "Wants, but is realistic. He knows what kind of player you are." She rolled her eyes, "Don't we all, actually. Which is why you're not getting his number from me. He's a crappy bartender, but a good man, I'm not gonna help you seduce him."

"What if," and he was glad he was able to test this on her, to see if she bought it, before saying it to Token, "I'm not just looking for a one-night fling?"

Her brows popped up, not believing what she was hearing.

"What if I'm interested in pursuing him, legit?" He smiled, trying the shy one, knowing it would make him look earnest and awkward with the situation. Which he would be, if he weren't lying.

"Seriously?" she eyed his face, trying to judge his intention. When he nodded, she twisted her nose, but reached over and jotted down a number, folded the paper and offered it out to him. "Careful what you do with this, Blanc, and don't fuck with him."

It was some really good advice, in hindsight. He's seen what Token did to guys who fucked with him.

The phone rang. And rang. And then, "Hello?"

"Hello. Is this Token?"


He sighed. He had worried a little that Ellie would give him a fake number to get him out of her house, "This is Blanc, please-don't-hang-up."

There was a long, long pause and then, "Yeah?"

Another relieved sigh, "I just wanted to talk to you. I felt like we had some chemistry, and I thought about what you said, and you're right."

"About what?" he was still guarded, but at least he hadn't hung up yet.

"About me and long-term relationships. And I realize that if I want to get with you—and I do—I'm going to have to change."

"And?" just a touch of curiosity. It was all Blanc needed.

"I was hoping you might give me a chance?"

A pause, so he was at least considering it. "If I do, we need ground rules."


"First, while we're dating we will be exclusive, so no sexual contact—of any kind—with other people."

"Of course," Blanc didn't like it, but he'd known it was coming.

"I get ten dates before you throw the towel in, and I set the pace."

"Ten?" Was it going to take that long? Blanc held back the groan. "Okay."

"Finally, no masturbating."

"WHAT?" Blanc didn't mean to be quite that loud. "You've got to be kidding…"

"I am," Token laughed, it was more delicate than he appeared. "I just needed to see what your reaction was. You were being so compliant."

He didn't mean to, but he shuddered when Token said that last word. It may have been his imagination, but it was sexy. It also made him realize how closely Token had been watching him, realizing that he was not the compliant type. "Just trying to start off right."

"Then be yourself," Token said, then laughed, "Just only with me."

Blanc didn't bother pointing out the contradiction. It wouldn't do anything further his cause. He needed Token to think he was serious if he was ever going to get him into bed.

"I think I can do that."

He'd already jerked off once before the date, but if his body's reaction to a simple kiss on the cheek was a sign, he would need another one afterwards. Token slipped his hand into Blanc's as they began walking down the street. His skin was smooth, but not soft, and very warm.

"Thanks for giving me—"

Token waved his free hand, "No more of that. You're grateful, I'm grateful, everybody's grateful. Now c'mon, I don't want to miss the play."

"Play?" Blanc did a quick check in his head, but there were no theatres this direction within walking distance. "But there aren't any…oh."

As they turned the corner, the well-lit school greeted them, with an outside sign that read, "FIHS Presents 'Coming Out Clean.'"

"A high-school production?" he tried to sound more excited.

Token smirked, but didn't stop leading him in, "Not my top choice, I admit, but currently jobless leaves very little entertainment funds. Anyways, it's not what you do, it's who you're with, right?"

Blanc didn't respond. He'd forgotten that Token was currently jobless and it made him uneasy. But still he was being pulled along, first to get tickets (only $5 each) and then into the auditorium, the familiar high school smells assaulting his nose. He scrunched his face, letting himself be led in, settling down at their ticket seats. Least he wouldn't see anyone he knew.

Token leaned over, his warm breath brushing Blanc's neck, stirring a reaction that such a subtle touch should not evoke. "I am sorry about this." He half-heartedly chuckled while adding, "It's not exactly how I envisioned our first date either."

He was fairly certain he was melting into the cheap chairs with his mouth so close. When Token started to move away, Blanc did what he could to keep him close, "What did you envision?"

"Well," and his warmth was back, close enough for kisses, although none were given, "I figured we would go to Dominique's for dinner, catch a sappy show at the Main Street Theatre, and then head to my place for some dessert. You like cheesecake, right?"

