Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

T ristan didn't mean to drink four margaritas over dinner. He'd drunk the first two because he'd been nervous about being on a date , then he'd drunk the second two because he'd been having a good time and they were, frankly, delicious. So by the time he paid the bill—waving away Leo's offer to split it—he was feeling a little bit shiny. Also, his cheeks were numb.

Once he'd gotten over his nerves and moved past that whole awkward part where he'd inadvertently invited Leo to sniff his hair, he'd had fun. Sure, some of it was the margaritas, but it was also that Leo was funny and clever and good company, and when he smiled and his eyes lit up, Tristan's insides did a thing where they went all warm and gooey at the sight. It was nothing at all like the usual lust Tristan felt when faced with an attractive man, and he didn't want to examine it too closely.

It didn't help that Leo had wrapped an arm around Tristan's waist in an effort to help him stay upright as he swayed in place. At least, that was what Tristan assumed. What if Leo was being more than a helpful crutch? What if this was one of those body language things he was frankly terrible with, because he liked to skip straight from prolonged eye-fucking right to actual fucking, with name exchange an optional extra. In his first ever night in a gay bar he'd said, "Hi, I'm eighteen today. Wanna blow me in the toilets?" He'd never looked back, and he had never regretted it for even a second in the decade since, except maybe just a tiny bit right now, when he was totally off balance and couldn't blame it all on the tequila.

The warm press of Leo's body against his side had to be deliberate, right? And the way his hand was affixed to Tristan's hip like he'd glued it there. Tristan turned his head and found it put him in the perfect position to sniff Leo's hair, which struck him as somehow poetic. He inhaled before he could think too hard about it.

They stumbled to a stop outside a kebab place, and Leo said, "Are you smelling my hair?"

"No," Tristan lied.

"Because I thought I was supposed to smell yours," Leo said. "Sand and surf, right?"

Tristan blinked at him.

They were standing face to face now, both of them illuminated by the flashing lights tacked up around the kebab shop's windows. Somehow both of Leo's hands were on Tristan's hips now, and somehow they were both swaying gently to the strains of Arabic pop that drifted out of the shop.

"Right," Tristan said. "Sand and surf."

Leo leaned in and kissed him, which was a weird way to smell his hair, but whatever. Tristan wasn't going to argue. Leo's lips tasted of salt, tequila and Korean barbeque tacos.

Leo lifted one of his hands to Tristan's hair, pulling it free from its bun, and Tristan didn't even care that it had taken him ages to get it looking just right. He didn't care about anything except this kiss—not his hair, not the traffic rushing past them on the street and not the claps and cheers of the guys behind the counter at the kebab shop, who clearly appreciated the show. Somehow this seemed more intimate, more real, than anything Tristan had ever done, which frankly was saying something.

Leo pulled back, wide eyed and pink-cheeked. "Was that all right?"

"More than," Tristan said, slightly surprised he got the words out without slurring them. Which had nothing to do with those four margaritas—he felt sober as a judge suddenly—and everything to do with the way that kiss had pole-axed him.

"How far away is the house from here?"

"About ten minutes."

"Okay," Leo said. "Let's go."

Tristan had no idea what the hell had happened to shy little Leo, but…oh, wait. Tristan had happened. He had taken dull little Leo Fisher and dragged him out of his boring little chrysalis so that he too could be a bright slutty butterfly. And now they were both about to reap the rewards.

He grinned, caught Leo by the hand and pulled him down the street.

The guys at the kebab shop yelled out their encouragement, but Tristan was pretty sure they didn't need it.

The lights in the downstairs hallway didn't turn on when Tristan hit the switch. He should probably complain to someone about that. Like the landlord. But frankly he had more important things he wanted to do with the landlord. Like fucking his brains out. He pressed Leo back against the wall and kissed him in the dark hallway, deep and filthy. Their tongues didn't so much battle for dominance as work in synergy, filling the spaces in each other's mouths. Leo let out a soft whine when Tristan tugged at Leo's shirt and slipped a hand under the hem, tracing his fingertips over warm skin. The sound went straight to Tristan's cock. "Upstairs?" he breathed in Leo's ear.

