Chapter 5

Chapter Five

T he great thing about back-to-back Bad Boyfriend gigs, Tristan reflected, was that it made it so easy to pull stunts like the one he was currently engaged in. He'd made a pig of himself at the all-you-can-eat seafood buffet on his first date of the day—with plenty of winks and crude references to the aphrodisiac power of oysters, which had horrified Amelia's parents just like she'd ordered—and now he wasn't hungry at all, which meant that sitting opposite James and his parents, it was easy to push his menu away disdainfully before declaring, "Actually, I can't eat any of this. I'm a strict vegan."

James's father, who had hated Tristan on sight and done nothing to hide it, scowled at Tristan from under a set of impressive John Howard eyebrows. "How can you be a vegan? You're wearing leather pants."

"I mean yes, but I didn't eat the meat that came wrapped in this leather, though, did I? Although"—he raised his eyebrows at James and gave a saucy wink—"James will probably be eating the meat that's wrapped in this leather later, if he's lucky."

He watched, satisfied, as both his faux-date and his parents blushed scarlet and stared fixedly at their menus. Tristan beamed. He was killing this.

Really, it was laughable how easy it was to upset people simply by mentioning sex, and how much he'd like to have it with their offspring.

James's brief for their date had been simple—and more common than Tristan had ever imagined it would be when he'd started this. "My parents don't like my boyfriend, just because he's a mechanic and not some white-collar professional. So I need you to be really, really offensive over lunch. Then I can tell them we broke up and when I get back together with Dylan, they'll be thrilled."

He'd put a lot of effort into looking unsuitable for Sunday lunch, and he was proud of the result. When Harry had been the Bad Boyfriend in Bad Boyfriend, Inc., he'd leaned more towards ill-fitting, atrocious fashions in eye-searing colours, but that wasn't Tristan's jam. As far as he was concerned, there was no reason he couldn't look inappropriate and hot—the two weren't mutually exclusive. After all, he never knew who he might meet while he was out. To that end, he was wearing the aforementioned leather pants, a gold mesh singlet that stopped at his navel, his hair in a bun that was the sexy sort of messy, and some killer eyeliner that he frankly felt was wasted on this particular audience.

Although…James was looking up at Tristan from under his lashes and biting his lip in a way that suggested he wasn't all that put off by the idea of Tristan's trouser meat. Maybe, after this was over, Tristan could take him home and they could celebrate a job well done, so to speak.

Tristan picked up his wine glass, took a mouthful and gargled loudly while he considered it. Yes, he decided. A nice little afternoon delight might be just the thing for a Sunday.

Except, he remembered sadly, James did have a boyfriend on the scene. And Tristan had promised to take Leo, Jimmy's pretty-but-repressed nephew, to the sex shop this afternoon. He brightened at the thought. Teasing Leo could be its own kind of fun.

James's mother, Athena, cleared her throat. "There's a nice pear and walnut salad on here you could have," she said, in what was obviously a valiant attempt to get the conversation back on track.

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "No, thanks. Walnuts look too much like little tiny ball sacs for my liking. If I'm putting a scrotum in my mouth, I'd prefer it to be the real thing." He blew James a kiss.

James's dad's face went red. "Have some bloody decency!" he snapped, whacking the menu against the table with a loud thump. He turned to James and pointed a finger. "What the hell is this, some sort of joke? You can't possibly be dating this—this dickhead. "

Tristan held his breath. Not always, but occasionally, there was a moment where a date could go horribly, spectacularly wrong, and this looked like it might be one of those times. He was already banned from four restaurants, surpassing both Ambrose and Harry's records, and he wasn't looking to make it five. He quite liked this place, scrotal salads notwithstanding.

But James swallowed and sat up straighter in his chair, a determined glint in his eye. "Just because you've set the bar so high that Tristan doesn't meet your standards, it doesn't mean he doesn't meet mine," he said tersely.

" Set the bar high? " his dad sputtered. "The bar was on the ground, and you started bloody digging with this one! He doesn't even have a job! He has a man bun! "

Which, rude. And technically accurate, but that wasn't the point. Tristan took another slurp of his wine .

