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Tristan kept his movements slow and steady. He could have spent hours watching Leo’s face contort with pleasure and listening to his breathy little sounds, but his own cock was achingly hard, and he wanted to be inside Leo yesterday, so he reluctantly pulled his hand away and settled himself between Leo’s thighs, nudging at his knees till they were spread high and wide. “Like this, yeah?”
“Uh-huh.” Leo nodded, reaching down and grabbing his own dick. His soft panting, coupled with the sound of slick skin on skin as he touched himself, was loud in the quiet room, and it was as sexy as fuck. Tristan had always loved the noises that went with sex, but Leo was taking it to a new level.
Tristan slipped his lubed-up hand between Leo’s perfect arse cheeks, seeking out that delicate furl of muscle and rubbing the pad of his thumb over it, back and forth, back and forth, until it was soft and slick and yielding. Leo let out an absolutely filthy groan when Tristan sank one finger in deep and Tristan repeated the motion, in and out in a smooth glide until Leo was rocking into his touch.
“Fuck, yes. More.”
Well, Tristan wasn’t going to argue with that. He added a second finger and it went in easily—but then again, he’d always been dextrous. Leo was a hot, desperate mess in no time at all, because Tristan found his prostate and made sure he nailed it so hard that the neighbours probably knew about it. Leo slammed his head back onto the pillow, the tendons in his throat cording as he cried out, and Tristan had to tug himself sharply by the balls just to remind himself not to come.
By the time he rolled on a condom and slid home into Leo’s tight, hot body, Tristan was almost frantic with need.
Jesus. Was sex always like this? It was always good, but this? This felt different, the culmination of a week of thinking about this guy and an evening watching his face light up as he discovered the joy of Korean barbeque tacos. This wasn’t just some hot guy. This was a guy Tristan liked, and somehow that made everything about this feel just a little different. It reminded him of discovering the taste of a new spice on his favourite food. He kissed Leo, and Leo curled a hand in Tristan’s hair and tugged. The sharp sting travelled all the way down to his balls, and Tristan let out a sound he’d deny making later and thrust forward hard, making both of them moan against each other’s mouth in a sexy, off-key acapella of desperation.
Still sexier than a Yoda voice, though.
“Tris,” Leo said. “Tris. Tris.”
He sounded so close, and Tristan wasn’t too far behind him. He lifted Leo’s leg, angled his hips to go deeper and suddenly he was coming as quickly as a horny teenager who’d just discovered Pornhub for the first time. His only consolation, as he lay panting into Leo’s throat, was that Leo had come too, and now they were glued together in a gross, sweaty way, like that horny teenager and his Kleenex.
“Fuck,” Leo said in a wondering tone, and let out a breathless laugh. “Holy shit.”
Tristan rolled off him and stared up at the ceiling.
“That was great,” Leo said. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, then grimaced down at himself. “I’ve got jizz all over me.”
Tristan leaned over far enough to snag the box of tissues on the bedside table and held them out. “I’d offer to gently clean you with a warm cloth, but I don’t think I can move right now.”
Leo laughed softly and grabbed a handful of tissues, giving himself a cursory clean-up while Tristan got rid of the condom. “Shit. There are clothes everywhere. Which ones are mine?”
Tristan’s stomach fluttered at the thought of Leo leaving already. “What? You can just sleep over if you want.”
“Yeah,” Leo said. He smiled in the moonlight. “But, as your landlord, I’m going to check that light in the hallway.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard,” Tristan said. “It’s dark! Plus, we probably don’t even own a torch. And do we have a stepladder? I have no idea. Come back to bed and check it in the morning.”
“Okay,” Leo said, and let Tristan haul him back down. “I’ll check it in the morning.”
Tristan smiled. “I’m gonna be the big spoon.”
He folded his arms around a laughing Leo and closed his eyes, trying not to think too hard about why it felt like coming home.
Tristan woke up so early that it was still dark outside. That would have been bad enough on a weekday, but on a Sunday it was ridiculous. He blamed Leo, who was cuddling into his side like a baby koala. That should have activated every one of Tristan’s internal warning klaxons, but, somehow, it didn’t.
Because this was nice.
Somehow.
Weirdly.
So instead of escaping, Tristan lay there and enjoyed Leo’s closeness, gently carding his fingers through his hair, and tried not to think too much about exactly how different this morning after with Leo felt, compared to the morning after with every other guy before who’d shared his bed. Tristan had never wanted to cuddle any of them. But with Leo, it felt…nice.
The word kept bouncing around his skull like a pinball, and Tristan didn’t know why he was so hung up on it. Nice was a good thing. It was a positive word. But Tristan had never been very interested in nice before. He preferred things to be spectacular, mind-blowing and filthy—those were also all very positive words in Tristan’s vocabulary. He hadn’t expected nice to blindside him with its gentle warmth and quiet. Yet here he was, stroking Leo’s hair, marvelling at its softness and imagining doing it again tomorrow morning, and possibly the morning after, and the one after that.
In fact, Tristan couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. And the thought of Leo as a slutty butterfly? It wasn’t glorious at all, but instead made his stomach churn unpleasantly, which was bullshit. Unless…
Unless he was falling for Leo.
He took a deep breath and waited for the inevitable panic at the thought of an emotional attachment to hit, but it didn’t come. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Maybe, for Leo, Tristan’s one and done rule could be…done.
