Macarons at Midnight (18 page)

“Give me five minutes?” Tristan said, hating himself. He’d prefer to be here, working, than out socializing with a bunch of people he didn’t like. He’d prefer to be somewhere with Henry than here. But sometimes, sacrifices had to be made.

Like the others, Tristan took off his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He tucked his tie into his messenger bag and splashed some water on his face in the bathroom before deciding he looked like one of them, and didn’t that just make him feel like shit. The small crowd of people was obviously waiting for him outside the lunchroom, and he mumbled and apologized and felt himself turn red as they turned and headed out the door.

Tristan found himself at the back of the group, tagging along rather than leading the bunch. He doubted he would ever be a leading-the-bunch type of guy—probably not, when Jordan and his alpha-male friends were around.

The sports bar was predictable. Large TVs showing a number of different games all at the same time, all with the sound on, so it was almost impossible to follow a single game. Beer served in jugs, food you had to eat with your fingers. Tristan ordered a bottle of Heineken and leaned back against the bar to drink it, wondering when it would be safe to sneak off.

Easier said than done. Every time Tristan tried to go anywhere, whether it was to the bathroom or to get another drink, someone was at his elbow, wondering what he was doing or where he was going. It was like there was some conspiracy to keep him out tonight. By the time he finally did slip away, it was nine thirty, he’d drank four beers, and wanted nothing more than to go and see Henry.

It was probably the fourth beer that convinced Tristan that going to see Henry was, in fact, an excellent idea. Even though his rational brain told him Henry had other friends and was probably out seeing them on a Friday night, the fourth beer told him to head down to that corner of the Village anyway. It would be a romantic surprise.

The subway ride and walk to Waverly went most of the way to sobering Tristan up, so by the time he leaned against the railings outside Henry’s apartment, he had convinced himself his boyfriend would be out.

Henry answered on the second ring.

“Tris?”

“Yeah. Whatcha doing?”

Tristan liked to think he could hear the smile down the phone as Henry stretched. It sounded quiet, wherever he was.

“I am sprawled on my sofa, the cold remains of the best pepperoni pizza in the city on the table, my second beer almost finished, missing my boyfriend and watching
Criminal Minds
. How about you? How did the pitch go?”

“We won the account,” Tristan said with a smile, rocking from one foot to the other. “The guys I work with dragged me out to celebrate.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I’m now standing on the street, looking up at your flat, wondering if it’s too late to come and knock on the door.”

There was a rustling noise as Henry obviously rolled to his feet and moved through his apartment, then leaned against the windowsill. “Holy crap, you are.”

“What, did you think I was joking?”

“Yeah. Come on, I’ll buzz you up.”

Tristan was about to protest, but Henry had already rung off and he didn’t want to be an idiot. So he pushed the heavy front door open and jogged up to the door to the flat, where Henry was leaning against the open doorframe looking far too sexy for a man in Batman pajama bottoms and a black tank top. Tristan found himself being dragged into a slow, lazy kiss, and while his eyes were closed and his fingers occupied with the skin on Henry’s sides, the door thudded shut behind him.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be calling this late.”

“Tristan, it’s barely ten,” Henry said with a laugh. He pressed another kiss to the corner of Tristan’s mouth. “And besides, I’ve missed you this week.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Work has been insane, and I couldn’t get out of the project… mmph.”

His apologies were stifled with warm kisses, and he couldn’t help but smile against them. He had no clean clothes, nothing to wear in the morning, and that didn’t matter at all. Staying the night here was all he wanted in the whole world.

“You don’t mind me interrupting your evening, then?” Tristan asked as Henry kicked the door closed behind them.

“You’re not interrupting if I was secretly hoping you’d come over anyway.”

“Oh.”

There really was a half-finished pizza on the table, and the evidence that Henry had had a few beers too. The pristine, perfect apartment apparently housed a secret: its inhabitant was a
man
after all.

