Crossing Borders (47 page)

Michael moved then, slid and slipped over the soft leather until Tristan was enfolded securely in his arms. He didn't really give a damn if Tristan didn't like it, didn't care if it scared him. His lips found Tristan's in an achingly tender kiss that tasted salt and whiskey and sadness all at the same time.

“Shh.”

“No, let me say it.”

“Tristan, please, don't.”

“I love you so much, Michael.”

“What?” Michael held himself perfectly still.

“That's all I know right now.” Tristan sagged against him. “That's all I know anymore.”

“Oh,
Tristan
,” said Michael. “I can promise you I will never take your love lightly, ever.”

“What do you mean?”

“I swear to you that I won't ever put your love last.”

“I'm sure you never put my love last, Michael.” Tristan waved his declaration away. “I know you never did that.”

“I joined the force because I want to help people, to protect people. Right now the thing I want to protect the most is what we have together.”

Tristan pushed away from him. “My head is fuzzy, what are you saying?”

“I'm saying I know that the job isn't the only problem we have, but it's a start, yes? I'm saying you're more important to me than the job, and I'll find another job, if you'll stay with me. I'll teach or drive a school bus or something. I'm saying let's start with the job and work from there, together, to build our lives exactly like we want them to be.”

“Won't you hate me? Won't you be sorry you're not a cop anymore?”

“Sure, I'll miss it. I like it. But I love you.”

“Shit,” said Tristan, snatching at the lapels of Michael's robe so he could draw him closer. “I'm so sorry. What a coward I am.”

“If you recall, neither one of us is very brave when it comes to losing what we have.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you even wear a helmet when you went…?”

“Don't ask; you won't like the answer.” Tristan snorted with laughter and cried at the same time.

Michael smiled. “I know you weren't looking for this, Tristan, but I'm hoping you want to see where it goes. I don't think something like we have comes along every day.”

“No, I imagine not.”

“And if you're scared, you ought to know I am too.” Michael pulled Tristan closer and held him. “But the thing that scares me most is losing you.”

“Me too.”

“So everything else?”

“Can be MacGyvered. You know, with a paper clip, a pen cap, the empty foil condom package…”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“I mean, if we keep our eyes on the prize we can work on what comes.” He rested his head on Michael's shoulder. “Right?”

“You and me, though. That's the prize, right? No matter what?”

“Well, unless you do something stupid, like cheat or die or something. Take up golf and wear those short plaid pants…”

“Me?” Michael said, insulted. “You're young. Are you sure you want to tie it all up with one guy? Are you ready?”

“I don't know,” Tristan said honestly. “Right now? Yeah.
Oh, yeah
. But five years from now? Ten years? Scares the hell out of me, man. Five years ago I was banging high school girls in the skate park bathrooms.”

Michael felt the color leech from his face. “Oh, Sparky. Too much information. In the bathrooms, really? I've been telling them they ought to install Web cams.”

“Sorry. You asked.”

“Well. As to that,” Michael said almost primly. “It has been established that you aren't the safest place I could put my heart.”

“What?”

“Well, I mean, you know, you're young, you spent more time with girls than guys, you hate my job, you play hard and take chances.”

“But I love you, you know that. You have got to know that, Michael.”

“I do. Because I have faith in you.” Michael stroked his finger lightly down Tristan's sunburned cheek.

“Oh.”

“And I know that even when it's hard, you'll put us first and be honest if you can't. At least, I'm asking you to promise me that you'll do that. Is that an easier promise than 'forever no matter what'?”

“Yes. It is.” Tristan swallowed hard. “I can promise to put us first and be honest if I can't.”

“Then I can too. And that's where we start.” Michael held out his hands and took Tristan's in them, lacing their fingers together.

Tristan held Michael's hand in his and seemed fascinated by the difference in the texture of their skin. “That's where we start. Yeah…but dude, seriously, could we start in the shower? Because I want to crawl inside you and die, and you smell like something already did that.”

Michael barked a laugh and grabbed his sides to help him manage the pain. “Yeah,” he said. “Come with me.”

