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Tristan rolled so they were facing and pressed their foreheads together. “Awesome,” he said. “That’s so awesome.” Then he was kissing Leo again, and it was somehow different from every other time—softer, warmer, more tender—it took Leo a second to place it, but he couldn’t help grinning against Tristan’s mouth when he figured out what the difference was.
This was a boyfriend kiss.
Leo sighed happily and opened his mouth as Tristan probed deeper with his tongue. He was just weighing up the inherent romanticism of showering together against the advantages of going back to his own place—namely decent water pressure and zero black mould—when they were interrupted by a burst of Britney Spears’ Toxic at full volume. Tristan pulled back out of reach with a groan and fumbled for his mobile. “Work call,” he said, brow creased. “Do you mind?” The phone continued to blare as Tristan waited for his answer.
“Uh, sure. Yeah, go ahead. I’m going to, um…” Leo swallowed around a sudden, solid lump in his throat. “Check out that light.”
“Okay, great! If we do have a ladder, it’s in the cupboard under the stairs. Bulbs as well, I think.”
And with that he hit the green button and answered the call. “This is Tristan. Yeah? When for? Tonight? I mean it’s short notice, but I can squeeze you in. What exactly are you looking for? I have a sliding scale, depending on exactly what you need, so if you give me the details, I can give you a price.”
Leo shoved the blankets back and sat on the side of the bed, fumbling for his jeans and yanking them on along with last night’s underwear and pulling his shirt on in a series of jerky motions. He ignored his shoes and scurried out the door, his stomach a tight ball as behind him, he heard Tristan laugh and say, “Oh yeah, I can definitely do that for you. Now, about payment?—”
He shut the door before he could hear any more and made his way to the bathroom, where he pissed then splashed cold water on his face and took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to calm his racing heartbeat.
He could do this. He could cope. And if he couldn’t, he’d have to learn. For now, he’d focus on fixing the hallway light.
Leo was shaky as he checked the under-stairs utility cupboard and, as expected, didn’t find a step ladder. He found a lightbulb though, and considered that a win. He grabbed a chair from the kitchen and set it underneath the light in the hallway. He could just reach it, on tiptoes.
God.
It was Tristan’s job. Leo was trying really hard to be rational about it, but he didn’t like it. Not because a relationship with Tristan would mean that Leo wasn’t the only one touching him and kissing him and making love with him, but because it was dangerous. What did Tristan do to protect himself from violent guys? Did he check in with someone? Did he carry anything for self-defence? Had he ever been assaulted? It was just so risky, and Leo’s stomach clenched at the thought of Tristan getting hurt.
And, okay, yeah, he couldn’t deny he didn’t love the idea of sharing Tristan with anyone else, but that was his own baggage to unpack, or prejudices to dismantle, or something. Because what he knew on an intellectual level and what he felt on an instinctive level didn’t match up. And how could anyone sell their body like that, without selling even a little piece of their soul each time?
Leo’s fingers trembled against the old lightbulb as he unscrewed it.
Yeah, that was bullshit. That was the upper middle-class Vaucluse boy making himself heard, when he needed to take a seat and shut the fuck up. Just because Leo wouldn’t have been able to engage in sex work without it damaging him emotionally didn’t mean that Tristan couldn’t. If Tristan said he liked his job, then Leo had no right whatsoever to disbelieve him. Because whatever they had together was doomed to failure if Leo was going to be that guy—the one who looked down on what Tristan did because he thought he knew better.
The bulb finally came free with a weird scraping sound and a tiny shower of grit.
Leo climbed down from the chair and got the new bulb. He screwed it in, then got down and flicked the switch near the front door.
The light turned on.
It was good to have at least one success of the day. Now, if only he could get over himself long enough to not mess things up with Tristan.
When he took the chair back to the kitchen, he almost walked into Harry.
Harry yelped and took a step backwards, right into Jack’s arms. “Oh! Oh God! You scared me. I wasn’t expecting…Leo? Oh wow.”
Harry looked sleep-rumpled and adorable and his glasses were askew, but he clearly knew how to put two and two together.
“Hi,” Leo said, his cheeks heating.
“Morning,” Jack said. “Coffee?”
“That would be a life saver.” Leo put the chair back at the little table. Then he sat on it, because why the hell not? He was already here, they’d already seen him, and upstairs Tristan was arranging to meet a stranger for sex. His knees were allowed to feel a little wobbly.
Harry sat next to him. He was wearing fuzzy pants with dalmatians on them, and a T-shirt that was so faded it was almost see-through. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Leo lied. “I’m actually really good. Tristan and I?—”
“Please don’t tell me the details,” Harry said.
“I…” He blinked. “I wasn’t going to. I was going to say we’re seeing each other. We had a date last night, and things went really well, and we’ve decided to keep seeing each other.”
God. Why did none of those words sound like English? He ratcheted up a smile.