"Yeah, well, Dylan had a job, and you didn't like him either, all because he drives a Commodore and doesn't spend his Friday nights at Young Liberals fundraisers!" James snapped.

His father's mouth closed with a click at that, and Tristan relaxed. He could tell from the hangdog expression on James's dad's face as he examined the back of his hands and the way his wife was elbowing him in the side that this was going to work out just fine.

He drained his wine glass, then, because he believed a thing worth doing was worth doing properly, he picked up the wine bottle and drained the last half-glass from that as well, before standing and stretching. "And on that note, I think I'd better go. Meeting you was a time, " he said to the wide-eyed parents. Then he waggled his fingers at them, blew James another kiss, and sauntered out of the restaurant, confident that his work here was done.

Tristan debated keeping his leather pants on for his outing with Leo, just to see if it would make his shy little number-cruncher blush, but in the end, the thought of sweating in them for an entire afternoon when he wasn't getting laid or paid at the end of it seemed like too much effort, so he switched them out for a pair of ancient soft-washed jeans and a fitted V-neck tee. He still looked fabulous of course, but now he was comfortable as well. He was just running lightly gelled fingers through his hair and trying to decide if he wanted it to look just-fucked or utterly fuckable—the difference was subtle, but definite—when there was a knock at the door. He tugged a few strands to the left, putting him firmly in fuckable territory, and padded down the stairs.

When he opened the door Leo was standing there, but it took Tristan's brain a second to catch up to the fact that it was Leo, because for the first time since Tristan had met him, he wasn't wearing a suit or a collared shirt or some sort of office-jockey outfit. Instead, he was wearing well-worn black jeans and a slightly ragged Nirvana shirt that gaped around his collarbones a bit, giving a glimpse of more muscle than Tristan was expecting. His hair, rather than being gelled to within an inch of his life, was a tumble of soft curls, and when combined with the way his T-shirt clung to surprisingly muscular biceps, Leo somehow managed to look more attractive dressed down than he did in a suit and tie. It was suit porn in reverse, and Tristan's dick gave an interested twitch. Tristan let a sexy smile spread across his face. "Well, well, look at you. Have you been hiding all those muscles under your suits this entire time?" Leo gave him a look that suggested he wasn't sure if Tristan was making fun of him or not, and Tristan was reminded that he possibly hadn't made the best impression so far. He'd have to remedy that if he ever wanted to see what else Leo was hiding under his proper exterior and sensible clothing. Maybe those biceps meant he could hold Tristan up against a wall while they fucked. Although, with the height difference…

Tristan was dragged out of his musings by Leo clearing his throat. "Can I come in?"

Tristan stepped back and opened the door farther, yanking it over the lumpy bit in the floor. Determined to get in Leo's good books, Tristan led him through to the kitchen and nodded at the mismatched chairs surrounding their tiny kitchen table, indicating Leo should take a seat. "I just need to grab some shoes. Want a beer while you wait?"

Leo hesitated then nodded and sat. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

Tristan made sure his arse was on display as he bent to fossick in the fridge—he hadn't missed the way Leo's eyes had tracked him the other day—and pulled out two bottles of some fruit-flavoured beer that he didn't recognise the name of, which meant it was either really off-brand or super fancy. Harry had been in charge of the bottlo run this week and his taste in beer was non-existent, so Tristan's money was on off-brand.

He handed the bottle over to Leo, who eyed it dubiously before shrugging, twisting the top off and taking a swig. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and Tristan didn't bother to hide the way he watched it. Subtlety was overrated, in his opinion. Like his mum used to say, " Shy kids get no lollies. " Of course, Tristan had never been shy a day in his life, so the advice was redundant in his case.

He wondered suddenly if anyone had ever told Leo that, or if Leo had always been one of those kids who'd never dared raise his hand and so ended up at the back of the line when it came to treats. Then he wondered if the behaviour was so ingrained that now Leo was afraid to ask for anything that he wanted in life. It seemed entirely possible, having met his family, and Tristan was struck with unaccustomed sadness at the thought.

