Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Six months later

" I t's not about the size, necessarily," Leo said to the red-faced twink who looked ready to melt into the floor in embarrassment, "but more about the curve. A prostate stimulator has a very specific job to do, and it doesn't need to be huge. If you do want something for the stretch, we've just got in a great new selection of dildoes. They have a suction base, so they work really well in the shower."

"Oh," murmured the twink. His eyes were big enough to swallow whole galaxies.

"So it all depends on what you're looking for," Leo said. The twink looked slightly panicked, and Leo took pity on him. It hadn't been that long ago that he'd felt the same. It was funny how things changed. "Don't worry. There's no right or wrong here. People just like different things. So why don't you browse for a bit and think about it? Come and see me or Orlando if you have any more questions. "

"Okay," the twink said faintly. His gaze darted over to where Orlando was stacking shelves. On a stepladder, his shapely arse jutting out.

Leo left him to it. It wouldn't be the first time Pleasure Party had lured customers in just because of Orlando's fantastic arse. He'd let Orlando break it to the guy that he was in a committed relationship with a drag queen over twice his age who could kill a man with a single stare or a well-aimed stiletto.

Leo's phone vibrated, and he fished it out of the back pocket of his leather pants, the ones that Tristan said made his arse look amazing. They were light-years away from the sensible khakis he'd worn at his old job, but then again, owning and managing a sex shop was light-years away from being an urban planner—in the best possible way. The past six months had been like a crazy dream, and Leo wouldn't give any of those moments back for anything.

After the confrontation with his parents, Leo hadn't hesitated to ignore their opinions and instead go ahead and do what he'd wanted—and what he'd wanted was to keep both the shop and the house, so he had. His parents had had remarkably little to say on the subject. They didn't have much to say to him at all these days.

When Wei and Orlando had wanted to cut back their hours since they were too busy putting their own spin on Bad Boyfriends—it was called Disaster Dating, now, and they were busier than ever—he'd stepped in to run the shop. It was only meant to be a temporary solution, and he hadn't expected to love it as much as he did. But he soon discovered he was happier here than he'd ever been as a town planner, because not only was it interesting and fun, but the shop was a much more important part of the community than he'd realised. It wasn't all about vibrators and anal beads. It was about putting money and time into events that supported LGBTQ+ kids, contributing to the local church's soup kitchen and drumming up support from other business holders for stuff like better signage and street lighting—okay, maybe he was still a town planner at heart—and about being a part of the neighbourhood he lived in. It was about building connections with people he cared about. So he'd quit his job at the council without a backward glance and made the move permanent.

The text was from Harry, asking if he needed anything while he was grocery shopping. He sent back that he was good, thanks.

The bells on the door jingled and Wei stepped inside. She was in jeans and a casual T-shirt today, and her hair was purple. There was a girl with her, so small and slight that she looked like she was trying to vanish. She had a duffle bag over her shoulder.

"And this is Leo!" Wei exclaimed. "Leo, this is Hayley, who Father O'Malley was talking about."

"Oh, of course," Leo said. "Hi."

"Hi," the girl whispered.

"Well, the flat's great," Leo said. "And you're welcome to stay for as long as you need. Just bang on the floor if these idiots are playing the music too loud when I'm not here."

That won him a faint smile.

Leo had talked a lot with Kev in the past few months about how that modest little flat above the shop had saved his life when he'd first landed in Sydney, lost and alone. While Leo could have rented it out, it felt wrong. This was a case where ‘what would Jimmy do?' was a no brainer, because Jimmy had already been doing it, hadn't he?

Leo liked to think Jimmy would approve of his decision. More than that, he liked knowing that he was keeping Jimmy's legacy alive. One day, he hoped to have enough local business owners on board to do something much bigger. Father O'Malley had ambitious plans for a twenty-bed shelter, and Leo wanted to do what he could to make it happen.

"If you need anything at all," he said to Hayley, "my number's on the fridge."

"Thanks," she whispered, and Wei showed her up the stairs to the flat.

Orlando climbed down from his ladder. "New tenant?"

"Yup."

"Can this one pay rent?" There was no sharpness in Orlando's tone.

"Probably not."

"Okay, so you need to stop telling them they can help with stocktake in exchange for board," Orlando said. "That last kid? We were doing stocktake for three months. Three months , Leo. There are only so many vibrators you can count. Just admit to them that you're a soft touch and put all of us out of our misery."

"But your misery makes me happy, Orlando."

Orlando rolled his eyes. " Puta . I'm telling Jenny that you're mean to me."

Leo shrugged. "She'd approve."

"She would," Orlando agreed with a dreamy smile.

