Chapter Seven

Tristan thought his head was about to explode. Heath tasted as sweet as honey, felt so good pressed against him and he didn’t need the champagne because everything about this guy was intoxicating. Heath had made him forget why he was unhappy, why he was drinking. Tristan kissed his way along Heath’s chin, down the slender column of his neck, sucking gently on his Adam’s apple before dropping his mouth to his nipple.

Heath groaned and arched back, and Tristan wasn’t going to think about Grant and how he never liked his nipples to be touched, let alone sucked. Tristan wanted to touch all of Heath, taste all of him, sink his cock into him and fuck him senseless.

But not in the tub.

Well…not the first time.

And there would be more than one time. There had to be. No way was he letting him go. Though not in a stalkerish way. He rose to his feet and pulled Heath up with him, the dripping foam making them look like melting snowmen. Heath came up to his chin.

“No jokes about size,” Heath said. “I have it on the best authority—mine—that good things come in small packages and yikes—you’re freakishly tall.”

Tristan smiled. “You’re the perfect height for a swamp monster. But what happened to the scales and tail?”

“I’m out of the water. They vanish. It’s a miracle. Still got my voice though. You might regret that.”

Tristan stepped from the tub and Heath joined him.

“Where are all the towels?” Tristan asked.

“Washed, dried and back in the airing cupboard. Except the one I brought in for me.”

Tristan picked up the blue towel, which had thankfully escaped the tub’s tsunami, and wiped the foam from Heath’s body, starting with his face. Heath had his palm plastered to his hip and didn’t move his hand when Tristan tugged at his wrist.

“What are you hiding?” he asked.

“An error of judgement.”

“Show me?”

Heath whined.

“It’s going to be a difficult thing to have to keep your hand there constantly, especially because I want both your hands on me. Whatever it is, it’s only small. It can’t be that bad.”

Heath released a heavy sigh, then let his hand slip and when Tristan saw the tiny tattoo, he bit back his laugh.

“Die? That seems a bit melodramatic.”

“It was supposed to say Diego, but it hurt so I said no to adding go and made the tattooist stop.”

Tristan failed to hide his laugh this time.

“Yes, hilarious I know. Have you ever had a tattoo? No, because you’re sensible and realise they hurt. I think my nerve endings must have had a premonition because since Diego and I are no longer together, I’m glad I was too much of a chicken to get all of his name.”

“Which was?

“Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz.”

“I think Picasso already took that.”

Heath grinned. “Well spotted.”

“So Diego turned out to be not the man you thought he was.”

“I should have realised sooner but it was only a week or so ago that I came to my senses. It came as a bit of a shock to realise I’d made such a catastrophic error of judgement. Diego dumped me for my boss so I not only lost my home and boyfriend, but also my job. Benny thought I’d still work for him. As if I could. I stayed with my aunt, until she’d had enough of me which took a seriously embarrassingly short period of time. Stef rescued me for a few days and then offered Fabian’s place and here I am. My depressing recent history in a nutshell. And I didn’t even need to tell you any of that. Sorry.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“I felt… Well, I think you can guess. I mean, I know now that I had a lucky escape with that tattoo. I mean what if I’d coped with the pain, added go and ended up with his name on my hip for the rest of my life? I might have had to search for another boyfriend called Diego. Could have taken years.”

“You could have had it lasered off.”

“Pain, though? Me and pain, not good. I need anaesthetic to take a splinter out. At least die is a talking point. I just need to think of something more interesting to explain it. It means the in German but that’s not riveting. Only I’d hate people to think I was a homicidal maniac. I don’t want to have to explain about Diego every time. Sorry. I talk too much.”

Tristan saw through Heath’s smile. He knew what it was like to be hurt and humiliated, and felt a rush of sympathy it had happened to Heath.

He picked up the champagne and held out his other hand. “Yes or no?”

“I’ve forgotten the question now. It disappeared beneath The confessions of a swamp monster. ”

“Do you want to have fun with me?”

Heath groaned. “Don’t keep asking me yes/no questions! There’s something I should tell you now. I have this inbuilt, ingrained, deep-rooted inclination to say no before I say yes. I’m well-known for being Mr No. I have to edge carefully towards being Mr Yes. I go through should I, maybe, perhaps and a whole lot more before I even get close to giving a positive answer.” But he put his hand in Tristan’s.

