Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

L eo awoke much earlier than he'd expected. It was barely light outside. Half the blame was probably down to the unfamiliar bed—the other half was squarely on the unfamiliar guy underneath him. Somehow in the middle of the night they'd unspooned, and Tristan had rolled over onto his back. Leo had apparently followed him. He was lying on his side, his head resting on Tristan's shoulder, his arm flung over his chest and his leg hooked over him. Tristan's arm was around him, and he was…he was petting Leo's nape gently?

Leo shifted, rolling away from him so that he could prop himself up onto an elbow.

Tristan blinked at him. "Morning."

"Morning." Leo twisted around looking for his pants, which would hopefully have his phone in the pocket, which would tell him what time it actually was. It might have been Sunday, but Leo had things to do. Not very interesting things, but necessary things. He had to cook all this week's work lunches and freeze them, because he'd read an article about how much money he could save in a year if he stopped buying his lunch every day. So far, he was only five weeks into the experiment, and he was pretty sure the benefit of saving a few thousand dollars a year was coming at the cost of losing his will to live. "What time is it? And were you stroking my hair?"

"About seven," Tristan said. "And is there a non-creepy way to answer that second question?"

Leo laughed, his face heating up. "It's cute."

"That's me," Tristan said, with a smile that seemed a little wonky and unsure of itself. "Cute."

It was true. Like this, with his hair loose and unkempt and his face still bearing traces of sleep, he looked softer, somehow vulnerable, and Leo got the feeling that he was seeing the real Tristan for the first time, rather than his rent-boy persona.

He winced internally and wondered if thinking of Tristan as a rent boy made him a bad person. Except, that was what Tristan was. Acknowledging it didn't make Leo judgemental. It just made him a realist. Any issues Leo had with it were his problem, not Tristan's. Right now he honestly couldn't bring himself to care, because Tristan was gorgeous, and Leo wanted more of him.

Leo leaned in impulsively, cupped Tristan's face, and kissed him. Tristan made a surprised sound, but then he was into the kiss and wrapping his arms around Leo's shoulders and pulling him closer. Leo went with it, enjoying the brush of warm skin against his and the tickle of Tristan's leg hair against his thigh. Leo had been planning on ignoring his morning wood, but Tristan was sporting a pretty solid case of his own, and he slid his hands down to Leo's arse and tugged at him until Leo was sprawled across him, their bodies plastered together. He pulled back from the kiss and gave Leo a smile that was much more like his usual smirk. "Wanna get off?" He rolled his hips and the hard line of his cock brushed against Leo's own erection, making Leo's nerve endings sizzle and his hips buck forward chasing more .

"Yeah," Leo breathed out, just in case there had been any doubt.

Tristan hummed and rocked up against him and Leo ground right back, because apparently his body was just going to do wherever the fuck it wanted. Case in point, when had his hand gotten tangled in Tristan's hair and pulled his head back like that? Still, it left Leo with a gorgeous long stretch of throat to pepper kisses against, so he went ahead and did that while he rolled his hips and his cock throbbed in response to the intoxicating little gasps Tristan was making.

"Wait," Tristan said urgently. He wiggled sideways and snagged some lube off the bedside drawers. He propped himself on his elbows just long enough to squirt some into his hand, then he was arranging them so they were pressed close again. This time he wrapped a broad, slippery palm around their dicks, and it felt fucking phenomenal —and that was even before he began to move, jerking them off in a series of short, desperate strokes that were just the right side of too rough and utterly fucking perfect.

"Shit," Leo hissed. Tristan let out a breathless laugh and kissed him. Leo got lost in the sensation of teeth and tongues and skin on skin, and his cock throbbed as his climax came racing toward him with hardly any warning. He barely managed to gasp out "Tris!" before he shot his load, his toes curling with the sheer intensity of it.

Tristan gave a couple more strokes before he tensed and grunted, then he was coming as well, which would have made Leo feel better about his own hair trigger, except he was currently incapable of giving a fuck. Instead, he just rode the aftershocks, letting the tremors run through him as his entire body slumped and he took shallow, shaky breaths and waited to regain some sort of control over his body.

Jesus, Tristan was amazing at this. Actually, Tristan was amazing, full stop. Leo lifted his head from where he'd buried it in the side of Tristan's throat only to find Tristan staring at the ceiling with a fucked-out smile on his face, and honestly, Leo could relate.

He wondered if he could lose IQ points through his dick, because he definitely felt less intelligent than he had previously.

Worth it .

Once he'd caught his breath, Leo rolled off to the side.

"So," Tristan said, leaning out of bed just far enough to grab a crumpled T-shirt and using it to clean them up, "that was amazing."

"Yeah."

Leo was surprised to feel warm fingers entwining with his, Tristan's touch gentle. It was nice, and not what he'd expected at all. There was something almost fragile in Tristan's tone when he said, "Um. I was thinking, we could maybe do it again? The date thing? And the sex, obviously, because Jesus, that was mind-blowing. But mainly we could, um. Date? As a couple?"

Leo turned his head to find Tristan watching him and wearing a small, tentative smile. He knew he should say no for the sake of his parents, but the problem was that he didn't want to say no. He didn't want to care about the optics of his dad's as-yet non-existent campaign.