Blanc wanted to eat cheesecake off Token's naked body. He shifted in his seat. "Yeah," he cleared his throat, "I like cheesecake."

The play was surprisingly good. Blanc was anticipating some of the stars to be in actual productions in a few years. His thumb unconsciously rubbed against Token's joint as they walked, pondering on the play. They had walked in the opposite direction of his apartment as they had been talking, although now Token was leading them back toward his place.

"I hope it won't be too much of a letdown, but I don't actually have any cheesecake at the moment," Token glanced over, grinning, "You seemed pretty excited about it earlier."

"Too bad, I was looking forward to it."

He hummed, lifting their hands to his lips for a kiss to the back of Blanc's knuckles. "If I'd invite you up for coffee and cheesecake, you might get the wrong idea. So no cheesecake tonight."

"Understood," he sighed, annoyed with how readily his body responded to Token's touches. "Perhaps another night then…" they were nearing his apartment, and he needed to escape; not Token's company, but his touch and his breath and the nothing that would come of it—tonight.

"Most definitely," they stopped outside his complex, and Blanc restrained himself from making any sort of move. It was one of Token's stupid rules. Well, not completely stupid, if you were on his side of the line. Their hands slid apart and Blanc pulled out his key, fiddling with the ring.

Token stepped closer, his one hand slipping around Blanc's neck, pulling him in for a kiss. It was not a good-night kiss. It was a morning-after-a-great-night-of-sex kiss and Blanc fell into it easily, losing himself in those lips and that tongue. The embrace was more intimate than passionate, but his body stirred and Blanc pressed against Token, who let the kiss and contact linger.

He broke away, slowly, leaving Blanc a little breathless and a lot turned on. Token's hand slipped from his neck, thumb brushing his jaw line. He licked his lips, eyes hungry as he studied Blanc's face. With much effort, he stepped back, easing his hand away. Blanc wasn't sure how he did it. It was obvious he wanted him as much as he was wanted. How could he start that kiss and not take it somewhere? But at least there was a tremble in his breath…he wasn't made of stone. "Good night."

"Good night," Blanc said, watching as Token walked away with a small smile on his lips. When he was out of sight, he raked his fingers through his hair, roughly, to pull himself down to reality. He was never going to survive ten dates.

The second date had been a casual dinner, and then a long walk through a dark park. Obviously meant for them to get to know one another, Blanc was only slightly annoyed that Token avoided answering questions for as often as he asked them. He didn't seem comfortable talking about college, work or money. Instead, he discussed abstract things, like favorite music, what he saw in his future, and what his family had been like.

The third date was a movie, during which Token's fingers touched and stroked Blanc's arm to the point that he had to go into the bathroom to calm himself down. After the movie they grabbed a bite to eat, laughing at something ridiculous. The kiss of the night was just as the first, offering nothing more that night, but promising more in the future. It was infuriating.

Dates four, five, and six were much the same, and Blanc knew what Token was doing—he was forcing him to get to know him, all the while reminding him of their physical chemistry, as if each touch and breath didn't elicit near-arousal in him.

And then there was date seven. For this, they went to LC, the club that Ellie ran. It was fitting, since that was where they met, but it was weird, being strapped to one person as they got drinks, as they danced, as they danced, god as they danced. The minimal contact rule went down the drain as they pressed together, bodies grinding in the heavy bass.

He was somewhere beyond hard by the fourth song, Token's thigh pressed against his crotch, one hand up his shirt, short nails digging into his skin. The other man's eyes were filled with lust and Blanc was certain if they had slipped off the dance floor that he could have convinced Token to fuck like bunnies, as they say. But even as the thought crossed his mind, a hand touched his shoulder and his eyes were torn from Token to Cratt, who was looking edible in something that was fitted and mostly see-through. "Mind if I cut in?"

Blanc changed dance partners all the time; it was as natural as breathing. But he didn't answer, right away, looking back to Token for permission. Token didn't give a direct order, but he wrapped his arms around Blanc's neck, growling "Mine" before he began sucking, with obvious intent to leave a mark.

He looked over to Cratt, who looked a little surprised that Blanc was permitting such possessive behavior, "Sorry, taken."

Cratt nodded and vanished back into the crowd. Blanc gasped as Token bit down and dragged his thigh against his arousal. He pressed his mouth against Token's hair, muffling any noise that tried to escape. And still, the other man was pressing, rubbing, pushing him to his limit. Blanc groaned, hands tightening on his back, "You need to stop."