Henry let go of Tristan’s shirt and wandered through to the kitchen. From one cupboard, he retrieved two short tumblers, from another, a bottle of expensive-looking whiskey. Tristan knew it was expensive because he didn’t recognize the label, and the bottle was made of thick, square glass.

“My dad always celebrates big successes at work with whiskey,” Henry said. “I think we should continue the tradition.”

Tristan nodded. “Sounds good to me,” he said with a grin.

He watched as Henry expertly poured a generous measure into each glass, then pushed one toward Tristan and raised his own.

“To… success,” Henry said, a slow grin stretching his dark pink lips. “Forging new relationships. To getting on in life. A leg up.”

“A leg over,” Tristan added. Henry snorted.

“Later. To being with someone on a Friday night when there’s no one else you’d rather turn up on your doorstep, a little drunk and bedraggled but still adorable.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

He did.

The whiskey was warm and rich, and Tristan wished he knew a bit more about the stuff so he could properly appreciate it. On a good day, he could just about tell the difference between Jack Daniels and Glenfiddich, but that’s about as far as it went.

He set the glass back on the marble countertop and leaned in for a whiskey-flavored kiss. Henry’s tongue stole into his mouth, and Tristan hummed, appreciating the taste of fine liquor much more when it was licked from his lover’s mouth.

One of Henry’s hands wrapped around the back of Tristan’s neck, and the other reached down and grabbed a solid handful of ass cheek.

“Can I get you anything else?” Henry asked in a low voice, rubbing their noses together.

“Blow job?”

I have to stop saying the first thing that comes into my head
, Tristan berated himself internally. Henry kissed the soft arch of Tristan’s Adam’s apple.

“Hmm. I’m sure I can manage that.”

“Actually, I’d really like a shower.”

Henry drew back a little and rubbed the back of Tristan’s neck. “Long day?”

“The longest. I’m probably disgusting right now. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Help yourself. I’ve got some clothes you can change into.”

Tristan leaned in and laid a grateful kiss on Henry’s lips. “Thank you.”

“No worries. I’ll watch the end of my show, then we can put a movie on, if you like.”

P
ERFECT
, H
ENRY
thought to himself as he unpaused the TV and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. He could just about hear the sounds of Tristan clattering in the shower, and an errant thought about Tristan moving in floated through his head.
Not yet
. Maybe one day they’d be ready for that, but for now, it was just a nice fantasy.

Henry was only five minutes from the end of the show. He relaxed and watched the ending. Tristan was still in the shower when the end credits started to roll, so Henry cleaned up the remains of his dinner and stowed the pizza in the fridge for later, then went into his dresser to find some lounging-around clothes for Tristan.

What he was
not
prepared for was Tristan emerging from the bathroom completely naked, whistling softly to himself, rubbing his hair absently with a towel.

“What?” Tristan asked, a laugh in his voice when Henry stopped and stared. “You’ve seen me naked before, Henry.”

“I know. This is just… an unexpected treat.” Henry crossed the room and fit his hands around Tristan’s hips. The skin was still warm and slightly damp. “I like the way you’re put together.”

“I’m only six feet away from your bed. You hardly need to talk me into it.”

Henry licked his way into Tristan’s mouth. The towel fell to the floor with a damp
thud
.

There was something very erotic about Henry being clothed and Tristan naked like they were. It meant when their erections rose, Henry’s cock pressed against the thin fabric of his pants, and Tristan’s was free to thicken until it was standing almost vertical, sandwiched between his belly and Henry’s.

Since Henry had promised a blow job, he dropped to his knees and sucked the warm, sticky head of Tristan’s cock into his mouth. He could taste salt beneath the clean soap and he burrowed his tongue in the tiny hole, hoping to find more flavor there.

When Tristan’s knees buckled,
actually buckled
, Henry felt very pleased with himself, and pulled away enough to look up into Tristan’s eyes.

