Brian brushed some hair away from his eyes as he nursed his second glass of Beam, his elbows braced on the bar's counter. He sighed, wondering what exactly had happened earlier. It had been a minor thing, really.  Justin had wanted to stay home, while he had wanted to go out.  It had been a hell of a week at Kinnetik - tremendous pressure had been placed on him and his staff by several important clients demanding meetings, as well as preparation for a new campaign pitch regarding a potentially lucrative new account - which had resulted in everyone working 12-hour days for the past week. They had finally wrapped everything up today, and all Brian had wanted to do was go out and work off some nervous energy afterward.  Maybe go to Babylon and do some dancing, to Woody's for a little pool, or even just out to dinner.  He hadn't even thought about it being Valentine's Day. That is, not until he had arrived home and noticed that Justin had placed some candles on the table and had made dinner for them; he had never really celebrated that hokey, corny holiday before anyway.  He didn't have to wait for someone at Hallmark to put aside one day for what they thought constituted the time to show love and appreciation for a significant other, spouse, boyfriend...whatever the fuck. Didn't he show that to Justin every day?  So why did this one day matter?

Maybe he hadn't expressed it so much in words - he never had been one to express in speech what he could more than adequately show in his actions - but he showed Justin all the time how he felt about him and his talent, and how much he appreciated him. And he had said the oh-so-important, three words to his lover on occasion; so what was the big problem with the two of them going out to expend some energy and just relax?  He hadn't asked Justin to fix him dinner - he didn't even know what time he was going to finish tonight.  It hadn't been his fault that by the time he got home, the dinner Justin had made was overcooked, the bread was dry and cold, and the candles that he had placed on the dining room table had melted down into an unattractive, gloppy mess.  The whole scene had reminded him of that damn picnic on the floor that Justin had attempted to persuade him to participate in - and THAT in turn had reminded him of a very painful time in their relationship; the start of a bleak, lonely period when his lover had briefly found solace in the arms of another man.  So why couldn't he understand his need to get away from all that?

Even now, he really didn't know how the whole episode had escalated. Justin had been at work all day in his studio, busy devoting his time to his own projects, but Brian had figured it couldn't have been nearly as stressful as what HE had experienced during the week.   Unfortunately, when he had casually mentioned that, it had been met with a stony stare and darkened, angry, blue eyes.  One thing had led to another, and now here he was, sitting at the counter at Benson's down the street, cradling his now lukewarm drink in his hand.  He had been perched so long on the counter stool that his ass was starting to become sore.  He shook his head; this was NOT how he had envisioned this evening at all.  And the unrelenting beat of some country tune that he didn't recognize, coming from an old-fashioned, Rockola jukebox over in the corner, wasn't helping his mood much, either.  For a Tuesday night, the place was packed, too.  He glanced around, noting the abundance of cowboy hats and leather boots amongst the patrons either belting back a beer or grouped around the dart boards and pool tables, and wondered what the fuck he was doing here.

He felt more than noticed a presence nearby then, as he glanced up to see a tall, dark-haired man standing close by, openly admiring him. He recognized the other man's interest in him instantly. Even though he presently felt like shit after what had happened earlier, it still helped to know that he could attract other men like the proverbial fly; in fact, this would be the fifth (or was it the sixth?) one tonight who had taken an interest in him, either covertly or openly.  Thinking he was being encouraged when Brian didn't reject him outright, the other man smirked at him as he slid into the barstool next to him, placing his squat liquor glass down on the bar.  "Buy you another one?" he drawled; his voice was a deep baritone, and smooth as glass. Brian had to admit; the guy was pretty good-looking.  He had a lightly muscled build that he could easily discern under the long-sleeved cotton shirt he was wearing, and his shoulders were nice and broad.  His eyes, too, were an intriguing shade of dark green.   Any other time before he would have definitely been interested. He always had been attracted to brunets.  At least, until a certain blond had come along.

He finally shook his head.  "No, thanks," he told him simply.

The other man nodded, a brief flash of disappointment skittering across his face as he replied, "Well, maybe next time, darlin'."  Picking up his glass, he scooted off the barstool and sauntered over to the other end of the bar to lean against it, right next to a thin man with dirty-blond hair and a mustache who was sporting a stud earring in his left ear.  Brian watched as the other man flirted with the blond and leaned in closer to him; he was met with a smile of invitation from the other man.  Well, he had to give the man credit, Brian thought; he certainly recovered from his disappointment quickly enough.