A glance at his watch reminded Leo that he'd need to get moving soon. He wanted to get home in time to make dinner for Tris, who was coming off a brutal ten-day run of shifts—the result of a series of swaps so that he could have the entire weekend off. Leo was planning to cook them dinner then try out his powers of seduction. Tris had been too weary to do more than shower and bitch about how tired he was, which meant it had been a long, sexless ten days. Jack and Harry were going out for the evening so they had the place to themselves. It hadn't made any kind of sense to keep paying rent on his flat when Leo owned the terrace house, so once the renovations were complete, he and Tristan had moved back in—and so had Harry and Jack. By unspoken agreement, each couple got one evening alone on the weekend, and the others made themselves scarce. It was an arrangement that worked.

Friday night dinners with his family were a thing of the past, and Leo didn't miss them.

"Right, I'm going home," Leo said. "Keep an eye on that kid over there who looks like he's about to shoplift those condoms, will you?" He never failed to be amazed at how many people tried to steal shit, even when there was an entire bowl of freebies right there on the counter.

"See you on Monday," Orlando said. "Have a good weekend away."

"We will," Leo said, and hurried out of the shop.

The terrace house in Dickson Street, Newtown, had once looked like the derelict bad seed cousin to all its neighbours. Now it was pristine. The Davos and the other contractors had done an incredible job. If it had been the blackened stump in an otherwise flawless smile before, now it was the diamond tooth that outshone all the other houses in the street.

It was still a pleasant surprise every time Leo unlocked the front door and it swung open smoothly instead of sticking on the lumpy bit of floorboard, and he stepped into a hallway painted in muted sage green without a single crumbling skirting board. The best, most important thing about the terrace house, though, was that it contained Tristan, who Leo loved with his entire heart, and who loved Leo in return.

Leo poured himself a glass of wine, put on some music, and got busy assembling the fettuccine carbonara that was Tristan's favourite dish.

Not only were Harry and Jack already out, but the kitchen was sparkling clean, even though Leo knew he'd left dishes sitting in the sink on his way to work. That was all Jack. The man hated working in a less than clean kitchen, which begged the question of how he'd ever managed to put up with Harry and Tristan in the first place. But Harry had cleaned up his act, literally, since the house had been renovated. He'd bought a handheld vacuum and everything, just for his preschool craft projects and the inordinate amount of fuzz, shredded paper and glitter they seemed to leave behind.

And Tristan…

Well, Leo thought as he stooped down to collect a flimsy scarf off the floor, knotting it loosely around the back of a chair for safekeeping, Tristan is Tristan . He had other qualities.

He'd just finished draining the pasta and was stirring in the sauce when the front door opened and closed. Tristan came into the kitchen and leaned against his back, wrapping his arms around Leo's waist. "Hey, babe," he mumbled against the nape of Leo's neck.

"Hey." Leo put the spoon down and turned in Tristan's arms, pressing their foreheads together. "Busy day, love?"

Tristan groaned. "So busy. Why am I doing this again?"

"Because it's your life's dream?"

"Is it, though?" Tristan scrunched up his face. "Seems fake."

"It is," Leo said. "You told me yourself that you've always wanted to be a dent—maxillofacial surgeon like your dad."

"You forgot the oral," Tristan grumbled.

Leo grinned. "No, I didn't. I'm saving it for after dinner."

Tristan stared at him. "I can't believe I walked right into that. I'm blaming the fact I'm so fucking tired. "

"Too tired for me to take you to bed and make you come your brains out?" Leo asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I said tired, babe, not dead ."

Leo laughed—he seemed to be doing a lot more of that now that Tristan was in his life—and nudging Tris gently aside, plated their food.

They ate by candlelight in the dining room, and so much for Leo's idea of a perfect romantic dinner, because the combination of low lighting, wine, and carbs worked hard and fast against Tristan. He was nodding off by the time he was halfway through his carbonara.

"Oh, shit," he said, jolting upright when Leo reached to clear his plate away. "I'm sorry, babe."

"Hey, it's no big deal," Leo said, and bent to kiss his temple. "My sexy surgeon has been working a lot of back-to-back shifts."

"I love my job," Tristan said. "And I know I have to complete my surgical rotation to qualify, which is fine. But also, I can't wait to go into private practice with Dad. Like, you're just finished up, and you think ‘Okay, I can grab an hour's sleep in the on-call room', then some drunken idiot drives his motorcycle into the wall of the Harbour Tunnel, and suddenly you're holding his spleen while your boss tries to put him back together like the world's wettest, slipperiest jigsaw puzzle."

"Thank you for that," Leo said, his mouth twitching. "That was truly a beautiful image. Dessert?"

Tristan's laugh was rueful. "Sorry. You know what? I would really just love a shower, then for you and me to go to bed. Can we have dessert tomorrow instead?"

"Of course we can," Leo said. "You go upstairs and get in the shower, and I'll clean up here." He picked up Tristan's plate. "Did your motorcyclist make it? "

Tristan smiled. "Yeah. It was a good result. He's still an idiot, though." He let out a jaw-cracking yawn and stretched his arms over his head. "Shower and bed."

