Secret

“Oh my god,” Dylan said from the living room. “Is that the ocean?”

“It is. You can see better during the day. I have a swimming pool out there if you want to take a dip. Hang on, I’ll be right back,” Tristan called, going back to his bedroom. He tossed his suit jacket over the rack in his closet and dug out an old pair of jeans and T-shirt. He changed quickly before going into the bathroom and brushing his teeth and running a comb through his sandy blond hair.

He’d not been this excited about a night in a long time, and it surprised him. Taking a closeted gay man’s virginity had never been on his bucket list, but he also hadn’t ever met anyone like Dylan Reeves. He was gorgeous, no question there, and from the brief grope he got, he knew the man was packing, but he also seemed like an honest-to-goodness good guy. Maybe even one of those salt-of-the-earth types, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d come across someone as intriguing.

On a whim, he stopped by his nightstand, flipping on that light as he grabbed a couple of condoms and a pack of lube from the drawer. This might turn into a deck-side experience. Who knew for sure? Tristan went through the back of his bedroom, laid the condoms on a deck table as he approached Dylan who stood along the deck railing, looking out over the ocean. Tristan did that very same thing all the time. It was the key reason he’d bought this place in the first place.

“Would you like something to drink?” Tristan asked, walking toward him. He saw Dylan had left those few buttons undone on his dress shirt, and now his long sleeves were rolled up almost to the elbow, revealing strong, sexy forearms.

“I’m fine. I’ve drunk too much tonight already,” Dylan said, and Tristan remembered the too much drinking in college story. He strolled over to the rail, and instead of looking out at the ocean, he leaned on the metal bar and watched Dylan.

“You’re incredibly handsome. You’ve never been with a man before?”

“Not sex,” Dylan supplied honestly.

“I’m honored you want me to be your first,” Tristan said, his voice deep with the reality of how true those words really were.

“You don’t have to say things like that,” Dylan started, but Tristan stopped him, making his move. He pulled Dylan between his parted legs and gathered him in his arms.

“You’ll learn soon enough that I always speak the truth. Sometimes you’ll like me for it, sometimes you won’t,” Tristan admitted, unbuttoning another three buttons of Dylan’s shirt before he pulled at the ends tucked tightly in his slacks. “I felt an amazingly hard body under your clothes when we danced. I’d like to see for myself.”

Dylan released the remaining buttons, and Tristan was able to smooth his palms up Dylan’s chest, across his shoulders, and help slide the dress shirt down his arms until the material fell to the floor. A smile touched his lips as he looked over this very surprising man.

“Nice, but this has got to go.” Tristan plucked at the white undershirt that clung suggestively to Dylan’s body. “Lift your arms.” He gathered the thin cloth in his fists, lifted it over Dylan’s head, then dropped it on the ground next to the dress shirt.

“That’s more like it,” Tristan said as he slid his palms appreciatively up Dylan’s slim waist, lightly skimming over his ribs, before stopping on the man’s firm pectoral muscles. “Do you swim?”

“I run,” Dylan said, looking down at Tristan’s hands on his chest. Tristan could feel Dylan’s dick swelling against his with each movement he made.

“And lift a little?” Tristan urged Dylan’s hips forward until they were nestled tightly together. Tristan was already hard. Had been since they’d slow-danced earlier in the evening. He wanted Dylan to feel exactly how badly he wanted him.

“Not as much as you,” Dylan said, running a palm across Tristan’s bicep. Goose bumps sprang up on his arm, and Dylan must have felt them, because he immediately stopped. “Are you cold?”

“No, not at all,” Tristan said with a laugh. “I’m turned the fuck on, but not cold.” That had Dylan’s eyes locked on his. Surprisingly Dylan lifted his hands, tangling his fingers in the sides of Tristan’s hair, and initiated a kiss. Tristan opened for him, wrapping his arms tighter around Dylan, bringing him closer against his chest.

There were no awkward moments, no testing the waters, almost as if they’d done this before. Dylan slid his tongue in perfect rhythm with Tristan as he slowly began to fuck his mouth. Any concern he had that Dylan might not be as into this vanished. Tristan ran his hands up and down Dylan’s back then grabbed each ass cheek and ground forward, matching the kiss with the movement from his hips. Dylan’s mouth went slack as he threw his head back and moaned. Tristan latched on to his neck, working his way to his ear.

“I can’t wait to make you come. How many times can I make you come in a night?” Tristan breathed against Dylan’s ear. Dylan trembled in his arms as he spoke the words. “One…two…?”

“More,” he said so quietly Tristan almost hadn’t heard him. He began unbuckling and unbuttoning Dylan’s pants as he kissed a trail down his chest. He took care with each nipple as Dylan’s hands cupped the back of his head and pushed him lower.

It didn’t take much to get Dylan’s slacks to drop to the deck. Tristan smiled at the standard Fruit of the Loom tighty-whities he wore. Evidently Dylan was a briefs guy. “Change places with me.” Tristan bent over and pulled off Dylan’s loafers, then helped him out of his slacks before pressing Dylan against the rail.

“You say when you’ve had enough.” Tristan looked up at Dylan as he slid his hand along the waistband and slowly started to lower Dylan’s tented briefs. Tristan dropped to his knees in front of Dylan and mouthed that wet spot on those tighty-whities before slowly pulling them down and out of his way. When that perfect cock sprang free, Tristan abandoned the task and immediately reached for the jutting length.