Token hummed, lips stopping but not leaving, "Don't you want me to make you come?"

"You're…going to…" he dropped his head, burying his mouth against Token's shoulder as the long fingers began stroking him through his jeans, creating a muffled cry as he released. The hand rubbed a few more times, making him shudder and cling against Token. "You…"

"Me?" He eased his body away from Blanc, grinning like a cat who got in the cream. "Did you enjoy it?"

Blanc worked up a pathetic glare, "As if you need to ask." Then he shifted, becoming aware of the wet, making a face, "But now I've got to use the little boys' room."

Token smiled, pulling him close for a languid kiss and then sighing, pressing his own arousal against Blanc before releasing him, "Don't keep me waiting."

He headed straight to the bathroom, wet some paper towels and slipped into a stall to clean up. The dark colored jeans hid any marks made by the water, and as he flushed the toilet, he leaned back against the bathroom stall door. He'd never lost control in his pants, not since he was fifteen and dating a very forward eighteen-year-old. Of course, he'd also never gone so long without sex.

But he wouldn't allow himself to be wrapped around Token's finger. It was like he was trying to change him like some goddamn woman would. He liked his life, and he sure as hell wasn't going to settle down for some ex-bartender without income. He nodded resolutely to himself and stepped out, heading back to the dance floor to where he left Token.

He was dancing by himself, and looked completely comfortable there, body moving to the rhythm. His long limbs didn't make him uncoordinated or clumsy, just fluid motion. Blanc watched him, caught by the spectacle of grace, until someone stepped up and started dancing with him. It wasn't close, but it was trying to work its way closer, and Token was watching, eying him.

Blanc cut through the crowd, not moving toward him with purpose or eagerness, but he was used to moving in these tight spaces and arrived quickly. In time to see the intruder beginning to press up on Token. For his part, Token just shifted back, giving space without offending. Blanc came from the side, easily slipping an arm around him, and pulling him into a kiss of blatant ownership, making him wonder what was with him.

Token responded in kind, fingers tucking in the waist of his pants at his hip. Just like that the third man was pushed out of the dancing and it was just the two of them again. Blanc liked it this way, the lean body pressed against him as they danced, no longer as hot and heavy, but that didn't stop fingers from wandering, exploring, finding flesh and burning it with a touch.

They stayed late into the night, not talking, just pressing close and dancing, exchanging words when they got drinks and grabbed food, but otherwise not much was said. They shared a cab, dropping Token off in a middle-tier income area, and though Blanc watched, Token didn't go into any buildings before the cab turned the corner. Blanc wondered if he was hiding something, or if he was being paranoid. But it didn't escape his attention that he'd never been to Token's place and that as far as he knew, Token didn't have a new job yet.

What kind of game was he playing?

He had just put on his socks for date eight when there was a knock on his door. Grabbing his shoes, he went to answer the door, curious who it was since Token always waited out front. Glancing through the peephole, his date was there, his jeans and tee-shirt looking more casual than he'd indicated about the place they were going. He opened the door, "Hello."

"Hello," he purred, stepping in and closing the door behind him. He was carrying a white bag with French writing—it looked fancy.

"Change of venue?"

Token nodded, his one arm slithering around Blanc's waist, pulling him flush against him before kissing. His body seemed especially hot and Blanc's arms wrapped around him, drawing him closer as their tongues teased one another. His one hand reached over, sliding the door's lock into place, a motion that did not disrupt Token in the least.

It was a surprise that he was the one to pull away first and Token's mouth dropped to his neck, making Blanc's thoughts stumble for a moment, "What's in the bag?"

"Cheesecake," he said, lips stopping their pleasurable assault for that single word. His hand slipped beneath Blanc's shirt, the bag being dropped on the floor before the second hand began fumbling with the front of his pants.

Holy shit, finally, was all Blanc could think. He groaned, turning and pressing Token to the door, pressing his shoulders back and pulling away, "We should put it in the fridge first."

Token nodded, breathing heavy, eyes eager and lustful. He looked so very fuckable. It took all Blanc's will power to grab the bag and throw it in the fridge. When he turned around, Token was there, hands wrapping around his wrists, pulling him instinctively toward the bedroom.