"And a blow job to help you sleep?" Leo suggested. He figured anyone who'd spent a portion of the day holding a dripping spleen probably needed something to take their mind off it.

"Aw, babe, you know all my favourite things!"

Leo slapped him on the arse to get him moving. "Get upstairs. I'll meet you there."

Tristan scrambled up the stairs with more energy than he'd shown so far.

A moment later, in the kitchen, Leo heard the shower start. These days it was a faint whisper rather than an ominous banging in the walls. The stairs didn't even creak when Leo climbed them.

He leaned in the bathroom doorway. "Need help scrubbing your back?"

"No," Tristan said, pulling the door open. He leaned out, dripping on the bathmat. "My dick won't suck itself, though."

"Oh, smooth," Leo said, laughing as he began to strip.

"You love me anyway."

"I really fucking do," Leo agreed. He bundled his clothes into the hamper, then stepped into the shower. "For some crazy reason, I really do."

Tristan moved back to give Leo space to step into the shower and stumbled. It was only a tiny misstep, and he caught himself easily, but it was enough for Leo.

"No," he said. "Come on, bed. We're doing this lying down on a non-slippery surface." He grabbed Tristan's towel and threw it at him.

"I love it when you bully me."

"I refuse to have to explain to the nurses in A and E at the hospital where you work how you cracked your skull on shower tiles," Leo said firmly. "I mean, they've met you, so they'd probably guess, but still."

"That's fair," Tristan said, wrapping the towel around his hips. "I'm a respectable surgeon-in-training these days. I have a reputation to uphold."

Leo, stark naked, took him by the hand and drew him out of the bathroom, down the hallway to their bedroom. Tristan left wet footprints the whole way. He looked back to find Tristan laughing at him.

"What?"

"Remember when you were shy?"

Leo laughed too. "Shut up. Smart arses don't get blow jobs."

"Now that's not true at all," Tristan said. "I blew you the other week when you kicked my arse at Trivial Pursuit."

"Smart and smart arse aren't the same thing," Leo said, grinning. "Now lie down and let me do my thing."

Tristan dropped the towel and lay back on their bed. "God, that feels good."

"I haven't done anything yet."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry. Just being on a fucking mattress feels good."

"I'm gonna make this quick," Leo said, "so you can crash out, okay? And tomorrow morning, we'll have dessert and talk about all the amazing ways you're going to reciprocate."

Tristan smiled. "That sounds perfect, babe."

Leo sat on the edge of the bed and took a second just to look at Tristan. "You're gorgeous," he said softly.

"My hair's a mess, and I have bags under my eyes," Tristan countered.

"Don't care. You're still gorgeous." Leo moved so he was kneeling between Tristan's legs and started stroking his semi-erect cock, which hardened rapidly under his touch.

"Mmm, you're so good at that, babe," Tristan said, closing his eyes.

"Well, I do run a sex shop for a living," Leo said before leaning down and taking Tristan's dick in his mouth. Tristan let out a low moan and his thighs tensed. Leo ran his palms along them in long strokes, the blond hair coarse beneath his fingers, and began to blow Tris properly, losing himself to the rhythm of hot, slick skin dragging softly across his lips—in and out, in and out, in and out. Tristan groaned and rolled his hips when Leo swirled his tongue around the tip of his cock, so Leo did it again. He massaged Tristan's balls gently with one hand in a way he knew would send him over the edge fast—he'd promised it'd be quick—and was rewarded with a salty burst of pre-cum. Leo grinned around Tristan's leaking cock. His boyfriend was a sucker for a good blow job, and Leo gave very good blow jobs. He'd practised. Tristan tangled a hand in his hair and gave a sharp tug. "Babe?—"

Leo relaxed his throat and swallowed Tristan's length down as far as he could, humming as he did so. Tristan's grip tightened for a second before he was holding Leo's head in place, making absolutely filthy sounds as he came. Leo swallowed most of the cum flooding his mouth, but he let a few stray drops pool in the corner, purely because he knew that Tristan liked seeing it, and he'd been working hard. He'd saved lives today, and he deserved every good thing Leo could give him.

"Fuck, babe," Tristan slurred. "That was fantastic."

Leo shuffled up the bed and propped himself up on one elbow, grinning. " You're fantastic."

"Mmm. Lucky I don't have work tomorrow. I think it'll take all weekend for the brain cells you sucked out of me to regenerate." Tristan pulled him in for a kiss, soft and lazy. "Thanks, babe. Love you."

Leo pressed a kiss to Tristan's temple. When he pulled back, he went to tell Tristan he loved him, too, but he discovered there was no point. Tristan's eyes were closed, his mouth was open, and his face was already slack with sleep.

Leo curled up against his chest and smiled to himself. It was fine. He could tell Tristan he loved him tomorrow.

And every day after that.