Maybe poor Leo had never experienced the delight of a Wizz Fizz, too afraid to ask for what he wanted, and instead had always been the poor sucker who ended up with the dodgy hard caramels from the bottom of Santa's sack. Okay, maybe that metaphor was a bit of a stretch, but the point was, maybe Leo needed someone to encourage him to dip his hand into life's lolly jar, so to speak—and maybe Tristan was just the man for the job. He was, he decided selflessly. He was fully prepared to give Leo the benefit of his vast experience and show him all sorts of fun and interesting things in the bedroom. And maybe he'd get to see if those muscles could hold Tristan up against the wall while Leo railed him.

Okay, so maybe not completely selfless.

He took a sip of his beer but pulled a face at the taste, a combination of yeast and cloying fake passionfruit flavour. He leaned forward and plucked Leo's bottle from his fingertips, making an executive decision. "That," he declared with a shudder, "is fucking disgusting." He carried the bottles over to the sink and tipped them out.

Leo's face lit up with something like relief and he laughed. "Thank fuck. I wasn't looking forward to drinking the rest of it."

He would have, though, Tristan realised. Leo would have drunk the whole thing and never said a word, just to keep Tristan happy. More proof that somewhere in his past, Leo had been taught to stay quiet, swallow what life threw at him, and not rock the boat.

It just made Tristan more determined to show him that it was okay to ride the waves now and then.

Wei was at the front counter at Pleasure Party when Tristan pushed open the door and ushered Leo inside to take his first step into an amazing new world. She looked tired and hungover, as though she could barely summon the energy to blow him a rather lacklustre kiss. Then she leaned forward in her chair, rested her head on her folded arms on the counter, and closed her eyes. Her elbow threatened a container of dick-shaped lollipops that tasted like shit but were apparently incredibly popular with hens' nights.

"Ta da!" Tristan announced, spinning around and waving his arms at all the displays, like Leo was a contestant on a game show and Tristan was the showcase model. He beamed. "What do you think?"

Leo looked like he was thinking about bolting.

"No, it's great," Tristan declared for him, and grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the nearest display. "This is where the new stock comes first. Oh, look! This dildo is shaped like a banana. It has a little face and everything!"

Leo blinked at him slowly. "Bananas don't have faces."

"This one does," Tristan says. "It's clearly an anthropomorphic banana. Look at its little mouth!" He shoved the package at Leo, forcing him to take it, then put a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled, "Help! It's dark in here and I can't breathe!"

Leo put the package back on the shelf.

"Okay," Tristan said. "You don't like the funny stuff. Let's look at the quality stuff instead."

"I thought we were going to look at the flat?" Leo said, casting hopeful upward glances, but Tristan wasn't deterred. There was a fun-loving little gay hiding under Leo's anxious shell, he just knew it, and Tristan was determined to help him emerge, like a butterfly from its cocoon. Or shell. Whatever. Science had never been his strong point.

"We should look around down here first," he said firmly. "After all, you should know something about your new business. You need to know your butt plugs from your cock rings, at least."

Leo looked slightly overwhelmed at that, so Tristan led him over to a display stand and said, "I mean, the difference is pretty obvious. Here." He plucked a small foil package off the shelf at random and waggled it in front of Leo. "Cock ring. That one's a single use, but you can get fancy ones."

Leo's eyes widened slightly. "Why would you put a ring on your cock? Is it some sort of BDSM thing? "

Tristan laughed and slapped his arm with the foil package. "No, silly. It's to make you stay harder for longer. Makes a good time better," he said with a wink.

Leo went a delightful shade of pink as Tristan reached over to a shelf and picked up a pack of butt plugs and pressed them into Leo's hands. "Butt plugs. These are a nice size, perfect for a beginner." Leo blushed harder and tried to hand them back, but Tristan was on a mission, so he piled a few more boxes on top. "Vibrator, vibrating butt plug—they're different, trust me—oooh, beads!"