"Jack and Harry?" Leo's voice shook slightly.

"They're not invited."

Leo let out a hitching laugh that turned into a gasp when Tristan captured a nipple between his thumb and forefinger and tugged. Tristan grinned and did it again. Leo made a needy sound. "Upstairs," he agreed, slightly breathless. Tristan grabbed his hand and dragged him up the steps.

Tristan flicked on the light and was pleased to find that this one worked—except his room was a mess. Somehow in the process of pulling everything out of his closet in his effort to get dressed for his date, he'd completely forgotten to shove everything back in again in case he actually brought Leo home. It looked like H&M had exploded and there had been no survivors. He flicked the light off again.

Leo didn't seem to care about the state of the floor or the lack of lighting. He shoved Tristan through the hummocks of clothes on the floor towards the bed. "You're so fucking gorgeous."

Well, yeah.

Another shove had Tristan landing on his back on the bed, and Leo climbed on top of him, his knees settling on either side of Tristan's hips. They kissed some more, heat building between them. Tristan shivered with pleasure when he rocked his hips up and Leo ground against him.

"We are wearing too many clothes for this," he said, pressing a line of kisses along Leo's jaw .

Leo stared at him and bit his bottom lip. He ground down again to really make his point. "We are."

Leo sat back up, peeled his shirt over his head then threw it to the side. Tristan had to take a second, because under all those boring polo shirts he wore, Leo was hiding a gloriously muscled chest and an actual set of abs.

"Bullshit," Tristan blurted out. Leo stilled with one hand on the button of his jeans and cocked his head to one side. "You're not meant to look that good under there," Tristan said. "You're meant to be all—accountanty or something, but you're bloody gorgeous."

Leo's face split in a wide grin and he laughed. "Thanks. You do know I'm not an accountant, right?"

"Gorgeous," Tristan repeated, unwilling to be distracted by something as unimportant as Leo's day job. He sat up and tugged his own shirt off, running his fingers through his hair so it fell in soft waves around his shoulders because he knew Leo liked it.

Except, Leo wasn't looking at his hair.

He was looking at Tristan's pierced nipple, and his mouth was hanging open like he'd seen a particularly ripe strawberry and wanted to take a bite. "Can I—?" He extended a fingertip.

And fuck, Tristan really wanted to feel those fingers on his skin, but. "First things first," he said. "Pants. Off."

Leo blinked. "Oh. Right." He scrambled off the bed and turned his back as he started to peel out of his pants and underwear all at once.

Tristan kicked his shoes off then arched his hips up and shimmied out of his skinny jeans and underwear. He had getting naked in seconds down to an art form. He was down to his skin while Leo's pants were still tangled around his ankles, which was hilarious, actually. Who forgot to take their shoes off first? That was a rookie error. Clearly, he had a lot of things to teach Leo if he was truly going to live a glorious slutty butterfly life. A slutterfly life. He'd never been someone's sex Yoda before, but he was definitely here for it. Or, here for it he was, if he was going to embrace the Yoda thing. He probably wouldn't do the voice, though. That'd be weird.

Leo turned around, a frown creasing his forehead. "What are you grinning at?"

"Nothing. Fuck, you're hot."

Leo's cheeks stained pink. "So are you." Having shed his clothes, he clambered awkwardly onto the bed and straddled Tristan where he was propped half-sitting against the headboard. He cupped Tristan's face in his hands and kissed him, long and slow and sweet, completely at odds with the way his hard cock was pressing urgently against the crease of Tristan's hip. Tristan closed his eyes and lost himself in the softness of Leo's mouth and the heat of his hands as they roamed his shoulders and chest. Then Leo was pulling away, and Tristan snapped his eyes open at the sharp tug on his nipple piercing. Leo quirked his mouth in a smile as he tugged on the barbell again and Tristan let out a gasp. "Sensitive?"