“Will you fuck me?” he asked, his voice low as his thumbs skimmed slowly over Tristan’s hip bones.

“Yeah.”

As Henry rolled to his feet he kicked his pants off, then let Tristan tug the shirt up, off over his head. They crashed to the bed in a tangle of limbs, mouths fused together. While Tristan was doing his best to drive Henry insane, petting the soft skin behind his balls, Henry reached over for his nightstand and fumbled blindly until he found first lube, then a condom.

“Please don’t tease me,” Henry begged as Tristan uncapped the lube and smeared some on his fingers. “I don’t want to wait.”

It was true, but he wasn’t normally this wanton. The days since they’d seen each other last had stacked up quickly, and Henry hadn’t let himself think about how much he missed seeing Tristan all the time.

There would be time for responsible conversations about sex later; right now, all Henry wanted was the very raw, very real and primal need in him to be sated.

“Please,” he begged again, then sobbed as Tristan pinned him to the bed with a hand in the middle of his chest and used two fingers to press back against his hole.

“Like this?” Tristan demanded.

“Yes. Yes.”

It was almost too much, the wickedly twisting fingers and sudden emergence of Tristan’s dominating side, and Henry wanted to whimper in relief when those fingers found his prostate and rubbed it hard. Henry thought he might have to beg again, and then Tristan pulled back and fumbled with the wrapper on the condom, eventually fishing out the latex and rolling it down his cock.

Instead of asking or offering anything, Tristan used some more of the lube on himself, covering the condom until it was slick and shiny. He cocked an eyebrow, waited for Henry’s nod, then caught Henry’s knees in the crook of his elbows and folded them together.

“Fuck,” Henry groaned as the blunt head of Tristan’s cock kissed his hole. “
Fuck
.
”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Oh my God.”

Tristan grinned, then caught his bottom lip between his teeth like he was concentrating hard. It was strangely hot, the way Tristan put so much effort into everything. Henry reached for his cock and gave it a few hard tugs as Tristan slowly pushed inside.

It had been a while since Henry had last been in this position, and a very long time since he was last with someone who had made him feel so good. Tristan was slow and sure, taking his time until Henry was begging—again—for more.

When he leaned in close enough to share kisses, Henry thought he might lose his shit and it would all be over way too soon. Instead, he wrapped his free hand around the back of Tristan’s neck, keeping their faces close together as Tristan picked up the pace.

From this close, Henry could see and feel and hear everything. They kissed, sloppy and needy as Tristan angled his measured thrusts and found Henry’s prostate each time.

“I just… need….” Henry grunted and Tristan seemed to understand. Just a little bit more, and
F
uck, yes. There. Oh God.

“Tristan.” Henry groaned the name, dragging out the sound as his spine arched and his body came undone and his cock sprayed hard all over his body.

Tristan came silently, eyes screwed tightly closed as his body trembled and shook and Henry kissed him through it.

“Fuck me,” Tristan said when he was done. Henry laughed breathlessly and helped untangle themselves from each other, stretching languidly as Tristan tossed the condom. They rolled back together, and Tristan pushed Henry’s hair out of his eyes.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Good. Really good.”

“Good,” Tristan echoed, and leaned in for another, slower kiss.

Honeyfly Amaretti Cookies are deliciously crisp and nutty,

perfect with a cup of strong black coffee.

• 3 cups blanched slivered almonds
  
• 1½ cups white sugar
  
• 3 egg whites
  
• 1 teaspoon almond extract
  

Preheat your oven to 300°F and line baking sheets with parchment paper.

First, you’ll want to grind the almonds in a food processor until fine. Add sugar and blend for another 15 seconds. Add egg whites and almond extract and continue to blend until the dough starts to form around the blade.

Use a teaspoon to round dough into balls and place on the baking sheet at least 1½ inches apart.

Bake in the oven for 20 to 30 minutes or until golden brown. Allow the cookies to cool completely on the sheets before removing.