Blanc didn't know what had happened to cause this eager change, but he in no way was going to stop it. He followed, his body responding to the burning touch that started on his wrists and began to explore his body as they shuffled into the bedroom. When he went to strip off his shirt, Token stopped him, and for one excruciating moment Blanc was waiting for everything to go in reverse.

It didn't. Token just slowly unwrapped Blanc while he stood there, getting harder with every touch and kiss, and there were a lot of them. By the time Token had him down to his boxers he was about ready to explode, but it was about then that he remembered how he'd wanted to taste every inch of Token's body, before he'd even known his name.

He stripped Token much faster and with loads less grace, but soon he had him on his back on the bed, braid unfurled and body exposed. Blanc started at the tips of his fingers, kissing, sucking, licking and slowly working his way up the mile of limb until his kisses were nestled in the little nook of his shoulder and Token whined, a deep throaty call of need.

Blanc looked up, catching Token's eyes. What they both wanted was evident. But it would be nearly an hour until they both caved and stopped the teasing, giving in to their most primal need.

When he awoke, his first thought was that he felt better than he had for weeks. His second was that he was surprised Token wasn't a cuddler. He was lying on his back, deep asleep, completely relaxed. Blanc smiled and hated himself for it.

He also hated that he'd enjoyed the sex more than he'd imagined he would. How could something be better than the imagination, where anything is possible? Would the next time be as good? He sat up, easing from the bed to not disturb Token. There shouldn't be a next time. He'd promised ten dates, but only because he'd needed to get him into bed.

And now he had. He pulled on sweats and a tee shirt and left the room, quietly closing the door and padding into the kitchen to start some coffee. It was only so good because he hadn't had some for a while, just like when he'd tried to give up coffee for the new year. When he'd caved two weeks in, the first cup had been fantastic. But eventually it just became coffee again.

Sure, some cups were better than others, but if you kept drinking the same coffee all the time, eventually you wouldn't notice how good the coffee was. The same could be said of sex. He threw two slices of bread in the toaster before getting out the butter and knife. He'd promised ten dates, so he had two to go, and if he could get sex out of those two times, then he'd realize that the sex was just sex. Then he could skip out without any bad feelings, and really he'd have followed Token's rules, so there couldn't be any hard feelings.

He dropped into the chair with his buttered toast and took a bite. Except there would be hard feelings, because Token obviously wasn't going into this just as a game or a fuck. He was going in with feelings and some level of caring and if—when—Blanc dropped him, he'd be upset. This kinda irritated Blanc, which he imagined was the point of all of this. Making Blanc realize what his player attitude did to the men he pulled along.

There was movement in the bedroom and Blanc took another bite, unsure how he was going to handle this. Token stepped out of the bedroom, wearing his clothes from the night before, hair pulled into a ponytail, making him look a bit more gay than normal. He was patting his pockets, making sure he had everything, before he sat down, straddling Blanc's lap and stealing a buttery kiss. "So I guess this is good bye then, huh?"

"What?" Blanc blinked. Was he being dumped?

"Well," he took a bite of the toast still being held and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "I was supposed to get ten dates and then we'd have the amazing sex. But that night at the club was too much for me. I was hoping ten would be enough to realize what you'd be missing when you dumped me, but I don't think eight'll do it. So, rather than continue, when I know you were just doing this to get me into bed, I'll take my seven dates and one glorious night and leave with my head high. Mutual partings and all that."

Blanc was on the verge of gaping, "What?"

He smirked, "Which part do I need to explain?"

"You knew?"

"That you just wanted to get me into bed? Yeah. Or at least that was your thought processing. Why else would you suddenly change your mind about wanting to date someone? I'm not stupid. Especially since you're not interested in something with someone who can't hold up their end of the financials," he rolled his eyes. "Any other questions?"

He wanted to ask if perhaps they could have a repeat performance of last night, but thought better of it. "So we're over?"

"Yep," he wasn't chipper when he said it, but he could have been more down. Probably expected these results from the beginning. "But," another buttery kiss, "if you change your mind, I left my address on your nightstand. Come on by."

Token unmounted and walked out, simple as that. Blanc was still stunned, his toast getting cold.

When he opened the refrigerator later that day, he saw the bag with the French writing. La Petite Joie. It wasn't a bakery he was familiar with, but he didn't know every part of town. He peeked inside and saw two individual-sized cheesecakes, both coated in a dark chocolate shell. He debated eating one, then closed the door and went into his bedroom, staring at the address where Token lived.