"Those would never fit around your neck," Leo said, his brow scrunching. Tristan just stared at him then looked pointedly back at the box, where the word ‘ Anal ' was written in big black letters. It took a second for Leo to follow his gaze, but when he did, Leo's eyes grew wide, and his mouth dropped open. Instead of backing away, though, he threw his head back and started laughing.

Tristan was unsure why anal beads were funny—except that was a lie, because they were always at least a little bit funny, he just didn't know why in this case—but he grinned along with Leo, glad to see him loosening up at last. Leo put the armful of stuff on the nearby shelf before he dropped it all. When he'd stopped laughing, he said, "It's just, after they cleaned out Jimmy's place when he died, I overheard my mother muttering about having to throw all sorts of stuff out and how disgusting it was that Jimmy owned those godless beads, and for some reason"—he stopped and giggled again, and Tristan took a moment to appreciate how good Leo looked with a smile on his face—"for some reason, I thought she was talking about a rosary. I remember thinking that I didn't even know Jimmy was Catholic." He shook his head. "She wasn't talking about rosary beads, was she?"

Tristan snorted. "The closest Jimmy came to the church was wearing a priest's collar and a G-string at Mardi Gras, darling."

Leo's laughter trailed off. "That," he declared, "is a mental image I never needed."

"Obviously, it was back in the day, but let me tell you, Jimmy Erskine in a G-banger was smoking hot. I've seen photos, and I'd do him."

"Yeah, well," Leo said. "Not to be rude, but you'd do anyone."

"I would," Tristan agreed happily. "It's all part of being young, hot and single, Leo, and that had better not be any judgement creeping into your tone there, because guess what? You own a sex shop now. You're a part of the sex industry, just like…" He blinked. "Well, me too, I suppose. Peripherally."

"Peripherally?" Leo's brow creased.

"Peripherally," Tristan said, more emphatically this time. He'd never thought of being a Bad Boyfriend as actual escort work, but of course it was. Escorts just put out. Or were escorts the ones who didn't put out? He could never remember. "Anyway, get off your high horse and join the rest of us in the gutter. It's fun down here."

"I don't…" Leo looked almost distraught. "I don't think I'm on a high horse, am I?"

"No, you just need to loosen up a little." Tristan reached out and put his hands on Leo's shoulders, and gave him an impromptu massage that had the opposite effect of loosening him up—Leo tensed all over. "Are you always this tight in your shoulders?"

"I don't know." Leo bit his bottom lip. "I'm not normally fondled by strange men in sex shops."

Tristan laughed. "Oh, if I was fondling you, you'd know it, babe!"

Leo flushed and stepped away. He picked up a box off the shelf and studied it. It was an anal hook. The second he realised what he was holding, he shoved it back on the shelf. "Oh my God."

Tristan laughed and dragged him into the next aisle where things weren't quite as extreme. This aisle was full of fluffy handcuffs, bunny ears and glow-in-the-dark condoms, which were probably more Leo's speed.

The tension left Leo's shoulders almost immediately and he picked up a packet of edible underwear, examining the package curiously. "Do people really use this?"

Tristan grinned. "Absolutely. Best save them for cooler weather, though. I once had a disastrous hook-up with a guy that involved a forty-degree day, melting fruit-flavoured underpants, and excessive body hair. It turned into a bit of an unplanned waxing session. It was brutal." He shuddered at the memory of Mitchell and his sticky, swollen ball sack—which, of course, made him wonder about Leo's balls. Did he wax, or was he a ‘let it grow' kind of guy? Tristan would put money on the latter, but he certainly wouldn't say no to a chance to check it out for himself.

Leo laughed and put the packet back on the shelf, still smiling. Tristan was pleased to see that Leo no longer looked like he wanted to crawl under Wei's counter—which was lucky, because Tristan knew for a fact that they stored the biggest of the strap-ons there.

They looked around for a while longer until some customers drifted in. Tristan, watching the way Leo tried to slink behind the flavoured lube display, took pity on him and hooked an arm through his elbow. "So," he said, leading Leo over to the door near the rear of the store, "wanna go upstairs?"