Tristan made a small noise and broke the kiss. Squeezing Zach’s cock hard, he glared. “What do you think you’re doing? I’m not your bloody girlfriend. Just hurry up and fuck me.”
Zach did. Of course he did.
As he buried his face in Tristan’s neck and pushed inside him, he could almost relate to that dick who had gotten Tristan’s mother pregnant. If Tristan’s mother had been half as intoxicating as her son…to Zach’s shame and disgust, he could understand the guy.
There was a difference, though. It was clear that at some point Tristan’s father had stopped.
Zach was no longer sure he could.
Chapter 17
As far as birthdays went, this one wasn’t so bad after all. Tristan’s body ached pleasantly after the sex and the second training session, but a long, hot bath filled with aromatic salts refreshed him.
When he emerged from the bathroom, he was surprised to find Zach lounging on the couch in front of the TV.
“I thought you already left,” he said.
Zach glanced at him. “I promised my sister I’d pick her up from work and drive her to Oxford. She works close by. It’s pointless to drive home only to drive back in an hour.”
Tristan padded closer and hesitated. He never knew how to act around Zach at moments like this: when they were neither training nor going to fuck. It had been so difficult to find the right balance lately, the lines getting blurred.
He could tell he wasn’t the only one struggling with it. When they weren’t having sex, Zach mostly acted around him as he always did—slightly mocking, slightly cynical, and bossy—but sometimes, his behavior was…off. Tristan didn’t even mean those moments when they lay next to each other after sex, sated and blissed out, and Zach would run his fingers along Tristan’s spine, stroke his nape, his sweaty hair. People said and did stupid things after sex. But it wasn’t just during the sex.
Zach stared at him. It didn’t happen all that often, but when it did, it made Tristan feel funny on the inside. He didn’t like the feeling—because he was absolutely addicted to it. And the worst part was, he couldn’t even blame Zach for the hot and cold treatment: sometimes he felt so needy for Zach’s touch that he found himself stepping closer to him when they weren’t having sex. Then he realized what he was doing and lashed out at Zach with unnecessarily scathing remarks.
Fuck. This thing should have never lasted as long as it did. It had been almost a month already. He never fucked the same guy for so long. Who was he kidding? Before Zach he had never fucked the same guy twice.
“Are you going to stand there all evening?” Zach said, without looking at him. He had his hands propped behind his head in that universal guy gesture, looking casual, relaxed and very male.
Tristan caught his lip between his teeth, glancing at the free space next to Zach, and strode determinedly to the couch. He plopped down next to Zach. “What are you watching?”
“Back to the Future.”
Tristan scrunched up his nose. “Boring.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
Tristan lounged back, balancing his leg on his knee. His bare foot pressed against Zach’s leg. “But it’s boring. It’s my birthday and I wanna watch something else.” Tristan hid his smile, aware he sounded like a spoiled toddler. He didn’t give a shit and knew that Zach didn’t, either: Zach didn’t expect him to act any different. Living down to Zach’s expectations was always fun. With Zach, he could be as immature and mean as he wanted. He didn’t have to be nice, good-natured and laid back. He didn’t have to pretend. He didn’t have to be anything. It felt…different. Liberating. It felt good.
“There’s another TV in the house,” Zach said, his eyes still on the screen.
Tristan pursed his lips, feeling kind of annoyed that Zach wasn’t paying him attention. He pressed his foot more firmly against Zach’s leg.
Without sparing him a glance, Zach caught his foot. “Stop squirming.” He didn’t remove his hand. Zach’s thumb started stroking the bottom of his foot, absent-mindedly.
Squirming, Tristan couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping his lips. He was ticklish, always had been.
Zach snatched his hand away.
Tristan stopped smiling. He shot a sideway glance at Zach and bit his lip.
“I’m bored,” he said, rapping his knuckles on the wooden arm of the couch. Loudly.
He did it for a full two minutes (yep, he did count; sue him) before Zach finally let out a sigh of exasperation. Zach reached out and grabbed his hand. “Be quiet.” He put Tristan’s hand on Tristan’s thigh, holding it in place with his own hand.
Tristan stared at Zach’s hand covering his own and then at Zach’s arm around him.
Oh.
Zach’s arm stiffened, as though he only now realized that he was effectively embracing Tristan.