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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.”
