Crossing Borders (15 page)

“Oh…” Michael reacted to the brush of Tristan's nail over his glans. “I never counted on your sheer unabashed interest in all things dick.” Michael stroked his hair. “And this? I'll give you about forty years to stop.”

Tristan muttered something under his breath and ducked his head back to Michael's cock, and by the time Tristan rolled the condom down on it, he'd seen and touched and tasted every part of him and had decided that he wanted to stroke Michael from the inside, as well as suck him.

“Lube?” He held his hand out, his head still between Michael's legs, sucking the inside of a thigh. He felt the lube drop into his hands. “'Kay, thanks,” he said, returning to his task.

“Oh, yes, Tristan,” he sighed, as Tristan's tongue flicked the sensitive slit at the tip of his cock, and then Tristan worked the bead on his tongue against it. “Oh,
there
, baby,” he moaned again, arching, giving him access. “Oh, that's so…
shi
t
!” He jerked like a puppet every time the stud in Tristan's tongue ran up and down the length of his cock.

Tristan knew he didn't have any particular skill in this area, but he'd spent the week thinking about and listing the most exciting things he'd felt at Michael's hands and decided to try them all on him. What was it Michael had said about him, big air, big rush? Well,
hell yeah
. And Michael tasted so good—at least he had before the latex—his skin all salt and sweat and man that Tristan wanted to just devour him. He used his tongue piercing to tease him a little and discovered that Michael liked that a lot.
A whole lot
. Michael writhed, his moans becoming more frequent and his hips shifting. Tristan wanted to find that special place inside of Michael that would go
boom
up his spine while Tristan sucked his dick. Actually, that might be the sum total of his new plan,
the plan prime
, now that his old plan had changed his life the way it had.

Fingers plus mouth plus tongue piercing plus wild, unbridled enthusiasm, plus maybe a modicum of want-you-more-than-I-ever-the-hell-wanted-anyone-in-my-damn-life equals—

“
Trista
n
!” shouted Michael, jerking off the futon in shock as he filled the latex inside Tristan's mouth. “Oh, damn, that was…”

Tristan slipped the latex off Michael's softening erection, the thought of what he'd done making him almost cream himself. Tristan couldn't help staying where he was, next to that slick, softening cock, taking in the smell of sex and Michael all at once.

“Oh,” he moaned. “Gonna come just from watching how damn gorgeous you are. Okay if I…um…” He still had his fingers in Michael, stretching him, opening him.

“Yes,” said Michael. “I…just…oh,
yes
.”

Tristan held out his hand for another condom, rolling this one quickly down on his throbbing flesh. He felt like he was going to tear at the seams, his cock was so hard. He looked down at Michael, the man all golden and rosy and waiting for him.

“Oh, Michael,” he said, sliding his cock into Michael. “So tight,” he sighed. “Never felt this…not like you…so hot.”

“Yeah,” sighed Michael, his cock hardening again, coming back to life between them. “Make me fly.”

“Uhn…going to fly together,” Tristan panted, giving him everything he had, holding Michael's knees in his forearms and bracing himself for long, hard strokes. “Going to make you give it up again,” he said, hitting Michael's gland and causing him to tremble beneath him. He rocked into Michael, eyes closed, savoring the feeling for as long as he could. Sweat trickled down his back, and for a while, there was nothing but the movement, the moment, and the man with him.

“Tristan. Oh, shit, baby, you…only you.”

“Me,” agreed Tristan. “Yeah, only me.” He felt a rush of heat between them as Michael came again. Michael jerked and shuddered in his arms as if taken by surprise by his orgasm. Tristan still took him with long, slow strokes until he felt his own balls tighten, and then he lost himself, pushing so hard into Michael he heard him gasp. He held himself there and spent, his whole body feeling like it siphoned from his dick.

“Uhn.” His breath caught on the last waves of his orgasm, giving voice to his pleasure in noises he didn't recognize as coming from his own throat.

“Oh, that?” He fell limply into Michael's arms. “Was poetry.”

Michael gasped as Tristan pulled out, removed the condom, and tied it off. Michael pulled him tight, the cum sliding between them getting sticky and sweaty and oh-so-slick. “Michael.” Tristan laughed. “Guess what. I came.”

“Tristan. Guess what, me too. You are so beautiful, did I mention that?” he asked.

He had, Tristan knew, mentioned that before. “Nope, never. Tell me all about it?” He preened, pleased with the dazed look on Michael's face.