Tristan followed Michael into the bathroom, horrified once again by how he looked when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Not exactly makeup sex fantasy material. Michael turned on the water, and the room began to fill with steam. Tristan started to unbutton his shirt, but couldn't look away from his image. Bruises were visible on his shoulder where he'd taken a bad fall. Tristan knew those weren't the only ones.

“Oh,” he said and stopped what he was doing.

“What?” Michael took his hand and turned him away from the mirror over the sink.

“I'm, like, a freak,” Tristan muttered. He couldn't look up at Michael.

“You're beautiful,” said Michael, kissing his forehead.

“Don't lie.” Tristan pulled away.

“Really, Tristan, I think you're…”

“No, you don't, you're just saying that, it's okay. I'm sorry.” He began taking his clothes off, hoping he'd last through an entire shower without falling asleep. The alcohol was making it worse; he hadn't had that much, but it was beginning to take effect. “You want to hear something funny? I kind of get off on being, your… I don't know. Arm candy.”

“Is that so?” murmured Michael, helping Tristan off with his shirt. He winced as he saw the discolorations, the bruising painfully apparent on his fair skin. “Oh, baby.”

Tristan fell into his arms a little when he tried to remove his pants. Large, ugly bruises covered the outsides of his thighs and calves and the big toe of one foot was black and blue; that toenail was sure to fall off.

“Stop looking at me like that, Michael,” said Tristan. “They're just bruises. They'll heal.” He slid his boxers off and headed for the shower. He was still cold, four-days-in-the-snow, bone cold, and the hot water looked so enticing he almost moaned. It took a special strength of will to lift his leg up and over the lip of the tub. He screwed up his face, but he did it.

Michael came in after him, at his back, and the smooth glide of skin and crisp hair against Tristan made him want more. He leaned into Michael, trying to get every square inch of his body skin to skin. He did let out a moan then; he couldn't help it.

“That's it, baby. Lean on me for a minute.” Michael got his hands soapy and ran them gently over Tristan's skin, cleaning him as he cleaned himself, using his hands to sluice the water off and rub warm circles.

“Oh, so good,” said Tristan leaning his head on Michael's shoulder.

“You'll have to wash your own hair. I can't really keep my arms up that long yet. It pulls, you know?”

“Sure,” said Tristan, turning in Michael's arms. “I'll get yours too.” He stopped cold and stepped back. “Oh…
shit
.”

It wasn't the first time Tristan had seen Michael's body after the stabbing. He'd seen it, bathed it while it still had stitches. Kissed it and loved it. But nothing prepared him for the end result, the way Michael would look when it was all over. An angry scar marked Michael's perfect abdomen. It pulled at his skin in a strange way, a sad reminder of the pain of the past. Tristan fell to his knees and put his mouth on it, earnestly, as if by kissing it he could heal Michael completely. He was crying, and when Michael tried to pick him up off the tub floor, he wouldn't allow it. He held Michael tightly, arms wrapped around his hips like a python, laving his scars and loving him and crying, until Michael came to his knees too and found his mouth, kissing him back like it was the first time and the last time and all the times they'd ever have between.

“Mine,” said Michael, his arms around Tristan's shoulders in a possessive bear hug. “Always…mine. Say it,” he demanded.

“Yours, Michael. Always. Yours.”

“I need you, Sparky,” said Michael, wetting his fingers and positioning them at Tristan's hole. “Let me in; I'm clean, baby. I was tested in the hospital.”

“Oh,” moaned Tristan. “
Yes
…no!” He froze. “I still have to be tested again, five months. Michael…please?” He didn't know what he was asking for.

“Shit,” said Michael, who left the bathroom for a minute and returned, cold and dripping, with a condom and lube. He turned off the water and climbed back into the tub, gathering Tristan into his arms. “Here,” he said, pulling Tristan into his lap with Tristan's thighs wrapped around him.

“Yes,” sighed Tristan. “Please, Michael. Please.”

As soon as Michael had the condom on his cock, Tristan slapped his hands away and straddled him, impaling himself on Michael. It burned and stretched him until he thought he'd rip in two, shocking him and taking his breath away for a moment. He must have groaned, because Michael held him carefully, looking into his eyes.