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“Peripherally?” Leo’s brow creased.
“Peripherally,” Tristan said, more emphatically this time. He’d never thought of being a Bad Boyfriend as actual escort work, but of course it was. Escorts just put out. Or were escorts the ones who didn’t put out? He could never remember. “Anyway, get off your high horse and join the rest of us in the gutter. It’s fun down here.”
“I don’t…” Leo looked almost distraught. “I don’t think I’m on a high horse, am I?”
“No, you just need to loosen up a little.” Tristan reached out and put his hands on Leo’s shoulders, and gave him an impromptu massage that had the opposite effect of loosening him up—Leo tensed all over. “Are you always this tight in your shoulders?”
“I don’t know.” Leo bit his bottom lip. “I’m not normally fondled by strange men in sex shops.”
Tristan laughed. “Oh, if I was fondling you, you’d know it, babe!”
Leo flushed and stepped away. He picked up a box off the shelf and studied it. It was an anal hook. The second he realised what he was holding, he shoved it back on the shelf. “Oh my God.”
Tristan laughed and dragged him into the next aisle where things weren’t quite as extreme. This aisle was full of fluffy handcuffs, bunny ears and glow-in-the-dark condoms, which were probably more Leo’s speed.
The tension left Leo’s shoulders almost immediately and he picked up a packet of edible underwear, examining the package curiously. “Do people really use this?”
Tristan grinned. “Absolutely. Best save them for cooler weather, though. I once had a disastrous hook-up with a guy that involved a forty-degree day, melting fruit-flavoured underpants, and excessive body hair. It turned into a bit of an unplanned waxing session. It was brutal.” He shuddered at the memory of Mitchell and his sticky, swollen ball sack—which, of course, made him wonder about Leo’s balls. Did he wax, or was he a ‘let it grow’ kind of guy? Tristan would put money on the latter, but he certainly wouldn’t say no to a chance to check it out for himself.
Leo laughed and put the packet back on the shelf, still smiling. Tristan was pleased to see that Leo no longer looked like he wanted to crawl under Wei’s counter—which was lucky, because Tristan knew for a fact that they stored the biggest of the strap-ons there.
They looked around for a while longer until some customers drifted in. Tristan, watching the way Leo tried to slink behind the flavoured lube display, took pity on him and hooked an arm through his elbow. “So,” he said, leading Leo over to the door near the rear of the store, “wanna go upstairs?”
Chapter Six
Leo would have loved nothing better than to escape upstairs with Tristan, who he had to admit had actually been helpful today, except Tristan paused and signalled to Wei, who nodded and made a just one second gesture. While they waited, Leo ducked his head and examined the floor, doing his best not to stare at the two women who were currently giggling as they had a mock sword fight with the display dildoes. They were his mother’s age, but he couldn’t ever imagine her having fun like that in a place like this.
Of course, he’d never imagined himself here, either, but here he was on a Sunday afternoon, learning about different lube flavours like it was no big deal. Maybe it really wasn’t, and Tristan had been right about him getting off his high horse. Sure, some of the stuff was miles out of his league, other things he’d have to google later, and some of it he never ever wanted to know about, but what was it Tristan had said? “It’s fun down here.” And Leo was fast coming to realise he was right.
Wei tottered over to them in a pair of thigh-high leather boots that boasted impressive six-inch fuck-me heels, holding out a bundle of keys with what looked like a tiny penis swinging off the keychain. “Keys for the flat. Plus, I heard you talking about Jimmy’s Mardi Gras days, and I thought you’d like to see this.” She thrust a battered book towards Leo. “He kept it in the back office, for when he was feeling nostalgic.”
“Thanks?” Leo took the book and tucked it under one arm.
Tristan scooped up the keys. “Thanks, sweetness.” He blew Wei a kiss then opened the door that led through to a narrow staircase. “Flat’s up here.”
Leo followed him up the stairs, doing his best not to stare at Tristan’s arse and failing utterly. In his defence, it was an absolute peach of an arse, and he’d just spent the last half an hour in a sex shop being handed dildos and vibrators and talking about lube. Stories about the hair removal capabilities of melted edible underwear notwithstanding, of course his brain was fixated on all things sexy right now. And Tristan was very, very sexy.
When they were halfway up the stairs, Tristan stopped suddenly and Leo ran into the back of him, managing to face-plant right into Tristan’s arse. He reached up with one hand instinctively, cupping Tristan’s arse cheek as he tried to keep his balance, and the brush of soft worn denim under his fingertips, combined with a handful of firm flesh, fuelled a burst of arousal that sucked the breath right out of him.
Tristan looked back over his shoulder and grinned before continuing on, and Leo was fairly certain he’d done it on purpose. Leo was left standing with one hand extended and his face hot with either embarrassment or want—he couldn’t decide which. Anyway, it didn’t matter. He was here to look at the flat in case Harry and Jack needed somewhere to go, not to have fantasies about Tristan—even if he was hotter and more tempting than anyone Leo had ever seen.
Leo spent the rest of the climb lingering a few steps back, keeping his eyes on the staircase, reminding himself that he was here for business, and willing his dick to calm the fuck down. It worked, sort of. By the time they reached the top, he was fairly certain he was back in control. Tristan opened the door to the flat and stepped inside, Leo following. “Ta-dah!” he said brightly as he spun, arms extended.
Leo took in the sight in front of him, pleasantly surprised. Based on the state of the terrace house, he’d half-expected a seventies-era disaster with floral wallpaper and lime green shag carpet, but this was nothing like that. It was a small space, sure, but it was neat and clean and modern, with polished floorboards and inoffensive cream paint that suggested it belonged to a Tupperware consultant named Linda rather than a sex shop owner.
A quick survey of the flat revealed a central living space, compact kitchen area, a bathroom, one bedroom and a tiny office that an enterprising real estate agent would definitely try to market as a second bedroom but that would really only be suitable for hobbits. The furniture was dated but in good condition. “I wonder why he didn’t rent it out or sell it? He could have made a killing.”
“Jimmy kept it empty for his rescues,” Tristan said. “You know, baby gays that found themselves kicked out of home, country boys in the big city who needed some help to get on their feet, that sort of thing. He always seemed to have one or two in tow. Besides, Jimmy wasn’t that hung up on money.”
And that—that did sound like Uncle Jimmy. Leo thought again of the variety of mourners at the funeral. He’d wondered how his uncle had known them all. He guessed this at least partly answered that question.
“And what about you? Were you a poor lost boy who was kicked out of home?” he asked. “Is that how you ended up renting the doomsday house?”
Tristan let out a tinkling laugh. “What? No, not me. The house is just cheap and convenient, that’s all. And it’s not that bad. That electrician even said it wasn’t the worst he’d seen, and he did manage to fix the power surges.”
Leo had been more relieved than he’d liked to admit when the electrician he’d called the day before had confirmed that the wiring itself was sound and that the power fluctuations, while serious, were easy to fix. It was a glimmer of hope in what Leo had assumed would be a dark landscape of renovation nightmares. He only hoped the same went for the pipes, because Leo wasn’t any sort of plumbing professional but even he knew that no house should make noises associated with an exorcism every time a tap was turned on.
He’d worry about it next week, which was when he had a bunch of tradies coming to give him a verdict on the state of the house. For now, he’d take the win with the sparky.