He tipped his head back then to drink the last of his Beam, feeling the familiar burn as it slid down his throat, before turning to go - until another man slid onto the barstool that had been previously occupied by the dark-haired man a few moments earlier.

Now this man intrigued him. Brian watched, slightly open-mouthed, as the bartender walked over to take the man's drink order.  It was obvious the man had been here frequently, since the bartender immediately knew what he wanted without being told - a gin and tonic and an appetizer of chicken wings.  He couldn't help noticing how the man's hair gleamed brightly under the lights that hung down from the wooden-beamed ceiling above as the man's slender, graceful fingers idly played with a matchbook clutched in his right hand.

The man seemed to sense he was being watched, as he turned his head slowly to acknowledge Brian's presence. The man's eyes flicked up and down Brian's body lazily before they came to rest on his face again, making Brian's pulse race; his desire for him was open and blatant.  Perhaps this might be a way for him to expend that restless energy he had been feeling all day after all, Brian couldn't help thinking. He bestowed one of his sexiest smiles on the other man in return, nodding back at him in acknowledgement.

"Been here before?" the other man asked him.  It was a pretty lame opening line, but Brian didn't mind; he was too fascinated with this stranger to care.  The man's voice was captivating, as was the rest of him.  He was wearing a tight, royal-blue tee shirt that outlined a lean chest underneath the open, buttery brown leather jacket he wore, matched with a pair of equally tight jeans partially hiding a pair of dark brown calf boots.

Brian licked his lips to wet them, suddenly realizing how dry they were despite the two drinks he had had earlier.  He signaled the bartender that he wanted a refill before replying, deciding he might want to stay here a bit longer after all.  His gaze slowly traveled down the man's torso, even lower toward the denim-clad thighs and the prominent bulge in the man's crotch before he settled his eyes back on the man's face, noting the slight pinkish tinge that appeared on his skin in reaction.  "Apparently not enough," he finally replied, his voice thick with lust.

The younger man's right brow lifted in question as Brian explained, "Or I would have noticed you before."

His companion smirked back at him with a sexy smile then.  "And I definitely would have noticed you."

Brian nodded, glancing down as something caught his eye on the counter; it was a brief flash, a glint of something metal that was reflected in the overhead lighting as the other man moved his hand slightly, but it was enough for him to find its source.  He noticed the platinum wedding band snugly wrapped around the other man's left ring finger.  As he lifted his eyes to catch his companion's gaze, it was obvious both knew what he was thinking.  "Your better half doesn't mind that you're here in this bar, trying to hook up with other men?" he asked pointedly.

The bartender arrived just then with the gin and tonic and chicken wings, along with Brian's refill of Beam, allowing the other man to take a large drink from his glass before responding with a shrug.  "Does it really matter to you?"

Brian was mesmerized by the sight of his companion's smooth skin as he tilted his head back briefly to take a swig from his glass - watching the plump, kissable lips wrap themselves around the rim as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.  He wondered how those lips would feel wrapped around something else, and he was tempted to reach over, grab the other man by the neck, and crash their lips together right then and there for a taste, but he knew there would be time later for that.  And he planned to explore those lips - and the rest of the man's body - thoroughly before the night was over.  He shook his head.  "No," he assured him with a smirk of his own as he forgot about everything and everyone else.  "Not a bit.  And neither does your name, either," he added.

The other man nodded, satisfied, as he placed his glass back down on the bar and picked up one of the greasy chicken wings to dip it into some ranch dressing on the plate; Brian's eyes darkened with arousal as the man seemed to take an inordinate amount of time holding the chicken between his lips before he pulled the now clean bone back out, licking his lips sensuously in response and issuing a soft moan of appreciation as he put what was left of it back down on the plate and proceeded to lick his fingers clean...one by one in a slow, tortuous fashion.  Eyeing Brian with a sly sort of gaze when he was finished, he pushed the plate of chicken wings toward him.  "You a meat lover?" was the brazen question.

Brian rolled his lips under in amusement as he felt his face warm; he hadn't been this turned on in a long time, and the hard-on straining in his pants was clear evidence of that.  "Definitely," he told him, his eyes boring into his companion's.  "When it's the right kind of meat."  He shook his head in a silent ‘no thanks' as the other man pushed the plate over a little more, swiping another chicken wing and repeating the same procedure as before, only prolonging the moan this time around.  It sounded to Brian like some other type of moan, and he was determined to hear that same sort of moan when the two of them engaged in some other type of activity later.