Just for once, he wanted to stop caring what his parents thought, and he wanted to keep the gorgeous guy lying next to him, whatever his mother and her friends might think.

He must have been quiet too long because Tristan's smile was growing dimmer by the second. "Unless you don't want?—"

"No, I want," Leo interrupted. "I want very much. I mean yes. Again. Please. "

The smile came back in full force, lighting up Tristan's face like a Christmas tree. "Really?"

"Really," Leo said, and smiled broadly at Tristan's delight. "I'd like to date you."

Tristan rolled so they were facing and pressed their foreheads together. "Awesome," he said. "That's so awesome." Then he was kissing Leo again, and it was somehow different from every other time—softer, warmer, more tender—it took Leo a second to place it, but he couldn't help grinning against Tristan's mouth when he figured out what the difference was.

This was a boyfriend kiss.

Leo sighed happily and opened his mouth as Tristan probed deeper with his tongue. He was just weighing up the inherent romanticism of showering together against the advantages of going back to his own place—namely decent water pressure and zero black mould—when they were interrupted by a burst of Britney Spears' Toxic at full volume. Tristan pulled back out of reach with a groan and fumbled for his mobile. "Work call," he said, brow creased. "Do you mind?" The phone continued to blare as Tristan waited for his answer.

"Uh, sure. Yeah, go ahead. I'm going to, um…" Leo swallowed around a sudden, solid lump in his throat. "Check out that light."

"Okay, great! If we do have a ladder, it's in the cupboard under the stairs. Bulbs as well, I think."

And with that he hit the green button and answered the call. "This is Tristan. Yeah? When for? Tonight? I mean it's short notice, but I can squeeze you in. What exactly are you looking for? I have a sliding scale, depending on exactly what you need, so if you give me the details, I can give you a price."

Leo shoved the blankets back and sat on the side of the bed, fumbling for his jeans and yanking them on along with last night's underwear and pulling his shirt on in a series of jerky motions. He ignored his shoes and scurried out the door, his stomach a tight ball as behind him, he heard Tristan laugh and say, "Oh yeah, I can definitely do that for you. Now, about payment?—"

He shut the door before he could hear any more and made his way to the bathroom, where he pissed then splashed cold water on his face and took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to calm his racing heartbeat.

He could do this. He could cope. And if he couldn't, he'd have to learn. For now, he'd focus on fixing the hallway light.

Leo was shaky as he checked the under-stairs utility cupboard and, as expected, didn't find a step ladder. He found a lightbulb though, and considered that a win. He grabbed a chair from the kitchen and set it underneath the light in the hallway. He could just reach it, on tiptoes.

God .

It was Tristan's job . Leo was trying really hard to be rational about it, but he didn't like it. Not because a relationship with Tristan would mean that Leo wasn't the only one touching him and kissing him and making love with him, but because it was dangerous . What did Tristan do to protect himself from violent guys? Did he check in with someone? Did he carry anything for self-defence? Had he ever been assaulted? It was just so risky, and Leo's stomach clenched at the thought of Tristan getting hurt.

And, okay, yeah, he couldn't deny he didn't love the idea of sharing Tristan with anyone else, but that was his own baggage to unpack, or prejudices to dismantle, or something. Because what he knew on an intellectual level and what he felt on an instinctive level didn't match up. And how could anyone sell their body like that, without selling even a little piece of their soul each time ?

Leo's fingers trembled against the old lightbulb as he unscrewed it.

Yeah, that was bullshit. That was the upper middle-class Vaucluse boy making himself heard, when he needed to take a seat and shut the fuck up. Just because Leo wouldn't have been able to engage in sex work without it damaging him emotionally didn't mean that Tristan couldn't. If Tristan said he liked his job, then Leo had no right whatsoever to disbelieve him. Because whatever they had together was doomed to failure if Leo was going to be that guy—the one who looked down on what Tristan did because he thought he knew better.

The bulb finally came free with a weird scraping sound and a tiny shower of grit.

Leo climbed down from the chair and got the new bulb. He screwed it in, then got down and flicked the switch near the front door.

The light turned on.

It was good to have at least one success of the day. Now, if only he could get over himself long enough to not mess things up with Tristan.

When he took the chair back to the kitchen, he almost walked into Harry.

Harry yelped and took a step backwards, right into Jack's arms. "Oh! Oh God! You scared me. I wasn't expecting… Leo ? Oh wow."

Harry looked sleep-rumpled and adorable and his glasses were askew, but he clearly knew how to put two and two together.

"Hi," Leo said, his cheeks heating.

"Morning," Jack said. "Coffee?"

"That would be a life saver." Leo put the chair back at the little table. Then he sat on it, because why the hell not? He was already here, they'd already seen him, and upstairs Tristan was arranging to meet a stranger for sex. His knees were allowed to feel a little wobbly.

Harry sat next to him. He was wearing fuzzy pants with dalmatians on them, and a T-shirt that was so faded it was almost see-through. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Leo lied. "I'm actually really good. Tristan and I?—"

"Please don't tell me the details," Harry said.