“Just looking at you makes me hard,” Michael said, stroking his hair. “And that's if you were bald.”

“Oh, hell no,” said Tristan.

“With the hair?” said Michael. “You're lethal.”

“What, this hair?” Tristan teased, moving his head so it fell around them. “My same old boring hair?” He snapped his head and snaked it down Michael's chest and stomach until it tickled his balls.

“Somebody's going to need a shower,” said Michael. “You're going to smell like me.”

“Wish I could taste like you,” said Tristan. “How could we lose the latex?”

Michael went dead silent. “It's not that simple.”

“Well, can't we get tested or something?” He sat there happily contemplating what it would be like to feel Michael come down his throat.

“I'm clean,” Michael said. “I get tested every six months, and there hasn't been anybody except you for a while.”

“I see. Well, that leaves me, and while I practice safe sex, it's been more…how shall I say…recent and maybe indiscriminate. Okay, I see the problem. I could still get tested now and again in six months…”

“Um, yeah…you could.” Michael remained silent.

“Oh…
oh
,” said Tristan, realizing he was talking about an exclusive relationship. Duh. “I didn't think, how dumb. I was just problem solving out loud. It's not like I think we should be…” He turned to Michael. “I was just thinking in terms of getting the taste of latex out of my mouth. I'm…I…”

“It's okay,” Michael said with a laugh. “Sometimes you think a little ahead of me.”

“Yeah, oh, damn.” Tristan was thinking hard. It was their second date, and he'd practically…
That clinches it
, he thought.
I'm a chick
. “I'm hungry,” he said then, knowing that would derail the whole conversation, and Michael would go straight into foodie mode.

“I have just the thing to eat in front of the fire.” said Michael, already rising to his feet. Tristan followed him, stopping behind him when he got to the fridge. Michael whipped around with a flourish, a large platter in his hands.

“Whoa,” said Tristan, jumping back. “It's official, you're the master of the meat and cheese platter.”

“Not just any meat and cheese platter,” said Michael. “I got apples in Oak Glen, right off the trees.”

“Oh, fresh apples?”

“Yep, and a pie that will make your toes curl.”

“Oh,” said Tristan again, wondering if Michael knew just how much his toes were curling already, just from seeing the man smile.

Michael put the platter down and picked up a colander of washed apples, both red and green, and a wicked, lethal-looking knife. He began expertly slicing the fruit into eighths, removing the seeds and stems until they were cut into neat wedges with the skin still on.

“Here, you carry this.” He handed the platter to Tristan and went back to the fridge, opening it and then closing it again to lean against it, as if weighing something in his mind.

“You know, Sparky,” he said, then quickly corrected himself. “Tristan. It's not like I have some big problem with you having a beer every now and then. Hell, I drank beer when I was your age.”

“Michael, I…” began Tristan, but Michael stopped him.

“No, really, I trust you to drink responsibly. I shouldn't be such a hard ass. I know you probably drink with your friends… Maybe I've been a little too conscious of our age difference, and maybe I've been a shit about it.”

“Michael, how old are you?” asked Tristan. “I don't believe you've mentioned it.”

“I'll be twenty-eight on Valentine's Day,” said Michael. “I'm almost ten years older than you.”

“Can't argue the math.”

“Does that make a difference to you?” asked Michael.

“No, not really. Except now I can take advantage of your dotage to wring you out for presents and money, like Anna Nicole Smith did to that billionaire guy,” Tristan teased.

“Shut up,” said Michael, going a little red.

“What, are you kidding? You worry about that sort of thing? Age?”

“Tristan, you can have anyone you want,” said Michael. “You have no idea how desirable you are. I feel…honored to be the first.”

Tristan put the platter down on the table behind him. He took in the man standing uncomfortably still in front of the fridge. “I don't want you to feel honored. I want you to feel like…good candy. Something I want all the time.” Tristan advanced on Michael, taking his face between his palms. “Something I can't wait to get my hands and my mouth on.”

“Sparky,” sighed Michael against his lips. “Candy?”

“Mmmhmm. The best kind of candy, the kind you don't share.” Tristan looked at him. “Unless you have to.”

“
Oh
. I wouldn't say you had to worry about that.”

“Michael?” Tristan ran his tongue across Michael's full lower lip and caught it carefully between his teeth.

“Hm?” said Michael, dazed, caught between Tristan and the cold metal fridge.

“You don't have to worry about that, either.”