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Tristan’s eyes danced with anticipation, and he kissed Leo again, right before he dropped to his knees in front of him. He unpopped the button on Leo’s jeans and eased the zipper down before extracting his now fully erect cock.
“Fuck, that’s a pretty dick,” Tristan whispered as he wrapped a hand around the length, his breath ghosting over the sensitive head. Leo wasn’t sure whether it was the warm air or the reverence in Tristan’s voice that made his cock throb more.
He didn’t get a chance to think about it, because Tristan stroked his length once, twice, then there was the sound of foil tearing and a condom was expertly rolled onto his dick in a way that shouldn’t have been erotic but definitely was. A moment later those hands were replaced by the heat of Tristan’s mouth. Fuck, if Tristan was good at kissing, when it came to blow jobs, he was nothing short of stellar.
His mouth was hot, wet and everything Leo didn’t even know his dick had been missing up until now. He was overwhelmed with pleasure as Tristan flicked his tongue up and down the length of Leo’s cock and fondled his balls with one hand, teasing and tugging lightly in a way that had Leo’s knees threatening to buckle under him.
Leo couldn’t help but let out a groan, and when he dared look down, Tristan was glancing up at him from under long lashes. He looked nothing short of sinful on his knees like that. Leo gave in to his fantasy and tangled his hands in Tristan’s golden locks, pulling gently. Tristan moaned around his mouthful of cock, and when the vibrations travelled through him Leo felt like he’d touched that live wire again, his cock throbbing and jerking.
Tristan hummed again, and Leo was helpless to stop his hips driving forward, forcing himself deeper into the welcoming warmth of Tristan’s mouth. Tristan swallowed around him, his head bobbing rhythmically, and it was barely a minute before Leo’s balls drew up tight. This was going to be over embarrassingly fast and Leo didn’t even care, his entire body straining to chase his peak. His hips stuttered as he made a strangled noise of warning before thrusting forward one last time and coming harder than he ever had before. His orgasm seemed to last forever, pleasure washing over him like one of the waves at Bondi, pulling him helplessly under again and again until he was left gasping and breathless.
Tristan worked him through it, holding Leo’s softening dick in his mouth and wrapping warm hands around the back of his thighs to steady him until Leo, shuddering at his touch, collapsed backwards onto the couch, throwing a hand over his eyes. “That was…Jesus,” he breathed out.
“Well, it’s not the first time I’ve made someone see God,” Tristan said with a soft laugh, peeling the used condom off. Leo squirmed at the touch, still sensitive, as Tristan tucked him gently into his jeans, leaving the zip open.
Leo peeked out from under his arm in time to see Tristan raise gracefully to his feet, which put Leo right at eye level with the bulge in Tristan’s jeans. He swallowed. “Do you want me to”—he gestured vaguely—“help with that?”
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”
And Leo did. He wanted to see what Tristan was hiding in those jeans, and he wanted to get his hands on it. Feeling bolder than he had in a long time, he leaned forward and tugged at Tristan’s hips, pulling him closer. “Come here.”
Tristan came easily, draping long legs on either side of Leo so he was straddling him, unzipping his jeans as he went. He tilted his head and leaned in for a kiss while Leo fumbled Tristan’s cock out of his jeans, taking a second to appreciate the satisfying thickness of it and imagining what it would feel like inside him. He skated his thumb across the damp head, spreading pre-cum down the length, and Tristan gave a gratifying whine. Leo started jerking him off in a nice, steady rhythm, working the shaft as Tristan rocked his hips, tangling his hand in Leo’s hair, his fingers flexing.
Leo responded by tightening his grip on Tristan’s dick and speeding up his movements to match until Tristan was squirming in his lap and panting against his mouth. It was cramped and awkward with one hand shoved between their bodies, and the metal teeth of Tristan’s zipper dragged across his knuckles more than once, but Leo didn’t care and Tristan didn’t seem to notice, fucking desperately into Leo’s grip. Far sooner than expected, Tristan pulled back from their messy kiss and threw his head backward, his spine arching as he groaned loudly and came across Leo’s knuckles in hot spurts. Sweat gleamed on the long line of his throat as he shook and shuddered through his orgasm. Leo hadn’t thought Tristan could be any more gorgeous, but like this, raw and unguarded, he was stunning—and, Leo realised with a start, he wanted to keep him.
Tristan slumped forward, resting his head against Leo’s shoulder and letting out shaky breaths. Normally, now would be when Leo started to stress about the sticky handful of cum that was trapped between them and whether it was getting on his shirt, about what Wei would say when they went back downstairs or if she’d guess what they’d been up to. Except that for once, he found he didn’t have a fuck to give. He’d given his last one to Tristan, apparently.
This had probably been a terrible idea, but as he breathed in the scent of sex, sweat and Tristan’s bodywash, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Instead, he wallowed in his post-orgasmic high and let himself savour the heat and weight of Tristan’s lax body where it was pressed against his, turning his head to steal a slow, lazy kiss from a gorgeous, smiling mouth.
Just this once, he’d save the worry for later.
Chapter Seven
Tristan hadn’t intended to blow his new landlord, but he couldn’t say he was upset about how the day had turned out. Leo had definitely needed to relax, and what better way was there for him to feel loose-limbed and noodly all over if it wasn’t getting his brain sucked out through his dick? Tristan was certainly a fan. He was also, luckily, a fan of hand jobs, and not at all disappointed that Leo had chosen to reciprocate that way instead of getting down on his knees. Hell, he was honestly surprised Leo hadn’t bolted once his post-orgasmic glow had faded, so the hand job had definitely been a win.
And Tristan, because his mother had raised him right, had kissed him, thanked him, then left him blinking owlishly in Jimmy’s flat. “Catch you later,” he’d said as he’d headed out the door. “I’ve got this last-minute work thing.”
The thing for work was gate crashing Allyson Fletcher’s family picnic at the tables near the pet pool at Sydney Park and complaining that she hadn’t invited him but that he’d followed her because he was tracking her phone. She’d called the previous night, and Tristan had agreed because he liked Allyson. Besides, it only took fifteen minutes and he fled before her brothers beat him up, so it was an easy fifty bucks to make. He only wished he’d gotten to eat something first.
He got Red Rooster on the way home to make up for it.
Tristan didn’t need the work, but he enjoyed it. He’d always had a dramatic flair, and being a Bad Boyfriend was fun. Also, it was a community service. There really were a lot of people out there who needed a vivid demonstration of just how terrible the wrong boyfriend could be for their son or daughter.
Tristan didn’t get that at all. His parents had always been nothing but supportive, no matter who he’d brought home. He’d told his mum about the Bad Boyfriend thing, and she’d laughed her head off. His dad had quirked a single eyebrow and slid him the business card of a criminal lawyer “just in case.” Personally Tristan thought he was overreacting, since he’d only been threatened with arrest twice but had never actually been dragged down to the police station.
It was drawing on into the late afternoon when he got home. Harry and Jack were being all cute and lovey-dovey in the kitchen, moving around each other as they threw together something for dinner, and smiling and blushing whenever they brushed up against one another.
“So,” Tristan announced, tossing his Red Rooster bag on the table, “guess who blew the new landlord?”
“Tristan!” Harry exclaimed.
“Of course you did.” Jack rolled his eyes.
“Of course I did,” Tristan agreed. “And I was excellent. Glorious. Transcendental.”
“And modest,” Jack said.
“Well, that goes without saying.” Tristan dug into his bag for some more chips. He shoved them in his mouth, then looked at Harry, who was wearing a slightly worried expression. That wasn’t unusual, but Tristan didn’t like that it was directed at him. “What?”