"Fuck, yes." Tristan arched his back, rolling into the touch. Leo fixed his gaze on the sliver of steel in his chest as he kept up the teasing, light pinches and soft tugs that made Tristan's blood fizz and sent tingles down his spine. It didn't take long before the touches had Tristan desperate for more. In a well-practised move, he flipped them so Leo was lying under him on the bed.

Tristan sat back, his knees on either side of Leo's hips, and captured Leo's wrists in one broad hand and pinned them gently above his head, hoping it was okay. It must have been, because Leo did nothing to stop him, just gazed up at him wide eyed.

Tristan had to remember to breathe at the sight of Leo spread out underneath him, his body bathed in the moonlight that was flooding in through the open curtains. With his flushed cheeks, lust-dark pupils and his dark curls in disarray, he was fucking beautiful, and Tristan wanted to rail him until he begged, but he also wanted to bring him breakfast in bed the next morning and make plans to go to the farmer's market.

He pushed those confusing thoughts aside and focused on what he did best, leaning in for more tequila-flavoured kisses. "How are we doing this?"

Leo blinked up at him like he was suddenly speaking a different language.

"You want me to top?" Tristan clarified. "I'm vers, for the record."

"Yes." Leo sounded breathy. "I mean, me, too, for the record, but yes, I want you to top. If you're cool with that."

"I am very fucking cool with that." Tristan released Leo's wrists so he had another hand to work with, because there was a lot of skin in front of him and he wanted to run his hands over every inch of it. He smoothed his palms over Leo's pecs and slid them along his ribs before settling them on the points of Leo's hips, which earned him a shudder and a soft sigh. Tristan ran his hands farther down, tracing across the treasure trail on Leo's stomach and stroking the skin that led to his inner thighs, rubbing small circles against the flesh with his thumbs there when his hands came to rest.

Leo's cock throbbed visibly, straining upward like it was begging to be touched, and Tristan wrapped a loose hand around the shaft just to feel the weight of it against his palm. It was as pretty as he remembered. Leo let out a groan and rocked his hips. Tristan leaned over and scrabbled in his bedside drawer, pulling out the lube and condoms that lived there. He squirted a dollop of lube into his palm before taking hold of Leo's cock again, stroking more firmly this time. Leo arched his back like a longbow and a shuddery breath escaped him.

Tristan kept his movements slow and steady. He could have spent hours watching Leo's face contort with pleasure and listening to his breathy little sounds, but his own cock was achingly hard, and he wanted to be inside Leo yesterday, so he reluctantly pulled his hand away and settled himself between Leo's thighs, nudging at his knees till they were spread high and wide. "Like this, yeah?"

"Uh-huh." Leo nodded, reaching down and grabbing his own dick. His soft panting, coupled with the sound of slick skin on skin as he touched himself, was loud in the quiet room, and it was as sexy as fuck. Tristan had always loved the noises that went with sex, but Leo was taking it to a new level.

Tristan slipped his lubed-up hand between Leo's perfect arse cheeks, seeking out that delicate furl of muscle and rubbing the pad of his thumb over it, back and forth, back and forth, until it was soft and slick and yielding. Leo let out an absolutely filthy groan when Tristan sank one finger in deep and Tristan repeated the motion, in and out in a smooth glide until Leo was rocking into his touch.

"Fuck, yes. More."

Well, Tristan wasn't going to argue with that. He added a second finger and it went in easily—but then again, he'd always been dextrous. Leo was a hot, desperate mess in no time at all, because Tristan found his prostate and made sure he nailed it so hard that the neighbours probably knew about it. Leo slammed his head back onto the pillow, the tendons in his throat cording as he cried out, and Tristan had to tug himself sharply by the balls just to remind himself not to come.