"I…" He blinked. "I wasn't going to. I was going to say we're seeing each other. We had a date last night, and things went really well, and we've decided to keep seeing each other."

God. Why did none of those words sound like English? He ratcheted up a smile.

Harry poked his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. "Um…wow. Congrats? That's…that's?—"

"A sign of the apocalypse, probably," Jack said. "But yeah, congrats, Leo. Are you smiling or are you in pain?"

So much for his smile. "Smiling!"

"Are you sure?" Harry asked tentatively.

Without his fake smile to fall back on, Leo had no defences at all. "I…I really like him, but…" He lowered his voice. "His job is, well, you know."

Harry's eyebrows tugged together. "I mean, that shouldn't get in the way too much. It's not like he does it every day."

Leo sighed and wondered how to explain without sounding like, well, his mum. "I don't object to the work itself," he said. "I'd never judge Tristan's choices. It's just, it's risky. And I worry for him."

"I almost got punched once," Harry said, with a knowing nod.

God. Harry was so kind and sweet. If someone had punched him, then Tristan probably got beaten up even more regularly, because Tristan was a shit stirrer, no question. Leo couldn't imagine him ever shutting his mouth.

"And Jack almost murdered me for realsies."

"That was an accident!" Jack exclaimed, while Leo picked his jaw up off the floor.

"It was attempted murder, babe. I almost died !" But Harry was, for some weird fucking reason, laughing.

"I didn't know my sister was a paying client. I just thought you were an arsehole! And I didn't know you had weird allergies!" Jack was laughing, too, and none of this made any sense. Jack's sister?

"I thought you were gay?" The question fell out of Leo's mouth.

"Oh, I am," Harry said. "Well, I thought I was ace at first, but it turns out I'm Jacksexual." He threw Jack an adoring look.

"You should just say demi," Jack said. "Jacksexual sounds like you can only get off if you wank."

"Oooh." Harry nodded. "Good point." His lips quirked. "Or maybe it sounds like I can only get off to The Nightmare before Christmas ."

"Idiot," Jack said fondly.

"How were you an ace rent boy?" Leo blurted out. Harry and Jack stared . Leo flinched back. "God, I mean, sorry, that is none of my business—the hows, the wherefores and the actual mechanics. I mean, not that attraction even comes into it at all, right? Probably. So it wouldn't matter if you can't get—I mean, there are pills for that. Jesus, of course there are. I am so, so sorry for opening my mouth."

Harry blinked at him. "I wasn't a rent boy. I was a Bad Boyfriend."

"You were a—a what? "

Jack sat down at the table. "Oh, fuck. You think Tristan is a rent boy."

Harry tugged at Jack's sleeve. "He thinks I'm a rent boy!"

Jack shrugged. "Yeah, but he thinks Tristan's a rent boy, and he still wants to date him. Holy shit. That date last night must've been really something!"

Leo was at least ten steps behind in this conversation. "Is nobody a rent boy? But—but the dates . For money ."

Harry bit his lip and his brow furrowed. "It's like— you know that thing real estate agents do, right?"

"Maybe," Leo hedged, because real estate agents did all sorts of things. He'd never before considered that they might be charging people for sex, but then again, the Sydney property market was brutal, so who knew? Maybe a couple of hundred bucks and a really spectacular bang was what it took to get an offer and acceptance signed these days. "What thing, specifically?"

"The thing where first they show you a string of shit properties so you despair of ever finding what you want, then they show you one that's still only halfway to what you want, but by then it looks like a palace. That thing."

"Tristan's…a real estate agent?" Whatever type of coffee this was, it wasn't working nearly fast enough.

Jack sighed. "Tristan takes people out on fake dates and acts like a wanker," he said bluntly. "He pisses off the parents so that when the real partner shows up at the next family gathering, the family loves them, because whatever their faults, at least they're not Tristan."

Leo was vaguely offended on Tristan's behalf. "He's not that bad!"

Harry laughed. "No, he is! That's the point! We're Bad Boyfriends. We have business cards and everything. Well, I'm not anymore, so it's just Tristan. But people hire us to be bad dates. Not to have sex ." He flushed. "Who would hire me ?—?"

"I would," Jack said before he could even finish that thought.

"So, just to be clear, Tristan's definitely not a rent boy?" Leo asked, his heart fluttering with something that shouldn't have been a relief, but definitely was.

But it wasn't Harry or Jack who answered him.

"No, darling," Tristan said, leaning in the doorway looking resplendent in a kimono, his hair falling in twists and waves down his shoulders. "I'm not a rent boy. Rent boys are professionals who get paid. I'm just a talented amateur."

Leo's cheeks flushed and he resisted the urge to crawl under the table to escape his mortification. "Oh, Jesus."

Tristan swanned into the kitchen. "I've been called worse."

"Worse than a rent boy?"

"No, worse than Jesus. Nothing wrong with rent boys." He sat down on Leo's lap and grinned at Harry and Jack. "I see you guys have officially met my boyfriend. He's a bit of a fucking idiot, but I like him."

And that, Leo decided with a rush of relief, gratitude and embarrassment, he could live with.