Authors: HT Pantu
O
H—MY—
fricking
—God. I had no idea how I had resisted Trystan for so long before. I had no idea how I had gone four whole weeks without a fuck. And I had absolutely no idea if I was going to be able to survive another five minutes, never mind however bloody long it was going to take Trystan to give in. The last time we’d had sex had been the Thursday before we went to my parents… oh God, I was so bloody ridiculous. Just thinking about it was actually making my blood thicken, a situation that was not at all helped by the fact that currently my lips were carefully, gently—and bloody infuriatingly—caressing the lips of the object of my desire as I struggled to hold his hands away from my body. I had to keep pushing Trystan’s hands off me and ignoring his increasingly aggravated commands when all I really wanted to do was comply.
It was now Friday and given the options of pushing him down and devouring him, or being pushed down so he could do whatever the hell he goddamn wanted with me, I honestly didn’t care. My body was literally singing. Every ounce of willpower I had was being taken up with not pushing him down and not letting my body react.
It wasn’t like we’d done nothing all week. There had been a lot of petting and groping and humping and blow jobs and palming and everything except dicks being pushed into asses. I’d moved up to two fingers on Wednesday and that had taken Trystan a bit longer to get used to, but he’d still got off, and on Thursday—last night—he had actually moaned in pleasure as I pressed that second finger into him, and I had almost cracked and carried on. But drawing on reserves of self-control that I had never known I had, I had resisted and the man moaning against me was still a virgin—at least where his ass was concerned.
I was a bit slow, and one of his hands skimmed my spine and I melted into the touch just a little before I managed to grab his hand and bring it back round to my front.
“What the fuck, Ide…,” Trystan tried to deepen the kiss and ravage my mouth with his. For just a moment I gave in to the sensation that turned increasingly frantic at an alarming rate. Trystan picked up on that chink in my armor; his hand snaked out of my grip to snarl through my hair and press my face into his. I managed to pull away—but shitting hell I was not built for self-control—to drop kisses along his jaw and use my suddenly free hand to skim over his torso and down over his jean-covered ass. I was rewarded by a reluctant groan—but it was a groan nonetheless—and he pressed himself into my hand. Such a simple thing, such a small movement, and just like that I was on the verge of pressing him down and fucking him right then and there. Instead I squeezed his arse and let my lips leave a trail of pale pink marks like jewels down the line of his neck and into the collar of his shirt.
The problem was that being submissive did not come naturally to Trystan. Not at all. And being patient did not come naturally to me. So all in all this was a bloody stupid plan, but in a weird twisted kind of way, I was enjoying it. The heady perpetual state of arousal was kind of addictive, and it was like all the colors had been turned up so the smallest things had my blood churning. I’d always been into sex, but this was a whole new level, and while I’m not saying I wanted it to go on forever, I was almost enjoying the torture.
Almost.
Trystan abandoned my hair and skimmed his hand down my neck, round over my collarbone, and dropped over my nipple. I gasped at the jolt of energy his touch caused even through the cotton of my T-shirt. I bit down lightly on the flesh I had against my lips, drawing it into my mouth, sucking and biting and caressing the blossoming red mark that was developing against his collarbone. His fingers pressed into my flesh, grasping through my clothes and rubbing against the taut bud of my nipple, and in response I shifted my lips and started again on another mark. And this was quickly getting out of control. My tenuous hold on my own arousal slipped and my cock throbbed, aching for anything.
With my hand still pressed into Trystan’s ass, I pulled him against me. I growled lightly against his flesh as I shifted my hand so I could dig my fingers down the waistband of his jeans. The bare skin of his ass was hot against my palm. There wasn’t much room for movement, but I slipped my hand down there anyway, moving my lips back up his neck and finding his lips, finally kissing him how I wanted to kiss him. It was desperate and messy and I could feel little bursts of tension and release through his kisses and his body. I pressed my hand between his cheeks and was rewarded with a small growl of satisfaction as my finger pressed up against the firm hole I had grown very familiar with over the last week.
He didn’t shift away, didn’t tense up; he just carried on kissing me and pressed his hips into mine. I gave one last roll of my hips against the bulge that was his erection. And then I stepped away from him.