By the time he rolled on a condom and slid home into Leo's tight, hot body, Tristan was almost frantic with need .

Jesus. Was sex always like this? It was always good, but this? This felt different, the culmination of a week of thinking about this guy and an evening watching his face light up as he discovered the joy of Korean barbeque tacos. This wasn't just some hot guy. This was a guy Tristan liked , and somehow that made everything about this feel just a little different. It reminded him of discovering the taste of a new spice on his favourite food. He kissed Leo, and Leo curled a hand in Tristan's hair and tugged. The sharp sting travelled all the way down to his balls, and Tristan let out a sound he'd deny making later and thrust forward hard, making both of them moan against each other's mouth in a sexy, off-key acapella of desperation.

Still sexier than a Yoda voice, though .

"Tris," Leo said. "Tris. Tris ."

He sounded so close, and Tristan wasn't too far behind him. He lifted Leo's leg, angled his hips to go deeper and suddenly he was coming as quickly as a horny teenager who'd just discovered Pornhub for the first time. His only consolation, as he lay panting into Leo's throat, was that Leo had come too, and now they were glued together in a gross, sweaty way, like that horny teenager and his Kleenex.

"Fuck," Leo said in a wondering tone, and let out a breathless laugh. "Holy shit."

Tristan rolled off him and stared up at the ceiling.

"That was great," Leo said. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, then grimaced down at himself. "I've got jizz all over me."

Tristan leaned over far enough to snag the box of tissues on the bedside table and held them out. "I'd offer to gently clean you with a warm cloth, but I don't think I can move right now."

Leo laughed softly and grabbed a handful of tissues, giving himself a cursory clean-up while Tristan got rid of the condom. "Shit. There are clothes everywhere. Which ones are mine?"

Tristan's stomach fluttered at the thought of Leo leaving already. "What? You can just sleep over if you want."

"Yeah," Leo said. He smiled in the moonlight. "But, as your landlord, I'm going to check that light in the hallway."

"That's the dumbest thing I ever heard," Tristan said. "It's dark! Plus, we probably don't even own a torch. And do we have a stepladder? I have no idea. Come back to bed and check it in the morning."

"Okay," Leo said, and let Tristan haul him back down. "I'll check it in the morning."

Tristan smiled. "I'm gonna be the big spoon."

He folded his arms around a laughing Leo and closed his eyes, trying not to think too hard about why it felt like coming home.

Tristan woke up so early that it was still dark outside. That would have been bad enough on a weekday, but on a Sunday it was ridiculous. He blamed Leo, who was cuddling into his side like a baby koala. That should have activated every one of Tristan's internal warning klaxons, but, somehow, it didn't.

Because this was nice.

Somehow.

Weirdly.

So instead of escaping, Tristan lay there and enjoyed Leo's closeness, gently carding his fingers through his hair, and tried not to think too much about exactly how different this morning after with Leo felt, compared to the morning after with every other guy before who'd shared his bed. Tristan had never wanted to cuddle any of them. But with Leo, it felt… nice .

The word kept bouncing around his skull like a pinball, and Tristan didn't know why he was so hung up on it. Nice was a good thing. It was a positive word. But Tristan had never been very interested in nice before. He preferred things to be spectacular, mind-blowing and filthy—those were also all very positive words in Tristan's vocabulary. He hadn't expected nice to blindside him with its gentle warmth and quiet. Yet here he was, stroking Leo's hair, marvelling at its softness and imagining doing it again tomorrow morning, and possibly the morning after, and the one after that.

In fact, Tristan couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else. And the thought of Leo as a slutty butterfly? It wasn't glorious at all, but instead made his stomach churn unpleasantly, which was bullshit. Unless…

Unless he was falling for Leo.

He took a deep breath and waited for the inevitable panic at the thought of an emotional attachment to hit, but it didn't come. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Maybe, for Leo, Tristan's one and done rule could be…done.

Maybe they could date for real.