Tristan held it tight. “I think we both need some fun to stop us sliding down.”

“Oh shit. You’re definitely looking at the wrong person then. I am not fun.”

“What? Yes, you are. You’ve made me laugh when I suspected I’d forgotten how. Anyone who doesn’t freak out when a stranger barges in while they’re playing at being a swamp monster with a Fleshlight is my idea of fun. As is anyone who knows Picasso’s full name.” Tristan tugged him into the bedroom, put the bottle on the floor and Heath dropped onto the bed. “But I do need you to keep telling me yes. That’s all I want to hear. You’re not allowed to say the other word. You have to think of an alternative. Yes, being the obvious one. ”

Heath lay on his back, laughing.

“What’s so funny.”

“Nothing.” He held out his arms and Tristan dived on top of him, though he made sure he didn’t land heavily.

Tristan held himself over him, their lips almost touching, their cocks most definitely touching. “Going to let me have my way with you?”

“As long as I can do the same.”

“I was sort of counting on it, along with you not lying motionless or turning into Shrek.”

This was crazy. They hardly knew each other but it felt as if they were both what the other needed. The perfect distraction.

Yet something about that made Tristan uneasy, a niggle in his stomach that was telling him he wanted to be more than a distraction to Heath, he wanted this to be the start of something, not just the full stop on what had gone before. A crazy notion. Though it wasn’t crazy to still want the life he’d hoped for. Just not with Grant.

He rolled so he lay at Heath’s side, then circled his nipples with the flat of his tongue, pulled at them with his teeth while Heath wriggled and groaned. When he fluttered his tongue around Heath’s navel, his skin jumped and twitched, and Heath released a long whine.

“That feels so good,” Heath whispered. “Oh God, how long can I keep you? You don’t need batteries, do you?”

“Batteries no, lube yes.”

“I found that. Top drawer. Yours?”

“Mine.” Tristan retrieved it, smiled as his lips skimmed the tiny tattoo on Heath’s hip, and kept smiling as he brushed his mouth over the tip of Heath’s cock. Uncut, with a pearl of precome at the slit that Tristan pulled into his mouth to savour. Delicious.

“Uh, uh, uh,” Heath panted.

Tristan wrapped one hand around the base of Heath’s dick and slid the other up over his chest. He could feel Heath’s heart pounding hard. Heath had his fingers threaded in Tristan’s hair, not pulling or pushing, just firmly caressing his scalp as Tristan took Heath’s cock in his mouth. His own cock revved up, urging him to hurry, wanting to be part of the fun, but for the first time in a long while, Tristan was going to go slow.

He felt like a magician beginning his show. He wanted to drive Heath crazy with excitement and anticipation before the big reveal. He tightened his hold at the base of Heath’s cock and brought his other hand down to cup under his balls. Heath’s breathing deepened and his fingers dropped from Tristan’s head.

“Worried I’ll accidentally yank your hair out,” Heath mumbled.

Tristan used both his hands then, just feeling the length of him, squeezing and stroking, though not in any rhythmic way, just working him until Heath’s cock was harder, tighter in its skin, the veins standing proud, precome coating Tristan’s fingers.

When he looked up, Heath had one arm flung over his eyes, the other clutching a stave of the bedhead, his knuckles white. Tristan kept one hand on the base of Heath’s cock while he opened the lube with his teeth, then squirted some onto Heath’s shaft.

“Already?” Heath blurted. “That was quick. Never mind.”

But beneath Heath’s arm, he could see the smile on his face. Then Tristan got going again, one hand still tight around the base of Heath’s shaft, as he used the other to slowly squeeze and release all the way up to the tip, while Heath gasped and moaned and shuddered beneath him. When Tristan reached the crest, he squeezed a drop of liquid free and watched as it slowly slid down the head, over the ridge, then trickled down. Only when it was about to reach his hand, did Tristan lean in and lick it up.

“What… What…” Heath was trying to wriggle and couldn’t. He was pinned by Tristan’s weight. “Oh my God. I didn’t say yes to extreme torture. Did I? Replay the conversation and check.”

“Want me to stop?”

“Of course I don’t fucking want you to stop. That would be torture. Just as long as you let me come at some point in the next sixty seconds.”