He reeled slightly. I didn’t begrudge him it; I would have, too, if I hadn’t been psyching myself up for it for the whole thing. As it was, I was still breathing heavily as I grinned at him and removed my hand from his boxers.
“What the fuck, Ide?” He glared at me, and tried to step closer to me again. I took another step back, distracting myself from my own frustration by taking a small mote of amusement from his pissed-off look.
“Don’t ye have t’ go pick yer brother up from the train station?”
He glanced at his watch. “Not for another—shit, yes I do.” He jumped away from me and grabbed his car keys from where he’d discarded them when he’d got in from work. He shot me an evil look over his shoulder as he unhooked his jacket from the back of the door. “Are you trying to prove some kind of point, Ide? Or just to drive me crazy?”
I grinned.
“Right, so both, then?” He adjusted his jeans with a sour look as he crossed back to me to scoop his hand behind my head and pull me into a brief kiss. “I’ll take solace in the fact you’re probably hurting more than me.” He smiled against my lips and met my self-pitying grimace with a wry one of his own as he left to go pick up Josh from the train station.
I pulled a deep breath into the bottom of my lungs and headed up to the top of the house and my own room. I busied myself checking e-mails and grabbed a shower to cool my head, and the sound of the front door and Josh’s excitable voice wound up through the house as I went back upstairs to change. With a last question for my sanity, I pulled on a pair of jeans and dark blue fitted shirt as I headed back down to Trystan’s room.
I was greeted by a pair of arms wrapping around my shoulders. Josh kept the hug brief, which I was thankful for because I really wasn’t in the right mindset to deal with Josh in a clingy mood.
“Hey, Josh, how’s things?”
“Chris wants me to go meet him at that bar you took me to. Will you take me?”
“Ah, sure?” I phrased it as a question as I glanced up at Trystan because it was kind of late, but he just shrugged. “Ye eaten? Or is he taking ye out for something?” I asked as I tried to gauge how much of my evening was going to be taken up babysitting. I hadn’t been to the local gay bar since the time I’d first introduced Chris and Josh, and the thought of spending my evening there left me feeling kind of weary.
“Nah, just meeting up, but I ate before I left home. Mum sent me up with some cakes. Make sure Trystan doesn’t hog them all.”
I glanced up and Trystan was watching me with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.
“I can be bribed to share,” Trystan offered with a quirk of his eyebrow.
I grinned back at him; at least I could look forward to coming home. “I’ll claim mine when we get back, then. We won’t be late. Ye ready to go, Josh?”
Josh nodded and headed toward the door.
I paused with my hand hovering at Josh’s shoulder. Trystan was pulling off the shirt he’d been wearing for work, only it wasn’t the view that brought me to a standstill.
“Give me two seconds, I’ll come with you,” Trystan said with his back to me as he riffled through his cupboards.
“Ah… erm, I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.” I stumbled over my words.
“It’ll be fine, I promise not to be an overbearing big brother. Besides, I need a drink.” He turned back, pulling a fitted stone-gray tee over his head, and shot me a droll grin as he swapped work shoes for something more casual. He looked good, but then Trystan looked good in pretty much everything he wore. The top set off the nice tone in his arms and did nothing to hide the definition of his abs. If I saw a guy come into the bar wearing that, I would have looked twice, and that wasn’t even thinking about his face.
But I’d kept Trystan away from gay clubs for a reason, and it wasn’t because of the attention
he
would get.
I glanced down at Josh. He met my gaze and gave a little shrug. It wasn’t nonchalance that was framed in the eyes he shared with Trystan, there was pity and just a touch of disdain. It wasn’t really hard to guess why. I wondered what Chris had told Josh when he had asked about me, half of the truth? Some of the truth? It was enough of the truth that Josh looked at me differently now.
Trystan said he knew what I was like. But how did he know? From seeing me with Dan just once, from watching me come home smelling of sex for just a week. From Jorja, from my housemates; people who didn’t know the half of it.