It wasn't the address where he'd dropped him off that night. So he had been lying. And yet.

And yet he didn't care. Token's stupid plan had worked. It seemed seven dates and one night of amazing sex was enough.

The cab dropped him off in front of a high-end apartment complex where a man out front let him in when he said he was here to visit Token Durmond. How could he live here though? Maybe he'd gotten a job as a janitor? He asked the security man who was sitting there where he could find Token and he laughed. Handing him a key, he instructed Blanc to go to room 909.

Very confused, he did as he was instructed, the key leaving an imprint on his palm from holding it so tightly. He got off, walking down the long hall, passing several other suites until he reached his destination. And then he hesitated, looking at the key. Could he just walk in? Shifting outside the door, he finally put the key in, turned the lock and opened the door an inch. Then he knocked, as loudly as he could, and opened it a little further, "Hello? Token?"

The living room was just as he'd expect from Token, if he had the money which his housing seemed to indicate: black leather couches, a large television and a pool table with room left over. He couldn't see the kitchen from the doorway, but he saw the hall that led to other rooms, which is where Token was emerging.

His hair was braided once again and he was more casual than he'd ever seen him in black sweats and a muscle shirt with fresh sweat stains, "Hello."

Blanc was frozen. His hand was still on the door knob. Token grinned, stepping over to pull out the key and close the door behind Blanc, having to forcefully move him so the door could shut. When he still didn't respond, Token kissed him, fingers sneaking beneath his shirt, "So I'm guessing you've decided that dating wasn't so bad?"

Blanc nodded. Words were not coming.

"I'm guessing I have some explaining to do."

"Uh, yeah," he finally managed as they began walking to the leather couch. "You can't afford this place on a bartender's salary."

"Yeah, that was just kind of a gig to keep me occupied and stalk a very attractive man who I'd later realize was a player."

"What? You…"

"It wasn't really stalking, since it was a public space, but yeah. I saw you there once while I was talking to Ellie about being bored out of my mind and she mentioned working for her and I may have been staring at you when I agreed." He smirked, "Amusingly, you're also the reason I was fired, since I tended to break things when you came near the bar. Ellie didn't mind, since I always paid, but the manager found it endlessly frustrating."

"So you were just working there to keep busy?"

"Yeah. My family owns Hitlon Enterprises, which does apartments mainly, but we dabble in other things, like that delicious French bakery downstairs."

"Your family owns Hitlon Enterprises?"

"Well, just me now, mostly, but those are just boring details."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why did we go to that high school play?"

Token moved so his one leg was nestled between Blanc's, an arm easily wrapping around his shoulders, "Because, I look into people I'm interested in. I talked to Carta, which was very amusing, by the way. She only knew me as the bartender at LC, and she said if I wasn't looking for a quickie I should just give up, cause you didn't date, and you definitely didn't date low-income folks." He laughed at Blanc's expression. "So, since I knew my money could woo you, I went about wooing you all on my own, once I had the opportunity."

"So you pretended not to have money to make it harder?"

"More like the prince who pretends to be a pauper to see what his knights are really like."

"It was a test?" He was half irritated and half disgusted by this.

Token sighed, shifting so he was straddling Blanc's lap, kissing his forehead, a frustrated frown on his face, "It wasn't a test like you're probably thinking. I just wanted to make sure you wanted Token Durmond, not Token Durmond Hitlon."

"Can I ask a question then?" his palms rubbed against Token's thighs.

"Of course."

"Why'd you not use your last two dates?"

"Because they wouldn't have become much of dates, mostly just sex. Do you have any idea how hard it was to not jump you each time? Plus, the deceiving was getting to me. I didn't want to lie to you anymore."

He slipped his fingers behind Token's neck, pulling him forward for a kiss, the electricity bubbling just beneath the surface. "I have an idea."

Sighing softly against Blanc's lips, Token tried squirming his body closer, "Does it involve not leaving a bedroom for several hours?"

"Yes," he admitted, "but not just that."

"Oh," Token pulled back, curious. "Then what else?"

"Well," his fingers slipped from the neck, trailing down the sweaty body, all his effort in keeping his eyes on Token's, "first we grab a bite at Dominique's, then we go see a sappy play at Main Street, and then we go back to my place for some cheesecake."

He smiled, "Sounds like a date."