Tristan kept doing the same thing, time after time, edging him, milking the precome out of him while Heath moaned and wailed and gasped, mostly muttering the same words over and over. “Let me come, let me come, please let me come, Oh God, let me come…”

Tristan tightened his mouth around the tip, and after a series of small, quick, hard sucks, he released the pressure on Heath’s balls and a moment later, Heath spasmed and erupted into Tristan’s mouth with a loud cry, while Tristan kept swallowing. When Heath slumped boneless, Tristan dropped onto his side, breathing heavily, rubbing his thumb over his lips to wipe up the spills.

“What did you do to me?” Heath whispered. “Holy shit. What are you? Did I rub the Fleshlight and make a wish without realising?”

“ What am I? Not who?”

“Is a gay incubus a who? That is such a weird word.”

They lay on their backs, not moving, both panting.

“Don’t you think?” Heath asked. “Inky-bus.”

“As weird as suck-ye-bus?”

Heath chuckled. “Give me a minute to turn into a gay inky-bus. But don’t time me.”

Tristan laughed. “The whole point about those demons is that they have sex with humans while they’re asleep.”

“I’m fine with that.”

“Oh God.”

Tristan was still smiling when Heath wriggled down so they were side by side and kissed him.

“Hmm, I taste nice,” Heath said.

Tristan licked Heath’s lips. “You do.”

Their fingers entwined and Tristan felt…happy. His cock was still hard, still hoping, but he felt sort of satisfied. It was strange what he didn’t feel. Not one jot of regret, no guilt—though why should he? No remorse—again why the hell should he? He felt nothing but pleasure. Grant was done with, dusted and put away in a box that Tristan would never open again. There was to be no further thought about him. The guy had made his decision and that was that.

Except kissing Grant had never felt as good as this. Somehow, they’d got out of the habit of kissing and he’d forgotten how exciting it could be. Memories of the two of them being right together had been obliterated by this guy lying next to him. Tristan didn’t understand how that was possible, how someone he’d not long ago asked to marry him could be dismissed from his life so quickly, but there it was. Nothing like hearing no to make him see he’d been delusional. Grant had done him a favour.

Well, no, he hadn’t. He could have done him a better favour if he’d told him sooner how he felt, before Tristan had planned what turned out to be one of the most humiliating experiences of his life.

Heath began to kiss his way down Tristan’s body. The perfect way to put a halt to that train of thought.

“Got my breath back now.” Kiss. “Heart’s still jumping but…” Kiss. “Christ, I thought six packs were a fiction created by gym owners to persuade people to sign up and pay for torture.”

Tristan laughed. Then Heath put his mouth around him and Tristan sank into the bed and stopped laughing. He felt hyperaware, as if every cell was primed to respond to Heath’s touch. Electricity flowed in his veins. His cock grew harder and hotter and he found himself pushing deeper into Heath’s mouth.

“That feels so bloody good.” Tristan propped himself up on his elbows to watch, then groaned as Heath looked up at him at the same time.

Heath let him pop out of his mouth, then licked his lips. “Okay?”

“I have never been more okay in my life.”

“Close your eyes and relax.”

Tristan felt Heath move but hadn’t registered what he was up to until champagne hit his cock. His eyes flashed open as Heath laughed and slurped his way over his stomach and abs, and around his dick. When he wrapped his mouth around the tip and pressed his tongue into the slit, Tristan whimpered his name. “Heeeeath.”

A few fast, tight sucks left Tristan trembling, fisting the sheet.

“You’re playing with a bomb, be careful.”

“Why would I want to be careful?”

Heath took another mouthful of champagne, wrapped his lips around him and let the champagne dribble down to his balls.

“Oh my God.” Tristan groaned. “I’ll never look at champagne in the same way again.”

Heath fluttered his tongue over the head, then swallowed him down and Tristan stood no chance. He exploded with a cry and emptied himself into Heath’s mouth. Oh God, oh God, OH GOD!

As he floated back to earth, Heath crawled up to rest his head next to Tristan’s.

“If there’s a knock at the door,” Heath whispered, “you have to answer it because it will be the police.”

“What?”

“They’ll be checking you’re still alive after yelling like that. I mean, holy shit, you make a lot of noise when you come.”

Tristan laughed and rolled Heath over. “Let’s see if I can make you yell louder.”

Turned out he could.