I could change all I wanted to. Just like I could dress a certain way, talk a certain way. And whatever I did, however long I left it, everyone else around me would still be the same. Would still treat me exactly the same.
Only this time Trystan would see. The guy who had admitted he was possessive, just the same as he’d said he understood and would trust me anyway, when really he didn’t understand anything at all.
I really didn’t want Trystan to come.
But what could I say?
I
WATCHED
Trystan change and then the three of us walked into town, chatting about what Josh was up to at school and where our parents were planning on going on next summer’s camping trip. I joined in, but I was slightly distracted. Suddenly my sexed-up body didn’t seem like such a great thing. I wondered what the chances were of it being quiet on a Friday night at this time.
The chances were slim to none; it was heaving. The bouncer gave Josh an odd look as we got to the front of the small queue, but waved us all through without bothering to check IDs when he saw me behind him. The three of us walked into the press of people and music and I felt as if the air was being drawn from my lungs. I paused just behind Trystan, hovering in the shadow of his heat, and for the first time ever, I felt oddly self-conscious.
Josh spotted Chris and we were instantly abandoned as he wove through the men and women that filled the bar. He slowed at the last moment and tried to pull his face into a more relaxed grin as Chris leaned down to greet him with a short, sweet kiss. I lingered to watch a moment, to notice how no one paid them any mind at all, and I realized that the tension across my shoulders was jealousy.
“Let’s get a drink and find somewhere out o’ the way,” I said to Trystan and stepped ahead of him to lead the way through the crush of people. One by one I felt curious glances turning my way, their thoughts were like physical things sweeping over my skin as they considered this new person who walked by my side like they belonged there.
It was inevitable. It was the same as always. And for the first time in a long while, I truly hated it.
“You seem a little on edge, Ide?”
“Yeah, well.” I waved the barman over and ordered up two pints and two chasers. Trystan raised a wry eyebrow as I handed him the shot. “Yer not going t’ like this.” I spoke under my breath, but I knew Trystan had heard me because his curious grin soured slightly.
I watched Chris and Josh at the other end of the bar. Chris caught my eye and even he gave a curious glance at Trystan.
Then all hell broke loose in the form of Ashlie and Echo.
“Idrys! Oh my g-
oh
-d…. Idrys, what are you
doing
here?” Ashlie’s touch dusted my cheek, exerting just enough pressure to urge me down so that he could reach my lips; he kissed me playfully, his tongue flicking against my lips as he pulled away. “So you’re out and it’s Friday; does this mean you’re back on form? Oh I’ve
missed
you, Idrys; it’s just not the same without you.” He slipped his hand down my neck and over the small of my back as he leaned his upper body away from mine. He was touching me like he always had done, his fingers dancing and mischievous as he teased my skin. Then his eyes flicked over my shoulder and settled on Trystan. Ashlie’s eyes lit up and he pursed his lips in appreciation.
“Oh,
Ide
! You really do find the best guys,” he added in a hissed whisper that I imagine Trystan heard perfectly well.
I did not want to turn around and face Trystan right then. I reached back and unpeeled Ashlie’s hands from my spine. Behind him Echo was standing with a barely there smile just touching the edges of his lips. He gave me nothing more than a tiny inflection of his head as I caught his obsidian eyes in mine.
“Sorry, guys, I’m not out t’ play tonight,” I said as I brought Ashlie’s hands round and raised them up to my lips for a brief kiss before letting them go.
“Oh? But Dan’s working, isn’t he?” Ashlie sounded puzzled, and he didn’t look any less confused as he eyed Trystan up again.
I wondered what his face looked like. But I didn’t want to turn and see.
“Dan has taken your absence badly, Ide. You should talk to him.” Echo’s voice rumbled through the background chatter, and he was clearly talking to me, but he was watching Trystan. “Has this guy gotten a bit attached, my friend?” he added after a moment, still talking to me and still considering Trystan. “You shouldn’t get the wrong idea, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome. Idrys only belongs to you for the night; he’ll always be ours in the end.”
I sighed. “Look, guys, I’m here to keep an eye on this guy’s baby brother. I’m not in the mood for playing, and I probably won’t be for a while.”