Brawler by Scott Hildreth

perfection.
    Because he was gorgeous. And imperfect.
    Desperately wanting him to finish his chicken so I could suck his cock, I peered across the table. He was one bite away from a blowjob.
    Satisfaction washed over me as I watched him spear the last piece of chicken with his fork and raise it to his mouth. I hurriedly finished my meal and stood up, prepared to take our dishes to the kitchen and begin my sexual advance.
    I reached for his plate. “Looks like you enjoyed it.”
    He looked up and grinned. “Is there more?”
    Are you fucking kidding me?
    “Uhhm. Sure,” I responded, even though I wanted to tell him no. “Do you want more?”
    “If it’s no trouble.”
    It’s not any trouble, but you’re cock blocking yourself and you don’t even know it.
    “No, not at all,” I said.
    I took his plate to the kitchen and picked through the platter of chicken, looking for the smallest piece. Tempted to cut one of them in half, but afraid he’d raise an eyebrow at the alteration, I reluctantly chose the smallest breast and grabbed the remaining asparagus.
    “Here you go,” I said, handing him the plate.
    “You’re not going to eat more?”
    My appetite was elsewhere. “I’m stuffed.”
    I sat down and waited anxiously for him to finish his meal. Not having knowledge of my plans to suck him into a state of sexual bliss, he ate slowly and talked about topics I had very little interest in discussing.
    A piece of chicken dangled from the tip of his fork. “So how long have you had your car?”
    What in the fuck does that have to do with anything?
    I had the car for nothing short of forever. It was the only car I ever owned, and I’d driven it from my sophomore year in high school until its most recent venture to work, one day prior. “Uhhm, for like eight years. I’ve had it since I was sixteen.”
    “You just don’t see many of those old school Corollas around anymore.”
    No shit. Most people can afford to replace them.
    “Yeah,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “It’s a classic.”
    He ate the piece of chicken, took a sip of wine, and inspected the asparagus. After much thought, he stabbed a piece and raised it to his mouth. After nibbling at it leisurely until all that remained was the short stalk that was attached to the tines of his fork, he removed the remaining piece with his fingers.
    I wanted to scream.
    He looked at it, and upon accepting it as edible, nibbled on it endlessly.
    Frustrated beyond belief, I counted the remaining pieces of asparagus.
    Six.
    I wished I had given him three.
    My eyes went to the chicken. It appeared untouched short of the one nibble he had taken.
    “Are you full?” I asked, the tone of my voice filled with hope.
    “Just taking my time. It’s so good. I can’t believe you’re not going to have any more. You normally eat like a man.”
    I shrugged. “I’m just full.”
    Becoming increasingly irritated with each passing second, I ran through the few possibilities I could come up with to ruin his meal.
    I could have talked about gross stuff and tried to ruin his appetite, but decided it might curb my sexual desire. My small dining table didn’t have a cloth on it, so tugging against the table cloth and causing a spill wasn’t an option, and starting a fire was out of the question. While he chewed on another small piece of chicken, I gnawed on my lower lip and continued my line of thought.
    Being in his presence as a friend was becoming annoying. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy his company, because I did, but I was far too attracted to him to continue without at least trying to get in his pants.
    The wine.
    The table was small enough that I just might be able to make it work. I reached for the glass at the exact instant he began to strike up a new conversation.
    “So what about you?” he asked. “When was your last relationship?”
    I smacked the back of my hand against the glass, toppling it over. The wine spilled with perfection, all over his plate.
    And his